Op-Ed Contributor
Thanks for the Tax Cut!By LARRY DAVID
Published: December 20, 2010
THERE is a God! It passed! The Bush tax cuts have been extended two years for the upper bracketeers, of which I am a proud member, thank you very much. I’m the last person in the world I’d want to be beside, but I am beside myself! This is a life changer, I tell you. A life changer!
To begin with, I was planning a trip to Cabo with my kids for Christmas vacation. We were going to fly coach, but now with the money I’m saving in taxes, I’m going to splurge and bump myself up to first class. First class! Somebody told me they serve warm nuts up there, and call you “mister.” I might not get off the plane!
I’m also going to call the hotel and get another room so I don’t have to sleep on a cot in the kids’ room. Don’t get me wrong — I love a good cot. The problem is they tend to take up a lot of room, and it’s getting a little tougher in my advancing years to fold it up and drag it to the closet. I mean, I’d do it if I had to, but guess what? I don’t! Not with this windfall coming my way. Now I get to have my own room with a king-sized bed. And who knows, maybe I’ll even get some fancy bottled water from the minibar. This is shaping up to be the best vacation I’ve had in years.
When I get home, thanks to the great compromise, the first thing I’m going to do is get a flat-screen TV. Finally I can throw out the 20-inch Zenith with the rabbit ears, the one I inherited from my parents when they died. The reception is terrible and I’m getting tired of going out to bars every time I want to watch a game. Last month, the antenna broke and I tried to improvise one with a metal hanger and wound up cutting myself. Every time I see that scab, I say to myself, “If, God willing, those Bush tax cuts are restored, I’m going to buy a new TV.” Well, guess what? They have been!
It’s also going to be a boon for my health. After years of coveting them, I’ll finally be able to afford blueberries. Did you know they have a lot of antioxidants, which prevent cancer? Cancer! This tax cut just might save my life. Who said Republicans don’t support health care? I’m going to have the blueberries with my cereal, and I’m not talking Special K. Those days are over. It’s nothing but real granola from now on. The kind you get in the plastic bins in health food stores. Did someone say “organic”?
The only problem is if, God forbid, the tax cuts are repealed in two years, how will I ever go back to Special K and bananas? Well, I did quit smoking, so I’m sure if push came to shove I could summon up the willpower to get off granola and blueberries. Of course, I suppose with the money I managed to save from the “Seinfeld” syndication, I probably could continue to eat granola with blueberries, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
Life was good, and now it’s even better. Thank you, Republicans. And a special thank you to President Obama and the Democrats. I didn’t know you cared.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
you have to love him
I was reminded of this when listening to NPR this morning, a story about William Safire as speechwriter for Spiro Agnew. Agnew, like "W" and Dan Quayle, furnished us with much to ponder about elected officials--
My favorite (and my father's, who would have been really amused by Quayle and W, as well as discouraged and frustrated), is the nattering nabobs of negativism.
Agnew was known for his scathing criticisms of political opponents, especially journalists and anti-war activists. He attacked his adversaries with relish, hurling unusual, often alliterative epithets—some of which were coined by White House speechwriters William Safire and Pat Buchanan—including "pusillanimous pussyfooters", "nattering nabobs of negativism" (written by Safire), and "hopeless, hysterical hypochondriacs of history".[7] He once described a group of opponents as "an effete corps of impudent snobs who characterize themselves as intellectuals."
My favorite (and my father's, who would have been really amused by Quayle and W, as well as discouraged and frustrated), is the nattering nabobs of negativism.
Agnew was known for his scathing criticisms of political opponents, especially journalists and anti-war activists. He attacked his adversaries with relish, hurling unusual, often alliterative epithets—some of which were coined by White House speechwriters William Safire and Pat Buchanan—including "pusillanimous pussyfooters", "nattering nabobs of negativism" (written by Safire), and "hopeless, hysterical hypochondriacs of history".[7] He once described a group of opponents as "an effete corps of impudent snobs who characterize themselves as intellectuals."
Thursday, December 16, 2010
and our lives were never the same
One of the most important events in my father's life happened after this. It affected the rest of our lives, and pretty much ruined his career. A dark time in history.
From the NY Times:
On Dec. 16, 1950, President Truman proclaimed a national state of emergency in order to fight "Communist imperialism."
From the NY Times:
On Dec. 16, 1950, President Truman proclaimed a national state of emergency in order to fight "Communist imperialism."
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
GROSSSSSS--From the NYTimes
Without Blood Sausage, It Just Wouldn't Be Christmas
By JULIA MOSKIN
A group of Estonian-Americans recently gathered to make traditional blood sausage, which is boiled, frozen and saved as a treat for Christmas Eve.
By JULIA MOSKIN
A group of Estonian-Americans recently gathered to make traditional blood sausage, which is boiled, frozen and saved as a treat for Christmas Eve.
Monday, December 13, 2010
not the most beautiful I've ever had, but she's mine
This started out as a perfectly respectable Christmas tree. A friend helped me put it up on Saturday, but I tipped the table over that night and the tree fell to the floor. Much loss of ornaments (the floor now sparkles with tiny pieces of glass ornaments), which is OK, things are just things. The dark blue, heavy glass ball that was my great-grandparents' didn't break.
Anyway, when I tried to put it up again, I could not, could not, could not get this tree to stay vertical, it kept tipping over. The trunk is too small for the stand. The stand is too big for the trunk. There are shims between the trunk & the screws trying to hold it in place. It's a ridiculous endeavor. I contemplated un-decorating it and starting over, or cutting a new tree. This tree is thte top of a 40' balsam tree cut by friends while I was in RI at Thanksgiving. So it's special. A Congressional tree, cut by Rush. There was a big branch/bough on the left, which matched the one on the right, but I cut it off out of frustration at trying to get the stupid tree to stand up. I don't even care if it's straight or leaning, just as long as it stays up. It's tied to a bookcase. I tried wiring it to the wall, the way Mark does at Liza's, but the screw in the wall just came right out. That added another circle of frustration. or hell.
