This was the ice on Tuesday (4/14) morning around 7:00. The last of the ice, the last day.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
um ... duh
from today's Washington Post:
THE INTERIOR Department has until Monday to decide whether to defend or discard a federal rule passed late in the Bush administration to allow visitors to national parks and refuges to carry loaded and concealed weapons. A federal judge found last month that the Bush administration had acted rashly in its zeal to enact the gun provision and temporarily put the rule on hold. Interior Secretary Ken Salazar should permanently reject the initiative.
from today's Washington Post:
THE INTERIOR Department has until Monday to decide whether to defend or discard a federal rule passed late in the Bush administration to allow visitors to national parks and refuges to carry loaded and concealed weapons. A federal judge found last month that the Bush administration had acted rashly in its zeal to enact the gun provision and temporarily put the rule on hold. Interior Secretary Ken Salazar should permanently reject the initiative.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
sisters
I like this picture of my sister. Doesn't she look great? I like the way her hair is blowing in the wind. She's always had great hair--nice color, and she can grow it long. My hair stops growing at a certain length now, most unattractive. Right now I'm wearing it in a pretty icky way, haven't found anything I like to do with it. What I really want to do is shave my head.
When we were little--and into our pre-teens (or 'tweens, in libspeak) people would ask if we were twins. duh. We NEVER looked much alike. She looks like our father, I look like our mother. or sort of.
I had beautiful long silky light blonde wavy hair when I was very young, like 2-3. Once, in Turkey, we were playing beauty parlor with friends. My friend cut my wonderful hair off. My sister's friend used pretend scissors, my friend (a realist) used real ones. I remember what happened when my mother came home that afternoon: she screamed when she saw me. She had been very proud of my beautiful hair. She said this: "Do you know what I have to do? I have to cut it to even it out. THERE'S NOT ENOUGH LEFT TO CUT!" She was actually quite nice about it. All the pictures of me after that show a big chunk taken out of the front, where most people have bangs. But I'm always smiling, a big goofy grin.
I think my parents were happy when we lived in Turkey. I don't think their children were. I remember dark haired, dark-skinned men grabbing for me (and my sister) because they never saw blue-eyed, blonde haired little girls. They liked to touch us. And they loved to jump on our car because they had NEVER seen an automobile, out in the villages where my father loved to go. Molly and I begged to ride in our friends' VW bug because the men couldn't grab onto it, the way they could our '49 Plymouth station wagon. Which was a beautiful car, by the way.
I wish I had nicer memories of Turkey.
When we were little--and into our pre-teens (or 'tweens, in libspeak) people would ask if we were twins. duh. We NEVER looked much alike. She looks like our father, I look like our mother. or sort of.
I had beautiful long silky light blonde wavy hair when I was very young, like 2-3. Once, in Turkey, we were playing beauty parlor with friends. My friend cut my wonderful hair off. My sister's friend used pretend scissors, my friend (a realist) used real ones. I remember what happened when my mother came home that afternoon: she screamed when she saw me. She had been very proud of my beautiful hair. She said this: "Do you know what I have to do? I have to cut it to even it out. THERE'S NOT ENOUGH LEFT TO CUT!" She was actually quite nice about it. All the pictures of me after that show a big chunk taken out of the front, where most people have bangs. But I'm always smiling, a big goofy grin.
I think my parents were happy when we lived in Turkey. I don't think their children were. I remember dark haired, dark-skinned men grabbing for me (and my sister) because they never saw blue-eyed, blonde haired little girls. They liked to touch us. And they loved to jump on our car because they had NEVER seen an automobile, out in the villages where my father loved to go. Molly and I begged to ride in our friends' VW bug because the men couldn't grab onto it, the way they could our '49 Plymouth station wagon. Which was a beautiful car, by the way.
I wish I had nicer memories of Turkey.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
neopolitan dog
There are healthy, happy stray dogs in my sister's neighborhood in Naples. This is one of them, taking a nap. She hangs out in front of the pastry shop. Sometimes she takes the train to another neighborhood, stays there a few hours, gets back on the train & gets off at her regular stop. I think she's a great dog.
The caption on Molly's Flickr says that this is Nerina, and the people in the neighborhood call her The Walrus. What a cutie. Nerina, not Molly. Although Molly is pretty cute, too.
The caption on Molly's Flickr says that this is Nerina, and the people in the neighborhood call her The Walrus. What a cutie. Nerina, not Molly. Although Molly is pretty cute, too.
"It took us a couple of days because I like to know what I’m talking about before I speak."
PRESIDENT OBAMA, defending his decision to wait a few days before expressing anger over bonuses paid to executives of the insurance giant A.I.G.
What's wrong with this picture? How do we know this man is our president? America wants someone who wants to know what he's talking about? Since when? Oh, wait, THAT one's not president any more.
PRESIDENT OBAMA, defending his decision to wait a few days before expressing anger over bonuses paid to executives of the insurance giant A.I.G.
What's wrong with this picture? How do we know this man is our president? America wants someone who wants to know what he's talking about? Since when? Oh, wait, THAT one's not president any more.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
ice sounds
ice sounds
Originally uploaded by woodsrun
Friday, March 20, 2009
driveway mar 09 004
This is the view my brother wanted me to have from my house. Except he would have cut down the lone pine blocking the view of the summit of the mountain (Silver Lake Mtn.) This is the end of my driveway, complete with my car. The neighborhood bully (named for my fish) has sort of clear cut the huge lot across from my land. Rumors run rampant about his plans--a trailer park, one acre lots, etc.
Anyway, I'm parking at the end of the driveway because it's mud season. Early mud season. And I need an early mud season this year. I even saw a flock of geese flying over my house yesterday.
