Sunday, December 25, 2016

palette, hygge, bed

* The landscape's winter palette.

* hygge
   lyseslukker
   hyggekrog
   hyggelig

* The sofa is a dog bunk bed--one perches upon the back while the other claims the seat.

Saturday, December 24, 2016

Alan, book, vapor

* "I think there should be laughs in everything. Sometimes, it's a slammed door, a pie in the face or      
   just a recognition of our frailties."  Alan Rickman

* The visit to booklandia:comfortable chair, soft sunlight through lace curtains, Midnight in Broad  Daylight, reading as I walk to the door to let the dogs out. I am suddenly aware of the time when my lodger returns.

* The misty swirl of vapor escaping.

Friday, December 23, 2016

squirrels, pattern, plot

* Four squirrels scamper in the back. I realize that one of them has black fur.

* I found knitting that I stored away months ago and my fingers remember the intricate pattern of stitches.

* Realizing plot twists and anticipating the final scene, I begin to rewrite the story in my imagination.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Moon, Beckham, Treats

* "The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
     Gives the luster of mid-day to objects below..."

* overheard:
   "I'd like to kiss David Beckham....I'd like to kiss Victoria Beckham!"

* Christmas treats laid out in a small post office.

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

nerve, H, E

* Alas sciatic you do me wrong
   To twang and shiver so dramatically.
   And I have appreciated you so long
   Delighting in your efficiency (and usefulness).

   Sciatic nerve was my delight
   Sciatic nerve my aid to flight
   Sciatic nerve so long and wide
   You stretch from my bum to my tootsies.

   Hot water bottle will ease the pain
   Contort to stretch the piriformis
   Hamstrings must now be straightened
   All for my beloved sciatica.

(A tip of the hat to Henry VIII)

* Thrilled to remember the name of Hiawatha's gramma.
   (Nokomis)

* Eucalyptus........
   oil
   handcream
   branches
   roomspray
   Vick's
 

 

Series, soup, place

* At the end of series 4 I find that I have much sympathy for Regina, the antagonist. Elizabeth invites her to Ash Park to tyranize Sarah and to facilitate giving her,S,the boot. Everybody hates her, R, when she finds Sarah's long lost husband. George (the brother-in-law she, R, has secretly loved for years) marries her, R, to further his political career and  does not want to hooch-coo with her because he is in love with Sarah who is pregnant with his,G's, child. Regina ends up in a straight jacket addicted to morphine while George and Sarah blissfully stroll across the sheep meadow with the baby David in arm. Their, G and S, biggest concern being not to tromp into sheep poop.
   My troubles drift out the window.

* "Soup of the day:bourbon"

* "A living place should be a sanctuary. It has to be a place where you can reflect on your life."
   Holy Mother of the Boy with the birthday!

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

chair, tea, line

* "Is this chair being used?"
   It is obviously empty but I thought I had better ask because her imaginary friend might be
   occupying it.

* Celestial Seasonings. The only tea to serve  in a nursing home.

* The fine line between goofy and nerdy.

Monday, December 19, 2016

move, snow, lines

* Molly watches my every move as I get dressed--as I go out the door I feel her critique.

* "Igor! Troika!"

* "To hell with the lane lines! Let's just get there!"

Sunday, December 18, 2016

wait, paper, kick

* The totally delicious lovely wait in the warm house while the pale winter sun gradually melts the frost on my windshield.

* Sunday paper scattered about the room.

* The welcome peppery kick of hot chai in my throat.

dogs, dogs, dogs

* The snow is piling too fast--my snow eating dogs cannot keep up. (note to self:must get more snow eating dogs)

* I sleep in a Neanderthal cave...dogs crunching bones, dogs scratching, dogs in chase dreams...all night long.

* The brilliant ability of a dog outside the door to know exactly when I have become comfortable and warm (at last) under an quilt.  My fast dash across a frigid floor to open the outside door which lets in subzero whooshes of air. Everybody in? Everybody happy? Everybody fed? Now let us get warm again.

Saturday, December 17, 2016

hats, kites, side table

* Straw hats hung on pegs in the wall. The mercury has gone south, the snow has a crusted top and I can take down a straw hat for a whiff of last summer's sweat while dreaming of next summer's.

* I hop into the backyard snow to untwist the fish kites. They thankfully leap about in the wind.

* On the side table:knitting needles, crochet hook, sunglasses, scissors, a cup with dredges of chocolate inside, yarn=a cold winter's night.

Friday, December 16, 2016

silently, sofa, rack

* The quietly falling snow reminds me of the Christmas hymn:"How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given." And then I remember my thought on the first Christmas after producing my first child: "silently? WHAT?"

* The total relaxation of two dogs asleep on the sofa.

* I dry clothes on a rack (do not like the electric dryer) --it adds just the right amount of vapor to the dry winter air inside.

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Cut, tower, sleep

* A hair cut. "I just want it kind of organized." "?" "You know, shaped."

