ATTENTION PASSENGERS ON FLIGHT 456 TO LAS VEGAS, IF ANYONE HAS FLEXIBLE TRAVEL PLANS, WE ARE OFFERING A $300 VOUCHER AND A FLIGHT TOMORROW AFTERNOON IF YOU WILL GIVE UP YOUR SEATS TODAY. A COUPLE WOULD BE PREFERABLE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.
"Sometimes I want to sing in situations like this... do you think anyone would mind if I just started singing?" I whispered to J as we stood in front of the airline kiosk at the airport.
"I don't think they'd mind necessarily; in fact, they'd probably clap for you."
I smiled up at him and winked. We had arrived at the airport with plenty of time; despite people arriving every few minutes and running up with desperately flushed faces, to beg of the desk attendant,
"Did we miss our flight to Boston?"
"No. We haven't even boarded your flight yet. The plane is being fixed."
"But the board behind you says---"
"I have no control over the marquis behind me. All I can tell you is that you haven't missed your flight."
It didn't help matters that the board behind the desk was flashing "Boarding," for our gate... but to a different, nay rhyming city: Austin--since this was the next flight scheduled to depart from our gate: B-12..... which made me think simultaneously of vitamins and bingo....
ATTENTION PASSENGERS WAITING TO BOARD FLIGHT 123 to BOSTON: THE PLANE HAS ARRIVED, BUT HAS A PART THAT NEEDS INSTALLATION. HOPEFULLY WE'LL ONLY HAVE YOU WAITING AN HOUR AND A HALF AT THE MOST IF YOU DO NOT BOARD SOONER. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.
Another late-comer runs up to the kiosk, looking bewildered. She is an elderly woman, of about 70 and she seems disgruntled.
"How may I help you?" states the blonde flight attendant cheerfully, if ruefully asks as she sees the woman.
"We have been waiting for half an hour and you've not given us any credible information about our flight, and I demand to know what is going on," said the blue-haired lady in slightly condescending tones.
"Ma'am, I know that you've been waiting and I appreciate your patience, but you know as much as I do about what's going on. They've not fixed the plane yet, though it is here."
"Well, I don't SEE it."
"That's because it's not at the gate. Please have patience."
"But you just said it's here,"
"It IS here. Here as in, at the airport. Being FIXED. In MAINTENANCE."
"Well, I---"
"Excuse me. What do I do?" An elderly gentleman steps up to the left of the lady, gently eclipsing her at the elbow, he leans over with a worried look at the desk attendant.
"Pardon me sir? Your plane is over there at Gate B-11 and it will be boarding in approximately 15 minutes, so if you'll just have a seat---"
"But I don't know what to DO! What do you mean boarding? How do I get on the plane?"
"Sir, do you see that small podium by the doors with the big numbers B-11 overhead?"
"Yes."
"Well, when you hear the announcement that your flight is boarding, you'll walk over to that podium, the attendant will take your ticket, and you'll get on the plane."
"But that's just a doorway."
"Right. We call it a gate. You'll walk through the gate doors down the ramp which leads to the plane door and then you'll take your seat, ok?"
"Oh. All right. Thank you. I'm just worried I guess. I'm 88 and I've never flown anywhere."
"I'm sure you'll do just fine sir, won't you have a ---"
"EXCUSE ME but I STILL don't see why we haven't boarded yet. We've been waiting here for---" the blue-haired lady would have no more of this being upstaged by an old codger who didn't know where he was.
"MA'AM, I have already explained that I have nothing more to tell you. You'll simply have to wait. Please have a seat and as soon as I know something, I'll inform you with an announcement," the blonde attendant finished resignedly. She looked exhausted.
I admired her patience in dealing with the cranky customers and the line of people waiting to fly to Boston and Austin who kept running up every few minutes to re-read the faulty marquis and ask AGAIN if they had missed their flight, as well as the late-new-comers who were also asking that question.
ATTENTION AGAIN, PASSENGERS WAITING TO BOARD FLIGHT 456 TO VEGAS, PLEASE, IF YOU HAVE FLEXIBLE HOLIDAY TRAVEL PLANS, WE NEED TWO SEATS TO BE GIVEN UP FOR TODAY'S FLIGHT. WE CAN GET YOU OUT TOMORROW AFTERNOON ON A DIFFERENT FLIGHT, AND WE'RE OFFERING A $500 VOUCHER. THANK YOU.
Meanwhile, two children, toddlers, had begun exploring the holiday decorations at our gate.
There was a gingerbread house which was fairly large, like a big doghouse. It had a crayon drawing of a gingerbread man in the tiny cut-out doorway, and real glass panes in the windows. It was edged in what must've been pom-poms, but now were only small tufts of fur randomly stuck to hardened crusty pools of dried hot glue.
The blond attendant explained that kids had been trying to eat the pom-poms, so she'd pulled all of them off.
Soon, the two kids discovered that if they shoved the gingerbread man aside, they could squeeze through the cut-out door.
The small boy in particular, kept crawling inside the house despite his mother's half-serious protests.
A couple next to us watching this parade of in-and-out-and-in-again discovered that the top of the house could be lifted-- so were the child to refuse to exit, the roof would be raised and his mother could scoop him out.
Soon, a few other kiddos discovered that there was a nifty new hiding place and a parade to get inside the house began.
The blond attendant, who'd been distracted by a phone call while this was going on, suddenly realized that the decorations were being played with.
"PLEASE DO NOT PLAY IN THE PLAYHOUSE! It's for DECORATION ONLY!" She then proceeded to give the small boy's mother a lecture about losing fingers, splinters and safety.
Two dads came to the rescue and evacuated all the kiddos... the little boy kept trying to wriggle from his mother's grasp to return to the gingerbread house.
He was greatly disappointed when she denied him the chance.
