This was a rare morning (I use that last word loosely) because I didn’t take my first cup of coffee on the patio. The patio was being dusted. Briefly I thought I was “in the land of cotton” as in that grand song Dixie but it was only snow. Normally bad weather doesn’t deter me as I then sit in the small, covered portion but I found the sudden and severe arrival of winter ahead of schedule offensive. The snow showed me by becoming heavier so I had no choice but to adapt and enjoy. In spite of the wind that drove it, there was a quiet beauty. I raised my window blinds and absorbed the view from inside in warmth. We don’t expect the temperatures to rise out of the mid 30 s today and tomorrow they won’t rise to 30. I don’t even think of what the lows will be.
I survived last week, spending seven days away from the comforts of home with no reliable TV and only an Apple computer. Rustic, particularly when playing timed Web Sudoku where the delete key is backward from my PC‘s.
Discovered a new favorite film, Hobson’s Choice, last night. It was a bit reverse sexist but Charles Laughton outdid even Charlie Chaplin as a ridiculous buffoon (I’m not a Chaplin fan). I’m not sure yet if he outdid M. Hulot/Jacques Tati but will need to watch that classic again.
Six hours later the snow has continued all day but has slowed ‘though more is forecast. That means a renewed devout interest in religion this Sunday for our young people as they take to prayer… for school closings.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
ON THE RUN
Autumn came. In the US it is her jumping off point since Florida has scant seasonal change. That, after all… like southern California, is that state’s main attraction. My scenic view is southeastern so even for Roswell Fall comes late for me. The trees have been brilliant but as MOST real people have a seasonal change, everyone knows the deep reds through the myriad of scarlet and oranges to chartreuses and brilliant yellows of nature’s Crayolas. A fantastic festival of ripening for our Thanksgiving.
My feast was traditional but with Native American wild rice that turned out well this year. As healthy as it is, I cheated and threw in a bit of celery (saltiest of vegetables) and a spoonful of bacon bits with the standard ‘shrooms and onions. The oyster gravy helped but oysters deserve their own blog particularly with “the troubles” of the Gulf’s seafood shut down. I was thankful for much and the USA for more.
Speaking of which, we recently sneezed (with the disaster of the real estate crash) and no one bothered to say, “God bless you” (the world hates us and I relish that Everyone knows how ungenerous and uncharitable we are!) Now THEY all seem to have come down with the flu. If they aren’t plagued by inflation it’s bankruptcy. Sorry Nobel for Literature committee but if we’re too isolated for relevance then why the waves of financial angst? Get over yourselves and do try to keep up. Washington (the prez, not the city or state) taught us to mistrust you and your performance since has only validated his advice.If my prior paragraph seems hostile, it is possibly because I’ve recently moved beyond US history to the history of Western Europe (inching eastward.) What a murky blur that is. Among other questions: is there anyone over there who knows who Louis XIV’s father REALLY was? Yes, I know: it shouldn’t matter… except the only requirement for the job was gender and genetics
My feast was traditional but with Native American wild rice that turned out well this year. As healthy as it is, I cheated and threw in a bit of celery (saltiest of vegetables) and a spoonful of bacon bits with the standard ‘shrooms and onions. The oyster gravy helped but oysters deserve their own blog particularly with “the troubles” of the Gulf’s seafood shut down. I was thankful for much and the USA for more.
