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“I went to a restaurant that serves “breakfast at any time” so I ordered French toast during the Renaissance.”

March 1, 2013

Gracie and I finally made it to the dump yesterday morning then we went to Agway, a store which welcomes dogs on a leash. It was a perfect Gracie day. In the afternoon it rained a little, but in the late afternoon the sun made another attempt to break through but wasn’t successful. I figure the sun got a bit miffed and decided to stay away a bit longer. Today’s weather is like yesterday’s and the day before that and on and on: cloudy with a chance of rain. The forecast does change a bit for tonight: cloudy with a chance of snow showers. I’m beginning to feel like a mole. (Since I posted this the sun has managed to break through the clouds for just a little while. At first I thought it was a meteor signaling the end of the Earth but my instinctive memories managed to resurrect the word sun.)

I was a cocoa drinker most school mornings when I was a kid. My brother or sister (I forget which one) was a tea drinker. My mother always served the tea in a flowered pot. Thinking back on that, it’s kind of neat to have a pretty pot on the table in the morning though back then I didn’t appreciate the gesture. My cocoa was made in the cup. My mother would put some cocoa granules in the cup, add some milk, stir the two together then add hot water. The cocoa always had some bubbles on the top. We  usually had toast, and in the winter my mother would make oatmeal to sustain us on the cold walk to school. My favorite breakfast was boiled eggs served in egg cups. The eggs cups were yellow chickens. Many were missing their beaks. My mother toasted the bread and sliced it into strips so we could dunk it in the egg. She’d cut the top off the egg and we’d dunk for the yolk. I have those egg cups now. My mother gave them to me when I moved into my house. She thought I should have some memories from my childhood. The egg cups have Fannie Farmer etched across the bottom. I never noticed that when I was a kid.

I had cereal for breakfast yesterday for the first time in years. I think that’s why my childhood breakfast memories popped into my head. Cereal was our warm school morning breakfast and our Saturday morning watch TV breakfast. My mother had boxes of different cereals lined up in the kitchen. My brother liked Cheerios. I was a Rice Krispies fan. I think Corn Flakes also made an appearance though we thought it was an adult cereal. It didn’t do tricks like snap, crackle or pop. I like Corn Flakes now so maybe we weren’t far off. I think a banana really dresses up a bowl of Corn Flakes.

This morning I had coffee and an onion bagel with cream cheese. It was a most satisfying breakfast.

Categories: Musings
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Comments: 30 Comments

“Sewing mends the soul.”

February 28, 2013

Since Sunday it has rained every day but one. That was the teaser day when it looked as if spring was finally poking its head out of the snow, but that was just a single joyful day. Yesterday it poured and today is dark and grim, the kind of day when you know it’s going to rain but don’t know exactly when. Gracie and I haven’t yet done our dump run. It was pouring too much. We’ll go today before it starts to rain.

My neighbor is taking classes to be a masseuse. She asked if she could practice on me. It took me a nano second to agree. Yesterday I got a wonderful massage. She spent over an hour making me so relaxed my limbs forgot how to work. It was wonderful! When I was leaving, she asked if she could practice on me again and give me another massage. You can guess my answer!

The pant leg of my cozy pants caught on the bureau knob and a small hole became a large one. I grabbed my trusty stabler. I do have a sewing kit complete with everything I could have needed to sew the hole shut, but the stapler worked quickly and the hole disappeared. I just hope the staples don’t rust in the wash!

When I was in Ghana, I made my own bedroom curtains, a feat for which I felt accomplished because of my total lack of sewing skills. I could have had them made, but I wanted to give them a try. My room had a whole wall filled with two really large, long windows and another wall with a much smaller window. These windows had screens, and glass pieces like shutters which opened and closed with levers. I measured the length and height of the windows using a piece of cloth I already had as the measuring piece then went to the market and bought a cloth which was sort of a rusty-brown. The cloth had a pattern at the top and the bottom. I cut the cloth into three window pieces, hemmed the bottom of each so the pattern was still there then used string under a top seam so I could attach the curtains to the windows as I had no rods. The curtains looked great and gave me a sense of privacy, a rare commodity those days in Bolga where a white person was a curiosity.

