Where Did Summer Go?

We've had some awesome evening weather this past week - I think it got down to about 59 degrees F one night.

Looks like we're well on to our way to my favorite season - Fall. Or Autumn, for those of you who prefer that term. I prefer Fall. I love the colors of the New England foliage in October. Falling leaves are my delight. Reds, yellows, oranges - I just can't get enough of them.

In my lifetime, I've wasted dozens of rolls of film (yeah, we just got a digital camera last year) on pictures of trees. Cameras never quite capture the beauty, though. Nothing compares to standing under a maple tree that has reds, yellows and greens all on the same tree.

A favorite childhood memory of mine is collecting leaves and then ironing them between two sheets of wax paper. Hm. On second though, maybe the memory is not so good. There were a couple of nasty burns and the sticky mess when we forgot to put the brown paper bag between the hot iron and the wax paper.

So, where did the summer go? I don't care - I'm a typical New England whiner. We thrive on complaining about the cold in the winter and the heat in the summer. And wondering where the seasons went so quickly.

Life's Ups and Downs

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I never knew that I could feel so bad about taking a cat to get euthanized. I have cursed at that animal for almost ten years. He changed my entire lifestyle - couldn't keep my bedroom door open (he'd puke in my slippers), couldn't keep a green plant or a bouquet of flowers anywhere in the house (he'd eat the plant, then puke in my slippers). And in his wildest moments (which were frequent) he'd scramble and pounce madly around the house, knocking over everything in his path that wasn't nailed down. And then there was the litter box... amazing how much a Maine Coon Cat can put out in the course of one day... right outside my bedroom door. What a way to start the day.

So I just couldn't get a grip on my behavior when it was time to take him on his last trip to the vet. I could barely talk to the receptionist when I made the call. It's not like we didn't see it coming. He'd lost a lot of weight over the past year. We all knew it was time. He had been miserable, drooling, lethargic and not eating for two days. We refused to prolong his agony. We didn't even know how old he was - we got him when he was fully grown, and the person who gave him to us got him from a shelter.

We went through a box of kleenex in the car (a three mile ride) and two more boxes at the vet's. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked us. (We were sure). She explained cremation. She explained how the death would happen. He might lose his bowels (we were used to that). She said that they'd send us a paw print in a ceramic plaque with his name carved on it. (Yeah, whatever). We skipped the cremation and took him home in a weirdly somber cardboard pet coffin. We got the sympathetic sad faces from everyone in the waiting room (it was packed) on our way out. Another box of kleenex in the car before we could drive home.

We waited until the body was cold (I insisted) and then buried him in the back yard next to my older sister's cat, Zachary. It took us forever to dig the grave. Even in old age and weakness, he was a huge cat. We piled it with stones from our beloved (but anemic) stone wall fence so that the coyotes wouldn't rob the grave. We sprinkled lots of holy water so he wouldn't go to cat hell.

And now our little dog is once again an only child. "Never again," we say almost every day. "Never again will we have a pet after this one is gone." Two days later we got a sympathy card from the vet, signed by every technician and everyone who was in the waiting room, watching the funeral procession go tearfully out the door. A picture of a very cute cat on the cover, reaching poignantly for a yellow butterfly. More tears, more vows. Never again...
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Let's Talk About the Weather

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It seems that winter in New England has launched itself directly into summer. We went from an eternally cold and annoyingly snowy winter directly into the blistering heat of summer. Those of you in the south would not consider 85 degrees F to be blistering heat, but those of us up north with our sluggish blood do not respond well to these temperatures, especially when they arrive suddenly. My ideal temperature (outdoors) is closer to 60. Indoors I thrive at 68.

We New Englanders tend to complain a lot about the weather. We have an old saying... "If you don't like the weather, wait a minute". It changes frequently, giving us much to complain about. Most people in these parts don't like change - they like their 'comfort zone'.

I'm lucky that the weather is all that I have to complain about. I have a good job, a roof over my head, friends and family, and relatively good health. What more could I ask for? Nifty thunderstorms at my command? (Cool - I'd like that).

We humans are never satisfied with the good things that we have. We always want more. I guess it all goes back to the Garden of Eden. Man and Woman had everything - except one stinking fruit. They had to have it all. And just look at where it got us.

This is not Paradise.

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Helloooooo Sonata!

I'm having a grand time with the new car. Can't get enough of the satellite radio. Don't even know what half the buttons on the dash are for. The thing drives like a dream (there's nothing like a brand-new car) and we've only been to the gas station once since it arrived.

Aaaaaaannnnd it's the envy of the workplace. I rarely have something to be proud of (probably a good thing) but this car has upped my status in life, at least at work. There have been several 'showings' and promises of a test drive (I need to get an inspection sticker before the test drives). And suddenly everyone at work wants a new Hyundai.

