Typical shot of the mountain. I only took 3 pictures this time, though. This was Tuesday morning. I spent a couple of nights in the boat house this week--it was really, really hot, like 70 at 9:00. I took Tues. off as a dock day. Every summer I allow myself one personal day as a dock day. I pick a day that's predicted to be hot and sunny and I sit on the dock with my dogs. They sit on the end of the dock and when I swim Tess swims with me. This year my cousin came at the end of the afternoon and wanted to have a long, long conversation. His son threw a stick and Chances lept of the end of the dock--a flying leap. In all the years I've had her I've never seen her do that before. She did it a whole lot more times and it was a joy to watch. Then the kid started throwing big rocks, as people who like to tease dogs do.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Molly sunrise
Here's Molly's shoreline at sunrise. No matter how many times you take this picture, the light is always a little different.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Snowberry
It sure looked right to me, but I was way off. The tiny flowers I saw in the bog are not, apparently, alpine azalea, but instead are creeping snowberry. The picture I saw in the Audubon guide looked just like my blossoms, but the USDA site and all the other sites say alpine azalea is more a shrub than creeping, and snowberry is definitely creeping. It has berries, which I'll have to watch for later on, but I vaguely remember.
It sure looked right to me, but I was way off. The tiny flowers I saw in the bog are not, apparently, alpine azalea, but instead are creeping snowberry. The picture I saw in the Audubon guide looked just like my blossoms, but the USDA site and all the other sites say alpine azalea is more a shrub than creeping, and snowberry is definitely creeping. It has berries, which I'll have to watch for later on, but I vaguely remember.
Was there a weekend in there somewhere?
Slightly productive, I could describe the last two days as being. I did (AMAZ-O) paint the final coat on the trim of the big window and the first coat on the smaller window in the bedroom. I put some of the bedroom stuff back together. I hung 3 pictures, stealing my favorites from other rooms and measuring exactly from the ceiling and sides of the room so they look vaguely centered and have some sort of relationship to each other. It now looks very strange, 3 pictures nestled on one wall and 2 bare walls, but it looks like a work in progress and there's not quite the echo in the room there used to be. I planted almost all of the plants and seedlings I have. All that's left are the zinnias I started from seed. I copped out completely and put everything in containers, including the big aster plants I bought. My solution to their size, pinch them back to make them look ok in the planter. I certainly am resourceful. I mowed my lawn, including half of the portion I'd decided I wasn't going to mow this year. That took a long time but I didn't have an asthma attack afterward, which is huge progress. I vacuumed the living room and tidied up and DUSTED. I used my long-buried Swiffer, which made me laugh a lot, but which picked up the dog hair dust bunnies like nothing else. I organized some of my clothes, figuring out which pants actually fit me, so now I have more than 3 pairs of pants I can wear to work. Wonder if anyone will notice? I'm wearing a different pair of pants today. Probably no one but me cares. I sat in the sun and read Country of the pointed firs, the book-of-the-month for our book group. I talked to Linda about the dinner for 15 she cooked Sat. night and lots of other things. I stopped to see Ken Friday night (that's hardly worth reporting, that's just a regular old event). I visited with Jenica, Drew and their friends for a minute or two at camp, then returned to retrieve my retriever shortly after visit #1. Tess was thrilled to have someone in camp she could drop in on.
I cleared the hallway of all the stuff accumulated from the bedroom--stuff I am NOT returning to the bedroom. Someday my second floor will collapse from the weight of the crap I'm storing up there. I'll be sitting in the living room, watching Dirty Jobs, or Deadliest Catch, and KA-BOOM! down will come Christmas wrapping paper, clothes that are too big, clothes are are too small, books I don't want, comforters I don't use, half-caned chairs, Jamie's bureau he refuses to come for (which I'd love to be using), the blanket chest I love having, named for a distant cousin from long ago (where could I put that downstairs?)--and oh, so many more things.
It was a good weekend, and I was cheerful and felt good about things. Felt good about my house, but wished I were a bit more motivated. Realized I was more motivated than I have been in months past. Kept Tess under control with her new cable, until she bolted so hard she disconnected her collar, after wrapping my sweet Cicely plant so tightly it was an incredibly amazing 3' high bundle, like harvested wheat. Anyway she didn't walk the bog with strangers--a huge victory. I'm enjoying the Firs book. It was written long ago in the style of another time altogether, which means I have to concentrate, and some phrases I don't understand altogether, but it's a lovely read and I've been meaning to read it for years. I wouldn't have continued to read it if the group hadn't chosen it so I'm extremely happy we're reading it. Mary Lou, the precipitator of this, is in Alaska as I write this, visiting her new granddaughter (named for a fish). I'm sure she's having a wonderful time and that's a lucky baby.