------------------------------------------------------
We were eventually allowed to board our plane at 12:45 PM (it had been scheduled to leave at 10:30 AM).
We made it through the de-icing station to the runway; only to discover that we could not take off because our engines would not fire. So, we were towed back to our gate.
Then our pilot spoke with the mechanic, who suggested he shift into neutral and rev the engines... which he did. It was so cold out, that they wouldn't start right up.
Then we went back to be de-iced, and eventually we took off at 1:45 or so.
YAAAAY CHRISTMAS TRAVEL PLANS!!!
--------------------
So, I last wrote on November 13th, 2012 and since then many things have happened:
1) A LOVELY Thanksgiving with my Mum, J, his brother and girlfriend and myself.
2) Second Thanksgiving at J's step-mom's house.
3) Mad rehearsing for our upcoming Bach concert.
4) A horrible flu that landed me in the ER.
5) A miraculous recovery in time to fly to my folks' home for Christmas.
6) A FABULOUS Christmas dinner, for which I made from scratch (all organic, gluten-free, corn and canola free and mostly vegan with butter being the only non-vegan ingredient in a few things because we ran out of coconut oil):
2 green bean casseroles
2 pumpkin pies
1 chocolate cream pie
1 huge bowl of mashed potatoes
1 huge amount of cranberry sauce
1 extra-large pan of stuffing
1 huge pan of candied yams
1 large sauce pan of vegan gravy
1 enormous batch of chocolate molasses caramels
1 enormous batch of chocolate chip cookies (some with pecans, some without)
1 big bowl of vegan whipped cream (coconut cream, vanilla, cinnamon and maple syrup)
7) A lovely low key New Year's Eve last night, which consisted of dinner, prosecco and reading Terry Pratchet's "Snuff," aloud while snuggling with our giant dats.
Don't forget to light your bayberry candles, eat your black-eyed peas and to run to the back door and kick the old year out, then race to the front door to welcome the new year in!
Cheers!
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
OOooookay, so I lied.
I have decided that writing under deadlines and pressure bothers me.
I like to take my time with my characters and write and edit at my own pace; sometimes I work all night, sometimes I work a couple hours, sometimes I read what I've written and mull it over in my mind.
SO, I have decided that NaNoWriMo is not for me.
I had some fun with my beginning idea, and I may go back and add to the the 20 or so pages I've been working on, but frankly... for me it's about quality not quantity.
There is something about being required to post daily word counts and the graph of measurement that NaNoWriMo uses to track "progress," that bothers me.
I spoke to an incredible author about my feelings concerning this irritation and he agreed with me.
Yes my friends. T.A. Barron thought that I should simply allow my fingers to follow my heart.
So, poems I can flit about and write quickly on command; long ones even.
Novels and books? No.
I may work more on the NaNoWriMo piece I started. I like the idea. It's fun.
However, I am not going to feel guilty and coerced into putting crapola on the page just so I can update a meaningless "word count," and "win," at the end of the month because I met a goal set by someone else.
Don't get me wrong, I have a SUPER AWESOME FRIEND who participated in NaNoWriMo last year, and she's doing it again this year and loving it.
To Leauxra, I say: BRAVO my dear! YOU ROCK MY SOCKS and I hope to read your November novel.
For me though, I feel pressure, and so if I finish according to their timeline: Great. If not, well, that's great too.
So now I leave you with a poem that I wrote and posted on Soul Pancake about an amazing picture prompt (that you can see here from this SoulPancaker's Blog:)
If I could bottle comfort, I'd give it to you so that when I am gone, you'd have it.
I like to take my time with my characters and write and edit at my own pace; sometimes I work all night, sometimes I work a couple hours, sometimes I read what I've written and mull it over in my mind.
SO, I have decided that NaNoWriMo is not for me.
I had some fun with my beginning idea, and I may go back and add to the the 20 or so pages I've been working on, but frankly... for me it's about quality not quantity.
There is something about being required to post daily word counts and the graph of measurement that NaNoWriMo uses to track "progress," that bothers me.
I spoke to an incredible author about my feelings concerning this irritation and he agreed with me.
Yes my friends. T.A. Barron thought that I should simply allow my fingers to follow my heart.
So, poems I can flit about and write quickly on command; long ones even.
Novels and books? No.
I may work more on the NaNoWriMo piece I started. I like the idea. It's fun.
However, I am not going to feel guilty and coerced into putting crapola on the page just so I can update a meaningless "word count," and "win," at the end of the month because I met a goal set by someone else.
Don't get me wrong, I have a SUPER AWESOME FRIEND who participated in NaNoWriMo last year, and she's doing it again this year and loving it.
To Leauxra, I say: BRAVO my dear! YOU ROCK MY SOCKS and I hope to read your November novel.
For me though, I feel pressure, and so if I finish according to their timeline: Great. If not, well, that's great too.
So now I leave you with a poem that I wrote and posted on Soul Pancake about an amazing picture prompt (that you can see here from this SoulPancaker's Blog:)
If I could bottle comfort, I'd give it to you so that when I am gone, you'd have it.
If I could put my voice in too, I would, so when I am gone, you'd hear it.
For you my Dear, I'd trap the smells of pumpkin pie, and sunshine on dirt, and salt water on skin, and clean baby hair and fresh strawberries; all in the bottle for you to breathe in when you wish.
I'd trap the feel of warm sweet kisses and tight full hugs, and the taste of toffee melting on your tongue.
I'd coax in to that bottle the tingling of a warm moonlit breeze across your bare skin; that would go in.
I'd slip in words and whisper "I love you," so that every time you tilted the glass, my heart would make the edges glint and glisten emotion within.
I'd put all my comforts in the bottle for you; this I would do.
HAPPY NOVEMBER!!!
Oh, and I had an awesome birthday. WOOT!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Today Something Begins...
I am going to try something exciting and new.
