Posted tagged ‘quiet’

“My idea of absolute happiness is to be in bed on a rainy day, with my blankie, my cat, and my dog.”

May 12, 2018

I’ve been lazy this morning. I didn’t get out of bed until 9:45. Henry finally drove me out  by jumping on and off the bed.

Henry never walks. He sounds like a herd of horses when he runs down the hall. Yesterday he seemed afraid to use the dog door, but today he went right outside. Last night he wouldn’t come near me. I dared to try to put his harness on him, notice I said tried. Today he hasn’t left my side except to eat and go into the yard. I am so very patient with my Henry changing from day to day.

Today is dark with clouds. It is supposed to rain later. I can feel the dampness in the air. Earlier, I could hear hammering but not now. It is quiet. The wind every now and then is blowing the top most branches.

When I was a kid, a Saturday like today was a disappointment. The impending rain meant staying close to home. The house felt crowded with all of us in it. The TV was blaring. My brother watched from the couch. My sisters played dolls on the rug in the living room. My mother was usually in the kitchen, hiding from the noise and us. My dad watched TV when he came home from his Saturday uptown errands. My refuge was my bedroom. I’d get lost in a book and everything else would fall away.

I’m putting my laundry on my to-do list but in italics. I really don’t feel industrious enough to do anything let alone laundry and all it ensues, but I don’t like seeing the filled laundry bag in the hall. My solution is to throw it down the cellar stairs.

Yesterday I swiffered the downstairs. I don’t know why Henry isn’t bald. The Swiffer pad was covered in fur. I even had to change it. Today I picked up a few new clumps. Sisyphus had his rock. I have my dog fur.

I need more bird seed and I need bread. I’m thinking of going to Cape Abilities Farm which teaches skills to adults with disabilities. It will have all I need and far more.  I usually end up with a carriage full of fruits and vegetables, cheese, frozen chicken pie, fresh bread, and cookies. I also need a plant for my front steps and a hanging one for the deck. I do love shopping there.

My house is cold. I’m thinking a hot cup of coffee is a perfect remedy.

“Your words become your world.”

March 6, 2018

No sun again today, just clouds, darker than yesterday. The wind is brisk and cold. It is another stay cozy and warm at home day. I have a few things I could do like the laundry and changing the bed, but I don’t want to do anything so I won’t.

When I was working, I got everything done. The house got cleaned, the laundry washed, the groceries bought and the trash dumped. Now I have all the time, day after day of time, but I procrastinate. Like Scarlett, I think,”After all, tomorrow is another day!”

I have redefined my lexicon. I have removed words like lazy and non-productive; instead, I stress lifestyle words like settled and describe myself as comfortable and undemanding. I still long to travel, and that won’t ever change. It is in all capital letters should you look it up in my lexicon.

I live on a small street with nine houses. Three of the houses have kids. Three have dogs. This time of year I hear only an occasional dog barking. I know when the mailman comes. I can hear his truck. A few cars go up and down, but they usually belong to neighbors. If I’m out, we always wave. Some of us have lived on this street since the beginning when the houses were first built. My neighbors across the street are the oldest residents. I don’t see them much anymore. He has Alzheimer’s and she is his caretaker. Seldom do I see any of my other neighbors. I rarely see any of the kids. I’m beginning to think we’re all in a hibernation of sorts.

Another nor’easter is predicted but not fierce or damaging like the last one. We will get rain; snow is north of us. The rain in winter always seems to come in at an angle, driven by the cold wind. It lashes against the windows in a constant barrage of heavy, noisy drops. The cold air is so damp it chills to the bone. Streets flood. The ground is hard, and the rain has nowhere to go. I have no affection for winter rain.

“Turkey is undoubtedly one of the best gifts that the New World has made to the Old.”

November 25, 2017

When Gracie and I went out earlier, I was surprised by how warm a morning it is. The sun is shining, and there is a slight breeze. It was quiet except for music from the radio of a car being parked next door. The car belongs to a man who works for my neighbor, the landscaper. When he opened the car door, the music stopped. It was quiet again. I was still in the backyard waiting for Gracie. She took her time. I didn’t mind, though, as I got to be outside enjoying the morning for a bit.