Let's see what greets me when I get home tonight.
Anyway, when I tried to put it up again, I could not, could not, could not get this tree to stay vertical, it kept tipping over. The trunk is too small for the stand. The stand is too big for the trunk. There are shims between the trunk & the screws trying to hold it in place. It's a ridiculous endeavor. I contemplated un-decorating it and starting over, or cutting a new tree. This tree is thte top of a 40' balsam tree cut by friends while I was in RI at Thanksgiving. So it's special. A Congressional tree, cut by Rush. There was a big branch/bough on the left, which matched the one on the right, but I cut it off out of frustration at trying to get the stupid tree to stand up. I don't even care if it's straight or leaning, just as long as it stays up. It's tied to a bookcase. I tried wiring it to the wall, the way Mark does at Liza's, but the screw in the wall just came right out. That added another circle of frustration. or hell.
Let's see what greets me when I get home tonight.
depressed pumpkin
You don't see no black cat sitting next to this!
Poor Pumpkin, froze, thawed, froze, thawed, then gave up.
Poor Pumpkin, froze, thawed, froze, thawed, then gave up.
wolf or brown dog?
I was trying to take a picture of Chances' paw print, which is huge in the snow. Tess came barreling back to see what I was studying. Hence prints going in opposite directions.
Tess Pond--bog
There's a small piece of water--not a pond, barely 5' across, that Tess adores. Chances has always liked it, too, but lately she has trouble getting out so she's less enthusiastic about taking a dip there. Tess LOVES to swim (the 3 strokes it takes to get across), especially in the summer. There's muck on the bottom, which gets stirred up when a dog jumps in, which then attaches itself to the dogs fur. Black, black muck. Which rubs off on furniture, pant legs, car seats--
Chances always waits for me
She likes to pose. "Hey Chances! Look at me!" Tess, on the other hand, makes faces & hides when I take out the camera.
Not much snow, really
Birthday walk in the bog yesterday. I'm the same age as my house number--how many can say that?
Friday, December 10, 2010
it's called rime ice
This is my annual shot of the Saranac River, seen on my way to work. Rime ice forms when ... oh, I don't know when, nor do I feel like figuring it out today.
It was -8 at my house early t his morning. I won't reveal what the temperature in my living room was, that's too embarrassing.
I forgot about a doctor's appointment this morning, so will have to pay something for the inconvenience caused and the lost opportunity of some other patient to take advantage of the time. Never mind that i won't get to see the doctor, as planned. blech.
It was -8 at my house early t his morning. I won't reveal what the temperature in my living room was, that's too embarrassing.
I forgot about a doctor's appointment this morning, so will have to pay something for the inconvenience caused and the lost opportunity of some other patient to take advantage of the time. Never mind that i won't get to see the doctor, as planned. blech.
ice 12 2010 009
No, it's not a black & white shot, that's how it really looks. I can always find something nice when I'm suffering and whining about complications in my life. Not real complications, just living in my house, in the woods, in winter, alone. I remind myself that a)it's my choice to live this way, b)this is where I always wanted to live, and c)it's a good life.
shlushie
Here's what water looks like when it starts to freeze. Sort of like the coating you get with boiled milk. only much prettier.
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Winter? oh geez
Not to make a big deal or anything, but the temperature in Hawkeye was 2 this morning. That's PLUS 2, as we say here when we start competing for coldest spot. Check me out tomorrow, when temps are supposed to be below zero. Oh, I'm the lucky one, all right. Someone at work talked to me about why I live 30 miles from work. I'm not sure she got it, she misses a lot of things. Anyway, this morning the ride to work was especially boring and endless. Then I had to face my desk: piles of periodicals, damaged books waiting for word on their futures, books waiting to be cataloged, oh well--and a clam shell full of paper clips. Clips on the half shell. Brought here during Mark's and my shell-collecting days earlier this year. It's a big 'un.
Temp in the house was 49. Obviously I MUST do something about this. The breaker for the heater in the back room arced earlier this year, so I don't have that heater on. Well, duh, that makes a big difference. Plus it just occurred to me that heat is traveling up through the hole in the kitchen ceiling. Yes, I'm slow to pick up on these things. I asked a contractor friend if I could still use the breaker for the back room heat, if the breaker was safe. His advice: put in a new breaker. OK, I think I can do that. I've learned how to put in new light fixtures, which is ridiculously easy. Breakers? Same principle. I hope.
I bought a small electric heater for the cellar (cellar is a word used loosely here) and took it down there last night. The heater I had got its feet wet during the power outage, and although the same happened before & I still used it, I've wizened up in my old age and decided to replace it. The heater has an auto shut-off, but the room has to be 60 degrees before it shuts off. Lots of luck with that. I just need to keep the temp. there above 30 or so, but I can't afford much in the way of a heater so here I am. The good thing about having a warm cellar hole is that the bathroom warms up because the trap door for the cellar is in the bathroom. Ahhhhh, a warm toilet seat.
I'm trying not to lose my sense of humor or my optimistic outlook during all of this, but today I'm not fighting hard. Hence the negative attitude. It will warm up after tonight, though, so I'll perk up. And Tess will be able to walk on all four paws at once--when it's this cold she has to keep one foot in the air at all times, thawing the paws one at a time. And why would a dog need to take her Nylabone outside at 2 degrees? And drop the white bone in the white snow. Even she has a cavalier attitude about money. I blame myself, I never educated her about the value of money.
Temp in the house was 49. Obviously I MUST do something about this. The breaker for the heater in the back room arced earlier this year, so I don't have that heater on. Well, duh, that makes a big difference. Plus it just occurred to me that heat is traveling up through the hole in the kitchen ceiling. Yes, I'm slow to pick up on these things. I asked a contractor friend if I could still use the breaker for the back room heat, if the breaker was safe. His advice: put in a new breaker. OK, I think I can do that. I've learned how to put in new light fixtures, which is ridiculously easy. Breakers? Same principle. I hope.
