When I was a little girl, I couldn't WAIT for Wednesday summer afternoons. I'd gobble up my peanut-butter-and-jelly lunch, grab my books, and run out the kitchen door. I often made it to the start of the path through the woods before the screen door even slammed shut behind me. I'd scurry through the woods; my feet barely touched the ground!
As I climbed up the high cement stairs that led from the pond to their back porch, Heidi, the dashchund, would announce my arrival. Nanny would be cleaning up from their lunch, and Pop-pop would snap open a paper grocery sack, fill it, and take his keys out of his pocket as he headed out the door with his heavy load. I was always amazed at the bulging bag as I skipped out the door after him.
If it was early enough in the summer, I could still smell the pungent-sweet lilacs alongside the garage. The dark grey Studebaker would slowly back out of the garage and I would open the heavy door and eagerly hop up onto the front seat. It was long, long before the era of seat belts and airbags so even when I was six or seven, I sat up front next to Pop-pop. The short, stiff pile of the bench seat tickled the back of my legs; I'd trace my name into the fabric and then magically erase the letters with a sweep of my hand as we headed down Riverbank Road toward the firehouse.
I didn't pay too much attention when Pop-pop drove; I was too busy flipping through the pages of the books I'd soon part with. Actually, it wasn't until I was a bit older that I realized that Pop-pop wasn't a very good driver. At the end of our road, we needed to cross through a blind intersection. Pop-pop must have been thinking about his books, too; he simply drove right past the stop sign and pointed the car to the north.
As we approached the firehouse, Pop-pop would slow the car and pull to the side of the road. He'd put on the emergency brake and turn off the car's engine. I'd roll the window down just enough to catch a warm breeze but not let in any mosquitoes. The only sound was the ticking of the dashboard clock as the second hand moved around the face. We were always about five minutes early. I'd crane my neck to bring my ear up closer to the open window and listen. Hard. Pop-pop would suck on his pipe, now smokeless, and then turn it upside down over the ashtray. He'd rhythmically tap out the spent tobacco and gently place the pipe up on the dashboard. We didn't talk much, but there was certainly a routine to our waiting.
Suddenly, I'd hear a rumble in the distance. "I can hear it! I can hear it, Pop-pop!" I squealed, pulling my legs up under me to sit up even taller. Pop-pop grinned silently at me and reached for his bag. I eagerly stacked and re-stacked my books on my lap and leaned as far forward as I could to see what was coming. The bookmobile is here! The bookmobile is here! As it came into view, Pop-pop and I each opened our car door and slid out. I came around to the front of his car, and waited impatiently as the huge vehicle pulled in front of the firehouse bays and the diesel engine cut out. Then I quickly grabbed Pop-pop's hand and pulled him across the street.
We were always the first in line. The librarian lowered the folding steps and greeted us with a smile. "Hello, Kathe! Good afternoon, Colonel!" I proudly climbed the stairs, placed my books on the small circulation desk and ran to the back of the bookmobile---the children's section. Here was where I would spend delicious, Wednesday summer afternoons. . .savoring voyages to far away places where I could make new, strange friends in the pages of books.
Ah. Summer.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
At Nanny's Knee
I learned much from my grandmother.
Nanny and Pop-pop lived right next door and as children, we had an open invitation to visit them whenever we wanted. My favorite way to go to Nanny and Pop-pop's house was through the woods. A worn path led me there, and after a spring rain, gooey puddles would always pop up at the same spots -- the oblong puddle by the gnarled maple tree root, a series of three smaller puddles by the large boulder, and the biggest puddle near the end of the path where you could finally spot the red house on the hill. Nanny and Pop-pop's backdoor was always unlocked.
A chance to spend the night at Nanny and Pop-pop's was an extra special treat ---
usually my younger sister Anne and I would sleep in the guest room together. I would carefully pack my tiny red plaid suitcase with clean pajamas and playclothes for the next day. After dinner, we'd visit and before long, it was off to bed. My favorite part of the visit was when Nanny read to us at bedtime! She'd sit on the edge of the bed and read another chapter from Uncle Wiggly --I could hardly wait to hear each new chapter, and sometimes she'd spoil us and even read two. When she kissed us good-night and shut off the light, a tiny red nightlight winked on the light switch for the bathroom while I fell asleep dreaming of Uncle Wiggly and his friends.
When I got a little older, Nanny loaned me a book from her own bookshelf. I had been eyeing it curiously for several years. It had a beautiful turquoise
dust-jacket, and I remember Nanny telling me that the book -- The Stillmeadow Road by Gladys Taber -- was one of her favorites, and that it was really written for grown-ups. It was a big vote of confidence when she told me she was sure that I'd enjoy it; I felt so special. And today, a copy of that book --- complete with its blue dust-jacket -- sits on my bookshelf today. Perhaps I'll be able to share it with a grandchild someday.
I didn't appreciate Nanny's gardening very much when I was a little girl. Her very large garden was filled with vegetables in shades of green, red, and yellow. I hated pulling weeds because I didn't like the chance encounter with a garter snake or large worm. I was never very excited to help at picking time either. Too bad I didn't pay better attention back then. I often wish Nanny were here to help me when I have questions about a certain plant or shrub.
When I was ten or eleven, Nanny first taught me how to use her Singer sewing machine.
The narrow sewing room was at the top of the stairs. A window overlooked the driveway and let in the midday sun. The wooden cutting table that Pop-pop had fashioned for her was hinged to the wall under the window. To the left of the cutting table, tucked into an eave, was a green dresser that held all kinds of treasures--drawers of fabric scraps, zippers, bias tape, and grosgrain ribbons. I loved to unfold the bits of pinked fabric and lay them out on the cutting table -- I could quickly identify leftovers from some of Nanny's blouses, and from many favorite dresses and jumpers that Nanny made for me and my sisters. A deep, round tin on top of the dresser held hundreds of buttons -- square, round, 2-hole, 4-hole, and in just about every color you could imagine. I'd run my fingers through the buttons like they were gold bullion; they were cool and smooth and sounded like nothing else. Spools of thread stood at attention on the wall just to the right of the sewing machine. With Nanny over my shoulder, I was nothing less than a princess seated in the black wooden chair at the old Singer. She guided my hands and knee as the machine whirred and pushed the sharp needle in an almost-straight line through the crisp cotton fabric.
I still have a box of Nanny's fabric scraps--the colors are somewhat faded but still magical-- and a prized quilt she made with so many pieces of my childhood frocks graces our summer bed.
Spending time with Nanny felt safe and light. I can still remember the sound of her backdoor as I eagerly opened it. "Hello? Who's there? Come on in!" A smile burst across my face as I made a bee-line through the kitchen and into the living room where she greeted me with a big hug and a kiss. I miss her so much.
Nanny and Pop-pop lived right next door and as children, we had an open invitation to visit them whenever we wanted. My favorite way to go to Nanny and Pop-pop's house was through the woods. A worn path led me there, and after a spring rain, gooey puddles would always pop up at the same spots -- the oblong puddle by the gnarled maple tree root, a series of three smaller puddles by the large boulder, and the biggest puddle near the end of the path where you could finally spot the red house on the hill. Nanny and Pop-pop's backdoor was always unlocked.
