Blue Moon and New Years Eve

We did not go to New York City. Before we could roll out the snow rolled in and after the crazy travel to and from Presque Isle, Steve was not willing to do that again so soon - this time with New Years Eve traffic. We always think of it as amateur hour anyhow. All these people who don't know how to drink, getting as drunk as possible, as quickly as possible and the prospect of snow and ice on the roads - no thankyou. So on this last night of the decade, the night of a blue moon (the 13th in the lunar year) we made sushi and stayed home with friends and family. The Zizzi's joined us for dinner and the evening, Gloria and James and Jon ate with us before they departed for their respective parties and we had a sushi meal of epic proportions. Nice to go low fat and virtually veg after the high fat dairy excesses of the past week or two. And then part two of our celebrations, my favorite part, we went off to the woods at Goldsmith and snow shoed in the dark. It was marvelous. We were the only people out there, there was a coating on the trees and the full moon peered down at us through a hazy sky, so the light was luminous and shadowless. Gorgeous walking. I have many thoughts about the decade as yesterday's post probably clued you in on - but today I'm willing to let that go and say a fond farewell. Many sweet things happened in the past decade and I am looking forward to many more sweet things in the one to come.

Closing Out the Year

In two days it will be January 1st of a New Decade. Yes, the capitals are deliberate. I think back on the Y2K craziness and the predictions of doom and gloom and think although apocalypse was not as immediate or complete as the doomsayers had imagine, in this decade passing, apocalypse certainly did come. We saw the twin towers fall, the economy collapse, two wars sap the soul of our nation and further empty it's coffers, plague emerge in the form of Sars, avian and H1N1 viruses and the disasters that were the Pacific Tsunami and Katrina, cast into sharp relief our impotence (and in the case of Katrina, incompetence) when faced with the forces unleashed by nature. We have new words in our vocabularies, and new media - facebook anyone? We interact more immediately, more intimately, and yet, we are disconnected from each other in profound and unsettling ways. Our reality has become entertainment, and our entertainment has become "reality". There have been personal victories and personal tradgedies for everyone I know in the decade, and the only consistent thing about them is that they are universal.

Rascal, and oh yes, the rest of us.

What a surprise that Rascal is the hit of the visiting Kelley-Morgan-Buccieri clan. No, not really. It has been apparent for some time, that Rascal is the most memorable, most charming, most beloved dog around. At least according to some who see her only on occasion. She's wormed her way into my father's good graces and gotten cheese, meat and other tidbits because she lies. She looks up at dad with her big brown eyes and tilts her head and uses her particular form of non verbal communication that goes something like "look how cute and painfully thin I am. look how hungry I am because they NEVER feed me. I am starving and that's a fine looking peice of cheddar (pork, muffin, toast) that you've got there. And you couldn't possibly ignore a poor starving dog while you eat it, now could you?" Suffice it to say, her mind control worked and she left Presque Isle stuffed and spoiled. At least she didn't throw up in the car. The drive down was hideous enough with frozen slush, black ice and white out conditions on the road. I was insane, particularly when James took the wheel.

Northward bound

To Presque Isle. And this pretty much is what he view is going to be most of the way there. Snow covered fields, trees and utility poles. Its a flying trip to see the parents/grandparents but since time is at a premium and James is around we need to take advantage of these moments to see each other. But first a stop at the Thompsons in Kittery to see some of the cousins - Patrick in from London, Dave up from CT teaching, Ellie home from University and the youngest Kelley's too. Caroline, elegant and tall, Jack spunky and charming, and Baby Ian changing by the minute - smiling now and very patient with the adult game of pass the baby. Their parents are just tired. And the rest of us wander between nostalgia and gratitude that it's not ME changing dirty diapers and getting up at all hours.

Back to Normal

My most favorite gift (I think) Eco Alpaca yarn from
James and Gloria. Buttery soft and just perfect for
something warm to wrap around my neck

Christmas 2009 is officially over, even though we have 11 more days until Epiphany (the 12 days of Christmas, dear daughter) and I am somewhat relieved. I like many things about the holiday, but this year at work felt a lot more demanding than in other years and Christmas suddenly was upon me at home. I spent most of the day cleaning and cooking, awaiting our family - poor James got in at 10:30 Christmas Eve, sans luggage and spent part of Christmas day retrieving it - and then ate far too much. Which seems to be the holiday
thing. I love all that good food. And my middle aged metabolism likes to hang on to. Every. Single. Calorie. (Feeling fat today, can you tell?) In spite of hours of exercise and what passes for dietary restraint most days - I even leave the half and half out of my coffee now - belly rolls seem to have taken up permanent residence. Yet, the idea of going out in the inclement weather this morning for any kind of exercise isn't particularly appealing. Today is a day off for so many things, including fitness, and I'm going to savor it. Back to work, exercise, dieting soon enough.