I bought a small electric heater for the cellar (cellar is a word used loosely here) and took it down there last night. The heater I had got its feet wet during the power outage, and although the same happened before & I still used it, I've wizened up in my old age and decided to replace it. The heater has an auto shut-off, but the room has to be 60 degrees before it shuts off. Lots of luck with that. I just need to keep the temp. there above 30 or so, but I can't afford much in the way of a heater so here I am. The good thing about having a warm cellar hole is that the bathroom warms up because the trap door for the cellar is in the bathroom. Ahhhhh, a warm toilet seat.
I'm trying not to lose my sense of humor or my optimistic outlook during all of this, but today I'm not fighting hard. Hence the negative attitude. It will warm up after tonight, though, so I'll perk up. And Tess will be able to walk on all four paws at once--when it's this cold she has to keep one foot in the air at all times, thawing the paws one at a time. And why would a dog need to take her Nylabone outside at 2 degrees? And drop the white bone in the white snow. Even she has a cavalier attitude about money. I blame myself, I never educated her about the value of money.
Monday, December 06, 2010
RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!
NOAA has issued a winter weather advisory for this afternoon and tonight. Huh? 5" of snow, maybe more. This qualifies as advisory-worthy? Methinks not. There's about 3" of fluffy stuff at home, I'm guessing there will be more when I get home and later. well, heck, it IS December. Sometimes the lake freezes by Christmas but I'm not sure that will happen this year. Who knows
What have I been doing?
***Waiting to have my power turned back on. Last Weds. morning power went out after a dramatic wind storm (it was a "pole issue"). As we all know, I can handle power outages. When I got home, though it was dark, so very dark. I keep flashlights in the same place always, have a propane lantern and stove, and know where my candles are. But who hid the matches? I knew they couldn't be far but it took a long time to find any incendiary device. There was success, of course, but this did not set a good course for the next few days.
The house was pretty warm at first, and the electric company said the power would be on the next morning around 11. I stayed home Thurs. because I'm paranoid about my water situation. The sump pump wasn't running so the cellar was filling with water, endangering my most precious possession: my pump. I watched as the level in the cellar got higher & higher. Was a nervous wreck. I waited for the Magic Hour, but it never came. No power until Friday afternoon. By then I was a mess--power company had promised 3 different times that the power would be on at a particular time. Of course I thought of it as betrayal that they didn't keep their word. Well, chump, it's hardly personal. Anyway, I was a mess Friday morning, stayed home again (eating up precious time that I have little enough of). Yahoo! Another day off. To spend stoking the fire & shining a flashlight into the cellar.
**That was interrupted, though, by a big red truck pulling up to the house. A young man got out--he was wearing a wet t-shirt and had a blanket wrapped around his waist. He needed help, big time help. He and a friend had been in a canoe, trying to bring in their float. Turned out the friend didn't know how to behave in a canoe, or (even worse) how to swim. Friend went in the water, canoe sank, Jeb shed his clothes & jumped in to help friend. Because Gary was wearing a jacket and steel-toed boots, he was really struggling. OK, Jeb saves his life, but then asthmatic Gary says he can't walk, not even up the hill to the truck where he could get warm. Poor Jeb! He came to my house because he knew me (though he had to remind me of that). The power was out, but I have a regular phone to plug in when the power's out. I called 911--very dramatic, my first time ever. They wanted lots of details ("One is on the ground and the other one is where? In your house? Is he all right?" Yes, I'm staring at him). Ultimately 2 ambulances, a fire truck and 2 vehicles driven by volunteers showed up. I was convinced Gary would be dead, but he wasn't & the ambulance drove to him & tucked him right in. End of story? Of course not. Jeb asked if I had any clothes that might fit him--his were still on the float, far from shore. I had a pair of sweatpants that were too long for me, a t-shirt, but when he asked for shoes ("even flip-flops") I could only offer Crocs. He took them, though. We were partners in this crisis, and he is a very nice person. I had given him 2 down blankets to take down the hill but the ambulance got to Gary first. Firefighters went out in a 2nd boat, resurrected the canoe and got Jeb's clothes from the float. They did not, however, bring the float in. Everyone has their limits. We had to wait at my house until Jeb's father came, giving us a chance to find out things about each other. And we each had a beer.
Whew was that ever exciting.
I'm in someone's good graces because the power came on, the sump pump kicked right in and the water pump was not underwater. Phew--crisis averted. I can be polite to customer service reps. for a long time, and I know these things aren't their faults, so, though I did mention that I'd been "promised" power several times, I still was dark. So dark. The people were very nice and I made them laugh, always my goal.
***Saturday I went to town (Pbg.) to shop, catch up on things, etc. I had a great time, bought nice things for nice people and animals. All I bought for me was groceries and a bottle of vodka. The dogs had been eating dog biscuits and cat food for 3 days, so you'd think they'd be disappointed when faced with a bowl of Large Breed chunks. Hah! Food is food.
***I was reminded that reading by candlelight is NOT romantic (I already knew that), and that reading gets boring no matter what you try to read, when you've been reading for hours and hours and hours. At one point I started to rearrange my living room furniture. That seemed a little goofy, though, so I didn't. There was NOTHING to do. I cooked on my camp stove, kept warm by the stove, talked to the dogs a lot, and pondered the meaning of life.
Life has its moments, and things usually turn out well. For me, at least.
What have I been doing?
***Waiting to have my power turned back on. Last Weds. morning power went out after a dramatic wind storm (it was a "pole issue"). As we all know, I can handle power outages. When I got home, though it was dark, so very dark. I keep flashlights in the same place always, have a propane lantern and stove, and know where my candles are. But who hid the matches? I knew they couldn't be far but it took a long time to find any incendiary device. There was success, of course, but this did not set a good course for the next few days.
