HallowThanksMas

 

So here we all go, careening down the slippery slide into the holidays which pick up speed until we crash exhausted into New Year’s Eve.

Probably explaining why that day is most famous for over-imbibing.

And I think I’ve gained a better understanding of a neighbor down the street at our first house. On Christmas, the green wreath would go up on their front door, where it would sit until St. Patrick’s Day when a big green shamrock would be added. In April, a pink cardboard egg or a white bunny would be the next layer for Easter, and then I’m pretty sure come July an American flag would top that.

All those holidays begin to smoosh together after a while.

But when I re-positioned the pumpkin on the front porch after I had to toss the mums that had kept it company, it occurred to me that Halloween and Thanksgiving are more efficient holidays. They’re both mostly orange after all.

Pack away a bat or those witches and your decorating can sail along right into the next holiday.

The nose knows

 

A walk in the fresh air and a brief encounter set me thinking about smells.

Weekday Things

 

Artsy pic of my faded clematis

          Yesterday was fairly mundane – my Boomer Bootcamp at the Y, then errands in the afternoon.

Calories and Compost

          The problem with being one of those do-it-yourself types is that I tend to do just that. So yesterday while out running errands, I thought - wouldn’t it be nice to pick up something sweet for tomorrow’s breakfast. Except as I was about to turn right to the bakery in town, I thought – I have all afternoon. Why don’t I just make something? and turned left.

Crossing Guard

     I’m thinking someone needs to send out a memo to a few of my neighbors that they might want to keep a lower profile for the next couple of weeks.

Pixies of a different sort

 

Looking Away

 

Pillar of salt or block of stone? Medusa or Lot’s wife?

Panaceas for this morning

 

Anticipation

 I was up and out on a mission this morning. Vote, then meet friends at the pickleball court to:

Seclusion and Serenity

 I should have lost at least five pounds just by moving to this condo seven years ago because that’s how long it’s been since I’ve bought Halloween candy.

Corpses, beans, and babies

         This morning’s yoga class was soothing, aside from those moments when my joints reminded me exactly how many decades they’d been in operation. Our savasana period at the end (also called, grimly, the corpse pose) seemed longer than usual. This is the point where we all lie back on our mats like, well, corpses, and relax. After all that stretching and bending, it’s super calming and I sometimes leave in kind of a trance afterwards.

My Inner Witch

 

What perfect timing, as we spiral into the witching season. Today I may have experienced what those women long ago felt when they were just tired of unsolicited guidance or being told what to do. At this late point in life, I mostly do what I damn well want to do, and the way I want to do it. 

Bar None

 

On Friday I met a friend for lunch at an oddity in our area full of standard restaurants. We were at a Russian-owned crepe house, with not only create-your-own crepes but also a menu with pages and pages (6? 8?) of teas.

Fishing Expedition

 

In these perilous times I rely on the blogosphere more and more to escape when I feel I can’t handle all the darkness and impending doom one more minute - and yes, I admit it, to find validation once in a while of my side of things.

Stem to Stern

       I suspect most women are like me and would prefer a yoga class of just their own gender. Don’t get me wrong – I think it’s wonderful for men, who are generally less limber than women, to be interested in keeping their joints operational. And it’s refreshing to see guys recognize the value of something physical other than the usual traditional fitness regimes that can be hard on aging parts.

          But today as I veered sideways during sun salutation I was disconcerted to see a very hunky guy immediately to my left, one mat behind. No matter how enlightened the fella, if I’m going to be raising my keister to the sky during downward dog, I’d prefer to have a lady's gaze on the stern of my own imperfect personal boat.

          After that came the grocery store, which was blissfully quiet, except for the employees busily stocking the shelves. The store’s flyer for the next week’s deals takes effect on Thursdays, so maybe everyone else is waiting till the new prices go into effect before shopping. Still, I found a good deal on Progresso soup, although that was cancelled out, I suppose, by the $8 jar of mayonnaise I bought.

         

No worries about invading the young man's privacy since his hair screens his identity.

And I was disconcerted for the second time today by this sight at the counter where a worker was assembling a grinder for someone. I’m the last to get in a lather about someone else’s hairstyle – it’s only hair, folks – but I did wonder about the point of the baseball cap and the flexibility of local health codes.

Fun and Beauty

 

Little news from here other than what was probably my first and last venture onto the new town pickleball courts this morning, since today it will get up to 80 degrees and then go plunging downward until probably spring.

Back to the mat

 

I’m such a Virgo that a schedule can soothe my soul, although paradoxically I sometimes find myself grinding my teeth over the sameness of my retirement days. There's just no pleasing some people.

What a difference a week makes

 This time last week we were gearing up for the first overnight visit here by the twins without parents. Okay, it didn’t really take me a week to recover enough to write a post, but things are definitely different around here than they were last weekend.

Overwhelmed

 

I grew up surrounded by books.

Trash Rebels

     Ever since we moved to the commune condo complex seven years ago, My Guy has had his own war with our past trash company. 

Update - Phew!