So Christmas is over, I am indulged in yarn, the best leftovers in the world and an abundance of love, so I'm going to settle in to this day after with knitting and family while the snow turns to ice, which turns into rain, (we hope - at least that's the forecast). And leftovers. Don't forget the leftovers.

Santa Came Through. ..

With flying colors. Colors of alpaca yarn that is. My two favorite gifts? Several skeins of plush, lush, warm and soft "eco" alpaca (I guess that means the alpacas are raised with love in environmentally and socially sustainable networks. . .) yarn from James and Gloria. I have already cast on a scarf. It might be for me, but it will probably be for Steve because he loves them so much. Just knitting this stuff is a vast pleasure. Other favorite gift? A book on Runes, the Anglo Saxon Rune poems, the heroic epics and the Prose Eddas from Steve. Yes, I am a nerd. Happily so. When Nordic esoterica gets to be to much, I can always pick up a mystery or something. We have plenty of genre books around these days. Steve also got me a GPS, but I made him promise to set it up and show me how to use it otherwise it will sit unused. Most of today will be a cooking day. But I'm okay with that - and I love having people here - the house gets really clean. Steve talked to Julia on the phone - she's not joining us - and in great detail described the meal we were having, until she told him to stop. So in keeping with the sensitive theme, here's some pictures of yummy food we're eating.

In your honor Sarah, I promise. The pumpkin roll is courtesy of Jon and we collaborated on the log. Yum. And then at some point the excess comes to an end. Really. Until the next feast days.

It Bears Repeating. . .

These are the closing words I used for the 4 o'clock service. Redundant yes, but they bear repeating!




Bless us all as this day turns into evening. Bless those known and
unknown to us, those close to us and those who live - now - only in
our hearts. Bless us in our homes, bless us in our travels, bless us
in our celebrations and bless us that we can await and welcome the
soft gentle, coming of love... May these blessings of love hold
us as we turn gratefully and tenderly to each other of this night of
miracles and wonder.

- Shalom. Salaam. Blessed be. Amen.

The 12th day of Tacky

Last one. Saving the full house effect shot for last. Best one for last? I think not (my personal favorite being the Santa on his polar bear mount), but it wins the OCD of Holiday Decorating Award and has got to be in the running for the excessive carbon footprint light show. But tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I will set aside my inner critic and let the light show be the light show. It's been fun mocking giant elves and inflatable creches' though.

The 11th Day of Tacky

And the Grinch with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? And he puzzled and puzzled til his puzzler was sore. It came without ribbons, it came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. The the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come just from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more? - Dr. Suess

But not more inflatable yard art. . . we have enough.

Winter Solstice 12:47 pm Hooray!

And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.

- Susan Cooper

Bright and Snowy Solstice

Winter blew in with a vengeance this morning. At 2 or so in the am when I was sleepless, no snow -this morning, up I get and we're into a full fledged blizzard. I remember a year ago when I drove to work in a similar blizzard the same day Sarah and Jon came home for the winter break from Amherst. We're all or nothing with the snow it seems. Either so much you're crying "uncle" or the ground is bare and the temps unseasonable. This morning had a sense of deja vu as I drove/slid to work early and decided to stay put until the snow had stopped falling and the road crews had a chance to get out and do their thing. I've had a lot of recent experience with driving down the highway and gazing at vehicles off the side of the road, twisted hulks of metal with bystanders weeping into their hands. Not too bad today - just a couple of wrecks on the way, but worse is the yahoos who think because they have a big all wheel drive vehicle that the laws of gravity are suspended on their behalf. I had a full work day, ending with the solstice celebration and wreath burning which is part of this congregation's worship culture - and just before the sun vanished into the longest night of the year - the clouds parted and the most glorious colors painted the sky. A real promise of returning light. We've reached the nadir, no where to go but lengthening days and strengthening sunshine. Bright Sosltice indeed.

The 10th Day of Tacky

I guess one of the penguins is shy. . .

