weather wave

Last night about the time the President was on the air, and I was deep into a TCM offering in complete avoidance of our current unbearable politics, Nature offered a declaration of its own. Above the seclusion of my headphones I heard a roar. First I thought, plane, and as it continued I realized it was wind and rushed down to the front door to watch. In the darkness, my street bent to the wind and then the pound of rain, making all other thoughts halt! The fury of it for a few minutes stopped my breath. I saw two neighbors, late dog-walking, scrambling for home, completely soaked. I watched until it eased.

Back to my chair, and the escape of theater I realized again how utterly defenseless we are against natural forces. We think we have such control until we catch a glimpse of how fragile our grip really is. 

We can prepare for and clean up after, but the storms will come and go despite our best efforts. I guess it makes sense to relax and ride the wave. Once I was on a raft, fairly far out in the ocean and caught a big wave just right and sailed all the way to the beach and to the foot of the lifeguard's stand!

Best possible Life outcome!

the mail

Growing up, we got our physical mail delivered, six days a week, in a gray metal box with a red flag, that was staked into the ground across a busy two-lane highway. It was always high adventure to brave the traffic and slip over to find whatever daily treasures may come our way, mind you as a child the treasures were few and far between! 

I do remember at some point in my "writing career", let's say age 10, I began sending entries to "Life in These United States" - a section in Reader's Digest that featured humorous true happenings that readers sent in and got paid $50 for each entry printed. From that vantage in life I thought I had a lot to offer RD!! So I would faithfully write up the hilarious incidents - and I do mean "write" so imagine the tip-off to the editors! And after I would send them, the wait for the mail began - because obviously I had already spent the fifty bucks! Sadly, I waited in vain.

But, in addition to bills and advertisements,  the gray mailbox provided lifelines to parents lonely for their college children, love letters for adolescent teens, birthday greetings all up and down the age spectrum as well as invitations to weddings, parties, Stanley products demonstrations, graduations - the whole of life funneled through that narrow metal box.

Such a small, once-a-day passage compared to the avalanche of communication that now spews out in our palms wherever we are, every second of our 24/7 existence!

birthday parties

I guess I'm always astonished over the hoopla about birthdays these days - particularly children's'. The competition to have the bigger and better theme parties leaves me cold.

When we were growing up, I think we got a small gift - usually a clothing item and possibly a card or two in the mail. But I never remember a birthday party of any kind. What I do remember is a cake and candles at the supper table. After the song, the cake was cut and the candles divvied out to the individual slice and relit. The battle was on to see who could keep their candle lit the longest - yes, a complete invitation to dessert chaos!

But that's the highlight memory of childhood birthdays - no big fuss, monetary or otherwise, of any kind. 

I have to wonder if after the present day avalanche of princess, pirate, Star-Wars, magician, cowboy, etc., parties and all the gifts, food, decorations, what is achieved? 

Perhaps the simple beauty of a happy place at the family table was the most amazing birthday  celebration a child could be given after all.

I tie up the memory with a big red bow.

Em Oi Restaurant

Vietnamese cuisine - um, um!

When we learned of a new restaurant opening up near us, last night seemed as good a night as any to give it a test run.

Simply delicious.

I had a sizzling platter of catfish, sautéed scallions, vermicelli noodles, peanuts, lime, hot peppers and mint plus of course the every present nuoc mam. My mouth is watering just writing the words!

I guess every time I leave an ethnic restaurant I wonder why so much of our eating is so bland, heavy, excessive and unimaginative!

Vive la difference!

off the shelf

Speaking of resolutions - who the heck was? - I had decided a while before the new year began, that I would begin using my "good china" rather than just having it sit, prettily on show, in a lighted case. Good china sounds way more grandiose than it is, but I do have some nice things that I rarely use. I have begun with teacups. Each morning's coffee or tea now resides beautifully in some cup of history. This morning I drank from an ornate rose cup that I can't even guess how old it is because I got it from the bounty of my sister-in-law's possessions after her death. I loved her; I love drinking from the cup she once used. To me, using these items that are passed down from generations before is drinking from the family well - pure, sweet, cooling draughts of history.

Resolutions always have the scent of white paste to me! I remember like it was yesterday, standing in front of the newly unlocked cupboard in the back of the schoolroom, oiled floors wafting their own particular scent, and Mrs. Miller handing out fresh tablets, like God on the first day of Creation! What lofty ambitions I had - how beautifully I would write, how neatly I would cipher (is that even a word anymore in this context?) I must inject I just looked up the word cipher and the second definition is" cipher: do arithmetic (archaic)"!!! Wow, does that make my day!

But back to the fresh, pure tablets. Be they tablets, journals, notebooks - fresh pages conjure up possibility to me. What profound thing might I record for future generations? Now, as opposed to the mere five years old I was when I got my first tablet, I understand that all the "profound" things I wrote over the years, at some point will get dumped when the first big downsizing begins!

But never mind, there is still the blossoming value of process. Any muscle unused gets flabby: the mind is no exception. If you don't believe it, try sitting down and writing a letter to someone. My hand physically cramps, the spelling of words - well, that's downright frightening! This spell check thing is subterfuge!! When I was writing Christmas cards, I had to ponder over words that should have flowed like the Conestoga! My grade school teachers' tongues would be clicking.

Yes, I know it's all part of the aging process, but it's also part of the process of beginning life in a two roomed schoolhouse and closing out my time in Windows 10! Still, the little pig-tailed girl in me stands in awe at being handed a new year, a new tablet of possibilities. I give thanks.

by hand

I heard from a friend, who is downsizing her home in preparation for a move to a retirement complex, that the antiques we have been cherishing all our lives are no longer in demand!

This astonishes me.

What happens to the next generation? Will they no longer want the puddled-softness of hand-stitched quilts, the dry-sinks glowing with late 19th century oak, the fragile china passed down from grandparents' dinner tables?

I don't understand.

For me, the excitement of a room's décor, is the blend of the most recent technology and the past's memories in whatever dimension.

Are we just shedding, shedding, shedding and not replacing with anything that doesn't require a password?

I think of the hours of visible work that went into the things I cherish most and sigh for our cyber world.