Pondside Thoughts...

Back to reality.... or did I just leave it?

Back to work today... hard to believe my week off is gone. It flew by so fast.

While I was glad to get home yesterday, back to my own bed, my own porch, my beautiful Spy Pond, it was imposslbe to sleep last night as I thought about all that lay waiting for me at the office. I finally fell into a troubled sleep which was invaded by the sun and NPR only moments later, it seemed. And today was at least fifty hours long. My days at work generally are very busy and active and I rarely look at my watch until about 5, when I realize the work day is gone and I still have hours of work to do.  But today I plopped into my chair at 3, completely exhausted, glanced at my watch and couldn't believe I still had hours of meetings to attend. Oh my.

Re-entry is not for wimps.

It's finally past 5 and I have done my basic work for the day. I just don't have it in me to work the additional three hours that would normally complete my day and make a dent in my work...

As for the last few days of vacation, they were as delightful as the first. I spent them with C and P and daughter and son-in-law A and E on Yokum Pond in Becket.  We saw "Gallim" at Jacob's Pillow, had yummy beer can chicken for dinner, and played endless silly games with baby Julia, who is a beauty and a delight. But beyond all that, here's my favorite part. 

On Saturday morning P's neighbor, the amazing C, asked us to drive her boat as she took her first water skiing spin around the lake  C is an experienced water skier who just loves to get out there and zoom around beautiful Yokum Pond on a single ski.  P was to drive and I would be the spotter. C took us around the lake once to test the new motor on her powerful little boat and give directions. Then P took over the wheel and C jumped into the water, put on her ski and held the rope as we slowly moved ahead until it was taut. P hit the gas and the boat powered forward. The amazing C slowly came out of the water on her ski, beautiful, grinning ear to ear, and gracefully skiing back and forth across the wake, coming up next to the boat, drifting back, seemingly effortlessly carving the water for a full turn around the entire large lake.  When we again reached our starting point C dropped the rope and we circled round to pick her up.  We were screaming in delight and joy for the amazing C, not only in the boat, but on the shore friends celebrated this incredible woman's journey around the lake on a single water ski.  The amazing C is 72 years old, has a very nasty and aggressive case of pancreatic cancer, and severe arthritis that takes particular pleasure in locking up her shoulders. By all rights and standards, she should be sitting in a rocking chair receiving guests and sipping tea.

But not the amazing C.  Let us all be blessed with her will, her optimism, and her indominable spirit.

Vacation Life is Good. Very Good.

It has been a very good vacation week here in the Berkshires.  Work has been beckoning, but I've managed to keep it largely at bay, with only a few hours taken from the week... not bad, given all that is happening. Monday will be an adventure, I'm sure, but I'm trying not to think about it until at least Sunday afternoon. With limited success.

We went to the Clark Museum in Williamstown, MA, to see the Arthur Dove/Georgia O'Keeffe exhibit, which was wonderful.  I'd never seen their work displayed side by side. Remarkable how strongly Dove influenced O'Keeffe, who credits him with her introduction to modernism. And it is clear that O'Keeffe influenced Dove's later work when he moved to watercolor.

Arthur Dove's "Sea Gull Motive" and Georgia O'Keeffe's "Dark Iris":

 

Remarkable, no? 

Last night we saw "Away We Go" with Maya Rudolph. What a funny, interesting, touching movie. Just wonderful - a hearty laugh and a few tears if you are a true cinematic weeper like me.

We continue to sample the great restaurants of the Berkshires including a light supper at Napa in Great Barrington last night.  I had a yummy red lentil soup with chorizo and smoked paprika and a roasted beet salad with arugala, Berkshire blue cheese and toasted almonds, with a glass of Fabre Montmayou Classico Malbec from Argentina.  Is there a better way to end the day?  Not likely, especially since young Fisherman A joined us and added good conversation and several very amusing tales of his day to day toils as a server at a posh Berkshire retreat.

On to Becket this evening, and dear friends C & P, their daughter and her husband, the wonderful A & E, and grandaughter, the amazing and lovely baby J.  All on the shore of beautiful and huge Yokum Pond. This will be a nice way to end my Berkshire retreat.

