Today, Capuchin Father Raniero Cantalamessa, preacher of the Pontifical Household, delivered the homily at the celebration of the Lord's passion in St. Peter's Basilica. The liturgy was presided over by Pope Benedict XVI. In his Good Friday homily Rev. Cantalamessa discusses the priesthood in great detail. He also discusses violence in the world and makes the following statement: “I am not speaking here of violence against children, of which unfortunately also elements of the clergy are stained; of that there is sufficient talk outside of here.” O.K. He references the sexual abuse of children by priests, but chooses not to expound upon it. But at the very end of the homily, he compares the criticism of the Church about that very same sexual abuse and the decades long cover up, to anti-semitism.
Stunning.
The logic is unfathomable. Under this distorted logic the criminals become the victims; those who call out for justice and clarity become the oppressors. How can Rev. Cantalamessa, in the presence of Pope Benedict XVI, claim that criticism of the Church is discrimination? How can criticism of the hierarchy that moved priests, who sexually assaulted children, around from parish to parish and built a wall of secrecy; defended the indefensible, how can criticism of such shameful and illegal acts be discrimination? And how can such justifiable criticism possibly be compared to centuries of violent discrimination against the Jews?
You can read more in this Washington Post article.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
It Wasn’t A Root Canal
It was just an appointment to replace a very old filling in an upper molar. Part of the presenting problem was an errant bit of filling bothering the gum - rather like glue squished out between two boards, it was outboard of the tooth. But the job took a little longer than expected. The dentist did a great job with the Novacaine (enough to feel no pain, but not so much that half your face goes numb), but as the afternoon wore on and the Novacaine wore off, the interested quadrant of my mouth began to throb. So acetaminophen and naproxen sodium were rustled up and I’m feeling much better.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Rebates & Experiments
The hunt for and research about a new washing machine continues. The other day my niece Kate recommended looking for rebates. At that point I couldn’t find anything on the MassSave website. But since then, Vice President Joe Biden helped Chuck find these relevant rebates which include washing machines! There are rules and it’s first come, first served, but it’s worth a look.
We also took the plunge on a new laundry detergent. (Shocking, I know!) We bought Trader Joe’s HE Liquid Laundry Detergent. I’ve used it only twice. None of the clothes were particularly grungy to begin with and all came out fine. The TJ’s detergent is scented with lavender. But once the clothes were rinsed, (even) I could detect absolutely NO fragrance! I’ll keep you posted...
We also took the plunge on a new laundry detergent. (Shocking, I know!) We bought Trader Joe’s HE Liquid Laundry Detergent. I’ve used it only twice. None of the clothes were particularly grungy to begin with and all came out fine. The TJ’s detergent is scented with lavender. But once the clothes were rinsed, (even) I could detect absolutely NO fragrance! I’ll keep you posted...
Monday, March 29, 2010
Da Dum, Da Dum, Da Dum...*
Thanks to WBZ Weather: : We had a run of great weather; now rain for a few days; to be followed by more nice weather - bordering on the hot. But for some reason, this rainstorm has closed in on me. Looking at the next wave of rain headed our way, made me want to crawl into bed and pull the covers up and maybe over. Compared to many parts of New England facing another round of dangerous flooding, I have absolutely nothing to complain about. So I shall move on.
: : On a small town note, Chuck recently attended a Meet The Candidates night. (Here in Massachusetts, local elections are often held in the spring; national and statewide elections usually in the autumn.) You can read a statement published in the newspaper by a candidate running for local office. But you can’t beat seeing how they present themselves in front of their fellow citizens. It’s especially illuminating to listen and observe how they answer questions from those citizens. In some towns candidates run unopposed, or slates are empty. So we really are lucky to have folks interested in serving. I was unable to go, but I trust Chuck’s instincts. When he reported back and gave me some examples from the presentations and the Q & A, I felt ready to head to the polls.
: : This article and this photograph both made me smile. Chag Sameach!
*That title is supposed to evoke the theme from the movie "Jaws"!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Spang On
New York Times Columnist Frank Rich is, in my opinion, exactly correct when he writes: “The Rage Is Not About Health Care”. Cogent and heavily hot-linked, his piece is definitely worth reading.
Lights Out
Earth Hour8:30 p.m.
local time
Tonight!
Learn more at My Earth Hour.org
Thanks to Jeff and Ronnie for the reminders!
Friday, March 26, 2010
Check Mate
Here in the U.S. they run an awful lot of advertisements for dating services. They talk about the science, simplicity and safety of having their particular service match you with your true love. We have two reactions when we see these ads: 1. Thank God we’re not looking. And 2. They never would have matched us!
On paper there is very little Chuck and I have in common. He likes classical music; I tolerate it. He does crossword puzzles daily; I think them unnecessarily abstruse. He’s very social and outgoing; I believe good fences make good neighbors. He was raised Jewish; I was raised Catholic. When we met, Chuck enjoyed his role as an intellectual snob: while I liked to have my finger on the pulse of popular culture. He listened to NPR; I watched MTV (back when they aired videos!). He grew up in the midwest; I’m Rhode Island all the way. He is fifteen years my senior; umm - same in reverse. Then there was the whole taxes issue, which I’m not sure if dating services poll people on, but which took a couple of decades and Barack Obama to resolve for us.
Now, I suppose, if they dug deeply enough, any dating service (or more likely a human matchmaker, a shadchen) would figure out that we share a common set of values. They also would figure out that we both love to laugh. But would they have any idea that we laugh at a lot of the same things - Marx Brothers and Three Stooges excepted? How would they know that word play makes us ridiculously happy and to do it in multiple languages is a grand slam? Speaking of baseball, we were both just casual baseball fans, but, after meeting, became devoted Boston Red Sox fans together. Where are the boxes to tick for all that?
When we met, we knew. No, we didn’t know we would marry one day. But we did feel a connection; a sense of old friends reuniting; a spark. I don’t know how the dating services figure that out. I’m just happy we were lucky enough not to require outside assistance.
On paper there is very little Chuck and I have in common. He likes classical music; I tolerate it. He does crossword puzzles daily; I think them unnecessarily abstruse. He’s very social and outgoing; I believe good fences make good neighbors. He was raised Jewish; I was raised Catholic. When we met, Chuck enjoyed his role as an intellectual snob: while I liked to have my finger on the pulse of popular culture. He listened to NPR; I watched MTV (back when they aired videos!). He grew up in the midwest; I’m Rhode Island all the way. He is fifteen years my senior; umm - same in reverse. Then there was the whole taxes issue, which I’m not sure if dating services poll people on, but which took a couple of decades and Barack Obama to resolve for us.
Now, I suppose, if they dug deeply enough, any dating service (or more likely a human matchmaker, a shadchen) would figure out that we share a common set of values. They also would figure out that we both love to laugh. But would they have any idea that we laugh at a lot of the same things - Marx Brothers and Three Stooges excepted? How would they know that word play makes us ridiculously happy and to do it in multiple languages is a grand slam? Speaking of baseball, we were both just casual baseball fans, but, after meeting, became devoted Boston Red Sox fans together. Where are the boxes to tick for all that?
When we met, we knew. No, we didn’t know we would marry one day. But we did feel a connection; a sense of old friends reuniting; a spark. I don’t know how the dating services figure that out. I’m just happy we were lucky enough not to require outside assistance.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Flower Show
For many years we attended the New England Flower Show. It used to be something we did as part of Chuck’s birthday celebration. It was also a way of cheating during those final snowy/muddy/rainy/raw days of waning winter with a deep breath of (indoor) spring. But the last few years we went, the show was a little thin, a little tired. Last year, the Massachusetts Horticultural Society canceled the show entirely and we thought that would be that. But the other day Chuck spotted an ad in the newspaper for the “Boston Flower and Garden Show”. Some on-line sleuthing showed that Mass Horticultural was still involved, but a different organizer was hosting it - and for a shorter period of time than the old New England shows had run.
This afternoon Chuck suggested we give the new show a whirl. We drove in on the Mass Pike and it was very easy to get to the Seaport World Trade Center in Boston. The Seaport area has been transformed in recent years and it was initially difficult to get our bearings, but it was very easy to navigate. There was plenty of fee parking available. The area was busy but not overly congested. The Seaport World Trade Center is located between the Fish Pier and the Anthony’s Pier 4 - the same pier where the Institute of Contemporary Art is located. The Seaport location is a vast improvement over the old Bayside Expo Center.
This year’s incarnation of the Boston Flower and Garden Show was nice, but not spectacular. The exhibition area was significantly smaller than the New England Shows, therefore with far fewer exhibitors. While all the plantings looked fresh and cheerful, no one display really stopped us in our tracks or made us want to take notes and linger. The commercial area where businesses small and large can sell their wares abutted the exhibition area, which was a new arrangement. And it was mercifully smaller than the New England shows used to be. Nothing jumped out at us and demanded to be bought, but lots of folks had armloads of flowers and full shopping bags.
I’m very happy we went. It was absolutely a breath of spring. But my socks are still on. Will we go back next year? If it is held in the same location, it’s likely we would. If it has been a particularly cold, long, snowy winter - yes!
Here are a few photos:
This afternoon Chuck suggested we give the new show a whirl. We drove in on the Mass Pike and it was very easy to get to the Seaport World Trade Center in Boston. The Seaport area has been transformed in recent years and it was initially difficult to get our bearings, but it was very easy to navigate. There was plenty of fee parking available. The area was busy but not overly congested. The Seaport World Trade Center is located between the Fish Pier and the Anthony’s Pier 4 - the same pier where the Institute of Contemporary Art is located. The Seaport location is a vast improvement over the old Bayside Expo Center.
This year’s incarnation of the Boston Flower and Garden Show was nice, but not spectacular. The exhibition area was significantly smaller than the New England Shows, therefore with far fewer exhibitors. While all the plantings looked fresh and cheerful, no one display really stopped us in our tracks or made us want to take notes and linger. The commercial area where businesses small and large can sell their wares abutted the exhibition area, which was a new arrangement. And it was mercifully smaller than the New England shows used to be. Nothing jumped out at us and demanded to be bought, but lots of folks had armloads of flowers and full shopping bags.
I’m very happy we went. It was absolutely a breath of spring. But my socks are still on. Will we go back next year? If it is held in the same location, it’s likely we would. If it has been a particularly cold, long, snowy winter - yes!
Here are a few photos:
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Ch-ch-changes
We’ve been thinking (a lot) about a new washing machine. Our 1990 model has been repaired many times and is acting up again. It’s not an Energy Star model. In fact, it predates the formation of Energy Star by two years. It’s a top load model. Now, of course, the front load style are all the rage. They’re supposed to be more energy efficient and use less water. They even come in snazzy colors like sports cars. Which makes someone of my years wonder if they still call appliances “white goods”.
In addition to thinking about washing machines, we are also researching them. Yes, that means Consumer Reports and The Googles. We were humming along, narrowing the field until we read that the front loading machines require special laundry detergent, something called HE for High Efficiency. Screeeech! I am extremely particular about laundry detergent. I only use Tide Free Powder. The Free stands for absolutely no fragrance whatsoever. I can’t handle smells - that includes the supposedly good ones like “country fresh” and “spring breeze” and “summer rain” and “why yes I do need a cloud of perfume encircling me like the dust swirls around Peanuts’ Pig-Pen”.
I headed to the Tide website. There’s no Tide Free HE Powder for front loading machines. They do have a Tide Free HE Liquid for front loading machines. But as I read through the reviews of the other Tide HE Liquid laundry detergents, I was not impressed with some of the evaluations. Folks complained about the overpowering smell. But worse than that, they mentioned the clothes aren’t getting clean enough. One reviewer also mentioned a residue on the inside of the machine which smelled bad and stained the clothes. Eeeeeek!
Dear Readers,
My questions are: Do any of you have a front loading washing machine? Are you happy with it? Have you found any problems with it? How about the HE laundry detergents - what works for you?
Thank you in advance,
Lee
In addition to thinking about washing machines, we are also researching them. Yes, that means Consumer Reports and The Googles. We were humming along, narrowing the field until we read that the front loading machines require special laundry detergent, something called HE for High Efficiency. Screeeech! I am extremely particular about laundry detergent. I only use Tide Free Powder. The Free stands for absolutely no fragrance whatsoever. I can’t handle smells - that includes the supposedly good ones like “country fresh” and “spring breeze” and “summer rain” and “why yes I do need a cloud of perfume encircling me like the dust swirls around Peanuts’ Pig-Pen”.
I headed to the Tide website. There’s no Tide Free HE Powder for front loading machines. They do have a Tide Free HE Liquid for front loading machines. But as I read through the reviews of the other Tide HE Liquid laundry detergents, I was not impressed with some of the evaluations. Folks complained about the overpowering smell. But worse than that, they mentioned the clothes aren’t getting clean enough. One reviewer also mentioned a residue on the inside of the machine which smelled bad and stained the clothes. Eeeeeek!
Dear Readers,
My questions are: Do any of you have a front loading washing machine? Are you happy with it? Have you found any problems with it? How about the HE laundry detergents - what works for you?
Thank you in advance,
Lee
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Down The Rabbit Hole
In a brief but staggering piece over at The Daily Beast, John Avlon provides an early report on the results of a new Harris Poll. (The complete results will be released tomorrow.) The poll looked at what Republicans believe about President Barack Obama. Some examples:
- 24% believe Obama “may be the Antichrist”
- 67% believe Obama is a Socialist
- 45% believe Obama was "not born in the United States and so is not eligible to be president"
- A “high percentage” believe Obama is a “racist” and “anti-American”
I shouldn’t have been shocked. But I was.