A chance to spend the night at Nanny and Pop-pop's was an extra special treat ---
usually my younger sister Anne and I would sleep in the guest room together. I would carefully pack my tiny red plaid suitcase with clean pajamas and playclothes for the next day. After dinner, we'd visit and before long, it was off to bed. My favorite part of the visit was when Nanny read to us at bedtime! She'd sit on the edge of the bed and read another chapter from Uncle Wiggly --I could hardly wait to hear each new chapter, and sometimes she'd spoil us and even read two. When she kissed us good-night and shut off the light, a tiny red nightlight winked on the light switch for the bathroom while I fell asleep dreaming of Uncle Wiggly and his friends.When I got a little older, Nanny loaned me a book from her own bookshelf. I had been eyeing it curiously for several years. It had a beautiful turquoise
dust-jacket, and I remember Nanny telling me that the book -- The Stillmeadow Road by Gladys Taber -- was one of her favorites, and that it was really written for grown-ups. It was a big vote of confidence when she told me she was sure that I'd enjoy it; I felt so special. And today, a copy of that book --- complete with its blue dust-jacket -- sits on my bookshelf today. Perhaps I'll be able to share it with a grandchild someday.I didn't appreciate Nanny's gardening very much when I was a little girl. Her very large garden was filled with vegetables in shades of green, red, and yellow. I hated pulling weeds because I didn't like the chance encounter with a garter snake or large worm. I was never very excited to help at picking time either. Too bad I didn't pay better attention back then. I often wish Nanny were here to help me when I have questions about a certain plant or shrub.
When I was ten or eleven, Nanny first taught me how to use her Singer sewing machine.
The narrow sewing room was at the top of the stairs. A window overlooked the driveway and let in the midday sun. The wooden cutting table that Pop-pop had fashioned for her was hinged to the wall under the window. To the left of the cutting table, tucked into an eave, was a green dresser that held all kinds of treasures--drawers of fabric scraps, zippers, bias tape, and grosgrain ribbons. I loved to unfold the bits of pinked fabric and lay them out on the cutting table -- I could quickly identify leftovers from some of Nanny's blouses, and from many favorite dresses and jumpers that Nanny made for me and my sisters. A deep, round tin on top of the dresser held hundreds of buttons -- square, round, 2-hole, 4-hole, and in just about every color you could imagine. I'd run my fingers through the buttons like they were gold bullion; they were cool and smooth and sounded like nothing else. Spools of thread stood at attention on the wall just to the right of the sewing machine. With Nanny over my shoulder, I was nothing less than a princess seated in the black wooden chair at the old Singer. She guided my hands and knee as the machine whirred and pushed the sharp needle in an almost-straight line through the crisp cotton fabric.
I still have a box of Nanny's fabric scraps--the colors are somewhat faded but still magical-- and a prized quilt she made with so many pieces of my childhood frocks graces our summer bed.
Spending time with Nanny felt safe and light. I can still remember the sound of her backdoor as I eagerly opened it. "Hello? Who's there? Come on in!" A smile burst across my face as I made a bee-line through the kitchen and into the living room where she greeted me with a big hug and a kiss. I miss her so much.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Biking for Blueberries
Yee-haw! The blueberries are prolific this year in Maine. There is nothing like biking and stopping along the way to fill a container with blueberries. I biked seven miles today and picked almost a quart of the little blue gems. YUMMY!
And sure enough, thick fog TOTALLY socked in our part of the island. The weatherman kept predicting sunny skies by late morning (wrong, wrong, wrong) and I finally just bit the bullet and loaded my bike onto the car. (Tomorrow, they're predicting more rain, thunder, etc. so I knew I had to go today. Hmmm...maybe they'll be wrong again!)
As I drove up through Southwest Harbor, I came so close to turning back since it looked like it the fog just wasn't going to lift. And then, poof! As I approached Somesville, the sky was literally divided in half -- to the west, heavy fog, and from directly overhead to the east the sky was a divine blue. I was heading to the east side of the island to get onto the carriage roads within the park, so I kept going. And I'm so glad I did -- it was a lovely ride and the blueberries will be great for dinner and breakfast, too. What a treat!
As I drove back home I saw one of my favorite fog scenes -- looking across to the Somes Sound harbor, it was beautifully sunny, bright blue sky, and smack in the middle of the harbor -- a heap of thick fog -- it nearly glowed! Unfortunately my camera was home having its battery charged. But that's O.K. A camera never would have done this scene justice; it's hard to capture exquisite.
And sure enough, thick fog TOTALLY socked in our part of the island. The weatherman kept predicting sunny skies by late morning (wrong, wrong, wrong) and I finally just bit the bullet and loaded my bike onto the car. (Tomorrow, they're predicting more rain, thunder, etc. so I knew I had to go today. Hmmm...maybe they'll be wrong again!)
As I drove up through Southwest Harbor, I came so close to turning back since it looked like it the fog just wasn't going to lift. And then, poof! As I approached Somesville, the sky was literally divided in half -- to the west, heavy fog, and from directly overhead to the east the sky was a divine blue. I was heading to the east side of the island to get onto the carriage roads within the park, so I kept going. And I'm so glad I did -- it was a lovely ride and the blueberries will be great for dinner and breakfast, too. What a treat!
As I drove back home I saw one of my favorite fog scenes -- looking across to the Somes Sound harbor, it was beautifully sunny, bright blue sky, and smack in the middle of the harbor -- a heap of thick fog -- it nearly glowed! Unfortunately my camera was home having its battery charged. But that's O.K. A camera never would have done this scene justice; it's hard to capture exquisite.
Friday, July 25, 2008
When? Now!
What's it mean when I won't give myself permission to do the things I love to do? Reading, for instance. I collect books. I have hundreds of books --- and some of them, I've even read! But more often I play this mental game where I seem to "save up my reading time for a rainy day" -- well, guess what? It's raining! So why aren't I reading all day?
It always seems to come down to whether or not I think (on some wacky level of my psyche) I deserve to indulge in such a luxurious activity as reading (or X or Y; fill-in-the-blank with YOUR favorite activity here).
When I'm home alone, I tend to keep the TV on as company/background noise. But when the TV is on, I'm not likely to read. Maybe music would be better -- we have a huge collection of CD's -- folk, Broadway, classical, New Age, Beatles, on and on. I could certainly read while music is playing in the background (as long as I'm not singing along with a soundtrack from Wicked or Les Miz).
But it's not just reading. It's also other things I love to do -- like knitting and rughooking. And both of those activities can be done easily while watching the latest episode of The Closer, So You Think You Can Dance, or one of my favorite HGTV shows. But that second little green sleeve on Dean's sweater certainly hasn't grown on its own much in the last week or so. And I haven't pulled a loop on a rug in the month we've been here. Yikes.
So, have I forgotten how to multi-task? No, that's certainly not it; look at how much I do ON THE COMPUTER while the TV is blabbing. Hey...wait a second. That's it. It's the computer. It pulls me into its grips --- and I google my way around the world -- checking out the birds on the Cornell Ornithology Lab's nestcams, see what's on sale on Craig's List, listen to choral recordings on You Tube, read e-mail, check out new yarns, read all of my favorite blogs, and play lots and lots of Literati (online Scrabble), and on and on. Before I know it, poof! I've blown, um, spent a few hours.
Perhaps the answer is a moratorium. On all things electronic. No TV. No computer. No way. I need to figure this out. I bet others have this same challenge. Got any ideas for me? Any good books to recommend?
It always seems to come down to whether or not I think (on some wacky level of my psyche) I deserve to indulge in such a luxurious activity as reading (or X or Y; fill-in-the-blank with YOUR favorite activity here).
