You know what I miss? I miss glamour. Which includes, but is not limited to, the sense of being at the center of things.
When I was growing up in Cleveland, the least glamourous of cities, even in the 1950s when it was prosperous, even with its great cultural institutions, including the Art Museum and the Orchestra - when I was growing up there, I knew I would eventually want to get out. It was stodgy.
On my (first) honeymoon, at Caneel Bay, I was enthralled by the Rockefeller resort. This is the same Rockefeller family whose patriarch Cleveland turned down when he wanted to build Rockefeller Center on Lake Erie! There was a couple there, at Caneel Bay, also on their honeymoon, from Connecticut. She looked in my memory like Carolyn Bissett (probably misspelled) and I longed to be like her. I longed for the life I imagined she led. Next to her and her husband, I and mine looked frumpy and midwestern, dun and dull.
I got myself to New York by hook or by crook. It took me years to adjust, to feel that I belonged, but by the time I left five years ago, I had found my way, myself, and my work, and I had found the glamour I was looking for. Of course, New York is one of the most glamourous places on earth. It is the center of everything: Fashion, culture, even grit. I lived through the 1990s there, when New York was on top of the world. It was glorious.
Even September 11th added to New York's glory. Only the greatest city in the United States would invite such a spectacular attack. Only New Yorkers could take it. We were all proud of our city and ourselves. It brought us to our knees but it didn't stop us.
Rural South Carolina, where I live now, has many virtues and pleasures and advantages. Space. Pace. Grace. But it hasn't got glamour. Recently I read that rural people are the ones most satisfied with the places they live. Urban people want to be someplace else, either some other city that looks greener across the highway, or some rural place like this. We're restless, we urbanites. Maybe that's what's wrong. I'm never satisfied. That's the thing about glamour, it keeps changing. I miss it.
An update on Laurel Blossom's personal and professional activities, with good stories and a poem or two on occasion.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Monday, May 04, 2009
It's over now, but in the spring the pine trees give off a pollen that covers everything in layers of yellow haze. Recently I came across these passages (in the New York Review of Books, November 20, 2008) from Edmund Wilson's journals of 1942, at Gull Pond on Cape Cod, describing the same phenomenon:
"As one walked in the water one encountered pines putting out their soft straw-colored (?) bunches of cones and smelling with a special almost sweet-fern fragrance. The baby cones seemed almost embarrassingly soft, almost like a woman's nipples."
"The little yellow buds of the pines are not the cones, neither these nor 'the candles', with bristly conelike scales, that rise from the middle of the cluster. The cones are little round green cones that grown underneath the branch. When you shake the soft things, they give out a lemon-yellow dust that looks like (lemon-colored) smoke."
"As one walked in the water one encountered pines putting out their soft straw-colored (?) bunches of cones and smelling with a special almost sweet-fern fragrance. The baby cones seemed almost embarrassingly soft, almost like a woman's nipples."
"The little yellow buds of the pines are not the cones, neither these nor 'the candles', with bristly conelike scales, that rise from the middle of the cluster. The cones are little round green cones that grown underneath the branch. When you shake the soft things, they give out a lemon-yellow dust that looks like (lemon-colored) smoke."
Emma's dad put up a tent in the brick courtyard of their house on Saturday and the two of them spent the night camping out, complete with hot dogs and s'mores. Mom and little Dudley were not invited.
They actually stayed out all night. Isn't that adorable?
Emma takes gymnastics on Saturday afternoons. When her mom asked her who she wanted to have take her to gymnastics this Saturday, she said her dad should take her because she was going to hang out with him all day.
He was the star of Saturday.
This is a great thing because Emma doesn't like boys! She has shied away from her dad in the past, so we're all very happy that he has succeeded in getting her attention.
Once, when she was watching her dad change Dudley's diaper, she said, Dudley's penis is little. Then she said, Daddy's penis is gigantic!
She was the star of that day!
