Sunday, December 31, 2006
Happy New Year's Eve At home, dial-up connection so this is funky. Lake froze over on Friday, late this year but now we are at least into winter. I've been home for 2 days now, the farthest from the house I've been is to the end of the driveway, walking Ken to his truck this noon. He came to visit because he wanted to see another person. Tonight I'll celebrate New Years Eve by visiting him at 5 or so and having a drink, then I'll come home, watch TV and knit until around 11, then bed. I love this life style--early to bed, early to rise, relaxing day. I have a short list of easy tasks (burn trash, vacuum, put up suet feeder, rehang mirror, etc.). Dogs are peaceful and the most demanding things they want from me are to be let out, let in, out again, etc. Constantly all day long but at least it gets me off the couch about 15 times a day. We had snow yesterday, Ken says 5-6 inches but I'm not sure it was that much. It was 12 last night when I went to bed but in the 20's and sunny today so the house was warm. Next tasks: clean fish tank and put new tablecloth on dinner table. Yawn. Or nap. hmmmm. Happy 2007, all.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Ebb and flow
As my sister noticed over the weekend, I am better now. More stable, less hysterical. Change in meds will do that, sometimes more quickly than other times. I'm back in the saddle.
I am in control of Christmas. I can't believe I have all my shopping done, except for the 2 bottles I have to get for my clerks, and I'll get those tonight on my way home. I have to return 4 t-shirts, 2 each to Old Navy and the Gap--wrong size (2) and wrong weight (2). Found the perfect ones last night. Mark needs heavy white shirts to wear under the shirts he has to wear to work and I think I've found the right size and weight. Let's hope.
I've sent a gift basket to my aunt & uncle. I mailed the presents to Italy a day before the last day you can guarantee they'll get there by the 24th. Today I'll mail the presents (not good ones, but presents nevertheless) to my cousins in Vermont. When can we stop exchanging gifts? Probably never--what to get children you don't know, year after year? And long ago I ran out of ideas for their parents. I even have most of the stocking stuffers for Liza and Mark. Yikes, what's up with me this year? I ordered and received new tags for my dogs that have my name and address on one side and Liza's name and address on the other. I don't like them, they're cheap, thin metal but they'll do for now.
I finally made it to the dump this morning ("How many stickers, hon?") after many weeks of procrastination. Up at 6, even though I didn't need to be at work until 9. Why do I wake up so early on days I work 9-5 yet can't drag myself out of bed when I have to be here at 8? Anyway, got my fridge cleaned out, stoked the fire, wrapped work presents, dumped the mouse trap (YES! Trapline continues to be successful. Mouse #7, or maybe 8, can't remember, met his --yes, this one was a boy--demise last night. This after someone licked peanut butter off traps without tripping them for 2 nights running, really getting me in a killing mood), played with Tess (and Hedgehog and Pony) for a long time (actually got her to semi-retrieve for the first time ever). Man was I exhausted when I left at 7:20.
On Friday I weeded in Rouses Point. Made it through the 600's--medicine, cookery, interpersonal relations. A few years ago she had this mousy, unattractive man donate the book How to succeed with women ("Obviously the book didn't work for him"). She decided to add it to her collection and has sent it to almost every correctional facility in the region to fill ILL requests since she got the book. We laughed about that and I recommended she keep the book, since no one else in the region owns it. Blech.
I had a strange idea when I finished weeding that I would go across the border to Canada to the duty-free store and buy a bunch of alcohol for my visit to RI. Some for presents, some for our after-dinners. It's cheaper there, you get a discount with the exchange rate, and you don't have to pay sales tax. I thought it would be simple. Canada is only about 15 minutes from Rouses Point. I had a 40 pound bag of dog food in the back seat, purchased at Petsmart a couple of days before. Thought about putting it in the trunk but figured it wouldn't be an issue. WRONG. Don't try to take dog food into Canada.
Customs agent: "What's the purpose of your visit?
Me: Christmas shopping at the Duty Free.
C.A.: "What's in that green bag?"
Me: Dog food.
C.A.: "What flavor?"
Me: I don't know what you mean.
C.A: "WHAT FLAVOR?"
Me: Iams.
C.A. "Yes, but WHAT FLAVOR?"
Me: Regular.
C.A. (more than a little exasperated, knowing the problem is not her accent): "Beef, lamb, chicken...?"
Me: OH!!! I don't really know.
C.A.: "Any meat by-products? You cannot bring meat products into Canada."
Me: Oh I'm sure there's no meat in it (as if).
C.A.: "I'm going to give you a yellow slip. Pull into the parking area and go into the first door. The man there will inspect your dog food to see if you can take it into the country."
Me (silently) ohmigod. These people are nuts.
Man from door: "I'm here to inspect your dog food."
Me: Yes I know--there it is.
Man: "Is the car running?"
Me: no, the lights are just on--here are the keys. (Silently--what difference does it make if the car is running?)
Man spends long time reading ingredients on bag.
Man: "It's ok. What's in those two white boxes?"
Boxes have date due cards and pockets I'm giving away to member libraries.
Me: Library cards--feel free to look (RATS! My only opportunity to say "You'll need a warrant to find out").
Man checks boxes.
Man: "You work in a library?"
Me: (silently, DUH) Yes.
Man gives me a slip of paper like a store receipt with a number stamped on it, tells me to punch those numbers on the number pad ahead and the gate will rise so I can enter the country.
But wait a minute people--the sole purpose of my visit to your country is to spend a lot of money. You should be welcoming me with open arms and an open cash register drawer!
So I buy my booze, and plenty of it.
Wait in line to get back to my own country, where I'm sure I'll be welcomed home with great enthusiasm, THEY'LL be happy to see me. I wait in line for about half an hour. Turns out they search the trunk of each car with Canadian plates and ask the drivers and passengers lots and lots of questions. And there are a whole lot of Canadians going Christmas shopping in Plattsburgh on a Friday night. It's finally my turn.
Customs Agent: "Where do you live?"
Me, knowing that Hawkeye is not an acceptable answer, AuSable Forks.
C.A.: "Do you have some identification?"
I'm way ahead on this, hand over my license. They've just passed a law requiring passports at the border, as of 2007 or 8, I forget which.
C.A.: "What was the purpose of your visit?"
Me: I bought $127 worth of liquor at the Duty Free.
C.A.: "How many bottles was that?"
Me: I have no idea but here's the receipt.
C.A.: "You have the receipt? May I see it please?" Takes receipt. Studies it for a very, very long time. Why? Wants to know what I drink? Is taking a survey of America drinking habits? C.A.: "Are these Christmas presents?"
Me (too embarrassed to admit how much of the liquor will be consumed and how little will actually be gifted) Yes sir.
C.A.: "Go ahead."
Moral of story: there are at least two--
--Don't take dog food or anything resembling or containing meat products into Canada. Good to know
--If you get stopped in Canada the Customs Inspectors are very nice men. Customs Agents, not so much
--The Duty-Free store still has some good liquor prices but doesn't sell little bottles appropriate for work gifts
--American Customs Agents are ball-busters and some of them try to look cool by not shaving
As my sister noticed over the weekend, I am better now. More stable, less hysterical. Change in meds will do that, sometimes more quickly than other times. I'm back in the saddle.
