Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

“In actual life I am a grumpy old bag.”

January 27, 2012

The wind is blowing, and it’s pouring rain. My computer decided it wanted to ignore me so it froze several times. I cursed each time and screamed in frustration once. I must scream a lot as Gracie never stirred from her nap. She just kept on snoring. Today I am grouchy and tired. My guess is the lack of sun is finally taking its toll. It’s warm at 52° but what good is warm when it’s so wet? I do love the rain, but I’ve had enough of it the last week. It rains the whole night or the whole day or both.

I have no ambition today. Looking at the world through my window makes me want to stay right here. I will not get dressed and I will not make my bed. I might even watch television, something I never do during the day.

Walking home from school on a rainy day meant getting soaked. We didn’t have rain coats or rain boots or even an umbrella. They would have been extravagances. We had snow gear and warm winter boots but nothing for rain. I remember my hair was plastered to my head and bubbles rose from my shoes by the time I walked home. Once we were inside the door, my mother would quickly hustle us down to the cellar to hang up our coats and leave our wet shoes. I remember walking upstairs to my room to change and seeing footprints on the wood floor from my wet socks. I thought it was kind of cool. My mother was less appreciative. She’d follow us upstairs and grab our uniforms to put them on hangers to dry over the radiators as we’d have to wear them the next day. While we were sleeping, my mother would iron them so they’d look fresh for the morning.

I loved the feeling of being warm and dry in my pajamas and slippers. It seemed strange to be wearing them in the afternoon, but play clothes made no sense on a rainy day. Sometimes I’d fall asleep snuggled under the covers. Other times I’d read my book the whole of the afternoon, my favorite way to spend time.

Today I will stay in my pajamas and feel cozy and warm. I might also take a nap and probably read. Maybe my grumpiness will disappear.

” I don’t make jokes. I just watch the government and report the facts.”

January 24, 2012

A mighty rain fell all night and pounded the roof.  It was a sweet sound to me, and I easily fell asleep. This morning when I went out to get the papers, I saw the snow was just about gone. Only a few small piles remain, and they won’t last long. It will be 50° today. No sun again this morning, just a gray sky, but the sun will be by later. I’ll be happy to see it after so long.

The Bruins were at the White House yesterday to be feted by the President for winning the Stanley Cup last season. Tim Thomas, the celebrated goalie, did not go. He cited the President’s policies as the reason. I totally disagree with his decision. This was an occasion to celebrate an achievement, one which should have transcended politics. No allegiance was demanded, no votes were cast. It was about hockey, a game with sticks and a puck and a net. That’s all.

My father voted democratic until his salary hit six figures then he changed his allegiance to the republicans. He couldn’t believe he had raised such liberals, all four of us. After every election, he’d make a point of telling me his vote cancelled out mine. Once he called me a pinko communist school teacher poisoning the minds of young Americans. I asked him if he thought teaching Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar was subversive. He sputtered but never answered and then left the room. He and I were at loggerheads for the whole of my adult life anytime politics were mentioned. Most times I never told him of any political activism in which I took part. The veins in his head would have popped. We all knew that was a sure sign of how angry he was, and we used to keep track when we were kids. We’d try to out-vein each other. I don’t remember when, we called a truce and politics became verboten between us. I do remember it was some time during the Reagan administration which would have had us at each other’s necks for all eight years.

My mother never said a word. She was the smart one.

“If my mother put on a helmet and shoulder pads and a uniform that wasn’t the same as the one I was wearing, I’d run over her if she was in my way. And I love my mother.”

January 23, 2012

When I woke up, I thought it was raining. I could hear drops falling to the deck from the roof, but when I came downstairs, I saw it wasn’t rain at all. It was the sound of snow melting from the eaves and the roof. It is 42° and will stay warm for the next few days. We are back in the middle of our strange winter.

My headache is gone and my teeth have stopped aching. The Patriots’ AFC game yesterday was the culprit which caused the pain. It was an amazing game, not a good game, but an amazing game, the sort that doesn’t let you relax, the sort that keeps your stomach in knots. We were on our feet with hands in the air calling each touchdown and we’d sit right back down to moan the turnovers, the lost opportunities and the threes and out. It came down to a few seconds and a kicker as to whether or not we’d go into overtime. We, my friends and I and I suspect most people watching, held our collective breaths once the ball was kicked. We watched the field goal go left of the posts, and we cheered. Bring on the Superbowl!