This week I'll get to see some of my favorite friends, who were due in last night. At least I hope I will. They're here for Workfest 2007. Next weekend the neighborhood fills up. If it were a boat it would be up to the gunwales in the water. Linda, Ken's nephew Joe, the women from Baltimore, Sally from Baltimore, probably the people from Cambridge, probably the Gray's, my relatives for Work Weekend--and more I can't think of right now. Lots of them will stay a week to celebrate the 4th of July. The lake will be fully of boats (remember, Leroy is opening it to the public like it's never been opened before. Or is that just the way he used to have it opened...).
And now the most amazing things await my cataloging skill: Chatting cheetahs & jumping jellyfish, Big band patrol (CD), Raggedy Ann & Andy: all that we love. That's not even beginning to address the videos from our local collection--like the Town of Plattsburgh's Bicentennial 1985 celebration. There's a whole bunch from Lake Placid I have to watch before I can catalog. And people think cataloging is dull--
Slightly productive, I could describe the last two days as being. I did (AMAZ-O) paint the final coat on the trim of the big window and the first coat on the smaller window in the bedroom. I put some of the bedroom stuff back together. I hung 3 pictures, stealing my favorites from other rooms and measuring exactly from the ceiling and sides of the room so they look vaguely centered and have some sort of relationship to each other. It now looks very strange, 3 pictures nestled on one wall and 2 bare walls, but it looks like a work in progress and there's not quite the echo in the room there used to be. I planted almost all of the plants and seedlings I have. All that's left are the zinnias I started from seed. I copped out completely and put everything in containers, including the big aster plants I bought. My solution to their size, pinch them back to make them look ok in the planter. I certainly am resourceful. I mowed my lawn, including half of the portion I'd decided I wasn't going to mow this year. That took a long time but I didn't have an asthma attack afterward, which is huge progress. I vacuumed the living room and tidied up and DUSTED. I used my long-buried Swiffer, which made me laugh a lot, but which picked up the dog hair dust bunnies like nothing else. I organized some of my clothes, figuring out which pants actually fit me, so now I have more than 3 pairs of pants I can wear to work. Wonder if anyone will notice? I'm wearing a different pair of pants today. Probably no one but me cares. I sat in the sun and read Country of the pointed firs, the book-of-the-month for our book group. I talked to Linda about the dinner for 15 she cooked Sat. night and lots of other things. I stopped to see Ken Friday night (that's hardly worth reporting, that's just a regular old event). I visited with Jenica, Drew and their friends for a minute or two at camp, then returned to retrieve my retriever shortly after visit #1. Tess was thrilled to have someone in camp she could drop in on.
I cleared the hallway of all the stuff accumulated from the bedroom--stuff I am NOT returning to the bedroom. Someday my second floor will collapse from the weight of the crap I'm storing up there. I'll be sitting in the living room, watching Dirty Jobs, or Deadliest Catch, and KA-BOOM! down will come Christmas wrapping paper, clothes that are too big, clothes are are too small, books I don't want, comforters I don't use, half-caned chairs, Jamie's bureau he refuses to come for (which I'd love to be using), the blanket chest I love having, named for a distant cousin from long ago (where could I put that downstairs?)--and oh, so many more things.
It was a good weekend, and I was cheerful and felt good about things. Felt good about my house, but wished I were a bit more motivated. Realized I was more motivated than I have been in months past. Kept Tess under control with her new cable, until she bolted so hard she disconnected her collar, after wrapping my sweet Cicely plant so tightly it was an incredibly amazing 3' high bundle, like harvested wheat. Anyway she didn't walk the bog with strangers--a huge victory. I'm enjoying the Firs book. It was written long ago in the style of another time altogether, which means I have to concentrate, and some phrases I don't understand altogether, but it's a lovely read and I've been meaning to read it for years. I wouldn't have continued to read it if the group hadn't chosen it so I'm extremely happy we're reading it. Mary Lou, the precipitator of this, is in Alaska as I write this, visiting her new granddaughter (named for a fish). I'm sure she's having a wonderful time and that's a lucky baby.
This week I'll get to see some of my favorite friends, who were due in last night. At least I hope I will. They're here for Workfest 2007. Next weekend the neighborhood fills up. If it were a boat it would be up to the gunwales in the water. Linda, Ken's nephew Joe, the women from Baltimore, Sally from Baltimore, probably the people from Cambridge, probably the Gray's, my relatives for Work Weekend--and more I can't think of right now. Lots of them will stay a week to celebrate the 4th of July. The lake will be fully of boats (remember, Leroy is opening it to the public like it's never been opened before. Or is that just the way he used to have it opened...).