The 2008 campaign became ugly. The 2009 summer of the angry town hall meetings was far uglier. It was not just citizens, but elected officials; political leaders who were in the thick of the hate speech. But we are absolutely down the rabbit hole now (replete with Mad Tea Parties). We’re witnessing huge numbers of distortions, flat out lies, fear mongering, bigotry and calumny. What induces the feelings of disorientation and nausea, akin to that of funhouse mirrors, is that these outrageous falsehoods are being wrapped in the flag and declared patriotic.
We have to learn the truth and speak the truth, not “to power” as the Quakers advised, but to the power of the lies. Because, unfortunately, this is not Alice’s dream, but our new, strange reality.
- 24% believe Obama “may be the Antichrist”
- 67% believe Obama is a Socialist
- 45% believe Obama was "not born in the United States and so is not eligible to be president"
- A “high percentage” believe Obama is a “racist” and “anti-American”
I shouldn’t have been shocked. But I was.
The 2008 campaign became ugly. The 2009 summer of the angry town hall meetings was far uglier. It was not just citizens, but elected officials; political leaders who were in the thick of the hate speech. But we are absolutely down the rabbit hole now (replete with Mad Tea Parties). We’re witnessing huge numbers of distortions, flat out lies, fear mongering, bigotry and calumny. What induces the feelings of disorientation and nausea, akin to that of funhouse mirrors, is that these outrageous falsehoods are being wrapped in the flag and declared patriotic.
We have to learn the truth and speak the truth, not “to power” as the Quakers advised, but to the power of the lies. Because, unfortunately, this is not Alice’s dream, but our new, strange reality.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Real Change
"I'm asking you to believe.
Not just in my ability to bring about real change in Washington...
I'm asking you to believe in yours."
- President Barack Obama
Dear Mr. President,
Thank you! Thank you for your efforts at bipartisanship. And thank you for finally pushing back from the negotiating table and moving forward with health insurance reform. The Republicans were not acting in good faith. It was time to bring about the change we desired when we elected you and all those Democrats to Congress.
It’s a good piece of legislation. I don’t want to seem rude or presumptuous or impatient. But while the Republicans are listening to the noisy, bigoted, ill-informed minority and trying to figure out how to repeal the bill you’re about to sign, we need to push forward. We need a strong, vigorous Public Option.
Yes, I absolutely do believe in your ability to bring about real change in Washington. And yes, I believe in my ability to bring about real change in Washington as well. That’s why I’m not just saying “thank you”. I’m saying “what’s next?” I believe what’s next is the Public Option.
Sincerely,
Lee/Pink Granite
and my husband Chuck too...
Not just in my ability to bring about real change in Washington...
I'm asking you to believe in yours."
- President Barack Obama
Dear Mr. President,
Thank you! Thank you for your efforts at bipartisanship. And thank you for finally pushing back from the negotiating table and moving forward with health insurance reform. The Republicans were not acting in good faith. It was time to bring about the change we desired when we elected you and all those Democrats to Congress.
It’s a good piece of legislation. I don’t want to seem rude or presumptuous or impatient. But while the Republicans are listening to the noisy, bigoted, ill-informed minority and trying to figure out how to repeal the bill you’re about to sign, we need to push forward. We need a strong, vigorous Public Option.
Yes, I absolutely do believe in your ability to bring about real change in Washington. And yes, I believe in my ability to bring about real change in Washington as well. That’s why I’m not just saying “thank you”. I’m saying “what’s next?” I believe what’s next is the Public Option.
Sincerely,
Lee/Pink Granite
and my husband Chuck too...
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Yes We Can!
The U.S. House of Representatives passed Health Insurance reform!
H.R. 3590, The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, now goes to President Obama.
H.R. 4872, Reconciliation, now goes to the U.S. Senate for their final vote.
Here is a list of “The Top Ten Immediate Benefits You'll Get When Health Care Reform Passes”.
“...the work goes on,
the cause endures,
the hope still lives
& the dream shall never die.”
- Senator Ted Kennedy first at the 1980 Democratic National Convention and again at the 2008 Democratic Convention
“The work begins anew.
The hope rises again.
And the dream lives on.”
- Senator Ted Kennedy at the 2008 Democratic Convention
Thank you Teddy for all you did on our behalf.
I can’t help but believe that we would have gotten an even stronger piece of legislation, had you still been here working for us, on the cause of your life.
: : Update: Here is the link to the video and the text of President Obama’s address to the nation this evening on health care reform.
: : Update II: Here is a link to an additional summary of “10 Things Every American Should Know About Health Care Reform”.
H.R. 3590, The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, now goes to President Obama.
H.R. 4872, Reconciliation, now goes to the U.S. Senate for their final vote.
Here is a list of “The Top Ten Immediate Benefits You'll Get When Health Care Reform Passes”.
“...the work goes on,
the cause endures,
the hope still lives
& the dream shall never die.”
- Senator Ted Kennedy first at the 1980 Democratic National Convention and again at the 2008 Democratic Convention
“The work begins anew.
The hope rises again.
And the dream lives on.”
- Senator Ted Kennedy at the 2008 Democratic Convention
Thank you Teddy for all you did on our behalf.
I can’t help but believe that we would have gotten an even stronger piece of legislation, had you still been here working for us, on the cause of your life.
: : Update: Here is the link to the video and the text of President Obama’s address to the nation this evening on health care reform.
: : Update II: Here is a link to an additional summary of “10 Things Every American Should Know About Health Care Reform”.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Early Riser
Chuck and I took advantage of the warm, but still mostly pre-buggy weather to get some yardwork done. It all went smoothly except for a wayward pricker cane which caught me hard on the side of my neck. Yowza!
As we were working in front of the house I spotted this little crocus bud. Based on photographs from past Springs, this unusually warm weather has sped up the season quite a bit. Of course, snowfalls in April are not unheard of around here, so we won’t get too far ahead of ourselves. We’ll just enjoy the moments.
Vicious Vitriol
Today there was another gathering of the tea party-er types in Washington D.C. Last September I wrote about what I saw as the racism at the core of their blind rage.
Today, once again, they revealed themselves as angry bigots, screaming racial epithets at Democratic African American members of Congress, including the venerable John Lewis of Georgia. Additionally, they showed themselves to be homophobes as they shouted at Congressman Barney Frank of Massachusetts, who is openly gay.
The occasion for their assembly: health insurance reform.
Today, once again, they revealed themselves as angry bigots, screaming racial epithets at Democratic African American members of Congress, including the venerable John Lewis of Georgia. Additionally, they showed themselves to be homophobes as they shouted at Congressman Barney Frank of Massachusetts, who is openly gay.
The occasion for their assembly: health insurance reform.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Hell Hath No Fury...
I confess, when stuck in a waiting room, I seek out People magazine. I take everything they - and all the other “celebrity focused” magazines - publish with a grain of salt. Actually, it’s more like a healthy handful. But if I’m nervous about a doctor’s visit, I will happily fall into their glossy pages. Some of the lesser pure gossip/fiction rags are just outrageous. Standing in line at the grocery store, scanning the cheesy headlines, can really infuriate me. So while I’m not addicted to Hollywood gossip - and I sure don’t do it here - one story this week captured my attention: Sandra Bullock and her husband of five years, Jesse James.
I happened to catch part of Barbara Walters interview with Sandra on Oscar night. I don’t know Ms. Bullock from Adam’s off ox, but she came across as warm, personable and in love with her husband. Then she went on to win the Best Actress Academy Award for “The Blind Side” and thanked Mr. James during her acceptance speech. Less than two weeks later, Jesse James has issued an apology to his wife Sandra and his three children. I have no idea what Mr. James did or didn’t do with the tattling tattooed stripper. But Jiminy Cricket, if he did do something that requires a blanket public apology, he is a royal ass!
Yes, I know it takes two to make a marriage - blah, blah, blah. But when I read about his apology, all I could think of was how Ms. Bullock had thanked him during her speech. If the marriage goes down in flames, Mr. James is inextricably tied to that peak professional and personal moment of acknowledgement and achievement. If she didn’t think they were on solid ground, would she have been so openly appreciative and affectionate? I don’t think so. I know I wouldn’t have. So at the moment, I’m on Sandra’s “side”. I know this isn’t like picking teams for dodgeball or red rover, but Jesse James has managed to get my hackles up and tick me off. Cuz it sure feels like he blindsided Sandra.
I happened to catch part of Barbara Walters interview with Sandra on Oscar night. I don’t know Ms. Bullock from Adam’s off ox, but she came across as warm, personable and in love with her husband. Then she went on to win the Best Actress Academy Award for “The Blind Side” and thanked Mr. James during her acceptance speech. Less than two weeks later, Jesse James has issued an apology to his wife Sandra and his three children. I have no idea what Mr. James did or didn’t do with the tattling tattooed stripper. But Jiminy Cricket, if he did do something that requires a blanket public apology, he is a royal ass!
Yes, I know it takes two to make a marriage - blah, blah, blah. But when I read about his apology, all I could think of was how Ms. Bullock had thanked him during her speech. If the marriage goes down in flames, Mr. James is inextricably tied to that peak professional and personal moment of acknowledgement and achievement. If she didn’t think they were on solid ground, would she have been so openly appreciative and affectionate? I don’t think so. I know I wouldn’t have. So at the moment, I’m on Sandra’s “side”. I know this isn’t like picking teams for dodgeball or red rover, but Jesse James has managed to get my hackles up and tick me off. Cuz it sure feels like he blindsided Sandra.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Go Sistahs!
As I Tweeted earlier tonight, smart people don’t mess with nuns!
Congressman Bart Stupak is dismissing the nuns.
(He actually picked the bishops over the nuns!)
Ergo, Bart Stupak is not very bright.
Here’s a copy of the letter the leaders of numerous religious organizations sent to members of Congress. These women represent 59,000 Catholic Sisters across the United States. They are urging the passage of a strong healthcare bill.
As the sisters put it:
“For us, this health care reform is a faith mandate for life and dignity of all of our people.”
That fits perfectly with what I remember of the nuns who educated me over sixteen years.
Congressman Bart Stupak is dismissing the nuns.
(He actually picked the bishops over the nuns!)
Ergo, Bart Stupak is not very bright.
Here’s a copy of the letter the leaders of numerous religious organizations sent to members of Congress. These women represent 59,000 Catholic Sisters across the United States. They are urging the passage of a strong healthcare bill.
As the sisters put it:
“For us, this health care reform is a faith mandate for life and dignity of all of our people.”
That fits perfectly with what I remember of the nuns who educated me over sixteen years.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Happy Birthday Chuck!
”Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Chuck
Happy Birthday to you -
and many more!
Wheeeeeee!!!”
Mazel Tov!
L’Chaim!
Saol Fada Chugat!
Long life to you Kiddo!
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Chuck
Happy Birthday to you -
and many more!
Wheeeeeee!!!”
Mazel Tov!
L’Chaim!
Saol Fada Chugat!
Long life to you Kiddo!
Monday, March 15, 2010
The U.S. Census
We received our 2010 Census form.
We filled out our 2010 Census form.
Tomorrow we will mail back our 2010 Census form.
The information collected won’t be made public until 2082.
Easy peasy and quick as a wink it was.
But as a family genealogist who has pored over earlier census records, I have to ask: Where are all the fascinating and often useful genealogical questions?
Here are a few examples of U.S. Census questions from 1790 to 2000:
Value of home if owned or monthly rental if rented?
Does this family have a radio set?
Does this family live on a farm?
Attended school or college anytime since September 1st?
Whether able to read?
Able to write?
Place of birth of each person and the parents of each person?
Single, married, widowed or divorced?
Number of years of present marriage?
Mother of how many children? Number born? Number living?
Blind, deaf, dumb, idiotic, insane, maimed, crippled, bedridden, or otherwise disabled?
Pauper or convict?
Profession, occupation or trade?
Number of months person has been unemployed during census year?
Weeks worked last year?
Wage and salary income last year?
Value of personal estate?
Year of immigration to the U.S.?
Naturalized or alien?
If naturalized, year of naturalization?
Male citizen of U.S. of 21 years of age and upwards where rights to vote is denied on other grounds than rebellion or other crime?
O.K. admittedly, we definitely run up against the problem of political correctness. But Geezalu, the “Place of birth of each person and the parents of each person?” has made all the difference in many a family tree search. How about “Does this family have a radio set?” - that one’s cool. And I can think of a couple ofrelatives people I’d report as “idiotic or insane” - although perhaps in 1870 they meant something a little bit different!
We filled out our 2010 Census form.
Tomorrow we will mail back our 2010 Census form.
The information collected won’t be made public until 2082.
Easy peasy and quick as a wink it was.
But as a family genealogist who has pored over earlier census records, I have to ask: Where are all the fascinating and often useful genealogical questions?
Here are a few examples of U.S. Census questions from 1790 to 2000:
Value of home if owned or monthly rental if rented?
Does this family have a radio set?
Does this family live on a farm?
Attended school or college anytime since September 1st?
Whether able to read?
Able to write?
Place of birth of each person and the parents of each person?
Single, married, widowed or divorced?
Number of years of present marriage?
Mother of how many children? Number born? Number living?
Blind, deaf, dumb, idiotic, insane, maimed, crippled, bedridden, or otherwise disabled?
Pauper or convict?
Profession, occupation or trade?
Number of months person has been unemployed during census year?