My cars always have a name. We named this one "Bruce" for a couple of reasons. Bruce is the shark in "Finding Nemo" (a favorite movie), and the satellite radio has a shark-fin sort of antenna. Plus, the car is sort of the blue-ish color of that character. And I think of Bruce (in "Nemo") when he loses control and tries to get at Nemo and Dori. Reminds me of my own road rage as I try to get to work in the morning, most days.

Ahhh, Bruce. The new love of my life (until something better comes along). I feel like a kid with a new toy.

Goodbye Jeep

It's been a rough week (or two). Trouble with my 2005 Jeep Liberty Sport. The engine light came on about a month ago, and the local mechanic blamed it on the gas cap. Drove it for a while with no further trouble after the gas cap was replaced.

Then the heat was really slow to turn on, and the instrument panel began to chime 5 times. Turns out that the coolant had leaked into the oil and the Jeep had 'blown a head gasket'. At 38000 miles.

Now, I've done regular oil changes at about 3000 miles each time. When I brought the vehicle in for the first engine light, I assumed the mechanic had checked the coolant level (it's a sealed system). When I challenged him, he assured me that he had checked the coolant.

I don't know who to blame or what went wrong. I know nothing about cars, so I relied on the 'professionals' to watch out for me. Maybe they knew about as much as I do.

In any event, the Jeep was under warranty, so this week it got a new head gasket, one new head, and two new intake valves.

And tomorrow I am going to trade it in for a 2009 Hyundai Sonata.

I've been feeding the Jeep more than $50.00 a week in gas, and much more when I take a road trip on weekends. The new car has 4 cylinders and will drink a lot less gas.

I feel bad about losing the Jeep. I really liked driving it - it was fun to be high above the other cars on the road. But I drove a 2009 Sonata rental car when I was on travel recently, and really fell in love with it.

The new Hyundai has XM satellite radio, heated leather seats, front wheel drive, A/C, 6-CD changer, more speakers than anyone could ever want, and lots of other features. And the dealer looked all over the place to find the color that I wanted - medium silver blue with grey interior.

I generally buy new cars for what they look like (I've only bought two new cars in my lifetime). This is the first new car that I have bought because of how it drives vs. how it looks. Of course, looks are important and the new vehicle looked pretty good in black and gold (I'm eager to see it in my chosen color).

So now I have a new car payment to add to the stack of bills... but I'm looking forward to spending lots of time on the road with that XM satellite radio. And saving a bit of money on gas.

Everyone at work has heard my Jeep saga and is looking forward to a ride (and perhaps a test drive) in the new car. Amazing what a new car will do to enhance someone's life. Next week should be very interesting.

Pot-Lucks and Pentecost

We hosted a pot-luck at our house the weekend before last. The theme was "Tapas" - Spanish appetizers. People came up with the most amazing recipes - we had a great time. We made our classic deviled eggs, but tried two new recipes - pinwheel sandwiches and stuffed strawberries. Others brought the most amazing creations - fried olives, Mexican casserole, bruschetta with prosciutto, Spanish cheeses, rhubarb crisp, fruit platters, bean and corn salad, mini cheesecake slices, country bread, shrimp and cocktail sauce, baby greens salad - an awesome feast.

This past weekend one of our friends invited us to a Pentecost Vigil Mass followed by a pot-luck. He is a Catholic priest, and very much into the Holy Spirit. The Pentecost is when the Holy Spirit descended upon the Mother of Christ and His Disciples, after the Resurrection. We celebrated Pentecost this past weekend as the end of the Easter season in the Church year (liturgical calendar).

The Mass was very intimate - a bunch of us crowded into a small basement room - scriptural readings, songs, prayers and meditations, plus the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. It made me think of the way Mass was once celebrated in the catacombs, where the Christians hid from their persecutors. Or like Christ and His Mother, hidden in a locked room for fear of those who might come and kill them...

It all ties together. Friends. Food. Christ and the Last Supper. There is so much of God and Church in our everyday lives. In the ordinary things that we do, we often don't realize who or in what way we are bringing Christ into the world.

Murder

My friend, Marc, was murdered a few years ago. Today a detective called me. He said that Marc's sister thought that he was going to come over to fix my computer the night that "It Happened" (the murder). Not true. Marc and I had lost touch with each other (except for Christmas cards).

About a year ago, another private detective called to ask me if I was the one who watched Marc's dog while he was on travel.

I didn't even know that Marc had a dog.

Marc was my best friend for a few years, but we had drifted apart. It's a long story, and not something that I necessarily want to blog, but suffice it to say that Marc and I were best friends at one time.

