Unforgettable!

"As I was driving down the street, down the street, down the street..." comes to my mind as I reflect and anticipate writing this story....

On my way to my folks in Pennsylvania, I was listening to the radio to all the holiday music.  After 3 hours of the same songs (yes, there really is a limit), I popped in a CD and came across Nat King Cole and the duet his daughter "re-mastered" with them singing "Unforgettable."  My mind instantly went to my former piano teacher, Wendell, and his wife, Lori.  They had been performers for a number of years, and one of the songs they sang was this.  Along with the ticker tape in my brain, his phone number popped into my head, so I called to get permission to record for you this story, my version of the Wendell story.

I met Wendell in the early 1990's (I believe) when looking for a piano teacher as ours retired and moved to Florida.  I had no idea what a treat I was in for.  (a sideline here folks, I always wanted to take lessons, figured it would motivate the kids more if Mom took them too....)

Wendell has perfect pitch.  All he has to do is hear a song and he can repeat it.  He can rewrite music in different keys.  Yes, I took this in a music theory class, but what WOWED me was when he would say "this one has 6 flats, this is how it would sound in the key of ____" and then just sit down and play it...(need I say more?)  

Sometimes, when life was really getting me down in the dumps, I'd go to my lesson and, knowing I wasn't going to do well, would manage to sidetrack him and say, "show me how to play it again," and then I'd bask in listening to Wendell play it.  Not only would he play the version he'd write for me (with a pencil, btw, not a computer program), he would play also his version. (Another sidenote on this:  rather than use a book for me, he'd use music he'd write because "isn't it better to learn a technique while playing a song you enjoy?")  A couple of times I opened my eyes (yes it was that relaxing) and realized his eyes were closed as he was playing.  I think that's what impressed me the most.  He not only played it, you could tell he could feel it.  

I can still play Music Box Dancer "by heart."

Wendell (and Lori) are magical people.  They married and their horses were a part of the ceremony, which took place in their barn.  Their love of animals, and their love for each other, has helped them to choose to retire soon.  I wish them the best.

The Ghost of Christmas Past

.... yesterday's.  It has now become a Christmas past.

I have to admit, this Christmas was very special.  Is it because of my grandchildren, and seeing the wonder in the eyes of a child?  Is it the humble little tree I conjured up from the barn and carefully chosen ornaments that a 2 year old could handle? (I do declare this is the best tree I've had since my tree I'd gotten from the Ives' farm!) The humble little gingerbread house that the grandchildren made for me?  I think it's perhaps the knowledge that today is my eternity, it is a day that lasts 24 hours and I need to enjoy every single moment as it happens.

Grandma's

Rosettes. A tradition passed down from my Grandma Doty.

A Christmas Story

Reading this story, it touched my heart and I could vividly picture details.  I hope all who read it enjoy it as much as I did!


http://infloressence.wordpress.com/2012/12/17/ 

Turn turn turn..turn around

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

a time to be born, a time to die, a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal, a time to break down and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones, a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.  A time to get, and a time to lose, a time to keep and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew, a time to keep silence, and a time to speak, a time to love, and a time to hate, a time of war and a time of peace."  Ecclesiastes 3:2ff

Our hearts turn to comfort one another in sorrow, the loss of the innocent.  Why does tragedy occur?  How can a righteous, loving God allow this to happen, that the innocent are slain?

We all try to answer that question, yet day after day, year after year, history repeats itself and we live in a violent world.  There are precautions we can take to ensure our safety, but when death calls, no one can hold it at bay.  He comes.  And it's not pretty.  We weep, we mourn with those that mourn.  We hug our own closer.

Are we prepared for an emergency?  Words from this popular commercial ring in our ears and we try to collect things:  candles, tools such as gardening habits, learning to live off the land.  And in the back of our minds, the emergency of nuclear disaster would devastate us all, our natural resources will be contaminated (and there is only so much bottled water in the world that you can hold onto, eventually you will run out).

So, what is the bottom line here?  Every day I think about that, every day I add more to the answer...so this is ongoing, forgive me if I skip something, do not judge me and say, "yeah, but what about this?"  Every answer is the right answer.

