Posted tagged ‘chilly’
November 1, 2015
This morning it sprinkled a bit, and though it has stopped, the clouds remain. Today is chilly and dreary. When I look out my windows, I see more and more dead leaves hanging from the oak trees. A small tree with some red leaves is all I have left of the colors of fall. Hunker down time is nearer and nearer.
Night has begun encroaching. With the change in time, with the end of daylight saving, it will come earlier. When I was a kid, I didn’t understand the whole idea, but I didn’t like it. My afternoon play time was less because the street lights came on earlier. I thought that was a cheat somehow, a parental ploy to get us to bed earlier.
We always had November 1st off from school because it was a holy day of obligation. That was one of the perks of attending a Catholic school. We had to go to mass then the whole day was ours. Today is the holy day and a Sunday. You get to knock off two obligations at the same time.
Clean underwear was always a big thing with mothers. I never understood why because even without the possibility of an accident and eternal embarrassment to my mother I always wore clean underwear. I mean really who’d want to wear dirty underwear? My mother would have been better served warning me to wear underwear without holes. I had a theory that socks with holes and underwear with holes were fine because nobody saw them excluding any accidents of course. I still adhere to that theory but mostly with wearing socks with holes. I turn over the top of the socks so my toes won’t poke through. A few times I tried to darn the socks but instead I got these huge lumps which hurt with shoes on. I went back to folding. When I went to Ghana, I bought enough new underwear for every day so I wouldn’t have to wash any. I have so much now I throw away the ones with holes or loose elastics. My mother would be so proud.
Categories: Musings
Tags: chilly, clean underwear, daylight saving., dreary, early darkness, holy day, hunker down time, rainy
Comments: 14 Comments
October 18, 2015
I can’t put my finger on which one but my wheezing reminds me of sound effects from a movie. They are a bit like metal scraping metal. I’m thinking this cold and being by myself for so long are affecting my brain. Sound effects from Wheezing?
Things are getting better. The cold’s grip is weakening. I only woke up twice last night and managed to sleep 11 interrupted hours. It looks like I have to go out sometime today. I haven’t any bread or soup or anything which tantalizes my taste buds. Sweets keep coming to mind. I’m thinking chocolate chip cookies are a possible remedy. I suspect, though, I’ll probably stay home. It takes far too much energy to get up and out even for chocolate chip cookies. Besides, I think I need a nap.
The day is cold. The sun pops in and out but is merely decorative when it appears. It isn’t warmth. I turned on my heat for one cycle this morning. My bed and comforter are sounding more and more appealing.
Not being around enough people is the reason I’m sick. When I worked, I was around kids with their various ills and ailments. I developed an immunity. I don’t even remember when last I had a cold though this may be a whole different strain of something. I think I caught it during my reunion last weekend. With all those people in one room, someone must have had a germ or two and shared. How kind!
I’m combing the TV for classic horror movies. I’m thinking the Holy Trinity of Frankenstein, Dracula and The Mummy. I’m not including The Wolf Man as I always feel really sad for Larry Talbot. He didn’t deserve his fate.
I watch NCIS even though Abby and her pre-adolescent prattle drive me crazy. Just a while ago I happened on the last 5 minutes of The Brady Bunch and left it on as I wanted to watch what followed it. During those 5 minutes I had an epiphany. Abby based her character on Cindy Brady. They have the same child-like voice, intonations and the same childish indignations. Trust me on this one. The only NCIS mystery left is why the prop guy doesn’t realize we hear the echo of the empty coffee cup when Gibbs puts his coffee on the desk.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Bread, chilly, Chocolate, cold, heat, scraping metal, sick, wheezing
Comments: 11 Comments
September 26, 2015
The morning is again lovely with a strong breeze and a wonderfully bright sun. When I went to get the papers, I sat on the front steps a while to check out the neighborhood and to let the sun wash over and warm me. The leaves were rustling and the chimes in the backyard were ringing every now and then when the breeze was the strongest. The sound of the chimes is sweet. I finally went back inside drawn by the thought of my first cup of coffee.
