Posted tagged ‘patience’

“A movie is not a movie, it is a potential nuclear furnace of inspiration, courage and conscience.”

July 6, 2017

The last couple of days have been beautiful: sunny, clear and free of humidity. The nights have been wonderfully cool for sleeping. The weatherman is predicting rain for tomorrow. I’m fine with that as we haven’t had rain in a while.

The tourists have descended. The weekend started Thursday night and lasted until yesterday when the line of traffic wanting to cross the bridge reached back 6 miles.  Local traffic too has been horrific. Trying to get out of a parking lot and cross a line of traffic is nearly impossible. Yesterday I sat so long that I finally went right when I really wanted to go left. I pulled into a street on the left and turned around so I could converge with the single lane of traffic. It does seem silly this roundabout route but waiting is futile and even sillier. My patience will be constantly tried until after Labor Day. My vocabulary will be reduced to four letter words.

I’m back to watching MSNBC. My short hiatus made me hungry for news especially with Mr. Trump in Germany meeting with Merkel and Putin with no script, just off the cuff. I find that scary. He has little command of English vocabulary and reverts to simplistic words when specific words would carry so much more weight. My favorite Trump quote today is that the US will confront North Korea’s, “Very, very bad behavior.” Is a time-out an appropriate response for bad behavior? Sometimes, but I’m not sure it is enough for, “Very, very bad behavior.” That sounds like cause enough for being grounded.

Gracie has an appointment today off-Cape with an internist, a specialist. Other than the weakness in her back legs and the head tilt, everything else is back to normal. Her vet said there are brain lesions probably causing the two issues.

I have a few things on my to-do list. I finally bought replacement flowers for the dead ones in the pots. I’ll plant them when I get back from the vets. The deck still has a bit of caterpillar poop that needs cleaning so I’ll water the pots then spray the deck.

The premier for 2017’s movie night will be this Saturday. For opening night, we always have dinner first so I have to figure out what to serve. Also, the red carpet has to go down, the corn needs popping and I have to choose the movie candy. I have three or four new movies and will let my guests decide. I’ll let you know.

“Even in the familiar there can be surprise and wonder.”

November 8, 2013

Late, late start to Coffee this morning as I went out to breakfast down Cape then had one more errand to do. The breakfast is a once a month get-together of women with whom I’ve worked who are now retired. Sometimes we are many. Today we were few. It doesn’t really matter the number. It is still the chatting, not the eating, which is the best part.

I went home on the Mid-Cape Highway, Route 6, an anachronism of one lane in each direction. A slow car always has a line stretching behind it because that part of the road is a no passing zone. The two lanes are separated by permanent cones down the middle of the road. Being impatient doesn’t help. I just go with the flow. Today as I drove I noticed the scrub oak trees along the roadside were either covered in faded red leaves or dead, brown ones. Soon enough the trees will be bare.

The day is sunny. I noticed in the backyard the sunlight is slanted through the trees in an odd direction as the Earth makes its autumn move. Darkness comes so very early now. The house was cold when I woke up, and I just wanted to nestle under the comforter for a bit longer. Gracie didn’t mind so she stayed cozy beside me. Fern, on the other side, was just as cozy. All of us are into creature comforts.

When I fill out a form on-line, I often have to include my date of birth. The month and date are quickly found, but I have to scroll way down the list to find the year. That always surprises me even though it shouldn’t.

I buy shoes on-line, and they have always fit, but I do miss that big metal sizer they used in shoe stores. When I was a kid, I had to stand up while the shoe-man measured the size and width of my feet. They were always longer than the last time. That never surprised my mother. Sometimes we outgrew the shoes before they wore out.

I was not a fan of many vegetables when I was young. I loved peas and corn and potatoes. Mostly we ate canned vegetables back then except for corn in the summer. As I got older, my list of vegetables expanded, and I ate them fresh. I always believed they were the healthiest. Come to find out they may not be based on the distance from field to grocery store. Farm stands probably have the best fresh vegetables, but grocery stores don’t. Frozen and even canned vegetables may have more nutrients than fresh. That surprises me.

I like surprises, even in vegetables.

“Even a snail will eventually reach its destination.”

February 2, 2013

I’m walking on sunshine! I slept through the night and for the second day in a row no mice graced my trap which will now be moved into the eaves to see if there are any left hiding from me, but I’m thinking no more midnight mouse runs for Gracie and me. I’m sure she’ll be disappointed.