They actually stayed out all night. Isn't that adorable?
Emma takes gymnastics on Saturday afternoons. When her mom asked her who she wanted to have take her to gymnastics this Saturday, she said her dad should take her because she was going to hang out with him all day.
He was the star of Saturday.
This is a great thing because Emma doesn't like boys! She has shied away from her dad in the past, so we're all very happy that he has succeeded in getting her attention.
Once, when she was watching her dad change Dudley's diaper, she said, Dudley's penis is little. Then she said, Daddy's penis is gigantic!
She was the star of that day!
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Our driveway looks like the economy! it's a mess. Replacing it at this time may not be the smartest thing we ever did from a financial point of view, but we had several natural speed bumps along the way (unlike the previous economy!) and had no choice really but to remove the roots (hmmm) of the problem and start over. Let's hope the White House is able to do the same.
The cat, who used to be white, is now peach-colored from the red clay dirt and dust. Meantime, it's peach festival time in our corner of the orchard. Peaches are one of the great joys of being here. Those and Vidalia onions, I'd never heard of before coming south.
Meantime, I'm just back (again) from New York, where I passed the first anniversary of Jason's death with an ache in my heart - and from Dartmouth where i did a reading with a young poet named Suzanne Frischkorn. Believe me, anyone who can write a line like "I am almost invisible with longing" has a bright future.
To all and everyone, a mild and smiling springtime. It's already summer here! Once we get the driveway done, the outdoor furniture painted and the plants arranged outside, we're going to start having parties. I missed last summer because of my hip replacement, so I'm going to doubly enjoy this one.
Who knows what the future holds?
The cat, who used to be white, is now peach-colored from the red clay dirt and dust. Meantime, it's peach festival time in our corner of the orchard. Peaches are one of the great joys of being here. Those and Vidalia onions, I'd never heard of before coming south.
Meantime, I'm just back (again) from New York, where I passed the first anniversary of Jason's death with an ache in my heart - and from Dartmouth where i did a reading with a young poet named Suzanne Frischkorn. Believe me, anyone who can write a line like "I am almost invisible with longing" has a bright future.
To all and everyone, a mild and smiling springtime. It's already summer here! Once we get the driveway done, the outdoor furniture painted and the plants arranged outside, we're going to start having parties. I missed last summer because of my hip replacement, so I'm going to doubly enjoy this one.
Who knows what the future holds?
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Merry Christmas to all and to all a Happy Inauguration!
I will be flying back to South Carolina from New York City as President Obama is being sworn in. I'll be sorry to miss the moment in real time, but in a way, it's appropriate for me to be in the air, going from my beloved city home to my "lovely village of the hills", to quote from Edgefield poet, Sarah Rainsford Collett. It seems I will always live my life between two poles. I'm a Gemini, after all. Does that explain it?
I'm thinking on this Christmas Eve of all my distant and absent friends and family. I miss you all and embrace you all and send you all the glad tidings of the season, meaning joy and peace and muddling through together, no matter how far flung.
Sentimental blessings on your heads and hearts.
I will be flying back to South Carolina from New York City as President Obama is being sworn in. I'll be sorry to miss the moment in real time, but in a way, it's appropriate for me to be in the air, going from my beloved city home to my "lovely village of the hills", to quote from Edgefield poet, Sarah Rainsford Collett. It seems I will always live my life between two poles. I'm a Gemini, after all. Does that explain it?
I'm thinking on this Christmas Eve of all my distant and absent friends and family. I miss you all and embrace you all and send you all the glad tidings of the season, meaning joy and peace and muddling through together, no matter how far flung.
Sentimental blessings on your heads and hearts.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Then one day, as I was driving, a squirrel got caught in the middle of the road in front of me, not knowing whether to stay put or run. I swerved to miss it, but instead I hit and killed it. I felt awful. I don't think I'd ever killed anything larger than an insect before. Except a snake.