And then he got himself murdered.

Needless to say, I've been a mess tonight. I do not like to be haunted by murdered people. I do not like detectives calling me. I do not like that I lost touch with my friend Marc, and so now have no information to offer to the people who are trying to convict his killer. I so badly want to help his family, but there is nothing at all that I can offer them.

Lessons learned. Do not ever lose touch with old friends. You never know when they (or their parents) may need you.

Travel and Tapas

My big event this week was a trip to Chantilly, VA. The weather was perfect, and the flowers and blooming trees were beautiful. Still, as Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz said, "there's no place like home". It was a short trip, but I don't travel well and I'm still recovering from lack of sleep. It's good to be back home.

We're planning a "Tapas Pot-luck" party for next weekend. Tapas is the latest rage in this area - sort of a Spanish appetizer. We invited about 40 of our friends and neighbors to come over on Saturday and bring a 'tapas' dish. We are hoping that a lot of them cancel - our house isn't really big enough to hold 40 guests. Still, we'd have a lot of fun if they all came. And if the weather stays nice, they can spill out into the yard.

Spring has finally arrived. The daffodils are up, and tulips are beginning to bloom. The flowering trees and shrubs are looking really good. It seems that winter is finally over. This weekend the weather is nearly perfect - about 65 degrees in the daytime, and 40 at night. Couldn't ask for better.

Guess I'll try to catch up on a little more sleep - I get really grumpy when I'm tired.

Interesting Weekend

We were watching TV last night and just chilling before it was time to go to bed when Neighbor called. "Whatcha doing?" he asked. "You wanna come over?" "Sure!" I told him. He just had surgery on Wednesday for a deviated septum (he calls it his 'nose job') and we'd been worried about him. He lives alone now, and surgery is no fun for anyone, especially if you are alone. I think he wanted us to know and see for ourselves that he was OK.

So we hauled ourselves off the couch, turned off the TV, and headed next door. I brought him a container of my homemade "cabbage-shittake mushroom-fresh oregano" soup. Fresh oregano is great for the sinuses.

Neighbor was in great spirits - he'd been prescribed some oxycodone for pain, but hadn't taken any, and was very proud of the fact. We were pleased to see that he wasn't in any terrible discomfort, and was actually looking pretty good for someone who had just had surgery. It was a good visit. We laughed and talked and while we were there, another friend came by to check on him as well.

We were about to head out the door when Neighbor handed us a small box of Cuban cigars.

Now, we have been known to smoke cigars, but we don't make it a habit and we're not particularly fond of high-grade Cubans. We're more into the "Jamaican-honeys" and Vanilla-flavored things. But how could we pass up the precious gift of genuine Cubans in exchange for an hour of friendship and some lowly, homemade cabbage soup?

We gracefully accepted the cigars - to refuse them would have been awkward. So now we are in the possession of five 'illegal' Cubans, "Limited Edition 2008", sealed in a wood-and-glass box marked "Hecho in Cuba". I think they're genuine. I also feel like the FBI may be knocking at our door, somehow knowing that we possess 'contraband'.

We have a chimenea on the patio behind the house. I may light a little fire and tell the Neighbor that we enjoyed 'smoking' the Cuban cigars...

Taxes

I can't believe that I have waited this long to prepare my taxes. I'm not sure what caused the delay, but I've been blaming it on this endless, cold and depressing winter. Much better than blaming it on my own old age and laziness...

So, this weekend is dedicated to Tax Preparation. I have all the paperwork and forms ready. Taxes have been the talk of the workplace all week -mostly stuff like "You do your own taxes? Really?"

Talk like that makes me feel a little bit freakish. "What??? I have always done my own taxes - what's the big deal?" I felt a little better today when a female co-worker announced that she always did her own taxes - "It's easy!" she declared. I wouldn't go so far as to say that it's easy, but it certainly isn't rocket science.

I had three years of leisure when my pastor hooked me up with an ex-convict who needed to do charity work as part of his parole. I never knew what the guy did to get himself in jail, but the years of leisure ended when the man was killed in a car accident.

My father was a professional tax preparer. It was totally unplanned, but he managed to die on April 15th. So, there are lots of memories for me this time of year. I have more than one reason for not liking the 15th of April.

Feeding Auntie Helen

Had a weird experience at the nursing home this weekend. My aunt was still in bed when we went to visit her at 2 PM on Sunday. Someone told us that she had been awake and active all night, so they allowed her to sleep late.

That's not surprising. My mother kept us awake many nights during the years that she suffered the same condition - vascular dementia.

The weirdness happened when they brought us her lunch tray. My aunt showed no interest in feeding herself, so I fed her. I thought that my mother's death was the end to my feeding another person. I have no children, but I know in a small, small way what it's like. An adult can become your child, actually.

