Posted tagged ‘sloth day’

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

January 15, 2018

It seems I get later and later which reminds me of the nursery rhyme about the scholar who used to come at ten but now comes at noon. That fits me perfectly. My late mornings are because I have been going to bed so late or early depending upon how you see the day. It was close to 3 this morning before I went to bed, and then I read a few pages.

When I went to get the papers, there were snow flurries. I swear that happens only when I go outside. They fall for a short bit then disappear. I have a vision of Old Man Winter tossing out the flurries as soon as he sees me. It is cloudy and cold still and will stay that way all week. The weatherman probably describes it as seasonal.

Today is a sloth day. I don’t need to go out for anything so no need to get dressed. My house is clean so no strenuous dusting. I could make my bed, but it is upstairs where no one can see it. I suppose I could bring the clean clothes up from the cellar as they have been down there quite a while. No, on second thought, they can stay there for a while longer.

I didn’t watch MSNBC today. The he said, he didn’t say is still the lead story. I believe he said that. Our president has no filters when he speaks off the cuff.

The two years I spent in Ghana were the most amazing years of my life. The country and its people stay in my heart. I always speak of Africa in superlatives.

Today is Martin Luther King Day so I have posted excerpts from Martin Luther King’s speech delivered on August 28, 1963 at the Lincoln Memorial during the March on Washington.

“And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

And this will be the day — this will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim’s pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.”

“Laziness is the first step towards efficiency.”

November 24, 2017

Gracie and I slept so late it was mirror to the nose time. After I finally woke up, I didn’t rush but rather took my time completing the usual morning tasks. Feeding Gracie came right after setting the coffee to brew. The papers took a while to read, and I had to do the crossword puzzles. Despite the hour being closer to lunch, I didn’t skip breakfast: toast with my second cup of coffee.

I have designated today sloth day.  I’m not even dressed. All the sales don’t even tempt to go out, but I will shop tomorrow on small business Saturday as I still need a few gifts. Last night I went through a clowder of catalogues (I choose clowder because I like the alliteration) and found a few smaller presents I’ll order on line tomorrow. My list is short. I’m getting close to the end.

Dinner yesterday was wonderful. My plate was so filled I couldn’t eat it all and had to take home a doggie bag.  There was turkey, of course, gravy, mashed and sweet potatoes, green beans, stuffing and cranberry sauce.; however, despite this groaning plate, I did find room for  dessert: creme brûlée. My logic was it is a light dessert, easily managed. I ate every bit. Now I am looking forward to tonight’s dinner: leftovers.

The restaurant was filled. The whole time we were there not a single table stayed empty for more than a couple of minutes. We sat one tier up from the windows and had a panoramic view of the ocean, close to the shore and calm with no white caps, and we watched the spectacular setting of an orange-red sun bright with light as it disappeared below the breakwater. It was a perfect ending to a lovely day with friends, dinner and leftovers.

“If I’m out of town and I’m in a situation where I have to be creative, it has to be hot dogs because that’s my comfort food.”

July 23, 2017

The song of the morning is “What a Difference a Day Makes.” We have a breeze. The humidity is much less than it has been the whole week. I have doors and windows open. The air from the window behind me is even a bit chilly. Earlier I did see a bit of blue but now the sky is gray. It is only 72˚ and the high will be just 75˚. That’s delightful, gray skies or not.

Sometimes, when I wake up, I have no idea what day of the week it is. It’s not all that important in the scheme of things, but I admit to being somewhat curious. Mostly what I did the day before is the key, but if it was a sloth day, I have to think a bit harder. It was so much easier when I worked. The days never blended together. Which day of the week made a difference then. It doesn’t anymore.

I was busy on the deck yesterday. I replaced dead with living plants in the smallest pots. I watered all the plants and filled the bird feeders. The birds seem to prefer the feeders hanging from tree limbs. I still need to get the fountain working and put the new lights on the deck rail for the spawns to eat.

I’m beginning to feel like Old Mother Hubbard. My cupboards are bare. When I open the fridge, I’m blinded by the light as the fridge is mostly empty, but I have some cheese so all is not lost.

I think the kids in my neighborhood have been kidnapped. My advice is not to pay the ransom. The quiet is wonderful. I hear only the singing birds. If this makes me a crotchety old lady, then so be it.