Dear Aunt S and Uncle L

This entry is dedicated to Dear Aunt S and Uncle L, who love and are loved by so many.  They are caring, giving, completely non-judgmental and devoted. And of course, Aunt S is the only one I'm aware of who actually reads my blog and sends me love notes about how much they enjoy it. Each such comment makes me feel like I've gotten a gold star on my permanent record.

I wish everyone the sweetness of such people in their lives.

We love you, Aunt S and Uncle L!

Off on Vacation in the Berkshires

Oh, precious vacation week, I thought you'd never arrive.

Saturday morning I dashed about madly preparing for a restful vacation in the Berkshires with Dear Cousins J and G. Preparation was something I hadn't, of course, even considered in the days before, partly due to all that is going on right now at work - completely consuming - and partly becuase that's just me.  I'm not interested in the whole deciding and packing thing until the time is HERE.  So, as is my habit, I left the house Saturday around 1PM and drove the 2+ hours west having finished all the chores, but tired and far more ready for a nap than a long drive.

Arrived Saturday in time for Woody Allen's new movie, "Whatever Works" (loved it, with perfectly tuned performance by Larry David, Patricia Clarkson, and Evan Rachel Wood. The damp reviews be damned, I found it gently neurotic, sweet, sad, hopeful, and everything we have come to expect - and occasionally get - from Mr Allen), followed by dinner in West Stockbridge at a sturdy, cheerful restaurant called Rouge that specializes in lthe best of locally grown organic food. Dear Cousin J and I had perfectly cooked rack of lamb with sweet potatoe puree and snow peas with a Montepulciano Sangiovese, while Dear Cousin G and others in our party had the thyme and rosemary encrusted ribeye steak and an Oregon Pinot Noir to celebrate their return the day before from a wonderful vacation in Oregon. This was a perfect way to launch vacation. By the time dinner and wine and conversation were done it was almost midnight and time for that special night's sleep that happens only the first night of vacation. I fell into bed exhausted and slept until 9:30 the following morning - a complete miracle for me.

And what was the best part of Sunday? The sun was out, yes it was.  We have had weeks and weeks of rainy weather in Boston, far more than is reasonable or fair, and all of it centering around weekend after weekend of mist, drizzle, or monsoon. Out here in the Berks the sun is out, it is temperate, breezy, and utterly wonderful. J and G's house is perched atop a big hill that overlooks a lake. Birds are the only sounds around and they have been singing for joy, celebrating the reappearance of the happy yellow orb, since I arrived. Deep breath. Exhale slowly.

We visited with J & G's delicious sons, Bon Vivant J and Fisherman A, had a wonderful lunch just south of Gt Barrington, stopped at many garden centers to admire plants and choose a bird bath. We purchased an obscene number of strip steaks, corn, and a volleyball sized watermelon for dinner. We added a country bread and black bean, corn, lime, cilantro salad from the fridge and oh, my, we ate and talked and laughed. Rinse and repeat.

Bon Vivant J left at 7AM today on his long drive back to Toronto.  We all went back to bed and slept until 10. Has the world gone mad??

Today, with repeatedly expressed good intentions of getting to the gym, taking a long walk, doing other productive things, we lazed about instead, killed the Times puzzle, admired the flowers in the garden, dead headed one or two, chatted strenuously, read books and magazines and never quite managed to dress until now - about 6:15 PM.  We're off to a local reataurant run by a Vietnamese family where the Pho is incomparable and cheap.

Photo is the beautiful Amy Palatnick pottery brought back from Oregon by lucky J and G.

Off to Florida for Dad's 90th

Just hours from heading to the airport for our flight to Florida to help Dad celebrate his 90th birthday. My favorite part of the preparation has been gathering stories and photos from family and friends to make a sweet memories book to commemorate the occasion.

Our small, but close family sent lovely little "love notes" talking about their memories of our frequent weekend barbecues and mom and dad's gracious, loving hosting on many happily spent summer days.  Amy made a photo montage page in the center of the book  and all the other pages are photos with accompanying writing.

My favorite of these is from Dad's big brother, Uncle G, who, at 92, has the memory of a young man.  I found a wonderful old photo of the two of them, Dad a serious little blond boy of about 6, and Uncle G, about 8, with his arm slung round Dad's shoulder, grinning, comfortable and confident. This really captures their relationship and their lives.  The story Uncle G gave me for the book reads in part,

"We shared a bed for many years in Mama's house on Sutter Avenue and we didn't have the same idea about when it was time to go to sleep. I liked to play big band music on my radio and you would yell at me to shut it off so you could get some sleep! You hated that music then, but you became a real music lover later on."

