RICH INNER LIFE

Flaw #567

2011-11-25T05:20:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving is a day that gives you plenty of time for long discussions. Especially during the extended exercise of hand washing and drying all the china, silver, pots and pans. It is probably a little late in the game for me to be figuring out that the world is fraught with danger and intrigue but I finally came to that conclusion and shared it with one of my younger sisters in the midst of our dish washing.

I have a bad habit of being what I'd like to think is honest. I talk about what I am thinking at any given moment. It is intended to be a dialogue with the conversee but it seems that most conversees see it as a pronouncement that is set in stone. My sister declared this "thinking out loud." People quickly jump from a pronouncement to drawing a line in the sand while I am still rolling thoughts around in my head......out loud.

The danger comes from thinking out loud with people who may not want to be a sounding board. Or the danger is ...not knowing when to shut up.

Cooking Disaster

2011-11-12T19:25:00.000-05:00

So I have confirmed why I am only allowed to cook once a week. Yet another cooking disaster. It was really more of a buying disaster. I decided to try a new brand of gluten free pizza. Gluten free products are pretty mediocre at best... so you can just imagine the results. I do not recommend King Arthur brand gluten free pizza.The gold standard continues to be Bob's Red Mill. King Arthur came out more like a focaccia which is fine if that is what you are expecting....read more on unmet cooking expectations here.

While waiting for said leaden experience in baking to rise I had a chance to finish a review of the most recent biography on George Kennon. An interesting character during interesting times. Makes you start questioning the right of the masses to vote and rule our country. Note to self....buy biography and read...right after you have finished that biography on Copernicus.

Also had a chance to read about Margaret Sanger and the history of "family planning"more commonly known as birth control. We have come a long way but it is beginning to feel as if we are sliding backwards. Another note to self- those damn Europeans have it all over us Americans when it comes to pizza and social policy.

Facing Off

2011-10-16T07:45:00.003-04:00

Typical, everyday Sarah being unglamorous, unfashionable, unsophisticated and uninteresting.

I started doing Facebook a few years ago in an effort to learn about all the free marketing tools at my disposal....along with blogging, twitter and e-newsletters. In tandem I created personal and business accounts. It has proved to be a great marketing tool for my business. On the personal front it seems to be an exercise in self-esteem management.

Making my life sound interesting on a daily - or hourly- basis is a chore. I read every one's posts and wonder how they do it. When I start to analyze I realize that many don't have a fascinating life. They tend to post the same thing over and over......sort of advertising how boring they are. I made a rule for myself about not posting something if I have said it one or two times already. It keeps me from repeating "Oh my GOD I woke up at 3 AM again!" The world and my friends don't need to be reminded that I am an insomniac.

Being witty and on for the world to see is, likewise, a burden. I try to save the bon mots for the friends who will share in a delicious giggle with me- in real time. I appreciate when people share something witty on Facebook but it seems strained when they constantly have to one up themselves to maintain the facade.

And the biggest burden is for Facebook users to appear engaged, civic minded and selfless at all times. They are supporting a cause, being righteous or telling you what side of the political fence they fall on by "liking" someone else's post, cause or whatever. It all feels so superficial to me. Does no one do anything nice or right just for the personal thrill of it? Does it need to be broadcast? I will admit that I have participated in some of this self promotion in the past because it feels like the rules of the game. I feel as uncomfortable doing it now as I do in sporting bumper stickers on my car. I do nice things because it is the right thing to do.... not because I am branding myself.

The Power of Andy... Squared

2011-01-25T07:15:00.004-05:00

I stayed at my sister's house the other night. It was still dark when I woke up and snuck downstairs to find some coffee. As I walked past her bedroom her husband, Andy called out "is that you Sarah? Come cuddle with me." My sister Reta has the weirdest work habits of anyone I know so she had already cleared out of bed to jump on her computer...leaving her hollow in the bed for me.

Andy's invite was all I needed. I climbed into bed and assumed the world's most comfortable position, spooning- pushing my butt into his union suited stomach, his arms around my shoulders. He noted how familiar my body felt- being practically a double of his wife- and then proceeded to tell me how beautiful, funny and personable I am. As I struggle with the definition of happiness and what a relationship is these were words that were soothing.

I asked him to hold me tighter.... and he did. With his lips practically on my ear he told me how wonderful his relationship with my sister is. She is even tempered. She never holds a grudge. She says exactly what she wants. She lets him know when he is being a jerk. And he appreciates being told. She follows her heart and allows him to do the same.

I want that. And it felt good just to be held.

As I wandered downstairs finally to find my first cup of coffee. Reta looked up from her computer and noted I was up. I told her I had been in bed with her husband cuddling.

"He's a good cuddler, isn't he?"

Yup.

Andy and Reta sharing a smooch.

Digging Up Some Personal Dirt

2011-01-20T20:23:00.000-05:00

Things can take a while to sink in/fit in/make sense in my head. On my drive to work this morning I thought some more about the shootings out in Arizona and the media response to it. Most people have moved past it to more recent news but I am just starting to figure it out.

It would be nice to apportion blame to a larger force than a lone, crazy gunman. It is human nature to want to find a reason behind something that has disturbed us and if it was a lone crazy gunman the reasoning stops there. No linear thinking or reasoning involved. So we start to blame everyone but the most obvious instigator. We blame the "other." And the media played into our collective deep, dark needs.

I think the truth is that it was a lone crazy gunman. But just saying the shooter had faulty wiring doesn't satisfy our need to seek retribution. Punishing an insane person serves no one- they won't ever show remorse or be deterred by punishment. Only a sane person can understand the concept of cause & effect, crime & punishment.

But I don't think this lets everyone else off the hook. And by "everyone else" I mean the people who have used inflammatory language in this current social climate. We all need to respect the power of words- their ability to strengthen, destroy, marshal, belittle and enlighten. Political and military leaders have used language to sway and persuade. It is a huge disservice to our ability to communicate if we say we cannot make someone do something with words alone.

I also think it is human nature to try to find a place to put our strong emotions. I think the young shooter had huge feelings of anger, hate & resentment. His past shows a history of similar problems. I think he latched onto a seeming struggle between our political factions and poured his feelings into it. And these feelings allowed him to turn people into enemies, something less than human. He conflated anger into moral right.

And I think there is a much smaller lesson to take away. And I will make it personal here. As I struggle with feelings inside of me- sorting, dividing, dismissing & exploring- the confusion wells up in me. I find I lash out, make pronouncements, ask and weep as I struggle to make sense of it all. And those around me pay. I pour my heap of confusion into my bucket of relationships.

But I would like to think that a love that binds will keep them by me as I do for them.

Sarah uncovering more dirt. Or is it a new lily garden?

Miss Communication

2011-01-19T06:17:00.007-05:00

Is there some trick to it that I don't get? Did I miss yet another queue for an important life skill manual because I was busy contemplating my navel?

And most importantly.... why do they make it look so easy in the movies?

Communication
Misunderstanding
Reiteration
Resolution

In an effort to be the most honest, selfish & happy person in the world I keep running smack into other people trying to do the same thing. Their thing sometimes runs counter to my things.

On the other hand I reflect that if all went smoothly every single day it would be boring. I would cease to put effort into things. I would walk around in a stupor. It would be the proverbial happy pill.

Happiness can be in the stretching, growing and trying.

Cheers! Sarah having a cappuccino in Florence.

Okay, Enough About You....

2011-01-15T04:35:00.004-05:00

I had lunch with my good friend Michelle yesterday. She is certainly someone I would call a fellow traveler. We both are struggling along to become the best people we know how to be. Which, in my case anyways, is quite a bit less than perfect.

Over a cup of tea and garlic/chicken nachos (disgusting-eh?) she said she had to say something to me, get it off her chest, clear the air. She was slightly misty eyed so I prepared to hear another of my occasional transgressions... which it was. I had hurt her with what I thought was an unimportant comment. But it didn't matter what I felt about the comment- it had hurt her to the quick. She felt judged.

What to do? #1- Apologize. #2- Explain.

But the explanation didn't involve any minimizing of the intent of the comment. I took full ownership of it, but tried to explain the state I was in at the time. I was in a bad place. My comment reflected what I would have so harshly said to myself in similar (but not quite) circumstances.

And I am also relearning that each person's experience is unique and trying to extrapolate from my own experience and apply to an other's just plain, old doesn't work. Along with the lesson that words can be very, very powerful.

And then Michelle tried to explain away her tears. "You think too much, I feel too much." She is right- again.

Henry & Charlie making nice.

Feeling A Bit Peckish

2011-01-11T04:46:00.005-05:00

I feel like this a lot. When I am with someone I want to touch their face and be nose to nose. I like physical connection when layered on top of like.

Especially that third photo down... pushing into some one's personal space as if to say "Hello! I 'm still here. Pay attention!"

I use to drive my husband crazy... I was the driver in the family and we would take a lot of pleasure cruises up the coast of Maine or to Northern NH looking for antique stores we hadn't yet discovered. We would also talk a lot. I can't remember about what. But I would lean over into his space frequently, proffering the top of my head and demand that he kiss it. He would eventually grow weary of this task and just start to peck the top of my head with his fingers while making a kissing noise. I knew that he was cheating, but it was still satisfying for me. At least he never, ever said "no" completely. And his exasperation with my demand was a little bit cute.

I am guessing this makes me a little bit needy.......

Truth Is In the Telling, Not Just the Knowing

2011-01-09T06:00:00.015-05:00

Today is my 49th birthday. My big birthday gift is that I was granted a reprieve two days ago in the form of two negative breast biopsies. I had entered the high risk pool because one of my younger sisters had breast cancer and I have very dense breasts. While I still need to go for an MRI to make double, extra sure that there is nothing lurking in the shadows it is sweet relief to have received this current diagnosis.

This medical rite of passage is yet another wake up call that I don't have forever to get this life right. I had recently begun the process of reflecting on how I have spent the last decade of my life. This event has pushed me right over the edge. My self assessment led me to admit that I am not happy in my life, which is a pretty horrible realization.

I could point to specifics but the basic truth is that I am afraid to ask for the things I want- to voice my desires, wants and needs. And that is wrapped up in the other truth- that I feel I am undeserving of the things I want. It keeps me from asking. And it comes from a shamed core in me. Damned esteem issues!

And the other mitigating issue is that I anticipate people's response to my requests which keeps me from ever trying to ask for what I want in the first place. My mind has become both a refuge and a jail for my feelings. Double-Damn!

So I have given myself one year- till I am 50- to get my shit together. It means paying attention to what I really want and asking for it. It means not worrying about someone else's wants- unless I get pleasure by meeting their wants. It means being brave enough to put my wants out there regardless of the response I expect. It means I will need to say these things out loud and not just think them. And maybe, just maybe I will be surprised and gratified by the acknowledgment and love I will feel in return.

Ready, set, go.

More Water Over the Dam

2011-01-01T07:20:00.005-05:00

Another new year has arrived and a lot of water has gone over the dam this past year. I suspect a bucket or two to go over in my future. Time never seems to stop.

My resolution this year? I am going to be truly selfish. Not just my usual day to day, garden variety sort of selfishness. I am going to be over the top selfish. Me, me, me.

There are some out there who may be saying "So what is different? You have always been selfish"

Admittedly so. But I think by being half-hearted in my selfishness I am serving no one's best interest. I sort of ask for what I want. I sort of demand things. I sort of take time from people.

By being over the top in my selfishness I will be completely true to my desires. By being completely true I will not only be completely honest, but I will be making myself happiest, which is good for everyone.

I have been working up to this. I have practiced on a few people. It takes focus and thoughtfulness. I am surprised at the results. And gratified.

Web of Women

2010-12-29T02:32:00.024-05:00

Someone commented on the web of women in my life. I thought that was such a great phrase and I thought I would use this space to count my blessings:

Mum- my mother is my my biggest fan and supporter. I love her so much it hurts. I still run to her when I have a problem or need help. I have yet to reach the bottom of her well of knowledge and compassion.

Polly- Other Mother, my mother's best friend. I can't remember when Polly wasn't in my mother's, and our, lives. I love when she calls me "honey" and how she steps right into the role of mother at the drop of a hat. She loves me and I love her right back.

Louise- my best friend since I was a sophomore in high school. We have traveled a lot of ground together. She is clear eyed and unafraid to let me know when I have faulty thinking. She is also the friend that I can call anytime of the night and say "I need you now." And I do it for her too. She also tickles my funny bone to its very core.

Reta- my younger sister, who is so smart. When I need a reality check on people relations, business or larger philosophy Reta is the one I turn to. She is clear headed, non-judgemental and even tempered. She gives the best advice. If she says so, it must be right. Surprisingly she likes to giggle and be silly. I appreciate that aspect of her too.

Abby- my youngest sister. Abby is fiery and loud mouthed and very in touch with how she feels. When I need fashion tips or to blow my stack she is the one I go to. She knows that feelings need to be expressed to be understood. She allows me to be angry, upset, distraught and get to the other side exhausted, crying, sated and ready to figure it out. I indulge my potty mouth with her.

Michelle- started as a dog walking buddy and is now just a plain old friend. Michelle is my feminine friend. We enjoy doing girly stuff- shopping, antiquing, shoes, watching romantic movies that make us cry. She is totally right brained and intuitive- the complete opposite of me. She has a magical way of correcting me when I get overbearing or controlling. And she gets me to laugh at myself as she does it! We have had some damned fine adventures.

Annie- another dog walking buddy who turned into a friend. She is fiercely protective of me. She makes me feel very loved. It is a funny feeling to be protected by someone who is so physically tiny in comparison- but I'll take it! She is also supremely rational and a great help as I try to figure things out.

Jen- a force unto herself. I don't see her very often but when I do we fall right back into the yakking. She makes me feel okay about being both a strong, competent woman and a total screw up. She also makes me laugh until I wet my pants. (I mention laughing a lot because I hold it in high regard. If you want to be my friend, make me laugh.) Jen sees the power in me.

Susan & Lynn- I have known these two since grade school. That kind of continuity is irreplaceable. I mention them together because we always get together as a team. We know each other so well that we all know how hard to push the other and when to back off. This relationship is pure affection.

Maria- a dog walking friend. She owns a vacation home a mile from my house and comes up every other weekend or so. She asked to join me one morning as I walked past her house and we haven't stopped yet! I don't often meet someone who has my taste for covering miles when I walk. And it is a total bonus that she likes to talk about good stuff! She is like an older sister and serves as a sounding board on relationships and business. We are both good at pointing out to the other our faulty thinking, ruts, and other pitfalls of life. I appreciate her constancy and good humor.

When I feel unsettled these are the women I turn to. I feel lucky to count them as friends and confidantes.

1-Abby, Reta, Sarah, Susan at the camp around 1989
2-Louise, Sarah, Reta getting ready for the sauna around 1984
3-Sarah, Annie and my lovely Lady around 2001

Body Image

2010-12-28T18:45:00.006-05:00

My friend, Maria, was up for the week at her vacation home up the street from me. She is a dog walking buddy but the best part is that she is a talker too. We always have something to hash over or work out.