I am going to attempt to participate in National Write A Novel Month (a.k.a. NaNoWriMo).
This means that I will cease editing my other two not-quite-finished books, and begin writing a new one--- just for this month of November.
It's going to be my birthday present to myself as my birthday lies exactly a week from Halloween.
Today is the FIRST day.
This November Novella is going to be a fairy-tale: DOUBLE the FUN!
As I said before, my fantastical adventure story (book one) and my basic food novel (book two) will both be on hold for this month... unless I get really stuck and need to work on another project to rejuvenate myself... which is why I began the second book in the first place... that, and food pornography (for lack of a better term) is REALLY fun to write...
Additionally, I am going to attempt the incredible for me: As I finish each chapter of the November Novella, I'm going to post it here.
For people to read. People such as yourself. ;-)
That's right... I'm going to display things IN THE WORKS here on MWMWL as I go.
Mind you, they'll be edited chapters. This will be in addition to my morning walk musings; quite the endeavor!
However, I'm going to attempt to document myself with updates here as well as on the word count NaNoWriMo site-- baring my soul for anyone who cares to see.
YAAAY!
Let's hope that all this is possible.
This weekend I have a musical performance at a well known hotel and I'll be gone Friday through Sunday afternoon.
Two days later my birthday happens.
A day later, my mum arrives for a visit.
A few days after that I head to OK for a wedding shower.
Then it's Thanksgiving.
Then the month is OVER and the novel MUST BE FINISHED!
Now, perhaps you are wondering: Why a fairy-tale?
Well, because they're such delightful fun.
Villains are really delicious characters to write; besides, I'm tired of all the rescuing being done by romantic interests in the story... it's time to re-establish the kind of character who has their own passion and adventure in their own tale.
Plus, it's funnier if characters are more independent versus codependent.
Besides, funny things happen with stories that begin with, "Once upon a time..." and it's going to be quite an experience to take control of such a classic genre for myself.
Also, I want to invite you all to feel free to provide feedback and/or constructive criticism via the comments here as the November Novel progresses along.
Happy NOVEMBER!
:-D
I am going to attempt to participate in National Write A Novel Month (a.k.a. NaNoWriMo).
This means that I will cease editing my other two not-quite-finished books, and begin writing a new one--- just for this month of November.
It's going to be my birthday present to myself as my birthday lies exactly a week from Halloween.
Today is the FIRST day.
This November Novella is going to be a fairy-tale: DOUBLE the FUN!
As I said before, my fantastical adventure story (book one) and my basic food novel (book two) will both be on hold for this month... unless I get really stuck and need to work on another project to rejuvenate myself... which is why I began the second book in the first place... that, and food pornography (for lack of a better term) is REALLY fun to write...
Additionally, I am going to attempt the incredible for me: As I finish each chapter of the November Novella, I'm going to post it here.
For people to read. People such as yourself. ;-)
That's right... I'm going to display things IN THE WORKS here on MWMWL as I go.
Mind you, they'll be edited chapters. This will be in addition to my morning walk musings; quite the endeavor!
However, I'm going to attempt to document myself with updates here as well as on the word count NaNoWriMo site-- baring my soul for anyone who cares to see.
YAAAY!
Let's hope that all this is possible.
This weekend I have a musical performance at a well known hotel and I'll be gone Friday through Sunday afternoon.
Two days later my birthday happens.
A day later, my mum arrives for a visit.
A few days after that I head to OK for a wedding shower.
Then it's Thanksgiving.
Then the month is OVER and the novel MUST BE FINISHED!
Now, perhaps you are wondering: Why a fairy-tale?
Well, because they're such delightful fun.
Villains are really delicious characters to write; besides, I'm tired of all the rescuing being done by romantic interests in the story... it's time to re-establish the kind of character who has their own passion and adventure in their own tale.
Plus, it's funnier if characters are more independent versus codependent.
Besides, funny things happen with stories that begin with, "Once upon a time..." and it's going to be quite an experience to take control of such a classic genre for myself.
Also, I want to invite you all to feel free to provide feedback and/or constructive criticism via the comments here as the November Novel progresses along.
Wish me luck, because this feels as if it's a HUGE DEAL!
Happy NOVEMBER!
:-D
Sunday, October 28, 2012
THREE: Halloween
Orange and Black.
Candy corn.
Popcorn balls.
Chocolate coins.
Fun sized sweets.
The smell of rubber, duct tape, plastic and sugar.
Adults smelling of perfume and sweat beneath heavy costumes.
Things that flash and glow.
Pumpkin shaped everything.
Cheesy music.
Skeletons, black cats, witches, ghosts and monsters.
The smell of rubber, duct tape, plastic and sugar.
Adults smelling of perfume and sweat beneath heavy costumes.
Things that flash and glow.
Pumpkin shaped everything.
Cheesy music.
Skeletons, black cats, witches, ghosts and monsters.
The excitement and smell of crisp air, musty leaves and lobotomized pumpkins.
The way you feel when you put on the make-up, mask, hood or hat that transforms you into... someTHING or someONE else.
The mystery and fun of ghouls, goblins, witches, cutesies, scaries and unidentifiable children and adults in costumes roaming the streets.
When I was a kid, Halloween was my FAVORITE holiday. It's the day and night where the whole world plays pretend and has to activate imagination.
The world seemed magical on Halloween: the past could come alive, ghosts could walk the earth and come back, midnight truly was the witching hour on this day more than any other.
It was exactly a week before my birthday, so it was sort of.... the beginning of fun in fall.
As an adult, I dress up and decorate and still LOVE Halloween, but the disappointment that occasionally happened as a kid feels magnified when I go through the effort of Halloweening the house and no trick-or-treaters come to my door.
When I was a kid, I can remember a few Halloweens where I had costume disasters, adventures cancelled due to weather conditions, and plain' ole differences in celebration.