I've had a bad morning. While Patty was helping me get my coffee I said, "You take such good care of me," then I cried because Ken would answer that with "If I don't, who will?" I cried all the way to work, knowing that of course I take care of myself, but Ken helped me in so many ways. He taught me things about life, about how to fix things, about work ethic, about how to behave (like, tact), about how to enjoy what you have ("There's people who'd pay a lot of money to have what we have here"), about caring for your tools (and belongings), about NOT procrastinating, about my neighborhood, about poverty, about how things work--it's a long list. I miss him more than I could have imagined.
Anyway, I'm parking at the end of the driveway because it's mud season. Early mud season. And I need an early mud season this year. I even saw a flock of geese flying over my house yesterday.
I've had a bad morning. While Patty was helping me get my coffee I said, "You take such good care of me," then I cried because Ken would answer that with "If I don't, who will?" I cried all the way to work, knowing that of course I take care of myself, but Ken helped me in so many ways. He taught me things about life, about how to fix things, about work ethic, about how to behave (like, tact), about how to enjoy what you have ("There's people who'd pay a lot of money to have what we have here"), about caring for your tools (and belongings), about NOT procrastinating, about my neighborhood, about poverty, about how things work--it's a long list. I miss him more than I could have imagined.
who wouldn't like it?
This is what I see from the desk where I work in Saranac Lake. It's the "research area" in the Adirondack Room. I can't let anyone know how nice it is, and I have to pretend to complain about the things I catalog--so no one will know how much I enjoy being there. Like, this week I cataloged about 15 editions of "The Adirondacks," covering the late 1800's through 1901. Monotonous, but I could always look up and see this.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
upstream
Looking upstream from the road. My brother took pictures from this spot. This is a sad time of year. Brother, father, Ken died around this time. swell--they all had to pick spring.
favorite view
As Martha says, here's a sign of spring. Ice is out, though this is a slow, shallow brook. Alder Brook. One of my favorite views, tells me what season we're in/approaching. On my way home from Saranac Lake. Yesterday. Not too bad, not to sad. Until I got home, then I hated it, but I was lonely. I'm soooo not used to being lonely.
catch it fast
All I see in these pictures is the space between my front teeth. And this is after I spent a lot of money having them bonded. Oh well, we all see things we don't like about ourselves. Figuratively and literally. I look as if I just woke up. I think I did. Messy bookcase behind me. Messy house surrounding me.
You have to be a proud citizen:
"Washington is all in a tizzy over who’s at fault. Some say it’s the Democrats’ fault, the Republicans’ fault. Listen, I’ll take responsibility, I’m the president."
PRESIDENT OBAMA, over executive bonuses at the American International Group.
"Washington is all in a tizzy over who’s at fault. Some say it’s the Democrats’ fault, the Republicans’ fault. Listen, I’ll take responsibility, I’m the president."
PRESIDENT OBAMA, over executive bonuses at the American International Group.
This earned me a free cup of coffee at my coffee place this morning:
From the Plattsburgh Press-Republican--
Challengers victorious
Placid, Port Henry mayors defeated in Wednesday's vote
From the Plattsburgh Press-Republican--
Challengers victorious
Placid, Port Henry mayors defeated in Wednesday's vote
LAKE PLACID — Incumbent mayors in Lake Placid and Port Henry were defeated in village elections Wednesday night.
LAKE PLACID
In Lake Placid village elections, the Republican trio on a slate ticket won by a comfortable margin.
Republican Craig Randall, a retired NBT Bank vice president, earned the mayor's seat with 463 votes, beating incumbent Jamie Rogers with 233 votes and Peter Roy with 192, both independents.
Randall celebrated with trustee winners Republicans Zay Curtis and Art Devlin as results came in.
"It's been a long day, but a good day. It's a good day for Lake Placid," Randall said.
"I think the voters came through with what they told us they wanted over the last several months. They're interested in new leadership, and we will bring a different style to the board."
Randall said Lake Placid could look forward to having a team with financial experience on the board at a time when taxpayers are concerned about the economic future.
"Our job is to help the village get through these difficult times. There is a lot of excitement in the people around us."
Rogers was grateful for the term spent as mayor of Lake Placid.
"The first thing I want to do is thank the residents of this community for providing me with one of the greatest opportunities of my life over the last four years."
He said municipal leadership in Lake Placid is top flight.
"What I'm really going to miss about this job is working with the department heads. They care about the community, they care about their department, and they care about the employees."
Rogers said he would work steadily with Randall over the next few weeks toward a smooth transition.
"We've got to sit down together and keep the ball rolling. It's about the community."
Am I a real bitch for being happy about this? But I mean really, if you had your choice between a banker and a forester for mayor, which would you choose? I always thought it was a fluke that he was elected in the first place.
Anyway, it's hard to believe any incumbent has much of a chance for relection these days. Except in my town, inhabited by moo-moos who support idiots.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
My friend
You can imagine the pain and sadness I feel when I see this. I'm having a hard time, but life goes on. As my mother says, I'm a strong person.
The weekend was full of wonderful people, all feeling the same loss. The funeral was miserable and I hated leaving him behind. He looked terrible, like an oil painting, but the undertaker had his work cut out for him. Ken looked horrible in his final weeks.
Anyway, I'll surviive and I'll be fine. Eventually.
Linda and I got to spend a lot of time together--she drove from Michigan and spent several days here. I look forward to summer, when we can spend more time together.
I'm not lonely, I just miss him. Very much.
The weekend was full of wonderful people, all feeling the same loss. The funeral was miserable and I hated leaving him behind. He looked terrible, like an oil painting, but the undertaker had his work cut out for him. Ken looked horrible in his final weeks.
