Posted tagged ‘sun and blue sky’

“CONTROL MYSELF?!! I’m a MONSTER! Monsters don’t control themselves! That’s the whole IDEA!”

November 14, 2015

The morning was gloomy with a whitish grey sky and a strong breeze. The sun has just appeared and the sky is clearing as I can see some blue. Pine needles continue to fall on the side of my front lawn under that big pine tree. My backyard is filled with pine and oak trees, but that’s Gracie’s area and only branches are cleared from it. I always know where she is even in the dark as I can hear the crunching sound as she walks on the bed of leaves and pine needles. It is chilly today.

I miss Creature Feature. When I was a kid, two old black and white science fiction movies were on every Saturday. I watched almost every week and got to know the creatures well. Strangely enough I never thought about how many of those creatures had no names. They were just pronouns like Them and It or indeterminate nouns like Thing, the beast or the monster. Some had addresses like The Creature from the Black Lagoon, The Man from Planet X or The Devil Girl from Mars. We had the ants, spiders, giant tarantulas, robots, Mole Men, a deadly mantis and one of my favorites, The Monolith Monsters. The Fly I’ll put in another category as it was half human. Who can forget, “Help me! Help me?” Women were either creatures, dainty scientists, reporters or just fluff.

In the Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, my favorite science fiction woman had a name, Nancy. She became 50 feet tall thanks to an alien. She was driving in the desert and had been drinking, a favorite pastime, when she runs into a giant alien hand. She manages to escape his grasp but no one believes her, the drunk. Later she and her husband go to the desert to find this alien, and they do. Harry, her husband, runs away ( finally a man who runs away) and she is left there. Later they find her on the roof of her pool house. She is delirious so the doctor gives her a sedative. The husband, who plans to kill her, later goes to her room and sees she has become a giant. He and the doctor decide to keep her sedated and in chains, but she wakes up and gets free (she has or the movie ends there). Meanwhile her lowlife philandering husband is at a bar with his latest girlfriend, honey. His giant wife wearing a bikini made from sheets goes looking for him. She finds him with Honey who didn’t know you never make a 50 foot woman mad. Nancy, now known as the giant, drops a beam from the roof on Honey who is killed. Harry starts shooting but his wife, the giant, just picks him up in her hand and walks away. Later our favorite giant is killed by the sheriff who blows up a power line transformer which kills poor Nancy. They find her dead husband in her hand. That’s what he gets!

“Sounds are three-dimensional, just like images. They come at you from every direction.”

June 23, 2015

Mother Nature is being deceptive. The morning is lovely with sun glinting through the leafy boughs of the trees I can see right outside my window. Patches of blue sky spread across the sky. The breeze is just right. Mother Nature, though, is toying with us. This afternoon and evening we’ll have thunder storms. The night will be chilly and damp.

Even as a kid I was never afraid of thunder or lightning. The louder and more dramatic the storm, the more I liked it. I remember how the house shook when thunder boomed right overhead. The jagged bolts of lightning brightened the sky. I remember clapping for the best in show.

My childhood was filled with sounds, and I have a few favorites. Roller-skates created wonderfully different sounds depending on the surfaces where I roller skated. In the street my wheels rolling on the sand made a grating sound, a harsh sound, and small pebbles were cause for a less than smooth ride. Tar was the best surface on which to skate. The sound was gentle, almost a humming, and the ride was smooth. The sidewalk had small inclines leading to the gutter and the street. We used to roll down those inclines which gave us the momentum to keep going without any effort, but it was tar to street which took a bit of skill. The peepers at the swamp at night made the best sounds. I used to imagine aliens were landing because that was what the song of the peepers sounded like to me. It was a strange whistling, like the sound a ship might make moving swiftly through the air. Grasshoppers sang in the field below my house, and when we walked through the field, the sound got louder almost as if in alarm. The grasshoppers would jump in front of us sometimes three or four at a time. Theirs was a pretty song.

I remember the sounds of kids playing in the backyards all over the neighborhood. I remember the sound of my mother’s voice when she yelled out the back door. Sometimes it was a warning to stay away from the lines of drying laundry while other times it was an invitation to come inside for dinner. In my neighborhood fathers never yelled out the back door. That was always the job for mothers.

“Winter is a time of promise because there is so little to do — or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so.”

December 29, 2014

I no longer consider myself a loller. Yesterday I went out and did my errands and even brought my laundry downstairs, but I admit it got no further and still sits in the hall waiting for its final journey. I am in no hurry to move it. I just keep adding to it. Doing laundry demands a particular mood or a frantic need for specific clothes like underwear. Maybe tomorrow I keep telling myself.

It’s chilly today. We have sun and a blue sky, but it is pleasing only to the eye, best seen from the warm house through a window.

Getting ready then celebrating Christmas made for an exciting week. It was filled with anticipation and neither Christmas Eve nor Christmas Day disappointed. Now, however, there is a lull. I don’t even have a dance card. I take naps. I still light the Christmas tree every night, but its days are numbered. Soon the house will be boring, bereft of light and color, a perfect reflection of winter.