I am a Tom Brady fan and became even more of one yesterday. When asked about the game, Tom said, “Well I sucked pretty bad today but our defense saved us. I’m gonna go out and try and do a better job in a couple of weeks.” You have to love an honest man.

My father was a football fan. On Thanksgiving he had the record time for finishing his entire meal, including a turkey leg, so he could rush back to TV and football. In those days, I shutter to admit, he was a Giants fan because there were no Patriots.

My father was a screamer. He’d yell at poorly executed plays and moan loudly at fumbles or sacks. It didn’t matter that he was alone watching the games. He was perfectly connected with the TV and the action on the field and didn’t need anyone else. If we happened to join him, he’d just point to the TV, turn to us and ask if we’d seen the play that had him screaming. He didn’t care whether we answered.

When the Patriots won their first Superbowl, we all talked about my Dad and how much he would have loved his hometown team taking the trophy. In two weeks I’ll be thinking of him again when the Giants play the Patriots. I have no doubt as to where his allegiance would be.

“It looks like something out of Whittier’s “Snowbound,”‘ Julia said. Julia could always think of things like that to say.”

January 22, 2012

About 8 or 9 inches of snow fell yesterday. The stuff is pretty, no question about it, but pretty never lasts long enough. I got plowed out last night by my factotum but a bit more fell, mostly from the ocean effect, but because it was warmer earlier this morning, the new snow melted off the walkway, the car windshield and the roof. Icicles now hang off the roof edge. They look like teeth needing orthodontia. It’s cold, only 31°, and the sky is gray cloudy.

I’ll watch the Pats play the Ravens this afternoon. If I had tickets to the game, I’d probably give them away. I can’t imagine sitting in the stands and freezing. A warm living room, good food and a close bathroom are far more important to me. I doubt there would be enough layers to keep me warm.

Gracie’s friend Cody dropped by to visit late yesterday. Both dogs had so much pent-up energy they ran and ran chasing each other. Gracie also did her laps around the perimeter three times in a row. When she came inside, her tongue was hanging to her knees, at least to what I think are her knees.

The cape is pretty flat, but the golf course has one perfect hill for sledding. I’m betting there’s a crowd of kids there now despite the cold. Opportunities to speed down a hill are too rare to pass up. Our old wooden sleds are from a bygone era. Kids now spin their way to the bottom on flying saucers or snow tubes. My old wooden sled is standing outside my front door with skates hanging from the steering. It is one of my winter decorations. I love the way it looks and the memories it brings to mind.

I have to the dump today. On days like today the dump is freezing. The wind rushes furiously across the treeless plain. I always imagine that’s what a gulag must be like.

“There was no need to do any housework at all. After the first four years the dirt doesn’t get any worse.”

January 17, 2012

The warmth is back but no sun. The day is cloudy, a leftover from last night’s rain. The breeze is slight and the tops of the pine trees sway just a bit. Yesterday I didn’t leave the house. I cleaned this room. It took a long while as the room is filled with hats, snow globes, books and old toys. Gumby and Pokey were especially dusty as were the B-movie people  and the wind-up toys. I felt accomplished when I was finished.

These spurts of energy are sporadic. For that I am thankful. I hate wasting my time cleaning the house though I love a clean house. Every other week Rosana and Lee come to clean, but they don’t do the shelves in this room and my room or the top of the desk filled as it is with the wind-ups. I am stuck with those. When I can write a novel in the dust, I know it’s time to clean. Rosana always notices.

I never thought about a clean house when I was a kid. My mother did the cleaning when we were in school so it was like magic. Leave in the morning to a dusty house and come home to a clean one. Sometimes I wish I were Samantha, and I could just wiggle my nose and everything would get done. Not only that but I’d wiggle my nose and travel: dinner in Marrakech or breakfast on a rooftop overlooking the pyramids. I wouldn’t even need a dog and cat sitter.

Last night I watched Alcatraz. Inmates and guards disappeared in 1963. Their disappearance was covered up in a variety of ways, but now the inmates are reappearing and are deadly. Last night had a high body count. Those who have reappeared haven’t aged and are still wearing their prison uniforms. I wondered if the families of the guards disappeared too as they lived on the island. Nobody mentioned that. The reappeared have what they need in their pockets. One had a ticket off the island on the tourist boat, money and a key to a locker. He knew exactly where to go to find and open the locker. I like strange programs.