Anyway, I'll surviive and I'll be fine. Eventually.
Linda and I got to spend a lot of time together--she drove from Michigan and spent several days here. I look forward to summer, when we can spend more time together.
I'm not lonely, I just miss him. Very much.
linda mar 09 004
We walked down to Linda's camp (Trail's End). The snow was granular and not too deep but still a little tricky to get through, fairly deep. That's Erdvilas, with Linda doing a little dance. And BARE GROUND behind them.
linda mar 09 009
Linda loves being at Silver Lake, and of course especially loves being on her shoreline. The sun was a little warm but it was a cold day.
After this we went to dinner at a fancy restaurant, our first time there. It was The Brown Dog, in Lake Placid. Very funny, Linda ordered from the part of the menu that had no prices next to the meals. She and I were the only ones who laughed at the price of her meal. Let's just say the first digit was higher than a 3. It was worth it, though, as a reward for a very rough weekend.
After this we went to dinner at a fancy restaurant, our first time there. It was The Brown Dog, in Lake Placid. Very funny, Linda ordered from the part of the menu that had no prices next to the meals. She and I were the only ones who laughed at the price of her meal. Let's just say the first digit was higher than a 3. It was worth it, though, as a reward for a very rough weekend.
silver lake mtn
It was worth the walk, though--the ice is getting dark. It was a nice "spring" day. HAH! Do not be fooled, oh grasshopper. Today it was 11 degrees, due to be -1 tonight. At least the mud froze, though spring will bring it back. Must take the good with the bad. What a beautiful day it was.
We went inside Trail's End (lower camp) and had a snort of rum, sitting in the living room. It was just like summer, as if we'd never left. Except it was 40 degrees inside. So nice to be there, sitting together and enjoying it.
We went inside Trail's End (lower camp) and had a snort of rum, sitting in the living room. It was just like summer, as if we'd never left. Except it was 40 degrees inside. So nice to be there, sitting together and enjoying it.
white moose
My friend Doug sent me some pictures of these two white moose, found in the Upper Penn. of Michigan. How cool is this?
Monday, March 02, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
| You Would Win Best Supporting Actor / Actress |
 There's no one quite like you. Your uniqueness leaves a strong impression on people. You are bold and willing to take risks. People may love or hate you, but at least they'll notice you. You are just different enough to make a great character actor. You can make a smaller part come alive. Believe it or not, there are times I want to be in the background, not the center of attention.--E. |
Friday, February 13, 2009
Dog Show
In case you didn't know, a Sussex spaniel named Stump won Best in Show at Westminster this week. I've always eyed Sussexes but then shook off that idea because they're just too goofy looking. He's 10 (same age as Chances) and has no gray muzzle hairs. What's with that?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
alder feb 017
I'm really fond of this view. It's on the way to Saranac Lake--to the BIG road (Rt 3) you take to SarLake, or Potsdam, or points west.
ice palace 09 001
Here's this year's ice palace in Saranac Lake. The theme is Pirates of the Adirondacks. I don't see it. There's another something built of blocks nearby that's supposed to be a pirate ship. I didn't see a pirate ship but everyone says how much they liked the ship. All I saw was a bunch of blocks piled on top of each other. No imagination, I guess.
ice palace 09 006
This is where the King and Queen of the carnival sit. Their butts get pretty cold pretty fast
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Road trips
I was thinking about different road trips I went on as a child.
Weekday mornings, when my mother taught junior high school on the other side of town (across the river) we only had one car so my father would drive her to work. I liked going along for the ride because coming home I had my father to myself and we had nice visits. He liked listening to the radio and we shared silly commercials ("Feed your doggie Thrive-O, very much alive-o, full of pep and vim. If you want a healthy pup then you better hurry up. Get Thriv-o for him." "Let Mrs. Grass make the soup in your house."). He also liked listening to Paul Harvey, probably because Paul was such a pompous ass and my father liked to mock him. I can't imagine why else. Anyway, I have nice memories of those rides.
We gave the next door neighbor wife a ride for a while. Her name was Betty Ring. They were the Rings. Betty and Gerald Ring and their daughter Carol. Carol was a red head with a bubble cut and worked at the branch library several blocks away. She walked to work every day (walked as if she had a pencil up her butt). Betty was always waiting in front of their house--like, ALWAYS, when we were ready to go. The car was parked in the garage at the back of the house--there are alleys running between each block and that's were garages are--great places for kids to play & ride bikes. Anyway, my father would get the car & drive to the front of the house and BINGO! there would be Betty Ring. Once my mother asked Betty how she knew just when to go out the door. Only someone a few feet next door would know--Betty said that Liza always raised the shade on the dining room window just before she left for work, so B. knew it was time to go. Wouldn't B.F. Skinner be proud?
Other road trips were the famous annual pilgrimages from Ill. to the Adirondacks. After summer school ended, though we later learned it was also after black fly season ended as well, we'd pack up, load up the car (early memories are of a 1957 turquoise Plymouth wagon with big fins and a 3rd seat facing the back, replaced by a 196-? purple Olds wagon that was huge and had round tailights and again, 3 seats). The dreaded day we left always started with my mother's hysteria: COME ON CHILDREN! TIME TO GET UP! She was out of control. Make lemondade (from frozen lemonade mix) in the green gallon jug, make soggy tuna sandwiches with a quart of mayo, shove them into a paper bag. Not to be touched until late in the trip. Once we got rolling she'd pass out the Dramamine. "Here, children, take your Dramamine so you won't get sick." As adults we figured out it had nothing to do with car sickness, it was the antihistamine in Dram. so we'd go to sleep. Henry always--ALWAYS got the "way back" and my sister and I shared the back seat. Sometimes the line of demarcation was half way down the middle, sometimes half way across. It was seldom a peaceful boundary--mostly because of me, I think. I was not good at sharing and I felt I could bully my sister.