Speaking of which, we recently sneezed (with the disaster of the real estate crash) and no one bothered to say, “God bless you” (the world hates us and I relish that Everyone knows how ungenerous and uncharitable we are!) Now THEY all seem to have come down with the flu. If they aren’t plagued by inflation it’s bankruptcy. Sorry Nobel for Literature committee but if we’re too isolated for relevance then why the waves of financial angst? Get over yourselves and do try to keep up. Washington (the prez, not the city or state) taught us to mistrust you and your performance since has only validated his advice.If my prior paragraph seems hostile, it is possibly because I’ve recently moved beyond US history to the history of Western Europe (inching eastward.) What a murky blur that is. Among other questions: is there anyone over there who knows who Louis XIV’s father REALLY was? Yes, I know: it shouldn’t matter… except the only requirement for the job was gender and genetics
Saturday, November 20, 2010
I QUIT MY DAY JOBS
Every writer’s dream: quit the day job. It’s really simple but unfortunately my only day jobs were housekeeping and writing. I still do both but now I do them at night. As a night owl, an insomniac, it made no sense to keep faking it. I spent my pre-retirement years meeting the clock punctually (even got a raise once for being the only one who consistently did) and fighting my nighttime energy. Somehow, the Protestant work ethic made me feel guilty that I couldn’t sleep at night. If I put in an honest day’s work, why was I sleepless? The stigma is that sleeplessness is caused by a guilty conscience. Night people in a world attuned to day productivity have it bad enough without feeling guilty about it. And that was before they put me on thyroid pills.
Now research has lifted me from that snake pit. In case you didn’t catch the article, it went something like: Morning people make better grades etc. but night people are more advanced in the evolution of our species. I don’t care if they found we were less advanced, I’ll take it. At least I no longer wonder what my obviously guilty conscience is hiding from me.
No global warming worries, nights are cooler, nor about more sun damage to already desiccated skin. I don’t choose between thousands of lousy daytime TV shows, only a few lousy night ones since I don’t care for gratuitous violence. Energy companies give big discounts if you avoid their busiest grid hours. Stores and streets are less crowded at night. Noisy leaf blowers, telemarketers, lines of consumers, traffic jams, lawn mowers, garbage collectors, neighbors, door-to-door salesman and vandals are all asleep (guiltless with their past report cards of good grades). Hmm… it’s beginning to sound like this “research” is a plot.
My lifestyle change began immediately upon release of the new research Wednesday. I slept until 2PM and went grocery shopping at 8 PM. I worked until 3 AM and then to bed but sans sleep until 6 AM. Had my morning 2 cups of coffee on my patio and listened to the birds and commuters’ singing tires on the nearby expressways (a new experience). Read the morning papers (on the net), did daily crossword and websudoku and read my Emails then gladly went back to bed and sleep. Slept soundly before waking naturally. Had a 7:30 PM dinner engagement and by TV time was POOPED! Still I did my usual late night until 2+ AM-ish. Woke up noon-ish. Obviously must work out a few kinks but when I do sleep it is because I am sleepy.
Now research has lifted me from that snake pit. In case you didn’t catch the article, it went something like: Morning people make better grades etc. but night people are more advanced in the evolution of our species. I don’t care if they found we were less advanced, I’ll take it. At least I no longer wonder what my obviously guilty conscience is hiding from me.
No global warming worries, nights are cooler, nor about more sun damage to already desiccated skin. I don’t choose between thousands of lousy daytime TV shows, only a few lousy night ones since I don’t care for gratuitous violence. Energy companies give big discounts if you avoid their busiest grid hours. Stores and streets are less crowded at night. Noisy leaf blowers, telemarketers, lines of consumers, traffic jams, lawn mowers, garbage collectors, neighbors, door-to-door salesman and vandals are all asleep (guiltless with their past report cards of good grades). Hmm… it’s beginning to sound like this “research” is a plot.
My lifestyle change began immediately upon release of the new research Wednesday. I slept until 2PM and went grocery shopping at 8 PM. I worked until 3 AM and then to bed but sans sleep until 6 AM. Had my morning 2 cups of coffee on my patio and listened to the birds and commuters’ singing tires on the nearby expressways (a new experience). Read the morning papers (on the net), did daily crossword and websudoku and read my Emails then gladly went back to bed and sleep. Slept soundly before waking naturally. Had a 7:30 PM dinner engagement and by TV time was POOPED! Still I did my usual late night until 2+ AM-ish. Woke up noon-ish. Obviously must work out a few kinks but when I do sleep it is because I am sleepy.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
HEALTH WEALTH WHYS
Certainly hope I’m not senile because must make two life-changing decisions with time constraints: What to do with meager income/ life savings and what to do about health insurance. Time easily matters as deposits must be made to cover expenses as you switch from one institution to another made murky by direct deposits versus automatic bill pay.