And now the most amazing things await my cataloging skill: Chatting cheetahs & jumping jellyfish, Big band patrol (CD), Raggedy Ann & Andy: all that we love. That's not even beginning to address the videos from our local collection--like the Town of Plattsburgh's Bicentennial 1985 celebration. There's a whole bunch from Lake Placid I have to watch before I can catalog. And people think cataloging is dull--
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Most polite request
I didn't get tagged, I was politely asked if I want to play. If I were tagged it would be like this:
If tagged, and you accept, these are the rules:
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
Since I don't know 8 people who blog--except for the people I'm sure have already been tagged, I'll admit to breaking 2 rules before I start. That pretty much makes this a post that describes 8 random facts about myself. As if I haven't done that over & over. But here goes:
1. I live where I should live. It's not that I believe in fate (though I think I put a fair share of faith in it's force) but my home in Hawkeye is the perfect place for me, and it's more or less where I always hoped I would end up. I'm not sure I thought I'd live there by myself, but I think that's the perfect state for me. People think it's some sort of magic or incredible source of strength that keeps me there, but really it's just my life. There's nothing particularly amazing about it. My sister takes public transportation all the time--to me, that's amazing and takes great strength. She shares a city with millions of people who speak a language that's not English. To me that's an incredible accomplishment. I struggle with mundane things that are all part of life in my neighborhood--we all do that, it's just a matter of what things we struggle with. I like the things I have to deal with. OK, maybe not so much an empty well or power outage at -20, but I can handle those with grace and aplomb (a plum?). Those are temporary facts of life.
2. I don't like asking for help. I always used to, especially from my husband and, at different times in my life from my mother. My mother just offered to send me money. Even $100 would have helped, but I'm not taking money from anyone. I hate to ask for help from people who offer, even. I've learned to pay people to help me--a plumber, someone to plow. I know that these things won't get done unless you find someone to pay, and in this area sometimes they're doing you a favor by serving you if you live at Silver Lake ("all the way out there?"). But my system works. People offer to help me all the time but I am uncomfortable accepting it. Sometimes, when I'm really stuck I'll ask. Like the times I get my car stuck in the snow and I can't wait for the AAA tow truck to come from Jay, I've called Ken and we've had fun pulling the car out. He likes to make fun of me and I like to offer him a way to pay me back for all the things I do for him. I've only ever had him rescue me twice a season, though--beyond that I'm on my own. Last year I spent a WHOLE lot of time shoveling my car out. It was miserable and I vowed not to spend another year like that. This year I spent $500 I didn't have on good snow tires. I didn't get stuck ever. I like solving my own problems--it's really important to me.
3. I've spent a lot of my life being sad. I was a sad little blonde girl and a sad teenager, but I found the sorts of friends who made me feel good in college. College was full of bad relationships and unrequited love as well. Anyway, once I figured out what was making me sad and addressed the issues, I discovered what it's like to be happy. A milestone in my life (no shit, Sherlock). Although I still get sad, I'm now a happy person.
4. I'm terribly disappointed in my country. Not the leaders--the citizens elected them, after all, so voters are responsible for giving them power. I'm upset that we're basically a racist society made up of greedy people. We want the best for ourselves (people pretend they want the best for their children, but of course they'll get to share the best, too) and we're willing to get it at the cost of the rights of other people, the environment, animals, you name it. I never liked the free enterprise system and my dislike for it has grown as I've aged. I have benefited from it, that's true, I can choose from so many different models of cars--but why do we need so many models in so many colors? Why am I so lucky because I'm white? Americans really don't like people whose culture is different, non-Christian, let's face it--non-American. I feel betrayed by my country, but I'm very patriotic anyway. I don't want to live in another country.
5. My greatest fear throughout my life was the fear of abandonment. Everyone feels that way, but mine was a phobia. We moved constantly when I was a child and I was convinced I would be left behind. One time my mother told me to go back to my bedroom to check the closet and make sure I hadn't left anything there. I wouldn't do it unless she went with me because I was sure it was a ploy to drive off without me. I can remember living in Turkey, being left with a maid who spoke no English while everyone else was off doing whatever it was they were doing (school, jobs), feeling completely alone and--you bet--abandoned. Maybe that's why I have dogs--they love you unconditionally and the only time they leave is when they die. Then you just get another one. Imagine how it was for me when my husband announced he didn't want to be with me anymore.