My mother was my child. Our child. The child of my sister and I, who were no longer her daughters, eventually - she forgot us - and we became her sisters, and in the end her mother. Both of us.

Isaiah 49:15 got us through some very, very tough times. "Should a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you."

It Finally Happened

I have been fearful that someday I would finally be forced to speak with my ex-boss - the one whose company I recently left on a negative note. Well, it finally happened. He called me today. It happened in the course of a normal workday - when I left his company back in December, I returned to a job that still had dealings with him. It was an awkward situation for me. I had hoped that I would never have to speak to him again. I had hoped that my supervisor would cover for me.

It didn't work out that way.

After the initial shock of hearing his voice, I composed myself and was able to converse with him normally. It finally happened, and I guess I am relieved that I no longer need to fear that first encounter. He had the gall to ask me if I 'got what I wanted' in my new job. I don't really remember what I told him. I think I said something rather lame, like, "It's a job."

I do remember that I forgot to tell him that I got a $15K pay increase over what he had paid me, plus benefits that he never offered. Sure, I loved the work that I was doing for him, but was it worth the aggravation and misery? Surely it was not.

Am I happy in what I am doing now? Well - the work that I do is rewarding. But I can no longer work from home in my precious silence. I have a co-worker who thinks out loud and constantly disturbs me in what I do. The building that I work in is 'condemned' and they can't seem to regulate the temperature or air quality. I have other co-workers who don't have enough to do, who come into my office for prolonged discussions about anything and everything that is not related to my work.

On the plus side, I have a chapel right across the street from my workplace. I can walk over there any time I feel the need. I can offer up my workplace irritations as small crosses that I have been given to bear.

And I still have interactions with some of my former co-workers. They still bring sunshine to my darkest days.

Did I 'get what I wanted' in my new job? I don't know. I don't know what I wanted except knowing that I didn't want to work for that person ever again. Yes - I guess I got what I wanted. I got it at a price, but I got what I wanted. Do we ever get anything for free in this life? Doesn't everything always have a price tag on it?

Who Is My Neighbor?

We had a rough night last night. One of our friends is going through a divorce, and he wanted to come over and talk. It's hard - he's a good person and we like him a lot - and although we don't know his (soon to be ex) wife as well, she seems to be a good person too. Somehow they are just a mis-match, and they're having a tough time with the breakup. We're having a tough time with it as well. We like both of them, and it's hard to think of them apart.

Well, we ended up talking with him until almost 11 PM. He is really questioning whether he is doing the right thing. Our advice to him - if you are both so miserable that you can't live together, then this marriage is not the right thing. God has other plans for both of you.

We didn't get much sleep last night and had a hard time getting to work this morning. But we need to care for our neighbor.

So who is my neighbor? My neighbor is the guy who needs to talk (and sometimes cry) about his divorce. My neighbor is the co-worker who chatters endlessly about her personal life because she has run out of friends and family who will listen to her. My neighbor is the old man at work who wants to talk about food and and travel and home repair, but doesn't have an audience in any of his other co-workers, so he spends a lot of time in my office.

Flashback to Mr. Rogers - "Won't you be, won't you be, please won't you be my neighbor"...

Flashbacks

Today my office mate dialed in to a sales demonstration put on by a small software company that I used to work for. She had the volume up high, and it was impossible for me to tune it out. My former boss was running the demo, and his voice brought back some really bad memories.

I left that company on bad terms, something I have never done in my life. Usually when I quit a job, I try to leave on a positive note. But my boss had done something to me that I just could not tolerate (berated me unreasonably in the presence of a customer) and I left the company in anger and humiliation. I actually told him exactly why I was leaving - something I have never had the courage to do before.

It's sad for me because I really loved the work that I was doing. My co-workers were awesome. I was working from a home office. I thought that it was my dream job. It's tragic how one person or personality can ruin a really good thing in your life.

But there is a bright side to this experience. I went back to my old job, and was welcomed back like the prodigal son (or daughter, in this case). I just recently renewed my contract with them and received an extremely significant pay increase. It is not my dream job, but it's steady work, a really good paycheck, and an 8-hour day. And when I go home, my work does not go home with me. I could say that life is good and everything is fine.

But I still have flashbacks to that software company. Good things that might have been. On the other hand, there were red flags that I should have seen sooner. The grass isn't always greener on the other side of the fence.

The Cows Came Home

We have ten steers in our back yard. Yes, ten. Blackie, Spottie, Dottie, Didymus (which means "Twin"), Oreo, Sparky, Spanky, Paleface, Snowball, and Snowflake. We don't have much acreage, but the tenant who owns the cows also rents the farm next door. They spend some time next door and some time in our back yard.