What a nightmare changing financial institutions is!! Between routing numbers, account numbers and balancing the usual monthly checkbook over possibly three months of transition I see so many numbers I can barely stand to play Websudoku. The three-month transition is because direct deposits can’t be facilitated for two months at least and the third month is in case they mess it up with or without my help.
I’ve kept with banks because of patriotism. And, oh yeah, flavored by a bit of paranoid superstition. You see, I sold my most lucrative investment, a mortgage I was holding, and about 15 minutes later the real estate market went belly up. With the resultant problems of banks, I figured if I pulled my $1.98 out things could only get worse. Such awesome power! I resolved to ride it out BUT another bank bought my already thrice bought-out bank, and the new guys want an agreement that they could unilaterally decide not to send me monthly hard copy statements. As a child of the REAL depression, that seemed unwise so I’m putting myself and my $1.98 through this ongoing torment. We’ll see if I manage it with no bounced checks.
Before you think that’s all I have on my plate, the confusion of the new Health care says Seniors have a shorter than usual time to select the annual changes we wish in our “supplemental” health insurance. I use quotes because the cost of it is four times the cost I paid for full insurance before retirement with employer provided subsidy… and at my age, the country thinks the government pays for my health care via Medicare. What a joke! Don’t get me wrong. I support the new health care law. Which gives you a clue as to how messed up US health care delivery was. The real stickler is that once I make my selection of “supplemental” insurance there is no guarantee my doctor will accept it and I’ve already been forced to change doctors once because he, make that HE, decided not to deal with people “covered” by Medicare and instead went to a “Park Avenue/Nieman-Marcus” style.Can’t wait ‘til the polls open Tuesday.
What a nightmare changing financial institutions is!! Between routing numbers, account numbers and balancing the usual monthly checkbook over possibly three months of transition I see so many numbers I can barely stand to play Websudoku. The three-month transition is because direct deposits can’t be facilitated for two months at least and the third month is in case they mess it up with or without my help.
I’ve kept with banks because of patriotism. And, oh yeah, flavored by a bit of paranoid superstition. You see, I sold my most lucrative investment, a mortgage I was holding, and about 15 minutes later the real estate market went belly up. With the resultant problems of banks, I figured if I pulled my $1.98 out things could only get worse. Such awesome power! I resolved to ride it out BUT another bank bought my already thrice bought-out bank, and the new guys want an agreement that they could unilaterally decide not to send me monthly hard copy statements. As a child of the REAL depression, that seemed unwise so I’m putting myself and my $1.98 through this ongoing torment. We’ll see if I manage it with no bounced checks.
Before you think that’s all I have on my plate, the confusion of the new Health care says Seniors have a shorter than usual time to select the annual changes we wish in our “supplemental” health insurance. I use quotes because the cost of it is four times the cost I paid for full insurance before retirement with employer provided subsidy… and at my age, the country thinks the government pays for my health care via Medicare. What a joke! Don’t get me wrong. I support the new health care law. Which gives you a clue as to how messed up US health care delivery was. The real stickler is that once I make my selection of “supplemental” insurance there is no guarantee my doctor will accept it and I’ve already been forced to change doctors once because he, make that HE, decided not to deal with people “covered” by Medicare and instead went to a “Park Avenue/Nieman-Marcus” style.Can’t wait ‘til the polls open Tuesday.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
EVANGELINE
Family dinners should be a time for emotional, intellectual and cultural stimulation as well as nutrition. I’ve pretty well abandoned TV because family dinners depicted there are usually generational, sibling and Freudian rivalries. The only common thread to real and fictional family dinners is humor. I miss dinners, not merely family ones, of Savannah where, once past sex, politics and religion, wit and humor are essentials. There, one is at a real disadvantage if not well read and educated… unless they bring wholesale humor with them. Some of my best, recent, Savannah memories are amusing table talk with the late writer/editor Arthur Gordon and friend John discussing hoisted upon one’s own petard or which monuments in Savannah’s squares should be replaced and with whom. You’d better know your American History before wading into the latter.