Weeks worked last year?
Wage and salary income last year?
Value of personal estate?
Year of immigration to the U.S.?
Naturalized or alien?
If naturalized, year of naturalization?
Male citizen of U.S. of 21 years of age and upwards where rights to vote is denied on other grounds than rebellion or other crime?
O.K. admittedly, we definitely run up against the problem of political correctness. But Geezalu, the “Place of birth of each person and the parents of each person?” has made all the difference in many a family tree search. How about “Does this family have a radio set?” - that one’s cool. And I can think of a couple of
Sunday, March 14, 2010
A Long Strange Trip
You never know what might prove to be important.
Thirty years ago, I accompanied a young man on a visit to his barber. It was a small shop, in a small town - think Andy Griffith in Mayberry. I sat in a chair against the wall facing where my then fiance was getting a haircut. We three chatted and visited. I was fascinated by the barber’s technique. I had never seen a barber at work before. He was skilled and swift, but there was a discernible pattern to his spare motions. In the coming months, with money impossibly tight, I attempted to duplicate that haircut for my new husband. We both survived and through the years I got better at it.
Fast forward several years and the young man and I are standing in a hallway, in a courthouse, in a much bigger town than the one where that barbershop had been. I was struck by his haircut. It was a new style, not the one the barber had inadvertently taught me; not the one I had been replicating for eight years. The love was long gone between us, but I reflexively reached up toward his hair, commenting favorably on the style. He snapped his head away. Soon we were in a courtroom with a judge and lawyers and the marriage, neither of us should have ever entered into, was dissolved.
This afternoon, I cut my husband Chuck’s hair. I’ve been doing it for around two decades. Chuck looks nothing like my first husband. His hair is completely different as well. But that one visit to a barbershop and many years of practice, has found me working smoothly, quickly and with ease. Each time I give Chuck a haircut and trim his beard, I swear it takes ten years off him. Mind you, that’s not cumulative! But with Chuck’s birthday coming up on Tuesday, today’s cut makes him look closer to 57 than 67 - something which Chuck appreciates.
I wish I could have found a way to get to exactly this same point in my life without that first marriage. (I’m certain my ex-husband wishes the very same thing.) Chuck and I are bashert: predestined, soulmates, meant to be. But we needed all those years, the moves, the job changes, in order to finally cross paths and be together.
And without that detour to a barbershop in a very small town, I never would have learned how to cut my husband Chuck’s hair...
Thirty years ago, I accompanied a young man on a visit to his barber. It was a small shop, in a small town - think Andy Griffith in Mayberry. I sat in a chair against the wall facing where my then fiance was getting a haircut. We three chatted and visited. I was fascinated by the barber’s technique. I had never seen a barber at work before. He was skilled and swift, but there was a discernible pattern to his spare motions. In the coming months, with money impossibly tight, I attempted to duplicate that haircut for my new husband. We both survived and through the years I got better at it.
Fast forward several years and the young man and I are standing in a hallway, in a courthouse, in a much bigger town than the one where that barbershop had been. I was struck by his haircut. It was a new style, not the one the barber had inadvertently taught me; not the one I had been replicating for eight years. The love was long gone between us, but I reflexively reached up toward his hair, commenting favorably on the style. He snapped his head away. Soon we were in a courtroom with a judge and lawyers and the marriage, neither of us should have ever entered into, was dissolved.
This afternoon, I cut my husband Chuck’s hair. I’ve been doing it for around two decades. Chuck looks nothing like my first husband. His hair is completely different as well. But that one visit to a barbershop and many years of practice, has found me working smoothly, quickly and with ease. Each time I give Chuck a haircut and trim his beard, I swear it takes ten years off him. Mind you, that’s not cumulative! But with Chuck’s birthday coming up on Tuesday, today’s cut makes him look closer to 57 than 67 - something which Chuck appreciates.
I wish I could have found a way to get to exactly this same point in my life without that first marriage. (I’m certain my ex-husband wishes the very same thing.) Chuck and I are bashert: predestined, soulmates, meant to be. But we needed all those years, the moves, the job changes, in order to finally cross paths and be together.
And without that detour to a barbershop in a very small town, I never would have learned how to cut my husband Chuck’s hair...
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Spring Ahead
Spring this!
I’ve posted about this before and my position has not changed: Daylight Saving Time is stupid.
Although I may have put it a bit more eloquently in the past.
I’ve posted about this before and my position has not changed: Daylight Saving Time is stupid.
Although I may have put it a bit more eloquently in the past.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Splat & Sniff
I didn’t plan to accessorize with Marinara sauce tonight.
I certainly didn’t expect to have it from the tip of my shoes to the top of my shoulder.
We were beginning to check out at Trader Joe’s in Shrewsbury tonight. The nice gal working the register (I’m sorry, I can’t remember anyone’s name.) pulled our carriage toward her and began to unload it and scan the items. (Yes, they really do empty your cart, ring up your order and they will even bag your groceries for you if you want!) She reached for a small jar of marinara sauce and somehow it came in contact with the counter and crashed to the floor. Broken glass and marinara sauce went everywhere. Luckily no one was cut by the glass, but I was in just the wrong location and took a direct sauce hit - from tiny spots to quarter sized splats and splotches. I sort of froze. The poor gal who dropped the sauce apologized, to which I replied it was just an accident. As I stood there not quite knowing how to de-sauce-ify myself, another TJ’s staff person came over and whisked our grocery cart off to an open register to be checked out. Chuck headed off to replace the marinara sauce. Another gal came over and took charge of the clean up and the poor gal who had dropped the sauce brought me some paper towels.
Paper towels are a poor adversary to marinara sauce. But I blotted and brushed as best I could. All the while feeling very grateful that I had chosen to wear a pair of gray slacks and a navy blue top today - not something in ivory, ecru or winter white! I thought I was all set or as all set as I could be, when I realized the sauce had also blazed a trail on my right arm up to my shoulder. I headed to the paper towel dispenser and went for round two of blot and brush. Once I had done what I could, short of a washing machine, to make myself presentable, I went to join Chuck who was finishing paying for our groceries. As I caught up to him, I spotted a bouquet of flowers popping out of the top of one of our grocery bags. The Trader Joe’s gals had given them to us for being such “good sports”. So not only did the staff work like a well oiled machine to get everything sorted out as best they could, we got flowers to boot. Well played TJ’s. That’s why we love you. And the smell of the flowers helped to offset the Eau d’ Italian Kitchen I wore for the rest of the night!
I certainly didn’t expect to have it from the tip of my shoes to the top of my shoulder.
We were beginning to check out at Trader Joe’s in Shrewsbury tonight. The nice gal working the register (I’m sorry, I can’t remember anyone’s name.) pulled our carriage toward her and began to unload it and scan the items. (Yes, they really do empty your cart, ring up your order and they will even bag your groceries for you if you want!) She reached for a small jar of marinara sauce and somehow it came in contact with the counter and crashed to the floor. Broken glass and marinara sauce went everywhere. Luckily no one was cut by the glass, but I was in just the wrong location and took a direct sauce hit - from tiny spots to quarter sized splats and splotches. I sort of froze. The poor gal who dropped the sauce apologized, to which I replied it was just an accident. As I stood there not quite knowing how to de-sauce-ify myself, another TJ’s staff person came over and whisked our grocery cart off to an open register to be checked out. Chuck headed off to replace the marinara sauce. Another gal came over and took charge of the clean up and the poor gal who had dropped the sauce brought me some paper towels.
Paper towels are a poor adversary to marinara sauce. But I blotted and brushed as best I could. All the while feeling very grateful that I had chosen to wear a pair of gray slacks and a navy blue top today - not something in ivory, ecru or winter white! I thought I was all set or as all set as I could be, when I realized the sauce had also blazed a trail on my right arm up to my shoulder. I headed to the paper towel dispenser and went for round two of blot and brush. Once I had done what I could, short of a washing machine, to make myself presentable, I went to join Chuck who was finishing paying for our groceries. As I caught up to him, I spotted a bouquet of flowers popping out of the top of one of our grocery bags. The Trader Joe’s gals had given them to us for being such “good sports”. So not only did the staff work like a well oiled machine to get everything sorted out as best they could, we got flowers to boot. Well played TJ’s. That’s why we love you. And the smell of the flowers helped to offset the Eau d’ Italian Kitchen I wore for the rest of the night!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Thank You “Nomaah”!
By the time Nomar Garciaparra left the Boston Red Sox in 2004, I was reluctantly ready to have him leave. From the moment Nomar arrived in 1996 I thought he was the bees’ knees. He had it all in both offense and defense and he was unfailingly polite and cheerful. He had a quirky at bat routine which was all too easily imitated, but who cared? The guy delivered - sometimes amazingly so. Chuck’s Dad used to tease us that it was unfair of us to have two shortstops: Garcia and Parra! And the way Nomar played, you could be forgiven for thinking we had an extra player in the field. But prior to his departure in 2004 he seemed so darned miserable every day. There had been the ugly trade-that-never-was at the end of 2003 which seemed to leave a bad taste in his mouth - not to mention having freaked out Red Sox Nation. Ironically, it was after Nomar left in 2004 that the long drought/curse came to an end and the Red Sox won their first World Series since 1918. But the players knew how important Nomar had been to their overall success and voted to include him as a recipient of a ring.
Today, Nomar signed a one day contract with the Boston Red Sox so that he could officially retire from major league baseball as a member of the organization. Watching the news conference I saw the Nomar we had all adored during his eight years in Boston. Gone was the pain of the trades and the injuries. What shone through was the kid who had played in the Cape Cod League, made it to the majors and got to live out a dream. Along the way he earned a permanent place in the heart of Red Sox Nation.
Today, Nomar signed a one day contract with the Boston Red Sox so that he could officially retire from major league baseball as a member of the organization. Watching the news conference I saw the Nomar we had all adored during his eight years in Boston. Gone was the pain of the trades and the injuries. What shone through was the kid who had played in the Cape Cod League, made it to the majors and got to live out a dream. Along the way he earned a permanent place in the heart of Red Sox Nation.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
File 2009 Taxes Electronically - For Free!
It’s that time again!
Just as I’ve done in previous years, I helped a dear friend of ours with her taxes. Once again, I was able to help her file both her federal and state taxes on-line and to do it for free!
I began by going to the IRS page for e-filing. Once there, I followed the directions and clicked through to “Individual Taxpayers”. After reviewing the information, we again chose to file with the Turbo Tax Freedom Edition. I’ve had excellent experiences using this free service for our friend the last couple of years and this time was no exception. It has been improved and streamlined and her state continues to be one of the twenty linked directly with the Turbo Tax federal program.
These free filing options, available from the IRS through on-line tax preparers, have very specific age, income and filing status requirements. But if your tax situation is relatively straight forward, it’s definitely worth exploring. Filing tax forms is never fun, but this service makes it much easier.
Now I need to take a second run at our taxes and get them filed as well!
Just as I’ve done in previous years, I helped a dear friend of ours with her taxes. Once again, I was able to help her file both her federal and state taxes on-line and to do it for free!
I began by going to the IRS page for e-filing. Once there, I followed the directions and clicked through to “Individual Taxpayers”. After reviewing the information, we again chose to file with the Turbo Tax Freedom Edition. I’ve had excellent experiences using this free service for our friend the last couple of years and this time was no exception. It has been improved and streamlined and her state continues to be one of the twenty linked directly with the Turbo Tax federal program.
These free filing options, available from the IRS through on-line tax preparers, have very specific age, income and filing status requirements. But if your tax situation is relatively straight forward, it’s definitely worth exploring. Filing tax forms is never fun, but this service makes it much easier.
Now I need to take a second run at our taxes and get them filed as well!
Monday, March 8, 2010
The Church & Me
I was raised Catholic. I had a strong, personal faith and, as a child, felt perfectly comfortable talking to God every night. He (as in God the Father) was a trusted confidante. I knew he was in my corner. As a young adult, I was a lector and a CCD teacher. Then I left the Church for many years. I did not leave or lose my faith. More than two decades later, I went back to the Church. The problem was that I was trying to reunite with the arms wide open, post Vatican II Church I had known and loved. The Church which had nurtured and guided me and steadied my moral compass. As the seasons of the liturgical calendar passed I came to realize that it was not the same Church I had left. It had narrowed, grown cold and no longer seemed focused on the needs of the parishioners - spiritual or practical, but was focused on its own survival. A desperate person or institution does not do its job well. The Church was not doing its job well. Certainly not as well as Blessed Pope John XXIII had done. And as Pope Benedict ascended it became clear that he would pull the Church even harder to the right, narrow its focus, close the doors and cast out anyone who would not adhere to the strictest interpretations of doctrine.
I will always love that Church of my childhood and my youth. I will always respect the liberal, fierce advocate of workers rights who served the poor and taught values I still hold dear. The evil of pedophile priests never cast a shadow over my experience. I had one mean nun and one cranky one out of dozens of good ones. There was no harsh treatment from any of them. Was I lucky? I know now I was. Am I grateful? Yes, for everything they gave me - nearly every bit of it good - with the notable exception of an overactive sense of guilt!
For a few years after my return I was active in my local Church. Then the bishops ordered the insertion of politics into the services. The priests were preaching from the pulpit against same-sex marriage. It wasn’t a passing reference in a well thought out homily. It was politicking, pure and simple. Unlike the moments from my childhood when a visiting priest with a background in Liberation Theology would speak out about the unjustness of the Vietnam War, these directives were aimed at limiting the rights of individuals. The Church was making the case that it had the right, nay the duty, to restrict the civil rights of individuals outside its congregation. None of the same-sex marriage laws in any way insisted religious organizations perform or even acknowledge civil marriages between same-sex couples. But the Church still claimed such civil marriages would undermine the family and devalue “traditional” marriage.