We feel lucky when they come over to our side.

We took the dog for a walk out there today (now that the snow is mostly melted) and the steers came bucking and bounding down the hill to greet us. All this while their owner was unloading feed for them from a big box truck. You would think that feed was more attractive than a couple of humans and a small dog.

What a greeting, to have ten steers bouncing (yes, steers can bounce) up to the fence to say 'hello'. Of course, we usually have a treat for them, but they didn't seem to be very hungry today. They were more interested in the dog and maybe just wanted to say 'hi' to us - who knows. We hung around with each other for quite a while.

Sad that steers are destined to be beef - but joyful that they have the 'personalities' - can cows have personalities? - to bring some joy into peoples' lives while they are here.

When they got tired of the visit, they bounded and bounced back up the hill to the feeding station.

Cows. How many people do YOU know that can find joy in cows?

Zachary's Funeral

Yesterday we buried my sister's cat, Zachary. Funerals are always sad, but bizarrely, sometime burying a pet is much worse than burying a human. What pet has ever deliberately done you harm? Most are creatures that just provide unconditional love, warmth and companionship.

My sister had Zachary longer than she's had her children. He was a beautiful black and white domestic shorthair, and in his younger days, we never knew him because he was your typical 'scaredy cat'. In later years, he endeared us during family gatherings. The food would arrive on the table and with a loud "MEOW" he was underfoot, begging for a treat.

"He has kidney disease, don't feed him anything" my sister would screech, as I dropped him a morsel of chicken or whatever was on the grill. Poor cat was on a special diet to prolong his miserable life. I just wanted him to have something tasty to eat besides dry cat food.

The treats didn't kill him - he lived years beyond the barbeques.

So, we dug a hole for him in our backyard, where our old house used to be (we demolished it last year and built a new house closer to the street). Zachary had been in a crypt for a couple of weeks (actually, a garbage can in the shed) because the ground was frozen and we couldn't dig a grave. My brother-in-law was somewhat grossed out about handling the body - I think it was his first experience with personally burying a pet. I would have been more gentle about placing the cat in the grave, but he sort of unceremoniously dumped Zach out of the garbage can and into the hole... maybe he was just trying to be the 'tough guy'... I don't know.

Zachary had a "Fly Over" - two sets of geese and a helicopter. If a cat can have a military funeral, Zach had it. In a nature sort of way.

We put our wilted Christmas wreaths over the grave, along with some good heavy stones, to discourage the coyotes from digging him up for a snack. My sister and I cried a little bit. My brother-in-lay said "Bye, Zach" as he drove away - and so we cried a little more.

All this for a cat.

Bye, Zach.

Pizza On the Porch

Crazy, crazy people do crazy things when they are tired of Winter and desperate for Spring. Well... we came home from work today and decided to sit out on the porch. It was probably about 47 degrees F - not exactly porch weather, but the lack of a breeze made it tolerable.

We decided to order a delivery pizza for dinner - and eat it out on the porch. Stubbornly, we waited out there for the pizza guy (a good half hour) and then had our dinner on the porch. Remind me to slap myself on the side of my head if I get another cold or sinus infection. What's that commercial? "We all do dumb things."

But I have to admit that the fresh air felt great, it was good to wave to the neighbors driving by, and the flock of red-winged blackbirds that flew over the house gave us a tremendous sense of hope that Winter is on the way out and Spring is right around the corner...

Need Spring Now!!!

OK, I'm tired of all this snow and slop on the roads and gloominess. Need spring now!!! I need sunshine, warm weather, green grass, dandelions, May flowers, violets - SPRINGTIME!!! The snow, cold and gloom are getting me down - I eagerly await the warmer weather... except for the warmer weather than sends rain and snow melt cascading into my cellar... cleanup is a beast.

Send Spring, somebody please!!!

Girl Scout Cookies

The winter is wearing us down, but there was a bright spot in our day today. The Girl Scout Cookies arrived! We bought five different kinds, and debated the wisdom of sampling each kind today. In the end, we decided on two. Ratings follow.

The new lemonade cookies are large, tart, and very lemony. We tried them first, and that was a good thing. As refreshingly tasty as they were, they couldn't hold a candle to the peanut butter chocolate coateds. I could have devoured a whole box of those in one sitting. I limited myself to three for now, but plan to re-visit the box later tonight.

Considering that last night's dinner was corn chips and queso dip, we're not doing well food-wise this week. I'll have to go back to the medicine soup that I mentioned in an earlier post.