This time she rolled out the door and then rolled her eyes “Thank goodness they wanted to cancel the brunch plans this morning. I feel like we have been eating non-stop for days.” Christmas seems to be a time of excess for everyone. She then recounted her husband and son’s unspoken contest to eat the other under the table. Maria is a diabetic so she is very careful of her intake. She is also very slim.

“Ugh, I just feel so fat after all that eating. I can feel it in my cheeks. I really need this walk. I have to be careful. Food is poison. ”

“But you are so slim.”

“I wasn’t always. When I went away to college I got into the afternoon cookies and got up to 160 pounds. I was a pudge.”

She rolled her eyes again and laughed- “Body image!”

“Yeah who doesn’t have a negative body image?” And I shared my bout with anorexia as a young teen. “I don’t think I was controlling things so much as punishing myself for all my flaws- body included.”

She laughed again and said “what flaws?”

“Come on- look at me. What’s to like?”

“You are kidding, aren’t you?”

"Yeah, right. I'm kidding."

Yeah- right. It’s still a struggle.

That would be me in 3rd grade before I cared so much about my body.... but I did love the paisley dress my mother sewed for me. I am still partial to paisley.

Audience of One

2010-12-14T20:13:00.007-05:00

I let out a sigh as I allow Henry to climb between the front seats of the car to be next to me. He will stick his nose under my arm and flip it up in an effort to get me to pat him. He puts his two front paws on my seat so he can get a better view out the window. He continues to flip my arm and let out an occasional whine despite the attention I am paying to him. In short, he is a pain in the ass.

I got my little mutt 3 years ago knowing that he had some issues. His separation anxiety was the biggie. After owning him a little while I recognized that he would take off on me if he smelled anything good- despite a disorder which makes him stick to my side. How do you reconcile the fact that a dog has separation anxiety AND will run away given the opportunity?

I finally reached the conclusion that Henry is my karmic come-uppance. My dog is me. I like the security of knowing there is someone there to catch me if I fall.... and fill my water bowl. If I catch the scent of something delicious I want to follow my nose. I want to hang my head out the car window because it feels good, but I want to glance over to see that someone is still there. And when I am feeling insecure I want to be able to curl up on a lap and be petted till everything is right again.

I keep this in mind as Henry demands my attention while I am trying to drive my car. For whatever reason he needs its- and I give it to him because I love him. And I treasure the feeling of his warm, fuzzy belly as I remember those times he would gladly run away.

What Kind Of Dog Are You?

2010-12-07T20:19:00.002-05:00

I am currently reading a book called Let's Take the Long Way Home by Gail Caldwell. It is the tale of two women who bond over dogs and become best friends.

Like many friends they develop shorthand phrases and little inside jokes. One of their shared jokes is to try to figure out what dog breed people would be. This is an exercise they perform on both friends and strangers.

I am sure this gets easier with time to pair a human with their canine counterpart. I found my mind turning to figure out what breed I might be. I immediately thought of an Afghan Hound. I am lanky and athletic. I suspect I am a bit high strung but also aloof. I am definitely lacking the long tresses, but if I had a tail it would be held curled and at attention.

No doubt there are many people who think I am some sort of terrier.....

So You Think You Want To Be My Friend?

2010-12-06T19:53:00.004-05:00

I called up a friend I haven't seen in a while to ask her opinion. We always start our phone calls off with "We need to make a date and get together. I have SO much to tell you."

I then proceeded to ask her opinion "but, oh wait you have to check out this website before you tell me what you think about my most current thought."

Her response...... "Great, now not only do we need to set an agenda to get through a conversation but I have to do homework?"

Yeah, pretty much.

Probably No One Is Reading At This Point....

2010-12-04T18:56:00.004-05:00

....which is fine by me. I can get back to my original goal which was to work on my writing/communicating/story telling skills. It is far easier when you aren't writing to an audience.

I found myself worrying about what someone else was thinking recently. It rolled around my brain like a washer set to an extra rinse cycle.... over and over and over. What if I was misreading the communication cues? What if I was getting ahead of a conversation by second guessing a response? What if I was layering my hopes, dreams and previous experience onto a current conversation?

Ahh... after rolling that thought around for a while I realized it didn't matter what the other person thought and I acted on the experience I was having.

I feel better now.

Doesn't Henry look ridiculous in a tutu? I love Henry and my nieces who dress him that way.

Drama On Pleasant View Road

2010-08-18T20:38:00.009-04:00

Took the mutt for a quick after dinner stroll, but we had barely left the property when drama struck.

I heard peeping. Henry detected the source before I could even focus. A small grayish chick flopped about in the road. Feathers enough to flop about and really wear the mantle of " bird" but helpless enough to quiver at the huge set of teeth that is the omnivore poodle-boy Henry.

To complicate matters I heard a car approaching. To put it in perspective- I can hear a car approaching as it turns off the main road about 1/4 mile away. This noise is not to be confused with the other parallel road. I can also hone in on the whereabouts of any horse carriages tracing the loop by the echo of their hooves. All of this to highlight that this is a lightly traveled area where traffic is quite predictable.

Like Dudley Doright helping Nell tied to the track, I had ample opportunity to plan my rescue and execute it. I fumbled to tie my dog to the neighbors mail post. (Henry looked at this peeping bundle as an after dinner snack.) I dropped the lead twice but managed to get the task done. I looked up to see lights approaching so I ran into the road. The car slowed and I was able to shoo the bird to the side where it got tangled in the grass- wings akimbo.

I looked at its greenish tinge and thought baby Yellow Throat, but I looked up to see two common Sparrows fidgeting in the tree.

As exciting as this drama was I have learned to walk away. I did all I can do. I gave the baby bird another chance. It either figured out how to use its wings or it became a meal for the kitties next door. There is little else I can do to change the course of nature.

Life is hard all over.

!!!

2010-07-21T20:11:00.002-04:00

So I read someplace that you are only allotted a certain number of exclamation points in your lifetime. I am pretty sure the usage number was below 200. I am a "!" junkie. It expresses my attitude which is a bit boing boing. I checked out the titles to my last two posts and decided I have a serious problem.

What A Man!

2010-07-21T05:49:00.004-04:00

Amongst all the other samples/goodies I received for being a judge this past weekend were a few items for the man of the house- a comb, scalp massager, bay rum after shave. I gave them to the boyfriend who immediately took a walk down memory lane to the time when men doused themselves in Old Spice...... in order to impress the babes.

The next morning said boyfriend shaved and decided to splash on the aftershave. He met me at the door as I returned from my morning walk. As I opened the door I could smell him. But I was not sufficiently impressed so he hugged me. It was a nice smell- certainly not offensive, but I may not be the best judge as I have very little sense of smell. Maybe he smelled like a big old flower.

But it reminded me of watching my father shave when I was a little girl. It was a morning ritual. A small dish held the soap which he would lather up with a short brush and apply to his face. The razor would make a trail through the lather- marking where he had been. His slightly upturned face would be reflected in the mirror- with the occasional pull of the nose or earlobe to reach a deep crevice. And then.....

...... the Aqua Velva. It was bright blue and held in a flat bottle. He would splash it onto his hands and then onto his face. I miss this. Men all use electric razors now. There is no romance, mystery or ritual to it.

I'll Be The Judge of That!

2010-07-18T18:52:00.006-04:00

I serve on the board of Main Street Concord, Inc., a non-profit committed to economic development through historic preservation. It is a program started by the National Historic Trust a few decades ago and it is still going strong. This long winded explanation is a way to account for being roped into a fashion makeover at our large annual downtown festival called Market Days.

I was not asked to be a participant, which is gratifying to know they didn't think I needed fixing, but to be a judge. I was concerned that I don't have any qualifications. I am not big on makeup. I don't own a comb or brush. My clothing veers towards the comfortable with a few forays into the outlandish (I love high heels!) But then I saw the line up of other judges and knew I would fit right in.

The six contestants were 5 females and one male. The majority were single moms or stay at homes that had neither the money or inclination to look their snazziest every morning. The gentleman, who was roped in, is running for state senate and is better known for riding his bike to work and promoting clothes lines to save electricity- which is to say that his looks fell to the bottom of his priority list. Six foot tall "before" pictures were displayed and each contestant with their team of hair stylists, aestheticians & clothiers were brought on stage to much applause. The transformations were amazing and each contestant was thrilled with their new look. One single mom of three won. It was really quite moving to be a part of this contest.

I took home a goody bag of gift certificates and oodles of samples as a thank you for being a judge. It was amazing how many things were stuffed into such a small bag! This evening, after a day of gardening, I decided to try a few of the products.

IN THE SHOWER: I used Alterna Hemp Shampoo & Conditioner. I don't normally use conditioner as my hair is short, wiry and I like it to stick up at unexpected angles- so natural is better. My hair didn't seem any different from when I use my cheapo Pantene shampoo. I used some Dermalogica body scrub to get the filth off of my legs and feet. It worked well- but so does my scrub brush. I used proprietary buffing granules from Breathe Spa- except it didn't say what I should be buffing. I took a chance and buffed my face, which normally reacts to anything too rough. This seemed very mild though- so I think I picked the right part to buff. I will have to try it a few times to see if my skin reacts.

OUT OF THE SHOWER: I opened up a sample of Dermologica Map-15 Regenerator. Because the printing was so small on the side of the little test tube I decided to wing it. I figured anything that small must be really precious and intended for the eye area. I was a little shocked to pour out a very fine powder. What the hell do you do with powder? I must say it applied rather nicely- practically melded with my skin instead of falling off my cheeks into the sink. It felt good but I didn't notice anything different and my boyfriend didn't think I looked any younger. I then applied some L'Occitane skin cream. I am afraid that I am a "if some is good, more is better" kind of person. I put a generous teaspoon into my hand and applied it to my face. It felt like shortening going on, but in a good kind of way. My skin is quite dry so it appreciates a good slathering up. After a while it soaked in and left my skin quite soft.

I want to laugh at the lengths and expense women will go to maintain their youth and beauty. On the other hand- I would love to maintain my youth and beauty. I may go so far as to buy the buffing granules and L'Occitane face cream- although I might get a shock when I discover how much youth & beauty costs!

Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog

2010-07-08T20:27:00.004-04:00

Either you love the sound of a hound dog or you don't. I wasn't told that Henry was part hound....but there it is. I was raised with a Beagle as the family dog. The sound is pure joy.....very loud and insistent pure joy.

Even as I watch other people cringe or scowl it makes me smile.

Bananarama

2010-06-04T17:26:00.015-04:00

So I think there is a story in this somewhere.

Since I got my dog Henry and started walking a paved route I have noticed that there is a serial banana peel thrower who lives on our road. There are peels thrown hither and yon. Sometimes on the roadside, sometimes in the grass, sometimes fresh, sometimes wizened and decayed.I don't see them everyday.... but that could be the scavenging of the local fauna thwarting my daily banana peel viewing.

It makes me laugh to find these peels- not sure why. I can imagine someone climbing into their car every morning, gripping their breakfast on the go. They seem regular enough to always grab a banana but not so OCD that they begin and end their eating habit at the exact same time- thus throwing the peel in the same spot every day. Perhaps they have a potassium deficiency and the doctor ordered a banana a day? Perhaps they are a creature of habit and can't start a morning without the pleasant and vaguely sexual defilement of a piece of fruit?

It has long occurred to me that I should be cataloguing these peels. My lack of camera hinders the archiving so I may have to break down and purchase a camera- a process I have recently started. Because I suffer from something vaguely similar to OCD it may take me a while. I am only in the fact gathering stage. In the meantime I continue to borrow the camera from work. And here you have the output of one day's walk....four different banana peels. These are all pretty old, but they seem to add to the story.

One of these days I will actually witness the serial banana peel thrower in action. In the meantime I will put these up for the amusement of my readers.

Day In The Life of My Garden, June 2, 2010

2010-06-03T06:22:00.006-04:00

Things are looking mighty fine at Chez Chaffee. Behold those poppies- every time they bloom they surprise me with their beauty. The Snow in Summer is a billowing mass of white loveliness.

My peonies are perfect. I suspect the rose chafers are on their way to wreck their beauty, but sigh.... enjoy them while I can

I am smitten with my new planter. I have been coveting these echeveria for years and finally splurged. The pink blush on those chubby leaves make me want to pinch them. But like one of little nieces I just reach down to plant a little smooch on them to express my admiration.

And here is the new arbor- installed! My Henry Kelsey roses need to get to work now.

Flowers!

2010-06-01T20:18:00.010-04:00

One of my artists is an elderly gentleman who lives in Canada. I have spoken to him once and met him once, but we email every so often. He is an absolutely charming and delightful correspondent. As he slows down his physical world becomes smaller but I suspect he reaches out to more people, like myself, to stay engaged and pertinent in the world of the mind.

Also like myself, he is a gardener and enjoys watching his plants and flowers move through their cycles. Yesterday he wrote to me that "despite being a potter who should enjoy bringing in flowers to fill my vases I prefer to enjoy them outside. The only culture that knows how to bring flowers inside are the Japanese."

I have always been miserly about bringing flowers into my house so this statement made a lot of sense. My boyfriend is a bit of a bouquet fiend. I always claim to not have enough to share with his vases. I realize that my artist/correspondent has hit upon the true reason. Flowers are never as alluring as when found in their native habitat- springing naturally from their clumps, stems, whorls, branches & vines. In nature they are spaced ever so perfectly, whether that is symmetrically or randomly. They face in the appropriate direction- out, so as to catch the most light or the attentions of a pollinator. There is a balance of foliage to blossom that seems right.

I have also worked hard in my garden to position them next to the perfect backdrop or complimentary plant- orange poppies next to a blue spruce, exuberant Rudibeckia next to severely upright Karl Forester Miscanthus, silver Lamb's Ear interspersed with the dainty blossoms of Grape Hyacinth. How could a bouquet compete with that?

THAT being said, I have always felt the most successful bouquets were mostly fillers and greens to set off a few blossoms. Or- the exquisite placement of a single flower in an Ikebana vase.

Household Addition

2010-05-12T20:34:00.014-04:00

Being in "the business" I occasionally receive gifts from artists. It isn't expected. I assume my role as a supporter of the arts is to purchase artwork like everyone else, but it is always a delightful surprise to receive a gift- especially the gift of art from an artist I respect.

This past week Fred Lynch gave me a small painting from his Division Series. This series is currently featured at the Portland Museum of Art in Maine. While my boyfriend is as big a fan of Fred as I am he was a little leery of squeezing one more piece into our home. Like two little old ladies we fussed with items, moved them two inches, changed plants, considered moving furniture and finally came to a conclusion.

The small painting came to rest on a trunk underneath a large painting by Fred of a pink rectangle. The new painting contains a little of the same pink making a connection to it. The new painting also has a some ruby color which related directly to the Gerry Williams to the left. And to top it off we moved a beautiful fine line porcelain plate by Rebecca Lucerio next to the whole lot.