Answer for today:  Love and cherish your moments today, this is all we have. The past is history, it will not repeat so don't rest on its laurels.  Today is your moment to shine for every single person that surrounds you today. 

Decem-Brr

I heard the rattle
One December day
An unfamiliar rattle played,
Wild, not sweet, the rattle repeats
No peace down here no-good omen!

Here's the culprit...

Influence and Infloressence

a journey for one” – all journeys are journeys for one.  -- Sigman Shapiro

Introducing to you writer/poet/philosopher Sigman Shapiro.  Mr. Shapiro has contributed work to "Autumn Lanes" and another adventure book (poety/photography) still sitting on my shelf under "documents."  His most recent musings on his website (listed below) is inspiring to me, makes me think.  If you like poetry, like writing stories, or just contemplate the universe, check this out.

http://infloressence.wordpress.com/2012/12/10/purpose-and-meaning-what-matters/

A Victorian Christmas

The masterful Tim Ryan has done it again.  Each year he hosts this marvelous Christmas gathering in his home.  An expert in antiques, his house is delightful, and every corner has a bit of Christmas tucked in.

 
His ancestors would be proud, I'm sure.  Maybe they can see from their portrait on the wall (another stunning antique!).  Below is last year's Victorian Christmas we put together.

A Victorian Christmas by Photography by Kathleen | Make Your Own Book

Our Personal Fiscal Cliff

Jon Katz' Bedlam Farm Journal is a daily read for me.  His most recent writing was thoughts on his own "Fiscal Cliff."  I found it fascinating and inspirational as I face my own (and how many more of us face it, but just haven't given it that politically correct term).

As the years loom ahead of us, it seems the dark cloud on the eastern horizon gets darker.  The "fiscal cliff."

The aging process continues as I face each day with new revelations my body tells me:  "no more knee socks" as the pressure on the patella makes it painful to do anything but be immobile (HAH!).  The Stelera works.  It's helped my psoriasis--well and now there is a slight flair up.  But it's working.  The dark cloud again looms ahead...all of the complications that could occur and will eventually cause me to abandon another drug.  Once upon a time, I would have never considered this drug, but faced with a quality short life vs. a non-quality short life, I have chosen the one that, short term, is less excruciating.  I thank Johnson & Johnson, the makers of Stelera, for their generosity and financial aid to make this possible.

No full time job and no great gift from the wise men "health insurance."  Jobs applied for are at best, answered by a form letter, at worst, not acknowledged at all.  I spent about $150 on an outfit for a job interview, to look my best, this fall, for an interview.  Not even a courtesy rejection letter was written by the company thanking me for my time. (Can I write off the clothing?)

The "fiscal cliff."

There are a few that have raised possibilities:  hope remains when we can be constructive about our situation.   Gardens, other self-supporting means.  Barter.  Being prepared for what lies ahead.

I think of my grandmother and the Great Depression of the 1930s.  She took in ironing, sold eggs.  Her husband was handicapped from WW I and an operation that left him in pain and an invalid for the next 20 years.  Widowed at 52, she continued in her journey.  Left with two babies from my uncle, she lived on a non-working farm hand to mouth.  She'd fear the sound of the wild cats at night, alone in the farm house on an old dirt road, fearing they'd smell the babies and come take them.  In and about 1956, my parents and sister moved in with her briefly, and I was born.  The babies, by then, had been taken back by my uncle.  Gram was alone.  Fast forward to 1962, she had her own apartment and worked for the Races', housekeeping and childrearing.  When that was over, she had a few odds and ends jobs, but they never worked out for very long.  The main idea here, though, is that, all of her life, she was a fighter.  She made the most of her world.  Starting as a Wisconsin farm girl, making her way to New York, finding her husband and living her life, she truly lived.  She wasn't rich, but she never felt poor, like she could have.  I never thought of her as poor, though she had the right to be.  And she didn't live off the system, either.

Are we ready, as we face our "fiscal cliff?"