In the Globe this morning was an article about the US becoming a nation of the perpetually impatient. People under 35 lead connected lives with”…a need for instant gratification.” Researchers found people can’t wait more than a few seconds for a video to load. Two seconds was the average. “After five seconds, the abandonment rate is 25%. When you get to 10 seconds, half are gone.”

I am guilt of impatience, but I have always been impatient even since I was a kid. I tapped silverware at the table and drove my mother crazy. At the subway station I leaned over the tracks to see if the train was coming. My mother always grabbed me back. If we were going somewhere, I was always the first one ready and expected we’d leave on time. That seldom happened, and I’d moan and groan and throw myself down on the couch in frustration. That went on my whole life until I went to Ghana.

Ghana runs on two-time tables: Ghanaian and European. If you were going somewhere with a Ghanaian and you were making plans, a given time always elicited the question, “Ghanaian or European time?” Ghanaian time mean anytime: an hour, two hours or even three hours after the planned time. European time meant the actual hour. I learned that 7 o’clock meant I didn’t even have to start getting dressed until 8 or even later. If I arrived by nine, I was probably early. Buses in the lorry park left when they were full. Sometimes that meant waiting hours. I’d sit under a tree and read. When I was hungry, I’d buy some donuts, one of all time favorite Ghanaian treats, or groundnuts or whatever the small girl was selling from the tray on her head. Impatience was wasted energy. It changed nothing.

The tailor promised my dress would be ready by Tuesday which became Wednesday when probably meant Saturday or not. I never got angry or annoyed. The tailor was just taking his time, his Ghanaian time.

Once I sat at the Yeji ferry site for four hours while we waited for some government higher up who wanted the ferry there when he arrived. I drank some water with floaties (we always bought the beer bottle filled with water which had the least amount of floaties), ate some plantain, took some pictures, sat on an overturned boat and read and watched all the people. Finally the guy came and we boarded the bus when was then loaded on the ferry. I wasn’t frustrated or impatient. I knew better.

When I came home, my lessons were, over time, unlearned. The bar was higher here. I expected people to be on time. I expected busses and planes to leave at their appointed hours. I got annoyed and frustrated when they didn’t.

When I went back to Ghana, I right away fell into Ghanaian time. The lessons I had learned way back were still ingrained. “Less tomorrow,” a Ghanaian would tell me. That always meant another day yet to be determined. I was only to happy to wait.

“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”

March 5, 2012

Sorry for the lateness of the hour, but I had my yearly physical this morning, the last of my scheduled yearly or semi-yearly appointments. I have now crossed off three doctors and a dentist. All that’s left is to schedule my eye appointment.

When I was a kid, I only saw the doctor if something happened or I was really sick which was seldom. My parents were of the generation which didn’t see doctors for well visits. My mother was sick one Christmas in Colorado and my sister dragged her screaming to the doctor who said she had pneumonia. That was her first visit to a doctor since my sister had been born over forty years before that. I have a stable of doctors, or at least that’s what I call them, as several parts of my body have their own specialists. It seems the older I get the bigger the stable.

It is cold today but sunny, and the sun is warm. My car was hot when I left the doctor’s office. A wind is swaying the tops of the pine trees and blowing the dead leaves hanging off the branches, but I think I’d call it a pretty day if anyone asked.

When I set up an appointment for next year’s physical, the receptionist asked if I had any preference for a day. I said no. I didn’t tell her they’re all the same to me, that they are my days to do what I want. She asked if morning was okay. I said no. Once a week I set my alarm to meet my friend for breakfast at nine, and I don’t fancy setting it for any other day. My alarm clock is battery run, and I only put in the battery when I need to use the clock so the battery and clock sit idly on my bureau. I don’t even wear a watch though I did bring one to Ghana last year which is funny when I think of it. Ghana runs on its own clock. The time is arbitrary. Meet me at nine means nothing of the sort to a Ghanaian. It really means meet me whenever. The buses run by the Ghanaian state transport leave on time, but they only go to major stops. The other buses which go from town to town and village to village leave when they are filled. That sometimes means waiting hours.

I am by nature impatient, but I became patient when I lived in Ghana. After I got home, the patience wore off. Last summer it came back, and it was one of the favorite parts of my trip: remembering that life isn’t a whirlwind. Things will get done. You just have to be patient.