* A lamp shaped as the Eiffel Tower.

* How can dogs sleep all day?....And all night?

Monday, December 12, 2016

Lights, time, cough

* A string of lights that join with others to mark the perimeter of the backyard is burnt out. With each footstep I break through the crusted snow to replace the string.

* A person who acknowledges reality and calmly goes about what needs to be done in the short time left.

* My lodger quietly lives downstairs until I hear a cough and remember he is there. I am so grateful he is there in his enduring way while I walk new paths.

Sunday, December 11, 2016

cork, oranges, mitts

* Huge cork boards = plenty of room to post.

* I find luscious oranges.

* Grey mitts which keep my hands warm and fingers free.

Thursday, December 8, 2016

sizzle, supply, brush

* The semi silent sizzle of a working vaporizer.

* Lots of time in an office supply store.

* I find my father's shaving soap brush cast aside in a drawer. Memories of watching him use it and contorting my face while he contorted his. Handy face excercises.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Hawaii, special, hearts

* "The Descendents" because I am in such a Hawaii mood.

* I walk in the door and am enveloped by garlic aroma. A salad and slice special eaten in a window booth--Greek salad and mushroom and spinach pizza. The waitress leaves me alone as I watch people navigate the snow and cold.

* Red glass hearts hanging from the chandelier.

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

* A brilliant gem today...I dropped off the car at the  mechanic's at 7a. By 11a the repairs were completed and I layered on pile after pile of clothing (pajamas included) to walk the blocks for the car.  15 degrees, windchill ?. First block=fine. Second block=I do have toes, right? Should I put my thumb up? (Last time done in 1970.)  I decline the idea. A white car u-turns=oh dear, what have my wishes brought? "Would you like a ride?" A ride all the way to the mechanic's. In a heated car. What joy!

* Quietly mesmerized by wisps of blowing snow as I drive my granddaughter home in the dark.

* "Doc Martin" "Saving Grace"

world, snow, out

* "In a hyperactive world, stillness is the deepest rebellion."

* Another ER, another hard chair....I muse...What if snow came in colors? Blue one day. Red the next. Nothing that would stain. Green from the North. Or flavored. Root beer! Orange flavored....

* I am rarely out after dark so the stars are brilliant, the moon a hammock hung in the darkness. Inhalation freezes my nose hairs. Are blue strings of lights wrapped round these trees every year? Cars tucked up for the night, traffic missing. Then home to sweet fuzzy dogs with wet licorice noses.

Monday, December 5, 2016

hide, day, tip

* Frankie hides metal napkin rings in her bra.Shivers."Ee! COLD!"

* A jacketless day. Marvelous clouds of the front coming in.

* Tip: When a mammo is scheduled for the afternoon do normal things in the morning. Pick up dog poop. Shop for toilet paper. Drool at (but not on) the donuts at Whole Foods. Get chased out of said WF for photographing luscious produce without permission. Buy beer for someone who is not supposed to have any. Pause in the whisky aisle because you just saw a documentary about Islay whiskey brewing (?) and wow are you thirsty. Buy Canadian Club instead, after fainting at the Islay prices. Drive home to let slip the dogs of war. Accept Meals on Wheels with great gratitude. Write a blog.

Sunday, December 4, 2016

eyes, Sundays, breath

* "Sorry. Did I roll my eyes out loud?"

* Cartoonist Victoria Roberts in a 1987 (!) interview said she spends one Sunday per month in bed in polka dot men's pj's and declares all Sundays to be "disorganized" days in which nothing is planned, nothing tidily put away, etc. I read this while lying in bed wearing polka dot pjs on this Sunday. I sighed for the discovery of a kindred soul.

* I have been practicing coherent breathing. Yesterday I lay down on the sofa and suddenly realized I was coherently breathing without even trying.

Saturday, December 3, 2016

Choc, refusal, cream

* Five perfect chocolate covered cherries.

* "Elegance is refusal."

* Thick, I mean really thick, lavender scented body cream for scaly legs.

Friday, December 2, 2016

ride, brook, book

* After I have completed my errands there is time before 4 pm so I start on my favorite drive -- maybe for the last time this year because of the snow forecast. Up, up around the res. "Beware of falling boulders" on the left. The lower water level reveals a shoreline of summer mystery.  Over the first foothill with houses perched on either slope, past a trailhead on to a long valley. I am the only car so I can putter and travel slowly past furry horses brought down from the mountains for the winter. A continuous cycle, they fertilize the pasture in the winter and while they are galloping in the mountains in warm weather their winter food is grown. Past llamas and alpacas and rusted farm machinery and quarries. I turn at a brick schoolhouse, back to the town and medical equipment, blood sugar numbers, insulin gauges and his pain. But my ride has been refreshing and joyful!

* The brook on the way to the post office is trimmed with lacy ice.

* A book in the mail: Our Man in Charleston -- a snowy week-end's read.