Christmas Wrappings

"Narrator: He puzzled and puzzled till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas... perhaps... means a little bit more!" (Borrowed from "How the Grinch Stole Christmas")

 I sit here buried in packaging from 5 mere little candles.  Goose Creek packs them in a HUGE box, with plenty of paper.  Scads of it....  Goose Creek packs them very well, I got them within 3 days, actually.  They truly are the best in scented candles! And I've never been a candle fanatic--until now.

"Oh Christmas Tree.."

This is the first in a series (I'm guessing), regarding "the holidays."

The tree always fascinated me.  I loved decorating it as a child.

Well, I guess I loved the presents more...but check out that enormous tree.

 Or is it the tinsel that make it seem that way?  Or seeing only a part of the picture?

Hidden in between the branches are my favorite ornaments.  I remember the broken Santa bulb that someone strung a ribbon on and hung on the tree (I have that one).  There was a red clear ball with white polka dots.  That was my favorite.  There was the "ornament" tree topper, we didn't have a star (which always confused me, weren't trees supposed to be topped by a star, as opposed to an "ornament?"  (Oh, the musings of childhood.)

The trees shrank over the years (well, no, this one is still pretty tall...)

I remember going out in blizzard like conditions to get a $2 tree with Dad, one for our house and one for Gramma Doty (I specifically remember that as being the tree that she had a resident come in with the tree and the bat was flying everywhere.  She had the flu and thought she was seeing things).  I remember the year we went with the Strattons all over the fields and woods in search of a tree.  I remember the first time we went and bought an artificial tree.  Nylon branches, color coded.  (hm...)

There are memories we made with our own children.  Always ended up at the tree farm behind Shoemaker School, if we didn't we wished we had.  A Douglas fir, always, I didn't want anything "picky."  And we had our routine--we did the lights together with me on the chair and him following with the chain of lights as I'd tuck them in, then we'd let the kids decorate.

Then the year I moved home.  I went with Terry and Julie Ives and their children to look for a tree.  Terry fired up the tractor and we had hay bales and blankets in the wagon and we traipsed through the blizzard looking for the perfect tree.  Wound up with the top 9 feet off a tree that was heaven only knows how tall.  But for me that was my favorite tree of all.  Being a tree top, branches are sparser, lots of room in between, and that space was best utilized by my "famous" Saks' Fifth Avenue ornaments.  The year Nicole lived with me, we went (again in a blizzard) out to Lowe's and just bought an artificial tree.  We'd been waiting to get a real tree, but the mood struck and there we were, it was a mood lifter for us and it was a great tree.  I have had that tree for a few years now, but it has been in the attic for the last 2.  My cats are seeker and destroyers and I just don't want tree issues.  

And this year...?  Yesterday I went to the attic barn and found my daughter's tree she had purchased a few years ago.  (As a part of her announcement of her big move, she brought me the tree in the box.)  I sorted through my box and found sweet ornaments that are, for the most part, unbreakable.  With Angela's help in construction, we then decorated Grandma's tree.  It sits here in the corner of my big kitchen, with the gingerbread house Milo, Brooke and I created together (and finished by Dan and Caleb).

Family Fun

Dan and family, Caleb and family were around this past weekend and the weather cooperated so we could take some photos.

Me and my grandchildren!

Blakesley in my dress

My boys!

Caped Crusaders

Walt

My classmate, Walt Boname, came for a visit. Not entirely leisurely, it was with sadness and support for our friend and also childhood classmate as she lost her husband this past week. He also was a high school classmate and one of Walt's best friends.

Walt's life is that of a huntsman and guide. While here he took to the woods and was able to come up with a fisher, a deer with friend Greg, and this grouse. She was wounded so she became my dinner. Pictures show the course of events.

Delicious! Thank you, Walt!

Brooke is 2

It's interesting to watch children grow, especially now that I am a grandmother.  I'm not sure why that is.  Perhaps more of the freedom to take the back porch and watch and observe, love and let go.  Teach in little snippets.  

Yesterday she came over for a visit, while her Mommy went on a mad dash to the store and home to race through the house and clean.  (Not that she needed to in my book, but I do know what it's like to try to clean with a 2 year old under foot.)  