We never had fresh orange juice. My mother always bought it frozen in the can. I can still remember how much of an ordeal it was to get the juice to the drinking stage. First you had to open both ends of the can to slide out the glob of frozen juice. The silver hand can opener sometimes cut not just the top but also the sides of the can making it harder to get the tops off. More often than not one of the tops would fall into the pitcher with the frozen juice. When digging it out, you had to be careful as it was easy to cut your finger on the sharp edges. I know from experience. We never had the foresight to take the can out of the freezer and leave it on the counter to let the juice melt. Come to think of it we probably didn’t have the patience either. I remember holding the pitcher under hot water to help along the melting, and we’d use a spoon to smash the glob into smaller pieces so it would melt quicker. When it was finally melted enough by my mother’s standards, we’d run the cold water until it was as cold as it could be from the faucet then make the juice.
We went through a Tang phase for a while because John Glenn and the Gemini astronauts drank it. Besides, it was easy to throw a few teaspoons in water then stir and drink. There was no can opener, waiting or hot water baths before drinking it. The only problem was it really didn’t taste all that good.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Bolgatanga, canned orange juice, chilly, chimes, hand can opener, hot water melting, lovely day, rustling leaves, sunny
Comments: 17 Comments
September 11, 2015
The rain fell and kept falling. It rained all day and most of the night. The morning is dark and has that damp chill which sometimes follows rain. The day is uninviting. Everything is still wet. The breeze is enough to blow the branches on the oak trees, and once in a while I can hear the swishing sound leaves make. Other than that the day is quiet.
In school, on days like today, the room was especially quiet. It was as if the darkness had spread a pall on all of us. I remember the sounds of papers being passed up and down rows. I remember heads bent over worksheets and the sounds of our pencils scratching across the papers and up and down. The nun used to sit at her desk sometimes working, sometimes just staring, maybe even daydreaming. None of us even whispered. We didn’t want to disturb the day.
When I got home from school, I had to change out of my school clothes. Most times I’d wear my play clothes, but on days like today I’d put on my pajamas and lie in bed and read. That last one was my favorite. I would grab my latest book, my Nancy or my Trixie Belden, and get comfy under the covers. The lamp on my headboard was the only light and it shined directly on the page. It was wonderfully cozy.
There is still a lamp on my headboard, but it took me a while to find one. When I was a kid, the lamps were plastic and pink. Mine used to melt when I read under the covers. The one I have now is white and the plastic is covered by fabric. It has a Victorian look about it.
I keep a stack of books by my bed because I still love getting cozy under the covers. Most times I read myself to sleep.
Categories: Musings
Tags: breezy, chilly, damp, headboard lamp, Nancy Drew, pall, papers, pencils, play clothes, quiet classroom, rain, reading in bed, school clothes, Trixie Belden, uninviting, worksheets
Comments: 4 Comments
July 18, 2015
The weather is unsatisfactory. It is cloudy and chilly with a strong breeze verging on a wind. Rain is a maybe later this afternoon. Tonight is movie night so I’m hoping for the sun to rise dramatically with a ta-da soundtrack and chase away the clouds. The breeze can stay.
I am not a huge fan of westerns. I suspect it was because I spend enormous chunks of time when I was young watching them on TV. Every Saturday I got to watch The Lone Ranger, Sky King, an odd take on a western with a plane instead of a horse, Roy Rogers with his wife Dale Evans, Annie Oakley, Fury, The Cisco Kid and Pancho, Will Bill Hickok, Rin Tin Tin of at ease, Rinny, fame, and Tales of Texas Rangers. I figure there are more, but this blog entry would go on forever.
Night too was filled with westerns. Gunsmoke was on for close to a hundred years and there were others including Sugarfoot, Cheyenne, Judge Roy Bean, the law west of the Pecos, The Texans, Have Gun Will Travel (for the longest time I thought it was half gun and wondered how he managed), Texas John Slaughter who wore that great hat, The Range Rider, Wagon Train, suave Yancy Derringer and Pahoo-Ka-Ta-Wah, Maverick, a personal favorite, and Wild Wild West, my all time favorite.