I am in control of Christmas. I can't believe I have all my shopping done, except for the 2 bottles I have to get for my clerks, and I'll get those tonight on my way home. I have to return 4 t-shirts, 2 each to Old Navy and the Gap--wrong size (2) and wrong weight (2). Found the perfect ones last night. Mark needs heavy white shirts to wear under the shirts he has to wear to work and I think I've found the right size and weight. Let's hope.
I've sent a gift basket to my aunt & uncle. I mailed the presents to Italy a day before the last day you can guarantee they'll get there by the 24th. Today I'll mail the presents (not good ones, but presents nevertheless) to my cousins in Vermont. When can we stop exchanging gifts? Probably never--what to get children you don't know, year after year? And long ago I ran out of ideas for their parents. I even have most of the stocking stuffers for Liza and Mark. Yikes, what's up with me this year? I ordered and received new tags for my dogs that have my name and address on one side and Liza's name and address on the other. I don't like them, they're cheap, thin metal but they'll do for now.
I finally made it to the dump this morning ("How many stickers, hon?") after many weeks of procrastination. Up at 6, even though I didn't need to be at work until 9. Why do I wake up so early on days I work 9-5 yet can't drag myself out of bed when I have to be here at 8? Anyway, got my fridge cleaned out, stoked the fire, wrapped work presents, dumped the mouse trap (YES! Trapline continues to be successful. Mouse #7, or maybe 8, can't remember, met his --yes, this one was a boy--demise last night. This after someone licked peanut butter off traps without tripping them for 2 nights running, really getting me in a killing mood), played with Tess (and Hedgehog and Pony) for a long time (actually got her to semi-retrieve for the first time ever). Man was I exhausted when I left at 7:20.
On Friday I weeded in Rouses Point. Made it through the 600's--medicine, cookery, interpersonal relations. A few years ago she had this mousy, unattractive man donate the book How to succeed with women ("Obviously the book didn't work for him"). She decided to add it to her collection and has sent it to almost every correctional facility in the region to fill ILL requests since she got the book. We laughed about that and I recommended she keep the book, since no one else in the region owns it. Blech.
I had a strange idea when I finished weeding that I would go across the border to Canada to the duty-free store and buy a bunch of alcohol for my visit to RI. Some for presents, some for our after-dinners. It's cheaper there, you get a discount with the exchange rate, and you don't have to pay sales tax. I thought it would be simple. Canada is only about 15 minutes from Rouses Point. I had a 40 pound bag of dog food in the back seat, purchased at Petsmart a couple of days before. Thought about putting it in the trunk but figured it wouldn't be an issue. WRONG. Don't try to take dog food into Canada.
Customs agent: "What's the purpose of your visit?
Me: Christmas shopping at the Duty Free.
C.A.: "What's in that green bag?"
Me: Dog food.
C.A.: "What flavor?"
Me: I don't know what you mean.
C.A: "WHAT FLAVOR?"
Me: Iams.
C.A. "Yes, but WHAT FLAVOR?"
Me: Regular.
C.A. (more than a little exasperated, knowing the problem is not her accent): "Beef, lamb, chicken...?"
Me: OH!!! I don't really know.
C.A.: "Any meat by-products? You cannot bring meat products into Canada."
Me: Oh I'm sure there's no meat in it (as if).
C.A.: "I'm going to give you a yellow slip. Pull into the parking area and go into the first door. The man there will inspect your dog food to see if you can take it into the country."
Me (silently) ohmigod. These people are nuts.
Man from door: "I'm here to inspect your dog food."
Me: Yes I know--there it is.
Man: "Is the car running?"
Me: no, the lights are just on--here are the keys. (Silently--what difference does it make if the car is running?)
Man spends long time reading ingredients on bag.
Man: "It's ok. What's in those two white boxes?"
Boxes have date due cards and pockets I'm giving away to member libraries.
Me: Library cards--feel free to look (RATS! My only opportunity to say "You'll need a warrant to find out").
Man checks boxes.
Man: "You work in a library?"
Me: (silently, DUH) Yes.
Man gives me a slip of paper like a store receipt with a number stamped on it, tells me to punch those numbers on the number pad ahead and the gate will rise so I can enter the country.
But wait a minute people--the sole purpose of my visit to your country is to spend a lot of money. You should be welcoming me with open arms and an open cash register drawer!
So I buy my booze, and plenty of it.
Wait in line to get back to my own country, where I'm sure I'll be welcomed home with great enthusiasm, THEY'LL be happy to see me. I wait in line for about half an hour. Turns out they search the trunk of each car with Canadian plates and ask the drivers and passengers lots and lots of questions. And there are a whole lot of Canadians going Christmas shopping in Plattsburgh on a Friday night. It's finally my turn.
Customs Agent: "Where do you live?"
Me, knowing that Hawkeye is not an acceptable answer, AuSable Forks.
C.A.: "Do you have some identification?"
I'm way ahead on this, hand over my license. They've just passed a law requiring passports at the border, as of 2007 or 8, I forget which.
C.A.: "What was the purpose of your visit?"
Me: I bought $127 worth of liquor at the Duty Free.
C.A.: "How many bottles was that?"
Me: I have no idea but here's the receipt.
C.A.: "You have the receipt? May I see it please?" Takes receipt. Studies it for a very, very long time. Why? Wants to know what I drink? Is taking a survey of America drinking habits? C.A.: "Are these Christmas presents?"
Me (too embarrassed to admit how much of the liquor will be consumed and how little will actually be gifted) Yes sir.
C.A.: "Go ahead."
Moral of story: there are at least two--
--Don't take dog food or anything resembling or containing meat products into Canada. Good to know
--If you get stopped in Canada the Customs Inspectors are very nice men. Customs Agents, not so much
--The Duty-Free store still has some good liquor prices but doesn't sell little bottles appropriate for work gifts
--American Customs Agents are ball-busters and some of them try to look cool by not shaving
Monday, December 18, 2006
S'no geese
This is a flock of snow geese I saw in a field on my way to the Rouses Point library on Friday afternoon. Sometimes I see huge flocks of them in flight--they always fly over the Champlain Valley on their way south from the tundra. This is one of the biggest flocks I've seen, but one year I saw snow geese stretching from horizon to horizon in the sky. Anyway, these were amazing and beautiful. When I drove by the field after weeding in the library, 3 hours later, there wasn't a goose left in the field. I felt really lucky to have seen them.
Close up
This is a shot taken a little closer that shows how they look when they land--just a few of them are landing. They are so, so pretty.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Hi Frosty! What's up?
This is what Inflatable Frosty looks like. Sometimes he's clutching the candy cane in his other hand/paw but he's always really cheery. Hard to argue with a smile like that, huh. He always seems to be surrounded by a ring of candy canes that light up. Don't know if they come with him or there's some significance to that. Well, hey Frosty, y'all have a great day!
Good crop of canes
This is Halloween House, now Christmas House, during the day. When I stopped to take the picture they turned on the lighted creche and all the other stuff--candy canes, Santa, Frosty, twirly trees--you name it. I'm not sure what's up with Rudolph, he seems to like Santa an awful lot. The next thing we know he'll be humping Santa's leg.
Get off my lawn!