I also made a lamp shade. I used a beautifully colored basket I had bought in the market. Since those days, Bolga baskets can be bought here and are really expensive. They are distinctive with their vibrant colors and handles with red leather. I probably paid a cedi or two and was definitely paying too much as bargaining still meant I’d over-pay. I cut out the bottom of the basket and fashioned a holder for the lightbulb from a hanger to replace the bottom. In my living room I had one light bulb on a long cord hanging from the really high ceiling, and the shade was for that bulb. Once it was attached to the bulb, it looked great though the room was far less bright than it had been. The top rim of the basket made a circle of light on the floor beneath the shade. In the rainy season, the buggy season, that circle light would be black by the end of the night, black with dead bugs.

I didn’t make anything else for my house. Those two, the curtains and the shade, were my only attempts at domesticity.

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“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”

February 24, 2013

I heard the most welcome of sounds when I woke up this morning, the sound of rain on the roof. I didn’t hear people shoveling or a plow working its way down the street. I heard heavy rain, and I was glad. The day may be dismal and dark, but the rain is a bright spot, sort of oxymoronic I know, but that’s the way it feels.

I am going to Hyannis today. It is really not very far, but I sometimes think of the journey as a trek of sorts. I’m attending a luncheon with the Cape Cod Returned Peace Corps group. We get together every now and then. The last time was in October for the dedication of a stone we’d purchased with a plaque on it celebrating fifty years of Peace Corps and honoring all who served. This luncheon is to recognize Peace Corps week. It starts early so I should be home early which is perfect as I have promised Gracie we will go the dump even if it’s still raining.

When I was younger, not young, but younger, never did I imagine I would pamper myself so much. My groceries were just delivered by Peapod, and they’re already put away. I didn’t have to go up and down aisles silently cursing the aisle hogs or make three or four trips from the car to bring the groceries into the house. When snow fell the last two weekends, I waited for Skip who plowed out my car, the driveway, the mail box and the place in front where I usually park. He shoveled two walks. My front lawn is covered in small, broken pine branches felled by the winds. The back yard has several larger branches on the ground, also victims of the wind. I know in a few months my landscaper and his crew will come and spring clean both yards. Roseana and Lee will be here this week to clean the house. They come every two weeks. I do cleaning in the off-week but usually as little as possible. I have had cleaning people for years, even before I lived here. They date back to when I had a roommate and we shared a house. We both worked, and that was our excuse for housecleaners. She got married and sold her house so I bought my own house. For a long while I cleaned it myself due to finances, not a work ethic, but as soon I could afford it, I hired housecleaners again. When I stopped working, I still kept the housecleaners. Age and a bad back finished off my shoveling career. When I redid the yard, I used a landscaper and decided he was the best choice to keep the grass green and free of weeds. I am, for the most part, a woman of leisure though I am still stuck making and changing the bed and doing laundry. I guess we all need a bit of suffering to keep us humble.

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“Fate: protects fools, little children, and ships named Enterprise.”

February 23, 2013

This morning I went out to breakfast then did a couple of errands. Each week I keep track of the number of miles I travel just for the heck of it. When I turned on the car this morning, I saw I’d gone 8 miles since Sunday. I must be hibernating. There is no other explanation. I know I don’t get dressed in real clothes (by this I mean outside clothes) most days, but, instead, I wear comfy flannel pants, slippers and a sweatshirt. I shower for the sake of cleanliness and brush my teeth every day. I spent one day and a half cleaning and a few other days reading. I went to a wake, but I didn’t drive so no credit for the mileage. Throw in a few afternoon naps, and we have this week and 8 miles until today. I have now doubled my mileage.

It’s another ugly weekend with cloudy skies. A snow storm is coming tomorrow but not here. We’ll get the rain. We have been spared. North of us will get the snow, amounts not yet determined. The weather is the topic of conversation just about everywhere and is always the lead story on the news.  Even today’s Syfy lineup of movies is into weather. You have to love these titles. I figure each one gives away the whole plot. Right now I’m watching Storm. Later will come Lightning Strikes, Metal Tornado, Super Cyclone and the evening’s big movie, End of the World. I’m glad I have popcorn.