Poor Gracie hasn’t been herself the last couple of days. She was sick three times, didn’t eat and had nausea most of the early part of last night. Today she seems her chipper self. We’ve already played throw the toy down the hall, and she ate a couple of lamb bits. She’s sleeping now and has been for a while. Yesterday she never slept too long: she’d start swallowing then get up and go outside. I always worry when one of my animals gets sick.

Well, that’s it for today. I think all that cleaning drained my creativity.

“Never take a job where winter winds can blow up your pants.”

January 16, 2012

Today is a balmy 27°. Last night went into single digits, but I’m not complaining. This has been too warm a winter to warrant any complaints. Not only that but it’s already mid-January, and we haven’t had any snow. I guess my sled will stay in the cellar for a while longer.

I crave color. The world is just so drab after Christmas. Dead leaves hang on the branches, and the tall brown trunks of pine trees stand silhouetted against a muted blue sky. Here and there people still have Christmas lights lit every night, and I appreciate their gestures. I buy cut flowers for the house around this time of year. Their colors remind me that there will be a spring. I just have to be more patient.

My house is a dust bowl. I think I saw Tom Joad upstairs the other day so I’ve made the committment to dust and polish this room today. It is where I spend the most time so it will get the most attention. I hate to clean. It seems like such a waste of time when I could be reading or doing absolutely nothing. Also, the plants need to be watered. It sounds like a work day to me.

Yesterday afternoon I just couldn’t get warm. I was chilled to the bone. I turned up the heat, but that didn’t help. I added a few layers, a long sleeve shirt under my sweatshirt and a pair of socks over my cozies, but they didn’t help either. A cup of coffee tasted great, but only my hands around the cup got warm for only a short while. I tried to take a nap under the down comforter but still felt chilled so I couldn’t fall asleep. My feet were the worst. They were freezing so put on wool socks. Finally my feet got warm and the warmth spread. I was comfortable all evening and thankful for my wool socks even if they do have a few holes.

Last week was really busy. This week is an empty dance card. I won’t see another person until Thursday for our weekly trivia night. Summer is filled with people and voices and sounds. The winter is silent.

“That grand old poem called Winter”

January 15, 2012

Today is winter. I have no doubt. I woke up to a snow squall, a tiny nor’easter, and a yard covered by the dusting. It is now 13°. I went out for breakfast as I usually do but my car was slow to heat. Gracie was in the back seat wearing her Pendleton coat, and, as I was a bit early, I rode around until the car was warm so Miss Gracie would be comfortable waiting.

The snow isn’t pretty the way some storms are. The wind is tossing the flakes which keep changing size. Right now they’re large and wispy. Just a short while ago, they were tiny and look short-lived. They’re falling beneath a gray white sky. The branches of the pine trees are dark against the snow and sky.

The bird feeders need filling, but I’ll bring them inside to fill then put them back outside. I’m not standing there in this cold. Besides I don’t see a bird. They are huddled elsewhere keeping warm.

The game last night was one-sided. Tom Brady was magnificent. How he found his targets in the middle of all those Broncos was nothing short of amazing. Tebow et al were outclassed from the opening minute. I’m guessing it will be the Ravens next.

I’ll experience the day from right here in my den. My feet are now clad in cozies and slippers, and I’m wearing flannel pants and a sweatshirt. I’m already thinking nap.

” Ah, yes, superstition: it would appear to be cowardice in face of the supernatural.”

January 13, 2012

I am so very late today as I was a sloth. It was 11 before I woke up. Two phone calls before nine woke me, but I settled back under the covers both times and went back to sleep. Fern nestled beside me on one side and Gracie on the other. They are both now napping.

When I went to get the papers, I was astonished at how warm it was. It was 51°. I checked the weather in the paper as I had expected it to be cold, but that front isn’t due until tomorrow. I know it’s coming as already, in the last two hours, the temperature has dropped to 48°, still mild for winter but I’m getting spoiled by this winter and have high expectations (which you can accept as an intentional play on words).

The wind was amazing earlier. I heard a crash on the deck and both Gracie and I went running. The umbrella in the 100 pound metal stand had been blown over and it hit the railing. The wind has since weakened but it was wild for a while.