One quiet morning, with the sun streaming in through stained glass windows, I was the only parishioner who had shown up for a weekday mass. Father gave me communion and waited while I prayed. As I was leaving I thanked him, wished him a good day. We began to chat and I brought up the issue of same-sex marriage. All I said was that I could see no way that civil marriage of gay couples would ever have any negative impact on my own marriage. This priest and I had a pretty good relationship. He had dined with us in our home. So his response surprised and dismayed me. He got angry. He raised his voice as we stood talking in the center aisle. But all he had were the talking points of the bishops and the new pope. He could make no credible case, because there was and is none to make. I stood my ground. I finally shook my head and told him I just couldn’t see the problem.
At the time I felt very much alone in that physical church in my small Massachusetts town and within the larger world community of the Roman Catholic Church. I eventually left the Church again. It was far more conscious than the drift away in my twenties had been and it was deeply, wrenchingly painful. Today I learned that I was not really alone that day in my support of same-sex marriage. Today I learned that there is a group called “Catholics for Marriage Equality”. They describe themselves this way:
“Faithful Roman Catholics throughout the United States are raising their voices in support of civil marriage for same-sex couples. Become part of our united effort to create effective and respectful responses to our bishops' opposition to same-sex civil marriage.
As Roman Catholics, we differentiate between sacramental marriage and civil marriage. Therefore, we perceive that same-sex civil marriage poses no threat to our Church.”
Can I have a Hallelujah?
Hallelujah!
I will always love that Church of my childhood and my youth. I will always respect the liberal, fierce advocate of workers rights who served the poor and taught values I still hold dear. The evil of pedophile priests never cast a shadow over my experience. I had one mean nun and one cranky one out of dozens of good ones. There was no harsh treatment from any of them. Was I lucky? I know now I was. Am I grateful? Yes, for everything they gave me - nearly every bit of it good - with the notable exception of an overactive sense of guilt!
For a few years after my return I was active in my local Church. Then the bishops ordered the insertion of politics into the services. The priests were preaching from the pulpit against same-sex marriage. It wasn’t a passing reference in a well thought out homily. It was politicking, pure and simple. Unlike the moments from my childhood when a visiting priest with a background in Liberation Theology would speak out about the unjustness of the Vietnam War, these directives were aimed at limiting the rights of individuals. The Church was making the case that it had the right, nay the duty, to restrict the civil rights of individuals outside its congregation. None of the same-sex marriage laws in any way insisted religious organizations perform or even acknowledge civil marriages between same-sex couples. But the Church still claimed such civil marriages would undermine the family and devalue “traditional” marriage.
One quiet morning, with the sun streaming in through stained glass windows, I was the only parishioner who had shown up for a weekday mass. Father gave me communion and waited while I prayed. As I was leaving I thanked him, wished him a good day. We began to chat and I brought up the issue of same-sex marriage. All I said was that I could see no way that civil marriage of gay couples would ever have any negative impact on my own marriage. This priest and I had a pretty good relationship. He had dined with us in our home. So his response surprised and dismayed me. He got angry. He raised his voice as we stood talking in the center aisle. But all he had were the talking points of the bishops and the new pope. He could make no credible case, because there was and is none to make. I stood my ground. I finally shook my head and told him I just couldn’t see the problem.
At the time I felt very much alone in that physical church in my small Massachusetts town and within the larger world community of the Roman Catholic Church. I eventually left the Church again. It was far more conscious than the drift away in my twenties had been and it was deeply, wrenchingly painful. Today I learned that I was not really alone that day in my support of same-sex marriage. Today I learned that there is a group called “Catholics for Marriage Equality”. They describe themselves this way:
“Faithful Roman Catholics throughout the United States are raising their voices in support of civil marriage for same-sex couples. Become part of our united effort to create effective and respectful responses to our bishops' opposition to same-sex civil marriage.
As Roman Catholics, we differentiate between sacramental marriage and civil marriage. Therefore, we perceive that same-sex civil marriage poses no threat to our Church.”
Can I have a Hallelujah?
Hallelujah!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Ladybugs
Until we moved to this old house in the country, I never had to contend with Ladybugs (Coccinellidae) in any significant quantity. Some years we get just a few inside the house. Some years it feels like a full on invasion. This is one of those years. Some years the autumn is tough; others late winter into spring. This year it is the latter. They tend to be more active on sunny days or when the house is warm. We keep the house at 54F (12C) overnight and 60-62F (15-17C) in the daytime, so a string of unseasonably warm, sunny days like we’ve had lately can get them revved up. They’re easy to catch; we just flick them into a jar. When we have a bunch we (and by we I really mean Chuck!) take them outside. But, if I could put little radio collars on them, I’d bet I could prove they just turn right around and come back inside. We’ve done a fair amount of sealing and caulking over the years, but they’re tiny and determined.
Yes, most of them are pretty. Yes, many of them are beneficial. But they can be extremely annoying. Their worst feature is a defensive one for them: they smell atrocious! Hmm... what other creature uses an offensive smell as a protective mechanism? That’s right, skunks. So, as far as I am concerned, Ladybugs (Coccinellidae) are teensy flying Skunks (Mephitidae). Which is probably why the rhyme was invented: Ladybug, Ladybug fly away home... - - - please?
Yes, most of them are pretty. Yes, many of them are beneficial. But they can be extremely annoying. Their worst feature is a defensive one for them: they smell atrocious! Hmm... what other creature uses an offensive smell as a protective mechanism? That’s right, skunks. So, as far as I am concerned, Ladybugs (Coccinellidae) are teensy flying Skunks (Mephitidae). Which is probably why the rhyme was invented: Ladybug, Ladybug fly away home... - - - please?
Looking Ahead
It’s much easier to believe that we will always be as hale and hearty as we are today, rather than face the possibility of an infirm future.
Chuck received a call from a fellow he used to work with many years ago. They’ve stayed in touch mostly through holiday cards and seeing each other at occasional parties for colleagues who are retiring. Al is an octogenarian, but the years are weighing very heavily on his body. He has a variety of health challenges, some quite serious. But, like so many folks we know, he is fighting determinedly to remain independent.
As Chuck and I went for our walk this afternoon, we found ourselves talking about what might be in our future. When we moved to this two story house a decade and a half ago, one of the things we evaluated was, if necessary, could we live just on the first floor. There was sufficient space, but we would need a full (and fully accessible) bathroom to be installed on the ground floor. With that remodel, we would expand our options considerably. Keep in mind, that when we moved here, we were still hoping to have children and raise a family. But even at that stage of our lives, we were acutely aware of the long view.
So as we walked ‘round and ‘round the track today, we decided to move the downstairs bathroom farther up the “To Do” list. We also realize that the walking - and anything else we can do to improve our health - will go a very long way to keep us well and strong as long as possible. And with any luck, all our preparations will be like the insurance of remembering to grab your umbrella as you head out the door: it won’t rain a drop!
Chuck received a call from a fellow he used to work with many years ago. They’ve stayed in touch mostly through holiday cards and seeing each other at occasional parties for colleagues who are retiring. Al is an octogenarian, but the years are weighing very heavily on his body. He has a variety of health challenges, some quite serious. But, like so many folks we know, he is fighting determinedly to remain independent.
As Chuck and I went for our walk this afternoon, we found ourselves talking about what might be in our future. When we moved to this two story house a decade and a half ago, one of the things we evaluated was, if necessary, could we live just on the first floor. There was sufficient space, but we would need a full (and fully accessible) bathroom to be installed on the ground floor. With that remodel, we would expand our options considerably. Keep in mind, that when we moved here, we were still hoping to have children and raise a family. But even at that stage of our lives, we were acutely aware of the long view.
So as we walked ‘round and ‘round the track today, we decided to move the downstairs bathroom farther up the “To Do” list. We also realize that the walking - and anything else we can do to improve our health - will go a very long way to keep us well and strong as long as possible. And with any luck, all our preparations will be like the insurance of remembering to grab your umbrella as you head out the door: it won’t rain a drop!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
It’s A Little Complicated
Today was Chuck’s Mom’s yahrzeit, the anniversary of the day she passed. Mom died back in 1999 on March 4th. By the Hebrew calendar (a lunar calendar), that year March 4th fell on 16 Adar, 5759. If we were Orthodox Jews, we would acknowledge Mom’s yahrzeit each year on 16 Adar. This year, 5770, that would have been this past Tuesday, March 2nd. While all of this is of interest, the family tradition for a couple of generations, has been to keep all dates by the Gregorian calendar.
But, when Chuck spoke with his sister about their Mom’s yahrzeit, an interesting discussion ensued. Unlike the Gregorian calendar where the date and day changes at midnight, the Hebrew calendar changes the date and day at sunset. Carol pointed out that Mom passed after sunset by the Gregorian calendar on March 4, 1999. That means that Mom passed on 17 Adar, 5759, which would have been yesterday, March 3rd.
I mean absolutely no disrespect.
But can I have an Oy?
Oy!
This isn’t our family’s first experience with the challenge of sorting out dates between the Hebrew and Gregorian calendars. Chuck’s Grandma Minnie was born in 1888 near Kiev, then part of the Russian Empire. Minnie was born on Purim, 14 Adar, 5648. But on the Gregorian calendar, Purim falls on different dates each year. When Minnie was a young child attending school in Chelsea, Massachusetts, she said her birthday was whatever Gregorian date Purim fell on in any given year. That didn’t fit with the record keeping of a late 19th century public school. So Minnie was instructed to pick a date and stick with it. Minnie chose March 10th. Minnie’s last birthday was her 101st in 1988. We may have celebrated it on March 10th, but we all knew it was really Purim. That year Purim fell on March 21st; 14 Adar II, 5749...
For Chuck’s Mom, Betty and for his Grandma Minnie as well:
Zichrona Liveracha - Her memory is a blessing
: : There are now several Hebrew/Gregorian calendars available on the internet. HebCal is particularly easy to use.
: : For a fascinating look at keeping Shabbos in Antarctica (really!) you can read this article from the Jewish Daily Forward. I mention it because candlelighting is tied to sunset. In Antarctica, they have mostly 24 hours of light or 24 hours of darkness!
But, when Chuck spoke with his sister about their Mom’s yahrzeit, an interesting discussion ensued. Unlike the Gregorian calendar where the date and day changes at midnight, the Hebrew calendar changes the date and day at sunset. Carol pointed out that Mom passed after sunset by the Gregorian calendar on March 4, 1999. That means that Mom passed on 17 Adar, 5759, which would have been yesterday, March 3rd.
I mean absolutely no disrespect.
But can I have an Oy?
Oy!
This isn’t our family’s first experience with the challenge of sorting out dates between the Hebrew and Gregorian calendars. Chuck’s Grandma Minnie was born in 1888 near Kiev, then part of the Russian Empire. Minnie was born on Purim, 14 Adar, 5648. But on the Gregorian calendar, Purim falls on different dates each year. When Minnie was a young child attending school in Chelsea, Massachusetts, she said her birthday was whatever Gregorian date Purim fell on in any given year. That didn’t fit with the record keeping of a late 19th century public school. So Minnie was instructed to pick a date and stick with it. Minnie chose March 10th. Minnie’s last birthday was her 101st in 1988. We may have celebrated it on March 10th, but we all knew it was really Purim. That year Purim fell on March 21st; 14 Adar II, 5749...
For Chuck’s Mom, Betty and for his Grandma Minnie as well:
Zichrona Liveracha - Her memory is a blessing
: : There are now several Hebrew/Gregorian calendars available on the internet. HebCal is particularly easy to use.
: : For a fascinating look at keeping Shabbos in Antarctica (really!) you can read this article from the Jewish Daily Forward. I mention it because candlelighting is tied to sunset. In Antarctica, they have mostly 24 hours of light or 24 hours of darkness!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Going Home
We just learned that some family members will be traveling to Ireland this spring! My first thought was of course excitement for them. Swift on its heels came: “Clifden, Connemara, County Galway!” We know that many of the branches of our family tree stretch back to Ireland - for eight surnames we know their place of birth was Ireland. But for only one person, Winifred, my Great Great Grandmother, do we know that she was born in the town of Clifden. We also know that her mother, Margaret, my Great Great Great Grandmother, was born in the larger environs of Connemara. But so far, for all my other Irish ancestors, all we know is they were born in “Ireland”.
It is also true that when Kate, a member of the next generation, travels to Ireland in a couple of months, she will be the first member of our immediate family ever to return. For five generations, not since Margaret and Winifred came over, none of us have gone home to Ireland. Because we know what patch of earth one of our loved ones, Winifred, sprang from, not just the vastness of “Ireland”, Clifden is the place with a name to which we resonate. Likewise, on my father’s side, we know that my Great Grandparents were born in Glasgow, Scotland. So it is to Glasgow, more than all of Scotland, to which we relate.
It may seem odd to call it “going home”. But I grew up as “Irish American’; as “Irish Catholic”. Even the Scottish branches of the family most likely trace their roots back across the Irish Sea and into Ireland. So knowing how deep and broad our connection is to Ireland, wherever Kate visits, she will be going home for all of us. Especially for Margaret, Winifred, James, Delia, Catharine, Patrick, Bridget and Thomas who were all born in Ireland; who made that great leap of faith to journey to America and who are all buried here.