When I'm home alone, I tend to keep the TV on as company/background noise. But when the TV is on, I'm not likely to read. Maybe music would be better -- we have a huge collection of CD's -- folk, Broadway, classical, New Age, Beatles, on and on. I could certainly read while music is playing in the background (as long as I'm not singing along with a soundtrack from Wicked or Les Miz).
But it's not just reading. It's also other things I love to do -- like knitting and rughooking. And both of those activities can be done easily while watching the latest episode of The Closer, So You Think You Can Dance, or one of my favorite HGTV shows. But that second little green sleeve on Dean's sweater certainly hasn't grown on its own much in the last week or so. And I haven't pulled a loop on a rug in the month we've been here. Yikes.
So, have I forgotten how to multi-task? No, that's certainly not it; look at how much I do ON THE COMPUTER while the TV is blabbing. Hey...wait a second. That's it. It's the computer. It pulls me into its grips --- and I google my way around the world -- checking out the birds on the Cornell Ornithology Lab's nestcams, see what's on sale on Craig's List, listen to choral recordings on You Tube, read e-mail, check out new yarns, read all of my favorite blogs, and play lots and lots of Literati (online Scrabble), and on and on. Before I know it, poof! I've blown, um, spent a few hours.
Perhaps the answer is a moratorium. On all things electronic. No TV. No computer. No way. I need to figure this out. I bet others have this same challenge. Got any ideas for me? Any good books to recommend?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
On Little Cat Feet . . .
I love fog. And it's a good thing living so close to the ocean.
Living on an island means we can't really count on accurate weather forecasts. Many days we're told to expect sun and it rains, or to prepare for rain and it's sunny--all day. And it's very common to have dense clouds in our neighborhood and then travel only a 1/2 mile down the road and it's sunny!
But one thing we can count on is fog. LOTS of FOG. Mashed potato, pea soup, hard-to-see-your- hand-in-front-of-your-face, and yes, it comes on little cat feet fog. (Thanks, Carl S.)
Driving home from Bar Harbor at 9:30 PM means that I'm likely to encounter a fog bank on the way home. Even if it's clear in Bar Harbor. Even if I can sneak a quick peek at the stars or the bright yellow moon. Sometimes that moon is so bright, I have to resist the urge to lower the car's sun visor. WHAM! A great sheet of thick fog drops down in front of my car. As I creep through Somesville and then along the edge of Echo Lake, I become a bit disoriented. I can barely see the center line. Breathe. Breathe. Scan the road, watch for deer, scan again. Passing through Southwest Harbor even more slowly, I see only the diffuse lights of a few masts to my left. The boats of the harbor are mysteriously missing.
We had horrible thunderstorms last night (and more are predicted for tonight--yikes!). The non-stop lightning made for a sleepless, fitful night. This morning the power went out throughout all of Downeast Maine.
But as I stood at the window mid-morning and watched fingers of fog thread beautifully, effortlessly through the tall pines, leafy maples, and spent lilacs, I remembered why I love living here so much.
Gotta grab my flashlight and head off to bed! It's going to be another wild weather night here on the coast of Maine. I bet there will be some fog in the morning . . .
Living on an island means we can't really count on accurate weather forecasts. Many days we're told to expect sun and it rains, or to prepare for rain and it's sunny--all day. And it's very common to have dense clouds in our neighborhood and then travel only a 1/2 mile down the road and it's sunny!
But one thing we can count on is fog. LOTS of FOG. Mashed potato, pea soup, hard-to-see-your- hand-in-front-of-your-face, and yes, it comes on little cat feet fog. (Thanks, Carl S.)
Driving home from Bar Harbor at 9:30 PM means that I'm likely to encounter a fog bank on the way home. Even if it's clear in Bar Harbor. Even if I can sneak a quick peek at the stars or the bright yellow moon. Sometimes that moon is so bright, I have to resist the urge to lower the car's sun visor. WHAM! A great sheet of thick fog drops down in front of my car. As I creep through Somesville and then along the edge of Echo Lake, I become a bit disoriented. I can barely see the center line. Breathe. Breathe. Scan the road, watch for deer, scan again. Passing through Southwest Harbor even more slowly, I see only the diffuse lights of a few masts to my left. The boats of the harbor are mysteriously missing.
We had horrible thunderstorms last night (and more are predicted for tonight--yikes!). The non-stop lightning made for a sleepless, fitful night. This morning the power went out throughout all of Downeast Maine.
But as I stood at the window mid-morning and watched fingers of fog thread beautifully, effortlessly through the tall pines, leafy maples, and spent lilacs, I remembered why I love living here so much.
Gotta grab my flashlight and head off to bed! It's going to be another wild weather night here on the coast of Maine. I bet there will be some fog in the morning . . .
Monday, July 21, 2008
Most Inconvenient. And that's the Truth.
Apparently I am my own weather system. Let me clarify that -- a New England weather system.
Too hot? Wait a minute. Peel off a layer. Get a cold drink.
Oh, jeesh. Now I'm too cold.
Jeans. Shorts. Jeans. Back to shorts. Short sleeves. Sleeveless. Where's my sweatshirt?
Fan off. Tick, tick, tick. Five minutes pass. Fan on. Sweater off. Turn fan to oscillate. Now too cool. But only when the whirring fan hits me directly. Sweater back on. Sweater AND fan on.
Night. Sheets on. Kick sheets off. Windows open. Pull sheets back up WITH down-filled duvet. Fan on all night. Low. Now medium. Now high.
Welcome to my world.
Think Al Gore would want to know about this? Anybody got his number?
Too hot? Wait a minute. Peel off a layer. Get a cold drink.
Oh, jeesh. Now I'm too cold.
Jeans. Shorts. Jeans. Back to shorts. Short sleeves. Sleeveless. Where's my sweatshirt?
Fan off. Tick, tick, tick. Five minutes pass. Fan on. Sweater off. Turn fan to oscillate. Now too cool. But only when the whirring fan hits me directly. Sweater back on. Sweater AND fan on.
Night. Sheets on. Kick sheets off. Windows open. Pull sheets back up WITH down-filled duvet. Fan on all night. Low. Now medium. Now high.
Welcome to my world.
Think Al Gore would want to know about this? Anybody got his number?
How Timely!
I want to know how to S...L...O...W...down time and speeditup at will. Can anyone out there help me?
I don't want to miss out on a moment of our two grandsons' development. I want to savor every detail. We're SO fortunate that our darling daughter-in-law keeps a blog that we check multiple times a day, and go back to read and re-read. I love nothing more than to hear about the boys' latest shenanigans -- and when there are pictures involved, I melt! And our son, the teacher, is also a professional photographer. We. are. spoiled. (Did you see the new pics I posted of our grandsons?)
We count down the days and weeks until we'll next see them --but it seems so far off -- knowing that we'll soon have ten whole days to indulge ourselves with as many little-person-hugs-and-kisses as we could possibly want makes me wish that the next few weeks would ZIP by! Where's the switch for that??
And yet, one of my favorite things that I wish I had more time for is just sitting at the ocean's rocky edge in a beach chair with a juicy novel or a challenging book of crossword puzzles. I wish that such a long, lazy afternoon could stretch on forever. But before you know it, it's time to head home to make supper, or get to choir rehearsal. Anyone know how I could add two hours to the 12 PM-6 PM stretch? Wouldn't that be lovely?
