Moving on to better days?

 Happy New Year to all -

May 2026 bring all those good things we're hoping for.

Ego? What ego?

          There’s a small shop here in our small town that - alongside fancy teas, apples from a nearby orchard, and artisanal breads – sells my books and those of my neighbor Dave, who's a local historian.

Watch out for the sugar plum fairy

 

I’d had my misgivings, but as it turns out I survived this morning’s yoga class just fine.

          After three days on my feet preparing, creating, and clearing up Christmas, my left knee went on strike. On Saturday the idea of bending it was laughable.

New traditions

     This will be one of the few years we won't be lighting a menorah before we sit down to Christmas dinner, what with Hanukkah coming early.   With both daughter and son having joined up with members of the Jewish faith, it's been a tradition for quite a few years, and it'll seem kind of odd to skip that. 

    You can see even our tree has everything covered. 

    Merry Christmas and Happy whatever your holiday may be! 

Theft, Crowns, Crow

 

          I’m sitting down. Absolute bliss after a day that began in the kitchen at 8:30 and didn’t end until 4:00, except for a small break, of which I’ll tell you more in a minute.

          Completed: Apple cake, Brussel sprouts prepped, vegetable tray, chocolate cake, chicken pot pie with much pot washing and counter clearing in between. (Never mind the dish-gathering and present-wrapping in there somewhere.)

 

   

       Monday morning, I hit the store early, hoping to miss the craziness. It wasn’t too bad – the aisles were passable, the stock hadn’t been fully decimated. I’m always amazed that my over-flowing cart is only focused on two dinners, major afternoon snacking, and two breakfasts.

          I did have a bit of a moment, though, when I turned back from contemplating fancy sorbets to find my cart full of hard-won items was gone. I looked up and down the aisle. Nothing. I started through the store at top speed, peering up more aisles, until I realized the frozen section is at the end of the store so most people go from there to the check-out. Sure enough, there he was in line, a skinny gray-haired guy in a plaid shirt and camo pants.

 

          After all my whining, my trip to the dentist while no fun, was a roaring success.

(And yes, my cold never arrived!)

 What had me really worried was the possibility of having the tooth pulled, with all the attendant stuff that would go with that – sitting around waiting for the site to heal, prep for an implant, putting in the implant, etc, etc.

          So I now have one more crown. I could have bought a new couch or a couple of new couches with the money spent on my mouth. 

            It seemed nothing short of miraculous, considering that he drilled out the entire side
of the tooth, as though he’d taken a melon-baller and scooped out an area you could fit a grape into. And to achieve that and then shove (and I mean shove) in the crown required so much yanking and pulling and stretching of my face, I was sure I’d be able to start a new film career as a female Joker.

 

          My break today from hour after hour on my feet was another trip to the grocery store.

          I’d sent My Guy to pick up the roast I’d ordered and then checked on Monday to verify it’d be ready. I gave him a slip of paper that said “cradled beef roast” on it.

          Sure enough, he came home proudly bearing the meat, and I took one look at it, and the label said “rib roast” with no mention of cradling.

          I did not want to wrestle with trying to carve around bones. What to do?

I found my shoes and motored off to the store, muttering “One job. He had ONE job.”

          Yes, you guessed it. The butcher looked at me pityingly and pointed out that the roast was tied with string to hold it to the ribs, and yes, it was cradled, thus the string.

          So I’ll be having a little crow on the side for Christmas dinner.

 

If it's not one thing . . . .

 

          It was about to come true: one of my greatest fears.

          A succession of sneezes and unusually tired eyes. Was I getting a cold?

          Never mind that Christmas is next week. My big concern was the dentist.

          Earlier in the month I’d gone in for a check-up and was told that I had a massive cavity that would need to be addressed.

“But I don’t feel a thing there,” I said.

“That’s because you’ve had a root canal there and the nerves are gone.”

My fear come true. Sitting in the dentist chair with a cold, unable to breathe.