The party will be at the Marriott Harbor Beach on the shore in Fort Lauderdale - a beauty spot. There will be about 30 of  us. Dad's main request was for a DJ and lots of music. He really does love big band music, Louis Armstrong, Louis Prima, Ella Fitzgerald, Benny Goodman, et al. But he also likes the Macarena.  At 90 years old Dad says, "Really, the only time my legs don't hurt is when I'm dancing". 

Let us all be so blessed.

The Bachelorettes

  Sweet A’s beloved friend, Adorable D, is getting married in June and the bridesmaids gave her a bachelorette party last night. It was a wild night in the city from what I hear. Yesterday afternoon Sweet A and Crazy K dressed all in black with hoodies drawn tight around their faces and hid behind the restrooms at Hampton Beach, where Adorable D's fiancee, Trusty G, promised to deliver her. Not to be outdone by other transparent kidnapping ruses, A and K literally bagged D, tied her up with a rope, and put her in the car. (They had let hints drop so Adorable D would not freak out or have a heart attack or, worst of all, bite them, but apparently the kidnapping had its desired affect including screams, jumping back, and best of all, assuming a Ninja pose of defense). 

The day and evening went on to include a big limo with an entertaining driver, much drinking, a feisty, full participation visit to a female impersonator club, a blow up man doll named Tyrone who accompanied them around the city, more drinking, club dancing, more drinking, and collapse in the wee hours at a nice hotel in Cambridge. Needless to say when they arrived here at noon today they were badly in need of coffee. And food. They are a lovely, funny bunch of young women… just delicious. Here’s the menu:

Frittata made with asparagus, red pepper, onion, Emmenthaler, and Gruyere cheeses, eggs and Greek yogurt, with little cherry tomatoes squeezed out, cut in half and arranged around the top. It makes a lovely, light frittata with lots of flavor and nothing too shocking for a digestive system in a delicate state.

Also fresh orange juice, bagels, big fruit bowl with giant strawberries and blackberries, and coffee, LOTS of coffee.

Sweet A created a CD of their favorite music to play in the limo as they cruised around the city, beginning with, of course, Beyonce's "All the Single Ladies". She made a (legal) copy for each of the ladies and left them with me.  A CD was tucked into a little Easter basket filled with tiny Dove chocolates and gummy bears placed at each setting.

Having eaten and downed gallons of coffee, they are all mellow and dozing on the sofa in the living room, chatting away, laughing, wonderful sounds.

The house will be all too quiet when they leave all too soon.

 

More White Stuff on the Way...

Aargh, this weekend holds the promise of more white crap falling from above. When did snow change from magical gift of the sky to dreaded toxic backache maker from the evil laughing gods? 

 

During the wet snow the other day I had to leave the house early, so I did not clear the murky whitish slop from the walk, steps, or front door porch. So now it is frozen completely solid, the consistency of concrete chemically bonded with high fire porcelain. It resists all attempts at chipping or salting away. I'm considering going after it this evening with nail scizzors. On hands and knees. I love winter in New England.

 

On the other hand, it is now January, which means we have passed the magical date of December 22, the shortest day of the year.  It's hard to see it or feel it, but the days are getting longer and help is on its way. Soon we'll be traveling to and leaving work in daylight and we won't feel so much like troglodytes.

 

 

New Theme... Waddya Think??

Got an email from TypePad today (they host my blog) telling me about all the nifty new Themes available to me. So, like the compulsive consumer you all know me to be, I dashed right out, tried them on and chose this one. 

Oh, it was so difficult to choose. I liked so many of them but as is so often the case I can only have one.  (Why is this?)  So I'm trying on this theme like a new pair of shoes - really fabulous shoes. Shoes that could change my life. Really.

So what do you think?  Does this theme look good on me? Does it make my butt look big? Help me out here. I depend on you to tell the truth. Or at very least to lie with generosity. Click on "Comments" below and tawk to me.....

Giving Thanks

I woke up this morning filled with gratitude for all that is right with the world. This is a rare condition for me. More typically I wake up with a to-do list, a don't-wanna-do list, and a wish-I-had-done list.