Today is Friday the 13th. The local paper, The Cape Cod Times, had a whole page about it. I found out that you can have your tonsils out today if you so choose as hemorrhages are no more likely today than any other day even though more than 40% of the surgical staff in a hospital in Germany believed otherwise. The Embassy Suites Hotel in Tampa has a 13th floor although most skyscrapers built-in the last 40 years don’t. The hotel opened in 2007 to much controversy and two guests requested a change of floors. I don’t know why they didn’t in the first place. That makes me wonder. The girl scout cookie sale starts around here today. I consider that a good thing. I’m thinking thin mints! Black cats are far less likely to be adopted. I told Maddie, my black cat, that she was a statistical anomaly but she didn’t even raise her head to acknowledge my comment.

I am not superstitious so today is like any other day to me; however,  I do have to  have blood drawn.  I hope those 40% are as wrong as I think they are.

” It’s the way you ride the trail that counts.”

January 9, 2012

Winter is dropping by for a quick visit today: it will only be in the high 30’s. When I went to get the papers earlier, there wasn’t even the smallest breeze so it felt warmer than 36°. The 40’s will be back tomorrow and for the rest of the week. No January thaw this year. We haven’t the need for one.

I never once wanted to be a pirate or a swashbuckler. I was part of the cowboy-cowgirl generation. I wanted to ride a horse and shoot standing up on the saddle like Annie Oakley used to do. She was a hero of mine. Annie was a sheriff, and nobody seemed to mind she was a woman. They never offered to come to her rescue. Annie didn’t need it. It wasn’t until I was older I realized that Annie Oakley was an anomaly because all the other sheriffs were lawmen.

Dale Evans was also a bit of a hero even though she wasn’t a shooter. She and Buttermilk rode the west together with Roy and Trigger. Dale on Buttermilk could jump fences and ride like the wind, and she had the best outfits with all that fringe hanging from the sleeves, and she wore those really fancy leather gloves. Annie wore more utilitarian clothes: a plain skirt, a blouse and usually a vest. She also wore a holster and a gun. After all, Annie Oakley did have bad guys to catch.

I went horseback riding a few times, and I fell off a few times. It was a long way to the ground. I liked the sound the leather saddle made, sort of a creaking sound as I rode on it, and I liked the view from the saddle where I envisioned tumbleweeds and cacti and chasing bandits who had robbed the stagecoach, but I never did get the hang of riding quickly. I was a slow rider better suited for the pony section where you ride in a circle. I figured I wasn’t destined to be the new Annie Oakley.

I also wanted to be Nancy Drew or Trixie Belden. Their towns had mysteries all the time, and they always solved them. My town had none. The local paper had a section about the police calls in town, and I got to read how so and so called because she had heard loud noises in her neighborhood or because someone’s dog was barking too long in the night. Big deal! We had no missing precious paintings or lurking strangers. We just had noisy dogs.

“Winter dawn is the color of metal, The trees stiffen into place like burnt nerves.”

January 8, 2012

Yesterday reached over 60°. It was an absolutely gorgeous day filled with warmth and sunshine. Today is no slouch either. The temperature is already 45°. I didn’t see a winter coat all morning when I went to breakfast. The nights are in the 30’s but it is, after all, winter.

The last of Christmas is disappearing as I write. The outside lights are coming down and being stored away until next year. I will miss the star most of all. It was bright and beautiful and had a tail of 5 strands of lights. It stood tall above the back gate and lit up the night. I’m thinking I might just use it this summer in the backyard.

When I was a kid, Christmas and my birthday were the two most important days of the year, even more important than the last day of school, but Christmas had the advantage as it was a season and its festivities lasted for days. We had the decorating of the house and the tree and the cookies. We had to make our lists for Santa which took hours poring over the Sears catalog before the lists could be finalized. We had favorite television programs to watch and an advent calendar for the countdown, and we had the nightly race to see who would turn on the window lights.

I don’t remember when Christmas was dismantled. I think my mother did most of it while we were in school. I know one day we left for school and the tree was there, and when we got home, it was gone. The living room was back to normal with the TV in its rightful spot.

Back then I didn’t miss Christmas after it was gone. For a kid, the anticipation is the best part and that’s before the big day. For me now, it’s the decorations and the lights and the gingerbread houses we decorate. It’s getting together with friends.

I feel a bit of melancholy, a sense of loss when everything is gone. Winter now holds sway and the nights are dark and far less friendly.