I admit it. I have been to a couple of Star Trek conventions. My sister and I even dragged our mother to both of them. We didn’t wear uniforms or alien make-up, but we were no less fans than those who did. It was fun walking around the booths and going to the different discussions. We even got to see actors from Star Trek, The Next Generation. We both are still into Star Trek, and every year I give my sister the newest Star Trek ornament from Hallmark for her birthday. We are only missing the first one which is now too expensive to buy. It’s a collector’s item, and this collector wishes she were wealthier.

I guess I’m happy the word geek didn’t arrive until after I’d grown up.

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“The sky is the daily bread of the eyes.”

January 31, 2013

The wind howled all night and rain pounded against the windows. I heard it when the coughing woke me up, but I didn’t mind being awakened as I might have missed the rain, one of my favorite sounds. The howling wind was a bonus. It could have been from the soundtrack of an old black and white horror movie, like The Werewolf.

Yesterday morning I called my friend of over forty years, and he thought I was a guy named Paul. That was it for me. I called the doctor. They wanted me in right away. I think my coughing during the phone call worked to great effect. Come to find out my cold has morphed into bronchitis and was working its way toward pneumonia. I’m on all sorts of stuff right now which should make me sound far less like Paul and more like me.

It’s still windy and rainy. I had to convince Gracie to go out this morning then I ran for the papers and yesterday’s mail which was still in the box. The mail was boring. I have to get Gracie’s license today. It is, of course, the very last day to get it without an extra fee. I like living on the edge!

At the doctor’s they told me I needed to rest. I almost laughed out loud. Rest is my middle name. I love a good afternoon nap.

Because I haven’t seen anyone or been anywhere, my life has no new stories and no new people. I communicate entirely by phone. I spend the day reading and relaxing. I know, I know, a really tough way to while away the day. I’ve been reading David Baldacci, The Forgotten, and I like it. I stretch out on the couch with my afghan covering me and my dog beside me. If I weren’t sick, I’d think my life idyllic.

The rain has stopped, and the sun is out. The sky is mostly blue. I can still hear the wind, and through my window I can see the swaying branches of the oak and pine. It looks like a pretty day.

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“Cold! If the thermometer had been an inch longer we’d have frozen to death.”

January 19, 2013

Yesterday, my plans worked out perfectly. I didn’t get dressed, I took a nap and I read. Even Gracie spent most of her time inside on the couch curled up on her afghan. Her few trips outside were mission oriented and quick: a run down the deck stairs, a squat and a run back into the house.

Winter days like today remind me of when I was a kid and felt perpetually cold walking to and from school every day. Staying home, despite snow or frigid weather, wasn’t an option unless I had the plague. We walked to  and from school no matter rain nor snow nor dead of night, okay, maybe not that last one as I might be exaggerating just a bit. The worst days were on rainy days in winter when it was cold. We’d get soaked and so freezing we’d actually look forward to getting to school where it was dry. My school had tall radiators which hissed steam. They were on the side near the windows and in the back of the room, but we seldom noticed them beyond the first few days after the heat was turned on for the winter. It was like white noise. The ceilings in the old school were so high that it usually took a while for the room to be really warm so most of us wore sweaters over our uniforms.

On the windiest winter mornings, I froze the whole walk to school despite the layers my mother had piled on me. Because the wind was bitterly cold and in our faces, my friends and I would hold hands and walk backwards away from the wind. When we arrived at school, our cheeks were sometimes so red they were sore, and our fingers were numb despite our mittens. The cloak rooms would be bursting with bulky coats hanging off hooks, and you couldn’t walk through without knocking someone’s coat on the floor. My hat and mittens were up my sleeves for safe keeping. I didn’t mind missing recess on those cold, rainy days.

When I’d get home wet and cold, I’d change right away. That was when I first learned cozy.

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“As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!!!”

January 17, 2013

Yesterday it poured all day, but off-Cape had snow so I’m not complaining. Miss Gracie and I did a dump run, and I didn’t even bother to change out of my flannel pants and sweat shirt. The dump was pretty empty in the rain.

The mouse count is now 14. Two got caught yesterday: one in the plastic trap and one in the have-a-heart. I have a story. The one in the plastic trap was making so much noise scratching and banging that it woke me up. I wanted to sleep in peace so I decided, despite the dark and the rain, to take it outside. I walked across the street, my usual deportation spot, and was about to open the trap when I heard, “Hello.” I just about jumped out of my skin. I turned around and all I saw was a light, not a flashlight but a bigger light. “Who is it?” I asked. “Billy,” was the answer. It was my neighbor carrying the light, an umbrella and a huge cup of steaming coffee. He was walking Cody, his dog. I asked the time. It was six o’clock. He wanted to know why I was in the rain, in the dark at six o’clock. I told him about my mice. He said he was sorry.