Medicine Soup

My sister has a wicked cold, so I decided to make her some homemade soup. My standard recipe starts with bay leaves, carrots, onions and celery. I chop and sautee them in a little olive oil to start. And I use chicken broth (the easy kind, from a box or a can). Hey, I think that's a pretty good effort for a vegetarian.

In this batch of soup I decided to throw in a bunch of garlic (a natural antibiotic) and a lot of dill (good for an upset stomach).

The house smells divine. Let's hope the Medicine Soup does something to make her feel better.

Rachel Ray, eat your heart out. I made the soup in 30 minutes or less.

Over The Hill

It was a rough weekend. My sister was up from Georgia with her husband, two-year-old son and infant daughter for the girl's Baptism.

We tried to do as much family gathering stuff for them as possible - a sit-down dinner for 9 adults on Friday, a post-Baptism buffet for 10 adults and 5 children (all under the age of 6) on Saturday... it was rough. Martha Stewart we are not. Perfectionists we are, and we had melt-downs whenever things went awry (like, there was a mountain of pots and pans to wash, dry and put away because we needed countertop space for the buffet - and we had to leave for the Baptism in five minutes... and then I dropped the directions to the church under the car and they stuck in a mud puddle)... The toddler got Valentine's Day chocolate all over the white and pale blue striped sofa... the brother-in-law aggravated my 87-year-old uncle and made him shout ... we ran out of red wine...

But then there were the good parts. My cousin's pumpkin soup was divine. The sausage-potato-vinegar pepper dish was a tremendous hit. I taught my 3 nephews and niece how to spit. Loudly. We got a handful of "It's A Girl" cigars (just need nicer weather so we can go outside to smoke them). Georgia nephew swept the floor with his white teddy bear (so we didn't have to) and we laughed our butts off when his mother saw the bear. Turned over the sofa cushions so the chocolate smears don't show. "A good time was had by all" (I hate that phrase, but it was the truth).

So much more to tell... but this old lady now realizes that ONE party is enough work - two was far too much (despite all the help from family). I am really feeling like I am over the hill. Next family gathering will be in Georgia. I hope.

Spa Nights and Snowstorms and Valentines

Well... Spa Night was something different. I poured the hot water for the foot soaks and it was waaaaay too hot. We steamed our feet over the tubs for a good half hour before we could actually put them into the water. And by then it was almost too cold. I guess I'm just not a spa type of person. Throw me into a good hot shower and I'm good to go. Manicure? What's that? You're talking to a farmer's daughter, here...

Fortunately, "Finding Nemo" was a great success after the failed foot soaks. We have all seen it so many times, we didn't even cry at the sad parts. It has become a real 'cult movie' for us - we are one with the seagulls - "Mine? Mine? Mine?" And the best scene for us will always be Darla's arrival, with all the hysteria and screaming and Nemo's great escape. Awesome stuff.

We didn't go to work today - snowstorm followed by ice and then torrential rain. As I write, our cellar is gradually filling up with snow melt coming in through the window wells. Nothing I tried today could keep the water from pouring in. I got really frustrated over it at one point, stomped around the house and slammed a few doors. Didn't make me feel any better. I finally started to sing the "Happy Boy" song - have you heard that one? "I'm a happy boy, happy boy - ain't it great when things are going my way, hey HEY!" Of course, I'm not a boy, I'm a girl, but it's a good tune to get you out of a foul mood.

Valentine's Day. What can be done to get you out of a foul mood on Valentine's Day when you don't have a Valentine? Chocolate helps, but sometimes I think it would just be better if people politely avoided the mention of V-Day to those of us who so obviously do not have Valentines anywhere within shooting range.

Feeling rather sorry for Neighbor's (soon to be ex) wife. They say that "it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all", but I question that. Valentine's Day is hard on the singles, but must be a lot harder on those who once had - and lost - their Valentine...

Let It Snow...

Well, we're getting slammed with another lovely New England snowstorm. They are predicting ice followed by heavy rain and flooding, this time. Wonderful. Time to mop the cellar again.

I've told everyone that if the weather is lousy, I won't be going to work tomorrow. I drive like a granny in this sort of weather, but the typical New Englander does not, so I prefer to stay off the road when I can. New England drivers are bad any time of the year, but much worse in snowy conditions.

My biggest gripe is the cell phone driver. We can always tell who is on the cell phone. They clog the middle lane of the highway (that's the freeway, to you west-coasters). Generally they travel 10 to 15 mph slower than the speed limit. They talk with their hands (despite holding a cell phone firmly to their ear with one hand, and attempting to steer with the other). We blaze past them, glaring and cursing and generally letting out as much road rage as possible before the state troopers catch us.

I look forward to the day when the commute to work is as simple as "Beam me up, Scotty". Or when everyone works from home. I worked from home for a while this year, and I loved it. Particularly when it was snowing.