We had a luggage rack (that's what they were called--this one was a metal box, open on the top) that my father covered with a tarp. Tarps were not blue plastic, they were really great, heavy and waterproof, brown, waxed and stiff canvas. The famous line, all 1000 miles of the trip was "The tarp's flapping." Spaulding never did get the hang of tying the tarp down so it wouldn't flap. We'd pull over to the side of the road and he'd fiddle with the rope to stop the flapping in THAT spot and we'd wait for the next flapping.
The famous story about a trip involves Molly's and my beloved plastic horses. We loved those horses pretty much more than the dogs. We were allowed to pick a few to take to camp, only as many as would fit in a cardboard box. Box was on top of car. On the thruway, you guesed it, the box FELL OFF. We were mortified and screamed "The horses!" Spaulding was really great (as I remember) and sympathetic, went back to get the box and handed it to us. We took each horse out, dreading whatever damage there might be to our beloveds. Can't remember which they were--Sheba, Sheik, Pride (mare), Joy (her foal), Chessie (short for Chesapeake, the palomino), Treasure (Molly's quarter horse), Reddy (my quarter horse--now proudly living on my window sill)--those must have been the favorites because I don't remember the rest. Anyway, all were safe. As I remember it, the whole plastic horse thing started when my father brought back Pride and Joy from one of his trips. Molly got Pride and I got Joy. It was when we lived in Urbana. It seemed he went on a lot of trips--later we learned he was trying to get a job. Must have been a hard time for them, but Liza, I think, made it a cheerful time for us.
We spent the night in Cleveland. Those stories are best left for another time. Like, about the aunt who gave us each $1 as a special treat, until I was the only one traveling with the family, then I got the whole $3. I think I was 16 by then.
There are other trips, good ones. I prefer to remember trips I enjoyed, I don't seem to remember ones that were unpleasant. At least not right now.
Weekday mornings, when my mother taught junior high school on the other side of town (across the river) we only had one car so my father would drive her to work. I liked going along for the ride because coming home I had my father to myself and we had nice visits. He liked listening to the radio and we shared silly commercials ("Feed your doggie Thrive-O, very much alive-o, full of pep and vim. If you want a healthy pup then you better hurry up. Get Thriv-o for him." "Let Mrs. Grass make the soup in your house."). He also liked listening to Paul Harvey, probably because Paul was such a pompous ass and my father liked to mock him. I can't imagine why else. Anyway, I have nice memories of those rides.
We gave the next door neighbor wife a ride for a while. Her name was Betty Ring. They were the Rings. Betty and Gerald Ring and their daughter Carol. Carol was a red head with a bubble cut and worked at the branch library several blocks away. She walked to work every day (walked as if she had a pencil up her butt). Betty was always waiting in front of their house--like, ALWAYS, when we were ready to go. The car was parked in the garage at the back of the house--there are alleys running between each block and that's were garages are--great places for kids to play & ride bikes. Anyway, my father would get the car & drive to the front of the house and BINGO! there would be Betty Ring. Once my mother asked Betty how she knew just when to go out the door. Only someone a few feet next door would know--Betty said that Liza always raised the shade on the dining room window just before she left for work, so B. knew it was time to go. Wouldn't B.F. Skinner be proud?
Other road trips were the famous annual pilgrimages from Ill. to the Adirondacks. After summer school ended, though we later learned it was also after black fly season ended as well, we'd pack up, load up the car (early memories are of a 1957 turquoise Plymouth wagon with big fins and a 3rd seat facing the back, replaced by a 196-? purple Olds wagon that was huge and had round tailights and again, 3 seats). The dreaded day we left always started with my mother's hysteria: COME ON CHILDREN! TIME TO GET UP! She was out of control. Make lemondade (from frozen lemonade mix) in the green gallon jug, make soggy tuna sandwiches with a quart of mayo, shove them into a paper bag. Not to be touched until late in the trip. Once we got rolling she'd pass out the Dramamine. "Here, children, take your Dramamine so you won't get sick." As adults we figured out it had nothing to do with car sickness, it was the antihistamine in Dram. so we'd go to sleep. Henry always--ALWAYS got the "way back" and my sister and I shared the back seat. Sometimes the line of demarcation was half way down the middle, sometimes half way across. It was seldom a peaceful boundary--mostly because of me, I think. I was not good at sharing and I felt I could bully my sister.
We had a luggage rack (that's what they were called--this one was a metal box, open on the top) that my father covered with a tarp. Tarps were not blue plastic, they were really great, heavy and waterproof, brown, waxed and stiff canvas. The famous line, all 1000 miles of the trip was "The tarp's flapping." Spaulding never did get the hang of tying the tarp down so it wouldn't flap. We'd pull over to the side of the road and he'd fiddle with the rope to stop the flapping in THAT spot and we'd wait for the next flapping.
The famous story about a trip involves Molly's and my beloved plastic horses. We loved those horses pretty much more than the dogs. We were allowed to pick a few to take to camp, only as many as would fit in a cardboard box. Box was on top of car. On the thruway, you guesed it, the box FELL OFF. We were mortified and screamed "The horses!" Spaulding was really great (as I remember) and sympathetic, went back to get the box and handed it to us. We took each horse out, dreading whatever damage there might be to our beloveds. Can't remember which they were--Sheba, Sheik, Pride (mare), Joy (her foal), Chessie (short for Chesapeake, the palomino), Treasure (Molly's quarter horse), Reddy (my quarter horse--now proudly living on my window sill)--those must have been the favorites because I don't remember the rest. Anyway, all were safe. As I remember it, the whole plastic horse thing started when my father brought back Pride and Joy from one of his trips. Molly got Pride and I got Joy. It was when we lived in Urbana. It seemed he went on a lot of trips--later we learned he was trying to get a job. Must have been a hard time for them, but Liza, I think, made it a cheerful time for us.