When I was a kid, I never did see much wildlife where I lived, maybe a skunk or two but that was about it. We saw cows at the farm and animals at the zoo but nothing exciting in the woods. Here on the Cape I’ve seen deer, rabbits, foxes, wild turkeys, coyotes and the common skunks, raccoons and ugly opossums, though that last one is redundant. I didn’t mention the spawns on purpose. The coyotes are common but usually at night or early morning. I used to see them on my way to work. They all looked healthy. I know one is around here when the rabbits disappear and when I can hear the horrible screams of the prey when the coyotes hunt. I never worried about Gracie as she is too big to interest a coyote. A friend once saw a coyote dragging her small dog by its hind quarters trying to take it. The dog was crying and scratching the ground in an attempt to get some traction to run. My friend saved her dog who only had a few bite marks. Another friend’s dog, another small dog, was attached to an overhead line in the backyard. The coyote grabbed the dog in its mouth and ran. When they got to the end of the line, the dog popped right out of the coyote’s mouth and was saved. The wild turkeys are the most fun to watch. They travel in fairly large groups, fluff their tail feathers as they run and make all sorts of noises. They’re now pretty common, but the first time I saw them I stopped my car to watch.

Wild turkeys can fly unlike the ones on WKRP in Cincinnati, a program I used to love. I’ll never forget the program entitled Turkeys Away. In a Thanksgiving promotion the station decided to give away turkeys and to drop them from a helicopter.

“It’s a helicopter, and it’s coming this way. It’s flying something behind it, I can’t quite make it out, it’s a large banner and it says, uh – Happy… Thaaaaanksss… giving! … From … W … K … R… P!! No parachutes yet. Can’t be skydivers… I can’t tell just yet what they are, but – Oh my God, Johnny, they’re turkeys!! Johnny, can you get this? Oh, they’re plunging to the earth right in front of our eyes! One just went through the windshield of a parked car! Oh, the humanity! The turkeys are hitting the ground like sacks of wet cement! Not since the Hindenburg tragedy has there been anything like this!”

 

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“You dirty rat…”

January 14, 2013

The weather hasn’t changed. It is a grey, dark unseasonably warm day. The paper says a high of 48˚. I guess this is the January thaw except nothing needed thawing except the tiniest blots of ice still left on corners from the plows during that ersatz snow storm.

The mouse count is higher: 6 have been relocated. The latest one got caught last night, but I left him in the trap all night. That’s the last time I’ll do that. It was a small one which was shaking when I let him go. He was so unsteady on his feet he had to stay a while in one spot. I watched until he finally moved across the street with a bit more confidence. I don’t want mice in my house, but I also do not want to be responsible for their demise. If the cats get them, that’s fine with me, but I won’t use a deadly trap.

While I was waiting for my coffee to finish brewing, I went to the window to watch the birds. What did I see? A spawn of Satan was dangling on my new suet feeder gnawing on the wooden top trying to get at the suet. I ran outside to scare the beast and was amazed at how wood he’d already eaten away. I got my cayenne pepper and smeared it all over the gnawed sides and the top. The big birds love that feeder because it has a long bottom which allows them to rest their tails on it while they eat. A flicker was there just now when I got another cup of coffee. The rain hasn’t washed away the pepper-I can still see it. I hope that keeps the spawns away.

The rodents have a vendetta against me. Somewhere, in rodent headquarters, my picture or a reasonable facsimile, is on the wall. The beasts meet periodically to figure ways to drive me crazy. The huge, fat spawn which can barely jump from limb to limb is probably the leader. He riles the troops. The mice find the smallest holes and get inside. The spawns mock me by eating not only the seeds but also the feeders.

I’m beginning to think I’m losing it here. It is Gaslight reinvented. The mice and spawns are out to drive me crazy. I’m just so glad the 6 ft fence keeps out the raccoons and the skunks. That would be too great a coalition even for me.

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“I cook with wine, sometimes I even add it to the food.”

