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Ear Bug

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 21, 2024| Leave a Comment »

There is a constant buzzing in my ears. Inside the house, it’s manageable; outside it’s another story. Shall I start from the beginning?

The Bride and Groom had scheduled a trip and we were all IN to be working grandparents… and granddog parents of course. Then it hit me – a sore throat. Why is it that ever since the pandemic, getting a common cold feels like a death sentence? I tried to keep my distance from the Grands – we ordered pizza for dinner – Bob did the driving – dog walking was passed down to the Bug and the Pumpkin. The problem is, Maple, the black/mix/killer/rescue dog, is on one mission and one mission only: she is single-mindedly determined to

Eat as Many Cicadas in One Walk as She Can Find!

“Ewwww Nana,” my granddaughter said, “she ate two cicadas while they were mating! and I could hear them screaming.” If that’s not a Hitchcock film in the making…

I tried to make light of the Bug’s budding fear of bugs. After all, I’ve picked hundreds of ticks off of dogs and children (and myself) over the years, and they can find some pretty strange places to burrow. I was proud of the baby Bride when we moved back to NJ because she was the only one of her friends who would pick up a daddy longlegs. We were country people, people!

But here we are, living in a semi-genteel southern city that has been attacked by cicadas. Granted they don’t bite, or transmit a horrible disease, still they are dang ugly, and LOUD. Their chorus is around 100 decibels in TN, akin to a Harley only not as nice. We still have our old windows in our new cottage so I can hear them humming all day. It’s like I have chronic tinnitus, with a cold to boot. When I venture outside to water the garden, the trees are shimmering with them and the noise is no joke.

I’ve swept the patio, picked them out of my new patio poufs, and we’ve been in charge of the neighbor’s pool while they are away which means Bob is routinely skimming around 50 dead cicadas every day from their filter. But the last straw was on Sunday when I was swimming with the Grands. I sent Bob home with the kiddos so I could finish my water exercises. I was so deeply grateful to be back in the pool, the water was warm and the sun was shining after a week of rain.

As I was getting out of the pool, feeling the weight of gravity return, a cicada flew right into my right ear!

It was screeching to get out. I was screaming for it to get out and banging the other side of my head. Somehow I knew not to put my finger inside my ear, I guess some medical knowledge does rub off? I grabbed my towel and ran into the street not caring what anyone might think of this wet haired swim suited crazy banshee woman. But in the few minutes it took to run across the street and find Bob, it must have flown out. After a quick investigation with an otoscope, I was pronounced cicada free!

Last night the adult children returned, and now we must pack for our next trip to Italy! I wonder if they have cicadas in Tuscany?

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Travelogue

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 30, 2024| 2 Comments »

Yesterday, the mama robin aggressively chased a squirrel out of our backyard. First he ran up our maple tree, then he jumped to the fence, and she kept at him, dive-bombing him out of sight. I knew she had babies to feed, because after family dinner Sunday night we all got to see them. Nerd Alert – Bob and the Groom hooked up a fiber optic scope to a broom and gingerly raised it above the robin’s nest in the corner eave of our patio – 3 little yellow beaks attached to fuzz appeared on the monitor!

It was a welcome sight.

Last weekend a perfectly healthy young man, a local chef, died running the St Jude’s Nashville Marathon. He collapsed at the 22 mile marker, and the Bride was on duty at her hospital. It is never easy on the first responders and the medical team when a young person dies. Bob has treated his fair share of accidental deaths; a toddler falling into a hot tub, a child slipping through the ice. It takes a toll.

But this is my daughter, and she has children of her own. Now she was tasked with consoling another mother – do they teach this in medical school? The runner’s whole family came from NY to watch him achieve his goal. His name is Joe Fecci and he was 26 years old, may his memory be a blessing. A Top Chef winner he worked with over the years posted this on Insta:

“I keep telling myself not to just keep asking why, but it’s hard. because i’m fucking angry and i’m heartbroken but i am grateful. i’m grateful i hired a 19 yo kid from new york sight unseen bc he sent me an email. i’m grateful he spent two years sharing a kitchen with me.”

https://people.com/joey-fecci-chef-26-dies-running-nashville-half-marathon-8640818

Almost every evening after dinner, Bob and I will take a short stroll and end up sitting on our patio. We watch the robin pair take turns feeding their fledglings. Baby rabbits chase each other around our cherry tree. But it’s not a Disneyesque moviescape. We also hear the never-ending sounds of destruction construction around us – the saws, the drills, the trees falling. I think about our fragility in the world, and how lightly we should tread. I’ve finished planting flower pots in shades of pink and purple blooms, I want to surround our small cottage with beauty.