We spent the night in Cleveland. Those stories are best left for another time. Like, about the aunt who gave us each $1 as a special treat, until I was the only one traveling with the family, then I got the whole $3. I think I was 16 by then.
There are other trips, good ones. I prefer to remember trips I enjoyed, I don't seem to remember ones that were unpleasant. At least not right now.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Just a snippet
Here's a quick look at my life these days. Today we're having a BIG storm. I came to work and stayed until the bitter end. Some people scurried home early--ohmygod what if the roads are so bad I'll never get home and they'll find my body in the spring. I'm even going to my friend's house now (5:00) to shower & visit. Not wise, perhaps, but I'm not known for wisdom about driving in bad weather. And yet I always figure it out. I like to wait until later because the plows and sanders will have worked on the roads and traffic will be light (or non-existent) so I won't have to dodge other drivers.
No, I still don't have water. I've almost got the house in shape and a path cleared to the bathroom so I can stand to have someone in my house and not be mortified at what they'll see. I'll have Steve help me/do it next week. One more weekend of cleaning should do it. Plus: the bonus of enjoying my house. even without running water.
No, I still don't have water. I've almost got the house in shape and a path cleared to the bathroom so I can stand to have someone in my house and not be mortified at what they'll see. I'll have Steve help me/do it next week. One more weekend of cleaning should do it. Plus: the bonus of enjoying my house. even without running water.
boy's toys
This is the equipment being used across and down the road from my driveway. One of the strangest and longest-lasting jobs I've ever seen. That's a skidder in the foreground--used to push the trees once they've been cut down. Makes a huge mess. Meant for anyone to be able to use--there is a picture of a bunny for the pedal to go fast, and a turtle to go slow. I kid you not. The big red machine is used to load logs into trucks and to pile them into big piles. We used to call it the lobster claw. It's called a loader, but so are a lot of other pieces of equipment--sort of a generic term, I think.
end result
This is a small, small fraction of the trees that have been cut off the lot. I keep wondering where the trees are coming from and people say "Just wait until you go to your camp this spring." They're joking, of course. yeah, that's right, joking. yeah.
home sweet home
I don't know, I just like this shot. Maybe because it shows my extra, extra wood--that's the wood I bought in the fall, my last resort wood that I probably (hopefully) won't need this year. That's 4 cords. $280 worth. used to cost $35/cord. Ken has a hard time with this. What are you going to do? It is what it is.
no, really
I like it this cold, no really, I do. It was 17 so I don't know why I look so cross. I'd just been for a nice half-hour walk with the dogs and we had a great time.
warmth
Favored place is next to the wood stove, of course. Chances beat Tess to the spot. something must be done
The Wall
This is the wall I look at from my couch. Pictures of: my family (me and my sister on the ferry to Vermont, several years ago), my brother (on the ferry to Block Island several years ago--what's with ferry pictures?), Jenica on the day we delivered her to college (with the roommate who arrived with a case of Evian, which made us raise our eyebrows), my mother as a young woman, me as a kindergartner, my father holding a chair for my grandfather to cane (with the perennial Camel unfiltered in his hand), one of my friend Duncan and Ken, one of Bill, Ken and me, one of Bill and me at Bill's camp in front of a fire several years ago, me sitting on the big rock by the boat house (taken by my cousin's ex-husband the photo-journalist--we've had many discussions about who's the better photographer, our cousin or her ex-husb.) Then there are the group shots--my Ill. friends and my family. Guess that's about it. 50 points if you can match the description with the image.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Nature Girl
In spite of what follows, I am not depressed. Nor do I feel overwhelmed or unable to handle the circumstances of my life. My life is what it is and I have it under control. I am sad, that's all.
A friend of mine killed himself Friday night. It was a huge surprise to everyone who knew him (as a friend--probably not to his wife and kids). He was at home, fixing his furnace with friends, went to the garage and shot himself. Of course everyone in the neighborhood has an idea about why he did it. Cocaine. Wife having an affair. Antidepressents mixed with alcohol. Seeing a psychiatrist, depressed. the list goes on. Whatever it was, I'm sorry he did it. He was a nice man and we always shared stories about his beagle Boomer. His obituary mentions his "special friend" Boomer.
Obituaries here are really strange/funny. Do other regions mention dogs as "special friends?" or say that the person enjoyed playing solitaire, or hummed a lot to herself, or laughed at the funnies, or crocheted booties better than anyone else? It's hard not to laugh at these. Bill, Fred and I long ago decided we would write our own obituaries. I do not want my "special friends" Tess and Chances mentioned in my obit, nor do I want it said that I enjoyed lying on my couch watching television or that I was know for having a messy house or that I never weeded my garden or that I was famous for getting my car stuck in the snow.
So. Ricky's suicide has been on my mind all weekend, saddens me, puzzles me, makes me think about people who commit suicide. I had a friend in Rockford who drove herself into her garage and inhaled carbon monoxide, but she'd been depressed pretty much all her life.
Anyway, Bill and I agreed, as always, that suicide is the most selfish and rudest act of all. Enough about that.
The other thing I have accepted and am pretty much used to is that I still have no water. This is week #3 and I have developed a good routine for dealing with it. Luckily I come to work 5 days a week--fill up water jugs, wash face, etc. And I get water from Ken (he doesn't like it when I shower there so I rarely do). I have a great friend B. who has invited me to shower at her house any time, any day. I had the best visit with her family last week. Her children are just wonderful, I adore them and they feel comfortable and relaxed with me. I can't believe they are old enough to be engaged and own a truck, but children do grow up.