The 9th Day of Tacky

I really think it looks like Santa and the snowman (Frosty?) have their arms around a moose NOT a reindeer, but then what do I know?

The 8th Day of Tacky

How Creepy is this Santa? If I were a small child I might be having nightmares about now. . .

The 7th Day of Tacky

We just followed the glow in the sky - can you tell?

The 6th Day of Tacky

Santa riding a polar bear? Sarah, doesn't the World Wildlife Federation have something to say about that?

The 5th Day of Tacky

Finally, what it's all about. I've actually seen inflatable versions of the creche which look like something out of a children's book - this baby Jesus family is actually kind of cute. Well, except for the fact that they're 10 feet tall and glow from within. ..

The 4th Day of Tacky

This is one of many polar bear yard decorations. I sort of get the deer, the santa's and the trees. But polar bears? With bows? And it looks like it's about to leap for my throat - sort of like Rascal on a bad day. . .

The 3rd Day of Tacky

This elf/Santa guy must be a very old one. I can't imagine any post 70's yard art containing a smoker's pipe! Very not PC. What will the children think? The children will probably think that the glossy blue eyes and the heil Hitler salute are creepy and weird, that's what they'll think. ..

The 2nd Day of Tacky

And they're all here. The Christmas Icons - Tweedie Bird, Tiger, Winnie the Pooh, Homer Simpson, and Sponge Bob. There is actually a dinosaur in the foreground but it didn't get into the photo frame. Sorry, I was simply. . .overwhelmed.

The 1st Day of Tacky

Why ARE they waving at me? As the countdown to Christmas starts in on the last couple of weeks, the yard art is in full frenzied, lit up tacky display. We made it over to the street in Tewksbury where the entire street appears to have been infected by the lack of taste and the light bulb overkill of the first house (Remember that one? With lights on every single square inch of roofline? And toy soldiers lined up to bring. . .Peace on Earth?) At any rate, I thought it would be fun to share with you the tacky days of Christmas. Not quite the same as Vietnam tacky, but nonetheless, a classic bit of New England in December.

By the Dawns Early Light

I'm over it. Sunday's snow charmed me with it's dusting on the trees and the diamond sparkle thing that dry snow does. And then we got more today. I got up and looked out upon this. And began using very bad language because once again, I BELIEVED the weather guys when they said just a little snow and then a swift changeover to rain. So, of course I left my car at the bottom of the driveway. FAIL. Big Time. We probably had 4 inches when I got up, and then a couple more in quick order. And those inches were not of the dry fluffy type. No, we got, of course, the wet cement that passes itself off as snow. Out I went, shovel in hand to clear the driveway. And this is what it looked like when I was done. Not clear, you may notice.


Whilst I was clearing the driveway the weather gods were equally busy filling it back in again. I went out twice more to try to stay with it in hopes that I and my car can escape it tomorrow. And then it turned to rain and most of the snow has melted off. I can never quite get over the back aches I get from moving. . .WATER.

Yes. I'm over it. So. Over. It.

More lights

Our tree went up really early this year. I think partly because we were actually home to go get it without having it be a big production and also because we are pushing back the dark. Every single light I can justify. Every night and every day. Lots of lights going on at early hours and staying on all night because I want to see them when I get home. With just a couple of weeks until winter solstice we are deep in the December darkness. The days are so short and it seems that noon is followed by night by the time I life my head from whatever piece of writing I'm doing. Of course we celebrate Christmas and Hanukka and Yule and a handful of other festivals this time of year in the northern hemisphere. We want their lights - the candles and menorahs and twinkly lights on trees. I say bring em on. More festivals! More lights!

Snow!!!!

Sunrise (which is late this time of year) over 63. And look at all that snow on the trees. Fortunately there wasn't all that much snow in the driveway!!!!!

Before the Snow

It's grey and getting colder. Much colder. And snow is in the forecast. We've got cars at the top of the driveway so I can make my escape to work in the morning. Four to six inches in the forecast. Snow, at last. The clouds are rolling in and they look like they mean business. We're off to meet Ian, the newest of the Kelley's today. Ian and snow, a lovely December combination.

Lights

Now it begins. The weekend after Thanksgiving most of the lights went up and this week most of the lights went on. Some are tasteful. Some are not. Some look like UFO's. This is from the house down the street which is decorated by "Christmas Decor" the pay for light stringing outfit that must make a mint off the owners of McMansions in the burbs. I remember my dad looking for that one bulb that was making the whole string go dark - so I kind of get it. On the other hand, I thought that putting up your own Christmas decorations, doing your own shopping and wrapping, and cooking was what it was all about. Otherwise it turns into a mere consumer opportunity. And I was Trader Joes with Kate the other day and saw an advent calendar. A countdown to Christmas. With no nativity, no sign of what the holiday was originally all about. Just bells, reindeer and trees. Commerce wins out over myth in the end.

