flying

We’re packed… mostly. All my little 3-ounce bottles of moisturizer and liquid makeup and shampoo are zipped up safely in a one quart plastic bag. I’m no threat to anyone. We’ve managed to get everything into two carry-on bags for each of us – my purse being one. My iPod is all charged up, and it has three books on it. Hopefully, this will keep me too occupied to engage in claustrophobic hysteria. I’ve been known to be quite dramatic under certain circumstances. I do not wish for you to see me on the eleven o’clock news.

What? Have I never mentioned that I have a tendency to get a little claustrophobic on planes? And did I even tell you that H got an iPod for me? He did. I have an issue with my eyes (too boring to go into) and reading has become difficult. I read a post the other day that questioned whether listening to books was cheating. How pretentious are we going to get?

I LOVE my iPod. It is a dream come true, and even though the experience of listening to a book is different from reading it yourself, it’s still quite wonderful, and I feel fortunate to for the option.  What a world we live in.

We are so looking forward to seeing our three grandchildren and meeting the brand spanking new Lilou (lee-lou). Her mama says she has Angelina Jolie’s lips. I don’t know about that, but she definitely has extremely plump, orb-shaped, pinchable cheeks. I can tell from the pictures. And kissable and smoochable!

I’ll be somewhere in the skies tomorrow from 9:30 am till 2:00 pm. and then Lilou is mine.

 

Where did it all go wrong?

When was that blackout? Was it yesterday or the day before? Did you participate? The mind is mush. We’ve been in a tizzy for a day or two.

My office is still a mess. We WERE in the home stretch. We thought. The walls were painted; the carpet was clean. All that was left to do was hang a new shade on the window and a few black & white photos on the wall behind the desk.

The black & white photos… that’s where the trouble began. I bought a couple of those inexpensive black frames with the white matting, and I got some photos of the kids and grandkids developed for a couple of pennies. We prepared to hang them. That’s when the trouble began.

Our furniture is this old, metal junk that was left in H’s home office when he retired from AT&T. I painted it years ago with some fantastic, highly toxic, black paint that was created especially for metal. It did a marvelous job. I think I got it at Duron if you’re interested.

A few days ago, we put all the furniture back in place after cleaning the carpet. My desk is nothing more than a door (with a sheet of glass on top) that sits on top of two filing cabinets. When we were ready to hang the black & whites behind the desk, we had to move the filing cabinets away from the wall. OH, NO! There were two perfect rectangles of rust on the carpet. I had neglected to paint the bottom of the file cabinets. Who knew? It was years ago. The wet carpet had caused them to rust. We worked and worked with spot remover and did the best we could. There is significant improvement but I’m afraid the cake was left out too long in the rain and “I’ll never have that recipe again.” What can you do?

We drove down to see Dad yesterday. It was a nice trip and he seemed well. He was pretty animated about some family gossip. He does love gossip. The other topic of conversation was about a duck my brother had cooked for him. He was still licking his lips.

We will try to get the office back in shape today. The carpet is completely dry this time. Then we’ll begin packing. We’re flying out to see our newest granddaughter on Monday morning. We’re pretty excited about that.

That’s all the news around here.

Now, about Wikipedia. Where’s the light? Oh, somebody found it. Whew!

 

Sleep Demons

The Nightmare by Johann Heinrich Füssli

You know I have crazy sleep habits, but this isn’t about me. It’s about my son. A number of my family members are plagued with these issues. Many of us wake very early in the morning (3:30 for me this morning). Some of us have terrifying nightmares, and now my son is experiencing some specific problems.

He recently told me about a recurring dream that’s been haunting him. (Forcing you to read about my dreams isn’t enough. Now you must read about his.) When the nightmare (for lack of a better word) begins, he believes he is awake. He’s aware of his breathing, and he can see what’s happening in the room, but he’s paralyzed. He lies there helplessly, peering out of half-lidded eyes, as a giant spider inches his way slowly and malevolently toward him. The spider toys with him, prolonging his agony, as he relishes my son’s fate. This “event” culminates with him in the middle of the bedroom, flailing his arms and legs around in a wild panic and screaming like a madman. Can you blame him?