I kept thinking afterwards that if I'd just kept going straight, the squirrel would have figured it out, what to do. By changing course, I had run into his plan for escape.
Don't swerve is my new motto.
I kept thinking afterwards that if I'd just kept going straight, the squirrel would have figured it out, what to do. By changing course, I had run into his plan for escape.
Don't swerve is my new motto.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
I was out by the pool when I saw her first, a deer running along the crest of the hill on the other side of the stream. She was followed by a smaller figure I took to be a fawn. But, very shortly, the doe came crashing down to the stream and crossed to my side of the water. She was impaired in some fashion, she couldn't stand straight, she seemed weak and wobbly on her legs. She was just below me, where I stood on the pool deck, separated from her by a six-foot high stone wall. She was not twenty feet away, and on the other bank, watching her and dodging back and forth, was a real live scruffy-looking long-legged grey coyote. It was like watching TV. I was in civilization up on my safe pool deck, they were in another, dangerous, realm. Except it was real, it was right there. The deer ducked and parried for a moment or two, then broke upstream with the coyote in hot pursuit. I followed them along the bank until they were out of sight.
Later, when I went out to throw away the trash, a flock of buzzards lifted off from the trees and from the rocks along the curve in the stream bed, where I discovered the body of the deer lying, ribcage exposed, along the bank. Our friend who came to haul her away said that coyotes are all over the Eastern US now, even in the cities. Chicago, he said, has a big problem. Fortunately, around here, he added, people still shoot them, so they're wary of humans. But they will eat small animals -- so we worry about Phoebe, who was hiding, and Amos, who was curious about the smells, but leary. He did not bark.
Then, this evening, a buzzard was sitting, black and big, big as life (big as death), on the stone wall that supposedly marks the boundary between them and us. A challenge, a reminder, a warning, a hint.
Plus, for two nights running, the deck chair has been moved. Who has been sitting there? What's the idea?
Later, when I went out to throw away the trash, a flock of buzzards lifted off from the trees and from the rocks along the curve in the stream bed, where I discovered the body of the deer lying, ribcage exposed, along the bank. Our friend who came to haul her away said that coyotes are all over the Eastern US now, even in the cities. Chicago, he said, has a big problem. Fortunately, around here, he added, people still shoot them, so they're wary of humans. But they will eat small animals -- so we worry about Phoebe, who was hiding, and Amos, who was curious about the smells, but leary. He did not bark.
Then, this evening, a buzzard was sitting, black and big, big as life (big as death), on the stone wall that supposedly marks the boundary between them and us. A challenge, a reminder, a warning, a hint.
Plus, for two nights running, the deck chair has been moved. Who has been sitting there? What's the idea?
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
It's been a long time without much to report from life in the South. Emma is taking ballet and tap, both of which she loves. Our new little guy is almost five months old.
But the big news is that Louis and I were invited to a house party that included, on Friday night, a black tie dinner and, on Saturday night, a coon hunt! That's how we do things down here in the Southland! I threatened to wear my evening gown on the hunt, but I didn't. I would have been sorry. The twenty or so of us, host and guests, were transported to the starting point, an oilcan fire next to the mud, in a hay wagon drawn by a tractor. We waited there, half an hour or so, until dark. Then the hounds were let loose to find a raccoon. Soon we heard them baying. We walked to a spot beside the "road" no different from any other spot, where our leader, wearing a mining cap to light the way, suddenly plunged into the underbrush. After we had traipsed through the woods for ten or fifteen minutes, shining our flashlights before us, frequently stopping to let those who were slower catch up to the rest of us so no one would get lost in the dark, over and under branches and hillocks and tree stumps and tree stump sink holes, we seemed, I swear, farther away from the hounds than when we started out. After more traipsing and stopping, and another ten or fifteen minutes, we finally arrived at the aforementioned tree, the hounds were leaping and yowling, we trained our many flashlights up, way up, into the bare branches, and eventually were able to make out, very uncertainly, two very small yellow eyes looking down upon us. And that was it. Except of course, for the traipsing back and the hay ride home. The actual payoff was not the shooting of the coon (which shooting we did not do),let alone the eating thereof (for this was a "green" hunt), but the country BBQ dinner, for which we were all as hungry as hogs. Pulled pork, beans, rice, cole slaw, rolls, smoked salmon, and pecan pie! But naming does not do justice to the cooking, everything was slightly sweet, like well-made Southern tea, we all had second helpings, and slept in Sunday!