We read books, her favorites downstairs are "My Sunday Book," which is a book that her Pop-pop had as a child, and "Baby Dear," ironically a book I had as a child.  Then we watched (yes we, always we) Wee Sing in Sillyville, a story about two children in a coloring book land where all the colors aren't getting along and how they all come back together to help Sillywhim.  And then it's time for "Abba Dabba."  This is what we watch...

And she sings along with it.  (Oh, I wish I had that on video!)
Happy birthday, Brooke!

Life and Walden Pond

“What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us.” 
― Henry David Thoreau

Something has changed inside. Changed for the good.  I have felt it coming, somehow Walden Pond has helped come up to the surface.  

Life is a journey and it is what we make it.  Among little hardships, physical aging, worry about growing older, the spring of life in your inner spirit is what life is all about.  Success shouldn't be measured by monetary means, it needs to be measured by the knowledge that you have truly lived.  

If you feel that you haven't, or are waiting to, examine yourself.  It may take awhile, but life is, after all, "all about the journey."  

This is my signature that I maintain.

The World of Maps and GPS

I gave my GPS to my daughter a couple of years ago.  I didn't like where she would take me.  Twists and turns and sidestreets.  She made me so nervous I just decided it wasn't worth it.  I use AAA maps and Google maps (my sister recently showed me how to change the maps, which is really really cool, but I find Google really knows what is best for me, haha).

I recently had to travel through Boston.  Okay, I didn't have to go through Boston, I just thought I'd see how smart I could be navigating through Boston.  I used Google maps and did a printout.

"Where?  Turn left onto...and right onto...go .02 mi. and ..." 

 And then I was lost.  Okay, we know Boston is set up like a wagon wheel, you have to turn around, because the next street will not get you back.  After playing around and seeing the scullers on the river a couple of times, I checked my smartphone for my girlfriend's email with the hotel phone #.  It read, "Google the phone number, I don't have it here."  Fortunately I had the address.  Hurray for the smartphone, the phone number was in blue (touch and it says, "call").  The conversation was as follows: "I'm lost in Boston." "Ma'am, we're not in Boston." "Yes, I realize that, that's why I'm calling you..."  With the patience of Job, he led me across the city ("turn left and head for signs that say 'downtown Boston' and look for 1N").

Home again?  I asked the desk clerk, "I90?"  
"Just follow the next right and its 95S, go until you find I90W."

If I go back to visit Massachusetts (oh, Walden Pond!) I'm going to use the desk clerk's directions instead...

Old Friends

“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Emerson in His Journals

I laughed when I read this!  My favorite times that travel through my mind are in the gathering of friends--laughing with Karen (she's such a clip!), tucking my feet beneath me in the corner of Deb's sofa with a glass of wine (or coffee) and catching up (although these days it's at my kitchen table since she's relocated but stops in whenever she can).  And then there is Dianne, we tend to go for years (shame on us) without connecting, but then a letter or a phone call can catch us up and keep the bond, just like we'd never left each other's side.

There are "newer" friends.  Those I met after I came home again.  Instant bonds formed as we wove in and out of zones, seeking comfort.  Most of us found it with each other, and an important thing was learned by me--you don't have to maintain that steady closer-than-life-let-me-eat-out-of-your-pocket closeness to keep loving each other, but growth is determined by loving that person for exactly who they are and not looking to change anyone.  Make sure you are there for them in the role you are supposed to play.

I recently went to Walden Pond.  Now, I had never even heard of Walden Pond until my girlfriend, Sheila, and her husband Kent, had chosen to visit there a couple of weeks ago.  She wanted to go to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery too.  I was going to be bold and just hang out in Salem, but changed my mind quickly upon meeting these two wonderful people.

Now I have decided that old friends isn't just those that you have been friends with for years and years, but those that you connect with, old souls, drawn together once more.

Magic Mornings

Someone told me that if you keep waking up in the "middle of the night," make a note of the time and if the time is consistent, then sit up and take notice, this is the time when the you comes out.

My magic time is 4-5 a.m., before the world on the eastern seaboard wakes up and demands me.  This is the time when I try to remember my dreams so I can write them down (they say your dreams can either be confusing issues that your brain is trying to figure out, mumbo jumbo stuff, or something you are ignoring, or...I just got a book on Inner World, will keep you posted as I unfold and read).