The cause of the water problem is unknown (or, I assure you I would have water). I tried to look in the well to see if had any water in it, or if there were ice chunks blocking the foot valve. The the well cap is frozen solid on and I can't get it off, in spite of much boiling water and torching. I quit that project. The pump has lost its prime (this means pouring 14 gallons of water, about a tablespoon at a time, down a pipe about 100 feet to the well from the house) but I don't know why. I can't stand to make someone else deal with this so here I am. Steve (Ken's caregiver), who is a contractor and knows how to do just about anything, has offered to help. Last night I said I would accept his offer "when the weather breaks." That's vague enough, no? Yes, I'll get to it. It's just so unpleasant a task. Plus my house has been in such disarray that no one could walk to the cellar. I cleaned this weekend (just because you have no water doesn't mean you have to LIVE as if you have no water). I feel much better but there is more to do.
I can't complain about the weather because everyone has had subzero temps. This winter my house refuses to warm up. Friday morning it was cold, Sat. better, Sun. almost warm. Last night it was 67 and I almost opened the door to cool it off. Ken's house is 88-90 degrees and Steve and I sweat and suffocate and sneak the door open whenever Ken goes to the bathroom.
I have good wood and plenty of it this year, and am much more responsible about taking armloads into the house every time I go outside. A grown up! I'm acting like a grown up!
Today I will think about something amazing and wonderful but I am fearful that this wonderful man will never have a chance to be President. I have no faith in the Secret Service or the 25,000 law enforcement people there. I watched the pre-inaugural party, mostly to see Springsteen and U2 and to hear Obama's speech. He's amazing. Pete Seeger was there to lead everyone singing This Land is Your Land. He's very, very old. This made me feel old and sad. Anyway, Obama was wonderful, as always, and inspiring. It was funny when the singers kept telling the crowd to STAND UP! because that's what the thousands packed in there were doing--they had no choice.
Even the Starbucks girl is thrilled and will watch the inaug. with friends. We are having a luncheon here and have permission to watch it. I'd rather watch it alone at home but I decided to risk it and watch here. I'm afraid I'll get teary. For many reasons. I can't find it in me to be proud of my country for electing this man. I'm proud of this man for convincing people to vote for him. I still know people who will not watch, who are not pleased, who have grave misgivings, who don't want the country run by the NAACP.
Leroy the fish got stuck between the pump and the side of the tank this morning. I thought he was dead, but he survived. How long had he been like that? When will he die? He is a miracle fish, and fat and greedy like his namesake.
Authority work awaits. And cataloging. Like, the DVD Yummy in my Tummy.
I'm tired of hearing that "history is being made." It's not history to me, it's just what should be happening. The front page of our local paper is all black, with a giant picture of Obama in the middle. My friend Patty said "Think they're sending a message or something?"
A friend of mine killed himself Friday night. It was a huge surprise to everyone who knew him (as a friend--probably not to his wife and kids). He was at home, fixing his furnace with friends, went to the garage and shot himself. Of course everyone in the neighborhood has an idea about why he did it. Cocaine. Wife having an affair. Antidepressents mixed with alcohol. Seeing a psychiatrist, depressed. the list goes on. Whatever it was, I'm sorry he did it. He was a nice man and we always shared stories about his beagle Boomer. His obituary mentions his "special friend" Boomer.
Obituaries here are really strange/funny. Do other regions mention dogs as "special friends?" or say that the person enjoyed playing solitaire, or hummed a lot to herself, or laughed at the funnies, or crocheted booties better than anyone else? It's hard not to laugh at these. Bill, Fred and I long ago decided we would write our own obituaries. I do not want my "special friends" Tess and Chances mentioned in my obit, nor do I want it said that I enjoyed lying on my couch watching television or that I was know for having a messy house or that I never weeded my garden or that I was famous for getting my car stuck in the snow.
So. Ricky's suicide has been on my mind all weekend, saddens me, puzzles me, makes me think about people who commit suicide. I had a friend in Rockford who drove herself into her garage and inhaled carbon monoxide, but she'd been depressed pretty much all her life.
Anyway, Bill and I agreed, as always, that suicide is the most selfish and rudest act of all. Enough about that.
The other thing I have accepted and am pretty much used to is that I still have no water. This is week #3 and I have developed a good routine for dealing with it. Luckily I come to work 5 days a week--fill up water jugs, wash face, etc. And I get water from Ken (he doesn't like it when I shower there so I rarely do). I have a great friend B. who has invited me to shower at her house any time, any day. I had the best visit with her family last week. Her children are just wonderful, I adore them and they feel comfortable and relaxed with me. I can't believe they are old enough to be engaged and own a truck, but children do grow up.
The cause of the water problem is unknown (or, I assure you I would have water). I tried to look in the well to see if had any water in it, or if there were ice chunks blocking the foot valve. The the well cap is frozen solid on and I can't get it off, in spite of much boiling water and torching. I quit that project. The pump has lost its prime (this means pouring 14 gallons of water, about a tablespoon at a time, down a pipe about 100 feet to the well from the house) but I don't know why. I can't stand to make someone else deal with this so here I am. Steve (Ken's caregiver), who is a contractor and knows how to do just about anything, has offered to help. Last night I said I would accept his offer "when the weather breaks." That's vague enough, no? Yes, I'll get to it. It's just so unpleasant a task. Plus my house has been in such disarray that no one could walk to the cellar. I cleaned this weekend (just because you have no water doesn't mean you have to LIVE as if you have no water). I feel much better but there is more to do.