And Bob has planted his vegetables in raised beds so as not to feed the rabbits. But they need to eat too don’t you think? Here on Saturday, we stopped for a picture at the Farmer’s Market with our cousins and their delightful friends from NJ. They are younger, their children are in college, grad schools and working their first jobs. They are in-waiting for grandchildren. We are all defending our nests.

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4 States; 3 Days; 2 Grandchildren; 1 Totality

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 10, 2024| 2 Comments »

We arrived home Monday night around 10 pm.

A road trip back from witnessing the Total Eclipse of the Sun in Illinois took us 8 hours… instead of the usual 3. We joined the stream of satisfied Totality chasers heading south-east on 2 lanes, packed like lemmings, traveling stop and go on Interstate 24; the only highway between Carbondale, IL and Nashville, TN. It was almost an hour wait at the Cracker Barrel, so we ate Lorna Doones in the car and sang along to a Beatles station. A perfect end to an incredible weekend.

On Saturday morning, Bob and I flew to Durham, NC for the Memorial of a dear, old friend, forever nicknamed “The Smiler.” We attended Sacred Heart School together, but his reputation took flight in public high school as that Dude, The OG Dude. The guy who took life as it came, with a sly sense of humor. Sweet and unassuming, yet whip smart – Jeopardy level smart. Always willing to help his friends, as if the comic book high school hero Archie turned into a 60s hippie. The Smiler went to Woodstock with the Big Chill crew, then settled down delivering blood for the Red Cross in his signature porkpie hat.

All through the years, he and my good friend Bess were soulmates. Even though they married other people, they shared a daughter, Guinevere Turner. If you recall, Bess was the smartest girl in high school, and we both went to college in Boston – only I dropped out to get married and she dropped into a cult. In the Smiler’s backyard, Guinevere, an actor and screenwriter, led the memorial recounting the first time she met her father at the age of 18. Last year she published her memoir about those early formative years in the Lyman Family cult, “When the World Didn’t End.”

The next morning we flew home, only to get in the car and drive 2 hours to Kentucky with the Bride and family in preparation for the eclipse. We all managed to catch the second half of the Women’s NCAA Basketball Championships in our Paducah hotel. SC trounced Iowa 87-75. I marveled at how far women’s sports have come since I played basketball at Camp St Joseph. I understood why Coach Dawn Staley broke down in tears after the game, even if the Bug didn’t get it. I grew up trying to control my tears – big girls don’t cry, you never cry in public – but sometimes they burst out of you instead of simmering to overflowing.

The next morning, we drove to Southern Illinois University’s Saluki Stadium and parked with our fellow stargazers. It was the Super Bowl for space nerds. I learned a lot that day. For instance, bulldogs aren’t the only dogs a school can adopt for a mascot. I’d never heard of the Saluki breed, but they look like the progeny of an Afghan hound and a Whippet! And did you know that if you pretend that the sun is an empty ball, you would need 1 million earths to fill it up? Also, plan to charge your EV before a once in a lifetime event.

It was all worth the wait and the driving. It was everything and more. We saw the Totality for over 4 minutes which was great, but the Grands jumping for joy was the bestest! A cosmic dance the universe choreographs for a select few on this earth, and for us twice in a lifetime. In 2017 the Totality passed right over Nashville, so I knew what to expect – the slow-moving cold, the night crickets. But seeing the moon intersect the sun while our Grands were experiencing the same other-worldly, celestial magic trick was unforgettable. ps – the Pumpkin is hiding behind his sister.

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From Soup to Sanity

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on February 27, 2024| Leave a Comment »

This has been the winter for strengthening one of my super powers – SOUP! During the pandemic, while Bob honed in on his sourdough bread, I discovered a delicious Asparagus Vegetable Soup recipe courtesy of Jamie Oliver https://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/vegetables-recipes/creamy-asparagus-soup-with-a-poached-egg-on-toast/. I don’t do the egg on top nonsense btw. Now, due to unforeseen circumstances, I’ve been experimenting with more healthy and hearty soups. My take on these liquid elixirs is usually thick, like a stew.