Our daughter and her husband live just about as far away from us (on this continent) as they can--Vancouver, B.C. It's so far! And we only get to see them about once a year -- (thank goodness for ooVoo and webcams!) -- and it seems SOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo long until we'll see them again. And goodness knows, when they move to Norway in a few years, the visits may be even more infrequent. They keep a blog, too, that helps to soften the blow of so much time between in-person visits; I sure wish it weren't so long between visits.
I have an idea. How about some kind of an adjustable, compartmentalized 'time machine' where we could choose which parts of our life (time with our kids and grandkids, for example) we want to extend and savor, while simultaneously giving us the option to fast-forward through the time leading up to those delicious times? And how about being able to fast-forward through those things we don't really enjoy that much? Like EXERCISE CLASS, or arguments. And perhaps there could be an option to re-wind and re-experience the things we love the most! Honestly. How many of us have said, I really want to go back to X (insert the name of a favorite place you've traveled) because I wish I'd paid more attention, had longer there, etc., etc.
Hmmm...I wonder if I could get a patent.
I don't want to miss out on a moment of our two grandsons' development. I want to savor every detail. We're SO fortunate that our darling daughter-in-law keeps a blog that we check multiple times a day, and go back to read and re-read. I love nothing more than to hear about the boys' latest shenanigans -- and when there are pictures involved, I melt! And our son, the teacher, is also a professional photographer. We. are. spoiled. (Did you see the new pics I posted of our grandsons?)
We count down the days and weeks until we'll next see them --but it seems so far off -- knowing that we'll soon have ten whole days to indulge ourselves with as many little-person-hugs-and-kisses as we could possibly want makes me wish that the next few weeks would ZIP by! Where's the switch for that??
And yet, one of my favorite things that I wish I had more time for is just sitting at the ocean's rocky edge in a beach chair with a juicy novel or a challenging book of crossword puzzles. I wish that such a long, lazy afternoon could stretch on forever. But before you know it, it's time to head home to make supper, or get to choir rehearsal. Anyone know how I could add two hours to the 12 PM-6 PM stretch? Wouldn't that be lovely?
Our daughter and her husband live just about as far away from us (on this continent) as they can--Vancouver, B.C. It's so far! And we only get to see them about once a year -- (thank goodness for ooVoo and webcams!) -- and it seems SOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo long until we'll see them again. And goodness knows, when they move to Norway in a few years, the visits may be even more infrequent. They keep a blog, too, that helps to soften the blow of so much time between in-person visits; I sure wish it weren't so long between visits.
I have an idea. How about some kind of an adjustable, compartmentalized 'time machine' where we could choose which parts of our life (time with our kids and grandkids, for example) we want to extend and savor, while simultaneously giving us the option to fast-forward through the time leading up to those delicious times? And how about being able to fast-forward through those things we don't really enjoy that much? Like EXERCISE CLASS, or arguments. And perhaps there could be an option to re-wind and re-experience the things we love the most! Honestly. How many of us have said, I really want to go back to X (insert the name of a favorite place you've traveled) because I wish I'd paid more attention, had longer there, etc., etc.
Hmmm...I wonder if I could get a patent.
Friday, July 18, 2008
One is Silver and the Other Gold
I miss my friends in New Hampshire. There. I've said it.
When I was young, my mother didn't have any female friends that I remember except a woman she worked with. I don't ever remember her going out for an impromptu lunch or catching a Friday night movie with a friend. She rarely chatted with any female friends on the telephone. My heart is heavy.
I am blessed with circles of friends, and some of the circles overlap -- many are from church, most are from leisure activities I enjoy -- rughooking, knitting, on-line Scrabble, singing, bell-ringing -- still others I've met through work, and in recent months, I've even reconnected with a couple of friends from high school. Pure gold that still glistens nearly forty years later.
Electronic communication has dramatically changed the ways we keep in touch with both friends and family; a quick e-mail can be popped off in moments; a text message on my cellphone that includes a brief movie of grandson G's first T-ball swing (by the way, he's a natural!), or a photo of Beth's latest haircut lifts my spirits for the whole day! I can't WAIT to visit each Sunday afternoon with one of my sisters by web-cam. In fact, just last week I gave her a "virtual tour" of my new home by dragging my laptop and webcam through my house and outside around the yard. I e-mail with my sisters and brother nearly daily, and sometimes multiple times in a day. Overall, the world of computers and cellphones has made communication more frequent and often more compelling (at least in this baby boomer's estimation).
Yet there is nothing like the thrill of a REAL hold-in-your-hand-letter or card in the mailbox! We now collect our mail at the local post-office. I've never had a P.O. box in my life (does the one in my college dormitory count?). And I do love to go to the post office six days a week to see what's in that little box. Just this week I've realized that I can nearly always approximate the volume of mail in that little box on the bottom row by listening carefully as the key turns in the lock; a full mailbox sounds...well...different from an empty one.
And of course, the "I still feel like I'm 13 years old inside" part of me always loves to get a phone call from a friend. The 'caller ID' feature is a bit like peeking under the wrapping on Christmas morning. Unless it's a nasty telemarketer or a blocked ID.
Blogging is a way to keep in touch with dear friends I've known for fifteen or twenty years, and of course with family members, too. I worry though that my golden NH friends might think that my blog is a wimpy way to keep in touch. Truth be told -- I put hours into each blog entry -- I craft my words with far more precision and thoughtfulness than I do when I pop off a hasty e-mail or forward a joke that's been forwarded to me. I hope they find time to read my blog occasionally.
I made some new (silver) friends yesterday. I was invited to visit a local chapter of an international women's group I belong to -- the women were so welcoming and we had a terrific time together. The women range in age from late-40's to mid-90's. We quickly found many connections including books, gardening, and music. Our hostess prepared a delicious lunch -- sliced chicken, homemade chutney (fabulous!), potato salad, and fruit. Of course I graciously thanked our hostess as I headed home.
But at the end of the day, I don't want to write an e-mail to thank the hostess; to thank a new friend by hitting some keys on my computer seems inadequate. I need to feel the flow of ink on specially chosen paper -- there is a greater commitment to putting something down on paper that involves selecting just the right stationery, composing just the right words (no delete key!), paying attention to spacing. Neatly slipping the note into its matching envelope, hunting down the address, and applying the stamp to the envelope all denote a greater commitment to the act of writing. And to those to whom I write. (Note to Beth: Maybe riding my bicycle to the post office to mail this note will leave a smaller carbon footprint than if I were to drive my car there?)
Now where IS my stationery? I know it's here somewhere . . . maybe I could write to some of my old friends, too. I sure do miss them.
When I was young, my mother didn't have any female friends that I remember except a woman she worked with. I don't ever remember her going out for an impromptu lunch or catching a Friday night movie with a friend. She rarely chatted with any female friends on the telephone. My heart is heavy.
I am blessed with circles of friends, and some of the circles overlap -- many are from church, most are from leisure activities I enjoy -- rughooking, knitting, on-line Scrabble, singing, bell-ringing -- still others I've met through work, and in recent months, I've even reconnected with a couple of friends from high school. Pure gold that still glistens nearly forty years later.