I can't complain about the weather because everyone has had subzero temps. This winter my house refuses to warm up. Friday morning it was cold, Sat. better, Sun. almost warm. Last night it was 67 and I almost opened the door to cool it off. Ken's house is 88-90 degrees and Steve and I sweat and suffocate and sneak the door open whenever Ken goes to the bathroom.
I have good wood and plenty of it this year, and am much more responsible about taking armloads into the house every time I go outside. A grown up! I'm acting like a grown up!
Today I will think about something amazing and wonderful but I am fearful that this wonderful man will never have a chance to be President. I have no faith in the Secret Service or the 25,000 law enforcement people there. I watched the pre-inaugural party, mostly to see Springsteen and U2 and to hear Obama's speech. He's amazing. Pete Seeger was there to lead everyone singing This Land is Your Land. He's very, very old. This made me feel old and sad. Anyway, Obama was wonderful, as always, and inspiring. It was funny when the singers kept telling the crowd to STAND UP! because that's what the thousands packed in there were doing--they had no choice.
Even the Starbucks girl is thrilled and will watch the inaug. with friends. We are having a luncheon here and have permission to watch it. I'd rather watch it alone at home but I decided to risk it and watch here. I'm afraid I'll get teary. For many reasons. I can't find it in me to be proud of my country for electing this man. I'm proud of this man for convincing people to vote for him. I still know people who will not watch, who are not pleased, who have grave misgivings, who don't want the country run by the NAACP.
Leroy the fish got stuck between the pump and the side of the tank this morning. I thought he was dead, but he survived. How long had he been like that? When will he die? He is a miracle fish, and fat and greedy like his namesake.
Authority work awaits. And cataloging. Like, the DVD Yummy in my Tummy.
I'm tired of hearing that "history is being made." It's not history to me, it's just what should be happening. The front page of our local paper is all black, with a giant picture of Obama in the middle. My friend Patty said "Think they're sending a message or something?"
Friday, January 16, 2009
boy howdy!
Well GOOD MORNING! This is what was going on in my living room this morning. Obviously I'm having some insulation issues this winter--the house has never been so consistently, foolishly cold.
It's not so bad going outside in this temp, as long as you're bundled up, moving, and don't have to stay out long. I brought in 3 loads of wood, fed the birds, loaded the laundry into the car. My nose hairs froze, of course.
Last night when I got home (from my good friend's house, where I took a shower and visited with her family and had a really, really nice time) the sky was totally clear. The stars were, as usual, amazing.
It's not so bad going outside in this temp, as long as you're bundled up, moving, and don't have to stay out long. I brought in 3 loads of wood, fed the birds, loaded the laundry into the car. My nose hairs froze, of course.
Last night when I got home (from my good friend's house, where I took a shower and visited with her family and had a really, really nice time) the sky was totally clear. The stars were, as usual, amazing.
cure for everything
And here's what you do! It's pretty simple but a lot of work to make it really effective. This is what's inside of my wood stove. You have to keep stoking it to keep the temp way up before you can see any progress at all.
The house was 55 when I left, 3 hours later. I thought that was pretty good. The sun was shining, which will make a huge difference--we faced the house in good solar light and there are big windows on the south side of the living room.
The house was 55 when I left, 3 hours later. I thought that was pretty good. The sun was shining, which will make a huge difference--we faced the house in good solar light and there are big windows on the south side of the living room.
Larry the Lobster
I like to have a mobile hanging from the ceiling--there's a cathedral ceiling in the living room. I've had several different ones. I made this one from wooden Christmas tree ornaments and a branch. It's sort of silly why I like having a mobile--I like to watch the lobsters float around (like, dreamily, to be a total gushball) when the warm air rises. This is dumb because it's not a good thing--it means that my warm air is going upstairs and the cold air is staying on the couch with me. But I enjoy things like this.
subzero jan 09 013
This is the shadow I see when I'm sitting on my couch, looking up. That's the shadow of an icicle on the right. They're starting to build up, which is both exciting and demoralizing. They look like dangerous weapons. And they are--twice icicles have broken my electric meter when they fell off the roof. I try to keep the dogs away from the drop zone when melting time starts.
subzero jan 09 030
Stopping by the roadside on a snowy morning. apologies to Robert Frost.
Every tree along the river was covered in rime ice this morning. It's hard to describe the sense you get when you see this. It's like the body of Michael Pollard in the movie Scrooged. Gray, yet the whitest white. The pines look really great but it's hard to get a picture of them.
Every tree along the river was covered in rime ice this morning. It's hard to describe the sense you get when you see this. It's like the body of Michael Pollard in the movie Scrooged. Gray, yet the whitest white. The pines look really great but it's hard to get a picture of them.
subzero jan 09 034
It was quiet when I shot this. The only sound was the water flowing. I'm so lucky to live here. I like this one because it shows the slush in the foreground. That's the cargo the river has right now.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
buhund
The AKC has added 3 new breeds. One isn't very interesting--the red and white irish setter--sort of like a pinto irish setter.
The other 2 are sort of bizarre. Here's the Norwegian buhund. Pretty muttly looking, no? Here's part of the description from the AKC:
"The Buhund has a lot of energy, strength and stamina. This self-appointed watch dog is also content lying at your feet at the end of the day. Broken teeth and honorable scars incurred in the line of herding duty are acceptable."
This means that it's ok if you show a dog with broken teeth and scars. Which is NOT ok if your dog is a pit bull or Rotweiller. But you can only show the broken-toothed dog if he broke them while he was herding, not while catching stones. Anyway, for some reason this dog reminds me of my sister's dog.