I literally stumbled across this article about sleep paralysis - Psychologists Chase Down Demons. It’s about a study by psychologists at Penn State and the University of Pennsylvania. I couldn’t resist sending it to my son. What are mothers for?

The general idea is …

Sleep paralysis is defined as “a discrete period of time during which voluntary muscle movement is inhibited, yet ocular and respiratory movements are intact. Hallucinations may also be present in these transitions to or from sleep.”

“Less than 8 percent of the general population experiences sleep paralysis, but it is more frequent in two groups — students and psychiatric patients…” Don’t you know my son loved that? He’s neither a student (any longer) or a psychiatric patient… so far.

Alien abductions and incubi and succubi and other demons attack while people are asleep, or I should say these are sometimes the… um… victim’s… hallucinations during sleep paralysis. Understandably, some people dislike this experience, but others, remarkably, like it.

Anyway, I sent the link to my son, suggesting (only in jest… honestly) that sleep paralysis COULD be the culprit. I don’t think he liked my suggestion, and he offered his own suggestion that if he had another nightmare that night it would be my fault. What’s new? Isn’t that always the case. Mothers are responsible for whatever woes may beset their children. But Alien abductions and incubi and succubi?

Okay. I’ll own it.

Annother Project

Not exactly a project, but certainly a J-O-B. H rented a rug cleaner from Food Lion and spent the entire day working on the carpet in the office, the hall and stairs. What a job. I couldn’t believe how long it took. Why? Because I decided I wanted to change the furniture arrangement. When you do that, you pay the consequences. There were huge, square imprints where the file cabinets had left their impression. The carpet around them was a different color. What a mess. It required several cleanings.

Anyway, I like the arrangement. It hides the cords. That’s good because cord-exposure is nasty.

Oops. I didn’t mean to publish this. I hadn’t finished it but….. I’m hungry and the water is boiling for my spaghetti.

Time

It’s almost 6:00 am. I’ve been awake for a couple of hours. The wind woke me. The house is creaking and twitching and groaning. When I first woke, I thought I heard someone downstairs before I realized it was only the wind.

Last night, H cracked the window so I could hear the rain. Do you say “crack” instead of “open” the window a little? I believe it’s a Southern thing. We say crack and a million other things that must fall strangely on the ear of someone who isn’t from here.

My sister married a man from Vermont and moved north as a young bride, first to Wallingford, CT, then Derry, NH, and she finally landed in a beautiful little town that sits at the foot of the White Mountains, Bristol, NH. She loved it there.She assimilated quickly, sounding more like a native than her husband before long. Naturally, years of jokes and teasing ensued from both sides. I’d say, “Crack the window.” She’d say, “Get the hammer.”

I love New England and miss visiting her there. I still think of her when I say something that is particularly Southern. I don’t think of her every day now, but most days she flutters across my mind. It doesn’t hurt like it used to. Most of the time it makes me smile.

It’s funny how a void demands acknowledgment. After some time passes, it requires less attention, but it forever refuses to be completely ignored. It can never be filled, but if you throw something warm or funny or lovely in it occasionally, it doesn’t seem so vast and dark after a while.

My thoughts are with a particular blogging buddy who has suffered a recent loss. I’m hoping that her void will soften as time passes.

Martha’s Banana Bread

I found one of Martha’s recipes for banana bread the other day and decided to try it. Do you know why? Because it was simple and straightforward. I had all the ingredients on hand.

Martha built her reputation and empire by taking simple things and making them the “best” they could possibly be. She received a fair amount of criticism for this philosophy because “best” often translated to complicated and time-consuming and some characterized it as elitist. I must admit that I have seen her make chocolate chip cookies that would make my mother-in-law mutter the dreaded “fancy” word. I mean, once you have the chocolate and the sugar and the butter, how bad could it be?

I do believe Martha changed her ways when I wasn’t looking. I saw an interview the other night in which she talked about what people want today. Of course, we all know what that is. We’d like to feed our families delicious, nutritious and economical meals that don’t take all evening to prepare, and don’t have too many ingredients. And that’s kind of what she said.

When we want to experiment, I think there’s still room for recipes like the ultimate chocolate chip cookie, but many of us want some really good go-to dishes we can whip out when the world gets hectic and mean.