But I’d rather not label these gastronomic efforts; or maybe I should just call everything I make in one big pot “chowder”? Thinking chowder was meant only for fish stews, I went in search of its meaning and yes, it’s mostly fish, but not always – https://www.foodandwine.com/soup/chowder/chowder

The problem with Bob is he’s not happy when I whip out the immersion blender. He likes a chunky soup, he wants to identify the vegetables. Maybe it’s just that we still have all our teeth? I did manage to win him over with a beautiful, cauliflower soup from the New York Times: Creamy Cauliflower Soup with Rosemary Olive Oil! https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1020764-creamy-cauliflower-soup-with-rosemary-olive-oil that surprisingly has no cream whatsoever!

I’m probably best known for the soup I deliver to new moms and friends recovering from an illness. We have a cousin who was in need of some Jewish penicillin, so last week I taught his wife, Peg, how to make it, Reform Jewish Style. When I was in the middle of converting to Judaism, the rabbi arranged a cooking class for me. You guessed it – Real Chicken Soup! No matzah balls, no noodles or rice, just the basics. I’ve never felt so professional as I passed on my secret recipe to Peg in her new kitchen! She was a delightful sous chef, while also archiving the lesson for all eternity.

I brought my Starbucks apron and we traded tidbits of of gossip, chopping away, slowly perfuming the air with chicken fat. Maybe the world needs the next Southern Jewish French Irish Julia Child? My cousin is also a writer, a prolific expository health journalist, for major digital and print news outlets. In fact, she already has a cookbook… and I might have major writer-envy… but in a good way. I’m so happy Peg and her husband moved right across the river.

The Bride’s famous Sweet Potato Soup was recently discussed in detail here https://mountainmornings.net/2024/01/24/gray-swan-events/ and it continues to be a favorite in my winter soup rotation. Don’t despair if you don’t have any V8 on hand, you can substitute a can of fire-roasted tomatoes. I love the dollop of peanut butter you add at the end. This might be my favorite soup of 2023, and next on the list?

I’d like to try my hand at Pasta e Fagioli, a classic Italian pasta and bean soup. The Flapper used to make this all the time. I asked my brother and sister if they remembered a favorite soup from their childhood, and they both said Pea Soup. They like to remind me that their early years were much harder than mine. After our Year of Living Dangerously, Kay told me she had to do all of the housework, including cooking, while our mother was “… lying on the couch in the kitchen.” Jim told me if they had a ham to eat during the week, they could count on pea soup made with the bone that weekend.

They had no TV in 1949, and the radio was stuck in a big box in the front parlor, so the Flapper read aloud poems from a little red book, “A Thousand and One Poems.” Kay has all these poems stored away in her brain that she can recite at will. Just ask her! Occasionally a nurse would visit the kitchen in Scranton, trying to stretch out the Flapper’s legs, while I imagine my Mother screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs. Poetry and cursing in motion.

Making soup has become my antidote to cursing the media for leading every story with you know who. What about calling anorexia “terminal” so that patients can enter hospice? “In Colorado, a state where medical aid in dying is legal, [patients] would also be eligible for MAID (medical aid in dying) drugs…” https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2024/02/26/terminal-anorexia-mental-illness-diagnosis/

What about Alabama calling embryos “babies”? “In a recent court case over embryos accidentally destroyed at a fertility clinic, the Alabama Supreme Court ruled under state law that all embryos are “children”. However, the global medical and scientific consensus on when reproductive cells become human life says otherwise.”

https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20240226-what-is-an-embryo-global-medical-definition-of-personhood-ivf-ruling

Ooof. I’ll continue making soup to calm my Novemberphobia.

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Will You Be Mine?

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , on February 13, 2024| Leave a Comment »

I can hear mourning doves outside my snug window. Their cooing soothes me into Spring. Are they looking for a lost love, or just announcing their presence? The sprinkling of snow we had last night must have given them plenty to coo about…

The Love Bug ordered heart shaped candies with romantic sayings on my phone with a swipe. She’s making Valentine confections for school. Over the weekend, Leslie left us heart shaped shortbread cookies wrapped in red ribbon, her latest in a series of delightful porch surprise packages. Bob’s ordered a special dinner from our local restaurant for tomorrow, complete with champagne. Cupid seems to be alive and well in Nashville, sharpening his little arrow this week.