6. I always felt I wasn't good enough to be a member of my family. This is part of #5--they would leave me behind because I wasn't good enough to be with them. My family consists of intelligent, creative people--and I love them dearly. I used to aspire to be their equal, but then I gave up and settled for being funny and cute. I became part of a group of wonderful, giggly, FUN friends in high school (there are 18 of us who get together in various places every couple of years 40 years later). We did things like throw toilet paper in trees at each other's houses and play tackle football--this was the kind of good, clean fun girls had in Rockford, Illinois. My brother's friends were drinking, smoking and playing Vietcong, shooting each other with BB guns. I once read a letter my mother wrote to her mother that said Henry and Molly were doing well and she knew she'd never have to worry about me because I was cute. Duh. Stupid but cute, was how I read that one. My mother told me recently she had to separate me from my father to keep him from hitting me. Feel worthless, much? Anyway, we took IQ tests in school and mine was very high, a huge boost for my morale. I still didn't do well in school, but at least I knew I wasn't retarded.
7. I thought the greatest tragedy in my life was that I couldn't have children. Then my brother died.
8. I have no faith in relationships. I don't long for a relationship with a man. I've had my share and they haven't turned out well. My marriage was a good one in some ways (we had a lot of fun and I learned a whole lot about a whole lot of things--lots of practical information) and a bad one in some ways (no need to go into that). It was a revelation that a man who fell in love with me when he was 17 ended up not wanting to have a lifelong relationship with me. I'm sure the abandonment thing figures in here, although there have been times when I ended the relationship (one of which may have been the biggest mistake I ever made). Anyway, there are just too many bad or mediocre relationships causing hurt or dissatisfied or bored or miserable people who don't know how to end them. I'm afraid I will be one of those people, and my relationship with myself is a good one.
Looking these over I'm afraid there are too many negative things. Well, heck, all these years of introspection and self-examination have come up with discovery of sources of my problems. Now I'm learning what makes me happy--there are a whole lot of things, trust me. I just like looking at the things that made me unhappy because I've put lots of them behind me--my life is good, it's what I want it to be. Only with more money.
I didn't get tagged, I was politely asked if I want to play. If I were tagged it would be like this:
If tagged, and you accept, these are the rules:
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
Since I don't know 8 people who blog--except for the people I'm sure have already been tagged, I'll admit to breaking 2 rules before I start. That pretty much makes this a post that describes 8 random facts about myself. As if I haven't done that over & over. But here goes:
1. I live where I should live. It's not that I believe in fate (though I think I put a fair share of faith in it's force) but my home in Hawkeye is the perfect place for me, and it's more or less where I always hoped I would end up. I'm not sure I thought I'd live there by myself, but I think that's the perfect state for me. People think it's some sort of magic or incredible source of strength that keeps me there, but really it's just my life. There's nothing particularly amazing about it. My sister takes public transportation all the time--to me, that's amazing and takes great strength. She shares a city with millions of people who speak a language that's not English. To me that's an incredible accomplishment. I struggle with mundane things that are all part of life in my neighborhood--we all do that, it's just a matter of what things we struggle with. I like the things I have to deal with. OK, maybe not so much an empty well or power outage at -20, but I can handle those with grace and aplomb (a plum?). Those are temporary facts of life.
2. I don't like asking for help. I always used to, especially from my husband and, at different times in my life from my mother. My mother just offered to send me money. Even $100 would have helped, but I'm not taking money from anyone. I hate to ask for help from people who offer, even. I've learned to pay people to help me--a plumber, someone to plow. I know that these things won't get done unless you find someone to pay, and in this area sometimes they're doing you a favor by serving you if you live at Silver Lake ("all the way out there?"). But my system works. People offer to help me all the time but I am uncomfortable accepting it. Sometimes, when I'm really stuck I'll ask. Like the times I get my car stuck in the snow and I can't wait for the AAA tow truck to come from Jay, I've called Ken and we've had fun pulling the car out. He likes to make fun of me and I like to offer him a way to pay me back for all the things I do for him. I've only ever had him rescue me twice a season, though--beyond that I'm on my own. Last year I spent a WHOLE lot of time shoveling my car out. It was miserable and I vowed not to spend another year like that. This year I spent $500 I didn't have on good snow tires. I didn't get stuck ever. I like solving my own problems--it's really important to me.
3. I've spent a lot of my life being sad. I was a sad little blonde girl and a sad teenager, but I found the sorts of friends who made me feel good in college. College was full of bad relationships and unrequited love as well. Anyway, once I figured out what was making me sad and addressed the issues, I discovered what it's like to be happy. A milestone in my life (no shit, Sherlock). Although I still get sad, I'm now a happy person.
4. I'm terribly disappointed in my country. Not the leaders--the citizens elected them, after all, so voters are responsible for giving them power. I'm upset that we're basically a racist society made up of greedy people. We want the best for ourselves (people pretend they want the best for their children, but of course they'll get to share the best, too) and we're willing to get it at the cost of the rights of other people, the environment, animals, you name it. I never liked the free enterprise system and my dislike for it has grown as I've aged. I have benefited from it, that's true, I can choose from so many different models of cars--but why do we need so many models in so many colors? Why am I so lucky because I'm white? Americans really don't like people whose culture is different, non-Christian, let's face it--non-American. I feel betrayed by my country, but I'm very patriotic anyway. I don't want to live in another country.