David Letterman used to have a catch phrase where he'd yell in an old man voice "Hey you kids, get off my lawn!" that's what this scene reminds me of. This is the other side of Christmas House.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
"Death is so final"
That's what Ken says, anyway. I got really fed up with his moaning and groaning last night. I got tired of everyone's complaining last night. I had brain rant this morning--luckily it took place in my car while I was alone and I've settled down considerably. Maybe. Ken has said before that, if he had his life to life over again he would not do it. His 2-year old son died 70 years ago, the victim of a home accident (burned by boiling water). Of course Ken has never recovered from this loss, but he has 2 sons and has enjoyed the pleasure of being a father for the past 61 years. Last night I'd had it and I ranted to him "How would you like never having had the joy of experiencing parenthood at all? Of never being able to have a child? Of not being able to be a parent?" Then I started to cry. Needless to say that shut him up. These moments of stabbing pain at the reminder of my infertility strike me at different times, and I suppose it's not unlike the misery of losing a child--always there, always a pain that doesn't go away. Anway, when people complaing about anything that has to do with children I just want to scream at them that at least they HAVE a child to complain about.
Right now I'm feeling that there are a lot of people suffering from terrible things and I'm living a life of good fortune--heck, I'm being allowed to live. My good friend's father was told a year ago that he had a year to live, suffering from lung cancer. Another friend's husband is suffering from ALS, has lost 50 pounds since August and can no longer comb his own hair, cannot lift his arms or hold a cup of coffee. A childhood friend died of colon cancer. A good friend's mother has Alzheimer's and doesn't recognize her daughter most of the time. My cousin has uterine cancer and it seems as though she may die from it. So is there anything I really have to complain about? I don't have enough money to buy all the Christmas presents I want to? My dog chewed the seatbelts in my car? My pants are too tight? Give me a break.
I'm trying really hard in my life not to sound like my father, who loved to dwell on what was wrong--with other people, with circumstances, with politics. I just edited an email to a friend because each sentence contained a negative thought. I could change everything to sound positive, it wasn't that hard. This is how I want to live my life, focusing on what's good, on what I have. I have a lot, I'm very lucky. Yes, I've worked hard to have what I have, but there's a lot that's mine by chance, by luck I guess. No, I don't believe in god, I don't belive I have a purpose in life and I'm not going to teach in an inner city school or go to Africa to teach them how to make it rain. I'm just going to live my life and enjoy it. And pet my dogs. And laugh to myself when North Country people say things like "That does me fine." Isn't that enough?
That's what Ken says, anyway. I got really fed up with his moaning and groaning last night. I got tired of everyone's complaining last night. I had brain rant this morning--luckily it took place in my car while I was alone and I've settled down considerably. Maybe. Ken has said before that, if he had his life to life over again he would not do it. His 2-year old son died 70 years ago, the victim of a home accident (burned by boiling water). Of course Ken has never recovered from this loss, but he has 2 sons and has enjoyed the pleasure of being a father for the past 61 years. Last night I'd had it and I ranted to him "How would you like never having had the joy of experiencing parenthood at all? Of never being able to have a child? Of not being able to be a parent?" Then I started to cry. Needless to say that shut him up. These moments of stabbing pain at the reminder of my infertility strike me at different times, and I suppose it's not unlike the misery of losing a child--always there, always a pain that doesn't go away. Anway, when people complaing about anything that has to do with children I just want to scream at them that at least they HAVE a child to complain about.
Right now I'm feeling that there are a lot of people suffering from terrible things and I'm living a life of good fortune--heck, I'm being allowed to live. My good friend's father was told a year ago that he had a year to live, suffering from lung cancer. Another friend's husband is suffering from ALS, has lost 50 pounds since August and can no longer comb his own hair, cannot lift his arms or hold a cup of coffee. A childhood friend died of colon cancer. A good friend's mother has Alzheimer's and doesn't recognize her daughter most of the time. My cousin has uterine cancer and it seems as though she may die from it. So is there anything I really have to complain about? I don't have enough money to buy all the Christmas presents I want to? My dog chewed the seatbelts in my car? My pants are too tight? Give me a break.
I'm trying really hard in my life not to sound like my father, who loved to dwell on what was wrong--with other people, with circumstances, with politics. I just edited an email to a friend because each sentence contained a negative thought. I could change everything to sound positive, it wasn't that hard. This is how I want to live my life, focusing on what's good, on what I have. I have a lot, I'm very lucky. Yes, I've worked hard to have what I have, but there's a lot that's mine by chance, by luck I guess. No, I don't believe in god, I don't belive I have a purpose in life and I'm not going to teach in an inner city school or go to Africa to teach them how to make it rain. I'm just going to live my life and enjoy it. And pet my dogs. And laugh to myself when North Country people say things like "That does me fine." Isn't that enough?
Purple collar
Not to be outdone by Chances, Tess decide to pose. The only way you can tell this is NOT Chances is to catch a glimpse of the purple collar. Tess is even growing a gray beard.
Marble eyes
I know, this looks just like Chances, but who replaced my dog's eyes with green marbles?
In memoriam
I wish they'd tell me when they're about to die. This is (was) my sunburst platy, who was a great, perky and pretty fish. When I got home yesterday Orange Fish was at the bottom of the tank, belly up. Had been swimming like Mark Spitz in the morning. Honestly, you can't trust anything with fins.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Life is different
I had a really nice birthday. Pretty much just what I wanted. Enough attention but not too much. Nice lunch with Barb, just the right number of presents. I was going to stop at Ken's for a little birthday cheer. His outside light was on so I got all cheerful, figuring he'd left it on for me, expecting my visit. No, he'd gone to dinner next door at his niece's and his door was locked. I got in my car and cried and cried. Why? I couldn't figure it out--it wasn't because I was desperate to see Ken, I'd been thinking all day that I wasn't even going to stop, but felt obligated to because he'd expect me to. Still I couldn't stop crying. Sad to spend my birthday night alone? No, that was what I wanted. Finally figured it out: I miss my brother. I miss him so much. I always heard his voice on my birthday, and usually he always me flowers. He offered such sweetness on the day, hearing from my siblings is so wonderful. When I got home there were two messages on my answering machine, the light was blinking. That set me off, more intense crying. There was no message from my brother. I wanted so much to hear his voice.
One of the messages was from my sister, which cheered me a whole lot. Thank goodness for sisters. We have each other (Jon Bon Jovi says that's a lot, he's right, of course--amazing that anyone that good looking could be right, huh). So I perked up and really enjoyed my evening. I had stopped at Petsmart and made tags for my dogs with my mother's address and phone number on them, in anticipation of a repeat of Chances' escape at Thanksgiving. I put those on their collars and now they jingle. Although I usually hate that, it's a pretty cheerful sound, really. Tess is wearing two tags, one with her home address and one with her "away" address. Chances' other tag fell off and Tess chewed it so she's only got one now. These are cheap metal (not cheap cheap, they cost $6.50) and won't last so I've ordered the good kind that have addresses on both sides, just to confuse the bog walkers who find Tess.
Today I will try to leave early to run some errands--the kind you can do without any money. Tonight is dinner with Ken. Hamburgers and frozen fries. Weds. is never a low-cal night but there's nothing I can do about that.
I had a really nice birthday. Pretty much just what I wanted. Enough attention but not too much. Nice lunch with Barb, just the right number of presents. I was going to stop at Ken's for a little birthday cheer. His outside light was on so I got all cheerful, figuring he'd left it on for me, expecting my visit. No, he'd gone to dinner next door at his niece's and his door was locked. I got in my car and cried and cried. Why? I couldn't figure it out--it wasn't because I was desperate to see Ken, I'd been thinking all day that I wasn't even going to stop, but felt obligated to because he'd expect me to. Still I couldn't stop crying. Sad to spend my birthday night alone? No, that was what I wanted. Finally figured it out: I miss my brother. I miss him so much. I always heard his voice on my birthday, and usually he always me flowers. He offered such sweetness on the day, hearing from my siblings is so wonderful. When I got home there were two messages on my answering machine, the light was blinking. That set me off, more intense crying. There was no message from my brother. I wanted so much to hear his voice.