But the big news is that Louis and I were invited to a house party that included, on Friday night, a black tie dinner and, on Saturday night, a coon hunt! That's how we do things down here in the Southland! I threatened to wear my evening gown on the hunt, but I didn't. I would have been sorry. The twenty or so of us, host and guests, were transported to the starting point, an oilcan fire next to the mud, in a hay wagon drawn by a tractor. We waited there, half an hour or so, until dark. Then the hounds were let loose to find a raccoon. Soon we heard them baying. We walked to a spot beside the "road" no different from any other spot, where our leader, wearing a mining cap to light the way, suddenly plunged into the underbrush. After we had traipsed through the woods for ten or fifteen minutes, shining our flashlights before us, frequently stopping to let those who were slower catch up to the rest of us so no one would get lost in the dark, over and under branches and hillocks and tree stumps and tree stump sink holes, we seemed, I swear, farther away from the hounds than when we started out. After more traipsing and stopping, and another ten or fifteen minutes, we finally arrived at the aforementioned tree, the hounds were leaping and yowling, we trained our many flashlights up, way up, into the bare branches, and eventually were able to make out, very uncertainly, two very small yellow eyes looking down upon us. And that was it. Except of course, for the traipsing back and the hay ride home. The actual payoff was not the shooting of the coon (which shooting we did not do),let alone the eating thereof (for this was a "green" hunt), but the country BBQ dinner, for which we were all as hungry as hogs. Pulled pork, beans, rice, cole slaw, rolls, smoked salmon, and pecan pie! But naming does not do justice to the cooking, everything was slightly sweet, like well-made Southern tea, we all had second helpings, and slept in Sunday!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Dudley has arrived! 8 lbs. 7 oz., 20 1/2 inches long. His name has been changed to protect the innocent -- and to honor the uncle he didn't get named for!
Comparing pictures to his sister when she was born, we find the following: Emma was VERBAL from the start! Dudley is quiet, content, serene. He only cries for a reason. Mostly he sleeps, of course. His horoscope said he would be easy. (Hers didn't!) We expect lovely, gentle, amiable things from him in future. He will be a late bloomer.
Comparing parents, those of Emma were skittish, nervous, and protective. The parents of Dudley took him to the pool at the grandparents' hotel when he was four days old, and to the art museum the day after.
Everyone is happy. Except Emma, sometimes. The first time she needed something when her mom was busy feeding her brother and couldn't help, she said, No Want Dudley!
This sentiment continues, off and on. But we have a picture of her stroking his face. That too.
Comparing pictures to his sister when she was born, we find the following: Emma was VERBAL from the start! Dudley is quiet, content, serene. He only cries for a reason. Mostly he sleeps, of course. His horoscope said he would be easy. (Hers didn't!) We expect lovely, gentle, amiable things from him in future. He will be a late bloomer.
Comparing parents, those of Emma were skittish, nervous, and protective. The parents of Dudley took him to the pool at the grandparents' hotel when he was four days old, and to the art museum the day after.
Everyone is happy. Except Emma, sometimes. The first time she needed something when her mom was busy feeding her brother and couldn't help, she said, No Want Dudley!
This sentiment continues, off and on. But we have a picture of her stroking his face. That too.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Emma is looking forward to the arrival of her baby brother. Sort of. When her crib was moved into his room and replaced by the bunk bed, she was excited. But later she told her mother she wanted grampa to come back with the big boxes the bunk bed had come in and take it away.