5. My greatest fear throughout my life was the fear of abandonment. Everyone feels that way, but mine was a phobia. We moved constantly when I was a child and I was convinced I would be left behind. One time my mother told me to go back to my bedroom to check the closet and make sure I hadn't left anything there. I wouldn't do it unless she went with me because I was sure it was a ploy to drive off without me. I can remember living in Turkey, being left with a maid who spoke no English while everyone else was off doing whatever it was they were doing (school, jobs), feeling completely alone and--you bet--abandoned. Maybe that's why I have dogs--they love you unconditionally and the only time they leave is when they die. Then you just get another one. Imagine how it was for me when my husband announced he didn't want to be with me anymore.
6. I always felt I wasn't good enough to be a member of my family. This is part of #5--they would leave me behind because I wasn't good enough to be with them. My family consists of intelligent, creative people--and I love them dearly. I used to aspire to be their equal, but then I gave up and settled for being funny and cute. I became part of a group of wonderful, giggly, FUN friends in high school (there are 18 of us who get together in various places every couple of years 40 years later). We did things like throw toilet paper in trees at each other's houses and play tackle football--this was the kind of good, clean fun girls had in Rockford, Illinois. My brother's friends were drinking, smoking and playing Vietcong, shooting each other with BB guns. I once read a letter my mother wrote to her mother that said Henry and Molly were doing well and she knew she'd never have to worry about me because I was cute. Duh. Stupid but cute, was how I read that one. My mother told me recently she had to separate me from my father to keep him from hitting me. Feel worthless, much? Anyway, we took IQ tests in school and mine was very high, a huge boost for my morale. I still didn't do well in school, but at least I knew I wasn't retarded.
7. I thought the greatest tragedy in my life was that I couldn't have children. Then my brother died.
8. I have no faith in relationships. I don't long for a relationship with a man. I've had my share and they haven't turned out well. My marriage was a good one in some ways (we had a lot of fun and I learned a whole lot about a whole lot of things--lots of practical information) and a bad one in some ways (no need to go into that). It was a revelation that a man who fell in love with me when he was 17 ended up not wanting to have a lifelong relationship with me. I'm sure the abandonment thing figures in here, although there have been times when I ended the relationship (one of which may have been the biggest mistake I ever made). Anyway, there are just too many bad or mediocre relationships causing hurt or dissatisfied or bored or miserable people who don't know how to end them. I'm afraid I will be one of those people, and my relationship with myself is a good one.
Looking these over I'm afraid there are too many negative things. Well, heck, all these years of introspection and self-examination have come up with discovery of sources of my problems. Now I'm learning what makes me happy--there are a whole lot of things, trust me. I just like looking at the things that made me unhappy because I've put lots of them behind me--my life is good, it's what I want it to be. Only with more money.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Will this day never end?
It's almost June 21st, the longest day of the year. One of my favorite days. My friend Mary Frances Cooper, who worked with me in Providence 30 years ago and has a great wit, always said she wanted to take the 21st off so she could say when it finally got dark "I thought this day would never end!"
I like the 21st, I really--no, REALLY like daylight. I like getting up early as soon as it gets light. I have a real problem during winter months because it's hard for me to drag myself out of bed when it's dark. Then I stare longingly at my bed from the bathroom and want so much to put myself back under the covers until it's light. My colleagues must know how strange I am because I'm 20 minutes early to work during these months and 10 minutes late to work during the winter months. I wonder if they remember, or if they even pay attention. I love the way we always assume people notice our shortcomings. My Rockford friends and I get together every couple of years or so--these are friends I knew in grade school, junior high school and high school, and it's so funny to me the different things we all remember. I distinctly remember the girls who carpooled with me, but one of the women, who is a very good friend, doesn't remember some of the people at all. "How can you not remember Debbie Feruggia?" Of course, then Priscilla, my friend, got a 1954 Plymouth, a wonderful car, and she and I drove to school together every day, releasing my father from the obligation of driving 4 giggly high school girls the 4 or so miles to school. He probably liked it, he was an incredibly sociable person.
I slept in the boat house last night. We had a very dramatic thunderstorm, which I drove through just before I got home. I wanted more rain--my rain barrels are now half full, far from satisfactory for watering my plants for any period of time. I like the secure feeling of seeing them full to overflowing. There are so many things we can't control, so relax, Girl. I wonder if I'll ever stop obsessing about water.