My groceries are being delivered in a while. I open the door, and they are brought to the kitchen where I start putting them away. When I shopped, I aways hated bringing the bags inside the house as it took so many trips. Now I complain about putting the groceries away.

Last night for dinner I had leftovers. They were almost as good as the Thanksgiving meal.    They reminded me a turkey is never a single meal. It seems to last forever. First is the grand meal then hot turkey sandwiches that night, cold turkey sandwiches piled high with stuffing and cranberry sauce the next day or two then turkey salad and finally turkey soup. My dad was a champion at picking the meat from the turkey bones. I think he looked forward to it every year. Not even the smallest piece of meat escaped him. He left an empty carcass.

This weekend will be a quiet one. I have nothing planned. Tonight I’ll watch a new Hallmark movie. I don’t know what it is, but I can guess. The possible plots are easy: two people will meet on a plane or a train or at the airport and fall in love, a curmudgeon will do a Scrooge like make-over and love Christmas, a kid will get his wish, someone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas will find it in his or her heart and in doing so will fall in love.

I’m watching the antithesis of those Hallmark movies on a program called Homicide for the Holidays. I figure it will counteract all the sugar from Hallmark. I just watched a detective at his desk talking on the phone about murders during a house invasion on Christmas Eve. Behind the detective were Christmas decorations. A gold garland outlined the window and cards were strung on a string across it. Quite festive indeed!

“He yawned like a black bear coming out of hibernation.”

November 18, 2017

The sun has disappeared. Nothing is moving. The day is warm and quiet. Gracie and I went out first thing. She went into the backyard and I got the papers in the front. When we came back inside, Maddie gave me her demanding meow, loud and annoying, so I fed her first. Gracie was next, and I, as usual, was last. It’s two cups of coffee and two pieces of toast later, one with grape jelly my friend made.

I’m not sure why, maybe it’s the return of the gray day, but I have very little energy today. I even sat a while between cups of coffee, most unusual for me. Luckily, I have no plans for the day, no errands and no chores. I do have book two in the series by Elly Griffiths so perhaps the couch will be my spot for the day and turning pages my only activity.

I send cards for every holiday. That started when I was in college. My grandparents were around then, and one of my grandmothers was thrilled to get them. She was the one who wanted to be teacher so she loved that I was. I enjoy choosing the cards and lament my Hallmark store having closed. The closest one is in Orleans which always feels far but is only 12 or so miles away. When I was in Ghana, I made cards for every holiday except Christmas as I could find those. I used to go through magazines and cut out words and letters to make my cards, They looked more like ransom demands than cards. The Christmas cards I sent were wonderful. Some were hand-painted but even the ones commercially made were different. They had African nativity scenes, drummers, palm trees and even a camel or two. Each time I went back to Ghana, I was excited to find cards for Christmas. They went to family and special friends. I always send Edward Gorey cards to every one else for Christmas. I love his whimsey. The Edward Gorey house is in Yarmouth, and I go there to buy my cards. I remember last year I was afraid I had already sent all the available scenes but was glad to find one more. I’m hoping for the same this year.

I’ve started yawning which gives you a sense of today and the weather and today and me.

“It was Sunday morning, and old people passed me like sad grey waves on their way to church.”

October 15, 2017

I’m wondering where the sun is hiding. The day is damp and cloudy. It’s a quiet day, no breeze rustles the leaves and no voices are loud enough to be heard. I have to go out and do a couple of errands later and tonight is game night. That’s like a full day for me.

When I was a kid, the expectations for Sunday were pretty much nonexistent. It was a nothing day much the same week after week. It started with church. The only unknown was which mass I’d attend. Would I go early with my dad, the usher, or later by myself or with my brother? Sunday dinner was the biggest meal of the week. It was always a roast, sometimes a roast beef and other times a whole chicken. It was the one meal all week where we all sat down to eat together though my mother sometimes stood by the counter to eat. On weekdays my dad was late getting home from work so he was never there for dinner. We were usually watching TV when he got home.