I really like hot dogs in toasted rolls. They are best grilled or fried though I’ll even eat them boiled. At Fenway they do both. First the dogs are boiled then fried. I’m not a fan of kraut on my dogs, but I do like chopped onions. I’m a mustard and piccalilli aficionado but relish will do. I like all sorts of mustards though yellow mustard is low on my list. When I was a kid, yellow mustard was all we had. No one ever used ketchup on a hot dog. It was for burgers, one of my all time favorite foods. I, however, am partial to mayonnaise on my burgers. I even use it with French fries.

I haven’t had seafood for a while. I’m thinking scallops or fish and chips. I have to go out later so I’m going to treat myself at Captain Frosty’s. Their onion rings are the best. I’m already salivating at the thought.

“Every day my mother had tea. My dad has his ritual cigar. They had their evening cocktail. Those rituals were done nicely, with flair and feeling.”

March 27, 2017

Today is chilly, damp and cloudy. Last night it rained, and the ground is still wet. More rain is expected today. My dance card is empty so I’m staying close to hearth and home. I’m declaring today a sloth day. It’s a sit on the couch, watch TV, and snack day. It is comfy clothes including a sweatshirt that has seen better days. It is not fit for public viewing.

It has been a quiet news day. The front page of the Globe had only a single Trump article, and it was at the bottom of the page: “Trump girds for tax fight and Prepares to reverse Obama climate plan.”

When I’d visit my mother, she and I had rituals. We’d sit for hours at the kitchen table playing Big Boggle. We’d order take out for dinner. She paid and I picked up. On Saturday, we did some shopping. Both she and I liked off-beat places, never a mall. Sometimes we’d venture afar. One Saturday we went as far as North Conway, and we shopped and had lunch. We were gone so long my father figured we were lost, wandering aimlessly from backroad to backroad. Little did he realize that my mother and I loved backroads, even when we had no idea where we’d end up. On Saturday night, depending on the season, my father barbecued. It was always a couple of different meats, chips, a potato salad or pepper and egg. Chinese sausage was the favorite meat one year, but my mother’s marinated steak tips were perennial favorites. On Sunday morning my dad went out early for donuts. He was a plain donut guy, and he spread butter on it. He’d then start cooking breakfast. It was always eggs, bacon and toast. The eggs were easy over and the bacon crispy. I’d sit at the kitchen table to keep him company    Sometimes I was on toast duty. Sunday afternoons were for cribbage. When I won, it was the luck of the draw. When my dad won, it was expertise. I lived to skunk him.

“Please let a little water be brought and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree.”

April 2, 2015

Today started out cloudy, but the sun is peeking through and chasing away the clouds. The sky is getting bluer and bluer. It is my sloth day, the only day this week with no appointment. I have a chore, an odd one. I need to put the new flag holder outside on the tree. That’s it for the day.

Today is Holy Thursday, Maundy Thursday, a Christian holiday celebrating the Last Supper so the service is always at night. Part of the service is the ritual of the washing of feet meant to symbolize how Christ humbled Himself and washed the feet of the disciples. I never went to church on Holy Thursday. I always figured Sunday was more than enough for the week except for one special year, the year my grandfather was having his feet washed by the priest in a re-creation of what happened at the Last Supper. No way was I going to miss that. My grandfather was a short, gruff man filled with self-importance. He wasn’t a warm man. He wasn’t one of my favorites. My mother and I sat together in the church. I assume my father was there but he didn’t sit with us. One of my favorite parts of that service was the waving of the incense. The altar boy filled the gold incense burner and the priest sort of waved the burner to each section of the church. The incense smelled exotic. I still love that smell. The highlight of the evening, of course, was when the men walked barefoot onto the altar and sat on stiff chairs with red leather on the back and on the seat. I have no idea why I remember that. All of the men wore suits and sort of looked a bit silly being barefooted. My mother and I watched quietly until it came to my grandfather’s turn. He gave the priest one foot which was washed then dried and then gave the priest the other foot. My mother and I started laughing quietly. We couldn’t help it. My pompous grandfather looked so solemn. That made us laugh even harder. Our shoulders were shaking and the pew was shaking, but we didn’t utter a sound the whole time. We tried to stop but couldn’t. We didn’t dare look at each other. I can’t imagine what the people around us thought.

When the service was over, we hurried outside and started laughing again. It was hysterically funny to both of us. We never did tell my father. We didn’t think he’d appreciate the humor of it all.