And to top off this romantic week, the Rocker and Aunt Kiki celebrated 7 years of marital bliss in their newly renovated MidCenturyModern LA nest, while I thought about their delightful desert wedding in Palm Springs. https://mountainmornings.net/2017/02/14/happy-valentines-day/

The boys in the band flew west from NJ along with friends and family. The Bug was their flower girl while the toddler Pumpkin sported a fish taco bow tie to match his Dad’s. We stayed in a house with casitas, and I’ve longed for a casita (ie DADU in builder’s lingo) ever since. We rode a gondola up a mountain into the snow with cousins, and we fed giraffes at the zoo. California is a fairy tale come true – I felt like I belonged there. Wasn’t I the only girl skate boarding in the parking lot across from my step-father’s office in 1965? How many lemons did I squeeze into my freshly washed hair to dry in the sun? Didn’t I play the Beach Boys on repeat?

I was born to be a California Girl!

I just met a Cali grandmother on our street strolling her recently arrived grandbaby. She and her husband live in San Diego, but they are building a house one street over so they can live on the same block as their daughter. And it is not a small house, compared to our Blue Ridge home. Construction noise competes with a dove’s plaintive call. They plan on becoming migrating snow birds, like the cranes I saw in the clouds. Like us, they have adult creative/children in California. Their trusses are up and the Tyvec is on! And I know I shouldn’t envy them, it’s not a helpful emotion. But maybe it’s bringing up feelings of House Regret?

Bob’s had that feeling for decades. Great Grandma Ada’s family owned a small piece of land in Chester, NJ where her father Pinky had built a bungalow colony. A summer escape from the heat of Brooklyn, it was passed down to relatives over time. When Bob was a teenager, the aunts and uncles sold the Chester property, called Four Bridges. He’s sad about it to this day.

For me it was a villa called Papillon in the 80s. It was an older, pink patio home with a pool on the windward side of an island in the South West Indies. Not too big, not too small. It would have made a lovely vacation home. Bob wasn’t ready to commit to returning to the same place every year. Of course we did, return to that island time and time again. And each time we moaned about our lost opportunity since Papillon’s price, when it went back up for sale, had risen far beyond our reach.

Surprisingly, I don’t regret selling our mountain home, the one we built on 14 acres with a gorgeous view of the Blue Ridge. I had plans for a pond, and bunk beds for grandchildren in the basement. But moving to Nashville was an easy choice, I was tired of driving 9 hours for a visit. Plus, you know when your adult children aren’t coming home any more, their work and their children’s education begin to take precedence, and that’s how it should be. Unless you live in Italy.

Then you cannot live too far away from your Mama, it’s the rule.

But our generation of Americans, if we’re lucky enough to have a loving relationship with our kids, we get to pull up stakes and downsize. I knew what I was getting into marrying Bob – a pilot and ER doc who never sits still. His knee was shaking my desk in high school when he first stole my heart. Maybe moving back and forth between two families as a child was preparation for our nomadic life. I certainly don’t regret marrying him. I would do it all over again because my home is with him.

A psychologist said that only 5 year olds have no regrets, and sociopaths. I hope your Valentine’s Day is filled with love, of family, friends and fur babies – and very few romantic regrets.

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The 5 Highs and Lows

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , on January 2, 2024| 2 Comments »

Happy New Year! Looking back on 2023, I wanted to list the roses and the thorns – the high points and the lows:

1 The HIGHEST point of the year was our visit to the Rocker and Aunt Kiki in LA! Hiking, cooking and living the good life in the Golden State…. The LOWEST point of the year was visiting the Bride’s ER with Bob after his fall. He was wearing socks on the new wood floor and slid into a corner hitting his head. Luckily, he’s alive and well!

2. HIGH: Having my big sister, Kay, visit this past summer. We had a good time and if I’m not careful, we could turn into “Little Edie and Big Edie” and have a Lifetime movie made about us…. LOW: Losing Ms Bean was heartbreaking. She was as sweet as sugar and put up with the little Emperor’s visits because she knew I loved her best. I still expect to see her little Homer Simpson face whenever I open the front door.

3. HIGH: Lake mini-vacations with family and friends! Wildwood and Lake Barclay were wild and wonderful getaways even though I remain a devout ocean/beach person for life. LOW: The unfortunate and very painful incident of a certain little French Emperor named Watson breaking my finger. After surgery and rehab I’m the proud owner of three tiny screws in my right ring finger, although this is nothing compared to my siblings’ hip hardware!