The placement of all of these pieces gives me an overwhelming feeling of pleasure and rightness with the world. The exquisite rendering of the plate is similar but different from the nervous line of Fred's painting. The low-res images, unfortunately, don't give you a sense of their delicate precision. The grouping's colors relate but aren't so matchy-matchy that you think you walked into a Pottery Barn display. And there is a sense of historicity- a connection from past to future of this particular aesthetic trajectory.

Finding these connections is one of the most enjoyable parts of owning an art collection.

A Day In The Life Of My Garden, May 9, 2010

2010-05-09T17:53:00.018-04:00

It has been a while since I have posted about my garden so this is just a little catch-me-up for those of you who care. Things are just beginning to take shape. We have a couple of below freezing nights predicted so the boyfriend is a mite afeared for the fruit trees which are in blossom right now. He also went out to pick all the asparagus that had poked its head through- better eaten than frozen.

There is a whole flock of pure purple Johnny-Jump-Up which is blooming its little fool heads off right now. As always it is a fabuloso contrast with the golden cypress. You might notice one stray sedum that ducked my hell bent for eradication trowel of death last summer- I just got sick of the cheap sedums from the grocery store showing up every spring full of promise - that only delivered a summer of heartbreak and mushy, withered stems.

Not too far from this complimentary color scheme are some last minute daffodils that are enhanced by the broad green back drop of rhubarb. Sometimes I think I like rhubarb more as a plantable than an edible. mmm, mm good no matter how you dish it up!

My purple smoke bush is just starting to show its colors- hope it doesn't get bitten by the frost the way it did last year. It is a particularly girly combination with the pink azalea and the fluffy ruffliness of the white iris in the foreground. Be still my fluttering heart!

And just because I have a camera in hand and this blog belongs to me I will inflict yet another season of Bleeding Heart on you! I love the bleeding heart but I am muy impressio'd by my Ladies Mantle. I dug up a plant that was swallowing a low slung sculpture and must have flung its seeds hither and yon. Now I have little plantlets everywhere- much to my avaricious delight. Nothing like too many plants to move and hoard.
Another shot of my Jane Kaufmann orb surrounded by pulmonaria and hostas getting ready to spread their wings. Right now they look like Piroulle cookies standing on end. Soon I will have to move the orb as the hosta are space hogs.

And here is what left of my disaster of a rose arbor. The wind finally did it in. The boyfriend bought me a new cedar one- but I need to make some concrete anchors so the wind doesn't do the same thing to it..... may find it a bit northeast of me in Goshen if it isn't properly battened down.
Enjoy!

The Big Wonder

2010-04-28T05:44:00.009-04:00

I have been rolling these thoughts around in my head for several weeks and can't make sense of them still. They aren't hooking their carts up to other thoughts nor are they sorting themselves into the
appropriate cubby holes for future reference. Perhaps putting them down "on paper" will help.

A few weeks ago I was able to listen to the whole Speaking of Faith interview with Fr. Guy Consolmagno and Fr. George Coyne, two Jesuit monks who are astronomers with the Vatican Observatory. That is a sentence worth repeating and paying attention to- astronomers at the Vatican Observatory. Who knew there was an Observatory at the Vatican (or that they have an outpost in Arizona) or that there are monks with PhD's in Astronomy? I was also dumbfounded to learn that the Vatican Observatory has the largest collection of asteroids in the world.

What really grabbed me about this conversation between Krista Tippett and her two guests is how happy they both seemed. They were living their lives doing exactly what they wanted and were filled with joy while doing it. They both expressed awe and wonder at the world around them. Most astoundingly neither felt conflict in pursuing faith and hard science. The world was put before them to discover and more deeply understand their God.

This is not to say it was easy. Fr. Coyne said that faith is a daily struggle and not a given. He said there is an assumption by lay people that people of faith are sure of their beliefs. He stated that the opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty.

Religion is something I have struggled with since my youth. As a young girl I questioned my church going neighbors, occasionally attended church with friends and replicated rituals I had learned at my first grade Catholic school with blocks for an alter and raisins to represent the body of Christ. In college I befriended Moonies and a feminist friend graduated to join a convent and move to South America. I was attracted to people with strong faith- much to the chagrin of my atheist Mom. I think I wanted to know more.

People of faith seem at peace with the world and the horrific things that happen. I could dismiss theirs as a simplistic view but I have to admit a bit of jealousy, and I think I am not alone in this jealousy. Many of the ideas from conventional religious faith have been co-opted by modern spiritual or secular humanist thought: be at peace with yourself, karma, ritual, communion, etc. But it seems stripped of the rigor of religious humanism. Why has this divide been created between spiritual journeying and the established religions?

I keep coming back to the two Jesuits who have reconciled their faith with the world around them, led productive lives, joined in the messy fray of human interaction and are joyful in the process. I am not sure this is something I can attain or if religion is a requirement to attain it. Or perhaps this is a lifelong quest.

Hellllooooo out there- any answers?

My Girl Orly

2010-04-12T20:30:00.007-04:00

I dropped in to see my friend Annie- and her pooch Orly. Orly is a Briard who is 11 years old. She was one of my Golden Retriever's dearest walking buddies- as we would meet up most mornings for a brisk 1 mile walk. For a treat we might drive to an outer borough for a longer jaunt. As youngsters my Golden & Orly would race around biting each other and rolling on the ground. As they reached middle age this segued into companionable walking. They were just happy to be in each other's company - no interaction necessary.

Lady died at the young 7 years of age. Annie listened to me cry and Orly put her paw on my lap. She missed Lady too, but she was always happy to see me and soon welcomed my new pooch, Henry.

She was happy to see me this time too. She got her weak back legs underneath her and came as she heard my voice in the front yard. We spent an hour looking at the new sod, peas coming up and lolling on the grass with the dogs. I noticed that Orly's breathing was a bit raggedy and Annie squeaked out that she"just wasn't ready for this."

I remember saying the exact same thing as I negotiated the week that started at the vets and ended at a surgeons. Contemplating the death of a companion is difficult, doubly so when you have to make that final decision- when your companion can't speak for themselves. Watching Annie negotiate these same decisions brings tears to my eyes now. In some ways it was easier for me because Lady was clearly in the end zone and my decision was to pick which hour instead of which week. I can see that no one is ever ready for this decision whether a life is cut tragically short or it has been lived to a full and natural conclusion. That pain of loss is just as full.

My thoughts are with Annie, Orly and anyone else struggling with these decisions.

New Summer Do

2010-04-05T06:14:00.007-04:00

The weather has been so warm here in New Hampshire that it seemed the right time to give Henry his new summer do. This is a procedure fraught with wrestling, stern voices and much skittering around in the front entry that I close off to keep him from escaping. I use to take him to a groomer but these tough economic times forced me to buy my own clippers and experience the struggle first hand. Here he is with the new clip. I like to keep it a little long around his face so he doesn't look too ridiculous. He has a very long, thin snout.

After the clip comes the bath. I have found it easier to just take him into the shower with me. He hates showers about as much as he hates hair cuts. There is no struggling, just cowering. After a quick dry I let him loose to shake off and run away from me. He usually tries to find a sunny spot- even though it was 70 degrees! This is his "I want a new owner" face.

Now for the blow out!

Kill The Deer

2010-03-29T20:08:00.004-04:00

This image taken from Iselli Nurseries which developed and sells this highly desirable little shrub.

I was taking a little stroll with the pup around the garden after dinner when I stopped for a good look at my Whipcord Thuja. It looked a little funny- like all its branches were bent down to the ground. Mind you it is a very slow grower and only started off as a 1 1/2 foot ball about 5 years ago, but it was looking particularly small. Closer inspection showed that not only were those branches bent to the ground but they were severed and actually laying on the ground. Its thin delicate bark was stripped from its cord like branches.

After a fleeting feeling of loss, my mind turned immediately to revenge. Kill the deer. Now.

Food in Florence Italy!

2010-03-28T18:50:00.014-04:00

Reta, Abby & Sarah enjoying light refreshment at the cafe at the Uffizi!

Freshly back from Italy with my two little sisters Reta & Abby- terrorizing waiters from Florence to Volterra. I suspect we were a wee bit gauche showing up at restaurants at the Ungodly early hour of 7 PM and giggling while ordering, but the waiters soon warmed to our charms and large tips. We also appreciated their food and service in an undeniable if linguistically stilted manner.

The food offerings were a bit disappointing to us- compared to my trip to Rome a few years back. Where were the artichokes during their harvest season? Where was the artichoke and olive pizza? It also seemed to be a much more pasta based diet in Florence- a real non-starter for a celiac. We sated our artichoke lust at the small grocery across the street with hotel picnics of cheese, salmon mousse, wine and marinated artichokes.

We soon hit our stride. The three of us, plus an honorary sister, new Sarah, who insinuated her way on to the taxi from the airport and into our forays for food, made for a foursome hell bent on culinary pleasure. We struck out to find the out of the way restaurants to deliver what we demanded.

The Osteria di Porcellini, not too far from the Porcellini Bronze (little boar), was our first attempt. The risotto with salmon and broccoli was decent but nothing a half rate Italian restaurant in the states wouldn't offer. What it did offer was Rafael sitting next to us and explaining the Italian leather trade. It was worth the price of admission. We checked out his shop the next day where his cousin summoned him from the factory floor with the promise of 4 American women. Our honorary sister, New Sarah, came close to purchasing but evaded the siren call of Italian shearling.

The next night we made a reservation at Il Santo Bevitore, across the Arno on the more funky side of town. It is a beautiful restaurant, but dimly lit. New Sarah sealed our fate as gauche Americans by stealing the candle from the nearby table to be able to read the menu. Our wonderful waiter, Camariere 2, castigated her but returned with a replacement candle. The meal was good and the service impeccable. Camariere laughed and helped us through the menu. We found a hopping little bar with live music on the walk home but we had already polished off a bottle of wine and an after dinner Limoncello. We stayed for a few songs and stumbled to the hotel.

The next day we were off to see sights without the others on the tour. We shopped and we went to the Opera del Duomo- a museum of original tidbits removed from the cathedral due to their delicate state. Once again Abby was in need of sustenance- and no one is happy unless Abby is happy. Reta turned around to point to some purple doors- "How about there?" It was a fortuitous choice and one of our best meals. Mangiofoco looks like a small hole in the wall but it is deceiving. There are many levels of tables and very fresh food cooked on the premises. There were ricotta and spinach tagliatelle, truffle honey drizzled on fresh pecorino and white fish in a delicate tomato sauce. The owner Max was our waiter and made the lunch an event. He even consented to a photo.

On New Sarah's final night we went to a much revered establishment- Buca Mario. The service was to die for, but we had just come off a wonderful lunch at Mangiofoco, it was noisy and the place felt a little overpriced. It reminded me a bit of those Boston restaurants that slide by on reputation and presentation. Good, but not great.

New Sarah returned to the US and the three graces continued on to Volterra- a cult destination for American teens due to it being the setting for the most recent Twilight series- New Moon. Nevertheless we found a light repast around 1 in what looked liked a cheesy dinner. Faux lacquer chairs and nearly non-existent atmosphere. We amused ourselves watching a young couple and their small child who was nearly a duplicate of my sister Reta's youngest daughter. The food was amazingly competent and satisfying for what basically amounted to an Italian diner. I had a delicious seafood risotto loaded with mussels. Then a class trip of Italian preteens descended for their lunch. We were reduced to tears watching them fight about food and who had to sit with the girls. Teens are the same the world over.

That night we vowed to eat at a tony looking little restaurant around the corner from our hotel. It was called Ristorante Enoteca Del Duca. We stupidly tried to go to dinner at 7- as the staff was sitting down to theirs. We were sent away- how humiliating! We showed up again at 7:45 and we were seated right next to the wine cellar. We were deep enough into the countryside that the waiter could not speak English. My sisters put me in charge of ordering wine. I am still trying to get the distinction between red and rose in Italian- it caused me to send a bottle back. Humiliation number two! We finally dived into the wine and started enjoying ourselves. My first course was ricotta souffle- light and lovely. Abby had spinach & ricotta gnocchi with truffles and a rich cream sauce. Reta had a light salad with pecorino shavings. We all tried Abby's gnocchi- they were just about the best thing I ever tasted- until my main course arrived. Reta had pasta with a pesto sauce. Abby opted for a light plate of grilled vegetables - a wise choice after her rich gnocchi. I had THE most amazing bowl of lentil soup I will ever have in my life! It was pureed and lightly rimmed with olive oil. Browned, extruded mashed potatoes formed a flower design around a raw egg yolk in the middle. Shaved white truffles covered the top. I pierced the egg yolk which ran over the top of the thick soup adding a rich creamy texture. The truffles were earthy and delicious. I wonder if anyone else has ever rhapsodized about lentil soup? We all agreed that while this was the priciest meal we had in Italy, it was worth every cent.

&&$%#@??*!@

2010-03-06T06:08:00.009-05:00

I have been thinking about the place of swear words in my everyday language. I hear them come out of my mouth and briefly consider that it is a habit I should stop, but then I never do.

I have read a few articles on swearing and realize there are people who are very interested in the function of swear words in our language. They can be used to express pain, frustration, hurt or to give emphasis to a thought. I suppose the problem is that for some people this is a constant occurrence ... so it loses its emphatic quality. Swear words are meant to shock so it is jarring when you are busy recovering from that shock every other word.

I believe I started thinking about this when I realized I had used an inappropriate word in front of a customer that I like a lot. Regardless- she is a customer. I apologized and told her that I feel she is more like a sister and thus familiar. Her response- "don't worry, we're family." Phew! Crisis averted. I also used the s**t word in front of an acquaintance/banker in town. It was to make an emphatic point- but why did I feel a need to resort to this language to get my point across?

Last night I went to a social event at my local Women's Club (who knew they still existed???). I met a new women and she let fly with a few "%#%#$'s" and a few "?@###'s." I took it in the context of her personality. She was exuberant and outgoing and made it clear that she was a straight shooter. I also took notice that she was comfortable with the off-color language.

About 30 years ago an employer whom I respected a great deal said she was afraid to swear in front of me because I never did it. At 18 years old I wanted to be a sophisticated grown up so I took to swearing like a truck driver in order not to put people off with my purity. The habit has been tempered over the years, but still alerts people to my exuberant, out-there personality.

I have to question its place in my conversation though. Is it really necessary (at my advanced age) to display an exuberant personality or wouldn't it be better to be the mysterious woman with still waters that run deep? What exactly am I conveying with this language?

Do you swear? Frequently?

I Kinda Like This....

2010-02-24T18:20:00.001-05:00

"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

— Marilyn Monroe

Another Bossy Capricorn's Book Review

2010-02-16T06:09:00.023-05:00

"Their Motives differed, and they moved in fits and starts, but gradually, guided to a surprising degree by a Church increasingly global in its outlook and imperial in its ambitions, their efforts fed into a collective quest for knowledge, power and wealth the likes of which had never been seen before."