Vermont kids don't really trick or treat unless they live 'in-town,' because you'd need a car to get from one house to the other, and it's REALLY, REALLY cold in October, so you have to wear a coat over your costume; which is no fun at all.
Also, nothing is worse than people not knowing what your costume is.
"What are you supposed to be Sweetie?"
"I'm a zombie football player from Beetlejuice. Duh."
"Oh... well, that's nice."
Or the year that I was Ariel from The Little Mermaid.... and I couldn't walk in my costume --- UGH.
A few years ago I dressed up as Rogue from The X-Men for a Halloween party. I had no posse of Wolverine, Storm, etc.
No one knew who I was.
Sigh.....
The year before last, I bought lots of candy, decorated the house and gate, dressed up and waited patiently by the door, exited for it to ring and to see all the kiddies dressed up and looking cute.
No one came.
Not a single kiddo.
We called J's (and soon to be my) nieces and nephews over and gave them practically a bag of candy each. J juggled for them and they had to pick what they wanted out of his pattern in the air.
Last year, J and I dressed up as Waldo and Wanda (we looked GOOD) and waited again with candy. Again, no kids showed.
I learned that people here take their kids to the MALL to gather candy.
Let me just say that I COMPLETELY DISAGREE with that practice.
Part of the fun of Halloween is visiting your neighborhood and then driving to family's houses to continue the candy collecting (or in some cases-- VERMONT--- driving into town to walk the main neighborhood streets).
You meet your school friends and your neighbors. You sing-song "TRiCK or TrEat!" at each doorbell knock or ring. You see that elderly neighbor who demands that you perform a dance, poem or talent to receive your sweet. You get EXERCISE and EARN your candy so that when you get home you're tired.
THAT is part of Halloween.
Not wandering around a climate controlled mall where you just grab candy and stare at people.
Also, about the whole x-ray the candy thing....
Sheesh, if you're going to houses of folks you know (a.k.a. your neighbors, friends and family) then you shouldn't have to throw away the homemade candy apples, popcorn-balls or seven-layer bars because there's no danger.
Also, last I knew, most kids go out with an older relative or an adult--- SAFETY.
I think that it's outside the neighborhood say, at a mall.... *ahem* where it would be MUCH easier for a stranger to contaminate candy.
Anyway, ranting aside, I still love Halloween and I'm still dressing up this year.
Even if NO ONE comes to my door I will have candy ready, because that's the spirit of excitement.
The history of Halloween may be about the dead walking the earth, but until I'm a ghost I can provide candy.
If no one shows up, I'll just read Edgar Allen Poe aloud and watch a cutesy spooky (not horror) movie-- like Hocus Pocus, The Boogie Man or The Nightmare Before Christmas.
Then I'll read some more poetry and tell a ghost story or two.
Oh, and when J and I have kids, they won't be going to the mall.
They'll be hiking around to family and friends earning their sugar old-school-style.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!
The mystery and fun of ghouls, goblins, witches, cutesies, scaries and unidentifiable children and adults in costumes roaming the streets.
When I was a kid, Halloween was my FAVORITE holiday. It's the day and night where the whole world plays pretend and has to activate imagination.
The world seemed magical on Halloween: the past could come alive, ghosts could walk the earth and come back, midnight truly was the witching hour on this day more than any other.
It was exactly a week before my birthday, so it was sort of.... the beginning of fun in fall.
As an adult, I dress up and decorate and still LOVE Halloween, but the disappointment that occasionally happened as a kid feels magnified when I go through the effort of Halloweening the house and no trick-or-treaters come to my door.
When I was a kid, I can remember a few Halloweens where I had costume disasters, adventures cancelled due to weather conditions, and plain' ole differences in celebration.
Vermont kids don't really trick or treat unless they live 'in-town,' because you'd need a car to get from one house to the other, and it's REALLY, REALLY cold in October, so you have to wear a coat over your costume; which is no fun at all.
Also, nothing is worse than people not knowing what your costume is.
"What are you supposed to be Sweetie?"
"I'm a zombie football player from Beetlejuice. Duh."
"Oh... well, that's nice."
Or the year that I was Ariel from The Little Mermaid.... and I couldn't walk in my costume --- UGH.
A few years ago I dressed up as Rogue from The X-Men for a Halloween party. I had no posse of Wolverine, Storm, etc.
No one knew who I was.
Sigh.....
The year before last, I bought lots of candy, decorated the house and gate, dressed up and waited patiently by the door, exited for it to ring and to see all the kiddies dressed up and looking cute.
No one came.
Not a single kiddo.
We called J's (and soon to be my) nieces and nephews over and gave them practically a bag of candy each. J juggled for them and they had to pick what they wanted out of his pattern in the air.
Last year, J and I dressed up as Waldo and Wanda (we looked GOOD) and waited again with candy. Again, no kids showed.
I learned that people here take their kids to the MALL to gather candy.
Let me just say that I COMPLETELY DISAGREE with that practice.
Part of the fun of Halloween is visiting your neighborhood and then driving to family's houses to continue the candy collecting (or in some cases-- VERMONT--- driving into town to walk the main neighborhood streets).
You meet your school friends and your neighbors. You sing-song "TRiCK or TrEat!" at each doorbell knock or ring. You see that elderly neighbor who demands that you perform a dance, poem or talent to receive your sweet. You get EXERCISE and EARN your candy so that when you get home you're tired.
THAT is part of Halloween.
Not wandering around a climate controlled mall where you just grab candy and stare at people.
Also, about the whole x-ray the candy thing....
Sheesh, if you're going to houses of folks you know (a.k.a. your neighbors, friends and family) then you shouldn't have to throw away the homemade candy apples, popcorn-balls or seven-layer bars because there's no danger.
Also, last I knew, most kids go out with an older relative or an adult--- SAFETY.
I think that it's outside the neighborhood say, at a mall.... *ahem* where it would be MUCH easier for a stranger to contaminate candy.