She often plays with a little boy in the neighborhood who has a baby brother, eighteen months old. Emma loves that little brother. She hugs him and kisses him, she likes to take care of him and protect him. Three weeks ago she started squeezing his head!
So Emma has mixed feelings about a baby brother, though, as her mom says, she likes the "concept."
We'll see. We'll know shortly!
She often plays with a little boy in the neighborhood who has a baby brother, eighteen months old. Emma loves that little brother. She hugs him and kisses him, she likes to take care of him and protect him. Three weeks ago she started squeezing his head!
So Emma has mixed feelings about a baby brother, though, as her mom says, she likes the "concept."
We'll see. We'll know shortly!
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
More news from the country! It's been a rough couple of weeks. A much loved local teacher -- which does not begin to describe who she was or how much everybody loved her -- and expert rider died near her home after a fall from her horse. In addition to feeling the community's grief for her and her husband and son, I also felt an unexpected survivor guilt and need to control everything else i thought I could control, including how my daughter and grand daughter live their lives down to the smallest detail of talking on cell phones and crossing streets. Anything and everything can change so stunningly, in an instant and without warning. I want that to stop!
I thought I was over J's death when Louis and I went out of town for the afternoon and evening Saturday, leaving Amos and Phoebe here on their own. Driving back, we noticed some evidence of a rainstorm -- wet streets, minor debris -- but when we turned into our driveway, we were blocked from progressing by three or four large tree limbs, one of which turned out to be a whole dogwood tree, across the drive. The storm seemed to have passed right through our property, leaving land on either side of us unscathed.
There's a message in there somewhere. Not that somebody has it in for me, not that one. The message is about control, how I haven't got it.
We were lucky. While there were several trees whose tops had been lopped off by the storm, including one in the woods whose trunk was too big for me to get my arms around and which had been split only a couple of feet above Louis's head -- nothing had hit the (1) pets, (2) house, or (3) truck.
We heard of one family who left to go grocery shopping while their house was without electricity and came back to find that their house had burned to the ground from an electrical surge once the storm had passed.
Everything can change in an instant and without warning. Our broken trees stand as a sign. When the paper shredder jammed yesterday, I spent an hour digging out little pieces of shredded paper like a madwoman. Not LIKE a madwoman. I'm a little nuts with anxiety and rage. I think I fed it too much paper. I remember wondering how much it could take.
I couldn't fix it. I think I'll have to get a new one, which makes me blush with shame. Which makes me want to cry.
I'm writing you in an effort to let go. I'm writing you to warn you of what you already know: things can change in an instant and you have no control. I'm writing to tell you that I love you.
I thought I was over J's death when Louis and I went out of town for the afternoon and evening Saturday, leaving Amos and Phoebe here on their own. Driving back, we noticed some evidence of a rainstorm -- wet streets, minor debris -- but when we turned into our driveway, we were blocked from progressing by three or four large tree limbs, one of which turned out to be a whole dogwood tree, across the drive. The storm seemed to have passed right through our property, leaving land on either side of us unscathed.
There's a message in there somewhere. Not that somebody has it in for me, not that one. The message is about control, how I haven't got it.
We were lucky. While there were several trees whose tops had been lopped off by the storm, including one in the woods whose trunk was too big for me to get my arms around and which had been split only a couple of feet above Louis's head -- nothing had hit the (1) pets, (2) house, or (3) truck.
We heard of one family who left to go grocery shopping while their house was without electricity and came back to find that their house had burned to the ground from an electrical surge once the storm had passed.
Everything can change in an instant and without warning. Our broken trees stand as a sign. When the paper shredder jammed yesterday, I spent an hour digging out little pieces of shredded paper like a madwoman. Not LIKE a madwoman. I'm a little nuts with anxiety and rage. I think I fed it too much paper. I remember wondering how much it could take.