Electronic communication has dramatically changed the ways we keep in touch with both friends and family; a quick e-mail can be popped off in moments; a text message on my cellphone that includes a brief movie of grandson G's first T-ball swing (by the way, he's a natural!), or a photo of Beth's latest haircut lifts my spirits for the whole day! I can't WAIT to visit each Sunday afternoon with one of my sisters by web-cam. In fact, just last week I gave her a "virtual tour" of my new home by dragging my laptop and webcam through my house and outside around the yard. I e-mail with my sisters and brother nearly daily, and sometimes multiple times in a day. Overall, the world of computers and cellphones has made communication more frequent and often more compelling (at least in this baby boomer's estimation).
Yet there is nothing like the thrill of a REAL hold-in-your-hand-letter or card in the mailbox! We now collect our mail at the local post-office. I've never had a P.O. box in my life (does the one in my college dormitory count?). And I do love to go to the post office six days a week to see what's in that little box. Just this week I've realized that I can nearly always approximate the volume of mail in that little box on the bottom row by listening carefully as the key turns in the lock; a full mailbox sounds...well...different from an empty one.
And of course, the "I still feel like I'm 13 years old inside" part of me always loves to get a phone call from a friend. The 'caller ID' feature is a bit like peeking under the wrapping on Christmas morning. Unless it's a nasty telemarketer or a blocked ID.
Blogging is a way to keep in touch with dear friends I've known for fifteen or twenty years, and of course with family members, too. I worry though that my golden NH friends might think that my blog is a wimpy way to keep in touch. Truth be told -- I put hours into each blog entry -- I craft my words with far more precision and thoughtfulness than I do when I pop off a hasty e-mail or forward a joke that's been forwarded to me. I hope they find time to read my blog occasionally.
I made some new (silver) friends yesterday. I was invited to visit a local chapter of an international women's group I belong to -- the women were so welcoming and we had a terrific time together. The women range in age from late-40's to mid-90's. We quickly found many connections including books, gardening, and music. Our hostess prepared a delicious lunch -- sliced chicken, homemade chutney (fabulous!), potato salad, and fruit. Of course I graciously thanked our hostess as I headed home.
But at the end of the day, I don't want to write an e-mail to thank the hostess; to thank a new friend by hitting some keys on my computer seems inadequate. I need to feel the flow of ink on specially chosen paper -- there is a greater commitment to putting something down on paper that involves selecting just the right stationery, composing just the right words (no delete key!), paying attention to spacing. Neatly slipping the note into its matching envelope, hunting down the address, and applying the stamp to the envelope all denote a greater commitment to the act of writing. And to those to whom I write. (Note to Beth: Maybe riding my bicycle to the post office to mail this note will leave a smaller carbon footprint than if I were to drive my car there?)
Now where IS my stationery? I know it's here somewhere . . . maybe I could write to some of my old friends, too. I sure do miss them.
Monday, July 14, 2008
I live. I hike. I bike.
Having suffered with plantar fasciitis for the past two years has put a REAL cramp into my exercise schedule. It's actually limited even simple tasks -- walking in to the market to pick up a loaf of bread meant putting my feet on ice as soon as I returned home. Ugh. Of course I had to give up hiking and biking -- two of my favorite activities.I've done it all. Orthotics. Stretching. Ice. Cortisone shots. Oral steroids. And always more ice.
A year ago I even had shockwave therapy treatments in both feet. The theory is that the treatment brings your foot inflammation back into an acute phase which will (should!) initiate the body's natural healing process. Not so much.
So this past spring I finally switched doctors. The new podiatrist did a very thorough work-up and recommended night splints. I've worn them faithfully EVERY night since I got them on April 21st. Finally. R.E.L.I.E.F.
So I've started riding my bike again. The biking does not hurt my feet. We've done several ride in the last ten days. And why not? Look at the rewards! How could you NOT want to pedal -- even huffing and puffing -- if you knew you could see these views of Jordan Pond? Wow.
I walked a flat trail last week for just over an hour with minimal pain. Hurrah! And yesterday, we did a REAL hike -- up a mountain -- and I made it! Yeah, it wasn't a 4000-footer -- but there was still some scrambling and some fabulous views. Look at THIS!And one of my MOST favorite views is still my honey . . .
Time to go plan our next hike! See you on the trails!
Sunday, July 13, 2008
May I Show You to Your Seat?
The price of gas -- now 4.19/gallon here in Maine -- is ridiculous. Gives one pause about spending money on just about anything considered "frivolous," like dinner out, concert tickets, even magazines (yeah, I sometimes buy People magazine).
The summer musical concert opportunities in the Down East region are fabulous. It's common to have 4 or 5 concerts, plays, or performances from which to choose on any given day.
Our move date was scheduled to enable me the opportunity for me to sing with the Mount Desert Summer Chorale this year from their very first rehearsal (June 25)-- we're performing a Bach/Beethoven/Brahms program in early August. Brahms' German Requiem is the focus of the concert and it's simply exquisite. Don't quiz me on my German pronunciation quite yet though.
So, yes -- singing IN a concert is quite a bit different from attending a concert. And there are a few concerts coming up in the area that I would really like to attend, but the cost is prohibitive. Lo and behold, at choir rehearsal the other night, we were asked to volunteer to usher at a series of summer concerts in the area. I was the first to volunteer and will usher for four concerts (and enjoy each one for free).
I ushered for a fabulous classical piano concert last night (Christopher Johnson) in Bar Harbor. Tonight is a Pops Concert, next Friday is the opera Carmen (which is the one I desperately wanted to see!), and a string orchestra performance the following Friday.
Score one for me!
The summer musical concert opportunities in the Down East region are fabulous. It's common to have 4 or 5 concerts, plays, or performances from which to choose on any given day.
Our move date was scheduled to enable me the opportunity for me to sing with the Mount Desert Summer Chorale this year from their very first rehearsal (June 25)-- we're performing a Bach/Beethoven/Brahms program in early August. Brahms' German Requiem is the focus of the concert and it's simply exquisite. Don't quiz me on my German pronunciation quite yet though.
So, yes -- singing IN a concert is quite a bit different from attending a concert. And there are a few concerts coming up in the area that I would really like to attend, but the cost is prohibitive. Lo and behold, at choir rehearsal the other night, we were asked to volunteer to usher at a series of summer concerts in the area. I was the first to volunteer and will usher for four concerts (and enjoy each one for free).
I ushered for a fabulous classical piano concert last night (Christopher Johnson) in Bar Harbor. Tonight is a Pops Concert, next Friday is the opera Carmen (which is the one I desperately wanted to see!), and a string orchestra performance the following Friday.
Score one for me!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Seat Belts, Please
There's nothing like the smackdown that a whopping case of vertigo can give you. Oomph!
Last night's dinner was yummy! It was such an easy preparation, all in all. The balsamic-honey reduction with sauteed scallions drizzled over the pan-seared salmon was so pretty next to the baked sweet potatoes and green asparagus. The grilled peaches with ginger-peach ice cream was so much fun to make -- and de-lish (can I say that about food that I prepared myself? Yup!). Note to self: File that menu for future use.
Even though it was nearly 11:30 when we turned the lights out, I woke up right "on time" - 5:30 AM. Headed downstairs to make my coffee and breakfast.
Whoa. The. room. is. spinning. Damn.
I hate this feeling.
Back to bed for me after taking my always-on-hand-Bonine. At least I'll be well prepared in case I have to fly anywhere today.
Three hours later. Moving in slow motion almost like being underwater. It's definitely a stay-on-the-couch day.