TV was where I first saw science fiction jump off the pages of my books to the screen. Captain Midnight, brought to you by Ovaltine, and his sidekick, Ichabod Mudd (with 2 D’s) fought the good fight against evil men everywhere with help from his Secret Squadron (that would be any of us, the TV audience, who mailed in an Ovaltine proof of purchase). I watched the recycled Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon serials, Commando Cody who had a jet pack and wore an odd helmet when he flew and Tom Corbett Space Cadet. That last one reminded me we used to call kids who were way out there space cadets. It was not a compliment.
TV program outcomes were never in doubt in those days. The hero would always win. In westerns he’d have a fist fight and generally keep his hat on. It didn’t matter how many times the good and bad guys hit each other as there were never bruises and never blood. The worst thing was a dusty shirt and hat.
I believed for the longest time good always triumphed over evil. Even now I’d like to think it’s true.
Categories: Musings
Tags: breezy, Captain Midnight, chilly, cloudy, Gunsmoke, Roy Rogers, Science fiction, Sugarfoot, The Lone Ranger, westerns
Comments: 14 Comments
May 19, 2015
The day is dark, chilly and damp. Rain is expected. I’m guessing just as Gracie and I leave for the dump the skies will open and the rain will fall in sheets. I noticed the red spawn has been at the potted flowers again and there is soil all over the deck railing. This morning the spawn ran from the feeder as soon as I picked up the hose. It is wary now from too many showers. I’m thinking a slingshot.
When I was a kid, I seemed to be busy all of the time. I’d have school until 2 then rush home to play for the rest of the afternoon. My mother would call us inside close to supper time. I’d do my homework, have supper, watch some TV then get ready for bed. The day was spent in a flash. The whole week passed by almost before I’d noticed. Each Saturday and Sunday had a bit of a routine but those two days never seemed long enough.
During the summers when I was in high school, I sometimes whined and complained about having nothing to do. That drove my mother crazy. We didn’t have summer jobs back then so there was little to do all day long. What had delighted the kid me didn’t seem interesting any more. I didn’t ride my bike or walk to the pool or go to the playground. I just sighed a lot.
The summer after high school was when I got my first job: forty hours a week at Woolworth’s. It was the easiest job, and I jumped around doing all sorts of stuff to keep from getting bored. The only place I didn’t work was the food counter. I loved Woolworth’s food counter. It was straight and long with red vinyl stools moved in a circle for east seating. The women were all old, at least to me, and wore uniforms. Most had huge handkerchiefs as decorations atop their pockets. They kept pencils behind their ears. The wall had all the menu items listed including the flavors of ice cream. The dessert dishes had fluted tops. They were used for sundaes like my favorite of all, hot fudge. Real dishes were used for the sandwiches. They were whitish with a red ring around the inside rim. The hot dogs were wonderful cooked on the grill. The French fries were crisp and hot. Sometimes I’d have a grilled cheese sandwich, perfectly brown and gooey.
My mother and sister used to go to their Woolworth’s for a patty melt. The counter there was huge but divided almost into little islands each with its older lady taking orders. I went with them a few times, but it was sometimes a hot dog for me and other times a club sandwich. Colored toothpicks were in each section of the club sandwich to hold it together. The toothpicks were wooden. The sandwich was always delicious. I miss Woolworth counters.
Categories: Musings
Tags: being a kid, bored, chilly, colored toothpicks, dark and damp, food counter, hot dogs, hot fudge sundaes, older waitresses, playing. going to school, rainy, red spawn, tuna melt, whining, Woolworth's, working
Comments: 48 Comments
March 28, 2015
Saturday has always been the best day of the week for me. Torrents of rain falling, snow covering the ground (notice I said covering) or winds tossing tree branches back and forth have mattered little to me. They are merely dramatic backdrops. On Saturday’s I don’t have to go anywhere. I don’t even have to get dressed. I love Saturday’s.