Anyway, when I got to the b.h. the loons were wailing away and there was a duck hanging around the camp dock. I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't tell what kind of duck--it looked like a mallard. Apparently I have convinced Tess she really is a bird dog because she ran through the woods to get to the dock so she could flush the bird from it's spot. It flew, indignant and quacking. Tess really is interested in flushing birds now. When we take our walks she plows into the woods to get to a grouse and flushes it. I've been congratulating and praising her, calling her a BIRD DOG, and she's a quick study so I think she may know it's good to chase birds. The other day there was a male grouse standing in the road by my driveway as we were driving out. Tess was at full alert, watching as intently as I watch TV. The grouse got all puffed up (ruffed, as they're aptly named) and finally disappeared into the brush. Even Chances noticed it, with her vision issues. Next we saw a hare, not quite a fascinating to Tess, which Chances missed altogether.
One of the blogs I read had the following chapter in a story about the homeless:
... a woman who was homeless because when she got leukemia she lost her job because she couldn't work, which meant she lost her insurance, and within months, after selling her possessions piecemeal to pay for rent was evicted and moved into the Salvation Army shelter. [whew--Can you say vicious circle?] She was--at the time of her diagnosis--a practicing pharmacist and just about to go to Julliard on a full scholarship.
This is one of my great fears, especially since I am dependent on no one but myself. If I come down with a catastrophic illness and use up my sick leave I'll lose my job, then my health insurance, my house, my land--everything. I'm lucky, though, I can live with my mother--she lives in a wonderful house with enough room, in a wonderful place. But what would come after that? I wouldn't be self-sufficient. There are no jobs available in RI that pay what I'm making now, and I wouldn't have my house, nor would I live here, which is where I've always wanted to be. My mother thinks she wants me to live with her, she's always suggesting it, but truly this is not something that would work well for any period of time.
So that's what I think of when I want to be dark, bleak and think about the slender thread that holds my life together.
My sister writes of the alternating states of wanting to get out of her house and wanting to stay, stay, stay inside of it. I have similar feelings. Sometimes I suffer from great anxiety about being in social situations. I know I have a great capacity for being charming and witty, but sometimes I am so anxious about being with other people--it's very embarrassing to myself. I just want to stay home, but I know I don't want to be the sort of person who does that. Besides, I socialize with the greatest people, truly wonderful friends I feel lucky to have. I like the Hawkeye people tremendously, and I realize these will be my friends for a long, long time (unless, of course I end up living with my mother--joke).
So I know I must leave my house, and of course there are times when I do want to leave my house--get out of it because I want to be somewhere else, I'm looking forward to enjoying the company of my friends. I don't have complicated transportation to deal with, the way my sister does, it's always a simple matter to get from my house to another place. When I go to my mother's I hate to leave my home, but I look forward to being with her and being in her house. It seems I don't go anywhere else: is that healthy? I have a friend who lives near the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame--one of my goals in life is to see that, so I want to visit her. She begs me to visit her in every communique, but I always have a reason for not going. Bad girl. I have a friend who lives nearby who invites me to his house every couple of months. In winter he phones me at 7 on Saturday night and wants me to come over because he and his wife have a few friends there and he wants me to be part of that group. I almost always say no. I'm usually nestled in by then, or I just don't feel like being there. I should go, these are my neighbors.
Geez, don't I make myself sound popular? I'm always amazed when people know who I am. I figure I have a reputation for being that odd woman who lives alone in the woods with her dogs. Everyone knows I have dogs, and everyone knows I live alone. Most people think Jamie was the Rogers, but more are learning that I was a Rogers before I married him. This is important to me, but of course it's pretty embarrassing to admit you married your cousin. How Kentucky of me!
ramblerambleramble.
Today it's Lake Placid's CD collection. From Lang Lang live at Carnegie Hall (that's his name: Lang Lang) to The Demonic Liszt (oh that pesky Liszt). How can I keep myself from listening to them as I catalog?
It's almost June 21st, the longest day of the year. One of my favorite days. My friend Mary Frances Cooper, who worked with me in Providence 30 years ago and has a great wit, always said she wanted to take the 21st off so she could say when it finally got dark "I thought this day would never end!"
I like the 21st, I really--no, REALLY like daylight. I like getting up early as soon as it gets light. I have a real problem during winter months because it's hard for me to drag myself out of bed when it's dark. Then I stare longingly at my bed from the bathroom and want so much to put myself back under the covers until it's light. My colleagues must know how strange I am because I'm 20 minutes early to work during these months and 10 minutes late to work during the winter months. I wonder if they remember, or if they even pay attention. I love the way we always assume people notice our shortcomings. My Rockford friends and I get together every couple of years or so--these are friends I knew in grade school, junior high school and high school, and it's so funny to me the different things we all remember. I distinctly remember the girls who carpooled with me, but one of the women, who is a very good friend, doesn't remember some of the people at all. "How can you not remember Debbie Feruggia?" Of course, then Priscilla, my friend, got a 1954 Plymouth, a wonderful car, and she and I drove to school together every day, releasing my father from the obligation of driving 4 giggly high school girls the 4 or so miles to school. He probably liked it, he was an incredibly sociable person.