The ocean in winter looks dark and foreboding. The beach is sometimes so windy and bone chillingly cold you fear you’ll never get warm. The car heater on high makes your fingers tingle as they start to feel again. Your feet seem to take a bit longer, but taking off your shoes and putting your feet by the heater helps. Soon enough hands and feet are back to normal, and it is time to lower the blasting heat and move along.

I always hope no one comes to my door on a winter’s afternoon. I am never dressed for company. Even now I’m in my winter uniform. I’m wearing a sweatshirt, a Celtics sweatshirt, my around the house pants and a pair of new slippers. I haven’t even brushed my hair, but I don’t care. I am comfy and happy, and I’m thinking that’s all that counts.

“Hearing nuns’ confessions is like being stoned to death with popcorn.”

February 28, 2014

The feeders needed filling so I braved the cold and filled the biggest one hoping that would hold the birds for a couple of days. It didn’t take long for the word to go out about the feeder. The birds were back almost before I got inside the house. It was mighty cold outside, only 19˚, so I was quick with the seed. Tonight it will be around 7˚, a temperature fit for neither man nor beast.  Yesterday we had another snow squall. Today we have sun and a blue sky, but the sun is useless. It is light, not heat.

My furnace is cranking endlessly trying to keep the cold at bay. I’m wearing two pairs of socks. Nothing is worse than cold feet. I have an errand or two I can do, but I just don’t want to go out and face the elements. The house is too comfy, and I’m cozy and warm.

I remember walking to school during the coldest of mornings. By the time I’d get there, my face would be bright red. Though the walk wasn’t really all that long, it seemed to go for miles and miles and take hours and hours in the cold or rain. Finally, when I was inside the heated classroom, my face would begin to warm and my cheeks would tingle. I had a classmate who lived two doors down from the school, and I envied her this time of year. She’d hear the bell and run from her house to get in line.

If we went outside for recess, the wind would whip across the school yard. We’d freeze and pray to hear the bell calling us back inside. On the coldest days the nuns had us eat inside at our desks. On those inside days, I remember the nun would put some sort of a cardboard shield around her desk so we couldn’t see her eat. It didn’t seem strange at all. Nuns weren’t like real people.

“Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.”

February 27, 2014

Winter is still holding on with all its might. Yesterday we got an inch of snow, an almost furious storm which made driving difficult and even treacherous. When I got on the highway, I saw a pickup truck on its side off the road and, from the dents, it looked as if it had rolled. People were checking the cab and the police hadn’t yet arrived so I think the accident had just happened. I’m guessing speed was responsible. I went 35, an unheard of speed for me, the whole way home.

Poor Gracie has been restless all morning and even cheese didn’t entice her. She was just outside for a long while so I got worried and checked and found her eating grass, a sure sign of an upset stomach. I called her in and fed her some spider plant fronds which usually help. I’ll know she feels better when her stomach stops rumbling and the cheese in her bowl disappears.

The first thing I do when I wake up is look out the window, the one I can see from my bed. I have a view of the sky and the tops of the pine trees. Today I saw sun and blue sky, but I wasn’t fooled. It looked cold, and it is. We are in the grip of another cold spell and will be for the next couple of weeks. It gets to the 20’s during the day then down to the teens at night, and that’s without figuring in the wind chill. I will most decidedly continue to be a gas hog.

My house is quiet in the mornings. The only sound comes from my typing. All three animals are napping in three different places, all comfy, cozy places. Gracie is always where I am. She is the best of company, a good listener and always agreeable. More people should be like Gracie.

“In football everything is complicated by the presence of the opposite team.”

January 19, 2014

The sun is just arriving after being away a few days. I can even see blue sky. But if the weatherman is correct, neither will last long. The temperature is only 31˚ and snow flurries are predicted. I’m not sure if it’s a breeze or a wind. All the dead leaves and the smaller branches are blowing. Even with the sunlight, the day isn’t inviting.

This afternoon I’ll be watching the Pats and the Broncos. It will be 62˚ in Colorado at game time. That doesn’t seem right somehow. Football is a cold weather sport. There should be snow and breath you can see. You know I will be cheering for my Pats. I don’t mind the Broncos, but I don’t like Peyton Manning and never have. Something about him grates on me. My Colorado family didn’t like him either when he quarterbacked the Colts. Now he is their poster boy. Wishy washy!

Sometimes I get a bit nostalgic and watch black and white television programs on Cozi, a fairly recent channel to the line-up. The other day I watched The Lone Ranger and Robin Hood with Richard Greene. The opening 0f Robin Hood with the music and the arrow flying through the air with a whooshing sound is still a great opening. I even watched a little of The Real McCoys, but I could take only a little. Grandpappy Amos just didn’t make it for me.

Today is change the litter and do laundry day. I can’t think of two worse chores around the house.

I just made a new pot of coffee. While I was waiting, I took a gander out the kitchen window. It is finch day at the feeders. Both gold finches and house finches vie for space on three different feeders. All of the feeders are swaying. It is a wind, not a breeze.