Friday Photo Quiz

Today is December 3rd. One of these pictures was taken today. One of these pictures was taken on April 18th. Which is which?

















No, the snow shot was not taken today. It was 69 degrees outside this afternoon when I walked the dog. And the lawn at the cemetery looked like it could have been a golfing green.












The snow shot was taken on our desert vacation last April, when it was 28 degrees and we got 48 inches of snow stranding us in Idaho Springs CO.

The Lights have Landed

And I caught them in the act, as I was leaving work tonight - late meeting - and the streets were almost deserted ahead of rain. The town of Winchester has gone green with LED lights; they take less energy to power and make a blue white glow on the trees. Some trick of the camera, or perhaps a tic of the photographer captured them shimmering to earth, but these lights are artful even when they're not dancing. They're a Zen garden of light, stranded elegantly over bare branches in the small downtown district. I rather enjoy the tasteful display, but there are other displays of incredibly poor taste which I also enjoy. It's December when elegant and cheesy go side by side all in the name of Christmas.

AH HA!!!!

The month of the longest nights and shortest days has arrived. Yesterdays clouds are long gone and we have cold air and sun. We also have flowers of December. Not the poinsettias, red, or white - the white ones look like ghost flowers really weird - but this bloom of ragweed fluff which still maintains it's flowery shape. It's not as ghostly as the aforementioned poinsettias, rather it puts me in mind of fluffy snow. The kind that sticks to the trees and sparkles in the next morning's sun. December is playing it's gotcha games with me already. I am humming cheesy Christmas carols and thinking longingly of snow? DECEMBER. AH HA!!!!

Monochrome

It's a fitting end to November that it goes out with grey skies and rain. I always think of November as the grey month, when everything, sky, trees and landscape is a palette of greys. Today the clouds swept in and the rain commenced and that combined with the early dusk we get this time of year made for a monochromatic afternoon. I stepped out of my office and took this shot through the branches of the tree by my bolt door. (Its an emergency exit - no crocodiles on the other side of course, but there is a middle school and middle schoolers which might be just as scary. . .) No that's not the almost full moon, although that's where it would be in the sky - it's a drop falling toward the camera lens.

Light Bowling

When it's too hot for a fire but you want to sit in front of the fireplace and enjoy some ambiance what do you do? You light up a bowl. No, not like that. Like this.

I Love a Parade

And I loved this float most of all. We took our house guests over to Lowell, a city I spend far too little time in, to wander around and see the sights. After a browse through an art show and a visit to the Boott Mills exhibit in the National Park we made our way over to the sidewalk for the "City of Lights" holiday kick off parade. I can get pretty cynical about this stuff - the kick off to holiday shopping and more cheap s**t from China, but the local artisans and shopkeepers were all hopeful that we might spend some of our hard earned dollars locally. (They would be right of course) And to sweeten the deal they threw in a parade with marching bands from several high schools, girls scouts and boy scouts galore and the emergency services vehicles - police, fire and EMS and this. Part apology, part challenge, part plea on behalf of the snow plow operators. Sorry, plow people. I DO take it personally. When I've shoveled and labored over piles of snow at the top of my driveway and you come along and fill it back in? After hours? Not take it personally? Not a chance. (Especially when I've seen the plow trucks taking their break at the local pub. . .) Lift the plow and we'll have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

First Fire of the Season

It finally got cold enough to have a fire in the fireplace without needing to open windows. Although I would have loved a Thanksgiving with crackling logs, it was just too hot. We would have been down to t-shirts and sandals over turkey. But Friday, the cooler air swept in and I collected some damp logs from the porch, paper and fat wood and created this beauty. Now that the house smells like wood smoke, can snow be far behind?

The Table is Set.. . .

And we give thanks. We give thanks for the family that is with us. We give thanks for the friends who have come to share our day. We give thanks for the bounty on the table. We give thanks for the capacity for pleasure in the meal and in each other. We give thanks for the phone calls and the emails and the thoughts of those who are not with us. And we give thanks for the time we have in these bodies and feast of the senses they experience. We are blessed. And we give thanks.