Let it snow. Our plow guy needs to make a living as much as we do.

Spa Night

We are having Spa Night tonight... Neighbor's (soon to be ex) Wife is bringing the foot tubs and epsom salts. Oh yes, and the wine. Today I bought the strawberries for the muscato, and we are cooking dinner. There is a backup plan. If my soy crumble stroganoff doesn't work out, we'll serve store-bought rotisserie chicken or fried eggs (again). And salad rarely fails, so I think we'll be fine.

We'll watch a video - Finding Nemo is top choice, so far. My Big Fat Greek Wedding may not be appropriate in the current situation. We dragged a box of videos up from the old house - not sure what's in there, but as long as it isn't National Geographic lions and hyenas slaughtering antelopes and bunnies, I'll be happy with it. I don't watch movies very often, so I guess the video alone will be a real treat.

And we'll listen to Wife's side of the story, and probably cry with her a bit more. Not sure whether I am looking forward to Spa Night or not, but it beats shoveling snow.

Ashes

Being Roman Catholic isn't always easy. I'm one of those that goes to Church every weekend, tries to be good. Well today is Ash Wednesday, and one of the Catholic traditions is to go to Mass and receive ashes on our foreheads (when we are marked with ashes, the priest or minister says, "remember man that you are dust and unto dust you shall return" or "turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel". Oh, if you're not Catholic, it's a long, long story. Never mind that for now.

In any event, at lunchtime today I went to a local chapel for Mass. Got my ashes from a sweaty, heavy-handed (and over-zealous, in my opinion) minister. I had a black cross the size of a small donkey on my forehead. I was totally humiliated. I went back to work and the first guy that saw me (obviously not a Cathlolic) did a double-take and gave me a horrifed look.

I immediately went to the nearest bathroom and tried to scrub the black goo off my forehead, but only succeeded in making a huge greay smear. You don't use water to remove ashes, by the way - you let it dry and DUST it off. A co-worker came in and saw what I was doing, and proceeded to tell me that she has such a huge halo, she doesn't need ashes.

And then the guilt trip set in. Did I deny my religion (or Christ Himself) by rubbing off those ashes? Or was I following His instruction to go off to a quiet place to pray by yourself rather than displaying in public that you are fasting?

I am confused. You would think that after 45 years on the face of this earth, I would have stuff like this figured out. Not so. I have a lot to learn. And it ain't over til the fat lady sings.

Tragic Loss...

Well, all the world now knows that the Patriots lost to the Giants. I wasn't phased - I fell asleep just after halftime - but I had to listen to the lamentations at work the next day.

Sometimes I think that I was sent to my current job to be a mental health counselor (for which I am totally unqualified). Rick (names changed to protect the innocent) stops by on his way to the men's room to comment on the football game (who cares?) and then tease me about driving my sister to work every day. Hey, what's the big deal? I don't ride alone and we have a great time. Donnie stops in to chat with my office mate. He is hard of hearing (like I am) and when he gets going on his war stories, the noise is deafening and I don't get a stitch of work done. Marsha (not my office mate, but the other Marsha) comes in to lament about the football team losing but admits that she is over the tragedy because baseball season is about to start. And then there's my own office mate, who is oblivious to football but chatters incessantly about everything imaginable, all day long, sometimes on the telephone but generally to me. I am accustomed to silence while I work and the noise distracts me so badly that I constantly forget what I am working on. I have never been one to think out loud, and it is amazing (and distressing) to be trapped in an office with someone so very much unlike myself.

Isn't life good, that I have only these things to complain about? Isn't it??? I question my resentment toward all of these visitors - after all, we all need some sort of human companionship.

But I am finding that I prefer the silent type - not the strident voices, but the words on paper (I am showing my age, now). I have always preferred pen pals over phone pals. Why? I think because they give me the time and the space and the silence that I so desperately need in order to think.

GOOOO PATS!!!!

It's Super Bowl Sunday, and we are celebrating because the home team is in the big game. I'm talking Patriots (now you know that I'm from New England).

We have all of the football food ready so we won't miss any of the commercials. Yeah, we're those kind of people who don't follow football until the very end of the season... and then we watch it mostly for the commercials. Of course, with the home team playing, it has a little more interest this year.

Don't tell anybody, but I'm in love with Tedy Bruschi. I know, I know - he's married with kids - but I promise I will just look and not touch. I have a couple of pictures of him hanging around the house. He's just the type of guy I've always wanted - short, stocky, dark-haired, rugged good looks - just like my first boyfriend. Bruschi sounds like an Italian name - and speaking of Italian, that's another thing that I like - Italian food.