Today is rainy. Yesterday was rainy. It will rain all day into the night. The snow is just about gone. That makes me happy and even hopeful.
On Easter Sunday, my sisters loved their pouffy dresses, their white ankle socks with ruffles and their patent leather shoes. I wore dresses as well until one Easter when I wanted a more casual look. I ended up with a suit and a pink blouse with a Peter Pan collar. I don’t remember my shoes, but they weren’t patent leather. Maybe I was channeling my future self who thought she’d be a lawyer. Every Easter, in the afternoon, we’d go to my grandparent’s house in the city. Everyone was there: my aunts and uncles and too many cousins to count. I remember a conversation I overheard just before going into the kitchen. My name was mentioned so I stopped to eavesdrop. My aunt wanted to know why I wasn’t in a dress and why I was totally poufless. My suit didn’t pass muster. My mother simply said it was what she wanted.
My guest has left. She is on her way to Pittsburg. We had a wonderful visit. We toured the cape, stopped at a few shops and had a wonderful shrimp dinner last night. I had to chuckle as she always introduced herself as Francisca and then went on to say Miss Ryan was my Peace Corps teacher in Ghana 43 years ago. We laughed a lot. That’s what she thanked me of the most.
Categories: Musings
Tags: chilly, Easter clothes, good-bye snow, Laughter, patent leather shoes, pouffy dresses, rainy, Saturday, shrimp dinner, touring Cape Cod
Comments: 10 Comments
April 13, 2014
The morning is cloudy, but I don’t mind because the sun will appear later. It is chilly but not cold. I love saying that. I think of it as the difference between winter and spring.
The kid down the street rides a four-wheeler. He went from a tricycle to a bike with training wheels. I have no idea how extra wheels train a kid to balance on a two-wheeler. It is one of the mysteries of life. I didn’t have training wheels when I was a kid. I had my mother. She held on to the back of the bike as it wobbled, and I pedaled for all I was worth hoping to stay upright and moving. I remember my mother rode my bike first to show me how easy it is to ride. I was amazed. My mother could cook and clean but I never really thought too much beyond those. That she could ride a bike was a revelation. We were on the side street in front of my house. I was afraid she’d let go, but she didn’t for the longest time. When she finally did, I just kept on moving. I was a bike rider.
Okay, next I’m talking feminine undergarments. If you want to leave now, please do. Just hop on down to the next paragraph. Remember you were warned. I never had training wheels on my bike, but I had a training bra, the purpose of which flummoxes me even now. What was I training them to do? No tricks ever came to mind. Later, when I was much older and out of training, I did think of tassels but that’s a whole different conversation and profession. How long we had to train was arbitrary. Each mother made that decision. I didn’t train for too long. I must have been a quick learner.
My first job was at a Woolworth’s, the summer after high school, and I had to be trained. It was ridiculous. I was shown how to work the cash register and had to prove I could make change. The right way to stock shelves was explained and demonstrated. I was glad for that because I probably would have put the articles upside down or backwards on the shelves except for that in-depth training. I really hated that job, but I lasted the whole summer.
I had to student teach my senior year in college. Nobody called it training though that’s exactly what it was. There I was standing at the front of the room facing an entire class of kids who knew I was inexperienced and suspected I was scared. They were right. My lead teacher watched for a few weeks, gave me pointers and then she let go just as my mother had. I had no trouble staying upright, but I still needed to pedal for all I was worth.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bikes, chilly, cloudy, job training, learning to ride, mothers, student teaching, sunny, training bras, training wheels, Woolworth's
Comments: 12 Comments
October 15, 2013
The night was chilly so the house was cold again this morning. I threw on my sweatshirt and started the heat. The house is now cozy and warm. The sun is streaming through the front door and Fern has staked her spot. Gracie is having her morning nap. All is right with my world.
I have a few errands today then I get to watch Red Sox baseball at four. I think that’s a strange time for any game, let alone an ALCS game.
