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.
Friday, November 19, 2010
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.
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