4. HIGH: Finding a new friend right next door who insisted I continue my aqua therapy for osteoporosis in her pool!! I didn’t think I could make many new friends at my age, but we instantly hit it off and she has a grand dog we can walk together! LOW: As much as I love my new neighborhood, we did have to clean swastikas off the side of another neighbor’s house one day. So many people showed up to wash away the hateful images it turned into a block party and cancelled the hate with love.

5 HIGH: There are so many delightful instances that happen because Bob and I live so close to the Bride and Groom; stopping by for a walk with their old dog, cooking together, dropping off freshly made bagels, and of course the unexpected visit of a grandchild – those are the very BEST! LOW: We had a family of squirrels trying to squat in our attic and one even fell down into a bedroom wall. Bob hired a professional squirrel wrangler to set traps and “relocate” the critters. I stayed out of it for the most part!

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Is Fun Done?

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , , on December 25, 2023| Leave a Comment »

First of all, Merry Christmas to all who celebrate.

It’s rainy and warm here in Nashville and for a change, there will be no doctor from our family on duty in any ER or ICU! Our adult kiddos are traveling within and without the states this year so we’re all alone; we don’t even have grand dog duty. Our neighbors have taken pity on us, so we’ve had cookies and cakes dropped on our doorstep. I guess being Jewish in the South is a novel experience for many, but with Hanukkah behind us and no Chinese restaurant in sight, Bob and I plan to relax and enjoy our rainy day!

Maybe I’ll vacuum? I must confess we managed to buy a cord-free, lightweight Dyson on a cybersale Monday and it has changed my life for the better. It not only picks up everything, it shines a light on the floor or rug and displays what kind of dust and debris it’s catching on its handle! I mean, between the air purifier and the Dyson, what else do we need? I know it’s very trendy, and I hate being on trend, but I’m even dreaming about vacuuming.

What do you do for fun? If you had no cares, and nowhere to go, would you watch a football game? Would you kick your feet up and read a book, or would you strap on your sneakers and run on the treadmill? I’ve had to accommodate my changing body, but I can still mount our free Buy Nothing Facebook elliptical and do some gentle Pilates. An article in the Post caught my eye the other day, the writer posits we Americans no longer know how to have FUN! In other words, “It’s become emphatic, exhausting, scheduled, hyped, forced and performative.”

Consider what we’ve done to fun. Things that were long big fun now overwhelm, exhaust and annoy. The holiday season is an extended exercise in excess and loud, often sleazy sweaters. Instead of this being the most wonderful time of the year, we battle holiday fatigue, relentless beseeching for our money and, if Fox News is to be believed, a war on Christmas that is nearing its third decade.“

https://www.washingtonpost.com/style/of-interest/2023/12/23/fun-is-dead/

And I get it. The stress of the happy season to feel happy can be depressing. Take the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life,” Jimmy Stewart is so depressed (and drunk I might add) he’s ready to jump off a bridge until an angel recounts all the myriad ways he’s made a difference. Bob and I watched my favorite holiday movie “Love Actually” last night and all doesn’t end well in old London town. There is still infidelity and unrequited love via poster boards. And this year, in particular, even Bethlehem has cancelled Christmas because of the war.

A Biblical, age-old war between brothers, the Arabs and the Jews, both born of Abraham. His wife Sarah was too old to conceive and so Ishmael was born via her maidservant, Hagar/who/by/the/way/was/not/Jewish – the first surrogate mother in the Bible. Later, when Abraham was 100, he and Sarah had a son, Isaac. Guess which son inherits the fertile crescent? They are still working this out, because one brother does not want to share, sound familiar? From the Camp David Accords in 1978 to the Oslo Accords in 1993 only one side has refused a two state solution, the Palestinians.

If the Irish and the English worked things out, the Bosnians and the Serbs, and the North and the South for that matter, I’m left wondering why peace is so illusive in the Mideast. Who is benefitting from this war? The leaders of Hamas who sit comfortably in Qatar, reportedly billionaires who live luxuriously while their people suffer. The right-leaning Israeli leaders who have cemented their hold on Netanyahu’s government after October 7 surely. But money, power, oil and water are not the only answers in this multi-generational feud. Plus, why must an American president work out an accord? Where are the leaders in the Arab world, the kings and sheiks who pull the strings?