Anyway, ranting aside, I still love Halloween and I'm still dressing up this year.
Even if NO ONE comes to my door I will have candy ready, because that's the spirit of excitement.
The history of Halloween may be about the dead walking the earth, but until I'm a ghost I can provide candy.
If no one shows up, I'll just read Edgar Allen Poe aloud and watch a cutesy spooky (not horror) movie-- like Hocus Pocus, The Boogie Man or The Nightmare Before Christmas.
Then I'll read some more poetry and tell a ghost story or two.
Oh, and when J and I have kids, they won't be going to the mall.
They'll be hiking around to family and friends earning their sugar old-school-style.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!
TWO: Love
TWO:
It snowed Thursday and Friday last week.
The days were delightfully gray and cold; wet and sloppy and most definitely weather for jackets, hats and scarves.
Thursday morning I attended a memorial service for J's father, who passed away three years ago this Halloween.
I was honored to be included and reminded of how short life truly is... at any moment it could be taken away.
I am of the opinion that this does not mean that one should live in fear of death or heart failure or freak bus accidents, but rather that you should tell the ones you love that they matter immensely every chance you get.
I make a practice of telling my friends that I love and care about them too.
---------------
The snow coated everything in the hush of heavy white; the muddy drive leading into the cemetery was a dull brownish gray; mixing to a tan where the snow had melted and then covered again.
We were the last car to arrive.
Everyone was standing around the plaque of the gravesite. Sitting in a line of green wood and canvas chairs in front of the astro-turf pedestal upon which a folded up American flag, a small leather book and a reddish metal canister were displayed.
A basket full of paper cups, lids and a thermos coffee pot was propped on a chair in the second row.
We walked up to the group; steaming cups in their hands from which wafted the smell of artificial hazelnut or caramel coffee.
Each person standing had a somewhat different look on their face: awkward, complacent, antsy, relaxed, cold, staid but cheerful, smiling simply and still.
Music was blaring muzzily out of J's step-mom's (B's) pocket: her phone set to Pandora mobile I suppose.... she began speaking.
"Thank you all for coming. It's been three years and it's finally time..." she stated somewhat cheerfully, but warmly.
Her pocket renewed it's loud blaring and then switched to some sort of commercial.
"I'm not sure if you all know this, but T prayed each and every morning. He prayed for you kids..."
-------'Are you prepared for...' some actor's voice interrupted her, blabbing on scratchily about life-insurance... she continued on.
"So I would like to read from my list of..."
-----------'Be prepared today!' the commercial ended with buzzing chimes which faded into a Christian Rock song...
I noticed that at one end of the circle, G, E, H and J had begun to link arms; H grinning at me sweetly across the circle. I shuffled closer to L and linked her arm; she slipped hers into C's. Halfway through the speech, he linked his into J's.
Suddenly, the gathering was put on the spot.
"Now, let's everybody say something nice you remember about T," B commanded.
Little by little, each member began to speak... at some point, E stepped over and grabbed B's blaring cell-phone and shut it off.
"I remember how we'd be in the car with him, and he was really a quiet guy otherwise, but when we were driving and someone almost had and accident or made a mistake or whatever, he would yell 'CRASH!' really loudly and it always scared me and made me giggle at the same time..."
"He never did that with us in the car," J began, "but I remember when I totaled the truck---"
"Yes, are there any of his kids here who didn't wreck one of his cars?"
"He was always calm and caring about it. He cared more about people being safe than the vehicle---"
"Yes, he would say, 'Cars can be replaced; people can't."
"He paid for my school in New York--"
"Yeah! He was always supportive. For example, when I wanted to go live in Paris, he was all for it. He was the parent whom you went to when you wanted the other parent to agree with you.."
"I only met him once, but my first impression of him was the same as what you all call him all the time--- teddybear. Tall and round and bearded and warm." I said.
Everyone rambled on for a while remembering T.
Apples and peanut butter.
Orange slices.
The Beatles.
Working on electronics and computer parts with him.
Building bookshelves.
Cinnamon coffee.
Church.
E-mails about selling cookies.
Being supportive.
Some slight disagreements flowed briefly in and out of the conversation. A suggestion to sing was accepted and then refused. Finally the remembrance was over-- I brought my end of the arm links around and linked with J's step-mom so we could have a circle hug.
We all trudged back to our cars.
"H and J, do you have class?" B asked.
"Yeah, but I'm thinking I'll skip it today," J responded.
"Mine's not until later," H said.
"Let's all go to breakfast at the diner," I said.
"Great!" beamed B.
We piled into our cars and headed out; J and I stopping for H to leave her car at our house so we could carpool to the diner-- which had less than desirable parking options.
------
That morning we remembered, we ate, we laughed, we reminisced and caught up. A family with sets of blood relations and mostly step or half relations, but all one family.
People who had come together to remember a man who touched their lives.
A man who loved greatly and was loved by many.
He is missed, and he will be missed forever.
So, take the time and tell the people you love about the way they've touched you.
There's no time like the present.
It snowed Thursday and Friday last week.
The days were delightfully gray and cold; wet and sloppy and most definitely weather for jackets, hats and scarves.
Thursday morning I attended a memorial service for J's father, who passed away three years ago this Halloween.
I was honored to be included and reminded of how short life truly is... at any moment it could be taken away.
I am of the opinion that this does not mean that one should live in fear of death or heart failure or freak bus accidents, but rather that you should tell the ones you love that they matter immensely every chance you get.
I make a practice of telling my friends that I love and care about them too.
---------------
The snow coated everything in the hush of heavy white; the muddy drive leading into the cemetery was a dull brownish gray; mixing to a tan where the snow had melted and then covered again.
We were the last car to arrive.