So I rise, feed my cats.  They usually demand to go outside, but now that they are 3 and a little more mature, they recognize cold and are waiting it out a little bit more (which reminds me to go check that catbox upstairs...)

After taking care of their needs, (plop a spoonful of Fancy Feast into their dishes), I turn to my own needs.  The dishes more than likely used for supper last night--it happened to be a drop 'em dead meatloaf that dropped the glass dish dead and needed to be filled with hot water to soak!--and my now famous goose neck pot to fill so I can have my now famous pour over coffee. That started...

I turn on the laptop.  I go to my social networks and check in.  "Good morning" to friends, reading their writings, checking in on my kids.  And then answering my email and/or looking up things that I am interested in for personal growth.

Then 6 a.m. and it's time to do my stretches to the morning news.  And on with the day.

But I have learned to cherish that early morning hour.  I can't wait to go to bed at night because I know that my time is coming up soon when I can rise with no distractions (well, after the cats).  It's my time for thinking.  It's my time for me.

October

October is filled with many blessings for me.  From the brilliant color of the leaves and the fields, to the innocence of a child as they come to the door to get their treats.

Met my girlfriend in Salem this past weekend.  Oh my did we have fun...from Walden's Pond..

to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery....

to downtown to participate in the festivities....

October...I love your color, you are my favorite month of the year! 

Onward into November....and the harvest of Thanksgiving.

Fred's

Yesterday Fred's Inn in Norwich NY was the scene of a fire.  They are still investigating.

Fred's was a favorite of ours on Tuesday evenings after an evening at court.

Parties of people:  sometimes we'd have as many as 12 people meet us at Fred's for a birthday gathering (of course, on a Tuesday), friends from across the pond, "regulars" that would meet us weekly.  But mostly just us.  We were back on the two of us lately, but it was always fun and comfortable to be at Fred's.  Michelle knew our order at the bar, and we had fine tuned the kitchen to accommodate us as we sometimes chose our own menu selection (could I have this without that?  No garnishes, please).  Steph is our little lighthouse with her bubbly charm.  A new waitress?  "We're here every Tuesday...this is how we dine...no garnishes, please, no onions, no, no, don't even let them pass over the plate...)"

Fred's will be missed, not only by us but by the community.  I hope it's back up and running soon.

Trash!

It's at least 56, because I am. Visiting my parents this weekend I removed the liner from this vintage bucket that has contained trash for 50+ years. I wonder how many tissues, q-tips, and hair it has collected. A ton? Does it have stories from the farm? The house on Albany Street? Route 12 living. The move to Schroon Lake and finally Pennsylvania. I told mom I'm going to buy her a new can and take this one home with me. Who would ever think to do that but a sentimental old woman such as I?

Cast Iron Complement

Thursday night's dinner was leftovers from previous meals.    Leftover mashed potatoes, fried in the small easy-to-clean pan.  The rather large heel from the ham hand diced and cheddar cheese for an enormous omelet. Farm fresh eggs.  All mixed together in my large cast iron skillet.  Casting both fry pans aside after serving the meal, I look upon them this Friday morning with a deep sigh.  They would be forever soaking!  I ran the hot water into my dishpan and worked on the easy stuff while brewing my pour over coffee, grabbed the fry pans and put them in the second sink and let the hot water fill them.  The few dishes one can make were done quickly and I grabbed the small easy-to-clean pan.  Yes, it was indeed easy to clean.  I grabbed my metal spatula.  Ready?  Start with the bottom of the skillet.  Yes, yes, yes!!!  It came off like a charm!  And then I remembered how easy clean up was supposed to be with these cast iron skillets, and with just hot water.  And a health benefit, they give you iron benefits by cooking with them.  

I love my cast iron skillet!  Life is easy!

