Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ category

“Everybody’s a dreamer.”

February 23, 2012

Yesterday was a perfect day. It was warm and sunny and the morning was filled with the sounds of bird songs the way spring mornings are. I did all the outside chores I’d been holding off until the weather got warmer. My new palm tree was assembled, put on the deck and lit up last night. My neighbors phoned and said they were thrilled to see it. They called it iconic and likened the tree to the Citco sign at Fenway. This new palm tree is taller than the old. Some of my friends used to have to duck under the old fronds. This one is a foot taller. I also figured out why the ground lights had been off for so long, and they too were bright last night except for the two strands which had lit their last. I bought two new ones, and I’ll put them up today. I have missed all my night lights.

Today is cloudy but warm. A while back the sun tried to break through the clouds but just didn’t have enough oomph yet but it keeps trying. I’m rooting for the sun. Every now and then the leaves move but the day is calm. It rained last night, the second night in a row, and it’s still damp.

The sun just reappeared and the sky has touches of blue. I think it will be a lovely day.

When I was a kid, some things just seemed exotic to me. Palm trees were on that list. I pictured a white sandy beach, water so clear you could see the fish and a line of palm trees along the sand. I imagined drinking from a coconut just knocked from the tree. I think it was Swiss Family Robinson which conjured my imaginings. When I saw my first palm tree, I wasn’t disappointed.

The desert was also among my exotic imaginings. I saw myself dressed like a Bedouin and riding a camel. My clothes were bright reds and greens and blues, and I wore a cloth across part of my face to keep out the sand. I could see myself sitting on the saddle as the camel slowly walked across the desert. It must have been a movie which had me imagining the Sahara as I don’t think any of my books did.

New England is the least exotic place I know, but I figure for some people New England and all it offers might be part of their imaginings. Sledding down a big hill in winter, collecting shells along the shore, swimming in the ocean and eating freshly caught fish might just be part of someone’s dreaming.

“Everybody’s a dreamer.”

February 23, 2012

Yesterday was a perfect day. It was warm and sunny and the morning was filled with the sounds of bird songs the way spring mornings are. I did all the outside chores I’d been holding off until the weather got warmer. My new palm tree was assembled, put on the deck and lit up last night. My neighbors phoned and said they were thrilled to see it. They called it iconic and likened the tree to the Citco sign at Fenway. This new palm tree is taller than the old. Some of my friends used to have to duck under the old fronds. This one is a foot taller. I also figured out why the ground lights had been off for so long, and they too were bright last night except for the two strands which had lit their last. I bought two new ones, and I’ll put them up today. I have missed all my night lights.

Today is cloudy but warm. A while back the sun tried to break through the clouds but just didn’t have enough oomph yet but it keeps trying. I’m rooting for the sun. Every now and then the leaves move but the day is calm. It rained last night, the second night in a row, and it’s still damp.

The sun just reappeared and the sky has touches of blue. I think it will be a lovely day.

When I was a kid, some things just seemed exotic to me. Palm trees were on that list. I pictured a white sandy beach, water so clear you could see the fish and a line of palm trees along the sand. I imagined drinking from a coconut just knocked from the tree. I think it was Swiss Family Robinson which conjured my imaginings. When I saw my first palm tree, I wasn’t disappointed.

The desert was also among my exotic imaginings. I saw myself dressed like a Bedouin and riding a camel. My clothes were bright reds and greens and blues, and I wore a cloth across part of my face to keep out the sand. I could see myself sitting on the saddle as the camel slowly walked across the desert. It must have been a movie which had me imagining the Sahara as I don’t think any of my books did.

New England is the least exotic place I know, but I figure for some people New England and all it offers might be part of their imaginings. Sledding down a big hill in winter, collecting shells along the shore, swimming in the ocean and eating freshly caught fish might just be part of someone’s dreaming.

February 16, 2012

February 14, 2012

Pretty Snowflakes: Patti Page

February 11, 2012

“Dusting is a good example of the futility of trying to put things right. As soon as you dust, the fact of your next dusting has already been established.”

February 9, 2012

On the ground this morning was a dusting of snow. I even hesitate to use dusting to describe that snow, but I don’t know a smaller word for the amount on the ground. When I went to get the papers, the air reminded me of early spring when the mornings are chilly but hint of a warmer day. It is only 39° now but it is supposed to be in the mid-40’s later. I know this is only February, and I know spring is a long way off, but I can’t help but think of spring on a day like today.

More and more shoots are above the ground in my front garden. A seed catalogue comes every day, and I look through it trying to decide what flowers to add to my garden this year. I have a side garden now which runs along the driveway and needs filling. I have a feeling the garden store staff will applaud every time they see me coming. There might even be balloons!