Not our complex, but closer to town

Getting information when there are 213,000 power outages in Sarasota County alone is difficult, but our little town in Florida appears to have dodged a cannonball.

Rising Tide

 

          We’re getting a little jumpy here in Massachusetts about our little town in Venice, FL.   

TWTWTW

 

(Remember that show -  That Was the Week That Was?)

Sorry – I’ve been lazy about posting so here’s a quick review of the week that I’ll just dump  in your lap.

Taking Umbrage - and packing it away again

 

          I sat down this afternoon all fired up to sent a huffy note to the property manager of our condo complex. I have nothing against him, and in fact am very glad he’s ours, but My Guy and I had received a letter yesterday regarding “Home Owner Plant Bed Maintenance.”

Tote that bale

 After a madcap week of eye doctor (cataracts still practically teenagers), covid shot (no reaction other than a sore arm), haircut, with a little Mahjong at the senior center thrown in, I finished up on Saturday with the fabric drive for the town library.

The drill was to hang out in front of the library and receive bags of clothing and other goods from donors who pulled up to unload. We’d then transfer the offerings into big black garbage bags since they were required by the organization we were basically selling our donations to. As I understand it, the donations would go on a scale and we’d be paid based on the weight. The organization would later sort everything according to whether it could go out on the sales floor or sent to wherever fabric is recycled.

          The return is pretty good for the library and there’s no overhead on our part since we’re all volunteers.

          I’d signed up to serve as one of the drivers, needed because while we gathered everything at the library, it had to be moved to a member’s garage until everything could be trucked to the company receiving it. And good thing I did. I’m pretty sure no one there yesterday was under 70 (including me) and added to that one person had a congenital wrist problem. Maybe next year we can round up some teenagers.

          It’s remarkable how heavy clothes can be, and when you fill a garbage bag full to
over-flowing you have a challenge. We’d stuff at least two+ kitchen bags into one black bag, tie it off, heave it into the back of a car, drive it to the collection point, and heave it out of the car onto the pile. My car alone held about 14 bags and I made 6 trips.

          But I must be doing something right because here I am the next day and my back and shoulders are still in one piece, thank heaven.

Truly Random Offerings

 

Our local turkeys on their way to an important meeting.

Gluttony, Death and Drugs

 The squirrels outside our house are losing their minds over all the hickory nuts scattered on the grass. 

Breakfast and Broccoli

          My good friend Judi and I settled into a booth this morning at the back of one of our favorite breakfast spots for a long-overdue visit with each other. The waitress was really hustling and it took a few minutes before she got to us with, “Coffee?”

Back in the Flatlands

          I’m back home now and happy to be here. It was wonderful spending time with family over the weekend, but the added bonus was an increased appreciation of my own home.

Heroic Art

          I’m here in the mountains of New Jersey at my daughter’s for a brief visit. Yesterday we descended to Hamilton, not far from Trenton, where My Guy and I met in college, and also not far from Princeton, where I was born. So I suppose my ties to the state are pretty firm at this point.

Marbles and Murder

 

My Guy and I are currently (sadly) nearing the end of PBS’s Inspector Alleyn mysteries on Amazon Prime.

Small news - hummingbirds and ants

 A quiet couple of days have gone by, so not much to tell about, but I figure they’re better than the nothing that would have been here otherwise.

Straddling the Seasons

 We have rain in the forecast, so I was up and out in the backyard fairly early for a Sunday.

There aren’t many signs yet of the impending autumn – 

the petunias in my hanging pot in front are pushing out a last gasp of blooms,

My New Best Friends

 

I’m being stalked.

Vermont Idyll

 

We’re home after three blissful days up the road.

          We loved this place years ago, and if anything, love it even more now. It’s remarkable that you can travel a bit over two hours and feel like you’ve been to another land. 

           In this case, a land of fancy cars, outlets (an eclectic mix of Armani and Eddie Bauer), quaint inns, and a fly-fishing school.

  

     I can only imagine how busy it must be when there’s snow, with Mt. Stratton and one end and Bromley at the other.

                                                                          We ate, we shopped, ate some more, 

saw the world premiere of True Art in Dorset’s small theater,

 stopped by the oldest marble quarry in the U.S.,

(which I guess explains why many of the sidewalks in town are marble)

 followed by

G & T’s on the lawn (Vermont Gin? Who knew?). 

Perfect.  

Vermont perfection and a small rant

(Unfortunately I’m unable to figure out how to post any on my iPad of the pictures I can’t seem to stop taking

    We’re here in Manchester, VT for two days.

Rainbows and Cemetery Plots

 

Apologies for being so long away. There’s absolutely no reason for it. I haven’t even been doing anything especially interesting. Or I guess that's the reason.

          Anyway, keeping with the dullness theme, my morning so far has consisted of reading (a book by the fabulous Elly Griffiths than I can’t put down) , walking, and picking up Saturday’s mail. Woo hoo.

          I skipped my usual Monday Boomers’ exercise class – which I actually enjoy quite a bit – for, again, no particular reason, and instead did a walk through the complex where I was treated to a rainbow.