So, I dug around and found my supply of zinc lozenges and knock-on-wood, they seem to be working. The cold is probably still lurking, waiting to spring, but if I can just make it through Monday’s appointment, I’ll be thrilled.

 Or as thrilled as you can be, going to the dentist and about to have an expensive crown removed, drilled on, and then have another expensive crown put back in its place. And that’s the best-case scenario, since the dentist had muttered darkly about the possibility of extraction.

 

So, in the interest of not thinking about grocery lists, presents, or teeth, I went off to play pickleball Friday afternoon.

The people where I play are a nice crowd, unlike other places where they play as though there are scouts in the audience or this is the trials for the Olympics. We’re a laid-back group. Not beginners, but with enough skills to challenge each other.

I play to the front, my days of running back and forth are gone. Or at least I’m not willing to risk a turned ankle or a fall. There I was - receiving from the other side - I raised my paddle to return with a brilliant shot my opponent would never get to, and . . . .Instead I belted the ball, not to the other court but right into my nose.

Would I now have not only a sore jaw from the dentist, but a black eye for Christmas?

But we found the gym’s first aid kit and I was ordered to the side lines with instructions to Sit still! and Keep that ice pack on your face!

It must have worked because no black eye today, and when I played the next game, we won.

Potatoes and Pajamas

 

(For anyone interested, as requested by Steve at Shadows and Light, here’s a link to the recipe for that chocolate cake I mentioned previously. Wacky Cake)

 

          Here we go – less than a week and the mad shuffle begins. A friend of mine decided that everyone, everyone is getting gift cards and that was it. Another friend will be ordering take-out (albeit fancy take-out) for their Christmas meal. Truly role models for better living.

Vinegar Sweetness

 

Knowledge can be a dangerous thing. Because I generally enjoy cooking, if I want something, I often just make it myself.

The non-writing life

Snow today. This is nothing new, since we had a fair amount last week, but this 1 inch scattering has convinced me that no, I can stay home from yoga.

Author Stroll

 

All packed and ready to go –

One of the turkey gang was there to see me off.

Luckily I got to the event super-early and snagged one of the good tables.

 

It was my first time at an event this big. Twenty-five authors, music, D.J., and as I later learned to my delight, wine upstairs. For a cold, late afternoon on a Thursday, we had pretty good attendance. I guess it was a nice change from the many craft fairs at this time of year.

Although I didn’t check out as many of the other tables as I’d have liked to, there was quite a variety, from bodice rippers to graphic novels. 

The very nice woman on my left was offering her first book, which seemed to be some kind of inspirational tale. I don’t know if she sold anything, but I’d be a little surprised if she did, with the hardcover at $32.99 and even her paperback at $22.99.

On my right was a sweet older couple with a sadly wrinkled tablecloth, selling the husband’s collection of poems at $20 each.

Across the way were two gentlemen, one whose books seemed to indicate a past in journalism, with collections of interviews, and others that chronicled to life of an illustrator. The other fellow's seemed to be thrillers. The shark head was a refreshing counterbalance to all that seasonal wholesomeness.

After comparing my table to others, I noted for the future to have more height to my display, maybe some easels to prop up the books. I was very happy, though, with my pretty new banner.

Something must have worked, because I sold thirteen books!

Twins

 

I just realized yesterday that my life has been full of doppelgangers.

Just to name the first three that popped into my head:

Years ago, there was a repairman that I liked so much, I only bought Whirlpool appliances – the brand he specialized in. (Counterintuitive I know. I mean, buying something on the premise that it will need repair at some point?) No hanky-panky, by the way. He was just really nice to my cats. 

This gentleman was a dead ringer for a member of the singing group, The Statler Brothers.

 

The carpenter my husband became friends with at his coffee gatherings in the center of town worked on both our last house, and then had a hand in some of the changes we made when we moved to here to the condo. A former motorcycle cop, his resemblance to actor Joe Pesci was remarkable.