This week’s multiple family dinners covered Namibia and Cajuns, two totally unconnected topics. I knew nothing about Namibia but quickly learned since I was told my oldest son was there and offering a bribe/trip over to his nephew, my teenage grandson. Hmmm…
My father was responsible for my basic knowledge of Cajuns (of Acadia) which has been expanded by frequent visits to family in Louisiana and other trips just because until the 60s it had the only big city in the South. I don’t know who brought up the subject and we were three Southerners and two Nons but I believe it was one of the Nons. After my oldest grandson gave a humorous, verbal Cajun imitation, I shared the first fact my father had given me: that they were kicked out of their original homes in Canada and New England which immediately shocked the Nons. My son, well versed in history, took up the explanation as I mused that such very well educated people could not have known it (and so the previously mentioned rivalry evidently persists).
Since, I’ve spent pleasant hours this week with Mr. H.W. Longfellow, generally considered our nation’s best poet, and his Acadian masterpiece, Evangeline. What DO they teach in schools these days?
This week’s multiple family dinners covered Namibia and Cajuns, two totally unconnected topics. I knew nothing about Namibia but quickly learned since I was told my oldest son was there and offering a bribe/trip over to his nephew, my teenage grandson. Hmmm…
My father was responsible for my basic knowledge of Cajuns (of Acadia) which has been expanded by frequent visits to family in Louisiana and other trips just because until the 60s it had the only big city in the South. I don’t know who brought up the subject and we were three Southerners and two Nons but I believe it was one of the Nons. After my oldest grandson gave a humorous, verbal Cajun imitation, I shared the first fact my father had given me: that they were kicked out of their original homes in Canada and New England which immediately shocked the Nons. My son, well versed in history, took up the explanation as I mused that such very well educated people could not have known it (and so the previously mentioned rivalry evidently persists).
Since, I’ve spent pleasant hours this week with Mr. H.W. Longfellow, generally considered our nation’s best poet, and his Acadian masterpiece, Evangeline. What DO they teach in schools these days?
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Ramblin' Unwreck
As always I am scouring the internet booksellers for long-out-of-print books with little or no luck. When I do find one I covet, it is usually priced in triple digits in some weird currency (meaning anything other than $US). And the current value of our dollar vs the Euro or GBP discourages plunging head long into international shopping. So if any know where I can get a copy of the story of my life by G. Allan Heron or Thomas Gerald Lamford without mortgaging my grand childrens’ future, do let me know. I have my favorite person, Trevor, working on it on the other side of the pond.
Meanwhile the weather, though not the road traffic, in Roswell is Idyllic. It’s our dry season so I’m having to hand water the last of my summer Impatience, lime “tree” and one-bloom-snapdragons but my bonsai can flourish on its own. The only negative is that ragweed and its equally toxic cousins are still spilling pollen everywhere so I’m a bit nasal. Have cut off the AC and not needed heat yet so my energy consumption is almost zilch. The deciduous trees are stingy with their Autumn pigments so we’re still quite green.