Autumn Lanes

use the code FANS at checkout and receive 20% off a print book from now until October 23, 2012

Autumn Lanes by Photography by Kathleen | Make Your Own Book

The Soldier

Today was the dedication ceremony of 175 years of our county courthouse.  I have no idea how many judges there were there, but judges from every section in the court system of New York State were there, town and village, county, appellate and supreme.  Patriotism chokes me up.  The power that moves nations.  All of the justices stood on the courthouse steps during the ceremony.  They went to raise the flag and the military veterans raised their hands in salute and Charlie did too.  The reverence of a soldier for his country was overwhelming.  I was so proud at that moment that I have had the privilege of knowing him and working with him. When I told him later of that feeling of pride, he simply stated, "I'm a soldier." And that said it all.

On being "fluffy"...

Everyone is trying to lose weight these days, including me.  Some of the best successes are through Weight Watchers.  Others include the South Beach Diet, the Atkins Diet, just to name a few.

The problem with these fad diets, you are trying to fix one malady and lo, and behold! Another surfaces due to the "fix."  So far, the best advice I ever got was "moderation in everything."  The concept was out there, oh--quite a few years ago under a diet fad called "The Weighdown Diet."  The woman that wrote the book claimed that all you had to do was follow your body signals, eat what your body wanted, but stop when full.  Do not eat when stressed or bored.  I had followed that pattern and lost 25 lbs in 6 months.  I analyzed in my brain every bite I took into my mouth and ended up with the following lifestyle:  after my early morning walk with a girlfriend we would have a single cup of coffee at her place (a foreigner, she had the best coffee ever), I would go home and meet my day and when the hunger pangs began, would have my juice and complementary medication that went with it (thyroid in my case, haha).  Showering and dressing, I would find that by 8 I needed a little something so would make a decision on exactly what my body was requiring at the moment, cereal or toast or eggs, then off to work I would go.  I discovered that I would get hungry by 11 for lunch, but my body was only really interested in that half sandwich (oh, and I'm sure I had coffee in there somewhere mid morning again).  I was hungry again around 3 so would start making dinner.  I would eat by 5.  If the family wasn't around, I'd hang out with them while they ate.  Dessert, if it happened at all, occurred around 7.  But I didn't give up anything.  I ate at McDonalds, their big Mac.  I didn't eat the fries.  Why?  I wasn't interested in the fries.  I had the coke, but it was DIET.  I have since given up aspartame, so any soda is rare indeed since it is made from corn syrup as opposed to sugar.  Hey, is any of it REALLY good for you?  The downfall on this diet came from  my gut telling me it was time to STOP.  I started having dry heaves because I was overanalyzing everything and not eating until I was so dead sure of what my body wanted that I wasn't eating at all.  How did I feel on this diet?  I felt GREAT.  So I would love to try it again, but without the negatives effects I experienced at the end.

The bottom line is "lifestyle" and change for the good.  All things in moderation so you don't end up binging (but also keeping it out of your cupboard is a good guideline to utilize).

Ramblings

I rise at 4:30 a.m.  I don't mind rising at this hour, it was yesterday's that I minded!  It helps me get things done by being this early morning person.  By 9 a.m. half of my day is over!  I think and play at the computer, write, check out my facebook and other social networks.  I write (like now).

I found out Tuesday that Bill Stratton passed on.  Bill.  Let me talk about Bill.  Memories flood me.  Bill was the neighbor across the meadow.  My sister and I played with his kids, grew up with his kids, right here in Oxford.  Bill had a dairy farm.  I remember helping his kids pick the corn that grew in the meadow, and "helping" them sell it for 50 cents a bakers dozen, on the Route 12 roadside.  My Dad helped Bill out a little bit in his barn.  I can remember me and Terri going to the fields and calling the cows in "Ca Bossy, ca bossy!"  I remember Bill losing his arm in an farming accident.  I remember him not giving up.  He went on to school and got a degree in law.  The memories are sketchy, but they are there.  I remember coming back to Oxford 35 years later and him coming into my coffee shop.  I didn't recognize him at first, but then saw a man with one arm.  Shame on me for that handicap having to point out who he was.  I went around the counter to hug him, he who had been a dad, however remotely, yet very distinctly.  A man whose respect had been earned by me just by being there.  A man whom I came to asking for support to run for town judge, a man who gave me support and nominated me for that position (I did not win, it went to another, but nevertheless, it meant a great deal to me that Bill would do this for me).  My sympathies go out to his children, who are my brothers and sisters as well, his ex Ruth, who is like a mother to me as well.  I will never forget you Bill Stratton.

