I’m glad that we decided to minimize garden cleanup this year and leave some winter plant structure. While I am eager for spring, this was lovely. This cold is a lot for Toledo, but it pales in comparison to the upstate NY winters I grew up with.
“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, ‘go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.” Lewis Carroll
When I was young, my mother frequently gave me cut glass pieces, often chipped, but still beautiful. I was afraid to use them and most of the time they sat, collecting dust and making me feel vaguely guilty for neglecting them. Somehow, I’m over it. These bowls are sitting on the radiator in the living room near the Christmas tree. So far, they seems to hold no interest for the cat or even for Aloisa. But I like sitting near them, I love the way they look, and I am amused by my image reflected in the cheap ornaments they are holding.
My mother was a collector, as were many of her sisters. They liked silver and china and glass. My mother didn’t particularly enjoy entertaining, but she liked to display her treasures. Mostly, I like to use mine, and I intend to use them even more. I’ve always loved old things, even more now that I am one. I wonder if any of my children will want them.
“Clutter in its highest and most organized form is called collecting. …”
I admit it: along with millions of other Americans, last night we watched Red Notice. Sometimes pure escapism is okay, right?
But in books, as opposed to television, my standards are higher. I’ve begun the new Louise Erdrich novel, The Sentence, and I fully intend to finish it this week. Oddly, the last book I read was also about books.
Before I made my choice and downloaded the Erdrich book, I made a quick stop at B&N, expecting that, despite my intention to avoid adding clutter to my bookshelves, I would find something irresistible. It turns out that, post-pandemic, my stuff-resistance muscles have become stronger. The only thing I bought was a chocolate brownie, quickly consumed.
Since we were on our own for dinner, I turned to Melissa Clark’s menu for two . Because John felt like cooking and I had already thawed scallops and bought romaine (from a NYC greenhouse, oddly), I zeroed in on Melissa’s dessert recipe and made the pumpkin-and-date sticky toffee puddings. Perfect.
Clearly, two years of shopping only virtually have changed us. Who knows what’s next?
Once in a while it’s nice to write here, kind of a diary, shared with whoever wants to read it. Hello again.
Tonight I’m reading Ruth Ozeki’s The Book of Form and Emptiness. Haunting and haunted. I think it’s the first book I have read that is (partially) narrated by a book. Her earlier book was centered around a diary discovered in a Hello Kitty lunchbox, having floated across the Pacific. This book centers around people, with an omniscient book observing and commenting. Spooky.
Our holiday season has begun, and it promises new experiences alongside the traditions. It will be hard to beat the classic dinner we had at TOLHouse last night, and I plan to take Thursday off, but I’m looking forward to cooking at least one meal drawn from my favorite Palestinian cookbooks. I ordered the Ozeki book from Gathered Volumes, knowing that I want to own it and happy to bypass Amazon. When I went to Perrysburg to pick it up, Zaitoun caught my eye and has already become a favorite.
So many thoughts swirling in my head. I hope to organize them a bit by writing them down and, maybe, to bring them to conversations IRL. Join me?
I know that spring is really the season of renewal, but I’m loving the changing leaves and the blue blue sky today and feeling somewhat renewed. It’s October 1st and I love firsts. So I took myself out to lunch at the Original Sub Shop,
I drank kombucha,
I am wearing a new red dress and I had my toenails painted Maraschino Cheery.
I am looking forward to dinner at Registry Bistro.
The story is probably exaggerated, but years ago someone told me that in his last years as an elected official Bill Copeland used to drive around in his Cadillac, hoping that he would see someone who needed a ride. My version of that is staying at home assuming that someone will need something. And someone always does, duh! I’ve decided to do less of that, and I’m going to schedule daily outings just to be sure. My list includes parks, libraries, museums, and TOlHouse. Additional suggestions are welcome.
In the meantime, pandemic politics has made it into my house, interfering with the Brookside Learning Community, a lovely small group that Johanna has been nurturing for a few weeks. I enjoyed weekly cooking sessions with a handful of four to six year-olds and seeing them learn and grow together, unmasked. But concern for our kids always trumps logic, and the approaching cold weather, necessitated indoor sessions, which was not comfortable for all of the families.. I’m confident that Johanna will find a way to provide community and safety for my granddaughter, despite this blip.
Fall has also brought us back to some evening television, most recently Only Murders in the Building. So fun!!! I wonder if the running joke about generational differences appeals to younger people, too. Regardless, the story is clever and the interior design is fabulous. I knew Martin Short and Steve Martin would be great, and Selena Gomez has been a surprising delight And the cameos!!
I’m going to enjoy October, and I hope you do too.
Recently life has forced me to think about aging and death.
My son’s cat Nancy was gently guided over the rainbow bridge last week, having reached old age with owners who loved her and cared well for her.
Last night my daughter’s dog, Brodie, also aged, lame, incontinent and much-loved, had a seizure from which there was no recovery.
It’s not just the pets. My mother-in-law almost made it to her 100th birthday, but not quite. Her last few years were not pleasant, but she had the good fortune to have five children who spent time with her daily until the end, which came just a couple of weeks ago.
Real circle-of-life stuff, I guess. And a reminder to enjoy every moment and use the nice dishes.