I slept in the boat house last night. We had a very dramatic thunderstorm, which I drove through just before I got home. I wanted more rain--my rain barrels are now half full, far from satisfactory for watering my plants for any period of time. I like the secure feeling of seeing them full to overflowing. There are so many things we can't control, so relax, Girl. I wonder if I'll ever stop obsessing about water.
Anyway, when I got to the b.h. the loons were wailing away and there was a duck hanging around the camp dock. I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't tell what kind of duck--it looked like a mallard. Apparently I have convinced Tess she really is a bird dog because she ran through the woods to get to the dock so she could flush the bird from it's spot. It flew, indignant and quacking. Tess really is interested in flushing birds now. When we take our walks she plows into the woods to get to a grouse and flushes it. I've been congratulating and praising her, calling her a BIRD DOG, and she's a quick study so I think she may know it's good to chase birds. The other day there was a male grouse standing in the road by my driveway as we were driving out. Tess was at full alert, watching as intently as I watch TV. The grouse got all puffed up (ruffed, as they're aptly named) and finally disappeared into the brush. Even Chances noticed it, with her vision issues. Next we saw a hare, not quite a fascinating to Tess, which Chances missed altogether.
One of the blogs I read had the following chapter in a story about the homeless:
... a woman who was homeless because when she got leukemia she lost her job because she couldn't work, which meant she lost her insurance, and within months, after selling her possessions piecemeal to pay for rent was evicted and moved into the Salvation Army shelter. [whew--Can you say vicious circle?] She was--at the time of her diagnosis--a practicing pharmacist and just about to go to Julliard on a full scholarship.
This is one of my great fears, especially since I am dependent on no one but myself. If I come down with a catastrophic illness and use up my sick leave I'll lose my job, then my health insurance, my house, my land--everything. I'm lucky, though, I can live with my mother--she lives in a wonderful house with enough room, in a wonderful place. But what would come after that? I wouldn't be self-sufficient. There are no jobs available in RI that pay what I'm making now, and I wouldn't have my house, nor would I live here, which is where I've always wanted to be. My mother thinks she wants me to live with her, she's always suggesting it, but truly this is not something that would work well for any period of time.
So that's what I think of when I want to be dark, bleak and think about the slender thread that holds my life together.
My sister writes of the alternating states of wanting to get out of her house and wanting to stay, stay, stay inside of it. I have similar feelings. Sometimes I suffer from great anxiety about being in social situations. I know I have a great capacity for being charming and witty, but sometimes I am so anxious about being with other people--it's very embarrassing to myself. I just want to stay home, but I know I don't want to be the sort of person who does that. Besides, I socialize with the greatest people, truly wonderful friends I feel lucky to have. I like the Hawkeye people tremendously, and I realize these will be my friends for a long, long time (unless, of course I end up living with my mother--joke).
So I know I must leave my house, and of course there are times when I do want to leave my house--get out of it because I want to be somewhere else, I'm looking forward to enjoying the company of my friends. I don't have complicated transportation to deal with, the way my sister does, it's always a simple matter to get from my house to another place. When I go to my mother's I hate to leave my home, but I look forward to being with her and being in her house. It seems I don't go anywhere else: is that healthy? I have a friend who lives near the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame--one of my goals in life is to see that, so I want to visit her. She begs me to visit her in every communique, but I always have a reason for not going. Bad girl. I have a friend who lives nearby who invites me to his house every couple of months. In winter he phones me at 7 on Saturday night and wants me to come over because he and his wife have a few friends there and he wants me to be part of that group. I almost always say no. I'm usually nestled in by then, or I just don't feel like being there. I should go, these are my neighbors.
Geez, don't I make myself sound popular? I'm always amazed when people know who I am. I figure I have a reputation for being that odd woman who lives alone in the woods with her dogs. Everyone knows I have dogs, and everyone knows I live alone. Most people think Jamie was the Rogers, but more are learning that I was a Rogers before I married him. This is important to me, but of course it's pretty embarrassing to admit you married your cousin. How Kentucky of me!
ramblerambleramble.
Today it's Lake Placid's CD collection. From Lang Lang live at Carnegie Hall (that's his name: Lang Lang) to The Demonic Liszt (oh that pesky Liszt). How can I keep myself from listening to them as I catalog?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Sheep laurel
Well now I'm all confused. I thought the sheep laurel had already bloomed. It makes sense that it would be blooming now, because the laurel surrounding my mother's house in RI (well does she have another house that's NOT in RI?) blooms at the end of June. This is called sheep laurel (I've read) because it's poisonous to sheep. Why would you name something after the animal it's poisonous to? Do we call it human arsenic?