I couldn't fix it. I think I'll have to get a new one, which makes me blush with shame. Which makes me want to cry.
I'm writing you in an effort to let go. I'm writing you to warn you of what you already know: things can change in an instant and you have no control. I'm writing to tell you that I love you.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Monday, January 08, 2007
Writers, take heart! When I turn in my manuscript for Degrees of Latitude this month to Four Way Books, it will have been 18 years to the day since I began this project! Can you believe it? It better be good!
We had a spectacular Christmas with a week-long visit from Emma and her mom. Emma, now 18 months old, is no longer a baby, but a real little girl. I hadn't seen her for four months, so I could hardly believe how grown up she was. I'm never letting that much time go by again! When she's thirty-five, if I'm still on this earth, and especially if I'm not, she's gong to see her G not less than every two months!
May 2007 bring us all health, happiness, peace and productivity!
We had a spectacular Christmas with a week-long visit from Emma and her mom. Emma, now 18 months old, is no longer a baby, but a real little girl. I hadn't seen her for four months, so I could hardly believe how grown up she was. I'm never letting that much time go by again! When she's thirty-five, if I'm still on this earth, and especially if I'm not, she's gong to see her G not less than every two months!
May 2007 bring us all health, happiness, peace and productivity!
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Happy Labor Day weekend, everybody! I hope you all had a lovely summer. Ours has been full of bursting!
First of all, the thrilling news that Degrees of Latitude, my book-length poem that I describe as "the geography of a woman's life," will be published by Four Way Books in New York in Spring 2008. Keep an eye on my website for more information as it becomes available.
Second, I spent a week babysitting with Emma in August while her nanny was on vacation. Emma is 15 months old now; when I saw her she was walking eagerly and spent a great deal of time going up and down inclined driveways and up and down steps on walkways going to neighbors' houses. She loved going around the neighborhood; a block's walk could take as much as an hour and a half!
She fell going downhill and scraped her knee. "Emma," we'd say, "where's your boo-boo?" She would hold up her knee and point proudly: "Bo-bo!"
I'm in love!
We had a stray hound come to live with us for almost three weeks while we tried to find her a home. Finally, she went to live with a pest control salesman who has a pack of hunting dogs he wants to breed her with. Soon after that, we found an abandoned tabby kitten on the road and brought her home too. Luckily, our local shelter, All God's Creatures, was able to take her -- and only for a day, because she had a standing request for an orange kitten!
Now we're back to normal. Except of course that it's the week of the US Open, Andre Agassi is retiring, and he's struggling -- so far successfully -- to stay in the tournament with his bad back and his courage. The fans (count me in!) adores him!
Good health and happiness to you all.
First of all, the thrilling news that Degrees of Latitude, my book-length poem that I describe as "the geography of a woman's life," will be published by Four Way Books in New York in Spring 2008. Keep an eye on my website for more information as it becomes available.
Second, I spent a week babysitting with Emma in August while her nanny was on vacation. Emma is 15 months old now; when I saw her she was walking eagerly and spent a great deal of time going up and down inclined driveways and up and down steps on walkways going to neighbors' houses. She loved going around the neighborhood; a block's walk could take as much as an hour and a half!
She fell going downhill and scraped her knee. "Emma," we'd say, "where's your boo-boo?" She would hold up her knee and point proudly: "Bo-bo!"
I'm in love!
We had a stray hound come to live with us for almost three weeks while we tried to find her a home. Finally, she went to live with a pest control salesman who has a pack of hunting dogs he wants to breed her with. Soon after that, we found an abandoned tabby kitten on the road and brought her home too. Luckily, our local shelter, All God's Creatures, was able to take her -- and only for a day, because she had a standing request for an orange kitten!
Now we're back to normal. Except of course that it's the week of the US Open, Andre Agassi is retiring, and he's struggling -- so far successfully -- to stay in the tournament with his bad back and his courage. The fans (count me in!) adores him!