One of the messages was from my sister, which cheered me a whole lot. Thank goodness for sisters. We have each other (Jon Bon Jovi says that's a lot, he's right, of course--amazing that anyone that good looking could be right, huh). So I perked up and really enjoyed my evening. I had stopped at Petsmart and made tags for my dogs with my mother's address and phone number on them, in anticipation of a repeat of Chances' escape at Thanksgiving. I put those on their collars and now they jingle. Although I usually hate that, it's a pretty cheerful sound, really. Tess is wearing two tags, one with her home address and one with her "away" address. Chances' other tag fell off and Tess chewed it so she's only got one now. These are cheap metal (not cheap cheap, they cost $6.50) and won't last so I've ordered the good kind that have addresses on both sides, just to confuse the bog walkers who find Tess.
Today I will try to leave early to run some errands--the kind you can do without any money. Tonight is dinner with Ken. Hamburgers and frozen fries. Weds. is never a low-cal night but there's nothing I can do about that.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
12/12/52
That's when it all started. I'm an official baby boomer. We had a discussion about who gets to be called a baby boomer not long ago, and Bill and I agreed that he may be one (have to be born in 1945--the first year after WWII ended, by one definition) and I'm pretty much certainly one. One definition says that if you can remember Kennedy's being shot you are a baby boomer. I certainly remember that--I was in 6th grade. Most of the kids in my class clapped and cheered because they hated any Democrat. I was confused but knew Democrats were good and Republicans were bad. We had a great deal of solemnity at my house and watched the entire funeral activity stuff, John-John saluting, horse with backward boots, Jackie with tear-swollen eyes behind the veil. Later I remember watching Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald on a Saturday morning while sitting in front of our TV (the big console kind, it was a piece of furniture we got in 1957) all alone in the basement. I was truly puzzled by that--was it a good thing? Why did he do it? Who was Jack Ruby? What did it mean?
Any way, baby boomers. The woman who's been dubbed The First Baby Boomer celebrated her 60th birthday this year. If she's truly the first, then Bill is not one, since he's 61. I always felt more that my brother and sister were fer shure baby boomers, being just enough older than I am to truly be a part of the whole movement. Now, though, witnessing the next generation and hearing them talk about their priorities and what they think they're entitled to, I can see that I am most definitely a baby boomer. Different set of values all together. Different sense of entitlement, different work ethic in many ways, though there are exceptions of course. I don't feel I'm entitled to much, and what I want I think I should earn. I should have a job, and I should support myself. I shouldn't live with my parents when I graduate from college or become an adult and I shouldn't be dependent on them. I should value the things I have and take care of them (OK, I have problems with this one, and feel guilty when I don't take care of things)--things are not always dispensable. I shouldn't expect to have everything I want at the moment I want it because sometimes I just can't afford it. Owing money is not a good thing, credit cards can make your life very unpleasant. Immediate gratification, I'm afraid, started with baby boomers and has become the mainstay of the next generation. I do believe in "if it feels good, do it," in the spiritual sense, not the fiscal sense. Mostly I believe in being responsible, it's what I'm supposed to do with my life.
So now I'm 54 years old, and self-sufficient. I have a house and 13 acres of land in the one place I've always wanted to live. I have a career I'm very pleased with. I went to college in 4 years straight (the only member of my family to do so) and graduated from the same place I started (the only member of my family to do so). I went to graduate school. I've been a librarian for 29 years and have never regretted choosing this as my career. I seem to enjoy it more each year, as new things come along. Thank goodness for the Internet, really thank goodness for the Internet.
I'm embarrassed that I get phone calls and cards on my birthday from people whose birthdays I neglect to pay attention to. This happens every year and I promise myself I'll change it next year. Today I'm having lunch and exchanging presents with my most excellent friend Barb--do we really have best friends? If so I guess she's it for me. But I didn't call her on her birthday, the 2nd, and I feel bad about that. She and I don't like having birthdays anymore. She's 10 years younger than I am, which she enjoys being.
I am 50 years older than: my dog Tess, my friend Julie's son Edward (Julie waited to have her cesarean until my birthday so that would be true) and my friend Karen's grandson Jacob.
We have a new option at work of NOT having cake with an uncomfortable gathering in the afternoon when everyone sits around pretending to enjoy being together to celebrate someone's birthday. That's what I chose. Hooray for me! Wait until everyone finds out--they won't like it that I don't have to be the center of attention at such a gathering. It's a new tradition and they're not aware of it yet.
I got a free cup of coffee for my birthday at my coffee place. Barb the Coffee Lady wrote on my coffee club card that today is my birthday in case she wasn't working so that anyone who was working would know to give me a free cup. That's how my day started. But then I got sleepy and pulled over to take a nap and was late to work. And now I have to catalog portable DVD players we got a grant to purchase, which will go to hospitals to be bolted to tables in waiting rooms for people to watch DVDs while they wait for their loved ones to be operated on. We get all sorts of grants to improve services for other agencies, but never for us. No one wants to give us money to put gas in the bookmobile.
Oh yeah, baby boomers complain too.
That's when it all started. I'm an official baby boomer. We had a discussion about who gets to be called a baby boomer not long ago, and Bill and I agreed that he may be one (have to be born in 1945--the first year after WWII ended, by one definition) and I'm pretty much certainly one. One definition says that if you can remember Kennedy's being shot you are a baby boomer. I certainly remember that--I was in 6th grade. Most of the kids in my class clapped and cheered because they hated any Democrat. I was confused but knew Democrats were good and Republicans were bad. We had a great deal of solemnity at my house and watched the entire funeral activity stuff, John-John saluting, horse with backward boots, Jackie with tear-swollen eyes behind the veil. Later I remember watching Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald on a Saturday morning while sitting in front of our TV (the big console kind, it was a piece of furniture we got in 1957) all alone in the basement. I was truly puzzled by that--was it a good thing? Why did he do it? Who was Jack Ruby? What did it mean?
Any way, baby boomers. The woman who's been dubbed The First Baby Boomer celebrated her 60th birthday this year. If she's truly the first, then Bill is not one, since he's 61. I always felt more that my brother and sister were fer shure baby boomers, being just enough older than I am to truly be a part of the whole movement. Now, though, witnessing the next generation and hearing them talk about their priorities and what they think they're entitled to, I can see that I am most definitely a baby boomer. Different set of values all together. Different sense of entitlement, different work ethic in many ways, though there are exceptions of course. I don't feel I'm entitled to much, and what I want I think I should earn. I should have a job, and I should support myself. I shouldn't live with my parents when I graduate from college or become an adult and I shouldn't be dependent on them. I should value the things I have and take care of them (OK, I have problems with this one, and feel guilty when I don't take care of things)--things are not always dispensable. I shouldn't expect to have everything I want at the moment I want it because sometimes I just can't afford it. Owing money is not a good thing, credit cards can make your life very unpleasant. Immediate gratification, I'm afraid, started with baby boomers and has become the mainstay of the next generation. I do believe in "if it feels good, do it," in the spiritual sense, not the fiscal sense. Mostly I believe in being responsible, it's what I'm supposed to do with my life.