Everyone was standing around the plaque of the gravesite. Sitting in a line of green wood and canvas chairs in front of the astro-turf pedestal upon which a folded up American flag, a small leather book and a reddish metal canister were displayed.
A basket full of paper cups, lids and a thermos coffee pot was propped on a chair in the second row.
We walked up to the group; steaming cups in their hands from which wafted the smell of artificial hazelnut or caramel coffee.
Each person standing had a somewhat different look on their face: awkward, complacent, antsy, relaxed, cold, staid but cheerful, smiling simply and still.
Music was blaring muzzily out of J's step-mom's (B's) pocket: her phone set to Pandora mobile I suppose.... she began speaking.
"Thank you all for coming. It's been three years and it's finally time..." she stated somewhat cheerfully, but warmly.
Her pocket renewed it's loud blaring and then switched to some sort of commercial.
"I'm not sure if you all know this, but T prayed each and every morning. He prayed for you kids..."
-------'Are you prepared for...' some actor's voice interrupted her, blabbing on scratchily about life-insurance... she continued on.
"So I would like to read from my list of..."
-----------'Be prepared today!' the commercial ended with buzzing chimes which faded into a Christian Rock song...
I noticed that at one end of the circle, G, E, H and J had begun to link arms; H grinning at me sweetly across the circle. I shuffled closer to L and linked her arm; she slipped hers into C's. Halfway through the speech, he linked his into J's.
Suddenly, the gathering was put on the spot.
"Now, let's everybody say something nice you remember about T," B commanded.
Little by little, each member began to speak... at some point, E stepped over and grabbed B's blaring cell-phone and shut it off.
"I remember how we'd be in the car with him, and he was really a quiet guy otherwise, but when we were driving and someone almost had and accident or made a mistake or whatever, he would yell 'CRASH!' really loudly and it always scared me and made me giggle at the same time..."
"He never did that with us in the car," J began, "but I remember when I totaled the truck---"
"Yes, are there any of his kids here who didn't wreck one of his cars?"
"He was always calm and caring about it. He cared more about people being safe than the vehicle---"
"Yes, he would say, 'Cars can be replaced; people can't."
"He paid for my school in New York--"
"Yeah! He was always supportive. For example, when I wanted to go live in Paris, he was all for it. He was the parent whom you went to when you wanted the other parent to agree with you.."
"I only met him once, but my first impression of him was the same as what you all call him all the time--- teddybear. Tall and round and bearded and warm." I said.
Everyone rambled on for a while remembering T.
Apples and peanut butter.
Orange slices.
The Beatles.
Working on electronics and computer parts with him.
Building bookshelves.
Cinnamon coffee.
Church.
E-mails about selling cookies.
Being supportive.
Some slight disagreements flowed briefly in and out of the conversation. A suggestion to sing was accepted and then refused. Finally the remembrance was over-- I brought my end of the arm links around and linked with J's step-mom so we could have a circle hug.
We all trudged back to our cars.
"H and J, do you have class?" B asked.
"Yeah, but I'm thinking I'll skip it today," J responded.
"Mine's not until later," H said.
"Let's all go to breakfast at the diner," I said.
"Great!" beamed B.
We piled into our cars and headed out; J and I stopping for H to leave her car at our house so we could carpool to the diner-- which had less than desirable parking options.
------
That morning we remembered, we ate, we laughed, we reminisced and caught up. A family with sets of blood relations and mostly step or half relations, but all one family.
People who had come together to remember a man who touched their lives.
A man who loved greatly and was loved by many.
He is missed, and he will be missed forever.
So, take the time and tell the people you love about the way they've touched you.
There's no time like the present.
ONE: Today is a Triplentry Day.... Yes, I just made up that word. ;-)
ONE:
The air was crisp and pink this morning as I stepped outside. Sidewalks were littered with tiny gold-yellow leaves; like a frozen runner along the cement.
Through the haze of the sunrise, I could make out the shadowy and darkened outlines of the trees; backlit against the pastel-coral colored sky.
Breathing in it smelled like... fresh pumpkins.
Indeed, with my eyes closed, I could've sworn that the earthy, sweet, dusty and clean aroma was emanating from jack-o-lanterns that lined every doorstep in my imagination.
Then a small gust of wind blew my hair from my face and pricked my cheeks.
Fall will soon be over, and the snows shall return.
I decided to call my mum on this walk because she and Dad had just returned from a trip overseas.
We talked pleasantly about museums, cousins, opera, old friends, food, wine and music.
I was reminded how lucky I am to have such parents and people in my life.
My mum also reminded me to vote: which I've already done (mail-in ballot) but not put in the post.
So: Go for walks, revel in delightful people and VOTE!
-----------------
Triplentry (Yes, Triple + Entry = Triplentry) Prologues:
TWO:
It snowed Thursday and Friday last week.
The days were delightfully gray and cold; wet and sloppy and most definitely weather for jackets, hats and scarves.
Thursday morning I attended a memorial service for J's father, who passed away three years ago this Halloween.
I was honored to be included and reminded of how short life truly is... at any moment it could be taken away.
I am of the opinion that this does not mean that one should live in fear of death or heart failure or freak bus accidents; but rather that you should tell the ones you love every chance you get, that they matter immensely.
-------------------------
THREE:
How do YOU celebrate Halloween, and what does it mean to you?
The air was crisp and pink this morning as I stepped outside. Sidewalks were littered with tiny gold-yellow leaves; like a frozen runner along the cement.
Through the haze of the sunrise, I could make out the shadowy and darkened outlines of the trees; backlit against the pastel-coral colored sky.
Breathing in it smelled like... fresh pumpkins.
Indeed, with my eyes closed, I could've sworn that the earthy, sweet, dusty and clean aroma was emanating from jack-o-lanterns that lined every doorstep in my imagination.
Then a small gust of wind blew my hair from my face and pricked my cheeks.
Fall will soon be over, and the snows shall return.