I have just finished reading The Fourth Part of the World by Toby Lester- a book nominally about the first map to identify the New World as America, but more importantly about the age of discovery. The above quote from the final chapter brings to mind a rather animated electronic discussion I have been having with my Uncle Rufus regarding the Renaissance. His Masters thesis, which he received from Tufts during the mid-60's, doubted the existence of the Renaissance. My perspective on this period in history are through the eyes of art historians while, I am sure, his definition encompassed a broader perspective. The above quote neatly sums up the arc of the quest for worldly knowledge, the range of players, the roadblocks and passions which defined the Renaissance. This book defines the humanists and outlines their role in promulgating it.

As I look out across the Atlantic in an Easterly direction it is difficult to conceive of a world as small and insular as Europe in the 1200's. The world had contracted with the declines of the Roman & Greek empires, but not quite as much as our grade school history books would have us believe. The scientists of Europe were still in contact with their innovative Arabic counterparts and the Eastward reaching Holy Roman Empire despite the Church Schism and the Crusades. It is eye opening to learn that at no time was it accepted doctrine that the world was flat among the educated. This bit of hysteria was reserved for the hoi polloi- perhaps abetted by the sovereigns and the Church to keep them from remembering how hungry they were?

Ironically it is the Church who sped up the flow of information by calling for Church Councils to resolve the Papal and Church Schisms. By calling together all church potentates along with their retinues that numbered in the hundreds the Church brought together the best and the brightest of Europe who had nothing better to do but share knowledge, books and maps while the plenaries bickered about minutiae. It caused an explosion of knowledge sharing which was only enhanced by the soon to be invented Gutenberg press...... which in turn made this knowledge available in a cheap and freely traded format.

What I find fascinating about this book is the undeniable synergy of Church, commerce & scholarship which pushed the world forward in its understanding of itself. It is easy to dismiss any one of these factions as unimportant in the age of discovery- either pointy headed map makers without the heart of adventurers or the Church that is only interested in maintaining the status quo. This book dispels all those easy interpretations and replaces it with a nuanced view of the time.

Get thee to a library.

Smolder Alert

2010-01-19T20:01:00.009-05:00

Henry and his best, brooding, romantic-lead gaze.

This past Saturday Michelle and Melissa came over to eat, drink and watch movies. We are suckers for a romantic movie- especially anything Jane Austen-ish. Melissa brought over a BBC production of North & South. We watched the first two hours Saturday evening- at which point we lost Michelle to her grueling work schedule. The next morning Melissa and I were able to watch the last two hours- after a 5 mile walk to make sure we didn't get blood clots from sitting on our arses for so long.

North & South is the story of a South England woman who is exiled to the industrial North, where she meets, and slowly falls in love, with a factory owner. The male lead is played by Richard Armitage. He leaves Pride & Prejudice's Colin Firth in the dust as far as the brooding male lead sorts. Mr Armitage has perpetually scowling brows and eyes that give away few secrets. In the final train scene he finally softens into a smile and you can hear the collective sploosh of every woman's heart dropping to the floor.

I can't quite figure out why many women, me included, like this theme of the hard won love. Woman are all about the chase, whereas men generally want to cut right to the chase. The chase is what makes women swoon.

I also detect the theme of complicated men being more desirable that seems to run through so much female-centered literature.

What's the scoop?

*The title refers to a line from a movie- Lost In Austen. A time traveling fan of Austen is enamored of a truly brooding send up of Darcy. Mediocre movie, good line.

Consumer Purchase as Transformational Talisman

2010-01-10T18:21:00.013-05:00

Out with the old- in with the new!

I have been working up to my 48th birthday for about 6 months now. I don't buy into a "birth" day. I like to think of it as more of a birth season. It stretches over days, weeks and occasionally months. This time it has involved a lot of shopping, miscommunicating with my boyfriend and a general malaise.

When I feel unsettled I try to buy my way out of it. I believe if I find just the right object that makes me happy all will be right with the world again. It usually ends at a certain dollar amount or until the feeling passes. This time it has been a rather long spell that started in August.

Goodness knows what precipitated it. I am guessing the no-where-ness of turning 48, which is nearly 49, which is practically 50. It might also be that as a woman you tend to become invisible to men around this age. Funny- I have never needed their feedback for my self-esteem, but it becomes obvious that it is the age of transition to doyenne.

As I struggle with the imminent 50th birthday and the self regulation of my esteem my purchases have leaned heavily towards the fashion arena. It gives me the sense of putting a good face forward. Of someone who is keeping up and still giving it the old college try. I don't want to become the person who is only interested in being the most comfortable- or soon I would be the woman who is willing to wear sweatpants and Crocs in public. I am trying to postpone that phase as long as possible.
In my quest to stay engaged with the world and project the image of one who cares what others think I have forsaken my LL Bean slipons. They are easy and comfortable but they are worn, torn and make my feet look like a brown pillow held together with electrical tape. I purchased a pair of boots that made me gush to the salesperson about how wonderful they were to sell them to me. I slipped them on the next morning and felt beautiful with no one present to even behold their beauty. They are a transformational shoe purchase! And they are even Goretex- thus practical!

And here it is the day after my birthday. I not only feel more beautiful- I feel more settled too.

A Single Girl's Christmas

2009-12-26T13:55:00.010-05:00

This is about the extent of my ability to vamp.

The boyfriend took off on his annual sojourn to Florida about a week early leaving me alone for Christmas this year. I didn't know what I would do for Christmas but I figured I would find someplace to go and someone to share the day with.

Christmas eve arrived and I was working the late shift at the gallery meaning I would have to stay until 2 to make sure everyone had picked up their last minute framing. At 1 pm an artist/friend stopped in to wish me a happy holiday on her return from food shopping. We started yakking and she suggested that a glass of wine would be nice. She also suggested a little cheese and crackers to make it truly celebratory. Out to the moving larder that is her car and she returned with the victuals and our party began.

After a while we both started whining about the sorry state of our wardrobes and how we had allowed ourselves to not dress up to the best of our abilities- all lubricated by a glass of wine. While we hadn't stooped to wearing sweat pants in public, we certainly were on the slippery slope of "well, this is good enough."

Two o'clock soon rolled around and we packed up my dog and headed over to a boutique that was having a big Christmas Eve sale. It is a store that I rarely go into because it specializes in tight, shiny, sparkly, ruffly clothes. My friend and I tried everything on, spurring each other onto ever more body conscious clothing. (Mind you- she is a size 4 and my height plus she takes ball room dancing classes which requires tight and shiny.) We helped a young man buy some necklaces for his wife and kibitzed with the other women who wandered through the shop. About 5 o'clock we made our choices, untangled my dog from a clothing rack and left giggling.

I walked out with a tight hip length angora sweater with a rather plunging v-neck (among other things). I teamed it up with a new lacy tank top and a low slung wide, black belt. It is a decidedly sexier look than I usually wear, but I thought it made me look a touch more continental. She left with a pile of skirts, sweaters and necklaces. We had a ball.... sort of Pretty Woman minus the man with the credit card. I think if I am going to be a single girl on Christmas Eve that this should become an annual tradition.

Now for a better pair of jeans.

Good Art, Bad Art

2009-12-15T05:47:00.008-05:00

I believe I have written previously about how to tell good art from bad art. Many people are stymied by this skill and think that experts are trying to pull the wool over their eyes. A good rule of thumb is if it makes you say "Awwwwww, how cute" or "You can see every little feather (hair, pore, blade of grass)" you are probably looking at bad art. It doesn't mean you can't enjoy it. It just means it doesn't belong in a museum.

I have been doing a lot of reading on the Italian Renaissance recently as I am preparing for a trip to Florence this spring. The Stones Of Florence by Mary McCarthy, while in general a terrible book, contained some tidbits of information that got me thinking. In particular that with the rise of wealth for a few merchant families who patronized artists, there was a concurrent rise of bad and simply sexually provocative art. (Art being the word that pornography often hides behind.)

Sometimes in my reverence for the great cultures of the world I forget to consider that they had their flaws too. I hope as I wander through the Uffizi and the Duomo I remember to keep it all in perspective and look with critical eyes. Were these artists the Thomas Kinkade or Peter Max of their age- spinning out product for their clammering public?

Celebrity Spotting- NH Style

2009-12-06T15:15:00.010-05:00

I was walking in downtown Concord this past Thursday and saw a real live celebrity- Lorraine Merrill, Commissioner of Agriculture for the state of NH. It was one of those moments usually experienced in New York City. The sudden sense of recognizing the person in front of you and the overwhelming desire to shake their hand and say "I know you." You will be glad to know that I resisted. I can only imagine that Lorraine is somewhat relieved too.

Most people don't know the face of our Commissioner of Agriculture but my boyfriend happens to subscribe to the Weekly Market Bulletin. You can find it on most news racks next to People and Us. I generally check it out to see if any maple syrup condensers are for sale in Plainfield or working Corgi pups are ready to help me round up the sheep. I think the boyfriend likes to keep up with the wholesale cost of eggs. It is also an important source of gossip and info ready to help you identify people leaving the Legislative Office Buildings in Concord. Celebrity spotting in NH is light on the Versace and Prada and pretty heavy on down vests, jeans and muck boots. Puffy down outerwear tends to mask the sartorial accouterments of a celebrity so it is crucial to memorize the faces.

1979 Redux

2009-11-30T20:38:00.015-05:00

My friend, Lynn & I throwin' the gang symbols before leaving for our 30th High School reunion....just to let you know where we fall on the nerdometer.

So I went to my 30th high school reunion this past Saturday, which was incredibly fraught with
apprehension, not to mention wardrobe malfunctions. Who was to know that two weeks prior to this event my wardrobe would turn into a closetful of clothing that my grandmother wouldn't be caught dead in? Or that the one pair of hip, properly fitting trousers I owned would be eaten by a gas tank cover?*

We got there and it was immediately okay. While checking in I turned and introduced myself to a classmate behind me. As my friend Louise said- "You will not recognize a single male from your class." It was true. It was fun to try to dredge up details with each of them. Not to say that there wasn't a table full of broad shouldered males who refused to get up and mingle, but as I said, they refused to get up and mingle so I didn't have to figure out how to talk to them..... 30 years later.

As a high school student I was relatively bright but different. I had tremendous deficits in math and really loved the arts. Because of that I tracked along with the future non-academic sorts in math. And the powers that be saw Art as an extra so there was no college track art classes. Signing up for Auto Body was the same as signing up for Painting III. Not trying to pass too much judgment here- just saying that I got to know a lot more of the student body than most.

One particular classmate sidled up to me- trying to place me exactly. We realized we shared airspace in Graphic Arts (which fell into Shop classes- go figure?) and advanced Sculpture. A few of us were looking at the old year book photos when this guy slyly says to me "Oh her- she had the best boobs in the whole class."

Sigh..... Not that I was offended. I have heard the word "boobs" once or twice in my life. I suppose I could have played a lady and told him how crass he was, but I suspect he knew he was crass. My disappointment is that, as in High School, my face still says "I am your best friend. Talk to me like your locker room buddy."

Whatever..... maybe in my next life I'll come back as my sister Abby, who looks like a woman even in a ridiculous hat.

Cosmic Return

2009-11-22T16:39:00.009-05:00

I fell in love. It was both fast and slow paced. It was one of those vacation flings while I was out in Albuquerque a few weeks ago. We met on a Thursday in a casual way- just a quick glance across a room. On Saturday we got together, but it didn't seem right so I didn't pursue it. By Monday morning it had become a full blown obsession, but I was on the plane back home.

Despite my qualms that they were a little too snug I was on the phone by Tuesday to tell my boyfriend "go buy me those pants! They are in the back right. They are corduroy but they look like velvet. They are Christopher something brand. They are half price. I must have them. Size 6- accept no substitutes."

He arrived home two weeks later with the trousers. They sat on my bureau wrapped in tissue and a little bit of regret. Perhaps they were too tight? Who was I to think I could fit into a size 6. Perhaps when I tried them on I was just having a thin day? Will I look ridiculous?

I finally put them on one morning and they fit like a glove. The corduroy was so fine, so black, so soft and amazingly did not pick up every stray white hair from my dog. This was meant to be. I wore them once. I wore them twice. They didn't stretch out and hang droopily off my butt. I LOVED these pants.

But the third time is a charm. I was meeting a client after hours on a Saturday afternoon. I wanted to look professional but Saturday relaxed. I paired the beautiful black trousers with a lapis lazuli three quarter sleeve blouse. I looked great. I assured my boyfriend I would be home by 5. The clients were difficult but engaged. I am sure my outfit tipped the scales- especially those pants. But the clients didn't leave until 5. I raced out the door of the gallery and jumped in my car. Damn! I need gas. I am racing to fill the tank but the pump isn't working. I screeched over to the next tank and fill up. I grab my receipt but noticed that someone had left theirs. I fatefully ripped it off and threw it in the trash and then turned to get into my car. And ran into my gas tank door.

The clip tore through the beautiful, soft fabric of my pants and into my hip. I was bleeding and pissed. I had only worn them three times and they were gone- nothing tears quite like corduroy. It is designed to open up like a Ziploc bag. Repair was not an option. I was so pissed that I couldn't even call my boyfriend to say I was running late. I would have bitten his head off. I hated the whole world for wrecking those trousers.

I suppose I got to look good three times. Well- what is it that they say? Pride goeth before a fall.

"How's The Water?"*

2009-11-17T21:20:00.013-05:00

I became smitten with David Foster Wallace a few years back when I read this brief couple of paragraphs by him in the Atlantic Monthly.

I had never read anything by him before seeing this cover essay asking 100 of our country's great thinkers to give us something to think about. It clearly did just that. His succinct essay stopped me cold and I wondered why no one had bothered to say this before. I also wondered who this man was.

I got one of his books- A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again. His writing is dense and not easily digested. Keep your dictionary handy. If you want to take a look, again, at those things we take for granted.... he is the writer for you.

He killed himself at the age of 46 after a long struggle with clinical depression. It was sad, but almost like a freight train bearing down on you- an inevitable conclusion. It really puts a focus on the tragedy of mental illness (?)......and such a loss for humanity.

Don't know why he has popped into my head again. Look him up. Keep him alive.

*From his address at a Kenyon College graduation.

Stop Making Sense

2009-11-11T05:39:00.009-05:00

It's not easy being green.

I ran into an old client on the street the other day and we did a quick catch up conversation. He told me he had just gotten back from South Africa.

"Wow! How was it?"

"Weird. Despite the end of apartheid there is still this thing hanging over the country."

I told him about another friend who had gone to South Africa recently who had a similar observation- official discrimination has ended but the different races do not mingle on a social level.

He ended with "We are so lucky in this country. We just take it for granted."