So now I'm 54 years old, and self-sufficient. I have a house and 13 acres of land in the one place I've always wanted to live. I have a career I'm very pleased with. I went to college in 4 years straight (the only member of my family to do so) and graduated from the same place I started (the only member of my family to do so). I went to graduate school. I've been a librarian for 29 years and have never regretted choosing this as my career. I seem to enjoy it more each year, as new things come along. Thank goodness for the Internet, really thank goodness for the Internet.
I'm embarrassed that I get phone calls and cards on my birthday from people whose birthdays I neglect to pay attention to. This happens every year and I promise myself I'll change it next year. Today I'm having lunch and exchanging presents with my most excellent friend Barb--do we really have best friends? If so I guess she's it for me. But I didn't call her on her birthday, the 2nd, and I feel bad about that. She and I don't like having birthdays anymore. She's 10 years younger than I am, which she enjoys being.
I am 50 years older than: my dog Tess, my friend Julie's son Edward (Julie waited to have her cesarean until my birthday so that would be true) and my friend Karen's grandson Jacob.
We have a new option at work of NOT having cake with an uncomfortable gathering in the afternoon when everyone sits around pretending to enjoy being together to celebrate someone's birthday. That's what I chose. Hooray for me! Wait until everyone finds out--they won't like it that I don't have to be the center of attention at such a gathering. It's a new tradition and they're not aware of it yet.
I got a free cup of coffee for my birthday at my coffee place. Barb the Coffee Lady wrote on my coffee club card that today is my birthday in case she wasn't working so that anyone who was working would know to give me a free cup. That's how my day started. But then I got sleepy and pulled over to take a nap and was late to work. And now I have to catalog portable DVD players we got a grant to purchase, which will go to hospitals to be bolted to tables in waiting rooms for people to watch DVDs while they wait for their loved ones to be operated on. We get all sorts of grants to improve services for other agencies, but never for us. No one wants to give us money to put gas in the bookmobile.
Oh yeah, baby boomers complain too.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Beacon in the darkness
I ran the extension cords to my tree of lights yesterday. It's 250 feet from the house, so that's 3 long thick orange extension cords through the woods. This is the effect I wanted: a light in the middle of the woods, away from the lights of the house. I couldn't get the lights very high in the tree, and it's only one strand of lights, but you can see it from the road (barely) and it lights up part of the driveway, as you round the curve toward the house. I guess I shouldn't complain so much and just enjoy the effect I've created. My brother once gave me 2 grapevine balls with battery-operated lights and said the effect he had in mind was two glowing balls in the middle of the forest. That's what I had in mind here, too.
Christmas corner
I decided not to put up a tree this year. I was going to cut one and put it in the corner rather than move the loveseat and rearrange the furniture, as I did last year. Yesterday would have been the day to do it but I decided against it. I accomplished all the things on my list instead. These are the lights I have around my living room windows. I put them up last year after Christmas because I enjoyed my Christmas tree's lights so much. I'm so lazy that I never took them down. Only one person commented on them all year. I have very tactful friends.
Mystery flower
I have no idea what kind of plant this is. I bought it at the Upper Jay library, where there are always plants for sale for $2 or $3--one of the trustees grows them at home and brings them in to raise money for the library. This is some kind of spiky thing that's vaguely attractive and blooms like this. The blossoms are strangely complex and colorful for such a plain looking plant. The leaves of the plant are not soft, and it hurts to touch it. I transplanted it this fall and here's how it rewarded me.
Friday, December 08, 2006
What a difference a day makes
Feeling better today. As my friend Linda said yesterday, we are in control of how our days go. Well, sort of I am. Not entirely--a lot of chemicals contribute. Anyway, I made a quick stop last night to replace the knitting needle I lost somewhere in my living room (had to buy 2, of course) then hustled on home through heavy snow. About 4" of powder at home. No fire but coals enough to make starting one pretty easy. Also the house was fairly warm instead of freezing and uncomfortable. I got it warmed up with a hot, hot fire, which was soooo nice. Dogs were hysterical and drove me crazy but when I told Tess to SIT, SIT, SIT she actually did, but she did it so much that she finally whined to be allowed to get up. That made me laugh. In spite of my stupidity at having left the heat on in the bedroom all day, I felt good about my house, about my life and my ability to function. I brought in wood, settled in for the night and watched dumb television (OK, that didn't make me feel good about myself, but at least I wasn't depressed or crying). Even though Grey's Anatomy was a rerun I still enjoyed a night of nothing. That new show with Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin isn't as good as everyone says it is, is what I think.
The dogs could not accept it that the plow came by last night and would not give up protecting my house. I guess if we were in Penn. they would have taken up arms and fired away. They barked way too much. I didn't need to have my driveway plowed, it stopped snowing just after I got home. I forgot to call Ken until 9 and then we were both very cheerful. I promised to stop by tonight to make his bed for him--he says this is a really difficult thing for him to do so I said it was really simple for me and I hoped he'd let me do it for him. All he has to do is strip the bed & wash the sheets. He said they'd be folded & ready for me. I'm stunned that he's letting me do something like this for him but am really pleased that I can help him.
I have many errands to take care of today: credit union, bank, drug store, wine store for Sunday dinner, Christmas shopping and then...STORM DOOR. Apparently all I have to do is buy it and this friend of Bill's, who's going to install it for me (how wise is this? I've no idea, but it will be probably $100 cheaper than having Lowes do it) will pick it up next week and do it. This will all happen during lunch and after work. Get organized, girlfriend, plan your route. Decide which 2 tasks you'll have time for during lunch and which routes you'll take after work. Drug store at one end of town, other stores at the other end. As I say, I'm feeling pretty perky today. Not even stupid member library donations can get to me.
Feeling better today. As my friend Linda said yesterday, we are in control of how our days go. Well, sort of I am. Not entirely--a lot of chemicals contribute. Anyway, I made a quick stop last night to replace the knitting needle I lost somewhere in my living room (had to buy 2, of course) then hustled on home through heavy snow. About 4" of powder at home. No fire but coals enough to make starting one pretty easy. Also the house was fairly warm instead of freezing and uncomfortable. I got it warmed up with a hot, hot fire, which was soooo nice. Dogs were hysterical and drove me crazy but when I told Tess to SIT, SIT, SIT she actually did, but she did it so much that she finally whined to be allowed to get up. That made me laugh. In spite of my stupidity at having left the heat on in the bedroom all day, I felt good about my house, about my life and my ability to function. I brought in wood, settled in for the night and watched dumb television (OK, that didn't make me feel good about myself, but at least I wasn't depressed or crying). Even though Grey's Anatomy was a rerun I still enjoyed a night of nothing. That new show with Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin isn't as good as everyone says it is, is what I think.
The dogs could not accept it that the plow came by last night and would not give up protecting my house. I guess if we were in Penn. they would have taken up arms and fired away. They barked way too much. I didn't need to have my driveway plowed, it stopped snowing just after I got home. I forgot to call Ken until 9 and then we were both very cheerful. I promised to stop by tonight to make his bed for him--he says this is a really difficult thing for him to do so I said it was really simple for me and I hoped he'd let me do it for him. All he has to do is strip the bed & wash the sheets. He said they'd be folded & ready for me. I'm stunned that he's letting me do something like this for him but am really pleased that I can help him.
