Posted tagged ‘damp’

“Time is the longest distance between two places.”

April 6, 2017

Cloudy and damp today but it is warm at 43˚. Alexa tells me the high will be 49˚, and it will rain yet again. The ground is muddy. When I step on the grass, my shoe gets soaked. The dog’s paw prints go from the back door down the hall to the rug where they disappear.

Yesterday Gracie and I got a lot done. We were out and about for about three hours. We made even it down cape to Orleans where I did a bit of shopping.

I have made an appointment for Gracie at the vets. Her legs are worse.

I am ending this early today as I have to go to Hyannis for an MRI. It seems my dog and I are falling aprt. Getting old does that!

“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.

“We are all living history, and it’s hard to say now what will be important in the future. One thing’s certain, though: if we throw it away, it’s gone.”

January 21, 2017

Today is damp and dark, uninviting. I want to do nothing. I doubt I’ll get dressed. Thus far this morning I have brushed my teeth, made coffee and read two newspapers. I am back to binging on Star Trek Voyager. I am also streaming the Women’s March. I didn’t watch the inauguration.

When I was in the eighth grade, John Kennedy was elected president. That campaign was the first time I ever had any interest in politics. A small Kennedy for President store front opened right next to Santoro’s Sub Shop. Posters were in the window. I remember going inside and getting buttons and pins. I wore them on my coat for the whole campaign. Afterwards, I put them on the bulletin board in my room. They stayed there. When I bought this house, my mother brought the board down to me. It had been in stasis since I’d left for Ghana. I was thrilled to find so many pieces of my childhood still pinned to that board. My favorite find, though, was a Kennedy for President pin with his picture on it and a larger pin which said If I were twenty-one I would vote for Kennedy. They are now on display in a frame with other buttons from other campaigns. My McGovern-Eagleton pin is there as is my Returned Peace Corps for McGovern-Shriver. Every button in that display is a historical record of my politics from 1960 to 1984 and Gary Hart.

I still have a bulletin board. It is cork, not the pink material board which hung for so long in my room. It is filled with both old and new ephemera. A chocolate Golden Tree wrapper from Ghana hangs there. There is a picture of my mother and all of us together in Colorado and one of me with my Ghanaian students from my first visit back. There is a home-made valentine I gave to my mother when I was young. She found it and brought it to me. There is a Mard-Gras mask hanging from a corner of the board. From the other top corner all the ID’s I’ve had for a variety of events are hanging. This bulletin board is also a historical record, more recent but no less interesting.

Today is a day for mac and cheese.

“Christmas is not a date. It is a state of mind.”

December 18, 2016

No countdown can start until the week before the event. It is a rule. That means the countdown to Christmas begins today. If I were little again, this would be momentous.

The day is damp again. It rained during the night. We are left with warmish temperatures, a bit of a wind and gray skies. I went out on the deck earlier to dump the rain puddles from the table cover. The deck got soaked so did my feet.

I’m staying home again today. I don’t mind at all. My house is cozy, and every room is bright with Christmas lights which shine so lovely on a cloudy, dark day.

We used to string popcorn for the tree. We’d sit at the table with bowls of popcorn in front of us and needles thread with thin string in our hands. They were dangerous weapons. Several times we’d prick our own fingers and break the popcorn. Yelps were common. My mother would join our strands to make one long strand of popcorn which was circled around the tree. Shauna, one of my Boxers, would eat the popcorn and drag a strand off the tree to the floor for better access. My father always chuckled. Later, when we were older, we’d string cranberries with the popcorn. They stayed on the tree.

My sister and I were talking last night about our trees. We all buy live trees every year. My family always did. My father and his sister, my Aunt Mary, had a running joke. My mother bought the tree and never told my father the actual price. He’d have been apoplectic. Instead, she’d give him an amount in the $30’s. When my aunt saw the tree, always big and magnificent, she’d ask how much it cost, and my father would tell her. She never believed him. He’d swear it. It was the truth as far as he knew.

“Laziness is the first step towards efficiency.”

November 29, 2016

or mThere isn’t any sun again. I’ve lost track of how many days. I get up and see clouds out the window; I go to get the papers and feel the cold and damp. The wind is slight so that’s a good thing. Only the edges of the brown leaves flutter and none fall to the ground.

Gracie has a vet appointment at 12:00, an old dog appointment which just means a second physical to make sure all is well. She also needs one shot and to have her nails clipped. It will be expensive. It always is.

Maddie howled me awake this morning. It was late so she probably had lost her patience and wanted her treats and some loving, in that order. Now she is standing beside me getting her neck scratched, and she is purring. If I dare stop, she nudges me with her head.