I know that things are not peaches and cream in this country as far as discrimination goes, but there is a broad acceptance of different people- or at least an abhorrence of crude and ignorant displays of intolerance. There is also room for conversation about acceptance/inclusion. I watch from the sidelines, bemused, as gay people fight for the right to marry. (This "right" isn't as desirable as one might think- I am not a huge fan of this legal institution.) This is a conversation that never would have taken place 20 years ago. I think of my clients who openly refer to their partners. The shame and stigma of this acknowledgement seems to have vanished. I was also pleasantly pleased by the near seamless mixing of Hispanics and Anglos in New Mexico during a recent visit. When I lived there 20 years ago the resentments were palpable between the two races.

There are still many instances of discrimination, hatred and even violence against those who are different. I think, as a country, we don't recognize how things have changed over time. We have every right to be proud of our continued struggle towards universal rights.

Bash on!

Polenta.....Pudding?

2009-11-09T17:51:00.008-05:00

I use to be an okay cook but my skills have deteriorated over the years. First I was married to a man who thought that Chef Salad was the height of cuisine and now I live with a man who cooks far better than I have ever dreamed of. I still enjoy cooking... I am just no damned good at it. So while my boyfriend is away for a few weeks to explore our vast country I have taken to blaspheming his kitchen.

I am celiac, thus cannot eat wheat/gluten. Pasta is right out. I have been wanting to try Polenta Lasagna for a while as a way to get my cheesy goodness spot satisfied. I had all the ingredients I thought appropriate but was too cavalier to look up a recipe. Really how hard could it be? Polenta, sauce, fresh mozzarella, pesto-right? I layered, baked and awaited my righteous reward.

I suppose there are cookbooks for a reason, like say, to tell you that a bunch of moist ingredients will blend into a monolithic pan of ingredient. It didn't taste too bad but there is something about the word "lasagna" that evokes distinct layers of different textured items. This had turned into a loaf of very cheesy, slightly tomatoey polenta. In and of itself- not terrible.

I had it for dinner two nights in a row and then had it for lunch today (the downside of cooking big complicated dishes is eating them for several days.) I mulled about what had gone awry. I realized it wasn't the food, it was my attitude. If I stopped thinking of it as lasagna it became more palatable. When I thought of it as a lovely, cheesy side dish I loved it a little bit more. But what would I call it- polenta pudding?

I am guessing there is a larger life lesson here.

Unsettled

2009-11-05T05:14:00.007-05:00

I took this photo last fall on Route 103 in the middle of nowhere. It is one of those visual non-sequitors that I love. Santa in Autumn?

I have been feeling unsettled as of late and I can't quite put my finger on it. But I do recognize the symptoms as they have cropped up for me periodically in my life. I keep buying stuff as if I am trying to fill a hole. I am aware of it but I still allow myself to do it because it tends to run its course after a certain dollar amount..... and when I realize it doesn't solve any problems.

But in the meantime...... my wardrobe has gotten a serious updating!

Beautiful Fall

2009-10-18T12:50:00.004-04:00

Today is one of those under appreciated fall days. The kind that everyone gives short shrift to. It was grey and dreary- not even a breeze to portend the rain & snow heading our way this afternoon. The leaves have turned russet after their gaudy fall display. Everyone seems to have retreated inside. I love the damp coolness...... Welcome winter!

Killer Dog

2009-10-16T06:08:00.005-04:00

I chose to park in a slightly different place that morning, thus changing my walk into work routine ever so slightly. Some construction has filled up the small side street where my business is located so I was a little distracted by the internal cursing in my head. "Why don't they ever think about the businesses they are disrupting? Would it kill them to not park all three major pieces of heavy equipment right in front of my entrance? If all 4 city workers choose to eat lunch on my stoop again complete with folding chairs and coolers spread out I am going to have to say something."

I barely noticed the small tug at the end of the leash tethering my precious little pooch Henry, but I did notice the shark like snap and cloud of feathers around him. Crunch, crunch. He was rolling the still peeping body of a sparrow around in his mouth trying to get a little traction to swallow the mouthful of bird. I don't know what I was thinking but I wrestled the bird from his mouth and left it on the sidewalk. Did I really think it would make it after such a mauling?

I know it is the way of the world... not so much eat or be eaten, but eat AND be eaten. There is many an animal in the woods who would make a quick snack of Henry or even me. But to be present at the dispatching is a little troubling. Was it cruel? No, it was swift and sure. It was also all instinct on his part. Food presented itself and he partook. I ,too, am a meat eater and understand that it means one less sentient creature in order to stoke my body. It is just one of those thoughts that rolls around and around in my head, not making sense.

And then I had chicken for dinner.

I Need Some Of This

2009-10-10T04:45:00.009-04:00

A couple of weeks ago I planned to meet my friend Annie for a girl's night in. I went to Manchester early to catch a show at the Currier Museum, then wasted an hour walking my dog around the old neighborhood before meeting Annie. I love the old homes and density of Manchester. I ended up at Wagner Park, which most people call Pretty Park. It is pretty- very formal and peaceful with an array of evergreens, paths and lovely iron benches.

My insides have been a swirl lately so Henry & I decided to finish up with a little meditation and sat on a bench. And right on the bench was this stone which reads "Peace is in You." It made me so happy. Someone left it there and I found it! And I could use a little of what it was espousing. I practically giggled.

I went to the other benches to see if there were more stones..... and there were! I picked up three more and put them in my pocket. Then I sat down to contemplate my bounty. "You are a pig for keeping this wealth all to yourself," I thought. I reluctantly placed the stones back on the benches where I found them, keeping only my red stone. "But you really like them and they mean something to you," I thought again. Sigh, how could I keep them and share the bounty? I went and picked up one more to give to my friend Annie and left the others for someone else.

I hope someone who needed to find those stones found theirs. I hope it was as meaningful to them as it was to me. Even if it wasn't meaningful, maybe it will bring them meaning some day.

Martha Graham

2009-10-04T05:10:00.009-04:00

Henry performing a very Martha Graham-esque spin & swirl.

We went to see the Martha Graham Dance Company this past Thursday at the Dana Center at St Anselm College. It was a very educational experience. Normally that phrase has all sorts of negative connotations- as if you were being force fed information. In this instance education and dance worked well together.

The Artistic Director, Janet Eilber, spoke between each dance, which was also interspersed with historic films of Martha Graham herself dancing. Her first dance was in 1926. Graham was the originator of expressive modern dance, as we know it today. She used fabric and hair to accentuate the movements of the body and was not afraid of using awkward movements to convey an emotion. Graham was an American original and huge part of our cultural heritage. For these reasons it becomes important to "learn" about her. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

The dancers were good- performing historic pieces. Some of the dances felt dated- a little too melodramatic for modern sensibilities. Others felt fresh and as pertinent as any modern dance out there.

I suppose the biggest shocker for me was that Copland's Appalachian Spring was commissioned by Graham to create a wholly American dance. Having studied music as a young girl this tidbit of information was divorced from my performing it with a band. Graham also used Isamu Noguchi to design the sets for Appalachian Spring... and here I thought he was just a faboo furniture designer for Herman Miller and sometime sculptor.

Clearly I still have a lot to learn....

Channeling My Inner Princess

2009-09-30T20:51:00.004-04:00

I visited a friend last week and she asked the simple question- "Don't you ever do something without worrying what someone else will think?" I honestly answered "no." Bad answer.

Somehow the question rolled the conversation around to what you wear. Why can't we just be like little girls and wear the things that make us the happiest. We discussed throwing a party with the theme of "Princess" where everyone just puts on their favorite clothes with total disregard for matching, appropriateness and propriety. My role model would definitely be my four year old niece featured in the gallery of photos to the left..... she does a pretty mean monkey face.

The next morning I regarded my jewelry selection which included many rhinestone treasures from the boyfriend's vintage collection. I love looking at them but rarely wear them. Throwing caution and conventional taste to the winds I put on two pink rhinestone selections to adorn my periwinkle cashmere sweater.

My 8 AM meeting started with compliments for the jewelry and kept on up through the day. People loved the pin in particular- which is a real knock-out piece! I am thinking I need to put conventional tastes aside and pull out my red shoes and rhinestone jewelry a little more.

Viva La Princess!

Minor Rule of Life

2009-09-30T05:53:00.003-04:00

Henry in his warm weather sleeping position. In the colder months he curls up into a fur muffin.

I have a little rule for myself: never walk past my dog without reaching down to pat him. It is not quite as obsessive as running back to the house to check if I turned off the coffee pot or tapping on a door frame three times before entering, but a rule nevertheless. Sometimes I forget and have to turn around to complete the task.

Why? You might ask........ if I didn't do it I would feel it was an opportunity lost. That could be an opportunity lost to express my affection for my dog or just a more general opportunity to reach out (literally) and change a moment.

Or I suffer from a mild form of ocd.

Cooking with Gas

2009-09-26T20:26:00.000-04:00

Last night I left work a little early to make chile rellenos for my annual Mexican/birthday Fiesta in January. If you are a Capricorn you either embrace the season and throw a sliding party or you search the cuisine of the Southern Hemisphere to find an appropriate way to pretend the weather outside is balmy. As a young girl sliding parties seemed adequate. Now tequila & tamales seems a far better way to go. But, I digress....

We finally had a hard frost a couple of nights ago necessitating the garden purge. All fruits and vegetables were picked and shuttled to our house for safekeeping. This means everything needs to be eaten, frozen, cooked.... or composted. The poblano chile crop tipped the scales at about 1/3 bushel. That's a lot of chiles!

It is also a lot of chile rellenos. I roasted, skinned,and deseeded for about three hours. The on to the actual assembling. I stuffed them with Monterrey jack cheese, dipped them in egg and then dredged them in corn meal.... for a gluten free relleno. I fried. They cooled. Then I wrapped them all between layers of plastic wrap and into the freezer. My party will be in January.... it almost makes you long for winter!

Bon Apetit!

I Had The Time of My Life

2009-09-20T06:37:00.006-04:00

He isn't Patrick Swayze, but....

The other day at work my young colleague announced "I just have to say this. I am so sad that Patrick Swayze died. I just loved him in Dirty Dancing."

Really now. I did some math and then asked her if she was even born when it was made.

"Two years before- in 1985."

How did she know when this movie was made?!?!?

"Oh, I have a copy of it. All of my friends do."

I confessed I had never seen the movie so she generously lent it to me. Last night I watched it. The critics were right. It was a bad movie- hokey plots, bad lines, predictable outcomes. But I can see why the movie has staying power. Patrick Swayze is every girl's dream of the misunderstood, bad boy who really is noble, intuitive, sensitive and don't forget "Oh my God, look at that body!" While the movie was undeniably steamy, there was still a lot of innocence to it. The steamiest scenes were always on the dance floor. The film made me smile- right down to the oft quoted "Nobody puts Baby in a corner" and Swayze's athletic leap off a stage. I don't think a woman in the world would kick him out of bed for eating crackers.

I wonder how I had managed to never see this iconic film. Where was I in 1987? Perhaps I had just moved to Taos, New Mexico and was too hip to partake of the death knell of disco. But my youth is complete now that I have seen Dirty Dancing. And I, too, am sad that Patrick Swayze died.

Back on the No-Wheat Wagon

2009-09-15T03:31:00.005-04:00

"Damn!"

So for a brief couple of months my body was all copacetic with the ingestion of all things gluten. After almost 10 years of intolerance of the stuff I went on a bender. I was eating bagels! And real pasta! Cookies! I suppose if it had tasted better I would have eaten whole bags of flour.

Of course- old habits die hard. I couldn't seem to remember that I could make sandwiches with bread instead of rice cakes. I continued to eat my cheese and crackers without the crackers.

Then things started going a little haywire about a month ago. My lower legs started itching wildly, then my torso. Red dots broke out and I had scratched my legs raw in some areas. My knee and ankle joints hurt to the point where I curtailed my walking. These things could be chalked up to an over active imagination prone to hypochondria. Then the other shoe dropped.... constant diarrhea.

I had a final bagel and called it quits. I was back on the no-wheat wagon. Within two weeks my symptoms have disappeared. With a quick shrug of the shoulders I have accepted my fate. I am going to miss all that good stuff, but worse things in life have happened. I have already been through the experimenting stage to see what makes a good gluten free muffin, how to pack a satisfying lunch and how to find GF snacks in convenience stores for the occasional hunger attack. I'll live.

I suppose I should be thankful for my brief reprieve.

A Quick Look-See

2009-09-07T13:19:00.004-04:00

Nothing too special going on the garden beyond its usual wonderfulness. Although it could be mistaken for Versailles, what with all the weeding, sculpting & primping I have been doing. I am still loving this new sculpture.

My hydrangea didn't bloom very well this year. I experimented by cutting it all back to the ground this past fall. That could be its problem. Or the lack of sunshine coupled with too much rain this summer could be the cause of its non-performance. Not a huge loss (like the Rose Chafer Beetles eating my Peonies), but something to be noted.

This is the best Hosta I own. Its gold color, seer-sucker leaves and sheer size make it a knock out. I wish I knew what variety it was, but many of my Hostas were saved an ignominious death in a formerly well tended garden going quickly to ruin.

I love fall.

Ode to the Garden's Bounty

2009-09-07T13:07:00.005-04:00

It is that time of year when everything is looking mighty tempting in the boyfriend's garden. The tomato plants were really whipped by a blight from all the rain but still managed to produce. They look a bit pathetic with so few leaves but are covered with the most important thing- big, juicy tomatoes!

These are some winter squash that are as big as bowling balls. I LOVE winter squash almost as much as I love my new Helenium!

The fenced off area where we keep the compost operation doubles as a grape arbor. This year the vines have crept right across the top creating a green gate way. It looks in to some old broccoli plants. If I squint my eyes a bit I can pretend I am in a French cottage garden.

Every year the boyfriend worries that the Poblano Peppers will not pull through, but this year looks to be another bumper crop. They are a favorite of mine. Their earthy and slightly piquant flavor makes the best Chile Rellenos.

He grows lots of things just for me- beets are one of them. They are a lot of work to prepare and cook, but they are a childhood food memory for me that makes me smile. These are the size of softballs!

I think I'll go eat!

New Love

2009-09-07T09:33:00.007-04:00

I was consulting with a neighbor/friend, who happens to be one of my gallery artists (whose show is opening this coming Friday- shameless plug!), about extending the garden at our local library. We both love gardening and are quite serious about it. Perhaps one of these days I will do a post on her charming gardens.

After a little poking in the soil to determine that tree roots will keep us from doing several things, she suggested that we do a little field trip to a traffic circle in a neighboring town. Just 200 feet up the road she had an even better suggestion. "There is a tiny little nursery called Robert's Greenhouse in a tiny little town. " The nursery is so tiny that it doesn't even have its own website. So away to Webster, NH we drove.

It had a field full of sheep panting in the September sun to keep my dog occupied and a fine selection of good looking plants. Despite the freeze on my plant buying budget I broke down and bought this Red & Gold Sneezeweed- I prefer the more sophisticated name of Helenium. Its beautiful velvety red flowers made me weak in the knees.

It took me two days to decide where its permanent home would be..... next to my low blue spruce. The rusty red is a perfect foil for the blue green. I am in love. Who knew at this age?