I have many errands to take care of today: credit union, bank, drug store, wine store for Sunday dinner, Christmas shopping and then...STORM DOOR. Apparently all I have to do is buy it and this friend of Bill's, who's going to install it for me (how wise is this? I've no idea, but it will be probably $100 cheaper than having Lowes do it) will pick it up next week and do it. This will all happen during lunch and after work. Get organized, girlfriend, plan your route. Decide which 2 tasks you'll have time for during lunch and which routes you'll take after work. Drug store at one end of town, other stores at the other end. As I say, I'm feeling pretty perky today. Not even stupid member library donations can get to me.
Just Swatch me
I know you're not supposed to open presents until your birthday, but my sister always sends me cool Swatches for my birthday, and what's a few days? So last night I opened my new Swatch. Isn't it great? It's very pretty and looks pretty cool on me.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Blues for breakfast
Not feeling very perky today. Found out last night that a friend from the summer community died. She was a strange person, daughter of the former owner of the boys/girls camp that has been the source of most of my summer friends. She and her husband used to come in the fall and stay in their wonderful camp, just after Jamie left me. I spent a lot of time with them, feeling lucky to have such wonderful and stimulating friends. They were very strange: she had severe fibromyalgia and could barely function (it later turned out she was addicted to opiates for the pain), he had suffered a brain aneurysm and had surgery years before which left him not quite right but terribly bright. Anyway, I really enjoyed their company and support. They hadn't been here in many years, though each year they'd call Ken and say they were coming up. He and I would chuckle and ask each other what the odds were that they'd actually show up. So now Liz is dead and I'm having trouble accepting it. I don't know how Donald will function without her, since he could barely function with her alive. They were totally co-dependent. Anyway, sad thing.
Woke this morning with my usual sinus headache. I wish the ground would freeze completely--hoping that will stop this nonsense. Even though it's my 9:00 day I barely made it to work on time. I'm feeling that I can barely function these days, don't know if I'm adjusting to the new season or if there's something organic going on. I didn't stoke the stove last night before bed so there was no fire this morning. Decided not to build one because I was running late. This is a very bad practice and I must, must get up early enough to mess with the stove and feed the birds (I did find time to do this). I checked the mouse traps and they'd been eaten clean. That didn't add to my good cheer. Little bastards. I'll get 'em yet, oh yes I will. I guess I'm just feeling that my house is running me right now, rather than I'm running my house. I feel that way sometimes and it really sucks. At least I figured out where my wooden ladder is--I was convinced someone stole it. No, it's down at the well, where I used it to measure how empty the well was. I'm paranoid about my house these days because the past two days someone has driven up my driveway to the house (I saw tracks in the snow). I hate this, really hate this--it frightens me, makes me feel violated, makes me feel as if someone will break into the house or return when I'm there, or is just being nosy, or any number of bad things. STAY AWAY FROM MY HOME! Time after time I plot putting up a gate, but of course I have no money, and it wouldn't be practical because then how would the fire truck get there when my house is on fire? And should I ever find anyone to plow my driveway, how would the plow man get in? See--life is too complicated for me to deal with, and my house is in control of my life.
Maybe cataloging stoopid videos is just what I need.
Not feeling very perky today. Found out last night that a friend from the summer community died. She was a strange person, daughter of the former owner of the boys/girls camp that has been the source of most of my summer friends. She and her husband used to come in the fall and stay in their wonderful camp, just after Jamie left me. I spent a lot of time with them, feeling lucky to have such wonderful and stimulating friends. They were very strange: she had severe fibromyalgia and could barely function (it later turned out she was addicted to opiates for the pain), he had suffered a brain aneurysm and had surgery years before which left him not quite right but terribly bright. Anyway, I really enjoyed their company and support. They hadn't been here in many years, though each year they'd call Ken and say they were coming up. He and I would chuckle and ask each other what the odds were that they'd actually show up. So now Liz is dead and I'm having trouble accepting it. I don't know how Donald will function without her, since he could barely function with her alive. They were totally co-dependent. Anyway, sad thing.
Woke this morning with my usual sinus headache. I wish the ground would freeze completely--hoping that will stop this nonsense. Even though it's my 9:00 day I barely made it to work on time. I'm feeling that I can barely function these days, don't know if I'm adjusting to the new season or if there's something organic going on. I didn't stoke the stove last night before bed so there was no fire this morning. Decided not to build one because I was running late. This is a very bad practice and I must, must get up early enough to mess with the stove and feed the birds (I did find time to do this). I checked the mouse traps and they'd been eaten clean. That didn't add to my good cheer. Little bastards. I'll get 'em yet, oh yes I will. I guess I'm just feeling that my house is running me right now, rather than I'm running my house. I feel that way sometimes and it really sucks. At least I figured out where my wooden ladder is--I was convinced someone stole it. No, it's down at the well, where I used it to measure how empty the well was. I'm paranoid about my house these days because the past two days someone has driven up my driveway to the house (I saw tracks in the snow). I hate this, really hate this--it frightens me, makes me feel violated, makes me feel as if someone will break into the house or return when I'm there, or is just being nosy, or any number of bad things. STAY AWAY FROM MY HOME! Time after time I plot putting up a gate, but of course I have no money, and it wouldn't be practical because then how would the fire truck get there when my house is on fire? And should I ever find anyone to plow my driveway, how would the plow man get in? See--life is too complicated for me to deal with, and my house is in control of my life.
Maybe cataloging stoopid videos is just what I need.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Already winter blue
It's barely winter and already I've gone shack wacky. It was 4 degrees yesterday morning. I have to stoke the fire every morning and every night before I go to bed. Since I've put plastic up blocking off part of the access to the upstairs from the cathedral ceiling in the living room, the downstairs is incredibly warmer. Not attractive, but warmer. I'm into oversleeping in the morning because it's too dark. So I'm all set for winter, darn it. I guess that's to be expected as the days grow shorter. Once we get past the 21st, by January there's a noticeable difference in the amount of daylight each day and I start to perk up ever so slightly.
I finally finished the crocheted mitten I started trying to make at Liza's. I was determined to crochet a pair of mittens for a change of pace but could not, could not keep track of the count of stitches. I started, ripped out and started again the damn mitten at least 25 times. Finally finished it and man, was it ever ugly. Can never make that pattern again! Makes you look as if someone has lopped off your fingers, absolutely square at the ends. Mondo ugly. My mother wants a pair of knitted mittens ("No! Don't crochet me a pair of mittens, I want you knit me a pair!") so that's what I'm working on now. I lost the really good pattern I got from somewhere online--tons of great free patterns I'm always getting for bookmobile patrons, but I found one I think will be pretty good. Only time will tell. Meanwhile I continue to work on the endless blanket I'm knitting for myself or for the boathouse porch, whichever I deem appropriate. It's so I'll have something to do while I watch TV.
Today I'm cataloging worthless crap for member libraries. I started working, but stopped cold at the video "Godzilla vs. Megalon." Copyright 1976. Who knew they still made Godzilla movies? (which, by the way, is a legitimate subject heading). These libraries will take anything--ANYTHING--that is donated to their libraries. They figure that, if it's good enough for someone to have owned it it must be good enough for a library. WRONG. Next I move along to "Love potion #9," for which I'm sure there's a huge audience. Of course, I'm sure in Schroon Lake there's an audience for just about anything.