I read a marvelous quote from an ordinary human, "the source of all celebrations is within". If we did not have marvelous feast and a gathering of friends and family, to take the time and give thanks would have been just as meaningful. And from the point of view of the hosts, what could have been a stressed out, over the top cranky picky bossiness (I am a control freak in the kitchen - comes from all those years of cooking for pay) day of preparation was an easy set of tasks with my two guys - Jon and Steve - working like a well oiled machine. And unlike other years while I ran between cooking and hostessing, I let that go, trusting that the family and friends assembled didn't need me to manage their social interaction. So while the guests enjoyed each other I gave myself the luxury of attending the cooking hearth in an unhurried way. I let myself be grateful for the ability to make this meal, the assistance of my son and spouse, the opportunity to welcome people into our home (and gratitude that having guests is such a catalyst for house cleaning). All celebrations come from within. And it was lovely within and without. And it would have been just as lovely with fewer sides, an unbrined turkey and only two kinds of pie. But, in spite of my pledges to simplify, simplify, simplify, as long as my personal situation allows, I will still go over the top with all the goodies of this food centered holiday. I am after all, my mother's daughter. And her mother's granddaughter, and . . . and for that, too, I give thanks.

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.
It turns what we have into

enough, and more.
It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order,

confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a

home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past,

brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.

.

Melody Beattie

Fronts Collide

Or maybe the term is "fronts stall", but whatever is going on weatherwise it's still warm for November and we've been wrapped up in a fog cocoon today. You can hear the trees drip moisture and the downed leaves are glossy with wet. It's very nice on the heating the bills - I have this parodoxical gratitude for global warming in that regard - and at the same time (as I've said often of late) just a little creepy. It's supposed to be cold this time of year. And crisp with the smell of snow in the air. But that's not what we have, and when it gets cold it will probably swing overnight to bitter cold and snow storm after snow storm. Who knows what's going on with our climate. I certainly don't. For now, I will try to consider it a gift from the weather gods that I don't have to deal with snow while we have multiple cars parked at the bottom of the driveway.

No Place Like Gnome

There was a movie, Amelie, I think, with a traveling garden gnome. If memory serves, the gnome was kidnapped and given to flight attendant who took photos of the gnome in a variety of global locales. The gnomes owner, a stay at home, risk averse type, was inspired to begin his own travels. Our gnome had no such luck. If I'd known Sarah was going to be sleeping in hotels with crocodiles in the courtyard pool, I would have sent the gnome along. But, alas, I did not and our gnome is at home, in his perch under the grapevine. And soon, I'll move him into the mud room for winter when the view is not fabulous at all.
,

Not So Crappy?

Remember Jon and the Crappy Collage syndrome? Wherein the teaching to the eight intelligences involved decimating art and music programs, but every academic program had it's crappy collage. One day it was write an essay, the next day it was create a collage expressing your understanding of the Song of Hiawatha. An undertaking which Jon christened the "crappy collage". He was remarkably patient, and on occasion fairly artistic. I never saw the point myself, but wasn't about to tell him that at the time. Now as I make my annual forage for "what can I get out of this house?" I am finding things too precious to throw away, but unless I find something more creative to do with them, they're just going to be forgotten in boxes and drawers. At about the same time, I got a bunch of old glass/wood frames that were probably for certificates and I decided to try my hand at collage. Not so bad. And lots of fun. If I didn't have a job and a bathroom renovation project underway, I'd be perfectly happy to sit and collage away the old postcards and odd little objects that got passed to me or collected on my travels. In this one, my first the theme is knitting (what else?) but I've layered it with a postcard from my travels to Ireland a dozen years ago, a little sweater that was glued to a thank you card from a girl I taught to knit when she was 11, my first set of wooden needles that I broke at the end of a miserable week teaching at Spiral Heart, yarn that was a gift from someone I admire greatly and a couple of ruminations on art and craft. A whole lot of life in an 8X10 frame. Who knew how the not - so - crappy -collage could say so much.

Bittersweet

Has taken over the roadsides, and unfortunately our back yard as well. I blush when I think back to the early nineties when I would FORAGE for the stuff, make door swags and arrangements and then when I was done, toss the odds and ends of berries and branches into the woods behind the house. ARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH. Alien Invasives any one? Now you can't get rid of the stuff and its choking the life out of all the natives along roadsides and meadows. Mea culpa, mea cupla, mea maxima culpa. (They are pretty though).