The house was pretty warm at first, and the electric company said the power would be on the next morning around 11. I stayed home Thurs. because I'm paranoid about my water situation. The sump pump wasn't running so the cellar was filling with water, endangering my most precious possession: my pump. I watched as the level in the cellar got higher & higher. Was a nervous wreck. I waited for the Magic Hour, but it never came. No power until Friday afternoon. By then I was a mess--power company had promised 3 different times that the power would be on at a particular time. Of course I thought of it as betrayal that they didn't keep their word. Well, chump, it's hardly personal. Anyway, I was a mess Friday morning, stayed home again (eating up precious time that I have little enough of). Yahoo! Another day off. To spend stoking the fire & shining a flashlight into the cellar.
**That was interrupted, though, by a big red truck pulling up to the house. A young man got out--he was wearing a wet t-shirt and had a blanket wrapped around his waist. He needed help, big time help. He and a friend had been in a canoe, trying to bring in their float. Turned out the friend didn't know how to behave in a canoe, or (even worse) how to swim. Friend went in the water, canoe sank, Jeb shed his clothes & jumped in to help friend. Because Gary was wearing a jacket and steel-toed boots, he was really struggling. OK, Jeb saves his life, but then asthmatic Gary says he can't walk, not even up the hill to the truck where he could get warm. Poor Jeb! He came to my house because he knew me (though he had to remind me of that). The power was out, but I have a regular phone to plug in when the power's out. I called 911--very dramatic, my first time ever. They wanted lots of details ("One is on the ground and the other one is where? In your house? Is he all right?" Yes, I'm staring at him). Ultimately 2 ambulances, a fire truck and 2 vehicles driven by volunteers showed up. I was convinced Gary would be dead, but he wasn't & the ambulance drove to him & tucked him right in. End of story? Of course not. Jeb asked if I had any clothes that might fit him--his were still on the float, far from shore. I had a pair of sweatpants that were too long for me, a t-shirt, but when he asked for shoes ("even flip-flops") I could only offer Crocs. He took them, though. We were partners in this crisis, and he is a very nice person. I had given him 2 down blankets to take down the hill but the ambulance got to Gary first. Firefighters went out in a 2nd boat, resurrected the canoe and got Jeb's clothes from the float. They did not, however, bring the float in. Everyone has their limits. We had to wait at my house until Jeb's father came, giving us a chance to find out things about each other. And we each had a beer.
Whew was that ever exciting.
I'm in someone's good graces because the power came on, the sump pump kicked right in and the water pump was not underwater. Phew--crisis averted. I can be polite to customer service reps. for a long time, and I know these things aren't their faults, so, though I did mention that I'd been "promised" power several times, I still was dark. So dark. The people were very nice and I made them laugh, always my goal.
***Saturday I went to town (Pbg.) to shop, catch up on things, etc. I had a great time, bought nice things for nice people and animals. All I bought for me was groceries and a bottle of vodka. The dogs had been eating dog biscuits and cat food for 3 days, so you'd think they'd be disappointed when faced with a bowl of Large Breed chunks. Hah! Food is food.
***I was reminded that reading by candlelight is NOT romantic (I already knew that), and that reading gets boring no matter what you try to read, when you've been reading for hours and hours and hours. At one point I started to rearrange my living room furniture. That seemed a little goofy, though, so I didn't. There was NOTHING to do. I cooked on my camp stove, kept warm by the stove, talked to the dogs a lot, and pondered the meaning of life.
Life has its moments, and things usually turn out well. For me, at least.
Merry Christmas
More like a constellation than Christmas lights, but something nice to look at from my living room. I'll play around with these, maybe add another string. Like, I could spell out HELLO, like the hello sign on the side of a hill along Route 87 south of us.
Next up is putting up my tree. No hurry, but it's often up for that fast-approaching day that comes before Christmas.
Next up is putting up my tree. No hurry, but it's often up for that fast-approaching day that comes before Christmas.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Back to reality
We had a great Thanksgiving, good food & wonderful visiting with each other. My mother handled it all well, didn't get too tired or confused. As soon as the others left, though, she fell asleep. Soundly.
I don't like leaving my house unattended this time of year, but there's not much I can do. Kitty was left alone. I left a HUGE bowl of food for her, which she must have eaten in one sitting. She looks like a bowling ball. I'm now counting points for her, too.
I have wonderful friends here. My friends the Holts were here for T-giving week. I had dinner with them the night before I left for RI and we had a nice visit. They love to cut down trees, so I told them they could cut anything they wanted to on my land. Our goal is to revive the view I used to have--my brother cut a bunch of trees so I could see Whiteface and Catamount. He felt strongly that, if you live on a hill you should have a view. The balsams had grown up to block the view, plus there are some birches, maples, beech, etc. that need to be cut. They're small trees. ANYWAY: When I came home there was a perfect Christmas tree leaning against my deck. The firewood that was outside had been moved, now stacked in the wood shed. AND, amazing is this: there's crushed stone on about half of my driveway. This was a huge surprise, and I pondered a while about who did it. I settled on Rush & Annie, though, as my generous friends who always know what's important to me. There was 3" of snow when I got home, so I couldn't fully appreciate the driveway's new look. It's raining now, though, and I can see what a work of art it is.
I spent the morning at home today, waiting fr Mr. Chimney Cleaner to come. He was due at 10:45 so I hung out from 4:30 until then. I don't know why I get up at that hour, but if I'm awake and can't get back to sleep I figure I might as well get up. So there I am, enjoying my house that has finally warmed up, and BINGO the power went out. We're having big winds here, and apparently in spite of the best efforts of the power company, I guess a tree limb fell on the line. It's only my house, one other house, and the camps below that got knocked. I had to wait for the stove to be clean and ready, but as soon as I could I built a wonderful fire. I got more instructions on how to burn wood--each time he comes I learn a little more. He's putting me on the Call List, says I need cleaning twice a year. Sort of like the dentist, huh.