It is also true that when Kate, a member of the next generation, travels to Ireland in a couple of months, she will be the first member of our immediate family ever to return. For five generations, not since Margaret and Winifred came over, none of us have gone home to Ireland. Because we know what patch of earth one of our loved ones, Winifred, sprang from, not just the vastness of “Ireland”, Clifden is the place with a name to which we resonate. Likewise, on my father’s side, we know that my Great Grandparents were born in Glasgow, Scotland. So it is to Glasgow, more than all of Scotland, to which we relate.
It may seem odd to call it “going home”. But I grew up as “Irish American’; as “Irish Catholic”. Even the Scottish branches of the family most likely trace their roots back across the Irish Sea and into Ireland. So knowing how deep and broad our connection is to Ireland, wherever Kate visits, she will be going home for all of us. Especially for Margaret, Winifred, James, Delia, Catharine, Patrick, Bridget and Thomas who were all born in Ireland; who made that great leap of faith to journey to America and who are all buried here.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
I Should Have Grabbed The Camera Before The Knife & Fork
So, the other day, I sliced a very small eggplant, the long way, into 4 slices.
I brushed them with olive oil, dusted them with salt and grilled them.
I mixed some part-skim ricotta cheese with pesto and some black pepper.
I took two thin chicken cutlets out of the refrigerator.
In two gratin dishes I drizzled a teeny bit of olive oil.
I laid one grilled eggplant slice into each dish.
I spread one quarter of the ricotta/pesto mixture on each eggplant slice.
I laid a chicken cutlet on top of the ricotta/pesto mixture.
I spread the remaining ricotta/pesto mixture on top of the chicken.
Then I laid the remaining eggplant slice on top of that.
I grated some asiago cheese over the top eggplant.
For a little zip, I put a few thin slices of pepperoni on the top.
I popped the two gratin dishes into the convection oven at about 350F.
It cooked perfectly! (No dreaded rubber chicken!) And it was yummy. It was difficult to know when the chicken was properly cooked - without endangering the stacked, sandwich effect. Next time I will lightly grill the chicken first.
I brushed them with olive oil, dusted them with salt and grilled them.
I mixed some part-skim ricotta cheese with pesto and some black pepper.
I took two thin chicken cutlets out of the refrigerator.
In two gratin dishes I drizzled a teeny bit of olive oil.
I laid one grilled eggplant slice into each dish.
I spread one quarter of the ricotta/pesto mixture on each eggplant slice.
I laid a chicken cutlet on top of the ricotta/pesto mixture.
I spread the remaining ricotta/pesto mixture on top of the chicken.
Then I laid the remaining eggplant slice on top of that.
I grated some asiago cheese over the top eggplant.
For a little zip, I put a few thin slices of pepperoni on the top.
I popped the two gratin dishes into the convection oven at about 350F.
It cooked perfectly! (No dreaded rubber chicken!) And it was yummy. It was difficult to know when the chicken was properly cooked - without endangering the stacked, sandwich effect. Next time I will lightly grill the chicken first.
Monday, March 1, 2010
LOL!
Her name is Stephanie.
Her blog is called: “I Know It’s Here Somewhere...”
Her post made both Chuck and me laugh.
It’s short, sweet and has photographs to illustrate her points.
The chop saw & the square dog put it over the top.
I already ReTweeted it (thanks to Cathy Zielske).
Now you can enjoy it as well!
Her blog is called: “I Know It’s Here Somewhere...”
Her post made both Chuck and me laugh.
It’s short, sweet and has photographs to illustrate her points.
The chop saw & the square dog put it over the top.
I already ReTweeted it (thanks to Cathy Zielske).
Now you can enjoy it as well!
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Habits and Power
I realized that in the year or so since I began using Twitter, I have changed my blog habits. If I read an interesting news article online, I will often quickly send out a link via Twitter. But then I don’t necessarily follow that up with a blog post. Readers of my blog (either regular - Thank you! - or serendipitous - Welcome!) are not all the same folks who I interact with over on Twitter. Because of that difference, I want to remember to share some of those items back here on Pink Granite.
With that in mind, I read a very interesting article on MSNBC a couple of days ago: “Interval Training Can Cut Exercise Hours Sharply; Intense, brief workouts twice as effective as other regimens, experts say”. Once upon a time, when Chuck and I were exercising regularly, with intensity and in a goal oriented way, we learned of the advisability of such interval training. We called what we did “power bursts”. During our walking, we would count down 3, 2, 1 and then really pick up our pace (including punching out with our arms) to a count of ten or twenty or thirty or sixty. After the power burst we would resume walking at our original pace. We would repeat this several times during our walks. To be absolutely clear, in no way am I comparing ourselves to elite athletes. Ha! To the contrary, I was working hard at losing weight and increasing my strength, stamina and overall health. Chuck was going along with me mostly in support of my efforts, but he too reaped the same benefits. What I am convinced of, is that whenever we worked our power bursts into our routines, we progressed more consistently toward our goals. And if we had reached one of those maddening plateaus, increasing the power burst strategy, kicked us down to the next level.
The astute (or merely conscious!) among you will wonder why I wrote “Once upon a time”. Darn you attentive/conscious readers! Simple answer: we fell off the exercise wagon. We continued to walk, which is clearly better than not walking. And we continued to have fun with seasonal snowshoeing, cross country skiing and Carriage Trails in Acadia. But pushing ourselves with our walking, incorporating power bursts, lifting free weights and close attention to what we were eating, well, not so much. As a result, we lost a lot of the strength, stamina and overall fitness and relocated too much of the weight. Sigh... So, since last Autumn, we’ve been gradually focusing our attention back to doing what works. That has recently shifted into higher gear, which is why the Interval Training article jumped out at me, why I Tweeted it and why I have written this post!
With that in mind, I read a very interesting article on MSNBC a couple of days ago: “Interval Training Can Cut Exercise Hours Sharply; Intense, brief workouts twice as effective as other regimens, experts say”. Once upon a time, when Chuck and I were exercising regularly, with intensity and in a goal oriented way, we learned of the advisability of such interval training. We called what we did “power bursts”. During our walking, we would count down 3, 2, 1 and then really pick up our pace (including punching out with our arms) to a count of ten or twenty or thirty or sixty. After the power burst we would resume walking at our original pace. We would repeat this several times during our walks. To be absolutely clear, in no way am I comparing ourselves to elite athletes. Ha! To the contrary, I was working hard at losing weight and increasing my strength, stamina and overall health. Chuck was going along with me mostly in support of my efforts, but he too reaped the same benefits. What I am convinced of, is that whenever we worked our power bursts into our routines, we progressed more consistently toward our goals. And if we had reached one of those maddening plateaus, increasing the power burst strategy, kicked us down to the next level.
The astute (or merely conscious!) among you will wonder why I wrote “Once upon a time”. Darn you attentive/conscious readers! Simple answer: we fell off the exercise wagon. We continued to walk, which is clearly better than not walking. And we continued to have fun with seasonal snowshoeing, cross country skiing and Carriage Trails in Acadia. But pushing ourselves with our walking, incorporating power bursts, lifting free weights and close attention to what we were eating, well, not so much. As a result, we lost a lot of the strength, stamina and overall fitness and relocated too much of the weight. Sigh... So, since last Autumn, we’ve been gradually focusing our attention back to doing what works. That has recently shifted into higher gear, which is why the Interval Training article jumped out at me, why I Tweeted it and why I have written this post!
Friday, February 26, 2010
Six Weeks
We’ve been in a cycle of winter storms for the last few days. It’s expected to continue into Monday. Here in the hills of Worcester County, we’ve had snow, rain, fog, sleet, an hour or two of sun, howling winds and more snow. Coastal New England, on the other hand, has been hit much more severely with hurricane force winds, downed trees, damaged buildings and widespread power outages.
Out of curiosity (and driven by more than a touch of cabin fever) I looked back through my spring photographs. Using the past several years as a guide, we’ve got about six more weeks before anything as lovely as these crocuses push up through newly thawed ground and last year’s autumn leaves, to delight and dazzle.
Six weeks.
I can handle that.
Out of curiosity (and driven by more than a touch of cabin fever) I looked back through my spring photographs. Using the past several years as a guide, we’ve got about six more weeks before anything as lovely as these crocuses push up through newly thawed ground and last year’s autumn leaves, to delight and dazzle.
Six weeks.
I can handle that.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Math
I don’t mind math. But I hate middle of the night math. The sort of math where you wake up with a start from a dream you can’t remember, but the feeling clings to you like a damp nightdress on a sticky summer night. But it is not summer. The feeling is somewhere between anxiety and dread and sadness. And your mind is not still. That’s when math can be at its worst: bills that need paying; things which need fixing or, heaven help us, replacing; interest rates; IRA and 401K balances.
But dark of night fiscal math is nothing compared to loss and actuarial math: my father died at 68; I was 29 when he died; he’s been gone 22 years today; I will soon be 52; Dad was only sixteen years older than that when he died; Chuck will soon turn 67; that’s just one year younger than my Dad was when he died...
The math beats on until sleep once again pulls me back and lets me rest both mind and body.
Dad was robbed. I was robbed. The whole family was robbed.
Even those of you who never knew him, you too, were robbed.
But dark of night fiscal math is nothing compared to loss and actuarial math: my father died at 68; I was 29 when he died; he’s been gone 22 years today; I will soon be 52; Dad was only sixteen years older than that when he died; Chuck will soon turn 67; that’s just one year younger than my Dad was when he died...
The math beats on until sleep once again pulls me back and lets me rest both mind and body.
Dad was robbed. I was robbed. The whole family was robbed.
Even those of you who never knew him, you too, were robbed.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Heavy Snow
Oh our poor rose bush. Last winter it suffered through the ice storm. Now the eight inches of heavy, dense, snowball-making snow which fell last night caused its branches to bow low once again. It wasn’t just the rose bush. It was the mock orange, the hemlocks, the lilacs. Even the boundless honeysuckle I despise was brought low, but seems not to have broken. We did what we could to ease the burden, but only spring sun and much warmer days will tell the final tale.
Here’s something a little prettier:
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Never Miss A Moment
For several years, Chuck has created a calendar reflecting the schedule for the Boston Red Sox, using an Excel spreadsheet. This year, he discovered that the Red Sox have a downloadable iCal subscription!
Why aren’t you all jumping up and down with unbridled excitement?
It’s the Boston Red Sox.
It’s a downloadable calendar for Apple’s iCal.
And it’s a subscription - meaning if there’s a change, it will automatically update your calendar.
There you go, now I can feel you jumping up and down with unbridled excitement!
For just a second there, you had me a wee bit worried.
So good, so good, so good!
Why aren’t you all jumping up and down with unbridled excitement?
It’s the Boston Red Sox.
It’s a downloadable calendar for Apple’s iCal.
And it’s a subscription - meaning if there’s a change, it will automatically update your calendar.
There you go, now I can feel you jumping up and down with unbridled excitement!
For just a second there, you had me a wee bit worried.
So good, so good, so good!
Party Of Four!
Veronica’s second daughter Emily made her appearance in the world today! Best wishes to Ronnie, her husband Steven, big sister Sarah and, of course, little Miss Emily!
Monday, February 22, 2010
#FoodFail - Response
Or: I Am More Than Just Rubber Chicken!
A couple of weeks ago I saw a new, very simple recipe for spaghetti squash - somewhere. I can’t find it now, but it stuck in my mind. I’ve cooked spaghetti squash before and it was always pretty good, but no way was it my favorite veggie. When we were shopping with my Mom in Rhode Island I found a spaghetti squash which was a Goldilocks - not too big, not too small. I bought it. Then this how to was posted by Steamy Kitchen over on Pioneer Woman’s Tasty Kitchen Blog. It reminded me of the earlier (now missing) recipe. I knew the stars were aligning.
I’ve never had trouble cutting a Spaghetti Squash in half. So that’s what I did first. I placed it cut side down in a baking dish and popped it in the microwave. Six or seven minutes later, I added a little water to the dish and slid it into a 375F degree oven. (If you’re a Spaghetti Squash virgin, follow Steamy Kitchen’s how to and read the comments as well - lots of good tips.)
Meanwhile, in a saute pan, I added a generous amount of crushed garlic to some olive oil and butter. I grated in a little nutmeg and added some salt and pepper. Once the Spaghetti Squash was cooked, cleaned of seeds and spaghetti-fied, I added the squash to the garlic mixture in the pan and tossed it. When I served it as a side dish, I grated some Asiago cheese over the top. Delicious!
A couple of weeks ago I saw a new, very simple recipe for spaghetti squash - somewhere. I can’t find it now, but it stuck in my mind. I’ve cooked spaghetti squash before and it was always pretty good, but no way was it my favorite veggie. When we were shopping with my Mom in Rhode Island I found a spaghetti squash which was a Goldilocks - not too big, not too small. I bought it. Then this how to was posted by Steamy Kitchen over on Pioneer Woman’s Tasty Kitchen Blog. It reminded me of the earlier (now missing) recipe. I knew the stars were aligning.
I’ve never had trouble cutting a Spaghetti Squash in half. So that’s what I did first. I placed it cut side down in a baking dish and popped it in the microwave. Six or seven minutes later, I added a little water to the dish and slid it into a 375F degree oven. (If you’re a Spaghetti Squash virgin, follow Steamy Kitchen’s how to and read the comments as well - lots of good tips.)