 

And then yesterday while out running errands, a Neil Sedaka tune came on the car radio, bringing me back Sedaka’s glory days of the ‘60s.

 It's been bugging me forever, but now I finally know who my hairdresser looks like.

Put another log on

 

It’s already been a chillier than usual beginning to winter. I’ve woken up to 4 degrees outside several times already, and to confirm this My Guy noticed that our heating bill is up from this time last year. We’re in January weather right now.

Getting the once-over

 

( <   Today's tropical beginning.)

Yesterday was the annual skin check. At first glance, with my bumps, age spots, red spots, deeply brown spots, and freckles, I look like a dermatologist’s final exam. In reality, all was well. All the thrills of having the UK in my heritage.

Today meets yesterday

          Our New Jersey Thanksgiving began with the traditional family gathering for the meal, but on the second day we truly visited the past by checking out grandson #1’s new digs.

Bye Bye Bean

 

   

     So you can just forget about those dewy-eyed golden retriever puppies splayed all over your L.L. Bean catalogues. Or maybe continue to order, but beware of any credit card offers linked to them.

Knees and Pecan Pie

Fact: overcooked pecan pie is almost toffee

          Nothing makes you appreciate a full-on Thanksgiving spread more than 50 years of cranking one out single-handed. 

Victory and Virtue

 

You wouldn’t think there was anything behind that black panel at the top of my microwave, would you? In fact, the panel doesn’t even look as though it would come off, but it does. I needed to change the filter, but couldn’t remember for the life of me how to get at it.

Anti-Social

 

     

    Well, that was interesting. On Monday I dashed off a quick entry about the Crime Bake writers’ conference and in return reeled in a comment from its headline speaker. 

Weekend Crime Spree

 

I began Crime Bake, the conference for mystery writers, with a master class chaired by Barbara Ross. With twelve mystery novels, a number of novellas, and umpteen Agatha nominations, she was definitely the right person for this class called ‘What I’ve learned along the way.’

Mystery Trek

          “I’ll sign up for pep squad if you do.” Or maybe it all starts with those posse trips to the ladies room when we travel in packs, as though the path ran through an active minefield rather than a series of booths full of people enjoying pizza.

Taking Steps

          When my parents separated, and ultimately divorced, I suddenly found myself no longer in Arlington, VA with my friends, dog Tammy, and cat Mosby, but living in Tulsa, Oklahoma with my grandparents.

          We’d stayed there in past summers, so I was well acquainted with my Uncle Sam’s old cache of Pogo books, tucked away in a cupboard under the eaves. But this was for the long haul, with no apparent end date.

          Fortunately, my family were readers and so was I. My mother’s attitude was that all reading, even if it was the back of a Kleenex box, was fine, so I had free rein of the books in his old room, most published in the ‘30s and ‘40s. My Uncle had at one point been bed-bound with polio, so there was plenty to pick from.

          I worked my way through, among others, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, The Thurber Carnival, Bill Maudlin’s book of WWII cartoons, The Egg and I, Gone with the Wind, and even Andersonville. I enjoyed them all even if at 11 years old it’s certain that I missed many of the references and most of the nuances, but they got me through a long summer.

  

        One of my favorites was Cheaper by the Dozen, an autobiography written by two children of efficiency experts Frank and Lillian Galbraith, pioneers in industrial engineering who tried to apply the same principles to their family of twelve kids.  

          It was when my knee (which is still deciding day-to-day whether it will cooperate) was at its worst that I was reminded of the Galbraiths.

          I became my own efficiency expert.

How much could I carry in one trip? Phone can go in pocket, book under arm, reading glasses on head, plate in left hand, tea mug in right. And the odds were better if this occurred after the mug was empty.

          Did I reeealy need that loaf of bread all the way downstairs in the freezer?

          And why walk the four steps around the couch that it would take to turn up the thermostat when I could use the Nest app on my phone?