We smeared cream cheese on each slice.

Anyway, I found this recipe for banana bread, and there’s even a video of Martha and Hugh Jackman making it together. I certainly wouldn’t kick him out of my kitchen.  What is it about those Aussie men? Charming, disarming and alarmingly cute. That’s what. I would even share my ba-non-a bread (as he pronounces it) with Mr. Jackman.

We’re at it again.

Image: 11-2011

It’s in the sixties here today, and I’m sitting next to an open window. The air has that spring-like quality, but it’s January!

Those red-leafed trees in the background of the photo above are all bare now. That was back in early November when we painted the guest room. When we moved here ten years ago, I was in love with color. So we went bold in the guest room and office.

We’re painting the office today. Okay, I’m not painting. H is painting and I’m cheerleading, and giving weather reports to you guys. Everyone has a calling. Mine is to make the folks who do the real work feel appreciated. He put the primer on today, but I swear I will cut in for him tomorrow. (Always a good idea to prime when covering dark colors, and get the guy at the paint store to tint the primer the color of your new paint choice. This will save you an extra coat.)

Do you ever think we’re a little too ambitious  about this painting thing? It must sound as if we paint something every other week. We usually do our painting in January. Things settle down following the holidays.  That’s when I give H that look that says, “Let’s slap some paint on something.”  The paint brushes come out and we’re off to the races.

What else is there to do in January besides paint or make babies that will be born at harvest time? We don’t make babies anymore. So we’re ridding our house of bold paint colors this January, or as they say on HGTV, “Let’s neutralize!”

Don’t they say that?

I started this post hours ago and then got sidetracked. We opened windows in the office and in the room across the hall today to get the cross ventilation. It’s been such a beautiful day. I know that I said I wasn’t the one doing the work and that’s the truth, but this spring-like weather inspired me to do windows. Can you believe that? Well, it’s the truth.

We didn’t finish the painting today but we’ll finish up tomorrow. This will be our last painting project in this house. I do declare, we’re done! But don’t hold me to it.

55 and older community

We unintentionally wandered into an “active adult community” yesterday. We drove to the other side of town to look at a house we found online. It was in the typical suburban neighborhood, but it turned out to be near one of those “55 and older” communities. They had four models that were open to the public. We were there anyway, so we decided to have a look-see.

I love to see professionally decorated houses in which no one has ever lived – no wet glass staining an end table, no newspaper or socks on the kitchen counter, no cracker crumbs on the carpet. It’s just fun to see perfection occasionally, and the only place you ever see it is where humans have never been – like the side of a mountain. We’re so messy.

It was all new construction, practically no maintenance, one-floor living. They were patio homes with VERY LITTLE property and full yard maintenance for a monthly fee. We liked one of the models but it had zero storage. When I say zero, what I really mean is ZERO! What were they thinking?

I understand the time has arrived, and I’m fully willing to rid myself of excess baggage, but everyone has a Christmas wreath or crock pot  they’d like to hide away somewhere in the rafters. Just because these people are old doesn’t mean they’re ready to completely divest themselves of their worldly goods.

Anyway, we’re not ready for such a place, and I’m not sure we ever will be. I did like the house though. I’d like to have it built on our property, and add a walk up attic over the garage or something. Not a full attic, just a bit of a place for ancient love letters and an old saltwater trunk that held all my great grandmother’s possessions when she arrived in America.

It did make me think of a time when we will no longer want to mow the lawn or shovel the snow. I’m just not sure this is our solution… yet. It feels a little strange to even begin the process of figuring out what will be right for us in ten or fifteen years, but there you have it. The clock keeps ticking, and we all want to live our best life without burdening our kids. I can’t deny that those large showers and first floor masters and laundry rooms make life look pretty simple. I’d just like to look out my window without looking into my neighbor’s window, and even worse, see them looking back.

I don’t believe I ever posted this, but maybe I forgot.

Happy New Year!

I’ve enjoyed following your blogs and reading your comments during 2011. I wish you all a happy, healthful and peaceful 2012. Of course, it will probably be late February before we stop writing 2011. Happy New Year!