Good health and happiness to you all.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Can't believe it's been so long since I wrote you!
We had hail in April, or was it May, big balls of it that lasted ten minutes or so during a warm spring storm, making water splash high in the pool and cooling the air as we watched from under the shelter of the carport.
We had a visit from Emma and her parents close enough to her first birthday that we celebrated. She got blue frosting all over her mouth. She's standing on her own now, for a second or two, and so pleased she claps to congratulate herself and falls down.
Phoebe found a snake in one of the garden railroad ties that hadn't quite pulled itself all the way in. She liked playing with its tail. The neighbor who looked after Phoebe and Amos while we were away for a weekend in early June wasn't so amused and shot the snake when it ventured out into the yard.
We've been visited by a stray hound dog in the last few days. She's a young female, apparently abandoned by the stream under the bridge. She saw Amos doing his rounds and came to call. We shooed her away as best we could for a day or two, afraid she might lead him astray; but having determined she doesn't belong to anybody in the neighborhood, Louis lured her into our unused kennel yesterday with the promise of food, and she's there now (it's Sunday) until we can find somebody to take her.
Agassiz is retiring.
The summer promises to be long and hot and dry. May the weather suit your soul wherever you may be.
We had hail in April, or was it May, big balls of it that lasted ten minutes or so during a warm spring storm, making water splash high in the pool and cooling the air as we watched from under the shelter of the carport.
We had a visit from Emma and her parents close enough to her first birthday that we celebrated. She got blue frosting all over her mouth. She's standing on her own now, for a second or two, and so pleased she claps to congratulate herself and falls down.
Phoebe found a snake in one of the garden railroad ties that hadn't quite pulled itself all the way in. She liked playing with its tail. The neighbor who looked after Phoebe and Amos while we were away for a weekend in early June wasn't so amused and shot the snake when it ventured out into the yard.
We've been visited by a stray hound dog in the last few days. She's a young female, apparently abandoned by the stream under the bridge. She saw Amos doing his rounds and came to call. We shooed her away as best we could for a day or two, afraid she might lead him astray; but having determined she doesn't belong to anybody in the neighborhood, Louis lured her into our unused kennel yesterday with the promise of food, and she's there now (it's Sunday) until we can find somebody to take her.
Agassiz is retiring.
The summer promises to be long and hot and dry. May the weather suit your soul wherever you may be.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Is my excuse for being absent so long -- since early November -- that the winter has been so mild? If it had been severe, I'd have had that excuse! So I don't have an excuse.
Meantime, New York City is digging out of a record-breaking 26.9 inches of snow that fell on Sunday. Ironically, we were sorry not to be there: to experience it, and to share it with our friends. But we were less sorry on Monday, when it was a work day, and still less sorry on Tuesday, when it was producing record-sized puddles.
Our septic tank died a couple of weeks ago. Nobody knew where the darn thing was exactly, though we had been told the general area. There was no visible indication on the ground surface.
The plumber had to bring in his backhoe (ditch witch). After several hours of digging, he found a clay pipe -- seven feet down! The next day he dug a trench, following the pipe, and after several more hours, found the 40-year-old tank, a concrete and cinderblock affair that was worn to within an inch of being gone completely! Roots were growing through the pipe fittings, clogging the works.
Once the new tank comes and they install it (and a new drain field), the plumber's going to bury and abandon the old tank, like Chernobyl!
Welcome, as my daughter says, to home ownership!
But we're happy. The place looks great, we're working hard, the baby's got two teeth, the animals are healthy, and it's almost about to be spring!
Happy (old) New Year, friends! May this year bring you all the blessings of health and happiness, peace and productivity.
Meantime, New York City is digging out of a record-breaking 26.9 inches of snow that fell on Sunday. Ironically, we were sorry not to be there: to experience it, and to share it with our friends. But we were less sorry on Monday, when it was a work day, and still less sorry on Tuesday, when it was producing record-sized puddles.