Meanwhile, in a saute pan, I added a generous amount of crushed garlic to some olive oil and butter. I grated in a little nutmeg and added some salt and pepper. Once the Spaghetti Squash was cooked, cleaned of seeds and spaghetti-fied, I added the squash to the garlic mixture in the pan and tossed it. When I served it as a side dish, I grated some Asiago cheese over the top. Delicious!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
#FoodFail
I’ve heard of “rubber chicken” when folks talk about having to attend big conferences and awards dinners where lackluster food is served. But it wasn’t until this evening that I was the one responsible for serving it! Oh my God! It was terrible! I honestly haven’t a clue what the heck went wrong. All I know is that the knife bounced right off the chicken breast. We’re lucky nobody lost an eye! Chuck reaffirmed his eligibility for sainthood by simply saying that I have “made better meals” - - - and then he ate it! There was a moment when I wondered if I had purchased a fake chicken breast like the plastic sushi in the windows of some Japanese restaurants; or the wax fruit on my grandmother’s dining room table.
It was dreadful.
And, I’ll admit it, I cried.
Trust me, that chicken was no laughing matter!
It was dreadful.
And, I’ll admit it, I cried.
Trust me, that chicken was no laughing matter!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Ice Out
Our local high school track is clear! Even though our part of Central Massachusetts has missed out on the very heavy snows which have pounded our neighbors to the east and south, we have had constant snow cover for months. Our snow sneaks (similar to these) are great, but the iciness and uneven surface, pushed us into the salty, sandy parking lots. This afternoon we were able to wear our regular sneakers and walk on the track. With the exception of some icy puddles and slick spots it was good. And the slippery sections just gave us an excuse to hold hands to insure against a fall!
When the weather has been truly dismal (snow, sleet, bitter cold, etc.) I’ve been doing some of my Leslie Sansone “Walk At Home” tapes. (Also available here) My VHS tapes are several years old, but I assume that her contemporary DVDs are just as good, if not better. You start out walking in place - easy peasy. Then you add a few extra steps and you can incorporate your own hand weights as well. The introductory tape is brief. You get to the end of it and think, O.K. I can do this. Where’s the next tape? Soon you’re up to thirty minutes and then more. Honestly, once you get used to the pattern, you can flip on the TV and watch your favorite show while you walk. Chuck has tried doing the “Walk At Home” tapes with me. Let’s say it wasn’t a good fit for his personality! He didn’t mind Ms. Sansone. However he does want to actually go somewhere when he walks! So do I. That’s why we were both so happy to have the track available again. But, for me anyway, the tapes are good back up plan.
When the weather has been truly dismal (snow, sleet, bitter cold, etc.) I’ve been doing some of my Leslie Sansone “Walk At Home” tapes. (Also available here) My VHS tapes are several years old, but I assume that her contemporary DVDs are just as good, if not better. You start out walking in place - easy peasy. Then you add a few extra steps and you can incorporate your own hand weights as well. The introductory tape is brief. You get to the end of it and think, O.K. I can do this. Where’s the next tape? Soon you’re up to thirty minutes and then more. Honestly, once you get used to the pattern, you can flip on the TV and watch your favorite show while you walk. Chuck has tried doing the “Walk At Home” tapes with me. Let’s say it wasn’t a good fit for his personality! He didn’t mind Ms. Sansone. However he does want to actually go somewhere when he walks! So do I. That’s why we were both so happy to have the track available again. But, for me anyway, the tapes are good back up plan.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Less Than Two Weeks...
Olympics shlympics!
The very first spring training game for the Boston Red Sox will take place Wednesday, March 3, 2010!
Yes, I know the Olympics are happening in Vancouver, British Columbia. (I’m even aware of the oddly international family of skaters: The Reeds. There are interesting sports and less interesting sports; nifty outfits and zany outfits; and fabulously beautiful medals being awarded - and occasionally broadcast. Despite NBC’s endless hours of frenetic, scattershot coverage, they seem less interested in the events and more interested in their “packages” and interviews in front of the fake (Thank you Stephen Colbert!) fireplace.)
I know the official Republicans are embracing the wingers and the extremists. (While they seem to relish being the party of NO, they want their power back. To get it they need, as George Steinbrenner was known to say, “meat in the seats”. To get that, they need voters in the booths. The TeaPartyTypes we see on television are just the ones who made the scurrilous signs and hit the streets. There are more of them at home shouting at their TVs. The Republicans are pandering to and partnering with them to get their votes, so they can be the party in legitimate power once again. Not just wielding the kind of power toddlers do when they throw themselves down on the floor of the grocery store, in a full blown tantrum, demanding the candy bar.)
In the good news column, I know the Public Option appears to have taken a turn for the better. (Although I don’t know exactly how the patient was resuscitated nor who administered CPR, I suspect it was the progressives - both voters and members of Congress. It is also possible that the Democrats, in a collective epiphanous moment, decided to leave the screaming toddlers wailing on the floor and act in the best interests of the American people.)
All that said, I confess to news burnout. Good, bad or truly strange news - I don’t much care. I am crispy. I am ready for spring training. I’m ready for old friends to take the field and the new players to introduce themselves. I want to hear Don and Jerry and the Eeyoresque sound of the foghorn as Jerry declares the “fog of spring training”. I want it to be simpler. And yes, the complex minutiae of baseball statistics and rules will be a blessed, comforting, distracting relief from governmental politics and the politics of international sport.
The very first spring training game for the Boston Red Sox will take place Wednesday, March 3, 2010!
Yes, I know the Olympics are happening in Vancouver, British Columbia. (I’m even aware of the oddly international family of skaters: The Reeds. There are interesting sports and less interesting sports; nifty outfits and zany outfits; and fabulously beautiful medals being awarded - and occasionally broadcast. Despite NBC’s endless hours of frenetic, scattershot coverage, they seem less interested in the events and more interested in their “packages” and interviews in front of the fake (Thank you Stephen Colbert!) fireplace.)
I know the official Republicans are embracing the wingers and the extremists. (While they seem to relish being the party of NO, they want their power back. To get it they need, as George Steinbrenner was known to say, “meat in the seats”. To get that, they need voters in the booths. The TeaPartyTypes we see on television are just the ones who made the scurrilous signs and hit the streets. There are more of them at home shouting at their TVs. The Republicans are pandering to and partnering with them to get their votes, so they can be the party in legitimate power once again. Not just wielding the kind of power toddlers do when they throw themselves down on the floor of the grocery store, in a full blown tantrum, demanding the candy bar.)
In the good news column, I know the Public Option appears to have taken a turn for the better. (Although I don’t know exactly how the patient was resuscitated nor who administered CPR, I suspect it was the progressives - both voters and members of Congress. It is also possible that the Democrats, in a collective epiphanous moment, decided to leave the screaming toddlers wailing on the floor and act in the best interests of the American people.)
All that said, I confess to news burnout. Good, bad or truly strange news - I don’t much care. I am crispy. I am ready for spring training. I’m ready for old friends to take the field and the new players to introduce themselves. I want to hear Don and Jerry and the Eeyoresque sound of the foghorn as Jerry declares the “fog of spring training”. I want it to be simpler. And yes, the complex minutiae of baseball statistics and rules will be a blessed, comforting, distracting relief from governmental politics and the politics of international sport.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Valentine’s Day Post Mortem
I’m sure that a gazillion tons of candy were sold last weekend, not to mention a bazillion roses and mountains of cards.
I have nothing against flowers, chocolates and a mushy card.
But gentlemen, I have to tell you that nothing trumps:
taking the compost out in a snowstorm
holding hands while watching TV
looking deeply into her eyes
calling when you’re running late
calling just because
taking the car in for the oil change
laughing together
going to her doctor’s appointment with her
wearing your seatbelt
not solving her problem
solving her problem
asking the waiter to hold the onions
fighting fair
learning the magic phrase “that doesn’t do a thing for you”
listening
talking
loading the dishwasher
welcoming her into your arms at night
saying please and thank you
handing her the remote control
dancing in the kitchen
the truth of I love you
I have nothing against flowers, chocolates and a mushy card.
But gentlemen, I have to tell you that nothing trumps:
taking the compost out in a snowstorm
holding hands while watching TV
looking deeply into her eyes
calling when you’re running late
calling just because
taking the car in for the oil change
laughing together
going to her doctor’s appointment with her
wearing your seatbelt
not solving her problem
solving her problem
asking the waiter to hold the onions
fighting fair
learning the magic phrase “that doesn’t do a thing for you”
listening
talking
loading the dishwasher
welcoming her into your arms at night
saying please and thank you
handing her the remote control
dancing in the kitchen
the truth of I love you
We Lost A Star
Thelma Lucille Sayles Clifton passed away on Saturday at the age of 73. She was a brilliant, powerful poet.
Thank you Ms. Clifton, for your words, your courage and your heart.
Thank you Ms. Clifton, for your words, your courage and your heart.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
This and That
: : It’s been snowing all day; a fine grainy snow punctuated by the occasional squall. Not too much accumulation, but it means the front lawn has continued to stay snow covered since, ummm..., forever? But as you know, I’m happier with snow, than without.
: : We took our first cut at the taxes today. When I got to the prompt in Turbo Tax where it asked about our medical expenses for the year, my hopes soared. With two, count ‘em two, root canals between us, plus other similarly fun filled expenditures, I was certain we’d crest over the floor. Turbo Tax quoted a number which we needed to exceed and I was sure we had it knocked. Lots of scouring of records, receipts and tabulating columns of figures later and we were done. I clicked “Done” and was informed by Turbo Tax that we did NOT have enough medical expenses - even though we had about 30% more than the number they first quoted! Color me “confused” with a splash of “freakin’ frustrated”!
: : Over the weekend, Chuck learned that next year his high school class will be celebrating their 50th reunion. 50 years? Whoa! We both needed to take a deep breath after that fact sank in! I have never been to any of my schools’ reunions. But we did make the trip to Chuck’s 30th high school reunion. He couldn’t get over the fact that nearly all the women appeared unchanged and nearly all the men were unrecognizable - including himself!
: : My Mom has been under the weather for the last couple of days. At 86, she continues to impress us with her determination and her resilience. Get well soon Mom!
: : Last, but by no means least, we’re sending all sorts of positive energy and good wishes Veronica’s way as she comes down the homestretch to the due date for her second child! Yay Ronnie!
: : We took our first cut at the taxes today. When I got to the prompt in Turbo Tax where it asked about our medical expenses for the year, my hopes soared. With two, count ‘em two, root canals between us, plus other similarly fun filled expenditures, I was certain we’d crest over the floor. Turbo Tax quoted a number which we needed to exceed and I was sure we had it knocked. Lots of scouring of records, receipts and tabulating columns of figures later and we were done. I clicked “Done” and was informed by Turbo Tax that we did NOT have enough medical expenses - even though we had about 30% more than the number they first quoted! Color me “confused” with a splash of “freakin’ frustrated”!
: : Over the weekend, Chuck learned that next year his high school class will be celebrating their 50th reunion. 50 years? Whoa! We both needed to take a deep breath after that fact sank in! I have never been to any of my schools’ reunions. But we did make the trip to Chuck’s 30th high school reunion. He couldn’t get over the fact that nearly all the women appeared unchanged and nearly all the men were unrecognizable - including himself!
: : My Mom has been under the weather for the last couple of days. At 86, she continues to impress us with her determination and her resilience. Get well soon Mom!
: : Last, but by no means least, we’re sending all sorts of positive energy and good wishes Veronica’s way as she comes down the homestretch to the due date for her second child! Yay Ronnie!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Happy February 14th
Oh how I dreaded Saint Valentine’s Day as a little kid! All those cute little die-cut cards, slipped into thin white envelopes and delivered to one’s classmates. All the inevitable scorekeeping as it became clear that Donna D. once again had received a “Be Mine” Valentine from every single student in the known universe. Or so it seemed to the little girl with the cats’ eyes glasses with far fewer cards. ;o)
So on this Valentine’s Day, I will send one wish out to all of you:
Photograph and Layout by LMR/Pink Granite. Font: Hypatia Sans Pro from Adobe. Software: Apple iPhoto ’09 & Adobe Photoshop CS3 for Mac.
You’re welcome to “drag and drop” this image onto your computer for your personal use.
So on this Valentine’s Day, I will send one wish out to all of you:
Photograph and Layout by LMR/Pink Granite. Font: Hypatia Sans Pro from Adobe. Software: Apple iPhoto ’09 & Adobe Photoshop CS3 for Mac.
You’re welcome to “drag and drop” this image onto your computer for your personal use.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Milton
Today has been Chuck’s Dad’s yahrzeit. One year ago today Chuck’s sister Carol was sitting at Dad’s bedside in Washington state, knowing the end was very near. She dialed Chuck and held the phone up to Dad's ear so that Chuck could speak to his Dad one last time. Soon Dad took his last breath, surrounded by family and love.This is the memorial card we made in honor of Dad and shared with folks at his memorial service. It was printed on parchment and mounted onto a piece of heavy brown cardstock, tied at the top with a ribbon.
Photographs from our family collection. Layout by LMR/Pink Granite. Fonts: Humana Serif Md ITC TT and Lucida Calligraphy. Paper: “Maps” from the Bookworm Collection by Erica Hite. Software: Apple iPhoto ’09 & Adobe Photoshop CS3 for Mac.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Echoes
During most of the year, when the ground is free of snow, unless we are lucky enough to see a visitor, it’s hard to know who’s living with us on our land. But when the snow has blanketed the front lawn, we can see that it’s a bit like the intersection of the Mass Pike and Route 128 - only very, very quiet.