I think about myself, my future.  Yes, there is alot of living still to do over the next 20 years, I figure I will have that long to be able to remain active, so I might as well plot it out and hope for the best.

Jobwise, I went to the job fair yesterday in Norwich.  It was okay.  I did hand out my resume to a few companies, but was in and out in about half an hour.  Then I went to work and enhanced photography at home.

The headcold is winding it's way down.  Zicam really works!  Great stuff!

I'm rambling.

What I really meant to say this morning is this:  never ever give up.  When you least expect it, the wind hears your voice and your intentions and takes them and, like magic, can make them happen.  Things come your way and if you can recognize them you can take great joy in them, knowing that life is working for you.  And if life changes?  Unemployment, divorce (by your hand or your partner's), kids gone crazy, economic tough times, a death in the family...remember...like the sunset resting on your shoulder, that life is a mere shadow of that which is to come.  For what is eternity?  Life is about the journey, every day, that 24 hour period, is your eternity.  Live it for that day.  It's our only choice.

Early in the Morning

Sitting here at 3:30 in the morning, I've been awake since probably 2, bothered by my (politically correct term) "upper respiratory infection," better known as "the common cold."  It has been quite a long time since I've had this nuisance disorder, long enough for me to not remember symptoms at the onset--a scratchy throat that started on Saturday.  Well into the cold Tuesday, I remembered my Zicam spray that is supposed to ease the cold, if not stop if altogether (if you catch it at the onset, which would have been Saturday).

So I sit here at 3:30 in the morning, doing what I enjoy, with my oatmeal with almonds, buttered toast, a banana, and hot "throat relief" tea.

The last week or so I've been reminded of my Grandma Doty.  She was also single in her 50's, and lived a couple doors down from here.  I've been having alot of dreams about her, mostly about her apartment and her dining room floor, which was a green and peach swirl linoleum (funny the things you remember most as a child, but then, I was closer to the floor than anyplace else).  I am reminded of her as I prepare my meals (or lack of preparing my meals, I'm not the cook she was, and life is way too convenient today, whereas back in the 50's and 60's I wonder what my grandmother prepared, cooking for herself all those years (mostly 60's) alone.

I remember her little apartment with it's spookiness.  Gram was always a little spooky anyway, she was superstitious and you couldn't rock the rocker without being in it (someone would die), you daren't hold an umbrella over your head in the house (you would die), and if a bird landed in your window, someone was sure to die.  As a child, I was dead certain that there was a skeleton hiding in the clothes closet.  (Please note, it was not spooky if Gram was there.)  And the back attic room housed an old claw foot tub, so amidst the trunks and boxes and window light with all of her plants, there was this old tub.  (Now if that wasn't spooky, nothing was.)

Gram had a very simple way of life.  She babysat for the Harold Races' for many years, being there for the children and housekeeping and starting dinner, then she'd walk back to her little apartment around the corner.  She never had a car, and it wasn't until the 1970's that she got a telephone.  Norwegian baking for the holidays was her specialty.  Crisp flat crackers (no I cannot remember the name), sugar cookies that looked like cupcake holders that had a sprinkle of colored sugar, and her famous rosettas!   (Now would be the time to insert a beautiful photo, but alas, I have none!)  My daughter and my mother have continued the tradition of the rosettas.  (My daughter moved to Kansas City this spring, I know my Mom will miss her and their annual baking project.)

Gram loved playing cards.  She would sit in her livingroom and play solitaire for hours on end, while watching her television.  Her television.  Gram splurged in the early 1960's and bought the color tv, and we would watch programs in "living color."  We'd go to bed fairly early, and Gram would sit there in her livingroom, playing solitaire and watching her tv.

In later years, after the Race kids were too big to need a sitter anymore, she tried to move on to working for an old woman, taking care of her during the day.  I don't think it worked out, I don't remember her doing that for very long.

Many more stories of my grandmother to come, I'm sure.

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