The other 2 are sort of bizarre. Here's the Norwegian buhund. Pretty muttly looking, no? Here's part of the description from the AKC:
"The Buhund has a lot of energy, strength and stamina. This self-appointed watch dog is also content lying at your feet at the end of the day. Broken teeth and honorable scars incurred in the line of herding duty are acceptable."
This means that it's ok if you show a dog with broken teeth and scars. Which is NOT ok if your dog is a pit bull or Rotweiller. But you can only show the broken-toothed dog if he broke them while he was herding, not while catching stones. Anyway, for some reason this dog reminds me of my sister's dog.
shepherd
This one is the Pyrenean shepherd. I looked for a picture of the merle color because they can have blue eyes. I don't like blue eyes in a dog. The merle ones look really strange. Heck, they all look sort of strange. Here's my favorite part of the official description of the breed:
"The Pyr Shep is naturally distrustful of strangers, but when well-socialized from a young age, he or she has a very lively, cheerful disposition."
Sounds like the perfect dog for a house with kittens and small children
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
another day
Can one day make a difference? I feel better today. Last night Ken reminded me that problems always have a way of solving themselves. Though I know problems often need help being solved, he and I have repeated these words of wisdom to each other countless times during the past 10 years. He also likes to say "There's no time like the present" when there's a chore to do. I like to say "Why do today what you can do tomorrow." That makes him shake his head.
Yes, today I feel better prepared to deal with whatever there is. Well, for me, I mean--I couldn't get to the TV fast enough to delete Ann Coulter this morning. Although we all know Obama is a communist, did we know Rush Limbaugh's life is in grave danger and Obama's life is in no danger at all?
Even though we're supposedly facing the end of the world, otherwise known as a big storm, tonight through Thursday, and in tandem with my old standby Dr. Rubin, I'm standing tall. Like Chuck Connors in The Rifleman (ooooh, that Johnny Crawford was cute). Now I'm back to my previous winter mantra of "It's not the cold that bothers me, it's the snow." I had reversed that during the days that I couldn't get my house warmer than 54. My house is a toasty 62 once I crank the wood stove up, though it was 51 when I got home last night. Oddly, I'm used to that temp and can (almost) stand it. I don't like it when my nose is cold, I'm not crazy--I know that's a sign that I've gone too far with this Nancy of the North business.
Must now be creative and think of useful (not just fascinating or personally entertaining) websites to link from our website. Plus something someone might actually care about for the CEFLS blog. Which, so far, no one has read.
Yes, today I feel better prepared to deal with whatever there is. Well, for me, I mean--I couldn't get to the TV fast enough to delete Ann Coulter this morning. Although we all know Obama is a communist, did we know Rush Limbaugh's life is in grave danger and Obama's life is in no danger at all?
Even though we're supposedly facing the end of the world, otherwise known as a big storm, tonight through Thursday, and in tandem with my old standby Dr. Rubin, I'm standing tall. Like Chuck Connors in The Rifleman (ooooh, that Johnny Crawford was cute). Now I'm back to my previous winter mantra of "It's not the cold that bothers me, it's the snow." I had reversed that during the days that I couldn't get my house warmer than 54. My house is a toasty 62 once I crank the wood stove up, though it was 51 when I got home last night. Oddly, I'm used to that temp and can (almost) stand it. I don't like it when my nose is cold, I'm not crazy--I know that's a sign that I've gone too far with this Nancy of the North business.
Must now be creative and think of useful (not just fascinating or personally entertaining) websites to link from our website. Plus something someone might actually care about for the CEFLS blog. Which, so far, no one has read.
mine, no mine
My sister knows the significance of this.
It's a joke between us. "Let's use my silver water pitcher." "No, let's use MY silver water pitcher."
It's a joke between us. "Let's use my silver water pitcher." "No, let's use MY silver water pitcher."
special fish
Jenica and Molly know the significance of this.
It's a special ceramic fish, different from the rest, and sits in front of my mother's plate during lobster dinners.
It's a special ceramic fish, different from the rest, and sits in front of my mother's plate during lobster dinners.
Monday, January 05, 2009
wisc july 08 132
The woman on the left, who is truly one of the most cheerful and kindest people I know, had a brain bleed last week. She's moving from intensive care today. Neurosurgeon says her "recovery" may take anywhere from 6 months to 2 years. How far she'll recover we don't know. Right now she can blink, squeeze hands... They did a tracheatomy so she could get off the respirator.
I try not to be one of those people who minimizes her issues by thinking how hard it is for other people. My life isn't great these days, and maybe Joanne's situation is the final blow--I have no water, my friend Ken is falling apart, it's cold, blahblahblah. I hate to ask for help but can't get to the well to figure out what's wrong. I don't seem to feel worthy of having running water but I know that's foolish.
Don't feel sorry for me, I always work through my struggles. I want my friend to recover but I know that my 2 friends, one here and one far away will never be the same. Which is why maybe I don't care if I never have running water again. And, of course, I'm depressed.
So I'm taking a stroll down 2008's memory lane. Good things happened and it was nice.
I try not to be one of those people who minimizes her issues by thinking how hard it is for other people. My life isn't great these days, and maybe Joanne's situation is the final blow--I have no water, my friend Ken is falling apart, it's cold, blahblahblah. I hate to ask for help but can't get to the well to figure out what's wrong. I don't seem to feel worthy of having running water but I know that's foolish.
Don't feel sorry for me, I always work through my struggles. I want my friend to recover but I know that my 2 friends, one here and one far away will never be the same. Which is why maybe I don't care if I never have running water again. And, of course, I'm depressed.
So I'm taking a stroll down 2008's memory lane. Good things happened and it was nice.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)