Could this be where a cottontail stopped briefly?
Hallelujah!
Even as I type this, the Red Sox are loading the equipment truck for spring training.
Take a moment to let that sink in.
At noon today the truck will leave Fenway Park in Boston and begin the trip to Fort Myers, Florida.
Spring training is coming!
Spring training is coming!
Spring training is coming!
So good, so good, so good!
Take a moment to let that sink in.
At noon today the truck will leave Fenway Park in Boston and begin the trip to Fort Myers, Florida.
Spring training is coming!
Spring training is coming!
Spring training is coming!
So good, so good, so good!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Look Ma - No Hands!
My Mom doesn’t have a computer, nor does she want one. When I started this blog three plus years ago, it was a little difficult for her to wrap her mind around the concept. Heck, it was a little hard for me to explain in the beginning! She finally settled on the notion that it’s like a diary and my readers and fellow bloggers are like pen pals. Not bad! And she has picked up enough computer lingo and information to advise her friend on how to begin researching a medical condition: “Just go to that Google place and type it in!” Two thumbs up Mom.
Today we went to Rhode Island to visit with Mom, have lunch together and run some errands. (Mom stopped driving back in August.) I decided to bring along a copy of last week’s Worcester Magazine. I wanted her to see where an excerpt from Pink Granite had been published in lovely, tangible, non-digital newsprint and ink in their Blog Log column. I showed her. She read it. And she seemed decidedly underwhelmed. Ummm... Mom? Something I wrote is in black and white in a genuine, honest to goodness newspaper! This is the moment when you’re supposed to clip it out, stick it on the refrigerator and leave it until the edges curl and it yellows - aren’t you?
To be fair, Mom was ridiculously proud when my poem was published. And she often leaves my greeting cards up well past their expiration dates as if they were on loan from the Louvre. Actually, she liked an abstract mother and child print I made so much, she framed it. So it’s not like I’m lacking in appreciation from the woman. I guess I thought she would naturally feel the same dizzying rush of excitement I felt when Chuck brought our copy of WoMag home. It’s good fun to write and post here on Pink Granite. It’s great when SiteMeter shows visitors popping in from all over the world. And it’s absolutely fabulous when readers become regular readers and commenters. Nothing can beat that community and friendship. But holding WoMag and seeing Pink Granite in Blog Log, I have to admit, I did a little happy dance.
So, in the spirit of fellow Rhode Islander George M. Cohan, may I say to Worcester Magazine and Pink Granite’s readers and yeasty commenters:
"My mother thanks you, my father thanks you, my sister thanks you and I thank you."
And thank you Mom - without you (and Dad) I wouldn’t be here doing my little happy dance...
Today we went to Rhode Island to visit with Mom, have lunch together and run some errands. (Mom stopped driving back in August.) I decided to bring along a copy of last week’s Worcester Magazine. I wanted her to see where an excerpt from Pink Granite had been published in lovely, tangible, non-digital newsprint and ink in their Blog Log column. I showed her. She read it. And she seemed decidedly underwhelmed. Ummm... Mom? Something I wrote is in black and white in a genuine, honest to goodness newspaper! This is the moment when you’re supposed to clip it out, stick it on the refrigerator and leave it until the edges curl and it yellows - aren’t you?
To be fair, Mom was ridiculously proud when my poem was published. And she often leaves my greeting cards up well past their expiration dates as if they were on loan from the Louvre. Actually, she liked an abstract mother and child print I made so much, she framed it. So it’s not like I’m lacking in appreciation from the woman. I guess I thought she would naturally feel the same dizzying rush of excitement I felt when Chuck brought our copy of WoMag home. It’s good fun to write and post here on Pink Granite. It’s great when SiteMeter shows visitors popping in from all over the world. And it’s absolutely fabulous when readers become regular readers and commenters. Nothing can beat that community and friendship. But holding WoMag and seeing Pink Granite in Blog Log, I have to admit, I did a little happy dance.
So, in the spirit of fellow Rhode Islander George M. Cohan, may I say to Worcester Magazine and Pink Granite’s readers and yeasty commenters:
"My mother thanks you, my father thanks you, my sister thanks you and I thank you."
And thank you Mom - without you (and Dad) I wouldn’t be here doing my little happy dance...
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Compass
There’s a little brouhaha going on in the blogosphere. Someone who used to be a Christian is now an Atheist. O.K. I’m cool with that. I’d actually be cool with just about any point A to point B transition that a person wanted to make. To each his or her own. Unfortunately, the gal making the transition is slamming (hard) where she used to be. Perhaps that’s what she needs to do to fully break free. I get it, but I don’t like it. It feels a little immature, rather like a teenager lashing out against authority as they separate and individuate.
However, the whole thing got me thinking about kindness, about intention and about the Golden Rule: Treat others as you wish to be treated; Love others as you love yourself. As Hillel is credited with saying: Everything else is commentary... The wonderful thing about what we know as the Golden Rule is that it emerged in some form in many ancient cultures. It’s a common rule of humanity. Do we all live up to it? Sadly, no. Have some cultures and societies disregarded it? Sadly, yes. Yet if you asked people, on camera, under oath “Is the Golden Rule a good tenet to live by?” I believe most everyone would say yes. They might want to qualify it, embellish it or tack on other rules and regulations. But I think we could easily find common ground there. The Golden Rule is a sort of wonderful passport or Rosetta Stone or compass; a peaceable, moral way of understanding each other and behaving in the world.
Or, as I like to say: “The Golden Rule has never jumped up and bit me on the ass.” And yes, you can quote me on that!
However, the whole thing got me thinking about kindness, about intention and about the Golden Rule: Treat others as you wish to be treated; Love others as you love yourself. As Hillel is credited with saying: Everything else is commentary... The wonderful thing about what we know as the Golden Rule is that it emerged in some form in many ancient cultures. It’s a common rule of humanity. Do we all live up to it? Sadly, no. Have some cultures and societies disregarded it? Sadly, yes. Yet if you asked people, on camera, under oath “Is the Golden Rule a good tenet to live by?” I believe most everyone would say yes. They might want to qualify it, embellish it or tack on other rules and regulations. But I think we could easily find common ground there. The Golden Rule is a sort of wonderful passport or Rosetta Stone or compass; a peaceable, moral way of understanding each other and behaving in the world.
Or, as I like to say: “The Golden Rule has never jumped up and bit me on the ass.” And yes, you can quote me on that!
First Flakes Falling
The snow began at about 9:15 this morning. Big, fluffy flakes are drifting down now. The meteorologists are continuing to revise their forecasts. We were in 12 inches plus for quite some time. But now Matt Noyes of NECN has “tightened” his snow accumulation prediction such that we are now in 3 to 6 inches. Mr. Noyes is very good at his job and I have no complaints about a downgrade from a foot of snow! Compared to southern and coastal New England, not to mention the Mid-Atlantic states, we have gotten off very easy this winter. So as Chuck’s 101 year old Grandma used to say when she felt she was not in as tough a situation as someone else: “I’ll take my own laundry back in off the line, thank you.”!
: : 11:20 a.m. Update: Nary a flake is currently falling.
: : 1:50 p.m. Update: Snow is falling again & just beginning to stick to walkways.
: : 5:30 p.m. Update: As the last of the light drains from the sky, we still have light snow, but very little accumulation.
: : 9:25 p.m. Update: Was it the comedians Bob and Ray who used to say: “Well this has been one big fizzle.”? Anyhoo, at least here in Central Massachusetts, this ballyhooed storm has been one big fizzle. Even Matt Noyes Tweeted the following: “Oh Boy. Most of you saw a big, fat forecast "bust." Sincere apologies...”
Considering how brutally the storms have been hitting other parts of the country I am not complaining. May everyone stay safe and dry and warm...
: : 11:20 a.m. Update: Nary a flake is currently falling.
: : 1:50 p.m. Update: Snow is falling again & just beginning to stick to walkways.
: : 5:30 p.m. Update: As the last of the light drains from the sky, we still have light snow, but very little accumulation.
: : 9:25 p.m. Update: Was it the comedians Bob and Ray who used to say: “Well this has been one big fizzle.”? Anyhoo, at least here in Central Massachusetts, this ballyhooed storm has been one big fizzle. Even Matt Noyes Tweeted the following: “Oh Boy. Most of you saw a big, fat forecast "bust." Sincere apologies...”
Considering how brutally the storms have been hitting other parts of the country I am not complaining. May everyone stay safe and dry and warm...
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
iCal
I apologize in advance to any and all non-Apple users. But I have to say how much Chuck and I are continuing to love iCal (more info here). iCal is Apple’s paperless calendar. After decades of being tied to two different styles of DayTimer calendars, iCal has been a revelation. We have iCal loaded on each of our computers as well as our iPod Touch. Within iCal we have color coded calendar categories. Birthdays and anniversaries are in one color, appointments in another and so on. My Mom has a color coded category all her own. We type in when we’ll be going down to visit with her. When we click on that item we can edit it to add a note. So if Mom wants Chuck to bring along some tools to fix something, it gets jotted down. Likewise, all of Mom’s appointments are written in. She keeps her own paper calendar of course, but there have been times when I’ve been able to clarify or confirm a time or how she’s getting to an appointment. Plus, if I call her and get no answer, it’s nice to open iCal to double check her schedule!
All of that may seem ho-hum, but the really nifty part is that when either Chuck or I add or delete something from the calendar, iCal syncs with the other calendars! Yes! And as I mentioned back in May, that same sync-ability is continuing to be a wonderful feature of Apple’s Address Book. Chuck recently added a slew of contacts and phone numbers for his 87 year old aunt. As soon as he finished typing, I had the cards in my Address Book. Lastly, we no longer have to lug our DayTimers around with us. As long as we have our light and low profile iPod Touch, we have our calendar and address book tucked in a pocket or purse - well, Chuck’s pocket, my purse! Not to mention, it holds our music and access to the internet - sweet!
I’m sure there are lots of other paperless calendar applications out there. But if you are an Apple user, take it from me, iCal and Address Book are both big time savers.
All of that may seem ho-hum, but the really nifty part is that when either Chuck or I add or delete something from the calendar, iCal syncs with the other calendars! Yes! And as I mentioned back in May, that same sync-ability is continuing to be a wonderful feature of Apple’s Address Book. Chuck recently added a slew of contacts and phone numbers for his 87 year old aunt. As soon as he finished typing, I had the cards in my Address Book. Lastly, we no longer have to lug our DayTimers around with us. As long as we have our light and low profile iPod Touch, we have our calendar and address book tucked in a pocket or purse - well, Chuck’s pocket, my purse! Not to mention, it holds our music and access to the internet - sweet!
I’m sure there are lots of other paperless calendar applications out there. But if you are an Apple user, take it from me, iCal and Address Book are both big time savers.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Pomplamoose
This morning, my sister Gail down in Georgia e-mailed us. She wanted us to check out Pomplamoose. No, Gail was not trying to get us to include more citrus in our diet and inadvertently misspelling grapefruit in French! Ages ago, she had followed a trail of breadcrumbs from here at Pink Granite, to Ree at Pioneer Woman, to Rechelle at My Sister’s Farmhouse. It was there that today Rechelle posted a YouTube video of an amazingly talented, quirky, clever couple of musicians named Nataly Dawn and Jack Conte - who also happen to be a couple. They’re out in the San Francisco area and they have a sound all their own - even when they are covering other artists. Their primary medium is “VideoSongs” which Jack defines this way:
1. What you see is what you hear (no lip-syncing for instruments or voice).
2. If you hear it, you see it at some point (no hidden sounds).
Here’s where to find them:
The Pomplamoose YouTube Channel
The Pomplamoose homepage
Pomplamoose on MySpace
Pomplamoose on Twitter
Here’s just a little taste to whet your appetite:
Thank you Gail!
1. What you see is what you hear (no lip-syncing for instruments or voice).
2. If you hear it, you see it at some point (no hidden sounds).
Here’s where to find them:
The Pomplamoose YouTube Channel
The Pomplamoose homepage
Pomplamoose on MySpace
Pomplamoose on Twitter
Here’s just a little taste to whet your appetite:
Thank you Gail!
Friday, February 5, 2010
On Blue
It’s funny, we say we are feeling blue to denote sadness. But we take delight in blue skies. We say we swore a blue streak or that the comedian worked blue. But we also say that a great idea came to us out of the blue. We use bluing to whiten and brighten our clothes. Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” album was one of her darkest, brightest and finest. And Mrs. Slocombe’s occasionally blue hair still makes me smile.
Today, I am somewhere in that list of blues; luckily, more than one.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
On My Honor...
We lost the electricity, again. This time it was only for about an hour and a half or so. But we decided to go ahead and haul out the generator and fire it up. It was a good idea because I had been meaning to type up a clear set of directions for myself. I had gone through the process several times with Chuck last year during the ice storm. But I wanted an insurance policy in case Chuck was ever eaten by alligators and we lost the power on the same day.
No, I never was a Girl Scout. Why do you ask?
Anyhoo, I now have an excruciatingly detailed list of how to shut the house off from the grid and get the generator running safely. The only hitch in the giddy-up is that I have an “uneven” success rate in pulling the cord with sufficient gusto to start the darn thing! But, if someone brawny happens to stop by on the very same day Chuck has been eaten by alligators and we’ve lost the electricity, I’ll be able to walk them right through the proper steps to get that generator roaring.
Yes, I do understand my plan needs a little tweaking.