Last night's dinner was yummy! It was such an easy preparation, all in all. The balsamic-honey reduction with sauteed scallions drizzled over the pan-seared salmon was so pretty next to the baked sweet potatoes and green asparagus. The grilled peaches with ginger-peach ice cream was so much fun to make -- and de-lish (can I say that about food that I prepared myself? Yup!). Note to self: File that menu for future use.
Even though it was nearly 11:30 when we turned the lights out, I woke up right "on time" - 5:30 AM. Headed downstairs to make my coffee and breakfast.
Whoa. The. room. is. spinning. Damn.
I hate this feeling.
Back to bed for me after taking my always-on-hand-Bonine. At least I'll be well prepared in case I have to fly anywhere today.
Three hours later. Moving in slow motion almost like being underwater. It's definitely a stay-on-the-couch day.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
What's Cooking?
In recent months, when I was still working full-time, Al took over all cooking and grocery shopping responsibilities. Once I resigned and decided to sign on for semi-retirement, I had to reacquaint myself with the kitchen. And I'm lovin' it!
Our kitchen here in Maine has lots of light and a great window that looks right out on the woods behind our house. And, of course, there is another busy hummingbird feeder that often distracts me while I'm cooking and offers free entertainment while doing the dishes (still no automatic dishwasher here).
We've been living the "low-fat" way of life for a number of years. Al successfully lost 35 pounds (in 3 months? Jeesh!) at Weight Watchers more than five years ago, and even before that, I lost 40 pounds. We use low-fat or fat-free EVERYTHING -- salad dressings, "spray butter" (apologies to Bethany), sour cream, yogurt, milk, etc. You get the idea.
Yeah. I've put most of that weight back on over the last 5+ years, but it's coming off again. Acadia National Park provides all kinds of fabulous exercise opportunities -- hiking, biking, kayaking, walking - in breathtaking surrounds.
Rediscovering the summer harvest of lovely fruits and vegetables keeps food preparation creative and eating fun! I scour my Rachael Ray and Weight Watchers magazines, and explore the WW website for new recipes daily. We're having neighbors to dinner tonight and I've put together a menu that's sure to look beautiful and taste yummy -- veggie and fruit crudites (carrots, broccoli, mushrooms, peppers, apples) with a curry-chutney dip, pan-seared salmon steaks with scallions and a honey-balsamic reduction, steamed asparagus, and baked sweet potatoes. For dessert? Grilled peaches with vanilla yogurt (with ginger snap mix-in). Wow. I'm already hungry!
Down another 1.2 pounds this week -- 4.8 pounds in TWO weeks! I pedaled 15 miles last week, and another 6 miles yesterday. Go, me!
Our kitchen here in Maine has lots of light and a great window that looks right out on the woods behind our house. And, of course, there is another busy hummingbird feeder that often distracts me while I'm cooking and offers free entertainment while doing the dishes (still no automatic dishwasher here).
We've been living the "low-fat" way of life for a number of years. Al successfully lost 35 pounds (in 3 months? Jeesh!) at Weight Watchers more than five years ago, and even before that, I lost 40 pounds. We use low-fat or fat-free EVERYTHING -- salad dressings, "spray butter" (apologies to Bethany), sour cream, yogurt, milk, etc. You get the idea.
Yeah. I've put most of that weight back on over the last 5+ years, but it's coming off again. Acadia National Park provides all kinds of fabulous exercise opportunities -- hiking, biking, kayaking, walking - in breathtaking surrounds.
Rediscovering the summer harvest of lovely fruits and vegetables keeps food preparation creative and eating fun! I scour my Rachael Ray and Weight Watchers magazines, and explore the WW website for new recipes daily. We're having neighbors to dinner tonight and I've put together a menu that's sure to look beautiful and taste yummy -- veggie and fruit crudites (carrots, broccoli, mushrooms, peppers, apples) with a curry-chutney dip, pan-seared salmon steaks with scallions and a honey-balsamic reduction, steamed asparagus, and baked sweet potatoes. For dessert? Grilled peaches with vanilla yogurt (with ginger snap mix-in). Wow. I'm already hungry!
Down another 1.2 pounds this week -- 4.8 pounds in TWO weeks! I pedaled 15 miles last week, and another 6 miles yesterday. Go, me!
Monday, July 7, 2008
Tick, Tock, Yawn, Whoosh
I've become my mother.
My favorite time of day is the early, early morning. In fact, when I nestle into bed each night, I can hardly contain my eagerness as I look ahead to the wee hours of the morning. I know. Weird. But that's how much I look forward to those sweet, solitary, quiet, early morning hours.
We sleep with the windows open and the shades up just a bit. Being so close to the ocean makes for comfortable nights. I crave cool, fresh air when I'm sleeping. And there is no ambient light here at all. And absolutely no. noise. at. night. No traffic. No peeper toads (note to self: do some research to learn why there are no peeper toads here). Sweet silence. The only downside of the open window/open shade routine is that the birds start singing here at about 4 AM. Yes, I love early morning, but I also REALLY love that last hour-and-a-half of sleep.
So, how early IS early? Well, I usually wake up long before Al --- between 5:30 and 5:45 AM. I have given up trying to sneak out of the bedroom quietly because there is simply NO way to be quiet while I rip apart the six BIG Velcro straps on my night splints. Luckily, Al is able to fall back asleep almost immediately as I pad down the hallway pulling my cotton robe tightly around me.
Sitting in my favorite chair -- the glider rocker -- in the living room gives me a perfect view of two bird feeders. One is a long tube feeder filled with sunflower seeds and millet. The bright yellow goldfinches, nuthatches, and chickadees here in Maine aren't nearly as picky as the ones we had in New Hampshire; they'll eat the millet without a fuss and often comically queue up to await their turn. The hummingbird feeder, visible through another window, is my favorite to watch. In the early morning hours, before the sun hits the feeder, it's easy to nearly miss the rapid-fire beating of the wings against the dark trees. Ooh! Is that a hummingbird? As it whizzes off to perch in a nearby sun-filled tree, it stands in stark relief. Sighting confirmed.
It was my second or third year here before I was able to spot a hummingbird perched in the large pine trees around our house. Dang. They're small and they land quite high in the trees. It's still early in the summer, and I'm out of practice; so far this year, I still need to follow the bird's flight from the feeder to the tree to be able to spot it there. I'm getting better at it though. The Fourth of July has just passed and I can already follow the exquisite little bird into the tree, close my eyes for a few seconds, and then open my eyes and find it right away!
Just yesterday, I got a special treat. Just last week I planted up my two window boxes with cascading deep purple petunias, dark magenta nicotiana, and yellow-orange ganzania. They've grown so quickly in the near-to-the-ocean air that the blooms are already visible from my glider chair indoors. Yesterday morning I suddenly noticed a hummingbird busily visiting each of the nicotiana blossoms in one of my windowboxes. Then it whooshed off into the tree as if it were waving good morning to me!
Time to make the coffee. . .
My favorite time of day is the early, early morning. In fact, when I nestle into bed each night, I can hardly contain my eagerness as I look ahead to the wee hours of the morning. I know. Weird. But that's how much I look forward to those sweet, solitary, quiet, early morning hours.
We sleep with the windows open and the shades up just a bit. Being so close to the ocean makes for comfortable nights. I crave cool, fresh air when I'm sleeping. And there is no ambient light here at all. And absolutely no. noise. at. night. No traffic. No peeper toads (note to self: do some research to learn why there are no peeper toads here). Sweet silence. The only downside of the open window/open shade routine is that the birds start singing here at about 4 AM. Yes, I love early morning, but I also REALLY love that last hour-and-a-half of sleep.