Dinner with Ken tonight. Pork chops. I will try to make them interesting and tender enough for him to chew. He too is into his winter routine. He calls me every night to "make sure [I] got home all right." Since I never get phone calls, when the phone rings I jump and say "Oh my god, who's that!" Soon enough I'll know it's him. Our calls are short and I know he just needs something to distract him from cold and snow and he needs to hear my voice. And of course he really is concerned that I make it home in the cold and snow. But with my snow tires he can worry less. I hope.
So life is not really dreary, I'm just feeling a bit wintry and not cheered by it. I've been Christmas shopping and feel a bit overwhelmed by it. I got Ken a wonderful quilted flannel shirt to replace the ones he has that are turning to rags. He loves them and I hope he'll like this one--you never know what he likes so its hard to spend money because lots of times he just puts the things aside and you never see them again. He also wants fireplace gloves, which I know he'll use. I also know I've mentioned that here about 4 times already. I also got socks for Bill and Ken, which I give them every year. Bill counts on that. I got him a flannel shirt too, he wears the same one every Sunday. Like Ken, I'm not sure he wants another one but you'd think he would be tired of the yellow one he's been wearing for years, wouldn't you? Most of the rest of my shopping will have to wait until the end of next week because I'm really, really broke and have to wait until I get paid. I said this to the clerk in the store when I explained that my pay days weren't coinciding very well with my Christmas shopping and she said "And all the good stuff will be gone by then, won't it." Well thanks for the encouragement, lady.
Life could certainly be worse! At least I'm not hearing voices anymore, though that was certainly an entertaining distraction. Now I spend my early morning moments dealing with dueling dogs who each want to be plastered against my body for warmth--one under the covers, blocked by the one on top. Nudge with cold nose, nudge with cold nose. She does not give up.
It's barely winter and already I've gone shack wacky. It was 4 degrees yesterday morning. I have to stoke the fire every morning and every night before I go to bed. Since I've put plastic up blocking off part of the access to the upstairs from the cathedral ceiling in the living room, the downstairs is incredibly warmer. Not attractive, but warmer. I'm into oversleeping in the morning because it's too dark. So I'm all set for winter, darn it. I guess that's to be expected as the days grow shorter. Once we get past the 21st, by January there's a noticeable difference in the amount of daylight each day and I start to perk up ever so slightly.
I finally finished the crocheted mitten I started trying to make at Liza's. I was determined to crochet a pair of mittens for a change of pace but could not, could not keep track of the count of stitches. I started, ripped out and started again the damn mitten at least 25 times. Finally finished it and man, was it ever ugly. Can never make that pattern again! Makes you look as if someone has lopped off your fingers, absolutely square at the ends. Mondo ugly. My mother wants a pair of knitted mittens ("No! Don't crochet me a pair of mittens, I want you knit me a pair!") so that's what I'm working on now. I lost the really good pattern I got from somewhere online--tons of great free patterns I'm always getting for bookmobile patrons, but I found one I think will be pretty good. Only time will tell. Meanwhile I continue to work on the endless blanket I'm knitting for myself or for the boathouse porch, whichever I deem appropriate. It's so I'll have something to do while I watch TV.
Today I'm cataloging worthless crap for member libraries. I started working, but stopped cold at the video "Godzilla vs. Megalon." Copyright 1976. Who knew they still made Godzilla movies? (which, by the way, is a legitimate subject heading). These libraries will take anything--ANYTHING--that is donated to their libraries. They figure that, if it's good enough for someone to have owned it it must be good enough for a library. WRONG. Next I move along to "Love potion #9," for which I'm sure there's a huge audience. Of course, I'm sure in Schroon Lake there's an audience for just about anything.
Dinner with Ken tonight. Pork chops. I will try to make them interesting and tender enough for him to chew. He too is into his winter routine. He calls me every night to "make sure [I] got home all right." Since I never get phone calls, when the phone rings I jump and say "Oh my god, who's that!" Soon enough I'll know it's him. Our calls are short and I know he just needs something to distract him from cold and snow and he needs to hear my voice. And of course he really is concerned that I make it home in the cold and snow. But with my snow tires he can worry less. I hope.
So life is not really dreary, I'm just feeling a bit wintry and not cheered by it. I've been Christmas shopping and feel a bit overwhelmed by it. I got Ken a wonderful quilted flannel shirt to replace the ones he has that are turning to rags. He loves them and I hope he'll like this one--you never know what he likes so its hard to spend money because lots of times he just puts the things aside and you never see them again. He also wants fireplace gloves, which I know he'll use. I also know I've mentioned that here about 4 times already. I also got socks for Bill and Ken, which I give them every year. Bill counts on that. I got him a flannel shirt too, he wears the same one every Sunday. Like Ken, I'm not sure he wants another one but you'd think he would be tired of the yellow one he's been wearing for years, wouldn't you? Most of the rest of my shopping will have to wait until the end of next week because I'm really, really broke and have to wait until I get paid. I said this to the clerk in the store when I explained that my pay days weren't coinciding very well with my Christmas shopping and she said "And all the good stuff will be gone by then, won't it." Well thanks for the encouragement, lady.
Life could certainly be worse! At least I'm not hearing voices anymore, though that was certainly an entertaining distraction. Now I spend my early morning moments dealing with dueling dogs who each want to be plastered against my body for warmth--one under the covers, blocked by the one on top. Nudge with cold nose, nudge with cold nose. She does not give up.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Slothiness (see below)
Well, speaking of Karma. I'm working on the rest of the Peru juvenile collection today and came across Sloth's birthday party. It's about Sloth--"Sloth's house was a terrible mess. 'I like a house that looks lived in,' said Sloth. 'How else can one be comfortable.?' He moved the jelly jars over on his wash tub and rested his big furry feet."
So then Sloth has a party because his house is closer than Rat's house and Rat, Armadillo and Toucan get caught in the rain. Needless to say, Sloth only has one spoon, not enough bowls and his roof leaks into the lukewarm soup. '"It's the same soup every time, but somehow it always tastes different! Sometimes it tastes stronger than at other times, depending on what's fallen in. You know,"' said Sloth, '"Sometimes things get into soup you hadn't planned on.'"
So there I am, Sloth. Except that I have plenty of bowls and spoons, but living in a house that's a terrible mess and looks lived in. By a troop of sloths and their pet dogs.
Well, speaking of Karma. I'm working on the rest of the Peru juvenile collection today and came across Sloth's birthday party. It's about Sloth--"Sloth's house was a terrible mess. 'I like a house that looks lived in,' said Sloth. 'How else can one be comfortable.?' He moved the jelly jars over on his wash tub and rested his big furry feet."
So then Sloth has a party because his house is closer than Rat's house and Rat, Armadillo and Toucan get caught in the rain. Needless to say, Sloth only has one spoon, not enough bowls and his roof leaks into the lukewarm soup. '"It's the same soup every time, but somehow it always tastes different! Sometimes it tastes stronger than at other times, depending on what's fallen in. You know,"' said Sloth, '"Sometimes things get into soup you hadn't planned on.'"
So there I am, Sloth. Except that I have plenty of bowls and spoons, but living in a house that's a terrible mess and looks lived in. By a troop of sloths and their pet dogs.