The Lone Ranger and Roy Rogers were on this morning, and I watched them both with the critical eye of an adult. Poor Tonto was simply the “Injun” and was told to be out-of-town before nightfall. The town set was composed of building facades though a few long shots were filmed outside. The Lone Ranger explained as he did on every show that he was on the side of the law despite his mask. He and Tonto fought, defeated and captured the bad guys as they always did. The Lone Ranger and Tonto said good-bye, and as they were leaving, someone wanted to know who that masked man was. The sheriff said, “That was The Lone Ranger.” The end of the program was the familiar scene of the Lone Ranger and Tonto riding out-of-town on that dirt road with rocks on each side. The Lone Ranger shouted,” Hi-ho, Silver, away,” as our two heroes rode off side by side.
Roy Rogers was actually filmed outside, no fake scenes there. Roy had his whole crew: Dale on Buttercup, Pat driving Nellybelle, Bullet running along side and Trigger. Dale wore great outfits with lots of fringe. I chuckled at hearing little lady and old-timer being used. When I was a kid, I never thought about this program as being modern, 50’s modern. It was just a western to me despite the jeep. In this episode, a fake federal agent even wore a suit and tie, but Roy and Dale were faithful to their western roots. Roy wore his two-gun holster while Dale’s had only one gun. They both wore tooled boots, and Roy wore his cowboy hat. At the end of the program, I got to sing along with Roy and Dale. “Happy trails to you until we meet again.”
Categories: Musings
Tags: ALCS, Bad guys, Baseball, Bullet, chilly, Dale Evans, jeep, Lone Ranger, old-timer, pretty day, Roy Rogers, sun, Tonto
Comments: 38 Comments
August 29, 2013
Today is dark, damp and chilly, but I don’t mind. My dance card is empty so I’ll probably just stay around the house and read. Last night I started a book called The Altar of Bones. It will keep me occupied.
I feel witless today. Nothing of import rambles in my brain. I looked out the window over the sink for a long while waiting for the coffee to brew. The male gold finches are at their most beautiful. Their feathers are deep yellow and striking in the darkness of the day. I noticed the red chests of the house finches. Even slight colors pop on a day like today.
For the longest time, probably well over twenty years, the walls of my house were white. Color came from whatever I used to decorate. One year, though, when it was time to repaint, I decided to go with color. I didn’t just choose pale or pastel colors. Nope, I went put on your sunglasses bright. The living room is lipstick, a deep red. I chose grey as its companion color. The bathroom went pink, bright in your face pink. Nutmeg was my choice for the dining room, and it is my favorite of all the colors. The kitchen is green but an odd color green difficult to describe. The hall is blue, a light blue. Upstairs the hall is grey because the walls leading to it are red. The open linen closet is red, sort of the living room in reverse. My room is a bright yellow; the guest room is deep blue and the bathroom was lilac. I say was because that bathroom is now blue-green to match the new shower curtain, but I liked the lilac so much I used it downstairs in the once pink bathroom. I like the lilac better.
All this talk of color has reminded me of my Crayola crayons, the box I always got for going back to school. There were 48 colors back then. No other kind of crayons would do. They would be an embarrassment, just pale imitations of Crayola crayons. I remember opening the box and getting my first whiff of those crayons. It was a special smell that only came from a box of crayons. I’d look at those perfect crayon tips lined up in the box then I’d pick the crayons up one at a time to see the name of the color. I learned burnt Sienna is a sort of brown and periwinkle is a kind of blue. It wasn’t just a red crayon in that box. It was brick red or violet red. Yellow was lemon yellow, as bright as the fruit. There were new words for me to learn like magenta, thistle and maize. The colors were the hints.
I have a commemorative tin of Crayola Crayons. It contains all 48 colors that were in my box some of which have since been discontinued. The tin isn’t valuable in money, but when I open it, I smell the crayons and see those tips lined up in a row, and I am seven again. That tin is invaluable to me!
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, blues and green, brick red, chilly, cloudy, Crayola crayons, damp, gold finches, house finches, lipstick red, magenta, maize, paint colors, Prussian blue, the whiff of crayons, yellow
Comments: 20 Comments
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