New Moon

I read a review of the movie "New Moon" the second in the Twilight series of vampire novels turned into fodder for the silver screen or the dvd player as the case may be. In spite of the fact that I'm about the least interested movie goer of my acquaintance, I have tried to become conversant with cultural icons. Not literature, but like Harry Potter, the people's reading, and then the people's movies. I tired with Twilight, the first movie, I really did. But after 15 minutes of bad lighting, bad acting and long soulful gazes that did nothing to forward the plot, I gave up. So imagine my surprise to read that unlike the "good" first Twilight movie, "New Moon" stinks. NOOOOOO. I can't believe that it could have gotten worse. They made a really bad movie the first time around. And they managed to make it worse. Billions of years of evolution . . . and this is what we've come to. So in honor of the movie I didn't see, the book I'll never read, this picture of the new moon of mid November in Andover's very nice twilight.

Wet and Wild

This morning it was. I was out and about early - an ultrasound appointment and then work and then because I felt particularly cruddy came home to make chicken soup. In those few short hours it rained, the sun came out, it rained again. And not just a polite steady rain. This one was a gully wumper. Just between car and house I got soaked. But I got to warm up in a toasty kitchen with the soup making. Its a baroque enough process. Simmer the whole chickens with bay leaves and peppercorns for an hour or so, cool them, pick the meat, feed the dog bits, then roast the bones in the oven until they caramelize, return bones to stock pot and simmer away until the stock reduces and is a rich brown - for me about two hours. Then the celery, onions, carrots and parsley go in. Simmer and whenever we get around to eating it, add cooked noodles and chicken. Jewish penicillin. And in the days of H1N1 a good preventative to have around. (Both Kate and Steve got flu shots - I did not - feeling a little doomed right now) This photo is not mine - I don't have that many rubber chickens although it's good to have goals - hmmmm a bowlful of rubber chickens.

Not the Real Thing

I'm not a "real" photographer. I've never had a zoom or one of those screw on things that make cameras look phallic and a little scary. I've never made people stop what they were doing in the name of "art" or inavaded the privacy of perfect strangers for same. I've never had a darkroom for developing and I didn't even know I should use a lens cap. No light meters. No fancy gee gaws. Just me and the little disposable 35 mm you pick up CVS. Unfortunately bad pictures (usually of my finger or someone's but or most of their face - but not all of it) cost money, paper and waste so I was never much of a risk taker photo wise. But now, thanks to the magic of digital, I can just hit the delete button. No fuss, no muss, and no one else - even the clerk who develops photos - needs to know how many bad shots of pizza I took. And of just about everything else. So I may not be a real photographer, but at this point in time I'm a picture taker. Mostly non human subjects, since I have an almost allergic reaction to people pics on the web, but when you get tired of leaves and trees, just let me know and I'll start looking for other objects. Paperweights?

Looking Down

Its apparent that all the beauty has been stripped from the trees and we're gazing and bark skeletons until the first snow coats them. I'm fine with that. It occurred to me that the beauty is less of a stripped away type than a displacement of beauty. I walked with the four legged through the woods and since all of those leaves had to go somewhere and in obeying gravity they went "down" onto my path. No rakes, no leaf blowers in the woods. Just displaced beauty and me looking down.

The. Best. Tile. Repair. Ever.

Probably not, but I'm so pleased with my efforts, that I think so. All those years of looking at holes in tile are at an end. Last night, as you, dear daughter, no doubt read with baited breath, I removed the damaged tiles and today after I finished working on writing and marketing efforts, I REPLACED IT WITH INTACT TILE. I can see why I let it go so long. It was a royal pain in the butt to replace, but looks so much better now. Tomorrow night after standing committee meeting (or maybe before) I grout. And then the sink goes in and you get pictures. But not yet. Nothing until I have a bonne fide "after" to post. So I'll put something pretty up. Something non-repair. A leaf will do nicely. (And yes, I probably need to put more meaning in my life).

We're staying put for Thanksgiving. I didn't think it would make me as sad as it does. I love having this particular holiday with my family. My sisters and I cook, drink and gossip. The young adults are around and we can catch up on news of their lives and my parents are still with us to enjoy the feast and each other. And I am very aware that these days are fleeting and precious. We're hosting my brother and sister in law here and have added to the gathering with friends who live locally. It will be a lovely day, no doubt, but I still wish I were in Presque Isle. There is NO place like home for the holidays. Ever. What do they do in Hanoi for Thanksgiving? I wonder. . .