“If you want a neat wife, choose her on a Saturday”

March 21, 2015

Today is a down day for me. Last night it snowed about 2 inches, and it is snowing right now. Earlier this morning, it was large, wet flakes but now the flakes are smaller and more apt to accumulate. The grass I could see is now buried. The tree branches have their layers of snow back. The winter seems endless, and I am well beyond my tolerance point.

Gracie and I are going to the dump later. I figure it will be fairly empty on a day like today. After the dump I will do nothing and continue my nothing pattern into tomorrow. This was a busy week for me. I don’t like busy weeks.

When I think back to winter Saturdays when I was a kid, they were always filled. The snow was fun. Our sleds got quite the workout all winter long. Every new snow fall meant the roads were covered, and the hill was ours. There was also the matinée. It was about a twenty-minute walk uptown to the movie theater, but we never thought about the time or distance. We walked most places all winter. Late Saturday afternoons were for inside and playing board games on the living room rug. We’d lie close to the board, each of us usually on one side of it. We played Monopoly, but it was never a favorite of mine. Finishing it usually took far too long, and it had little excitement except for hoping not to fall on a property with a hotel. We played card games like flap Jack, crazy eights and the most boring game of all, war. Sometimes, when I’d been outside too long and was still cold, I’d get comfy under my covers and read. I always had a book. Trips to the library were usually once a week, sometimes after school but mostly on Saturdays. I think Saturday was my favorite day of the week back then. When people ask me if I like being retired, I tell them it’s like every day is Saturday.

“A man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner.”

September 21, 2014

The day is wonderfully warm but cloudy. A bright sun would have been a nice touch. The breeze is strong. Pine branches are swaying, and the leaves are billowing. My neighborhood is quiet, Sunday quiet, the way I remember Sundays used to be.

Today I have nothing that needs doing. The week was a busy one so I’ll just relax in sloth mode. I’m not even going to get dressed. I earned today.

I have three dresses. Two are for summer and the third is for winter. I used to wear dresses to work every day, even in Ghana, but now I seldom wear them. They are reserved for weddings and events which happen in fancy venues. Those events tend to be special and have a dress code, unmentioned but expected.

I am drawing a blank today. Nothing comes to mind. I did think about pizza and ribs earlier, and I have no idea why. They seemed strange topics to pop into my head, but they did remind me of my mother who used to make those English muffin pizzas and freeze them for later, for snacks. She also made crabbies on English muffins and would serve them on game nights. As for the ribs, I have no idea where they came from.

My parents didn’t have much money when I was growing up, but I didn’t know that. Christmas was a wonder and under the tree was always filled with gifts. Every Easter we got new clothes. For Halloween my mother made our costumes just as my friends’ mothers made theirs. Store bought costumes had no originality, no imagination and were sort of ugly with plastic masks held on by an easily broken elastic. Sunday dinners were always special. We could count on sort of a roast, mashed potatoes, gravy and veggies. That is still my favorite dinner. Last night my friend served a roast chicken, tons of mashed potatoes, gravy and carrots. I was in heaven.

“Autumn is the hush before winter. “

November 16, 2013

Last night I went to bed early, my early around 10, and slept in this morning until 9. My back feels much better so a day of doing nothing and a good night’s sleep did the trick; of course, a day of doing nothing isn’t novel to me. I am a lover of sloth days and never need a reason to enjoy one.

Yesterday, in the late afternoon, I went outside to the deck. The air had the unmistakable smell of fall. It was earthy but not like in spring when the garden smells of newness. It was the smell of brown leaves on the ground slowly rotting away. Musky might be the better description. I didn’t need to see Gracie. I could hear the sounds of her paws as she ran on the crispy leaves under the trees and I knew exactly where she was. Leaves cover the back of the deck, the part under the trees, and I kicked a few over the side. I could have been eight or nine again and kicking the leaves      piled beside the sidewalk’s gutters. Yesterday’s leaves separated and flew to the ground, two stories below the deck. I could see my neighbor’s house and my friends’ house at the end of the street though the bare trees. The privacy brought by leafy trees is gone now until late in spring. A few birds ignored me and stayed at the feeders, mostly gold finches. I saw a woodpecker at the suet feeder. He has to eat upside down and doesn’t seem to mind. The thistle feeders had three or four gold finches all at one time. They don’t like to share on the big feeder but they don’t seem to mind sharing thistle. I cleaned out the bird bath of its leaves and pine needles then went inside the house. Gracie stayed outside.