I don't mind the power thing too much, I can change things to get by without water, but I worry about the cellar. The sump pump can only pump when there's electricity. If it doesn't pump, the cellar fills with water (like, really fills--5' or more) and my pump is underwater. It's not a submersible pump, but I've been lucky in the past and it still works when it dries out. Let's hope the power's on when I get home. It should surprise the dogs, the television was on, as were most of the lights in the living room.
Wish me luck.
I don't like leaving my house unattended this time of year, but there's not much I can do. Kitty was left alone. I left a HUGE bowl of food for her, which she must have eaten in one sitting. She looks like a bowling ball. I'm now counting points for her, too.
I have wonderful friends here. My friends the Holts were here for T-giving week. I had dinner with them the night before I left for RI and we had a nice visit. They love to cut down trees, so I told them they could cut anything they wanted to on my land. Our goal is to revive the view I used to have--my brother cut a bunch of trees so I could see Whiteface and Catamount. He felt strongly that, if you live on a hill you should have a view. The balsams had grown up to block the view, plus there are some birches, maples, beech, etc. that need to be cut. They're small trees. ANYWAY: When I came home there was a perfect Christmas tree leaning against my deck. The firewood that was outside had been moved, now stacked in the wood shed. AND, amazing is this: there's crushed stone on about half of my driveway. This was a huge surprise, and I pondered a while about who did it. I settled on Rush & Annie, though, as my generous friends who always know what's important to me. There was 3" of snow when I got home, so I couldn't fully appreciate the driveway's new look. It's raining now, though, and I can see what a work of art it is.
I spent the morning at home today, waiting fr Mr. Chimney Cleaner to come. He was due at 10:45 so I hung out from 4:30 until then. I don't know why I get up at that hour, but if I'm awake and can't get back to sleep I figure I might as well get up. So there I am, enjoying my house that has finally warmed up, and BINGO the power went out. We're having big winds here, and apparently in spite of the best efforts of the power company, I guess a tree limb fell on the line. It's only my house, one other house, and the camps below that got knocked. I had to wait for the stove to be clean and ready, but as soon as I could I built a wonderful fire. I got more instructions on how to burn wood--each time he comes I learn a little more. He's putting me on the Call List, says I need cleaning twice a year. Sort of like the dentist, huh.
I don't mind the power thing too much, I can change things to get by without water, but I worry about the cellar. The sump pump can only pump when there's electricity. If it doesn't pump, the cellar fills with water (like, really fills--5' or more) and my pump is underwater. It's not a submersible pump, but I've been lucky in the past and it still works when it dries out. Let's hope the power's on when I get home. It should surprise the dogs, the television was on, as were most of the lights in the living room.
Wish me luck.
thanksgiving 2010 003
Librarian Niece and family friend from Rockford. She left the Midwest in a hurry, too. She's officially retired but works as a consultant, teaching businessmen all sorts of politically correct things. She's joining the Peace Corps and will be in Equador for 2 years, leaving the US in June. Equador, hmmm, let's see--does it snow there? Ice? Frozen pumps? or just black flies.
thanksgiving 2010 002
No, we didn't name ours before they went into the pot. Liza usually has a specific lobster she's planning for each of us. "Let's see ... you get this one ..."
thanksgiving 2010 008
Soccer fields where Mark & I walk the dogs at dawn. Run, Chances run! Tess, you look like Secretariat!
thanksgiving 2010 012
Prime piece of real estate, that part of the couch. No "I was here first" with these two, they're sisters.
thanksgiving 2010 015
It's all about the sock. SOCK! SOCK! TESS HAS A SOCK! She has a real devotion to socks--they don't have to be mine, they don't have to be clean, or dirty, or white, she just loves socks. Will travel to other rooms in search of them. Is incredibly proud when she succeeds in her quest for mouth fodder. She never chews, just carries around, wagging her tail so hard that her butt wiggles.
thanksgiving 2010 016
They look like waterfowl, heading the same direction. Or like dolphins. Or like fish. Or like 2 dogs who are devoted to each other
thanksgiving 2010 027
Getting ready for the bird. This is only a fraction of the glassware and silver that ended up on the table. Flowers by Mark, of course.
thanksgiving 2010 036
Mark making a comment to Liza while he's doing his daily crossword. What he learned this visit: BMW does NOT stand for British Motor Works.
thanksgiving 2010 055
Such a long stretch of beach with nothing on it. Mark & I walked the dogs on the beach one morning. They both (the dogs, that is) waded, Chances went in farther than Tess. Chances was disappointed to discover that someone put salt in the water. She walked a little further down and tried again. Rats! It's all bad.
obligatory shot
Must take one of these every time you go to the beach: wave waves in the sand with rocks.
nice place you have here
One of the most-photographed houses in my family. It looks great, very stately. Mark & I don't usually walk all the way to the house. Neither of us speaks up about turning around, but we both get socked by the wind, so when I say "OK, we can go back now" we're both pleased. The dogs don't care, it's all good to them.
Ice in
Here's what I saw on the way to work Monday--ice on the river. Just a little, to let us know what season we're approaching.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Yes, it's Friday
This week went by quickly. Went by? As in walked past me? Anyway, it seemed like a short week. Maybe because I had a little time off the other morning. I still didn't make it to the dump, no matter how many times I vowed to. One dump takes metal for recycling, the other takes clothes. Just what one needs, two dumps to keep track of. I know the hours of both dumps, you know, the sort of information we need to commit to memory.
