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“Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness. “

January 15, 2016

It is warmer today than it has been. I didn’t gasp from the cold when I went to get the papers. It is around 40˚  and will even be a bit warmer tomorrow; however, the cold will be back with a vengeance on Tuesday so these warm days are a bit of a gift from fickle Mother Nature. Gracie and I have a few things to do today so I’m glad for the winter warmth.

My heat is forced hot air. I hear the blast when the furnace goes on. When I was growing up, we had forced hot water. I used to love the sound of the radiators. It was comforting in a way. A few years ago I lost electricity because of a winter storm. My house was 37˚ before the heat came back on. I don’t ever remember losing electricity in the winter when I was a kid. I remember we lost it during a hurricane when a tree fell on the wires, but that was in late summer. I never felt inconvenienced. I doubt kids do. Most things become an adventure of sorts. Having to use candles for light and the barbecue for cooking was a kind of camping, but at home with comfy beds and no mosquitos. I thought it was great fun.

I still love adventures. Around here I go for rides down roads I’ve never been on before. I take all lefts or all rights and am always surprised by what I see. I went to Morocco on my own, and that was an adventure. I did all right turns in the souk one day. I loved everything I saw and found. At one point I had no idea where I was, but I didn’t care. I knew I’d eventually find my way. I just had to choose a direction.

I love my life, but sometimes I wish I had more money to travel. I want adventures in places I’ve never been before. I want to get lost.

 

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“Life is more fun if you play games.”

April 21, 2013

Last night was cold, and today is chilly though the sun is warm. I envy Fern who is sprawled on the mat by the front door in the sun. Her fur is hot to the touch. Cats know how to live.

My tulips have bloomed. Their bright red is eye-catching. The hyacinths are pink and white and purple and are in the front garden where everyone can see them. My neighbor called and thanked me. She said she looks out her front window often to see how beautiful the colors in the garden are.

I only remember pansies from when I was a kid. They were the only flowers my father planted in the small garden near the front door. I loved their faces. To me they had eyes and mouths and different expressions and they all looked like they were wearing bonnets. I expected them to break out in song. Their voices I figured would be high like the voices in the old cartoons. They’d sing and bob their heads in unison.

When we were really little, my dad would lie on the floor and raise his legs just a bit. We’d get on his feet, stomach first. He’d then raise his legs all the way and up we’d go as high as his legs would take us. He’d hold our hands and spin us using his feet.  We’d laugh the whole time. The worse part was we had to take turns. Even this ride had a line.

I loved it when the whole family would jump into the car for a Sunday ride. My dad would pick back roads, and we’d see farms and cows and sometimes horses. My brother and I each had a window. On warm days I’d open the window, and stick out my hand so the wind could blow it.

When I was growing up, my parents did all sorts of stuff with us. I doubt they knew how important all of it would become, how it would become part of who we are now. They gave us a love for museums, the fun of taking a ride with no destination, and the best of all, playing games together at the kitchen table. Tonight my friends and I will play Phase 10 and Sorry, a game I’ve been playing since I was six.

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“In America, there are two classes of travel: First class, and with children.”

July 10, 2011

The sun is shining, the day has a breeze and breakfast was delicious. I had dropped eggs on toast as we used to call them when I was little. It had been so long since I’d last had them, I enjoyed every bit. From there on the day got miserable. I won’t go into a description lest I put you off your feed for days, but I will say the best part of the rest of the morning was finding cat throw up in two places, including the couch. Let your imaginations soar for the rest.

Today I have a couple of errands, but I won’t go until later in the day when the crowds are lounging on the beach catching rays.

I remember best the tartan jug which always came with us on family outings. It came with us to the beach, the drive-in and on long rides anywhere. I can still see my dad tipping the jug to get the last of the bug juice. Once it was gone, all of us being thirsty at once was inevitable.

Needing to go to the bathroom was a mortal sin on any drive. It irritated my father beyond description. Once he’d stopped, we were all forced to go whether we needed to or not. Beware my father’s wrath if any of us had to go within an hour or two of the last stop. Moaning and crying that we didn’t have to go then made no difference. A pit stop was a family affair.