Night Walk

2009-09-04T20:24:00.005-04:00

This time of year is so pretty as the day turns into night. Fog rolls in. The skies are so clear and full of stars. The humidity no longer weighs down every step.

This is the field next to my house looking towards Bald Sunapee, my very still windmill and the moon illuminating my driveway.

Ahhh..... fall!

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

2009-09-04T06:41:00.003-04:00

The boyfriend has been pestering me to customize his old beater pick-up with agricultural plates for quite some time. He uses it to pick up hay, manure, etc.

Looks pretty speedy- aye? Covers up some rust too.

The End Game

2009-08-29T17:44:00.013-04:00

I was going to take another photo because this one is blurry. I probably forgot the flash. Somehow I thought it was apropos.

I went to see my new dentist. Nothing too terribly wrong was discovered. I need to have two old fillings replaced, but no big deal.

My gums are in decent condition too, with no signs of periodontal disease- Phew! They stick a probe in between your gums and teeth and do measurements of the "pockets" all the time muttering numbers to themselves "1,2,1,1,1,1,2,3,2,3,1,1." It sounds like an oceanographer doing a sounding for depths of the Continental Shelf or something.

But there were some recommendations.

Despite the good readings she said that I could reverse the "3's" with more regular flossing. She also noted that I had some self-inflicted gum recession due to overly vigorous and improper back and forth motion with my brush. She highly recommended an electric toothbrush.

My whole life I have avoided any sort of electrical appliance for a task that can just as easily be done manually. The selling of these ridiculous appliances somehow feels both gimicky and like a conspiracy of the electric company to create more demand- can openers, food bag sealers, air freshener dispensers- Jeesh!

On the other hand, I feel like I am reaching the end game. I am not old, but I am not young either. If this electric toothbrush will keep my teeth and gums healthier than I will swallow my pride, stand at my sink every morning with a vibrating stick stuck in my mouth and chalk it up to progress. I need to preserve what I have.

Next stop- eye exam.

Mistakes Are Good!

2009-08-29T17:25:00.008-04:00

This post could be construed as a direct follow up to my previous post.

Two Autumns ago in a fit of ~~laziness~~ experimentation I decided to use the lawn mower to put this large patch of Clara Curtis Mums to bed for the year. The following gardening season I had a rather sparse and unusually uneven display. In my defense, Clara Curtis Mums are famous for their raggedy displays- they grow at uneven heights and bloom in a very patchy pattern.

But this year- behold! The patch is almost uniformly in bloom and at a (relatively) consistent height.

The problem with this method is it only gives you a good display every other year. Or perhaps this patch required the invigorating buzz cut? Perhaps I'll have a lovely display for a few years running?

I feel an experiment coming in.

Failure of Imagination

2009-08-26T20:28:00.008-04:00

I have a friend, maybe even friends, who are dealing with big decisions. It is heart breaking to hear about and watch. The anguish is sometimes too much for me.

Like a lot of women, I want to make it better, but can't. To top it all off I am not a particularly demonstrative person so I am guessing my friends look at me as the rational one. I tend to offer solutions to help people through the maze.... no doubt exposing the two semesters of graduate school when I thought I wanted to be a counselor.

It all makes me think of decisions gone awry in my own life. I think some choices were due to a real failure of imagination. I have made choices I can only regret; paths not taken because I couldn't envision the possible outcome. I have to wonder why I chose things that didn't take advantage of the most I have to offer... and the best that I could be.

My fallback position is the status quo.

Love My Dog

2009-08-22T06:24:00.002-04:00

When my dog is happy his tail doesn't just wag. It goes in circles like a helicopter- like when he is hunting mice or sees me walk down the stairs every morning.

How can you not love that?

Of Art, Fashion and Gardening

2009-08-18T21:29:00.020-04:00

THE BEGINNING OF MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT:

This is a photo of the garden about a mile from my house. The photo was taken about a year and some ago. The gentleman who planted the garden finally made the choice to put himself in assisted living. A middle aged couple bought the house late this spring. Immediately the blasphemy began.

First let me describe what makes this garden so special. Its maker was so restrained in his design focusing on textures, specifically the textures of evergreens: picea, mugo pines, dwarf spruce, golden thujas, juniper. The shades of green- from blue to yellow- were stunning. He then created sparkle by dropping in heaths and heathers. The dainty blossoms of pink & purple were about all the excitement this garden could stand. It was elegance defined- and all by an amateur gardener!

The new owners' blasphemy included digging out a stand of red twigged dogwood, which provided winter interest, to put in a circle of white phlox, Star Gazer Lilies, birdbath & gazing ball. Each of these things on their own, or perhaps in a different setting, would be fine. In this garden of cool contrasts and restrained elegance it felt an awful lot like like bringing a Vegas showgirl to a society cotillion.

A MINOR DIGRESSION:

The other day I had three older women come into my gallery- a private reunion for some Wellesley roommates. Each of them were dressed so superbly. They were each aware of their body types, body limitations and what might come across as too trendy as opposed to stylish. Their accessories were perfect. They has the most beautiful jewelry- not too much! Just the right amount. Even their make up was not noticeable next to the fine shine of their natural assets.

Where do women learn to dress like this? Wellesley?

WHAT'S THIS GOT TO DO WITH ART?:

For years I have pondered the differences are between good art and bad art. Don't expect the answer in this post. Philosophers have been pondering it for millennium. Don't expect a Podunk NH art dealer to answer the big question.

I have noticed that good artists apply their paint (or whatever medium) with confidence. The tentative stroke is for those who haven't spent time, time, time developing a masterful one. Please don't ask me to describe a good stroke. I have had this conversation with many artists I respect who are equally mystified by trying to describe it. We fall back on the old trope of "I know it when I see it."

Along with the confidence in knowing how to apply one's medium comes the confidence to know when to stop. The amateur cannot resist fixing just one more thing. This almost always comes at the expense of the painting. It becomes over worked and muddy, the strokes become labored and wooden, the frustration mounts and it all becomes clear on the canvas. A good painting feels effortless and will sing with a sort of internal vibrancy.

TYING IT ALL TOGETHER:

I aspire to achieve the heights in all of these categories- art, fashion and gardening. I don't think I am shallow but that visual things give me huge pleasure and satisfaction. The world is interpreted through my eyes. I don't think many people see me as particularly fashionable, but I look for clothes that complement me and make me comfortable and feel good. I would like to think I cut a reasonably stylish figure. Some people might think me an art snob and others an art novice. I enjoy it at my level but am not afraid to reach for the next. My gardening is probably my most wooden achievement. Like many amateur artists I get caught up in the details at the expense of the big picture.

As I have stated before refinement come with paring back rather than adding more. Edit!

Edging Redux

2009-08-18T06:06:00.007-04:00

So here are the images of my hard day's labor. I only edged about 1/4 of this garden but it is the most visible and cherished section.

Edging involves taking the edge of the garden out about 6-8" from its current edge and then shaking all of the precious soil out of the sod. Sometimes this requires allowing the sod to bake in the sun to dry out the soil so that it shakes loose more easily. After a day of this my hands cramp up from clawing at the sod to rip it up and banging/shaking it to within an inch of its life. 93 degree weather is perfect for this sort of task- sweating aside.

It is a constant battle as the lawn is always encroaching on the garden, but an extremely satisfying chore- for me. (Some people might think it was work.) It is very clear where the lawn ends and the garden begins. The right curves are also essential- they add to the overall look of the garden. Ultimately mowing will be easier too as I won't have to be so cautious about what I am brushing up against and giving an inadvertent haircut. All the plants are set safely back.

Of course, being on my hands and knees at eye level with all of my foliar friends allows me to see and then pluck every weed that stands in between me and perfect order.

Onward Christian Soldiers! Although I think it is cleanliness that is next to Godliness, not weed-freeliness.

Edging

2009-08-16T19:13:00.001-04:00

Too tired to take a new photo- this is from 2008.

Edged for most of the day. 'Nuff said. Too tired to write.

Editing

2009-08-15T20:48:00.006-04:00

Black-Eyed Susans hiding amidst the yarrow.

It is that time of year when gardens can look their tattiest. The heat is oppressive and (usually) there isn't enough rain to keep things lush. All the plants are tired of kicking up the chlorophyll to keep their leaves a deep, dark green- instead they are a spotty yellow.

Once again- due to a summer of abnormally high rain fall- things are not too bad. The lawn is thick and lovely. The plants are still standing erect. My personal battle- Black-Eyed Susans.

I have always had a problem with pulling a plant in the wrong location that is otherwise healthy and desirable. It seems to have a right to live and blossom. The Black Eyed Susans grow wild. They pop up in my yard and garden. Today was a day of ruthlessly pulling them out. Order was restored and I am happy.

The garden was beginning to have that overall sameness with lack of definition. Everywhere you looked was another sunny yellow flower with a brown eye. Editing is hard but in the end the product is easier to look at and understand.

Love My Dog

2009-08-14T20:35:00.005-04:00

I love that when my dog has fallen asleep before I remove his harness and collar he won't lift a paw to help me. it is like trying to take a sleeping child out of their clothes and put them into pajamas- dead weight.

I suppose this might pass for a maternal feeling- aye?

Toad Jerky

2009-08-07T06:56:00.005-04:00

Pardon my hiatus.

I have been working on training my dog quite a bit recently. With the aid of a harness I have gotten him to stop pulling the leash while we walk. His other annoying habit is to go berserk whenever he sees another dog- in particular Yellow Labs.

I am not sure about his previous life but Yellow Labs must have played a big and sinister role in it because he twists, turns, snarls and barks when he sees them. And we see one almost every morning on our walk. It was a good opportunity to train him. It has taken almost a year but I can get him to sit and just whine a little when this dog goes by. It isn't perfect but it is a huge improvement.

My next goal is to get him to come when called. I figured this would take a treat so delicious that his head would snap if I pulled one out of my pocket. I bought some freeze dried 100% liver treats- but they only made him throw up. As you can see by the photo milk bones and Rodz Pawz Chicken Treats leave him cold. The thing he seems to really respond to is road kill.

I was relaying my training dilemma to my brother. I said that road kill seems to be Henry's favorite treat. He suggested I was missing a huge marketing opportunity by not developing a really stinky treat made from road kill or better yet, horse manure- Henry's two favorite food groups.

As we were walking the other morning Henry was able to snarf up an old dried up toad from the road before I could stop him and the perfect name for this training treat leaped into my head- Toad Jerky. Toad Jerky anyone?

Across A Crowded Room....

2009-07-13T20:58:00.004-04:00

I was astride my trusty steed. The sun raking obliquely across the field of oats (or maybe not). When suddenly our eyes locked and we both stood still. Unable to speak.... to name what was happening to the both of us. It was, it was..... it was.....

The perfect combination: Butterfly Blue Delphinium and Purple Smoke Bush. I had to turn off the engine of my riding mower, dismount and get a closer look. Electric blue and deep, dusky purple.

Thank you Oscar Hammerstein.

Two Girls Eating

2009-07-11T11:33:00.005-04:00

My friend, Michelle, is an interpreter for the historic Wentworth Coolidge Mansion in Portsmouth. We took a lunch break together- for which she provided lunch. I am apt to eat peanut butter on bananas or whatever is easy & available. Michelle packs fruit salad, chocolate and Manchego cheese.

Now that is a lunch fit for girls!

That is Michelle's "What the hell are you doing? " face.

Elimination

2009-07-06T19:09:00.017-04:00

Sometimes too much is, well, too much.

Louise and her friend Lori came over to my garden expressly to rape and pillage, but only in the friendliest of ways. Lori recently lost her garden to a divorce and I am all about helping women to get their gardening mojo back after something as undesirable as a divorce and all of the financial set backs that go with them.

So I let go of a lot of day lilies, silver king artemesia, catmint, campmanula glomerata (clustered bell flower to those who flunked Latin), Egyptian onion, echinacea, my beloved Coronation Gold yarrow and on and on. Although Lori drew the line at hosta.... "I like everything but hosta" which sounded suspiciously like Tigger announcing that Tiggers like everything but thistle.

Where I am going with this is that I am always so selfish about my plants. I have a hard time digging, dividing and then giving away. Just ask my boyfriend. I won't even let him cut flowers from the garden. But after letting go of some of my plants I was surprised that my garden didn't look denuded. As a matter of fact, It looked refreshed and even under control.

I took the hint so the next day I moved a few ladies mantle and hostas from the front of the house to a new garden, ripped out some egyptian onions that were in the wrong place. It felt less packed in and the individual plants were allowed to shine.

So many gardeners fall in love with this plant and that plant and cease to see how they work together. Plants are stuffed in where ever the fit. I am slowly creating swathes of certain plants to make a larger visual display- meant to be seen from the distances that my yard offers. It means eliminating things that don't live up to their promise or don't look good or just look too meager. It is a lesson I occasionally brush up against in the rest of my life too.

In the words of a Scottish museum guard to me after I elbowed my way to front of a line (unknowingly)- "Bash on, lassie. Bash on." And don't forget to let go.

Time For A Tune Up

2009-07-02T21:06:00.002-04:00

Sometimes when my dog is walking it looks like his front tie-rods are shot. Do cars even have tie-rods anymore?

Falling Off the Wagon, So To Speak....

2009-06-28T19:22:00.009-04:00

If you need some great photos to illustrate this post- go here. But I suspect this is an image we all keep deep in our minds... right next to nude celebrities.

For almost ten years being a celiac has defined my life, or at the very least defined my diet. I have been unable to eat wheat, oatmeal, rye, spelt, barley or any of the other grass based grains. Admittedly I am self diagnosed... but only after multiple specialists either gave me a perfunctory once over and announced IBD or others who ran me through a battery of upper GI's and any other humiliating probe they could think of before shrugging their shoulders and saying "IBD." Cutting gluten out of my diet had given me the greatest amount of relief from my symptoms.

In mid-April I had yet another major (for me) medical crisis and had to have a tooth pulled. The tooth had grown into my sinus where it had caused an infection in my jaw. There was a good chance this had been an infection for quite sometime. Within days I noticed that things were, shall we say, quite regular. Over the years I had experienced occasional, albeit brief periods of digestive normalcy but to experience such an extended period of things working as the textbooks say they should - unheard of!

Days, weeks and then months passed without terrible pain in my stomach. My curiosity piqued I tried a bagel. I waited 4 days. Then I tried another. Still no problem. Since then I have tried any number of things which usually have me running in the other direction- pasta, bread, cookies.

We have started incorporating wheat products into our evening meals.... and one of those meals I have dreamed of for years is Macaroni & Cheese. This is a lowly pleasure from childhood- neither fancy nor precious. It was served frequently but was always welcome. Tonight the boyfriend & I made it together....

It has been so long since I cooked anything like this I have forgotten how it is made. He definitely had his ideas about how it should be done. While there is no such thing as bad Mac & Cheese- there are only degrees of goodness, I have a fondness for my mother's way of cooking everything to just shy of burnt. The top should be very crunchy and the brown of mahogany. The interior should be thick & cheesy.