I visited my doctor yesterday--he has my blood tested and it reveals all sorts of things. Like, my cholesterol (bad) level is down. I'm pre-diabetic (just barely). I have sinusitis (YES--an explanation for my daily headaches, and even better, a cure). I LOST WEIGHT. Seven pounds, add that to the 5 I lost before that. It's such a slow process, weight loss. I'm counting points (pretty much--at least I know how many points I'm supposed to eat every day). WW is a great program and I'm really pleased with my ability to stick to it. Especially now that my food and alcohol-obsessed summer friends have left.
I started weaving baskets again, tentatively. There is one kind that everyone likes, woven with round reed, which I'm not very familiar with. I lost the pattern for this design and I've been trying to re-create it. Without much success, until the other night when I finally figured out what I was doing wrong. So I have 5 that are not good and one that is perfect. Strive for perfection, always. Anyway, they don't take much time to weave and I can get plenty done this weekend. Merry Christmas, everyone.
I'm gearing up for my Thanksgiving trek to RI. I like T-giving, one of my favorite holidays because it's simple and straight-forward. Food, it's all about food. Oh yeah, we're supposed to give thanks. For the food I guess. I'll be with my mother, my niece, maybe a good friend from the past who keeps in touch with and helps out my mother. I haven't seen Meredith in many years so I'm hoping she comes. She lives in D.C. If she comes, I'll probably sleep on the font porch, a favored place of my sister's and mine. It's chilly, for sure, this time of year, but it's nearly sleeping outdoors, with big windows facing the garden and woods. Like the "back room," where we sleep in the off-season. Both are wonderful places to sleep and I'm lucky my mother lives in such a pretty spot with has nice places where one can enjoy the woods.
My mother is old, 84, and now seems like an old person. She's always been youthful and ageless. It's odd to think that I can remember when my mother was as old as I am now. And even younger. When she was my age her husband had recently died and she had to figure out how to make enough money to live on. He took his Social Security earnings with him, so she was stuck and frantic. That's an awful thing, I think, to have a loss like that and not have enough money as well. I guess many Americans face that these days. I'm a lucky ducky, a good job I really like, good benefits, secure employment, maybe near retirement with a good income. maybe. As one friend says (too much) "time will tell."
My father was 12 years older than my mother (he was a teacher, she a student at Mt Holyoke College when they met) so people often thought he was her father. He looked old, bald with gray hair early in life. She looked young, always young. When my siblings and I went out with my father sometimes people said "Isn't it nice of Grandfather to take his grandchildren shopping." I was irritated to hear that--my grandfathers were very different from my father, plus I could sense the disappointment my father felt when people took away his pride in his children. Wow, talk about projecting! Who knows if he cared. But he was a bit indignant.
My father was an interesting person. Many fascinating details of his life, most centering around his impressive intellect. Genius? I think that's a good term. He did some amazing things and my mother is now chronicling his life and achievements. He developed a method for teaching military personnel Morse Code that was used for decades. What I knew about his ability to train was his work with our dogs--he taught one to roll over clockwise, counterclockwise, to sneeze when he wanted to go out, to sit up (well, every dachshund knows how to sit up, it comes with that body shape), speak softly--just about everything but drive a car. He was a Skinnerian, so I was well aware of the effectiveness of positive reinforcement as a young child. Sometitmes the dogs outsmarted him, though, the same way my dogs try to do with me. Give them a treat for pottying outside and they soon learn to go outside, turn around and come in for a treat. Then go to the basement and poop. At least my dogs can't go to a basement. They stare at me when they come in, though, and I don't know when I developed the practice of rewarding them for coming in the door.
I keep thinking of a good dog name for my next dog. Tempting fate? I don't know, and it's probably a disloyal thing to do. Chances is 11 and in great shape, no reason to think she'll die soon. Except that I've had 2 Labs die of cancer at 11. C. has better breeding, though, so maybe she'll live to 15 the way another of my dogs did. Tess is 7 and the only thing I worry about with her is her getting hit by a car. She chases the few cars we come across in the neighborhood (as opposed to Chances, who walks toward them blindly--literally blindly, her eyesight is getting worse). Plus she accompanies strangers through the bog whenever she can. It's been suggested that I have a tag made that says "I'm Tess the Bog Dog and I know my way home." She's so great--sweet and pretty--that I worry someone will take her home. She has a tag that tells everything about her except her birth date and weight. That works pretty much to convince people that she has a home, though many worry about her ability to find her way to the house next door to the bog.
Oh how I do go on about my dogs. I never think of them as substitutes for children, nor do I consider them to be part of my family. They're my beloved pets and they're loyal and loving, enjoying my life along with me.
And now it's off to see a new dentist. He says I have beautiful teeth. Probably from a dentist's point of view that's true.
I visited my doctor yesterday--he has my blood tested and it reveals all sorts of things. Like, my cholesterol (bad) level is down. I'm pre-diabetic (just barely). I have sinusitis (YES--an explanation for my daily headaches, and even better, a cure). I LOST WEIGHT. Seven pounds, add that to the 5 I lost before that. It's such a slow process, weight loss. I'm counting points (pretty much--at least I know how many points I'm supposed to eat every day). WW is a great program and I'm really pleased with my ability to stick to it. Especially now that my food and alcohol-obsessed summer friends have left.
I started weaving baskets again, tentatively. There is one kind that everyone likes, woven with round reed, which I'm not very familiar with. I lost the pattern for this design and I've been trying to re-create it. Without much success, until the other night when I finally figured out what I was doing wrong. So I have 5 that are not good and one that is perfect. Strive for perfection, always. Anyway, they don't take much time to weave and I can get plenty done this weekend. Merry Christmas, everyone.
I'm gearing up for my Thanksgiving trek to RI. I like T-giving, one of my favorite holidays because it's simple and straight-forward. Food, it's all about food. Oh yeah, we're supposed to give thanks. For the food I guess. I'll be with my mother, my niece, maybe a good friend from the past who keeps in touch with and helps out my mother. I haven't seen Meredith in many years so I'm hoping she comes. She lives in D.C. If she comes, I'll probably sleep on the font porch, a favored place of my sister's and mine. It's chilly, for sure, this time of year, but it's nearly sleeping outdoors, with big windows facing the garden and woods. Like the "back room," where we sleep in the off-season. Both are wonderful places to sleep and I'm lucky my mother lives in such a pretty spot with has nice places where one can enjoy the woods.