We seldom stopped at other than picnic areas. My parents packed most foodstuffs because a food stop was too expensive. Once in a while we’d stop for ice cream, and that was always a huge surprise. We’d stop at stands to buy fresh corn and tomatoes, but they never counted. They were vegetable stops. I’d look out the window at all the places along the road. Their big wooden signs advertised hot dogs, hamburgers, candy and popcorn, and I’d wish we could pull into the parking lot, but we never did; instead, I’d reach into the picnic basket for a bologna sandwich and a couple of Oreos.

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“We are born charming, fresh and spontaneous and must be civilized before we are fit to participate in society.”

June 21, 2011

Maybe the string of lovely days needs no further mention here because every day is lovely. This morning, when I was on the deck, my back was to the sun so I could watch the birds, but I had to switch chairs. My back got too hot. Gracie, smarter than I, stayed in the shade under the trees and fell asleep, but she followed me when I came inside. She’s now asleep on the couch. The nights too are wonderful, cool and perfect for sleeping. From now on, I’ll mention weather aberrations, like rain.

I don’t remember minding the heat when I was a kid. I also didn’t mind getting sweaty or dirty. My standards for cleanliness were minimal. My mother’s were a bit higher, and I always had to wash my hands before I ate lunch. Something about my grabbing a sandwich with filthy hands was too much for my mother’s sensibilities. I didn’t really care. The faster I ate, the faster I could be back outside.

My friends and I used to do rides, and we’d take turns packing lunch and choosing the surprise destination. Some rides meant hitting the highway for a while. One ride was an all day trip to Vermont. Another was to Brewster, the next town over. The only rule for the ride was it had to be completed in a single day. I always made mint brownies for my dessert. They were a hit.

We were far more spontaneous, spur of the moment back then. I remember the doorbell ringing around 2 am, and I opened the door to find my friends standing on the step. His first tomatoes were ripe, and I was invited for BLT’s. I got dressed and joined them. We had BLT’s and mimosas until the sun rose.

Now I have all the time in the world, but I don’t tend to do the impromptu. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s time to pull out that mint brownie recipe and make a few calls.

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“Sun is shining. Weather is sweet. Make you wanna move your dancing feet.”

May 29, 2011

This morning’s weather is the same as yesterday’s, cloudy and damp. I just hope the day turns as lovely as yesterday’s did. ‘Tis the season of pine pollen which now covers everything, including my car. I have to clean my windshield so I can see before I drive. The deck too is covered in lime green, a Popsicle lime green.

Lots of people around this weekend. Even the summer church is open. My breakfast place had a line outside the door by the time I left. We generally figure the tourist season officially opens around the 4th of July. I’ll have to get my hunting license before then (okay, I’m kidding). The Cape Times says bookings are up from last year: oh hooray! more people filling the roads and stores. It seems I’m getting into my summer siege mentality early this year. Good thing the library is so close.

When I was growing up, my family used to spend a day at the beach most summer weekends. We’d go north to Gloucester. I think my dad wanted to keep us away from Revere Beach which still had its boardwalk and its rides. I remember coming home from visiting my grandparents and seeing the top of the roller coaster from the road. It was the highest hill, and the white rails were easy to see. When I was in high school, my friends and I would sometimes go to Revere Beach and spend the evening on the rides and walking around eating fried dough and sausage subs with peppers and onions. The boardwalk was filled with people, most of them eating something. Neon signs lit the night. The beach was right across the street. It was usually moonlit and lovely.

When I was really young, lots of my family would go to Revere Beach together for the day. My parents and my aunts and uncles took turns watching us kids while the other adults slipped across the street to a boardwalk bar. We didn’t care. We didn’t even notice. Mostly I remember the gray sea wall, blankets and towels spread on the sand, pails and shovels to make castles and picnic baskets to rummage through. On the way home, those baskets were still filled but not with food. They carried shells and driftwood and all the other treasures we’d found.

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