I think gluten/wheat does not agree with me 100%... sort of the way I get canker sores if I eat too much citrus, but it is definitely back in my diet. I think I shall start experimenting with the best Mac & Cheese Evar'. The better to sooth my dainty stomach.

If Some Is Good, More Is Better

2009-06-27T17:55:00.000-04:00

I have addressed garden ornamentation recently so I thought I would write a little ode to my boyfriend's style of ornamentation.

His ornamentation philosophy runs towards those things that move and thus scare away vegetable & fruit predators ... like these saber tooth Cedar Waxwings that think domesticated strawberries, which are in a convenient patch, are much easier hunting than those little, indigenous ones that are spread hither and thither over our acreage.

This is the strawberry patch which has a spinning poly-Cardinal and a poly-Peacock that sort of limps as it lost a few tail feathers. The garden also has two dangling, plastic, spinny things and a faux owl. As you can see we have also posted Henry out there to work for his dinner by keeping any marauding chipmunks at bay.

The boyfriend's other penchant is for gargoyles. These serve to keep out the evil spirits- both in general and for the gardens. We have them inside the house too. Actually the big guy in the patch of Campanula Glomerata is my personal gargoyle purchased pre-boyfriend so clearly I also felt a need for a little spiritual look out.

Poor, Poor Peonies

2009-06-24T05:31:00.005-04:00

When flowers only bloom once a season, albeit for two weeks, they become a much anticipated event. When something interferes with the annual bloom, it becomes a source of despair.

This spring several of my peony plants developed buds that just stopped growing and then proceeded to dry up. Sometimes whole plants were affected, sometimes just portions.

My hunt on line indicated two possible causes. One is botrytis blight, but that supposedly affects the whole plant. My peonies only have affected buds.

The other is a condition called bud blast. This can be caused by a couple of things, but the most likely cause of my problem is that we had frosts up until late-May. This can interfere with the growth of the bud.

I suppose it is better to suffer the Horseman of the Apocalypse Death than the Horseman of the Apocalypse Disease.

Night Out

2009-06-21T17:24:00.005-04:00

I don't go out very often- for various reasons. Chief among those reasons is that I always have my dog with me and if it is too hot or too cold I can't leave him in the car. I don't do this often so I don't feel too guilty about abandoning my little muffin to the privations of a 4 seated vehicle with complete protection from the elements and any marauding tigers.

After the last opening at my gallery Michelle and I stepped across the street to Hermanos for a nibble and a tipple. There was a big Don McLean concert at the CCA and it is motorcycle week in NH so service was mighty slow. It took forever to get a drink and even longer to get some nachos, but, you know what? I didn't care. Michelle & I had a lot of catching up to do. If they had served us any faster we wouldn't have been able to drive home.

We laughed, we gestured, we made fun of each others flaws, we used improper language and we laughed some more. It is good to do that once in a while with a female friend. I think both of us needed to leave it all behind for a few hours.

Then we made our way back to our cars. Michelle was shocked at Henry's level of neediness after a two hour break. There was whining, crying, jumping & licking. He wouldn't get out of my lap. It is a level of neediness that I wouldn't tolerate in any other being. Michelle took a picture of our reunion... and then a few of her pocketbook. She is so arty.

Only Skin Deep

2009-06-21T16:12:00.009-04:00

Perhaps rummaging around in my closet and finding a clay facial that was a gift from my sister Reta or perhaps it was another day of rain that inspired me to a day of self enhancement. Or perhaps it is the total neglect that I call my beauty regime that has forced me to spend a little time on myself. Whatever.

So this is the pore refining mask. It is some kind of diatomaceous earth that you mix with water and then slather on your pores, but not on your eye pores. They are very specific that it stay away from them, otherwise you can't see the stuff refining your other pores.

You don't really need to see the stuff working because you can feel it working. As it drys into a hard mask your lips are no longer able to move and your whole face starts to itch, but scratching just yields fingernails full of green clay. It must be working because it is uncomfortable. Another whatever- but I do think the green enhances the blue of my eyes.

Then on to my toes. It is probably better to have no polish than to go so long between touch ups that the outer two toes are missing most of it. While some might see this part of a woman's toilette as a bit of floofery, it is a must for a gardener if you plan to wear any sandals during the summer. Nails are permanently stained and dirt has gotten embedded so far underneath them that an orange stick must be employed to remove it. After the through cleaning I put on a couple of coats of OPI Outdoor Aphrodisiac. You can barely tell that I am a farm girl... just don't get too close. Yeah- I mean you, over there- with the foot fetish.

And voila! One beautiful girl... well maybe those legs have got to go. I can't think of a less flattering angle to photograph your legs from.

Day In The Life Of My Garden- June 16, 2009

2009-06-20T08:12:00.009-04:00

I know, I know ... it is already June 20th and I am posting pictures from the 16th. These poppies are pretty much gone by now but every morning this week I would look out the back window, through the rain, and look at them.

I came to the conclusion that orange is not much of a team player. It just doesn't go with anything and it is an awfully insistent color- Look at me! Look at me!

I do think the Husker Red Penstemon foliage manages to lend it a little elegance by toning down the whole display. There is also a dark purple lupine growing behind. (Oh yeah- I TOTALLY planned that!) I also just ignore the fact that the poppies are too loud and just love them for what they are.

Looking up the length of the garden is lovely right now. The Baths Pink Dianthus and Veronica are lovely and the Coronation Yarrow will be pulling up right behind it- probably by the end of June.

With all the rain my Tim Rowan platter has been chock-a-block full. It is Henry's favorite watering station. I am not sure why. His bowl is always full in the house but he will go out for a spin around the yard and absolutely have to stop for a sip from this particular location. The platter looks good with the Snow In Summer in full swing.... creates a softness to counter the hard lines.

And an artsy fartsy photo of me in my new reflecting ball. I bought the silver globe at a yard sale for $1. This pedestal previously had a clear yellow lamp fixture globe.

This is my tongue in cheek approach to garden ornamentation. As a child I always loved these globes. Their beautiful colors (pink! blue! purple!) were so enticing. I associated them with wealth & taste- funny concepts for such a young girl, but being a Capricorn I am all about social climbing. And what better way to scale the social ladder than with tacky lawn ornaments? (Read about LYC's recent brush with garden ornaments here.)

This particular one was purchased 13 years ago at what my husband thought was a yard sale, but was really some one's zealously decorated yard. The owner finally parted with it for $25 claiming it was hand carved granite. The money was worth the right to retell the tale of our cement pedestal with affixed electrical fixture.

Like my poppies need any more tarting up......

Shoe Enabler

2009-06-19T11:56:00.004-04:00

My friend, Melinda, is a shoe enabler. She is always a stylin' babe and totally into accessories... which is my personal weakness. She came into my gallery yesterday wearing these Cole Haans to die for. They are a cross between naughty nurse & bowling shoes.

Can't quite figure out how to justify their purchase as I just got these not too long ago:

The Four Gardeners of the Apocalypse

2009-06-16T19:49:00.011-04:00

image citation: Whitney Cranshaw, Colorado State University, Bugwood.org

Today was spent weeding, puttering and moving this & that. A Mountain Laurel that has lingered on the edge of health is finally relocated to a shady grove where hopefully she'll fare better out of the full sun.

I also moved a monster hosta that was just about covering a specimen Dwarf Hinoki Cypress that I coveted for years and finally bought. The hosta was a beast! It must have weighed 50 pounds.

I checked in on my lupines which have been looking a little sad. They have been suffering from aphids. I am reluctant to use poisons so I was checking on line for a solution when the boyfriend jumped in with a few tips. Spray them off with water or just run you fingers down the stems to squish/knock the aphids off. Information on line confirmed that they will never find their way back onto the plant.... and I thought turkeys were stupid!

Running your hands down the stem is a mighty effective antidote.... but a little messy. My fingers turned green with smashed aphid innards, but it was a satisfying job to kill so many bugs so quickly. Whenever I start thinking that gardening is about sweetness and light a chore like this comes along to remind me of the Four Gardeners of the Apocolpyse - Bugs, Disease, Weeds & Drought. My fingers were goopy from aphids so I decided to squoosh a few Chafer Beetles too. They are easy to pick off as they don't have the inclination to interrupt their lovemaking to save their lives.

Well- time for dinner.... after I wash my hands.

Day in the Life of My Garden- June 15, 2009

2009-06-15T17:03:00.015-04:00

I returned to my gardens today to find them waterlogged and over run with weeds. It seems like it has been raining non-stop for two weeks ... which is only a slight exaggeration.

The big news in the garden is that the hole for the foundation of the windmill has been dug. It will be situated in our orchard for relative geographical proximity to all of our kitchen appliances which will want what it is making.

As you can see the trench to the house has been started and it is aimed towards my silver brocade artemesia- precipitating a vacation to the east for it for a few days while the electrical lines are put in- then right back to its previously scheduled growing program. I think it can handle it, but I will have words with the electrician about coming anywhere near my
monster Baptisia- the envy of many a gardening friend.

This a picture of the boyfriend who supervised and did quite a bit of the finish digging. It took him away from the important task of getting plantlings into the ground, but also took his mind off the most recent infestation of Rose Chafer Beetles.

Despite the sogginess and weediness there is also a certain loveliness to a very green, lush garden. A side benefit being that the coolness has extended the lifespan of my peonies & poppies. Pictured here is my Lady's Mantle- incomparable in bouquets and for the way water forms the most perfect little droplets on their leaves.

This is an unidentified Veronica that I inherited. It might be Crater Lake Blue. The color is stunning. I have it next to Lamb's Ear and Bath's Pinks.

Here is my Scarlet O'Hara Peony- a lovely single with a broad yellow center. This beautiful plant has made a few moves with me... graciously I might add. She tends to fade a little if it is too sunny while she blooms.

And finally a shot of the Diablo Ninebark I bought two years ago... with my Seashell Peony. I hate to trim the Ninebark's graceful arches so I think I will be forced to move the peony. The colors are great but the forms are competing.

Stranger in a Familiar Land

2009-06-12T20:27:00.019-04:00

I have been living out on the Seacoast for the past week and 1/2 while I work the new gallery in Portsmouth. I have been staying with my brother and his family in Newmarket- a town I lived in my freshman year in college. It is much changed from the year 1980. I can't remember what this building use to be but now it is Rocky's Burgers which makes fabulous burgers AND sweet potato fries on site.

Newmarket was home to some large manufacturing companies- Timberland shoes & textile mills. It was peopled with the immigrants who came here to work in the mills. The mills are fairly empty but the Newmarket Community Development Corporation has been working for many years to find someone to fill it with housing, retail, restaurants and art space.

I have been walking around every morning with my dog, eating at the restaurants, enjoying the many pocket parks and seeing the regular comings and goings of the residents. It is my favorite way to travel- to stay in one place and inject yourself into the daily ebb & flow of a community. (Ask Michelle- I announced that I was taking a bus NO WHERE once we arrived in Rome for a 9 day stay.) This is a photo of my brother's sneaker store LOCO (shameless plug).

I have also been attending the Spoken Word/Poetry night at Crackskulls Book & Coffee Shop. Walking into a poetry reading in a town of 5000 people sounds like it could be dreadful, but it is not. There are some pretty good poets, amusing conversation and lots of laughs. I believe this happens every Wednesday night.... I give it two thumbs up.

The town is loaded with historic buildings, such as this old firehouse. It looks to be re-purposed into apartments. I think I could live in such a funky old building. As a matter of fact I find myself looking at a lot of the buildings trying to decide which would be the best one to relocate my home and business to. I love little cities like this.
And Henry has also adopted Newmarket as a second home- where he has found a fine selection of fire hydrants and he is King of the Road.

Is It Just Me- Or Is It Really Histrionic In Here?

2009-06-06T05:54:00.011-04:00

I am in the middle of "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte. I figured it was a classic I had never read... and really, isn't it about time for melodrama in my life?

As I listen to it on cd in my car, performed by the incomparable Patricia Routledge (Hyacinth in Keeping Up Appearances), I can't help but think of Oprah or Jerry Springer. The two main characters, Heathcliff and Cathy, are so overwrought & tempestuous that they should appear on one of those shows. I just want to throw up my hands and say "Really, you are both so miserable you NEED to die."

In a group of women I mentioned I was reading it and they all swooned. I asked for reassurance that it is a good book. One woman suggested I need to suspend my modern day values and get into the swing of things. So on I plow.

There is so much gnashing of teeth and threatening of cruelty that I think of the play "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?" Spit, venom & hatefulness disguised as a society sanctioned relationship. There is even a Sandy Dennis character (Isabella Linton) who is so naive & pliant that she would rather die of Heathcliff's nastiness than tell her brother how unhappy she is. Get a spine Isabella!

I suppose it is a cautionary tale. People should stop being so passive aggressive and just try talking to each other. If they are unhappy beyond repair, move on.

All in all I think Dorothy Parker's take on life so much more understandable:

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

Have a happy day!

Day in the Life of My Garden- May 30, 2009

2009-05-31T20:39:00.014-04:00

I had to work all weekend but was able to find a few hours before dinner on Saturday to get out and feel the sunshine- finally.

Here is one of the new bird boxes built & installed by the boyfriend. The swifts & bluebirds have been duking it out for residency in this site. It isn't quite as tony an address as the one which overlooks his garden (good eatin'!) but it offers more privacy as it is removed from the major thoroughfares.

I have been haphazardly doing the edging on all of the beds, which means that whichever garden line irritates me the most gets edged. For me this is a very satisfying chore. It restores order, creates a clear division between lawn and is hard physical labor to help burn off a day's frustrations.

This is my Silver Brocade Artemsia. I thought I had lost it, but it just turns out to be a slow starter like the hostas. I did lose a lot of plants to the harsh winds of winter- some euphorbias, some new violets, the little sedum cauticolium, and some adorable little sedum that looked like bread mold. I purchased most of these plants this past year. I guess I need to cross them off my list. But I also lost an aster (what is hardier than a New England Aster?) and one of three of my new Black Lace Elderberry which is suppose to be safe to Zone 4.

Enough of the whining... One of my favorite sights is the new growth on my Blue Spruce. It is so .... blue! And the way it sheds its little covers like a snake is just too cute. I like to pick them off to uncover the soft little budlets ..... like I don't have more pressing things to do. I suppose once in a while we just need to indulge our indolence.

Home Is Where the Heart Is

2009-05-30T06:30:00.017-04:00

Photo of one of my favorite little pain-in-the-asskins all set to receive a potentially dangerous smooch in his safety goggles.

I went to a big schmooze event last night to rub elbows with the business community. I do these things periodically to keep my face and name in the public sphere. While it can be fun & enjoyable, it is ultimately work.

After much mingling, noshing and then later, when we were seated at tables, small talk with the people seated on either side of me my mind turned to the home front. The strain of constant mingling is tiring. Oh.... to be with those who elicit more natural responses...... silliness, quietness, grumpiness.