My mother is old, 84, and now seems like an old person. She's always been youthful and ageless. It's odd to think that I can remember when my mother was as old as I am now. And even younger. When she was my age her husband had recently died and she had to figure out how to make enough money to live on. He took his Social Security earnings with him, so she was stuck and frantic. That's an awful thing, I think, to have a loss like that and not have enough money as well. I guess many Americans face that these days. I'm a lucky ducky, a good job I really like, good benefits, secure employment, maybe near retirement with a good income. maybe. As one friend says (too much) "time will tell."
My father was 12 years older than my mother (he was a teacher, she a student at Mt Holyoke College when they met) so people often thought he was her father. He looked old, bald with gray hair early in life. She looked young, always young. When my siblings and I went out with my father sometimes people said "Isn't it nice of Grandfather to take his grandchildren shopping." I was irritated to hear that--my grandfathers were very different from my father, plus I could sense the disappointment my father felt when people took away his pride in his children. Wow, talk about projecting! Who knows if he cared. But he was a bit indignant.
My father was an interesting person. Many fascinating details of his life, most centering around his impressive intellect. Genius? I think that's a good term. He did some amazing things and my mother is now chronicling his life and achievements. He developed a method for teaching military personnel Morse Code that was used for decades. What I knew about his ability to train was his work with our dogs--he taught one to roll over clockwise, counterclockwise, to sneeze when he wanted to go out, to sit up (well, every dachshund knows how to sit up, it comes with that body shape), speak softly--just about everything but drive a car. He was a Skinnerian, so I was well aware of the effectiveness of positive reinforcement as a young child. Sometitmes the dogs outsmarted him, though, the same way my dogs try to do with me. Give them a treat for pottying outside and they soon learn to go outside, turn around and come in for a treat. Then go to the basement and poop. At least my dogs can't go to a basement. They stare at me when they come in, though, and I don't know when I developed the practice of rewarding them for coming in the door.
I keep thinking of a good dog name for my next dog. Tempting fate? I don't know, and it's probably a disloyal thing to do. Chances is 11 and in great shape, no reason to think she'll die soon. Except that I've had 2 Labs die of cancer at 11. C. has better breeding, though, so maybe she'll live to 15 the way another of my dogs did. Tess is 7 and the only thing I worry about with her is her getting hit by a car. She chases the few cars we come across in the neighborhood (as opposed to Chances, who walks toward them blindly--literally blindly, her eyesight is getting worse). Plus she accompanies strangers through the bog whenever she can. It's been suggested that I have a tag made that says "I'm Tess the Bog Dog and I know my way home." She's so great--sweet and pretty--that I worry someone will take her home. She has a tag that tells everything about her except her birth date and weight. That works pretty much to convince people that she has a home, though many worry about her ability to find her way to the house next door to the bog.
Oh how I do go on about my dogs. I never think of them as substitutes for children, nor do I consider them to be part of my family. They're my beloved pets and they're loyal and loving, enjoying my life along with me.
And now it's off to see a new dentist. He says I have beautiful teeth. Probably from a dentist's point of view that's true.
nov 2010 snow 002
Someone should tell her that Halloween was LAST month.
She always looks grumpy, even when she's all cuddly and warm. Well, maybe not so grumpy when she's eating. One of the few times she purrs.
She always looks grumpy, even when she's all cuddly and warm. Well, maybe not so grumpy when she's eating. One of the few times she purrs.
nov 2010 snow 004
Not much, really--a dusting. Well, slightly more than a dusting. More like wet flour than confectioner's sugar.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Special day
On Nov. 17, 1973, President Nixon told an Associated Press managing editors meeting in Orlando, Fla., that ``people have got to know whether or not their president is a crook. Well, I'm not a crook.''
Yeah, right--
Yeah, right--
Friday, November 12, 2010
early november 2010 016
A balsam auditioning to be someone's Christmas tree. Maybe in a decade or so, little thing.
We always had balsam Christmas trees--my father, having grown up here, knew that was the only appropriate species. It's all in the smell, it's sure not in the shape or fullness of the tree. I keep up with the tradition, and lately have been finding trees on my land that suffice. I have to pick ones with small trunks, of course--a chainsaw is yet to show up among my tools. I have other saws, for sure--reciprocating, jigsaw, hand saws of all kinds, circular. Just point me in the direction of a tree needing pruning, or a piece of lumber in need of cutting. My friends who are avid tree cutters will be cutting some more trees on my land, to improve my once-wonderful view of Whiteface and the lake.
We always had balsam Christmas trees--my father, having grown up here, knew that was the only appropriate species. It's all in the smell, it's sure not in the shape or fullness of the tree. I keep up with the tradition, and lately have been finding trees on my land that suffice. I have to pick ones with small trunks, of course--a chainsaw is yet to show up among my tools. I have other saws, for sure--reciprocating, jigsaw, hand saws of all kinds, circular. Just point me in the direction of a tree needing pruning, or a piece of lumber in need of cutting. My friends who are avid tree cutters will be cutting some more trees on my land, to improve my once-wonderful view of Whiteface and the lake.
early november 2010 022
How primeval this looks. All it is is branches covered with lichen. We have lichen everywhere. I have a book to identify lichens, but really--how many plants do I want to know the names of?
early november 2010 027
From a recent trip home from Peru. Apple trees, pretty much the last of fall color. The beech trees are still a little colorful, brownish. They hold onto most of their leaves through winter. The rattling of the dried leaves sometimes is the only sound you hear in the winter woods. Snow muffles every sound, pretty much. It's amazing how silent the world can be. And how noisy leaves on trees are.