So, how early IS early? Well, I usually wake up long before Al --- between 5:30 and 5:45 AM. I have given up trying to sneak out of the bedroom quietly because there is simply NO way to be quiet while I rip apart the six BIG Velcro straps on my night splints. Luckily, Al is able to fall back asleep almost immediately as I pad down the hallway pulling my cotton robe tightly around me.
Sitting in my favorite chair -- the glider rocker -- in the living room gives me a perfect view of two bird feeders. One is a long tube feeder filled with sunflower seeds and millet. The bright yellow goldfinches, nuthatches, and chickadees here in Maine aren't nearly as picky as the ones we had in New Hampshire; they'll eat the millet without a fuss and often comically queue up to await their turn. The hummingbird feeder, visible through another window, is my favorite to watch. In the early morning hours, before the sun hits the feeder, it's easy to nearly miss the rapid-fire beating of the wings against the dark trees. Ooh! Is that a hummingbird? As it whizzes off to perch in a nearby sun-filled tree, it stands in stark relief. Sighting confirmed.
It was my second or third year here before I was able to spot a hummingbird perched in the large pine trees around our house. Dang. They're small and they land quite high in the trees. It's still early in the summer, and I'm out of practice; so far this year, I still need to follow the bird's flight from the feeder to the tree to be able to spot it there. I'm getting better at it though. The Fourth of July has just passed and I can already follow the exquisite little bird into the tree, close my eyes for a few seconds, and then open my eyes and find it right away!
Just yesterday, I got a special treat. Just last week I planted up my two window boxes with cascading deep purple petunias, dark magenta nicotiana, and yellow-orange ganzania. They've grown so quickly in the near-to-the-ocean air that the blooms are already visible from my glider chair indoors. Yesterday morning I suddenly noticed a hummingbird busily visiting each of the nicotiana blossoms in one of my windowboxes. Then it whooshed off into the tree as if it were waving good morning to me!
Time to make the coffee. . .
Saturday, July 5, 2008
"Objects" (including children and grandchildren) are Closer Than They May Appear
Fourth of July in Bar Harbor. Americana at its best. A hometown parade, people-watching, lazing and reading on a blanket in Agamont Park (it's never too early in the day to stake out your let's-watch-the-fireworks-from-here spot), ice cream, fireworks, and sitting in traffic in Bar Harbor. For this year's holiday, we decided to take good (better?) care of ourselves and took along our bicycles!
We loaded our bikes onto the car and packed a healthy no-need-to-refrigerate lunch (P, B, & J sammies, carrot sticks, green grapes). We had decided to grab one meal in town at a favorite, affordable restaurant. So far this year, we're seeing a few local businesses cutting back on hours they're open; it seems that the Tex-Mex restaurant we like is only serving dinners this year. We had lunch there last year on the 4th but it wasn't to be this year.
The parade route was quite a bit shorter this year--maybe to save on fuel? The shorter route necessitated sharper corners onto side streets; this exercise in geometry was particularly comical albeit frightening this year. As marauders of all ages and sizes were scrambling into the street to collect candy being tossed by the paraders (when did that obnoxious practice start?), some of the drivers of the obligatory vehicles--cherry pickers, huge fire engines, floats rigged on flat bed trailers--surely couldn't see the pavement (and little ones!) in front of their huge wheels. I finally just found it safer to stop looking!
After the parade, we walked back to the car, thoughtfully selected a few items that wouldn't be too heavy to carry, donned our helmets, and took our bikes onto West St. Admittedly, at first I wasn't a huge fan of Al's plan for us to ride our bikes in town. However, he was right -- the car traffic moves about as slowly as cyclists in Bar Harbor, and my confidence built immediately. Al was even comfortable enough to continue searching for license plates (we only have 9 left to find this summer!) as we dodged the occasional sideview mirror. We rode to Agamont Park and ate our picnic lunch in the warm sunshine. A few eager souls were already staking their claim for the fireworks (still nearly 8.5 hours away!).
The harbor was quite busy with one launch after another coming in from the Maasdam, a Holland America cruiseship moored in the outer part of the harbor. We remember this harbor before it became a huge cruise ship destination. We've learned to pay attention to the cruise ship schedule for Bar Harbor and try to avoid busier-than-usual Bar Harbor on "cruise ship days."
After lunch, we hopped back on our bikes and rode all the way to Schooner Head Overlook. O.K., I'll admit it. I walked my bike a few times along the way; this was my first biking since getting my ol' plantar fasciitis under control (3 cheers for night splints!). The views of the azure ocean were worth every grunt and groan, but sadly, it did appear that "our" favorite mansion was still not for sale - RATS!
In addition to the projected weight loss, one of the greatest rewards of hearty exercise (we biked nearly 11 miles in all) is the ICE CREAM it entitles us to! For those of you who always treat yourselves to a treat from Ben and Bill's whenever you visit Bar Harbor, we have a suggestion to make. No longer is it necessary to hit the ATM (or take out a second mortgage) before taking the family for ice cream. GO TO Mt. DESERT ISLAND ICE CREAM! This place is amazing. Al had ginger ice cream, and I indulged in 2 flavors: coconut and lemon lemongrass. The lemon was absolutely the BEST sorbet I've EVER had. E.V.E.R. Another intriguing flavor -- blueberry basil -- was being enjoyed by others around us -- they raved! A "small cup" was a ridiculous 3-1/2 to 4 scoops in all -- I can't imagine how large a "large" would be.
We rode our bikes all the way back to our car to lock them up before walking back into town to stake our claim in the park. Armed with both paperback books and another New York Times crossword puzzle book, we were prepared to lounge for a while before choosing to have an early dinner at Geddy's. However, as we walked back into town along West St., we spotted yet ANOTHER cruise ship in the harbor. And this one was MASSIVE! We hadn't expected two cruise ships in the harbor, but maybe because of it being the 4th and all . . . as we got closer, however, the ship seemed to shrink! Indeed. It was the same boat we'd watched earlier. Fooled again.
The Bar Harbor fireworks were great --- short, but sweet. The park was mobbed; our blanket abutters were friendly and not-the-least-unruly (always a risk that we'll sit near heavy smokers). But the sweetest part of the day for me was calling, chatting with, and sending pictures (and video of the grand finale) to our kids and grandchildren. Gotta love cellphones! Al received an important call from Mike at about 8:45 -- not dark yet, and about 30 minutes before the fireworks. Mike, Laurelyn, Graham, and Dean were en route to their first family-of-four fireworks. Graham (now 2-1/2 years old) was apparently intrigued to learn that someone in the family who sports a beard LOVES loud fireworks; G needed to speak to Grandpa for himself to check the facts. Nothing sweeter than watching Al speak to G about how much he loves fireworks. Guess it helped; all reports from Corning confirm that Graham is his grandfather's grandson. Maybe next year we can share our 4th of July picnic blanket with Graham and Dean!
Happy 4th of July to all! Hope yours was happy and safe!
We loaded our bikes onto the car and packed a healthy no-need-to-refrigerate lunch (P, B, & J sammies, carrot sticks, green grapes). We had decided to grab one meal in town at a favorite, affordable restaurant. So far this year, we're seeing a few local businesses cutting back on hours they're open; it seems that the Tex-Mex restaurant we like is only serving dinners this year. We had lunch there last year on the 4th but it wasn't to be this year.