I didn’t mean to leave you with a sour note this morning. In fact, since I cannot control the Mideast and unless you happen to be a Secretary of State neither can you, it seems imperative that we do what we can to practice compassion – both for ourselves and others – as we head into a new year. May you do what makes you happy today and Merry Cleaning!

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Authentically Yours

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , on November 28, 2023| 3 Comments »

“This above all: to thine own self be true.”

This was the Hamlet quote I penned in the Rocker’s high school senior yearbook. It follows that if one is true to oneself, then telling the truth to others should come easy. Just like all those Republicans who have decided not to run for reelection are now spouting the truth. Of course Joe Biden won the election, although they may still follow that up with a conspiracy theory or two. Rep (R) Ken Buck of Colorado, who was evicted from his Capitol building office after voting against Jim Jordan for Speaker said:

“Our nation is on a collision course with reality and a steadfast commitment to truth, even uncomfortable truths, is the only way forward,” 

False news and disinformation have become ubiquitous for this generation. Maybe that explains why the word of the year is, “Authentic.” It was 2023’s most searched word in this country, “…driven by stories and conversations about AI [artificial intelligence], celebrity culture, identity, and social media”, according to the Merriam Webster dictionary. They define “authentic” as:

… not false or imitation; true to one’s own personality, spirit, or character; worthy of acceptance or belief as conforming to or based on fact; genuine, bona fide, being actually and exactly what is claimed. authentic implies being fully trustworthy.” 

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/authentic

Wouldn’t an “authentic politician” be an oxymoron? The Flapper certainly thought so; it was all downhill after FDR.

My son must have followed that yearbook admonition of over 20 years ago. because he and his wife Kiki are as authentically legit as it gets! We had the best quiet Thanksgiving week with them cooking, hiking, making music, playing board games and generally chillaxing. The Pumpkin is learning to shred a guitar like his Uncle, and the Bug wowed Kiki with her basketball prowess. The little emperor commonly known as Watson the Frenchie kept us all laughing while watching the National Dog Show. I was rooting for the Welsh Corgi of course!

When I was young, I’d hear girls say they could “be themselves” around some boy. A good sign I thought, to be able to trust someone else, to be vulnerable. But then, did that mean that most of the time this girl was not being herself? Being true to yourself is a high bar. Still, I wish todays’ young girls didn’t feel the need to conform, or compete with each other. Granted I was a knee sock, Weejun wearing preppy in high school. New penny loafers had to be blackened just so with polish before wearing; we all get to pick our own tribes. And for most of us, college and real life help soften the edges.

If we are all on a collision course with the truth, we better fasten our seat belts. There are still insurrectionists masquerading in Congress; in fact 147 Republicans (139 representatives and 8 senators) voted NOT to certify the election on the evening of January 6, 2021… after running for their lives during the insurrection. The ringleader of this kooky coup, Jordan, was nearly elected speaker! Plus, we have the many trials and tribulations of the Republican front-runner to suffer through.

So put your thinking beanies on everybody. Let’s check the facts, and vote like your life and liberty depend on it. Because they do.

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Being Afraid

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , on October 31, 2023| Leave a Comment »

It’s Halloween. Some people like going through haunted houses, dressing up with ghoulish makeup, and tricking you into handing out candy. Perfectly normal women become sexy French maids. Not me. I won’t watch horror movies or anything with zombies. In fact, I was watching a trailer with Ralph Fiennes in LA that caught me off guard – what appeared to be a cooking contest turned into something else entirely. I closed my eyes.

Did I say LA? Yes, Bob and I took a short, stealth trip out West to see the Rocker and Aunt Kiki. We flew in to see their finished home perched on a hill. It was so sweet to sit and talk, watch Cooper’s hawks gliding above us, and play backgammon. We didn’t Go Go GO! Instead, Bob taught them how to make pasta from scratch. I found myself looking around, at their beautiful home, at the amazing life they are building together in California, and catching my breath.

Kiki came home with her studio’s new coffee table book, so I immediately ordered mine. The living room on the cover is divinely inspired…. “Shamshiri: Interiors.” I’m lucky to have such an outstanding designer daughter on speed dial! Then we went for a seaview walk hike and I saw my first wild coyote.