early november 2010 032
See how pretty the blanket of color is? That's alfalfa in the foreground, with an orchard in the background. Those apple trees just won't let go. Lucky for us.
veterans day 2010 002
Excluding my dogs, the most photographed place in my life. These days, anyway. Silver Lake Mtn. is a close second, if not a tie.
veterans day 2010 007
What a dreary-looking plant. Not pleased with the change of seasons. This is either sheep laurel or Labrador tea--it's hard to tell them apart until they bloom. I just liked the looks of these plants, they look so miserable, so glass-half-empty like. Oh, the poor things. I always attach human, or at least animal, attributes to plants, recognizing them as living things. That's why the flowers I grow never get very big--because I can't stand to thin the seedlings. I'm not a killer at heart.
veterans day 2010 008
Other things, like alder trees, feel pretty good about the change of seasons and look cheery.
veterans day 2010 009
That, of course, is Chances. Walking home from the bog. That's my driveway on the right, cleverly disguised as a rutted road that goes nowhere.
veterans day 2010 012
The end of the driveway, looking toward the road. You can barely see it here, but I now have a good view of Silver Lake Mountain from my driveway. There's something to be said for clear-cutting.
veterans day 2010 013
Looking straight ahead, to the bottom part of the circular drive. This is what we call a "seasonal road." In Dept. of Transportation terms this means the road is closed from November to April. In my terms it means that this part of the driveway doesn't get plowed.
veterans day 2010 015
And here's what you see at the end of the driveway. Maybe you envisiioned a cozy cottage in the woods, but when you make up your own blueprint you never know what you'll get. We made up the design of the house as we went along--like, before the upstairs flooring was completely done I said "Why don't we have a cathedral ceiling in the living room & leave the rest of the second floor open?" That was instead of making the master bedroom really huge and interesting. With a good view. There's not a good view from anywhere you could put the bed, and it's important to me to be able to see something nice when I wake up and/or go to sleep. I don't sleep in the master bedroom anymore, I sleep downstairs in what we called the studio. It was intended to be the room for my basket weaving, but I use it as my bedroom. It has a huge window that looks out into the woods and I really like that. It has no closet, and I really don't like that. I use the master bedroom as a storage unit, and yesterday I realized there's not even room in there to put shelves to put things on to get them off the floor. I have my work cut out for me, but am feeling sligtly motivated.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Betsy
Cute little thing, isn't she. This is my school picture from kindergarden. I went to school in AuSable Forks, our class was held in the basement of the church. My sister & brother got to go to the real school.
When we arrived in ASF we were fresh from Turkey, where we'd lived for nearly 4 years. We came by ship, of course, moving our entire household. We watched the film "Heidi" on board and what I heard in my tiny little mind was that the girl's name was "Clora," as opposed to her real name of Clara, pronounced with a British accent. When my sister & I were taken to meet our teachers I told mine that my name was Clora. "What an interesting name," was the response. Well, truly, is Betsy much better?
One day most of the dogs in the neighborhood (i.e., town) came barreling down the steps into the classroom. How cool was that!
This was in the days when the paper mill was still running and dumping chemicals in the river. The river divides the town and you cross a bridge to get from my grandfather's house to school. I walked to school (I remember it as walking by myself--maybe my siblings had different schedules) and in the morning the river would be one color, in the afternoon it'd be another color. Ah, the magic of pollution. In history this river is known as The Rainbow River, or The Magic River.
One day I got to school before anyone else arrived. This did not please me, instead I freaked out. Who knew that someone who couldn't stand to be alone there would end up living such a peaceful and happy solitary life? Anyway, I ran home to tell my mother that there wasn't anyone else there (this was before I would have though "yahoo! no one's here, there must not be any school today). She told me (as I recall) that someone has to be the first one there. My life was spared more trauma, though, because I was late when I went back, so everyone else was there.
When we arrived in ASF we were fresh from Turkey, where we'd lived for nearly 4 years. We came by ship, of course, moving our entire household. We watched the film "Heidi" on board and what I heard in my tiny little mind was that the girl's name was "Clora," as opposed to her real name of Clara, pronounced with a British accent. When my sister & I were taken to meet our teachers I told mine that my name was Clora. "What an interesting name," was the response. Well, truly, is Betsy much better?
One day most of the dogs in the neighborhood (i.e., town) came barreling down the steps into the classroom. How cool was that!
This was in the days when the paper mill was still running and dumping chemicals in the river. The river divides the town and you cross a bridge to get from my grandfather's house to school. I walked to school (I remember it as walking by myself--maybe my siblings had different schedules) and in the morning the river would be one color, in the afternoon it'd be another color. Ah, the magic of pollution. In history this river is known as The Rainbow River, or The Magic River.
One day I got to school before anyone else arrived. This did not please me, instead I freaked out. Who knew that someone who couldn't stand to be alone there would end up living such a peaceful and happy solitary life? Anyway, I ran home to tell my mother that there wasn't anyone else there (this was before I would have though "yahoo! no one's here, there must not be any school today). She told me (as I recall) that someone has to be the first one there. My life was spared more trauma, though, because I was late when I went back, so everyone else was there.
dogs on couch 11 2010 021
Very powerful indeed. Lucky thing they're devoted to each other--they take up less room on the couch, they share a cage (don't call the authorities, it's Chances' fault for py-rootin' all over the house), they lick each other's bowls (bet you thought I was going to say something else, huh), they run like steeds pulling a chariot, they just love each other a lot. Or the canine version of love, if there is something like that.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
bog october 2010 002
The boardwalk in the bog, of course. I walk the dogs there every weekend. Yes, that's snow. Looks more like confectioners' sugar, though. I walked it nearly every morning in the summer, but it's too dark now. Who wants to take a morning walk using a flashlight? Well, The Ladies wouldn't mind, of this I'm sure.
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