The feeling was too strong to resist. I gathered my things and made my way to the car. My dog must be telepathic because he was sitting in my seat staring right at me as I rounded the corner. I pushed him aside so I could climb in and then spent 5 minutes reassuring him, cuddling, kissing (on his part and mine) and high pitched keening for the heart ache he had endured.

Then the long drive home to my sweetheart, who was, of course, already in bed. He is an early to bed/early to rise kind of guy.

I have been listening to a book on tape to help make my long commutes pass. This time it is David Sedaris' "When You Are Engulfed In Flames." In one story he described the transition in a relationship from gulping down every little detail of your beloved to no longer having anything to discover. Soon you are left breathing heavily through your cell phone because there is nothing to say yet it is comforting to know that someone you love is at the end of the line. I often feel this way about my boyfriend and dog. I don't need to be engaged. It is often enough to know that they are sleeping somewhere nearby.

So I rushed home from a room full of people because I missed a houseful of my favorite sentient beings..... breathing heavily.

More Pause to Think

2009-05-28T20:26:00.003-04:00

This just in.... if you type in Shaved Puppy with Freckles I come up #7.

I find these sorts of things endlessly amusing. I mean, they are beyond non-sequiturs. Who thinks of these word combinations?

The Hurdle That Is My Brain

2009-05-20T20:09:00.006-04:00

Camera flaw too.

I have a fatal personality flaw. I see things in black & white... and am unwavering in my opinions about those things. Mostly this boils down to values & morality. I thought this was my cross to bear because I am a Capricorn, but my little sister confirmed that she also suffers from this flaw. She is an Aries.

"It is Dad. We inherited this from him- and he is a Gemini. Mum is nice to everyone. Dad carries grudges."

Ergghh... even when the behavior is self destructive I can't help but stick to my guns. I mean really, would the world stop spinning if I made a choice out of expediency and potential financial gain?

Nevertheless it makes me cranky that I am having my arm twisted to support an organization that is a boys network which does me no good. These people spend very little to no money at my business, so what will I lose? My reputation?

And what is that compared to my self determination?

A Day in the Life of My Garden- May 18, 2009

2009-05-19T11:01:00.005-04:00

I took a few days off to relax after many straight days of work. I lucked into decent weather so I made time to commune with my garden.

This poor little Spirea bush has been taunting me for a few years now. I love its lime green leaves next to the purple of the Campanula Glomerata. It is a prize winning combination. But the bush has been dying off in bits and pieces each year.

This year was the worst. About 80% of the bush is not leafing out- no amount of pruning will hide this fact. I have always had difficulty in giving up on a plant that is not quite dead. I feel it has a certain right to keep trying.

Unfortunately gardening is about creating beauty. This bush is not beautiful. So I began the terrible task of surgically removing its ugliness from the masses of young Campanula.

I consoled myself with some visions of health & beauty, like the just leafing out Smoke Bush & White Bearded Iris.

Or the electric blue of the almost unwelcome guest of Ajuga.

Or the silvery lamb's ear next to a pink azalea.

Lap Dog

2009-05-17T06:59:00.004-04:00

Walking through a field with Henry yesterday- he swings his head from side to side licking the dew off of the grass. He must be a lap dog.

I crack myself up.... I think I need to talk to more adults.

God is in the Detailing

2009-05-10T11:56:00.006-04:00

My little car has been ill used recently- what with all the transporting of Sheetrock & lumber to build the new seasonal location for my business. I decided to give my car a good hosing out as I am going to be transporting a rather valuable portrait in it this coming Wednesday.

Out comes the vacuum cleaner, buckets, rags and sponges. Carrying my dog everywhere means his white fur has permeated every crevice. I must have vacuumed for 45 minutes. Next comes the washing of all the surfaces- especially the snotty nose prints on the windows. While doing this thorough scrub I knocked the plastic console cover off its clips- REVELATION! This things comes off.

I have owned this Element for almost 4 years and have loved the lack of rugs and upholstery (no place for dog hair to stick) but have loathed all of the creases and crevices that catch it. If all these plastic covers and tidbits are removable though- my job just became much easier. While the interior doesn't look brand new, it is many steps closer to, at least, not creating a white hair storm every time you roll the windows down.

Pause To Think

2009-05-03T15:59:00.018-04:00

My town librarian recommended I listen to Studs Terkel's "Voices of Our Times." It is interviews with famous Americans from the 50's to the almost present. I am only into the 1960's but am quite taken by the regional accents that people displayed- especially the "East Coast Patrician" which is so ubiquitous amongst the intellectuals that are his preferred subject in this collection.

I was stopped in my tracks, so to speak, listening to the interview with Dr. Mortimer Adler, a philosopher who taught at several of the most prestigious schools in the nation. The idea he was putting forth to Studs in this brief interview was that intellect is not important, using the brain is. Regardless of the IQ - 90-140 - it is the "duty and moral obligation" of a human being to use their intellect in an ennobling manner.

Since 1850 we have accrued leisure time at an unprecedented rate. We no longer fill every waking hour toiling to make the clothing we wear or growing the food that we eat. His premise is that we owe it (to God? our fore bearers?) to use this leisure time well.

I think of how much leisure time I have and how frequently I feel that goofing off is my prerogative because I have worked so hard. I would hate to see a tally of how much of my free time is spent wastefully. I am not talking about the leisurely rambles with my dog- that serves as both exercise & rejuvenation. I am talking about the time spent playing solitaire on my computer. It serves absolutely no purpose.

Does this mean I need to become a Calvinist and offer all my labors up to the Glory of God? I think I may need to find some middle road so I can screw off a little bit, but I also want to be aware of how much of my life I am wasting.

I Did Dance All Night

2009-04-30T05:40:00.008-04:00

We attended a performance of the Luna Negra Dance Theater in Manchester last night. They are a Chicago based troupe that focuses on Spanish Culture. As you can imagine many of the dancers are drawn from the international Latino communities, guaranteeing a wide range of skin color from white to the darkest black. Normally I might say skin color makes no difference, but when you are there to watch bodies, it does (more on that later). They are also a very athletic troupe. No dainty swans here.... they stomp, leap, throw & roll like circus acrobats.

There were only three dances- albeit long dances with two intermissions. The first one was disappointing. We both had the same assessment- classical, competently performed, uninspired. I suspect as an ethnically based troupe they feel compelled to display their classical chops- like that will give them credibility in the serious dance world. But you don't go to see a troupe that is focused on its cultural heritage to see its interpretation of the established dance world. If you go to see a Latino troupe you want hot, passionate & sexy in the tradition of flamenco & tango.

And dish it up, they did.

The second dance Nube Blanco started off as a contemporary dance tango- the give and violent take of a relationship. The women were dressed in very frothy tulle crinolines, which were beautiful to see swaying with their movements. The whole troupe had red shoes which acted as the only color and as props. The shoes came off, were left alone on the stage in neat patterns, they were used as a phone, or picked up and moved around the stage with the dancers. At one point the dancers only wore one shoe- making their gait almost zombie-like as they danced with two different length legs. Throughout the dancers shed clothing until they were left in only black briefs and bras (for the women). The dance ended with a dancer sheathed neck to knees in the crinolines- the fluffy white cloud of the title- dancing amongst the nearly naked bodies. It was both beautiful and silly. The choreographer did not shy away from humor. Finally the stage cleared of all dancers but the white cloud who ended head down to slowly extend a beautiful, black leg to the ceiling. It was entrancing. My boyfriend leaned over and said "That was worth the price of admission right there."

The final dance was Batucada Fantastica, a series of solos culminating in an ensemble finale. It was based on the Brazilian Carnivale, complete with the raucous street music. Each dancer had their own shockingly colored outfit to add to the party atmosphere. And as it that was not enough they used dry ice & dropped confetti. It was very theatrical but it was no mere substitute for good dancing. It became a part of the dance.

If you have a chance to see them-go! And I would be remiss if I didn't mention the fabulous programming of the Dana Center at St Anselm College and its director, Bob Shea. They consistently bring in dance troupes and under appreciated musicians. Support them, support the arts.

This Just In.....

2009-04-27T19:22:00.003-04:00

Someone from the NNIC (Navy Network Information Center) googled "shotgun style sprinkler riser" and I came up #2. Google rocks... or I do.

Giggle! Or almost as funny is that someone googled "rich Capricorns" and I came up #4. Now THAT is rich.

Weekend of Gardening

2009-04-27T06:02:00.013-04:00

It was a beautiful weekend in the neighborhood. It was warm, sunny and the temperatures soared into the low 90's. A little hot for April- but I'll take it.

The spring bulbs are out in full force- behold some of my favorite crocuses. The ground still looks barren as most plants are just starting to put forth. It makes my heart flutter- rhubarb nodules that look like something from outer space, red peony shoots, brussel sprout shaped sedum stalks.

Many things took a beating this winter- the wind is vicious in my little micro-climate. Whole patches of stachys byzantia are limping into the season- even with healthy patches just 3 feet away. One of my treasured Black Lace Elderberries had to be cut back to a nub as its branches had turned to mush.

I bought three Variegated Euphorbias last year. One just never really took. I figured the winter had done it in. When I dug it out its roots were healthy though. I dusted them off them off to find the roots were all swirled into a tight circular ball. The grower had probably started plugs in tiny pots so the roots had no where to go but in a circle. They then put the plug into a larger pot- after shooting it full of fertilizer to make a showy, topside display- and passed it on to me. The little thing never had a chance. So I teased out the tangled mess, splayed the roots in a new hole and will give the baby another chance.

I had to put new moss into the sculpture by the front door. Every year it seems to lose a little bit so I hunt for the stuff that grows on granite to ensure the transplant. I like to trim it up so it makes a tidy display- almost like you can read the symbol. One of these days I'll ask the the artist if it means anything.

The boyfriend has put up his pirate flag to ward off garden evil. In case marauders don't get the message he has draped a Robin carcass over it too. Not that Robins are marauders but it does send a message of "we don't fool around in this here garden- Arrrgh."

Minor Domestic Goddess

2009-04-26T08:30:00.006-04:00

It is a very slow morning here at the ranch. I slept till 7, which is the equivalent of most people sleeping till noon. My body is a little spent after yesterday's gardening exertions, but I will do it again today.

But before all the fun, I took care of a few things- putting the laundry on the line so it has time to dry before the predicted afternoon thunder showers. Read the paper. Make myself buckwheat pancakes.

For those of you who can eat wheat, you have probably never wandered down the gluten free path paved with such delicacies as corn tortilla sandwiches and buckwheat pancakes. They are actually pretty good, as long as you don't think of them as a substitute- they are a food unto themselves. Buckwheat pancakes taste like they might be good for you- a little gritty and heavy, but covered in maple syrup they are divine.

The boyfriend requested blueberries in them. He is a fiend about picking them so our freezer is still stocked with wild & cultivated blueberries. We need to make an effort to get them all eaten as the next blueberry season is right around the corner. I think we started the fall with 15 gallons in the freezer. Such a burden!

I have discovered an alternate use for blueberries; they hold heat better than a rock wall. Being the scientist/glutton that I am, I ate the pancakes fresh off the griddle. Cooked fruit is searingly hot. Perhaps they could be enlisted in the burgeoning green movement? Passive solar storage? I suspect blueberry floors would bring another set of problems that I haven't thought about yet. I do think it is worth exploring though.

Well- off for my morning walk and other scientific discoveries.

Hot Dog!

2009-04-25T20:29:00.002-04:00

This is just a quick post as I am quickly heading to my reading/sleeping place after a long day of working out my wheelbarrow. It was 91 degrees on our back porch and 90 degrees on the front porch. Took Henry for a little pre-dinner spin around the yard. I have been watching this pile of snow in the field next to ours. This is what it looked like at 5:30 tonight. I bet it will be gone tomorrow.

Henry is in the photo to provide scale.

Bossy Capricorn's Book Review

2009-04-25T04:13:00.008-04:00

A few weeks back I ran out of things to read and pleaded for recommendations from friends. Reading recommendations are a dodgy thing as tastes are so idiosyncratic. I have a preference for nonfiction. I am also pretty intolerant of bad or uninteresting writing. Things I have loved and recommended to others have fallen flat. Then, as a smitten reader, you are left trying to decide if the book was faulty or the friend you recommended it to is ignorant.

Despite my predilection for nonfiction I read a novel that was recommended to me- Penelope Lively's The Photograph. While it was a bit slow to start, it sucked me in rather quickly and deposited me back into my life after a rather disturbing ending. Without giving away the whole book - a husband finds a compromising photo of his wife several years after her death. He then tries to figure out the mystery of her by tracking down family members and the players from the photograph.

The disturbing part of the book is that mystery of how well you ever know anyone, even those you are the most intimate with. So often people project on to others their own views and don't bother to really look or listen. There is also that more benign negligence of thinking you know someone simply because you have known them for years.

I suppose this need to know people better should also be tempered by the horrifying aspects of knowing someone well. I am not sure where I fall on this spectrum, but this book certainly churned up a lot of thought on the subject.

Two thumbs up from the Bossy Capricorn. Get thee to a library!

Day In The Life Of My Garden- April 19, 2009

2009-04-19T21:25:00.013-04:00

I pulled my planter out of my compost pile and it looks like my experiment is successful. The plants are alive & thriving. The Lamb's Ear looks a little worse for the wear, but it does in the garden too. I have learned not to mess with it too early in the spring or you risk killing it. It is so tempting to pull off all those matted, grey leaves.

I decided it was time to finally finish up the bed I started last fall. I had taken out all of the grass & birch tree roots- big job! Today I leveled out the soil and then immediately messed it up by bringing over a couple of loads of compost. The compost was a job in itself. It wasn't totally broken down so I had to speed up the process with an old lawn mower. My trusty assistant, Henry, made sure that it was properly cooked by testing it periodically.

I turned the compost in by hand with my garden spade. The tank in the background is the old cistern from when the property was a golf course back in the 60's.

After all the soil prep was done I started hunting around for Stella d'Oro daylilies. I know they are considered industrial landscaping plants, but I inherited them from the previous owners. They are everywhere. I figured if I corralled them into one garden they would make a nice loud display and not mar other areas with their Kraft Mac & Cheese coloring. It is also a part of my yard that really needs something to look at besides a big metal tank.

Au Naturel

2009-04-18T19:52:00.006-04:00

I suppose I should have made a bigger deal of this then I did. I decided to stop dying my hair .... for all kinds of reasons. The last hair cut I had made the color look like a squirrel- blond, gray, brown, etc. I had it cut again about two weeks ago and whatever was left of color is now gone. I am au naturel.

I am not displeased with it. I don't think it makes me look any older than I am- 47. It doesn't look wrong with my face color or clothing & jewelry collection. I don't feel any less attractive. People have said it looks good.

On the plus side- I think it gives me an air of authority. An air that comes with age and experience.

Of course- looking at this photo I am thinking I might be in need of an eyebrow & eyelash transplant, and those freckles are totally out of control.