The coyote is a medium-sized member of the dog family that includes wolves and foxes. With pointed ears, a slender muzzle, and a drooping bushy tail, the coyote often resembles a German shepherd or collie. Coyotes are usually a grayish brown with reddish tinges behind the ears and around the face but coloration can vary from a silver-gray to black. The tail usually has a black tip. Eyes are yellow, rather than brown like many domestic dogs. Most adults weigh between 25-35 pounds…”

https://urbancoyoteresearch.com/coyote-info/general-information-about-coyotes

It actually did look like a skinny wolf. I wasn’t afraid of the coyote, but I understood why my son’s cats must stay inside. They are predators and usually hunt rodents and rabbits, not people. You’re supposed to make a lot of noise if you see one, and indeed this guy looked at us, turned around and slowly sashayed away. I could picture his text bubble: “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

We’re back in Nashville and luckily I bought tons of candy before we left. Our new/old house is in a neighborhood of young families. I didn’t count last year, but I hope I don’t run out of treats tonight. There’s a skeleton waving from my front porch rocking chair and that’s the extent of my spooky decorating skills this year. After a week that’s seen another mass shooting in Maine of all places, and more and more anti-semitic rhetoric on social media I’m feeling enraged – but I guess that’s better than fear.

I will not let fear dictate my behavior.

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Quilting Pumpkins

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , on October 23, 2023| 1 Comment »

It’s true, I’m just an old arts and crafts counselor at heart, who was masquerading as a boating and canoeing counselor at Camp St Joseph for Girls. Teaching water skiing by day, and knitting at night. Over the years I’ve tackled: crocheting Irish flowers; needlepointing fancy footstools; Celtic cable knitting; sewing pandemic masks; and quilting elephant crib toys. Those tiny grey elephants of differing shades and textures, suspended over a new baby’s crib, gave me the most pleasure. That is, until now.

The arts festival we bumped into on our glamping getaway is the reason my kitchen is doubling as a sewing room, again. The owner of a little shop had the cutest small, handsewn pumpkins I’d ever seen. If you’d rather have a real pumpkin slowly dying on your front porch read no further. Bob and I are finished carving pumpkins and roasting seeds. But if I were to decorate, and that’s always a big IF, for Halloween, I’d want something sustainable that can do double duty on Thanksgiving. So I paid attention when instructions were given on how to quilt patchwork pumpkins, and then I heard,

“You can always look it up on Pinterest, DIY Fat Quarter Pumpkins!”

What the heck are fat quarters? Well a fat quarter is a piece of fabric cut crosswise from a 1⁄2-yard piece of fabric – ie an 18×44″ rectangle cut in half to yield an 18×22″ “fat” 1⁄4-yard piece. And it just so happens the store had bunches of ‘fat quarters’ already cut in lots of fall colors and patterns ready to sell. Surprise. My next grandparenting craft activity, after mosaic birdbaths, was set! I hauled out the ironing board and iron and started cutting out cardboard ellipses as pumpkin templates.

It just so happens that the war in Israel and Gaza has been escalating in tandem with my pumpkin project. The Grands finished their pumpkins in a day last weekend, but then I couldn’t stop. In the middle of a brutal conflict half a world away, I’ve found some comfort in keeping my hands busy, in making something beautiful despite growing despair. Bob reminds me that I have no control over the Mideast; I remind myself that I do have control over needle and thread.

I walk through the Fall garden, still trying valiantly to hang on. The sage and rosemary are bountiful while the tarragon begins to wither. This is my favorite time of year – a time to think about new beginnings, for harvesting, a birthday season for my family. The unbearable heat of a southern summer is gone. This is the time of year to witness squirrels collecting nuts and cardinals standing out like sentries in trees.

Thankfully my Parnassus book arrived in the mail – “The Comfort of Crows: a Backyard Year,” by Margaret Renkl. Her words about nature, about the flora and fauna in her own backyard, are a balm. Her stories soothe me into sleep.

As we move through the seasons—from a crow spied on New Year’s Day, its resourcefulness and sense of community setting a theme for the year—what develops is a portrait of joy and grief. Joy at the ongoing pleasures of the natural world: “Until the very last cricket falls silent, the beauty-besotted will always find a reason to love the world.” And grief at a shifting climate, at winters that end too soon, at songbirds growing fewer and fewer.” 

https://www.parnassusbooks.net/comfortofcrows

And the universal grief of war. I have to believe, to hope that peace is attainable. So I’ll continue to quilt as a meditation.

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