       

   I find it too mind-numbing to do the same walk two times around and so took a short cut, only traveling about a mile and a half. Still, a respectable distance – certainly not deserving of the mail I picked up:

A flyer inviting My Guy and me to a scintillating evening touring an assisted living facility and secondly (covering all possibilities) a pre-planning offer from the funeral home in town.  

Next World

 

I remember when my grandfather in Oklahoma would call long distance to us in Virginia. This involved a fair amount of yelling into the receiver so that our words would reach Tulsa, and the need to keep the call short because of the extravagance.

Baby Buds and Ego Boost

 My Guy and I did our breakfast thing. Yes, it was a bit of a greasy spoon filled with locals, but I enjoyed an excellent omelet filled – and I mean filled – with every vegetable imaginable. Ever had eggs and summer squash?

Communication after 54 years

There is a place in the next town called Girlee’s.

Future Gardens

 

As we teeter back and forth these days from the Slough of Despond to tenuous hope, it might be heartening to contemplate the gardens I see on my walk.

Ye Olde False Front

 

Today I had lunch with a friend at an inn so historic that its trees in front were planted in 1791 by Ebenezer Crafts. A lovely story, but I do have to wonder a bit since they’re supposedly elms, and in the 1970s 77million elms died thanks to the Dutch elm disease that swept through New England.

Gardening for the future

 

In keeping with this whole national hyperattention to aging, My Guy and I met with an elder lawyer on Friday. First of all, I feel in no way qualified to count myself in the ranks of elders, but there we are.

Ageism

  

    A few years ago, when sweet Mamie was still with us, mention of my perfect little dog would somehow end up in my conversation. 

Monday at the Mall

 For the first time in what has to be at least two years, I paid a visit to the big shopping mall in the next town.

Home on the Farm

 

A quiet day here, catching up on laundry and completing riveting tasks like putting baking soda and vinegar down the drain to clean it up a bit.

No fireworks - just family and food

 It was a great Fourth -  just my speed.

Hail the conquering homeowner

 Yesterday didn’t start all that auspiciously, with a fall at pickleball that at least only resulted in a bruised ego and a sore hip (those pesky extra 10 pounds padding me are proving their worth).

          But I racked up one success after another as the day wore on.

          After 5 landscape companies ignoring my calls more consistently than I do spammers, one guy did get back to me, bless his heart. He began his yard and home maintenance company only a few years ago and so is still small enough that his only employees are teenage sons.  

 

         I’ve been trying to get rid of these big holly bushes in order to replace them with something lower maintenance.

        

 

When I arrived home after pickleball, there he was, and there my bushes weren’t. Yay!

 I think I’ll put in some more roses and perhaps a big grass in the back of them.

  

        The other home issue has been the microwave, which had decided to light up its filter replacement message. We just acquired it last fall, so I wasn’t sure of the process.

      

    First, the useless “manual” I received with it. Three pages telling me not to do stupid things like cook with aluminum foil and a useless diagram for some other model.

 

         Second, Google it. But the only instructions online were for previous models.

     

     I opened up the microwave. It was obvious where the filter should go: in back of that long black plastic cover. Up on a stool, I could see instructions on the top that said to slide to the left. Except it wouldn’t go. I didn’t want to snap it.

    

      Off I motored to the store where I’d bought it. Amazingly, the salesman climbed on a chair, located the critical screw, removed it, and demonstrated how to slide the panel. It could have been my personal charm that made him so helpful, but it was more likely the fact that I shamelessly repeated several times that last year we’d bought from them not only the microwave, but a fridge, oven, and dishwasher.

          Today I got out my trusty pink stepstool and screwdriver and slid that sucker right off, popping in the new filter. Ta Da!

  

        Except now the fridge has a message for me.

         

Medical Breakthrough??

 

I know how lucky I am.

    

Wildlife

 

Today we stayed home and putzed around the house, perhaps waiting for the next weather excitement.

 (THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE HAS ISSUED A TORNADO WATCH IN EFFECT UNTILL 8 PM EDT THIS EVENING. . . ) 

Gotta say many of us in town might be a tad edgy since we had a humdinger of a tornado tear through here in 2011.

            But it’s not been dull in our backyard.

           

First off, one of the local rabbits has claimed a quiet corner in my garden to stretch
out.

 

         Then, right on schedule, the three amigos – occasionally four – have done their morning march across the backyard, returning and marching back the other way as they always do later in the afternoon.

          

And our hummingbirds are glorying in not only their feeder, but the the new-found wealth of the
now-blooming bee balm.

          It occurred to me today that as species go, the birds that visit me couldn’t be more extreme examples, going from one of the largest to the smallest.

A hummingbird, is usually only about 2- 4 inches long, weighing less than a handful of pennies, while male wild turkeys can reach 25 pounds.

This reminded me of one of my favorite scenes of all time from a favorite television show, West Wing, which was chock-full of wonderful moments.

 It was one of the many hallway scenes, this one with Allison Janney and Kristin Chenowith.