Our septic tank died a couple of weeks ago. Nobody knew where the darn thing was exactly, though we had been told the general area. There was no visible indication on the ground surface.
The plumber had to bring in his backhoe (ditch witch). After several hours of digging, he found a clay pipe -- seven feet down! The next day he dug a trench, following the pipe, and after several more hours, found the 40-year-old tank, a concrete and cinderblock affair that was worn to within an inch of being gone completely! Roots were growing through the pipe fittings, clogging the works.
Once the new tank comes and they install it (and a new drain field), the plumber's going to bury and abandon the old tank, like Chernobyl!
Welcome, as my daughter says, to home ownership!
But we're happy. The place looks great, we're working hard, the baby's got two teeth, the animals are healthy, and it's almost about to be spring!
Happy (old) New Year, friends! May this year bring you all the blessings of health and happiness, peace and productivity.
Friday, November 04, 2005
It's Indian summer here. Temperature in the high 70s, sunny and lovely. Enjoy it while it lasts!
My daughter sent me new pictures of the baby. Emma has grown so much since the last time I saw her, at Labor Day, the pictures took my breath away! Time is rushing past like the big winds of the stratosphere!
On the other hand, Louis and I went down to the Modoc Speedway again last Saturday night for the big $10,000 race. Our friends were racing. What an experience! It was loud, dirty and cold -- but we had a wonderful time! The cars are rattletraps, but so colorfully painted and lovingly tended! All the winnings go back into the cars.
They're brought to the Speedway in trailers practically the size of houses, and the trailers have widow's walks on top so that the owners and mechanics and their families can stand or sit up there to watch the races! It's definitely a family affair, with wives and children of all ages hovering around the cars in the pit. We sat in the pit bleachers. We ate hot dogs and French fries and drank hot chocolate. It may be warm during the days now, in October and November, but the nights are cold.
We didn't get home until what would have been 3AM except for the change in the clocks back to standard time. The big race came last of all the races and took more than 2 hours to run because every time a car spun out or collided with another car or lost a roof or had some other mishap, the race had to be stopped so the roof could be put back on or some other piece of metal could be torn off altogether or the car could limp or be towed off the track, which is what happened to our friends' car. Something stopped the race on nearly every lap--and we were told the race was 50 laps long. We lost count! So you can see why it took forever!
Dirty with red dust, cold, tired and delighted were we.
Everything had to be washed on Sunday.
My daughter sent me new pictures of the baby. Emma has grown so much since the last time I saw her, at Labor Day, the pictures took my breath away! Time is rushing past like the big winds of the stratosphere!
On the other hand, Louis and I went down to the Modoc Speedway again last Saturday night for the big $10,000 race. Our friends were racing. What an experience! It was loud, dirty and cold -- but we had a wonderful time! The cars are rattletraps, but so colorfully painted and lovingly tended! All the winnings go back into the cars.
They're brought to the Speedway in trailers practically the size of houses, and the trailers have widow's walks on top so that the owners and mechanics and their families can stand or sit up there to watch the races! It's definitely a family affair, with wives and children of all ages hovering around the cars in the pit. We sat in the pit bleachers. We ate hot dogs and French fries and drank hot chocolate. It may be warm during the days now, in October and November, but the nights are cold.
We didn't get home until what would have been 3AM except for the change in the clocks back to standard time. The big race came last of all the races and took more than 2 hours to run because every time a car spun out or collided with another car or lost a roof or had some other mishap, the race had to be stopped so the roof could be put back on or some other piece of metal could be torn off altogether or the car could limp or be towed off the track, which is what happened to our friends' car. Something stopped the race on nearly every lap--and we were told the race was 50 laps long. We lost count! So you can see why it took forever!
Dirty with red dust, cold, tired and delighted were we.
Everything had to be washed on Sunday.
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