Comfortable spot
My friend Barb, who lives in Massachusetts and spends all of August here and is married to a wonderful man who's a judge and is an integral part of our Columbus Day celebration sent me this sloth. We were discussing personality traits during our Columbus Day visit and I said I was a true sloth, then described what I knew about sloths: they cannot stand upright and when they fall to the ground they have to crawl on their bellies; if they perchance should drown their metabolism is so slow that it takes them half an hour to do so; they move so slowly that moss grows on their fur. Next to dogs they are my favorite animal. I was delighted when yesterday's mail included this. I have it perched (appropriately) on top of the television, smiling at me. That's a ceramic greyhoud next to it, part of my paternal grandmother's collection, and a bird's next on the left, one I found this fall. That's my kitchen in the background, what you can see of it. That's the sink, which has a nice window above it, looking out into the encroaching forest
Monday, December 04, 2006
Woodland trees
This is one of my favorite decorated houses. They started a trend in their neighborhood. The wrap lights around the trunks of hardwood trees around their house. They started out with just a few about 5 years ago, now they must have a dozen, in the front yard and back yard. Some of their neighbors have copied them. When you drive by there are just these poles of lights in the darkness, all different and non-Christmas colors. It's really pretty.
Icicles
This is my neighbor's house. The big thing here is to put these "icicle lights" around the edge of your roof. I think maybe these guys got carried away. Not only do these not look like icicles, they light up the woods. That's an inflatible Santa at the foot of the stairs. Just about everyone in the North Country who has kids has an inflatible figure--of Santa, of a snowman, a tiger, something or other.
Resting boats
This is what's across the road from the Rouses Point library. Rouses Point is very far north, just next to the Canadian border on Lake Champlain. These boats are resting in dry dock for the winter.
December morning
This is what it looked like at my house this morning at 7:00. Very pretty in a December sort of way. There's about 3" of snow on the ground and it was 11 degrees. Welcome winter!
Friday, December 01, 2006
It's July but it's cold as Christmas
That's what Elton John sings, but the reverse is true right now. It's raining today and is incredibly warm. Truly lovely but temporary, the specialists warn. Temps due to drop dramatically during the day and rain to turn to snow. Not "significant amounts" but "measurable amounts." Well, you can measure half an inch so who knows what that means. I still have no one to plow my driveway but have snow tires so can handle snow up to a point. Then there's always what I did for most of last year: park at the end of the driveway and make a cowpath to the house. Who knows what winter will bring this year. I was predicting (to myself, not aloud) the other night that it would be a cold one. Let's see if I'm right. Last year the lake froze over on December 11th. THAT certainly won't happen this year! I'm stunned that it's already December 1st
I verified that the rank of wood I thought was dry is indeed dry so hooray! More dry wood! And I think I've burned less wood than I thought, so maybe, just maybe this will work out after all. Last year by early December the temp had dropped to -11 and we're far from that. It certainly would be a surprise if that happened any time soon. I still don't keep the fire going all night, which is hard on my kindling pile but saves my wood. More work to start a fire every night when I get home. But isn't life full of tasks anyway?
Wednesday we took our laptops to Peru to work in their basement children's room to barcode their collection. The hell with any sensible classification scheme, they use this: Nature, Sports, Guidance, Winter, Spring (etc.), Jungle, Desert, Mice, Rabbits, Dogs (you get the drift of that), Tall Tales, Poetry, Easy Readers (some of which are non-fiction) plus lots of other creative categories, and some have no classification at all so we just made something up to put in the data base. And she's very proud of the way she's got her collection organized. We suggested that it might be hard to find something when they go online and start getting requests for some of these books. "Oh no one will request children's books." NOT SO!!! Plenty of libraries use the collections of other libraries to substitute for their own crummy collections. Well, it's really not our problem and we did our best.
Today I'm off to Rouses Point for day 2 of weeding her non-fiction. Apparently she discarded everything I recommended from my last visit, which is a huge surprise to me. Today I move from the 300's (social sciences--doesn't get much more boring) through the languages and sciences, maybe to the cookbooks). She has a pretty big collection so this will take a while. I only go once a week, and she's only open from 1-5--I leave at 3:45 to get back here at 4 (no overtime allowed). You can't really weed for more than 2 1/2 hours at a time anyway, especially when the collection is as depressing as this one is. I shouldn't say that, hers is one of the better ones I've done. I actually kept quite a bit of her stuff, she does a pretty good job of selection. She just never throws anything out. Most of these directors are afraid of their non-fiction.
Now I must pay my bills online and scrape together whatever's left to order fireplace gloves for Ken for Christmas, as promised. He gave me a pair last year and they are one of the best presents anyone has ever given me. You can pick up a burning log and move it to just the right position to get the fire ablaze.
Onward and upward.
That's what Elton John sings, but the reverse is true right now. It's raining today and is incredibly warm. Truly lovely but temporary, the specialists warn. Temps due to drop dramatically during the day and rain to turn to snow. Not "significant amounts" but "measurable amounts." Well, you can measure half an inch so who knows what that means. I still have no one to plow my driveway but have snow tires so can handle snow up to a point. Then there's always what I did for most of last year: park at the end of the driveway and make a cowpath to the house. Who knows what winter will bring this year. I was predicting (to myself, not aloud) the other night that it would be a cold one. Let's see if I'm right. Last year the lake froze over on December 11th. THAT certainly won't happen this year! I'm stunned that it's already December 1st
I verified that the rank of wood I thought was dry is indeed dry so hooray! More dry wood! And I think I've burned less wood than I thought, so maybe, just maybe this will work out after all. Last year by early December the temp had dropped to -11 and we're far from that. It certainly would be a surprise if that happened any time soon. I still don't keep the fire going all night, which is hard on my kindling pile but saves my wood. More work to start a fire every night when I get home. But isn't life full of tasks anyway?
Wednesday we took our laptops to Peru to work in their basement children's room to barcode their collection. The hell with any sensible classification scheme, they use this: Nature, Sports, Guidance, Winter, Spring (etc.), Jungle, Desert, Mice, Rabbits, Dogs (you get the drift of that), Tall Tales, Poetry, Easy Readers (some of which are non-fiction) plus lots of other creative categories, and some have no classification at all so we just made something up to put in the data base. And she's very proud of the way she's got her collection organized. We suggested that it might be hard to find something when they go online and start getting requests for some of these books. "Oh no one will request children's books." NOT SO!!! Plenty of libraries use the collections of other libraries to substitute for their own crummy collections. Well, it's really not our problem and we did our best.
Today I'm off to Rouses Point for day 2 of weeding her non-fiction. Apparently she discarded everything I recommended from my last visit, which is a huge surprise to me. Today I move from the 300's (social sciences--doesn't get much more boring) through the languages and sciences, maybe to the cookbooks). She has a pretty big collection so this will take a while. I only go once a week, and she's only open from 1-5--I leave at 3:45 to get back here at 4 (no overtime allowed). You can't really weed for more than 2 1/2 hours at a time anyway, especially when the collection is as depressing as this one is. I shouldn't say that, hers is one of the better ones I've done. I actually kept quite a bit of her stuff, she does a pretty good job of selection. She just never throws anything out. Most of these directors are afraid of their non-fiction.
Now I must pay my bills online and scrape together whatever's left to order fireplace gloves for Ken for Christmas, as promised. He gave me a pair last year and they are one of the best presents anyone has ever given me. You can pick up a burning log and move it to just the right position to get the fire ablaze.
Onward and upward.
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