I haven’t anything to do. There’s clean laundry to bring up but one more day won’t hurt; wrinkled is wrinkled. I have amassed a mountain size pile of catalogues so I think I’ll go Christmas shopping. The day is cloudy and uninviting so inside is the perfect place to spend the day. I feel good today about me and the day.

“Time is an herb that cures all Diseases.”

June 2, 2013

The morning is cloudy and cooler than it’s been. Thunder showers are predicted for this evening and tomorrow, but I won’t complain. I love thunder showers, and the flowers and the grass can use the rain.

Yesterday was to be my sloth day. It wasn’t. I ended up planting flowers and herbs in some of the deck pots, and I did two loads of laundry. My back is screaming from two days of hauling and bending. Today will really be a sloth day. I’m thinking about a nap. The cats and dog are already asleep.

The Cape Times has entered its summer mode. The paper uses just about a whole page to list events, shows, musicians, speakers and farmers’ markets. I check every morning for something interesting and then plan my day. Perhaps this will be another tourist summer, something I haven’t done for a while. I’ll go up Cape this year. My last tourist season I went down Cape. It’s always fun to answer the docents who want to know where we’re all from. Usually I’m the only one who says Cape Cod.

My front garden is so awash with color I wish I were a painter. The irises are in bloom, in purples and golds. A blue flower has also bloomed. I don’t know what it is but there are two, one on each front side of the garden. They stand tall in huge clumps. The wild rose bushes have buds, and the small lilac has bloomed in light purple. A white columbine sits daintily in the back of the garden. Lilies of the valley from my mother’s house have covered the ground on each side of the driveway, and the white, fragrant flowers have bloomed on the side which gets more sun. A few baby forsythia bushes, offspring of my oldest one which was a house-warming present, need to be dup up and passed along to friends for their yard. That will give me some space for a few new flowers, for more perennials. I’m going with red.

In addition to the flowers I planted yesterday I also planted basil and rosemary. I so love the smell of fresh rosemary that I run my hand up the whole plant then breath in the wonderful aroma. When I take scissors to the garden and cut fresh herbs for my recipes, I feel like a professional chef giving a tour of my garden in front of a camera which isn’t really there but then again neither is my audience.

I need a few more herbs for the garden, and I also have to plant the thyme I’ve already bought in its deck box. Oops, a pun jumped into my head here, a really corny pun, but I won’t submit you to it. I’ll leave that to Ben.

“Snow is not a wolf in sheep’s clothing – it is a tiger in lamb’s clothing.”

March 22, 2013

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, on the grass and on the deck, the snow is glistening. It started snowing around 10 last night, and we probably have about 5 inches of spring snow which sounds like an oxymoron to me. A dusting is spring snow. 5 inches is winter. The snow is heavy. I swept the walk to get my papers, and when I got to the street, I found slush under the snow. I left wet footprints. The branches of the pine trees are covered with a layer of the heavy snow and the bushes in the front are leaning from the weight. If I were a kid, I’d love this snow. It’s prime snowman snow: thick and heavy and sticky.

The Christmas cactus in here has a flower. I think of it as a gift as the plant was once my mother’s. It sat at the end of her kitchen table near the window. The table was in a niche in front of a bank of windows but one end of the table, flush with a window, had a cabinet beside it so we couldn’t sit on that side. The plants sat there instead. I remember when all of the cactus on the table were in bloom. The flowers were beautiful. Now I have one.

Today is just one of those days. I finished my monkey poop coffee, my back has soured my mood, and I am so tired of gray clouds. The sun was out for maybe a half hour yesterday, another taunt from Mother Nature. I can’t imagine what we did to anger her but it must have been a doozy.

I had two lady of the manor moments today. Skip, my factotum, came and plowed my driveway then shoveled in front of my car and mailbox. He brought in the bird seed and case of dog food I had left in the trunk because I couldn’t lift them. While Skip was here, Peapod delivered my groceries; he even put them on the kitchen counter. Now I’m wondering where my upstairs and downstairs maids are.

I am supposed to get an x-ray, but it won’t be today. I’m going to be a sloth again, and I’m using my back as an excuse, not that I really need one.

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