January 13, 2013

Last night I went to bed early for me, around 9:45. I had watched one exciting football game, the Ravens and the Broncos, and decided all that excitement had made me tired. About 11:30 I was woken up by banging sounds. My mouse trap had captured another victim, making the count three, one for each day. The mouse wasn’t at all happy and was banging from inside the plastic trap trying to get out. I figured I’d take it for a ride in the morning, but it was banging so hard the trap was actually sliding across the shelf. I got up, put on my sweatshirt and slippers, called for Gracie to get off the bed, got my keys and the three of us drove about four blocks away. I stopped the car and let the mouse loose, wishing it well on its continued journey through life. Gracie and I got home and went back to bed but not before I reset the trap. At 2:30 the banging started again, another mouse. This time I wasn’t getting up. Let it bang! Well, the mouse banged so hard it somehow got out of the trap. I had lost mouse number 4 so I got up, reset the trap and went back to bed. Not ten minutes later the idiot mouse was stuck in the trap again. This time I got up and did it all over again: I put on my sweatshirt and slippers, called for Gracie to get off the bed, got my keys and drove the three of us about four blocks away. I got out of the car and let the mouse loose. I hope it finds it friend, at least he’ll have a neighbor he knows. That’s 4 mice in 4 days.

It is 3:45, and I’m sitting at my computer wishing I were tired enough to go back to bed. It’s warm outside but it’s raining. Gracie is asleep on the couch curled in her afghan. She is no dumb animal. Nope, the dump animal is typing. Luckily, though, I can pass the time by watching the Earth self-destruct from volcanic eruptions.

Many years ago I’d often be getting home around 1:30 or 2 after a Saturday night of carousing with my friends. We’d start with dinner then hit a few bars. In those days not many bars were opened all winter, and we were a caravan of cars looking for oases of sorts. A few of my friends bartended at night, and we always stopped at their establishments for a drink or two and to say hello. We never stayed long anywhere. Part of the fun was the bar hopping. We didn’t care if there was music. We enjoyed each other’s company and laughing and talking together. Sometimes we ended our evenings with breakfast as Hyannis had a place which served all night. It was generally pretty rowdy by three or four in the morning.

I can’t even imagine having the stamina to do that again. Now my carousing starts by 5:30 or 6 and ends by ten or as late as eleven when I start yawning. I still have a good time, just a shorter good time.

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“Snow and adolescence are the only problems that disappear if you ignore them long enough.”

December 30, 2012

The snow started around 11 last night. The flakes were big and wet, the sort that doesn’t seem to have much future. I went to bed really late, around 2, and was awakened not long after by the beep beep of a plow backing up. By then I think there were only a couple of inches. Sometime during the night rain mixed with the snow. This morning I expected a winter wonderland; instead, the snow is pockmarked, crusty and hard. I had to beat the snow to get it off the back window and the trunk so I could bring in the dried dog food. The weatherman says sun later. It’ll take a lot of sun to melt the crusty snow still on my car windshield.

This first storm of the season was a bust though I suspect if it weren’t I’d be complaining about shoveling and extracting my car from behind the tall heaps left by the plow. I think I can just drive my car over the small mound in front of it. I know I don’t need to shovel as I walked out and got the papers without a problem. Looking out the front door is keeping Gracie entertained. My neighbor across the street is shoveling his driveway, a quick, easy task with so little snow. He just pushes his shovel down to the end then back up the driveway again. Voila! The driveway is cleared.

Birds have been swooping in and out of the feeders all morning. A couple have tried to drink from the bird bath, but it is frozen. I’ll have to go down to the cellar later to find the heater. Yesterday I filled every single feeder and put out the new ones I got for Christmas. The birds should be pleased with the variety and the plenty.

Yesterday I really didn’t do a whole lot. I finished The Panther by Nelson DeMille. I liked it enough, but 900 pages was daunting as the book didn’t read as quickly as the other DeMille’s I’ve enjoyed. I started a new book, Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore. My iBook is filled with lots of books to read so I’m happy! Winter is a great time to stay comfy curled up with a book; of course, summer on the deck is also a great time for reading. The breeze is cooling and a good book is enthralling. Then again, we can’t forget spring or fall. each of those seasons lend themselves to reading as well.

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