But not today. Today I am basking in what my life has been and become, the family and friends that bless it, and the comfort and wealth (and we ain't talkin' money here) that surround me. Today I love my most comfortable bed in the world, my best hot shower a human being ever had, and my delicious anticipation of Thanksgiving dinner with so many of the people I love.

I know, this is so schmaltzy and I am generally so not. I don't know what has come over me and I promise to get well soon, but here I am, in this haze of joy grown out of gratitude, just plain (dare I say it) happy.

So, very quickly, before reality realizes I've stepped out, before the economy and the war and the sadness and worry remember me, I wish you a fabulously Happy Thanksgiving, and I wish you a day like my today.

I Need a New Drag...

I've been whining and complaining about the kitchen project for so long I'm feeling a bit disoriented and lacking focus now that Henry is finally wrapping up the punch list.  The new porch door no longer leaks, the bathroom door has been replaced, the tile is finished and all the painting is done.

Yes, there are a few punch list items that still need attention, but once the glass shelves are in place, that's about it until the next thing...

So for now I am done with construction. It's been a long haul. By the time the last item is done it will have taken over 5 months - Henry's promise of 6-8 weeks notwithstanding. Not that the work was so much more than estimated. No, it is rather due to the supreme frustration of workus interruptus. Like sex without the payoff this project went on and on and on, raising my hopes and dashing them, promising glory and and delivering frustration.

BUT, now that it's done, what will I complain about? Wait. I know. My iPhone!!

Yes, I bought an iPhone a couple months ago and I must say I am generally delighted with it. It is so very easy to use, so very clever, so easy to love. And that is the problem.  I've wrapped my whole crazy life around this tiny device. It holds my calendar, email, phone book, photos, my little collection of OCD-pleasing games, all my music, my Jeff Buckley radio station, my Eric Watson radio station. Yes, everything. All my connections to the world around and the world within.

So imagine my chagrin when, after 6 weeks of blissful seduction, after it has lured me into its web of complete dependency, one day I awake to find that its battery won't hold a charge. Charge it up and one hour later it's dead again, whimpering "feed me" like Rick Moranis's crazy plant, Audrey.

Disappointment, panic, rage, the three stages of technology betrayal.

At lunch time I dash to the Apple store at the North Shore Mall. It is located in a corner 6 or 7 miles from the end of the mall where the only remaining parking hasn't been blocked off for construction. I high tail it through the mall like an old OJ Simpson commercial, knowing I only have about 90 minutes for this critical mission.  I arrive, panting, at the welcoming entrance (no doors of course) to the Apple store. I am greeted by a young woman with the word "Concierge" embroidered on her preppy little polo shirt and her chipper grin communicating that she would rather die than let me down in this moment.

"Hey, how can I help you today?" she asks, making eye contact for all she's worth.

"My phone battery is dead", I say, "I charged it all night and it was dead by 10AM".

"Oh, BUMMER!" she wails as if I'd told her my dog had died. So far so good. She gets it.

"Come right over here with me and let's see what we can do for you." She leads me to one of 6 flat panel monitors standing as sentinels in the entry way. tap tap tap. Hmmm. tap tap tap. Frown. tap tap tap. "Oh, Gwen... it is Gwen, isn't it?  Well, it looks like we won't have a genius available until 1:00. Is that okay?"

A genius? I am SO stupid and so not cool. "Oh, that's okay." I say. "I don't need a genius. All I need is someone who can replace the battery. It's not holding a charge." Poor silly me. There is profound pity in her eyes. She is so sorry for me and my ignorance and cluelessness. 

She tries everything she can. She calls the genius concierge who stands guard at the back of the store in the sort of playground area where the geniuses work and the supplicants wait. This concierge is so young and sweet and so very sorry, over and over again he is sorry, but he can't help me and so I make an appointment for Friday at noon and walk toward the front of the store and the exit,  having failed in my quest. Along the way I am accosted by at least 3 other concierges who want to know if my visit was great and if I am happy. I am not happy and I try hard with some very limited success not to say slightly mean things to these sweet children, er, concierges.

On Friday I returned, and because I have an appointment with a genius and I am so very cool and knowing and with it, I am able to get my phone fixed - replaced even - in a matter of minutes. Then the genius is happy and the concierge is happy and damn it, I am happy, too. My lovely iPhone works again and now I am so smart and I know just how to be cool in the Apple store. Just took me sixty years.