Macho Mom

No, not on the soccer field. Just me with my trusty wrench, drill, safety glasses and pry bar. Remember how I vowed that I would give up on the no show plumbers and do the blasted job myself? Remember? So I unhooked the sink. So far, so good. No floods. Then I got a new sink and vanity off Craigs list. So far, so good. It didn't fit. So I got a second sink off Craigs List. This one fits. And then I got a faucet. This has taken the better part of a week. So much for so far so good. (Now bear in mind that in Andover, all appliances must have the wow factor, so the sinks are accompanied by espresso stained woodwork and brushed nickel hardware and are much less expensive on Craigs List than from Ethan Allen. And one day, I will sell the house, and the 1980s look won't help me with curb appeal or bathroom appeal.) Of course the tile that has had holes in it from a previous sink retrofit have to come off so I can replace them with new, non holey tile and then plumb the new sink and console. It took me two hours to take up 8 tiles. Two from the floor, six from the wall. The floor tiles were cracked under the old sink, because some rocket scientist thought it made sense to glue the pedestal foot to the tiles with the equivalent of gorilla glue. THEN, when I got the tiles out, the cement screw that has been sticking out for all these years had to come out as well, I drilled off the cement with a masonry bit and finally managed to unscrew the sucker. That took most of an hour. I'm rethinking my ideas about how long this project will actually take. But it will be nice to wash our hands in the same room we pee in. Besides I feel so macho when I pull the safety glasses over my eyes.













This is the "before" picture. Old sink is gone, although the holey tiles are still in place. I have no plans to replace the toilet, although I might swap out the national geographics for smithsonian magazines. . .

Fading Light

The rain blew out and left us with a day that felt more like April than November. And although I worked through most of the afternoon, I did make it back to Andover in time to walk in the bird sanctuary with Steve and Rascal and then to watch the light fade as we savored the last few warm moments on the deck. We watched the sky grey and then the brilliant sunset color backdrop the trees, and fade to indigo then to black as the darkness filled in. It's extraordinary how quickly we go from day to night this time of year and extraordinary that this kind of palette is right in my own back yard. We have only to step out the door and the master artist has something marvelous on display.

PizZAH

We had guests, the senior Buccieris came for a weekend visit on Friday and weather permitting will go home tomorrow. They had not seen Liana's place yet, so down we went in the sheets of driving rain. We have a leftover tropical storm in the area and was it wild. Even Steve, the most laid back and laconic driver got off the highway because the visibility and traction were non existent. Liana and Jess prepared a lovely lunch, I ate chips which was a very bad plan, but they tasted so good. Today? Back to roasted kale, which I am still eating in large quantities. This seems to be turning into an occasional food blog - partly because I think that you (Sarah) may be missing some of our lovely family meals and quintessentially American food and partly because food is as big a part of my life as oh. . . renovating the bathrooms. No epic meal tonight though, just tossed some ingredients into the bread machine, steamed some spinach, mashed some tomatoes with olive oil and voila, pizza. Manga, people, manga. (Wait until Thanksgiving for drool over food pictures).

Talk

And then talk some more. I spent the day in a crowded conference room facilitating a table of a dozen educators, parents, would be employers and adults with autism. It was a fascinating experience - facilitation is a moving target, depending on who you're facilitating and this group was easy enough - but this town meeting model used technology in ways I have not experienced before. I'm not sure how I feel about it. And I'm not sure it made the conversations any more profound, insightful or productive than they would have been without the technology, but it was certainly interesting. There were keypads that took individuals demographic information and eventually initiative votes and prioritization were recorded on the same keypads - so when the 1000 or so people's input is analyzed there will be another layer of labeling to attach to their opinions - which could either be that they speak with the authority of their role, or that they are locked into predictable advocacy for their role. I'll be interested to see what ammendments are made to the process after today. This was a gig with America Speaks, but I think I still prefer the Public Conversations Project process, which is very low tech, very intentional and rooted in interpersonal dynamics. This seems just a little gimicky. Technology is a good thing and a useful thing, but is it always necessary? I don't know. But what I do know is that after a fairly long commute and a very long day of being "on" I'm ready for bed. (P.S. There was another baby pic today - he's still beautiful) In honor of the time keepers at todays town hall meeting, I have included this picture from our Mount Auburn visit - a funerary carving, holding an hourglass. Time slips away for us all.