The laundry is back downstairs in front of the cellar door. Last time it sat here nearly a week. I finally got sick of seeing it. I could have thrown it downstairs, but that would have been far too lazy even for me.

I went through all the catalogues I had yesterday only to get more in the mail. They are never ending.

When I woke up this morning, my first thought was how to fix the dog door. The plastic fell again. I’m thinking a plastic strip over the holes would keep the screws attached. The big holes would disappear. I think I have just what I need in the cellar. That is now today’s other chore. Changing the bed is tops on the list.

Winter makes me lazy. The summer invites me outside and the spring demands attention. Fall catches my eyes with all its color, and I don’t want to miss it. Those colors never last long enough. In winter I’d much rather stay home. Being outside has little appeal. I don’t have to get dressed but can stay in my laze around the house clothes. Any chores can keep. I figure if I dust, I’ll only have to dust again so why bother. The house is neat, and that’s enough.

“All tradition is merely the past.”

November 18, 2016

Today is cloudy and damp. The wind is blowing more leaves off the trees. The backyard has a layer of crusty brown leaves. Gracie makes noise when she walks around. The deck is covered again. Dismal is the best description of the weather.

I have a few errands today. Gracie is out of canned food, and I need bread. I’m also thinking I need a whoopie pie to chase away the clouds. Chocolate makes every day sunny.

My table is filled with catalogues with dog-eared pages. I am on the hunt for the last of my Christmas gifts. Now I am into the traditional. I need more ornaments as I give everyone a new ornament each year. That started when my nephews and niece were born. When they got married, they collected all their ornaments from my sister for their very first trees. Now I also buy ornaments for their kids and their husband and wives. Everyone also gets a bar of soap, not just any soap but soap with a bit of whimsy. I have bought lobsters, crabs, starfish, nutcrackers and, for the guys, soap on a rope. The kids get new books. I also hunt for fun gifts. My brother-in-law, the fisherman, is getting an antique drop line. I love to find stuff like that. It does take a bit of hunting, but the fun is in the hunt. Besides, I sometimes find a bauble for myself. Last night I tried to order gingerbread house kits. I started sending houses to be constructed when my oldest nephew was three.

Last night I tried to order gingerbread house kits, also traditional. I started sending houses to be constructed when my oldest nephew was three. I sent them every year after that. Now I send one to my nephew’s two children and my niece’s two. My two friends and I construct small ones on Christmas Eve, a newer tradition. I had trouble with the website so I called them last night. The owner happened to be there though the place was closed. He promised to call me back, and he did. This morning he found out the website stopped on the ordering page so he took my order over the phone. He was glad I had called him as they didn’t know about the problem.

I do have a great story about the finished house. One year my sister’s kids built theirs, and she warned them to keep their hands off it. Later she caught one of her kids licking the candy on the roof. His defense was he didn’t use his hands. He was right!

“Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.”

November 15, 2016

Today I am accomplished. The first load of laundry is in the washer. I finally got tired of walking around the overflowing laundry bags in the hall.

The wind is blowing. When I look out the windows, I see brown leaves falling almost as frequently as snow falls. The weather feels chilly because it is damp. Rain is predicted for today, and the cloudy sky makes it probable. It is getting darker.

Maddie howled again last night. It is from loneliness. When Gracie and I slept downstairs, she slept the whole night. I feel so bad for her and wish she would join Gracie and me upstairs. She knows Gracie won’t chase her as she stands on the couch beside the sleeping dog when she wants to be patted. Gracie doesn’t even notice.

When I was a kid, I never got all that excited about Thanksgiving. There was no countdown like for Christmas. It sort of it just arrived. In school, we colored turkeys and wrote down why were thankful. I always said my mother and father. I was probably thankful for them, but I was even more thankful for knowing what to write down. The short school week was also a blessing but not one I mentioned.

Even though every week was the same when I was a kid, except for holidays, of course,  I never really tired of the day to day. I ate the same breakfast every morning unless it was so cold my mother felt the need to make oatmeal to insulate us for the walk to school. We walked the same route to school every day. It didn’t take us long, maybe 20 minutes or so. On cold days we walked a whole lot faster both to keep warm and to get to school sooner.

I remember walking backward against the wind on days like today. My clothes would sometimes billow, especially my skirt. Every now and then I did need peeks to make sure I was walking straight on the sidewalk and to know to face the front when I reached the curb to cross.

I need the lamp lit to keep the darkness away. It was the same when I was a kid. I was never afraid of the dark, but it wasn’t good for reading, my favorite pastime when I couldn’t go out to play after school. I remember lying in bed, comfy and cozy, with the lamp lit behind and above me and an open book in my hands. It felt perfect, almost like paradise.