Once in a while, on a Sunday afternoon, we visited my grandparents in the city. I was amazed by the city. Houses were close together. The Italian bakeries sold pizza. A house down the street sold Italian ice through an open window. On the corner of my grandparents’ street was a private club. My uncle was a member. I remember going there once for a family party.

If we didn’t go out to visit, we’d sit around watching TV until my dad took over and turned to a football game. That sent us to the kitchen to play a board game or down the cellar to play. If I had a book, I’d go read it in my room away from the noise. My mother cooked in the kitchen. She peeled potatoes and opened cans of vegetables. We usually ate around two. Most times there was no special dessert. We’d grab cookies.

Sunday night we’d watch a bit of TV then it was early to bed because of school the next day. We always grumbled. That never got us anywhere except upstairs to bed at our regular time.

“Quiet diplomacy is far more effective than public posturing.”

August 18, 2017

Yesterday was a perfect day. The weather was warm but breezy enough to keep the heat at bay, the sun shined all day and we even found a table by the water at lunch. My sisters arrived with cake and presents. We went to lunch at one of my favorite places. As a surprise my sisters had invited my friends, and I was definitely surprised. My lobster roll was filled with huge chunks of lobster and the fries and onion rings were perfect. Just ask the gulls who snapped up the French fries we threw on the rocks. After lunch we came back to my house for cake and ice cream and presents. My sisters had chosen the best cake, mocha, and my favorite ice cream, coconut. After that, I opened my presents and was overwhelmed by the generosity of my sisters and my friends. We then sat on the deck a while chatting and laughing. I can’t imagine a better day, a better birthday.

Today is cloudy and a bit humid. The breeze is blowing the top branches of the oak trees. Rain is predicted for later. I do have to go out but not far and off the main roads. The bird feeders need to be filled again, and the fountain is empty of water. Gracie drinks much of the water away. The fountain is the perfect height for her. I fill it, she drinks it and we do this several times a day. She has a water dish on the deck but she ignores it. Dogs aren’t logical.

Quiet seems to be the order of the day after the excitement of yesterday. I don’t hear a sound: not a kid, not a car and not even a bird. I had Alexa play sixties rock, but I kept singing with the music instead of writing so I turned on the TV to MSMBC. It is still reacting to Trump’s latest diatribe so I turned that off. Instead, I watched the Food Channel with Giada who was making a Peruvian chicken dish and showing pictures of her trip to Peru. I suppose I could just turn off the TV, but I’m not in the mood for quiet, for silence. I have stuff I could do, but I don’t want to do them. I’m just fine with being a sloth, napping on the couch, wearing my comfiest clothes and going barefoot.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

August 11, 2017

The early morning was cool. Gracie wanted out before six so out we went. It was quiet. My newspapers hadn’t yet been delivered. Gracie finished her business, and when we came back inside, both of us fell back to sleep.

The sky is gray for a while then the sun breaks though for a short time, but the grey clouds never quite disappear. The sun does. The humidity is returning today.

Next door is still noisy but not as much as yesterday. The digging has stopped. The rest of the neighborhood is quiet. Even the birds aren’t singing. I figure they feel as oppressed by the clouds as I do. It seems to be getting darker though rain is not in the forecast.

I haven’t anything to do today. My house is clean, the laundry isn’t worth washing, too few clothes, and I don’t need any groceries. I suppose I could clean things like the bookcases filled with stuff, but I figure that’s over the top and good for a winter’s day. The downstairs plants do need watering so I guess I’ve found something to do. Hurrah!

I’m seeing commercials for survival food good for 25 years. I’m going to pass.

Many of the commercials are aimed at my generation because we, the baby boomers, are a bulge on the population chart and are so much older now. Today I watched one for the stair climber. Reverse mortgage is Tom Selleck’s ad. Another one is for insurance to pay off all the bills left when you die. Local Cape ads tout retirement communities with all the amenities including a doctor on call. AARP is all over the dial, okay not the dial but the remote though it doesn’t matter, you get the idea. I chuckle at the commercials for Consumer Cellular. Every actor is older, my age older, as in the older woman who reminds us we had to go to the library to look up stuff. She uses her cell phone for a walk in a field with her friends, a GPS app I figure, and says we can learn new technology. I’m so glad to hear that!