Today is in-house chore day with washing to do, plants to water, my bed to change and a few places which need polishing. The book-case is so disgusting I could write a novel in all the dust. I’d need a clever title or I could just steal Butler’s title The Way of All Flesh.

Somehow or other all of my doctor’s appointments seem to come in the spring. I figure there is some weird connection between them and the rebirth of the Earth.

For years, I made special dinners and invited friends. I usually made something I hadn’t ever made before because I enjoyed hunting through cookbooks, imagining how the foods would fit together and then preparing the dishes. Lately I’ve been saving recipes and thinking about cooking again. I also just bought a new cupcake pan and want to give it a try. I’ve always been a cake person, but I’m willing to branch out to make a few of cake’s smaller relatives.

Well, the dust is calling me and I need to get the wash going. Today is just going to be one of those days. I’ll hate it, but at the end, even all that cleaning will give me a sense of accomplishment.

“There’s a certain nostalgia and romance in a place you left.”

February 7, 2012

Mother Nature must be really in a pleasant mood as today is nearly 50°.  The sun is beautiful with a backdrop of the bluest sky and nary a cloud in sight. The fact I have to go to the dentist today is mitigated by how wonderful a ride it will be. That, I never expected.

Walking to school every day only bothered me in the rain. I didn’t mind the cold; my mother was a bundler. In pleasant weather the sidewalk was shaded by leaves from the giant trees which bordered it. We walked over railroad tracks, the same ones we followed as far as we dared on our Saturday excursions. One side ended not far from where I crossed them, but I never found the other end. I still don’t know where they ended. It’s one of the mysteries left over from my childhood.

When I visit my sister, I take the same routes I used to walk as a kid for the sake of my memories and a bit of nostalgia. Sadly, most of the old houses I used to pass are gone, replaced by brick apartment buildings. The tracks too are gone. The trees still stand tall along the sidewalk, but they’re all that’s left. As I pass the familiar streets, I tell myself things like the red store used to be there, the white one there, the lady from France lived in that house and the house on the hill was where the Kimballs lived. My mother and the Kimball’s mother went to high school together. I don’t remember how many kids she had, but there were many. Their house always seemed to need paint. The shortcut I used to take through the grass from Pomeworth Street is now a real walkway with steps. I think it was put there because across the street from the end of the shortcut is housing for the elderly. My father used to call those apartments Wrinkle City. His mother lived in one of them. One of my uncles lives in one now as does the aunt who is younger than I am. Driving by the apartments, I still chuckle a bit and think of my father.

My turtle was buried in a tin box in the woods that used to be where the apartments are now. As I drive by, I approximate the exact burial site. Grass is there now. I wonder if anyone found the tin.

Football

February 5, 2012

I spend over an hour looking for football songs I could have played the Monday Night Theme but it isn’t Monday. Some of the rap songs I hated. I couldn’t find the L.L. Cool j download or I’d have played that. Sorry for only 2 songs this mighty weekend!

“One advantage of talking to yourself is that you know at least somebody’s listening.”

February 4, 2012

Saturday just isn’t as interesting as it used to be. When I was a kid, it was cartoons , Howdy Doody, Annie Oakley and all the rest day. It was eating cereal in front of the small, black and white TV set with the wooden doors. In college, it was recuperate from Friday night day. It was a day to do absolutely nothing until party time Saturday night, and there was always a party. When I was working, Saturday was errand day. It was ride around town, do some shopping to perk the soul and spirit, hit the grocery store and maybe meet friends later for a drink or two.

Since I retired, I can do all of my errands any day of the week. Saturday has slipped into being just like all the other days. Its only redeeming quality is the SyFy (silly darn spelling) channel which often shows really bad movies all day. I miss the old Saturday.

We’re back to the 40’s again while my sister in Colorado is buried under two plus feet of snow. Even the schools were closed on Friday, a most unusual event for Colorado. We have sun and blue skies and a bit of a breeze. All in all it’s a pretty nice day.

I called my sister yesterday so I could hear a human voice. My other sister called me. It was a banner day for conversation. Moe talked about the snow and how happy she was that they had shopped before the storm. Her street hadn’t been plowed since the morning, and it was late afternoon. Gracie in that much snow would be hidden, and her movements would resemble those of the giant worms in Tremors where all you saw was the ground rippling.

Today has been a mishmash. My mind is a potpourri of useless tidbits, of space fillers. It seems all the outloud talking I’ve been doing to myself is finally taking its toll. I even think I’ve started answering.

The Way We Were: Barbra Streisand 1974

January 29, 2012

Happy Birthyear Sprite!