I decided to call my mum on this walk because she and Dad had just returned from a trip overseas.
We talked pleasantly about museums, cousins, opera, old friends, food, wine and music.
I was reminded how lucky I am to have such parents and people in my life.
My mum also reminded me to vote: which I've already done (mail-in ballot) but not put in the post.
So: Go for walks, revel in delightful people and VOTE!
-----------------
Triplentry (Yes, Triple + Entry = Triplentry) Prologues:
TWO:
It snowed Thursday and Friday last week.
The days were delightfully gray and cold; wet and sloppy and most definitely weather for jackets, hats and scarves.
Thursday morning I attended a memorial service for J's father, who passed away three years ago this Halloween.
I was honored to be included and reminded of how short life truly is... at any moment it could be taken away.
I am of the opinion that this does not mean that one should live in fear of death or heart failure or freak bus accidents; but rather that you should tell the ones you love every chance you get, that they matter immensely.
-------------------------
THREE:
How do YOU celebrate Halloween, and what does it mean to you?
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Spreading the Love with Food...
Sccccrrraaaaaape... scratch, scratch, PLOP! ScrrrrrAAAAAPE-scrape-scrape, PLOP!
Her eyes popped open wide. She instantly held her breath as she tried to identify the noise that had woken her.
Straining, she could hear the faint sounds of wood scraping against metal... the barely-there ring in the air... singing in her ears.
The room was purpley-black, the sheets smelling delicately of downy.
Slowly and carefully the girl twisted and slid her feet from the warm, silky-soft cotton sheets and toward the thickly carpeted floor.
Olive green shag carpet, to be exact.
Emma's little back arched, reaching down the side of the bed. When her toes found the fuzzy warmth, she grabbed gropingly for her red plastic frames on the bedside table.
Glasses on her nose, she tip-toed to the doorway and leaned against the frame. Her knobby, freckled knees peeked out from the oversized t-shirt she slept in; a large, gray, much worn and washed affair stolen from an older male cousin or brother.
Pressing her side into the doorway, she hugged the frame tightly, willing herself not to be afraid. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the wood, tracing the grooves absent-mindedly with a thumb.
Why are old houses so creepy at night? She whispered silently to her eleven year old self. It doesn't help that I've had the monster dream again, where my family all turn into werewolves, vampires and ghouls... she swallowed.
The hallway was deep and murky; paneled in dark walnut it made a sharp contrast to the light blue pastel walls of the bedroom she was in.
Squeezing her eyes shut as the scary scraping sound began again, she quickly counted to eleven in her head (one year for each in her age). Her breath tight in her chest, she exhaled silently and slowly, feeling goosebumps trickle down her arms and legs, her hair standing on end and sending her into a shiver.
Heart thudding her pulse against her throat, she peered right, then left.
Her bedroom was the front room, on the left side of the corner of the hallway. She could see that the middle bedroom door on the right, part way down the hall, was open; her grandmother must be awake too.
Looking further down, she could see the blackness of the back bedroom, its door slightly ajar.
She stepped out into the hall and spun around, pinning her shoulders against the wall and freezing motionless for a moment. When nothing grabbed her, she began inching toward the dark of bathroom doorway.
There was a light on in the kitchen; the glow was leaking out into the hall.
Her hair had flopped thickly into her eyes. She roughly shoved the curls away so she could see, then padded silently toward the kitchen door, hugging the opposite wall with her back just in case something decided to jump out at her.
Then, the scraping stopped completely.
She was perhaps a foot from the door, splayed tightly against the wall.
Suddenly, a round figure burst through the swinging dutch doors of the kitchen, blocking the glow.
"What in the world are you doin' out here pressed against the wall Kid?" Her grandmother asked her sternly, frowning down at the child over her apron.
The woman wasn't tall, just under five feet, with ample curves above and below her tiny waist. Her bunny-slipper covered feet were spread shoulder-width apart; a linebacker couldn't have knocked her off balance.
She had one hand propped on her hip, and the other waggling a wooden spoon covered in cookie dough at the girl's nose. Her curly silver hair was coiffed perfectly; framing her ruddy cheeks and head like an electric halo.
"Well, I heard a noise and---"
"Fair enough. You wanna' help? Lordy! You 'bout scared the bejeezus outta' me like that. I oughta' make you warsh' dishes, you little TURKEY!" she finished with emphasis, grabbing Emma by the back of her t-shirt and hustling her into the kitchen.
The yellow, orange, white and green plaid linoleum gleamed brightly in the stove light. The shades were drawn, but the first light of sunrise was shining pinkly through their translucent cotton eyelets. The cream coloured walls with 50's style stripes and daisies began to lighten as the sun came up.
"Wash your hands and bring that stool over t'me," the old woman bellowed, tossing the spoon back into an enormous metal bowl and scraping the dough into a large ball in the middle.
Well, that explains the scary sound, thought Emma as she smiled to herself.
Cookie pans were greased and ready on top of the gas stove, as she brought the stool to the counter beside her grandmother.
Winking and staring sternly down into her granddaughter's brown eyes, magnified by their red frames, she thrust two teaspoons in to her little hands.
"Scoop 'em and ball 'em and put 'em not more nor less'n 2 inches apart on those sheets, y'hear?"
"Yes Ma'am," came the proud reply.
Leave it to her grandmother to make cookies at 4:30 AM the morning of Halloween.
---------------------------------
I love food. I also love cooking.
I have been known to bake things "simply because," and lately my culinary creations have revolved around chocolate.
I bake every week for my choir companions (we rehearse fairly late in the evening) so this week it was double chocolate pecan cake and petit fours.
Fairly easy.
First take your favorite chocolate cake recipe (mine is gluten-free, vegan and has a bit of pumpkin and coconut oil in it) and add chocolate chunks/chips and pecans. Bake per usual.