Had to take my son to NE Atlanta in rush hour traffic Thursday... a bit like joining the July 4th Indianapolis 500 mid race. Made it almost home (300 feet from the Chattahoochee River bridge) without losing my dignity, if indeed I have such a thing. Fortunately was well off I-85, I-285 and GA-400 so traffic was consistently about 50 MPH bumper to bumper. A young man in an over-sized truck cut me off from the shoulder to my right (there wasn't even an emergency lane there) and glanced in his rear view to see if I was going to ram him. That one glance was enough for me to distinctly but quietly enunciate my feelings which caused even that young buck to blush. I din't hit him, of course. He was far too lovely and I'm not so old as to not appreciate that. Unfortunately my words reflected more on his family, particularly the maternal side. Unfortunately the English Language seems to offer few curses that do otherwise. On the other hand my late, angelic looking Mother told me the reason English was spoken worldwide was because it was the only language that allowed a cursing person to peel the paint off a barn at 50 feet.
Meanwhile the weather, though not the road traffic, in Roswell is Idyllic. It’s our dry season so I’m having to hand water the last of my summer Impatience, lime “tree” and one-bloom-snapdragons but my bonsai can flourish on its own. The only negative is that ragweed and its equally toxic cousins are still spilling pollen everywhere so I’m a bit nasal. Have cut off the AC and not needed heat yet so my energy consumption is almost zilch. The deciduous trees are stingy with their Autumn pigments so we’re still quite green.
Had to take my son to NE Atlanta in rush hour traffic Thursday... a bit like joining the July 4th Indianapolis 500 mid race. Made it almost home (300 feet from the Chattahoochee River bridge) without losing my dignity, if indeed I have such a thing. Fortunately was well off I-85, I-285 and GA-400 so traffic was consistently about 50 MPH bumper to bumper. A young man in an over-sized truck cut me off from the shoulder to my right (there wasn't even an emergency lane there) and glanced in his rear view to see if I was going to ram him. That one glance was enough for me to distinctly but quietly enunciate my feelings which caused even that young buck to blush. I din't hit him, of course. He was far too lovely and I'm not so old as to not appreciate that. Unfortunately my words reflected more on his family, particularly the maternal side. Unfortunately the English Language seems to offer few curses that do otherwise. On the other hand my late, angelic looking Mother told me the reason English was spoken worldwide was because it was the only language that allowed a cursing person to peel the paint off a barn at 50 feet.
Monday, October 11, 2010
OOPS!
I was celebrating Christmas in October yesterday and so missed my usual posting. (Can’t wait to see if anyone noticed.)
My daughter in law gave me a day at the theater and dinner but her life got immediately out of hand. (Should have told her marriage does that to one but figured it was too much the mother-in-law thing to do.) So at last we got around to observing it yesterday. The delay wasn’t her fault, my son’s schedule and mine played a part also.
The play, Meet my Husbands by Fred Carmichael, was a delightful two-act play at Roswell’s Kudzu Theater. Unknown to me, my son had to forgo taking his youngest son to the Braves baseball game to accommodate taking us to the stage performance. He sent him and a friend there instead. If I’d known, I’d have postponed it again but I’m not sure I have that authority.Dinner on the patio of a Greek restaurant followed and the wonderful early Autumn weather was perfect for it. Hadn’t had Musaka (you know: ground beef, eggplant and potatoes with a sauce) in years and it was just as delicious as I remembered it. A lovely Christmas present just in time for Halloween.
My daughter in law gave me a day at the theater and dinner but her life got immediately out of hand. (Should have told her marriage does that to one but figured it was too much the mother-in-law thing to do.) So at last we got around to observing it yesterday. The delay wasn’t her fault, my son’s schedule and mine played a part also.
The play, Meet my Husbands by Fred Carmichael, was a delightful two-act play at Roswell’s Kudzu Theater. Unknown to me, my son had to forgo taking his youngest son to the Braves baseball game to accommodate taking us to the stage performance. He sent him and a friend there instead. If I’d known, I’d have postponed it again but I’m not sure I have that authority.Dinner on the patio of a Greek restaurant followed and the wonderful early Autumn weather was perfect for it. Hadn’t had Musaka (you know: ground beef, eggplant and potatoes with a sauce) in years and it was just as delicious as I remembered it. A lovely Christmas present just in time for Halloween.
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