The parade route was quite a bit shorter this year--maybe to save on fuel? The shorter route necessitated sharper corners onto side streets; this exercise in geometry was particularly comical albeit frightening this year. As marauders of all ages and sizes were scrambling into the street to collect candy being tossed by the paraders (when did that obnoxious practice start?), some of the drivers of the obligatory vehicles--cherry pickers, huge fire engines, floats rigged on flat bed trailers--surely couldn't see the pavement (and little ones!) in front of their huge wheels. I finally just found it safer to stop looking!
After the parade, we walked back to the car, thoughtfully selected a few items that wouldn't be too heavy to carry, donned our helmets, and took our bikes onto West St. Admittedly, at first I wasn't a huge fan of Al's plan for us to ride our bikes in town. However, he was right -- the car traffic moves about as slowly as cyclists in Bar Harbor, and my confidence built immediately. Al was even comfortable enough to continue searching for license plates (we only have 9 left to find this summer!) as we dodged the occasional sideview mirror. We rode to Agamont Park and ate our picnic lunch in the warm sunshine. A few eager souls were already staking their claim for the fireworks (still nearly 8.5 hours away!).
The harbor was quite busy with one launch after another coming in from the Maasdam, a Holland America cruiseship moored in the outer part of the harbor. We remember this harbor before it became a huge cruise ship destination. We've learned to pay attention to the cruise ship schedule for Bar Harbor and try to avoid busier-than-usual Bar Harbor on "cruise ship days."
After lunch, we hopped back on our bikes and rode all the way to Schooner Head Overlook. O.K., I'll admit it. I walked my bike a few times along the way; this was my first biking since getting my ol' plantar fasciitis under control (3 cheers for night splints!). The views of the azure ocean were worth every grunt and groan, but sadly, it did appear that "our" favorite mansion was still not for sale - RATS!
In addition to the projected weight loss, one of the greatest rewards of hearty exercise (we biked nearly 11 miles in all) is the ICE CREAM it entitles us to! For those of you who always treat yourselves to a treat from Ben and Bill's whenever you visit Bar Harbor, we have a suggestion to make. No longer is it necessary to hit the ATM (or take out a second mortgage) before taking the family for ice cream. GO TO Mt. DESERT ISLAND ICE CREAM! This place is amazing. Al had ginger ice cream, and I indulged in 2 flavors: coconut and lemon lemongrass. The lemon was absolutely the BEST sorbet I've EVER had. E.V.E.R. Another intriguing flavor -- blueberry basil -- was being enjoyed by others around us -- they raved! A "small cup" was a ridiculous 3-1/2 to 4 scoops in all -- I can't imagine how large a "large" would be.
We rode our bikes all the way back to our car to lock them up before walking back into town to stake our claim in the park. Armed with both paperback books and another New York Times crossword puzzle book, we were prepared to lounge for a while before choosing to have an early dinner at Geddy's. However, as we walked back into town along West St., we spotted yet ANOTHER cruise ship in the harbor. And this one was MASSIVE! We hadn't expected two cruise ships in the harbor, but maybe because of it being the 4th and all . . . as we got closer, however, the ship seemed to shrink! Indeed. It was the same boat we'd watched earlier. Fooled again.
The Bar Harbor fireworks were great --- short, but sweet. The park was mobbed; our blanket abutters were friendly and not-the-least-unruly (always a risk that we'll sit near heavy smokers). But the sweetest part of the day for me was calling, chatting with, and sending pictures (and video of the grand finale) to our kids and grandchildren. Gotta love cellphones! Al received an important call from Mike at about 8:45 -- not dark yet, and about 30 minutes before the fireworks. Mike, Laurelyn, Graham, and Dean were en route to their first family-of-four fireworks. Graham (now 2-1/2 years old) was apparently intrigued to learn that someone in the family who sports a beard LOVES loud fireworks; G needed to speak to Grandpa for himself to check the facts. Nothing sweeter than watching Al speak to G about how much he loves fireworks. Guess it helped; all reports from Corning confirm that Graham is his grandfather's grandson. Maybe next year we can share our 4th of July picnic blanket with Graham and Dean!
Happy 4th of July to all! Hope yours was happy and safe!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
A New Day Dawns
Here. we. are. Just where we dreamed of being. Perhaps a bit sooner than even we had anticipated.
Acadia - a playground for all things outdoors. Hiking. Biking. Kayaking. Bird watching. Gardens. And of course, stuffing our faces occasionally (!) with lobster, fresh strawberries (Quick! Before they go moldy!), corn on the cob, and picking our own blueberries along the hiking and biking paths.
Being semi-retired (more about that later) holds so much promise, and at the same time, it can be a bit unnerving.
I've had sticker shock in the supermarket recently. $2.97 for a bunch of celery? Honestly. How much can one really do with CELERY? $1.29 for a cucumber?! Aren't both of these about 99.5% water? Jeesh. As I grocery shop now, every item I put into my cart is a deliberate, conscious decision -- do we really need it? Will we use it in the next week? How far can I stretch this item? Is there a store-brand alternative? Is this food really healthy for us? (Yes, I know...that should have been the first question!)
And thanks to our daughter, Beth, and daughter-in-law Laurelyn, I'm asking new questions about food. Was it grown locally? What about those additives? Is this something I would feed to our 2-year-old grandson, Graham? Is this something we could grow ourselves, and if so, why aren't we? That question led me to create a new section in our garden -- herbs! I visited a local nursery and purchased a number of small plants -- oregano, rosemary, tarragon, LOTS of basil, and sage. So far, several of these are in a darling, small rough-hewn birch "chair" that's really a pot for plants. Today I'll officially plant them! Can't wait for pesto time. . .
And there's something to be said for loading our kitchen with lots of fresh fruits and veggies! Down 3.6 pounds in my FIRST week back at the Weight Watchers' way of life. Ta-dah!
Acadia - a playground for all things outdoors. Hiking. Biking. Kayaking. Bird watching. Gardens. And of course, stuffing our faces occasionally (!) with lobster, fresh strawberries (Quick! Before they go moldy!), corn on the cob, and picking our own blueberries along the hiking and biking paths.
Being semi-retired (more about that later) holds so much promise, and at the same time, it can be a bit unnerving.
I've had sticker shock in the supermarket recently. $2.97 for a bunch of celery? Honestly. How much can one really do with CELERY? $1.29 for a cucumber?! Aren't both of these about 99.5% water? Jeesh. As I grocery shop now, every item I put into my cart is a deliberate, conscious decision -- do we really need it? Will we use it in the next week? How far can I stretch this item? Is there a store-brand alternative? Is this food really healthy for us? (Yes, I know...that should have been the first question!)
And thanks to our daughter, Beth, and daughter-in-law Laurelyn, I'm asking new questions about food. Was it grown locally? What about those additives? Is this something I would feed to our 2-year-old grandson, Graham? Is this something we could grow ourselves, and if so, why aren't we? That question led me to create a new section in our garden -- herbs! I visited a local nursery and purchased a number of small plants -- oregano, rosemary, tarragon, LOTS of basil, and sage. So far, several of these are in a darling, small rough-hewn birch "chair" that's really a pot for plants. Today I'll officially plant them! Can't wait for pesto time. . .
And there's something to be said for loading our kitchen with lots of fresh fruits and veggies! Down 3.6 pounds in my FIRST week back at the Weight Watchers' way of life. Ta-dah!
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