I’m thinking the best thing would be for Chuck to never, ever be eaten by alligators.
No, I never was a Girl Scout. Why do you ask?
Anyhoo, I now have an excruciatingly detailed list of how to shut the house off from the grid and get the generator running safely. The only hitch in the giddy-up is that I have an “uneven” success rate in pulling the cord with sufficient gusto to start the darn thing! But, if someone brawny happens to stop by on the very same day Chuck has been eaten by alligators and we’ve lost the electricity, I’ll be able to walk them right through the proper steps to get that generator roaring.
Yes, I do understand my plan needs a little tweaking.
I’m thinking the best thing would be for Chuck to never, ever be eaten by alligators.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Digital_Nation
Tonight we watched the PBS Frontline special called “Digital_Nation, Life On The Virtual Frontier”. We found it fascinating and thought provoking. We had recorded it on our DVR. From time to time during the hour and a half program we paused it in order to pop on the internet and look something up. To say we were self aware would be an understatement; self conscious would be more accurate. In my own defense, I did refrain from Tweeting during the broadcast!
The program highlighted many positive aspects of how we are increasingly connected to each other via technology. The most troubling aspect of the show was their discussion of technology, especially video games, as addictions. But the most fascinating segment was the early research which shows that folks who multi-task excessively with technology aren’t absorbing information in the ramped up, super-efficient way they think they are. Stanford Professor Clifford Nass said: “We have not yet found something that [multitaskers] are definitely better at than people who don't multitask.”
Uh oh...
The program highlighted many positive aspects of how we are increasingly connected to each other via technology. The most troubling aspect of the show was their discussion of technology, especially video games, as addictions. But the most fascinating segment was the early research which shows that folks who multi-task excessively with technology aren’t absorbing information in the ramped up, super-efficient way they think they are. Stanford Professor Clifford Nass said: “We have not yet found something that [multitaskers] are definitely better at than people who don't multitask.”
Uh oh...
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
That Famous River In Egypt
I’m a crummy passenger. Actually, I used to be a terrible passenger, but now I believe even Chuck would say that I have improved to being a mediocre, occasionally pleasant passenger. Back in 1998, when we drove cross country, I was still too much of a control freak to be consistently comfortable just sitting in the passenger seat while Chuck drove. It was much easier on both of us when I was behind the wheel. So after we checked out of our motel each morning I would start out driving. At the various rest stops, gas stations and restaurants we would walk around a bit, stretch and then head back to the car. Chuck would invariably ask if I wanted him to drive the next leg. I, most often, would demur. And so it went, mile after mile after mile. Chuck did drive every day. But that meant we had two drivers - only I did not have a gas pedal, brake pedal or steering wheel. Which, as far as I was concerned, put me at a distinct disadvantage!
In addition to the OCD/control freak issues I was also in denial. I knew I was a good driver. I knew I was a dreadful passenger. I knew I might drive my husband crazy if I chose to sit in the passenger seat for too many miles. But I had convinced myself that we were splitting the driving dead even, 50-50, completely egalitarian. That is until the third night on the road.
We had left Yellowstone and headed for Cody, Wyoming. That was where my wristwatch alarm went off and I began looking for a payphone. While I was checking in with my Mom, Chuck went across the street to a place we’re pretty sure was called Taco John’s to get us some dinner. He got us a couple of amazingly tasty burritos to go and we ate them in the car, on the main drag in Cody. Fed, we continued on our way. At some point we decided to aim for Sheridan, Wyoming as the place we would sleep that night. As the night drew in around us, we chose to continue along Route 14. On our paper map we saw that the road looked twisty, but we couldn’t see the elevation. It turned out to be crazy steep and full of sharp twists and turns.
No surprise, I was at the wheel. It was a tough drive, in total darkness, on a two lane road which we were of course completely unfamiliar with. Let’s just say there were white knuckles on both sides of the vehicle. After what felt like forever, we reached the highest point of the road. There was a wide, dirt pull off area and I eased the car over. I shut off the engine as we took deep breaths and collected ourselves. It was then we noticed that in the now pitch darkness the sky was filled with stars. We stepped out of the car and stood, awed by the enormous beauty. Out of the stillness we were startled by a rustling nearby. My adrenaline rushed back. More sounds - we were not alone. Then we heard a lowing. There were cows around us also taking in the night air - although not with the fast gulps I was! We laughed with surprise, relief and wonder. As we got back in the car, there wasn’t a peep out of me when Chuck headed for the driver’s side.
I’m convinced Chuck had the tougher leg on that winding road. He had to ride the brake, but not too hard or for too long. Perhaps halfway down, we came upon a school bus and a couple of cars on the side of the road. It looked as if the brakes on the bus had overheated because we could see a combination of dust and smoke in the headlights of the attending cars. Chuck soldiered on the rest of the way down the mountain and into Sheridan. We found a motel. We got the last available room - apparently there was a rodeo in town.
When we opened the door to the room, I flopped down on the bed. My entire body was vibrating from the feeling of wheels on the road and automobile engine rumbling. Chuck hustled about, unloading the car, getting us some ice from the machine down the hall and generally settling us in for a very brief night’s stay. I couldn’t move. I asked Chuck where he was getting all the energy, when I was so exhausted. He said he had only driven that last leg. I protested, insisting we had divided the driving equally all day. Chuck patiently reminded me I had driven all the way from Yellowstone, except for the downslope of the mountain, after the cows. And that the two previous days I had driven well more than half.
I was busted. I knew Chuck was right. For the next five days I still drove a lot. But I had the good sense to turn the wheel over to Chuck more often. Late in the evenings, when we stopped for the night, I would still be tired, but not nearly as close to trembling. And now I would tease Chuck, saying I couldn’t imagine why I felt tired, because I “only drove halfway”!
Twelve years later, we spell each other on long trips. Now I really do “only drive halfway”.
Well, at least in my mind it’s halfway - - - right Honey?
In addition to the OCD/control freak issues I was also in denial. I knew I was a good driver. I knew I was a dreadful passenger. I knew I might drive my husband crazy if I chose to sit in the passenger seat for too many miles. But I had convinced myself that we were splitting the driving dead even, 50-50, completely egalitarian. That is until the third night on the road.
We had left Yellowstone and headed for Cody, Wyoming. That was where my wristwatch alarm went off and I began looking for a payphone. While I was checking in with my Mom, Chuck went across the street to a place we’re pretty sure was called Taco John’s to get us some dinner. He got us a couple of amazingly tasty burritos to go and we ate them in the car, on the main drag in Cody. Fed, we continued on our way. At some point we decided to aim for Sheridan, Wyoming as the place we would sleep that night. As the night drew in around us, we chose to continue along Route 14. On our paper map we saw that the road looked twisty, but we couldn’t see the elevation. It turned out to be crazy steep and full of sharp twists and turns.
No surprise, I was at the wheel. It was a tough drive, in total darkness, on a two lane road which we were of course completely unfamiliar with. Let’s just say there were white knuckles on both sides of the vehicle. After what felt like forever, we reached the highest point of the road. There was a wide, dirt pull off area and I eased the car over. I shut off the engine as we took deep breaths and collected ourselves. It was then we noticed that in the now pitch darkness the sky was filled with stars. We stepped out of the car and stood, awed by the enormous beauty. Out of the stillness we were startled by a rustling nearby. My adrenaline rushed back. More sounds - we were not alone. Then we heard a lowing. There were cows around us also taking in the night air - although not with the fast gulps I was! We laughed with surprise, relief and wonder. As we got back in the car, there wasn’t a peep out of me when Chuck headed for the driver’s side.
I’m convinced Chuck had the tougher leg on that winding road. He had to ride the brake, but not too hard or for too long. Perhaps halfway down, we came upon a school bus and a couple of cars on the side of the road. It looked as if the brakes on the bus had overheated because we could see a combination of dust and smoke in the headlights of the attending cars. Chuck soldiered on the rest of the way down the mountain and into Sheridan. We found a motel. We got the last available room - apparently there was a rodeo in town.
When we opened the door to the room, I flopped down on the bed. My entire body was vibrating from the feeling of wheels on the road and automobile engine rumbling. Chuck hustled about, unloading the car, getting us some ice from the machine down the hall and generally settling us in for a very brief night’s stay. I couldn’t move. I asked Chuck where he was getting all the energy, when I was so exhausted. He said he had only driven that last leg. I protested, insisting we had divided the driving equally all day. Chuck patiently reminded me I had driven all the way from Yellowstone, except for the downslope of the mountain, after the cows. And that the two previous days I had driven well more than half.
I was busted. I knew Chuck was right. For the next five days I still drove a lot. But I had the good sense to turn the wheel over to Chuck more often. Late in the evenings, when we stopped for the night, I would still be tired, but not nearly as close to trembling. And now I would tease Chuck, saying I couldn’t imagine why I felt tired, because I “only drove halfway”!
Twelve years later, we spell each other on long trips. Now I really do “only drive halfway”.
Well, at least in my mind it’s halfway - - - right Honey?
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Trip & A Song
Back in 1998 Chuck and I had the occasion to drive cross country from Washington to Massachusetts. It wasn’t a vacation. It was a trip. I don’t mean a hippy-dippy trip. I mean it was basically a means to an end. Chuck’s parents had generously offered us their car; ours being on its last leg - er- wheel. All we needed to do was to fly out to Seattle and drive it back home. I won’t say we were poor, but money was very tight and we were frugal. So even though Chuck had only a limited amount of vacation time available, we went for a quick visit with the family and then loaded up the new-to-us car and headed back home.
Most days we just got up and drove, from early morning to sometimes late into the evening. We made brief stops for fuel - both for the automobile and the humans. We had no reservations, so each afternoon we would begin looking in the AAA guide books for a place to stay, somewhere up the road. It was a long trip - according to Google Maps some 3,316 miles (5,336 kilometers). We did squeeze in three fun things: Yellowstone National Park (which is mostly in Wyoming), Mount Rushmore in South Dakota and Lehman’s Hardware Store in Kidron, Ohio. All of which were done at something just shy of a dead run; all the while we kept promising ourselves we would come back, some day. Most importantly, while we were in Ohio, we visited with Chuck’s beloved Aunt Frieda. She was seriously ill and passed just one month later.
Cell phones existed back then. We actually owned an enormous “bag phone”. But because of roaming charges we didn’t even consider bringing it with us. What we did do was to set the alarm on my wristwatch to 8:00 p.m. Eastern time. Every day that we were on the road, the alarm would go off and we would look for a phone booth. Then I would call home to my Mom in Rhode Island to let her know where we were and that we were fine.
The radio was our constant companion. NPR’s Morning Edition and All Things Considered bookended our daylight hours. Delilah filled our evening hours. And whoever wasn’t driving was in charge of tuning something enjoyable in on the radio as the miles clicked by on the odometer. Often, what we found clear as a bell was country music - classic, contemporary and a blend of country/rock/pop. We heard one song over and over again. It was “26 Cents” by The Wilkinsons (Music plays!), a Canadian family trio of a sister, a brother and their dad. It told the story of young woman on her own, who treasured a letter from her Mom with 26 cents taped to it. The song went:
“...When you get lonely, call me
Anytime at all and I'll be there with you, always
Anywhere at all...
...Here's a penny for your thoughts
A quarter for the call
And all of your Momma's love...”
It just fit, you know?
Most days we just got up and drove, from early morning to sometimes late into the evening. We made brief stops for fuel - both for the automobile and the humans. We had no reservations, so each afternoon we would begin looking in the AAA guide books for a place to stay, somewhere up the road. It was a long trip - according to Google Maps some 3,316 miles (5,336 kilometers). We did squeeze in three fun things: Yellowstone National Park (which is mostly in Wyoming), Mount Rushmore in South Dakota and Lehman’s Hardware Store in Kidron, Ohio. All of which were done at something just shy of a dead run; all the while we kept promising ourselves we would come back, some day. Most importantly, while we were in Ohio, we visited with Chuck’s beloved Aunt Frieda. She was seriously ill and passed just one month later.
Cell phones existed back then. We actually owned an enormous “bag phone”. But because of roaming charges we didn’t even consider bringing it with us. What we did do was to set the alarm on my wristwatch to 8:00 p.m. Eastern time. Every day that we were on the road, the alarm would go off and we would look for a phone booth. Then I would call home to my Mom in Rhode Island to let her know where we were and that we were fine.
The radio was our constant companion. NPR’s Morning Edition and All Things Considered bookended our daylight hours. Delilah filled our evening hours. And whoever wasn’t driving was in charge of tuning something enjoyable in on the radio as the miles clicked by on the odometer. Often, what we found clear as a bell was country music - classic, contemporary and a blend of country/rock/pop. We heard one song over and over again. It was “26 Cents” by The Wilkinsons (Music plays!), a Canadian family trio of a sister, a brother and their dad. It told the story of young woman on her own, who treasured a letter from her Mom with 26 cents taped to it. The song went:
“...When you get lonely, call me
Anytime at all and I'll be there with you, always
Anywhere at all...
...Here's a penny for your thoughts
A quarter for the call
And all of your Momma's love...”
It just fit, you know?
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Unhappy Hipsters
A few days ago Morgan pointed me to a clever and witty website. They take photos from Dwell magazine and caption them. It’s called Unhappy Hipsters. In some ways it is the uber-modern, angst-ridden, minimalist, home decorating equivalent of Awkward Family Photos.
I had you at angst-ridden, didn’t I?
;o)
I had you at angst-ridden, didn’t I?
;o)
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