Easy, huh? :-D
The petit fours I made were mocha cake with cinnamon coconut cream as the filling, and covered in dark chocolate-- again, all gf and v.
Having never made petit fours before, I owe my success to a petit-four pan-- I didn't have to fuss with baking sheet cake, freezing it and then carving or cutting out the little shapes with cookie cutters.
BAH to that I say! Not when there are pans with teensy little cake shapes that waste none of the precious batter! :-D
Anyway, I say the way to people's hearts is most definitely through their stomachs.
So, go show someone you love them.
Bake, cook, toss or just offer somebody a bite.
They'll love you for it. :-D
Her eyes popped open wide. She instantly held her breath as she tried to identify the noise that had woken her.
Straining, she could hear the faint sounds of wood scraping against metal... the barely-there ring in the air... singing in her ears.
The room was purpley-black, the sheets smelling delicately of downy.
Slowly and carefully the girl twisted and slid her feet from the warm, silky-soft cotton sheets and toward the thickly carpeted floor.
Olive green shag carpet, to be exact.
Emma's little back arched, reaching down the side of the bed. When her toes found the fuzzy warmth, she grabbed gropingly for her red plastic frames on the bedside table.
Glasses on her nose, she tip-toed to the doorway and leaned against the frame. Her knobby, freckled knees peeked out from the oversized t-shirt she slept in; a large, gray, much worn and washed affair stolen from an older male cousin or brother.
Pressing her side into the doorway, she hugged the frame tightly, willing herself not to be afraid. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the wood, tracing the grooves absent-mindedly with a thumb.
Why are old houses so creepy at night? She whispered silently to her eleven year old self. It doesn't help that I've had the monster dream again, where my family all turn into werewolves, vampires and ghouls... she swallowed.
The hallway was deep and murky; paneled in dark walnut it made a sharp contrast to the light blue pastel walls of the bedroom she was in.
Squeezing her eyes shut as the scary scraping sound began again, she quickly counted to eleven in her head (one year for each in her age). Her breath tight in her chest, she exhaled silently and slowly, feeling goosebumps trickle down her arms and legs, her hair standing on end and sending her into a shiver.
Heart thudding her pulse against her throat, she peered right, then left.
Her bedroom was the front room, on the left side of the corner of the hallway. She could see that the middle bedroom door on the right, part way down the hall, was open; her grandmother must be awake too.
Looking further down, she could see the blackness of the back bedroom, its door slightly ajar.
She stepped out into the hall and spun around, pinning her shoulders against the wall and freezing motionless for a moment. When nothing grabbed her, she began inching toward the dark of bathroom doorway.
There was a light on in the kitchen; the glow was leaking out into the hall.
Her hair had flopped thickly into her eyes. She roughly shoved the curls away so she could see, then padded silently toward the kitchen door, hugging the opposite wall with her back just in case something decided to jump out at her.
Then, the scraping stopped completely.
She was perhaps a foot from the door, splayed tightly against the wall.
Suddenly, a round figure burst through the swinging dutch doors of the kitchen, blocking the glow.
"What in the world are you doin' out here pressed against the wall Kid?" Her grandmother asked her sternly, frowning down at the child over her apron.
The woman wasn't tall, just under five feet, with ample curves above and below her tiny waist. Her bunny-slipper covered feet were spread shoulder-width apart; a linebacker couldn't have knocked her off balance.
She had one hand propped on her hip, and the other waggling a wooden spoon covered in cookie dough at the girl's nose. Her curly silver hair was coiffed perfectly; framing her ruddy cheeks and head like an electric halo.
"Well, I heard a noise and---"
"Fair enough. You wanna' help? Lordy! You 'bout scared the bejeezus outta' me like that. I oughta' make you warsh' dishes, you little TURKEY!" she finished with emphasis, grabbing Emma by the back of her t-shirt and hustling her into the kitchen.
The yellow, orange, white and green plaid linoleum gleamed brightly in the stove light. The shades were drawn, but the first light of sunrise was shining pinkly through their translucent cotton eyelets. The cream coloured walls with 50's style stripes and daisies began to lighten as the sun came up.
"Wash your hands and bring that stool over t'me," the old woman bellowed, tossing the spoon back into an enormous metal bowl and scraping the dough into a large ball in the middle.
Well, that explains the scary sound, thought Emma as she smiled to herself.
Cookie pans were greased and ready on top of the gas stove, as she brought the stool to the counter beside her grandmother.
Winking and staring sternly down into her granddaughter's brown eyes, magnified by their red frames, she thrust two teaspoons in to her little hands.
"Scoop 'em and ball 'em and put 'em not more nor less'n 2 inches apart on those sheets, y'hear?"
"Yes Ma'am," came the proud reply.
Leave it to her grandmother to make cookies at 4:30 AM the morning of Halloween.
---------------------------------
I love food. I also love cooking.
I have been known to bake things "simply because," and lately my culinary creations have revolved around chocolate.
I bake every week for my choir companions (we rehearse fairly late in the evening) so this week it was double chocolate pecan cake and petit fours.
Fairly easy.
First take your favorite chocolate cake recipe (mine is gluten-free, vegan and has a bit of pumpkin and coconut oil in it) and add chocolate chunks/chips and pecans. Bake per usual.
Easy, huh? :-D
The petit fours I made were mocha cake with cinnamon coconut cream as the filling, and covered in dark chocolate-- again, all gf and v.
Having never made petit fours before, I owe my success to a petit-four pan-- I didn't have to fuss with baking sheet cake, freezing it and then carving or cutting out the little shapes with cookie cutters.
BAH to that I say! Not when there are pans with teensy little cake shapes that waste none of the precious batter! :-D
Anyway, I say the way to people's hearts is most definitely through their stomachs.
So, go show someone you love them.
Bake, cook, toss or just offer somebody a bite.
They'll love you for it. :-D
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