I’ve always been a gardener, and this year’s weather, plus a lot of weeding, has produced a continuous parade of blooms, now followed by a daily harvest of tomatoes and cucumbers. We’ve eaten well and enjoyed the flowers in our favorite vases.
“Aging is an extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been.“
David Bowie
It finally feels like summer and, post-vaccination, we’re appreciating the creatures close to home without worrying where they came from or where they are going. At Loi’s pod kindergarten, seven goslings provided lots of joy during the last days of the school year before becoming farm geese nearby.
Closer to home, the ecosystem in our tiny backyard pond is changing day by day. I bought the fantails and a few mosquito fish, but the tadpoles appeared as if by magic after a few warm nights when we heard frog (or maybe toad) song through the open window. Yesterday a couple of toad visitors were a major attraction, and Solomon, a painted turtle that Loi discovered in the wild, will be introduced soon.
Not all is quite so idyllic, however; after sleeping most of the winter Claudia Cupcake has transformed into a highly efficient hunter and the mourning doves chose a particularly poor nesting place in the cherry tree. A small pile of feathers in the driveway was our only clue to the outcome.
I’m grateful for the chance to experience these moments.
I’ve been seeing and hearing so many discussions of what it will be like to go back to normal. I don’t want to go back to normal. With a nod to Joe Biden, I want to build back better. For me, that means an attitude adjustment. I once got a fortune cookie that said “you should resign as general manager of the universe.” (I’ve since learned that this is a Larry Eisenberg quote.) While I hope that I was not quite that arrogant, it is certainly true that I have felt responsible for a lot of things that were never my problem and probably none of my business.
I want to spend more time visiting parks. I want to just sit and look, not count my steps.
I want to have a beautiful garden this summer. But I don’t want to pay for it with pain. My joints demand some compromises. More easy plants and more help with weeding.
It’s not that I want to lower my standards. I just want to be easier on myself. That’s my new goal.
Join me?
Yesterday I got my second COVID vaccine shot. In two weeks I’ll feel free to socialize with small groups of others who have been vaccinated, to enjoy the occasional restaurant meal, and to return to in-person library browsing and museum-viewing. It’s overwhelming.
How are you processing what we’ve all been through this year and what we’re beginning to experience? Did you clean enough closets? I’ve de-cluttered quite a bit, but I intend to do more this week and next, while my list of other options remains limited.
We’ve watched a lot of tv during our at-home evenings together. Last night we finished the last episode of Midnight Diner: not as romantic as Highlander, not as creative as Beforeigners, but maybe the most satisfying of the countless series that have filled our pandemic time.
We’ve had a few things delivered, but I’ve continued weekly grocery shopping and I consider buying liquor an essential activity. Low-ABV has become the norm for our daily at-home cocktail hours, and I’m going to keep drinking Lillet and tonic for the foreseeable future; it’s one of my best new discoveries. Along with the word “apero.”
I’ve missed people, and if you’re reading this I hope to see you in April and beyond.
As a friend of mine recently noted, this is the season of human-sized icicles. We have two. I’m hoping that, beginning today, they melt and disappear without causing major damage. The roof at the back of our house forms a valley, and every few years the gutter there isn’t big enough to handle the volume. We’ve tried many fixes, including tossing what may have been hand warmers, wrapped in socks, into the gutters. That sort of worked. Years ago we when we were desperate to clear things out we ran a hose from the kitchen and attacked the ice with hot water. That didn’t work but resulted in a couple of inches of hot water on the kitchen floor. Many winters, John has gone onto the airing deck outside our bedroom and climbed up on the roof to shovel, usually with me holding my breath and the ladder. This year, with loose snow on top of packed ice, that has been impossible and I am grateful. Basically, I think it’s a design flaw that we have to live with.
Frustrated with plugged ears and general congestion, I’ve been taking Claritin and using a nasal decongestant. Some fogginess may have been inevitable. My mental image of what’s happening inside my head is a bit like what’s happening outside the window as the icicle feels the warmer air. I’m melting.
As the end of the pandemic is coming into sight, I’m also thinking about some things we’ve done to adapt that may be worth keeping.
I haven’t done in-person shopping for a year, but I STILL have too much stuff. I want to remember that and continue to spend my money on experiences more than stuff. But consumable stuff, especially food stuffs, is another story. I’ve cooked more than ever this year and the way I source ingredients has changed a lot.
Most weeks I make one trip to a grocery store. I’ve also beyond grateful for local small producers: We’ve been CSA members of Shared Legacy Farms for many seasons, and I look forward to masked, in-person pickups again this year. Shared Legacy introduced us to Weber Ranch (eggs, chickens, pork, sometimes beef) and Knueven Farms (milk, cheese, ice cream, and now heirloom flours which are helping me to upgrade my breads). Throughout the off-season for produce, we have relied on both, with a combination of pickup and delivery. Once a week, our Actual Coffee order arrives and it’s SO worth it.
Most days, we sit down for pre-dinner drinks, usually low AVB. A trip to Toledo Spirits and Bellwether is on the horizon, once we are well and truly vaccinated.
I’ve mentioned a few local producers that I rely on, but I’ve found other good but non-local sources too, That’s another story, and another post.
Stay warm…