 

Ups, downs, and out

          Up :

          Good thing it didn’t happen while the grandtwins were here.

          Down:

          Monday morning, after having gotten up, eaten breakfast, and tidied a bit around the house, I stepped into the garage – literally one step – to toss a newspaper in the recycle bin and my knee went kaflooey.

The Party's Over

     

     The weekend whizzed right by. We had the grandgirls for an overnight, something that doesn’t happen too often since they live an hour and a half away.

Shelves and stuff

Happenings this week:      

Autumn in Massachusetts

 

Well, it’s here. There’s no escaping it. Granted, our days are now dappled, sunny, and in the upper 50s, but we all know what’s around the corner.

          In the meantime, we can just enjoy the view:

 

Bisexual Shopping

 My Kohl’s Cash bonus of $20 was burning a hole in my pocket so I stopped by to see what I could score. Kohl’s has never exactly been haute couture, but I thought maybe I could pick up a t-shirt for yoga or some such thing.

Traveling at the speed of water

 

          Like so many other truths, you really can’t go home again. In my case, there’s no one there anyway and Arlington, VA is unrecognizable now – more like L.A. than the suburbia I remember, now full of traffic and tall buildings.

Sunday Musings

 

This morning the room contained at least thirty people but the silence was profound until my yoga class was briefly disturbed by a sneeze, followed by a neighbor’s “bless you.”

Yoga offers an opportunity to reflect on life, so my deep thought was, “Does anyone say gesundheit anymore?”

 

          Then there’s the fact that we all get a bit shorter with age, which makes sense- gravity and all. But why do our ears and noses continue to grow? I can’t imagine what evolutionary issue that ever addressed.

 

          And why does an Irish wolfhound remind me of Donald Sutherland?

 

          You can see that meditation for me is a work in progress.

Oral Issues

 

   

       In 45 minutes I’m leaving for an event I’m anticipating with the same dread as my dental appointment on Tuesday.

Limited Outlook

 

          Before we moved to this condo, we lived in a house that we bought – among other reasons – for its many, many windows. Something I later came to regret because each of those windows was mullioned, twelve-over-twelve. And the mullions weren’t inset; they were wooden, which made washing them a tedious, hand-numbing event.

          Window washing never having been my thing, last week I asked around and found a guy, the best friend of the son of a Mahjong friend. Stupendous! Fabulous! And cheap! Now I may not wait such an embarrassingly long time in between cleanings.

         

          Now that we live in the commune, our view is very limited. Even though we’re an end unit, the only first floor window on the side is a tiny one in the bathroom.

          Thus, windows at the front

 and windows at the back.

        

  So, when we woke up the other morning at 7:00 a.m.  to chain saws and woodchippers, I wondered if they had finally decided to take down what My Guy and I call the ‘possum tree. It’s earned its name over the years because while it has glorious blooms in the spring – for about 5 days – the rest of the time it looks like it’s at death’s door.

          The tree sits on the blind side of the house, so after fruitlessly looking for activity out of the front and back windows, I figured I’d just wait till I drove out of the garage to check. (Okay, yes, I could have gone upstairs and peered down but I wasn’t all that interested - or energetic.)

      

    Later, I realized the itzy bathroom window gave a perfectly fine view of the still-intact bare branches of the tree.

        Duh.

Keeping Up

 

In the days of James Thurber, I remember as a child paging through my parents’ New Yorker magazines, looking for the cartoons. When I did find them, I often couldn’t figure out what they were about or why they should be considered funny. I did like the Charles Adams ones, which probably says more about me as a child than I’d like to think about.

Eyes

 

Yesterday at 8 a.m., mine was the lone car (except for staff) in my ophthalmologist’s parking lot. I’d requested this ungodly time since I had an event in the afternoon requiring me to look presentable (i.e. not wearing sunglasses indoors like some kind of faux celebrity) and also be able to read.