I love to cook, and it shows. One of my favorite foods of all time is spaghetti. When we were kids, my father used to cook spaghetti for us with butter and mushroom powder. Heavenly! You don't find mushroom powder in the grocery stores these days, but you can find it on the internet.

People of Polish heritage (as I am) are generally very much into cooking with mushrooms. Here is a childhood recipe that I have always loved:

Sautee a batch of wild mushrooms in butter with sliced onions, salt and pepper. If you can't find wild mushrooms, shittake mushrooms are probably the next best thing. Portabella works OK. When the mushrooms and onions are tender, add a little splash of cream to the pan. Outrageously delicious. Use it as a side dish or over spaghetti.

I've gone mushroom picking with my mother, and in later years with my sister, but these days I stick to store-bought. If you don't know what you're doing, wild mushrooms can be lethal. And now that America has discovered 'gourmet' food, mushrooms are much more plentiful in the grocery store. I remember the days when all you could get were the plain white buttons. Better than canned, but nothing like wild.

On that note - I need to get a batch of frozen 'portabella bites' (puff pastry with mushroom stuffing) into the oven before the game starts.

GOOOOO PATS!!!

The Surprise was Unpleasant

So... Neighbor (and his Wife) came over for dinner. They loved my recipes, we enjoyed the moscato wine that they brought, we laughed, we talked. The lovely meal ended with Ghiradelli (don't ask me how to spell that) chocolates.

Suddenly Wife said, "We have to talk", and proceeded to announce that she and Neighbor were splitting up, and gave us all the reasons.

Foolishly, I struggled to think of the right thing to say. The four of us were heartbroken and in tears. My feeble attemps were crap like, "it happens to a lot of people" and "thank God there aren't any children involved". I felt like an idiot and I was talking like a bigger idiot.

Finally I got it right. "Sooooo," I said, "which one of you gets the house?"

We all laughed and cried some more and then I said, "I'm going to put on some music" and Neighbor's wife screamed, "CAN WE DO KITCHEN AEROBICS???" (Kitchen aerobics at our home consists of playing loud music while dancing, marching or strutting around and around our huge kitchen). We generally do it privately but Neighbor and his wife are better than family so we do it with them whenever they visit. It can get pretty ugly (consider the title of this blog) so we only share kitchen aerobics with the very best of friends.

We started with "Stairway to Heaven" (somber start, but we all howled the last line together), threw on some lively American tunes after that ("American Made", "Semper Fidelis", "Oh, Susanna") and then took a bit of a break during "Shenandoah" and "Swanee River".

Back on the dance floor for "City of New Orleans" (we know all the words)and finally "God Bless America", which we sang opera style. Neighbor is a killer baritone.

We sent them home on a high note (so we hoped) and watched them walk in the darkness until they were in the safety of their own driveway (soon to be his, not hers). Wife crowed like a rooster to indicate they were home, and I responded with my very best wicked witch laugh.

Yeah, we're all adults but we act like kids as often as we can. Life is so short. Today I attended the funeral of a friend, and he was only 50 years old. The end of Neighbor/Wife's marriage is a sort of a death for us, as well.

On a happy note - a good friend of mine got me started on this blog thing, and I'm having great fun with it. Not sure where it will go or who will care about reading it, but I have always loved to write and I'm going to enjoy it for all that it's worth.

Dinner Guest Tonight

I am very much into cooking and tonight we're having a dinner guest (our next-door neighbor). What to do??? I am a vegetarian. Do I go out and buy some sort of chicken or beef for the guest?

I struggled with this all day. Then it was crunch time. Make the decision. Neighbor knows I'm a vegetarian; neighbor is not a fussy eater. Neighbor is still a guest - but it's my freaking next door neighbor, who knows us like we're family!!!

We went vegetarian. Butternut and acorn squash (a blend), peeled, boiled, and mashed with butter and salt. Such beautiful food needs nothing more.

A simple salad - romaine, European cucumber and grape tomato.

For the main course - brown rice (with butter and salt, natch) - with canned cannelini beans, Ro-Tel tomatoes with chiles, and a can of fire roasted tomatoes with garlic. The chef's sample was mighty tasty.

Neighbor is bringing muscato wine and 'a surprise'. Hmmm. More on that tomorrow...

Calming down a little now...

I have journaled (on paper) since I was about 10 years old - there are boxes and boxes of my heart and soul in the basement - but I've never given in to the seduction of blogging.

Until today.

Who knows what will become of this! Fame? NO!!! Glory? NO!!! The joy of writing down words (uh, sorry, I mean typing words) just for the sake of writing? YES!!!

Wait and see what happens next - it ain't over til the fat lady sings...

Freak! I just BLOGGED!!!

I can't believe I am doing this. Freak!!!