We planned our wedding around the blooming of the laurel, because when it's a good laurel year it's truly spectacular. The woods are full of huge pom-poms of barely pink-tinged white blossoms. They look like small rhodendrons, since they're members of the same family. Anyway, I wanted to be married in my mother's yard when the laurel was in bloom. Planned the whole thing around it. Didn't want--REALLY didn't want a wedding at all, was humoring Jamie completely on that. So guess what? The laurel was a complete bust that year and there was hardly any. Some years it's like that, there just isn't much in bloom. It was a nice wedding anyway, as weddings go. Who knew we would have to ask people not to stand on the rocks in the woods right in front of us, taking pictures as we were promising the world to each other? How rude they all were, snapping away in our faces. Anyway, Jamie was nervous and got his pronouncement wrong. He said "All my worldly goods I me endow." He sure was right about that.
We planned our wedding around the blooming of the laurel, because when it's a good laurel year it's truly spectacular. The woods are full of huge pom-poms of barely pink-tinged white blossoms. They look like small rhodendrons, since they're members of the same family. Anyway, I wanted to be married in my mother's yard when the laurel was in bloom. Planned the whole thing around it. Didn't want--REALLY didn't want a wedding at all, was humoring Jamie completely on that. So guess what? The laurel was a complete bust that year and there was hardly any. Some years it's like that, there just isn't much in bloom. It was a nice wedding anyway, as weddings go. Who knew we would have to ask people not to stand on the rocks in the woods right in front of us, taking pictures as we were promising the world to each other? How rude they all were, snapping away in our faces. Anyway, Jamie was nervous and got his pronouncement wrong. He said "All my worldly goods I me endow." He sure was right about that.
indigo
This is really cool. I noticed it along the road, on my property. It's wild indigo. I recognized the leaves--they're similar to my baptisia plant. Baptisia is also called False Indigo. How cool is this? I learned a new flower today. A positive ID. Family motto: you learn something new every day. Wow! I got that knocked off before 7 a.m. I can relax for the rest of the day.
Alpine azalea
I'm not really sure what this is. I'll have to check the brochure for the bog, but what it looks like in the Audubon Society's book is alpine azalea. This is a tentative identification and I sure could be way wrong. It's that creeping stuff with tiny, tiny leaves--the stuff I really like that grows out onto the board walk and would be perfect for our Little Bill Villages.
action shot
No, this isn't a picture I took last year. This is what Tess always looks like at some point during our walk. I love what happens when we reach the end of the boardwalk: I say "OK, time to go back," and start walking back. The wait a little while, then together, like a team of horses they thunder past me on the right. Always on the right. What a pair.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Looking down
Linda had a bunch of huge pine trees cut down by two tree cutters. I didn't get to see them in action, but apparently one of them climbed way up to the very top of these 50' high trees to limb them out as he came down and it was really impressive. Wait until Linda sees this! She'll be very impressed.
Piles of logs
This is what was left behind--lots of piles like this. The big ones make good tables for places like the boat house porch or Linda's campfire. But you can only use so many tables like that...
Giving me the eye
This is what Chances often looks like: pissed off. Or maybe just bored. And this is often what you get from Tess: one eye and a little tongue
Boredom
This is the most interesting thing to do while they wait: smell the amazing scents of a place other than our home. I take Chances to Linda's from time to time, but Tess hardly ever. She bounces too much. I wonder if Chances recognizes Linda's from the scents? They got all excited when I drove in on the bouncy road, but dogs generally get excited when you drive on a bouncy dirt road. Every time I drive Chances to Ken's she starts whining when I turn righ on the hardtop. That's when she and I are alone in the car and I've not put anything like garbage in the car. It's very strange: how does she know we're going to Ken's?
Early morning
No Monday morning post would be complete without a sunrise shot. This was taken at 4:30 a.m. Although I like waking up early, this was ridiculous. I slept a lot during the day on Sat., and since I slept in the boat house (where there's no television, thank goodness) I went to bed early, my body was well rested. I woke, made coffee and did what I used to love doing: sat in bed, read and drank coffee. It was too cold to sit in the cure chair on the porch so I stayed under the covers. The dogs were in an out, their favorite state. Tess loves to go outside, run around a lot, then bound inside, breathless as if she has something exciting to report to me. Like: there was a squirrel in the tree, you should have heard it!
Friday, June 15, 2007
dog for scale
Jenica's and my handiwork continues to thrive. The boys will be here soon to approve or disapprove of our gardening task.
put a little tongue in it
The usual blurry shot of Tess. My dog sticks her tongue out at you. How many dogs do you know that do that?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)