I'm Still Blogging...just not here

While it seems likely I've taken a long walk off a short pier, I haven't.  I am blogging on my other site now

Women of a Certain Age.  I took a long break after New Year's.  I was tired and uninspired and not even close to being that poetic.  When I finally wanted to write again I decided I was torn between two blogs that didn't necessarily compliment one another.  

I've opted to continue with WOCA and I hope those of you who followed this blog will join me there.  I'm transferring the blogs I follow from this one to that and hope to be back commenting on your various pages again.  

Yes, it's this cold

I don't know about you but where I live, in the frozen tundra known as "northern New England", specifically northern New Hampshire, it is unbelievably cold.  No, it's not as cold as parts of the upper mid-west.  A former client of mine, now back in his native Minnesota, experienced -46 this morning.  I awoke to 6 degrees with a wind chill of -11 and that was plenty cold enough for me.  

Thanks Polar Vortex!

It's a Happy New Year If You're a Dog!

We are dog sitting this dog in the center of this Happy New Year post my husband created for my friend.  We took our dog and her dog snow shoeing today and they spent much of their time noses buried in snow digging for field mice which they never found.  The snow is probably a foot deep, frozen over and hard to walk in but we all managed.  Northern New England is expecting another big storm tomorrow with another 12" predicted and brutal sub zero temps and wind chills.  

Hoping you had a grand New Year's Eve and are ringing in 2014 with happiness and a warm puppy!

It's Beginning to Sound A lot Like...

Of all the Christmas music in the world, I think I like the Vince Guaraldi composed "A Charlie Brown Christmas" the most.  It expresses every feeling one can have during the holiday season, from joy to poignancy.  I've had the album/CD for years and it gets the most play of all, surpassing the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Bing, Perry, A Very Special Christmas Vol. 1, Fred Waring.  I can never get enough.

Yes, I love the other great songs:  The Christmas Song, I'll Be Home for Christmas, White Christmas, It's Beginning to Look Alot like Christmas, Happy Christmas War Is Over (John Lennon LOVE IT), Wonderful Christmastime (McCartney), Santa Baby, etc etc.  They are funny, sad, emotional and they fill me with memories.  But nothing surpasses Vince Guaraldi.  His work is one of a kind.  He broke the mold.

Waiting for the Big One...snow, that is

Borrowed from The Oatmeal, this cartoon sums up exactly the dialogues going on when it snows in a city.  We've lived in three cities where snow, while not necessarily a given, is usually a factor each Winter.  I've yet to see any of those cities prepared.  Never mind the drivers.

 



Happy Thanksgiving! Things I am Grateful for

 

It's Thanksgiving morning, 9AM.  I have no turkey to roast, no pies to bake, no sides to prepare, no stuffing to stuff.

 

My home is quiet as a churchyard on any day but Sunday.  The wind outside is blowing and the temps are in the low 20s.  There is a dusting of snow on the ground.

 

My husband is still asleep; my mother-in-law is too, each wrestling with fatigues born of insomnia, injury or illness.   Even our faithful dog Dewey is slumbering, having awakened my husband at 5AM for a quick trip outdoors.  They are safe and warm and snuggling in their beds on this cold November day.

 

Our sons are halfway round the world in Australia.  I miss them but I reassure myself they are safe and happy and on the adventure of their lives. 

 

My brother, his wife and daughters are on the West Coast.  We haven't seen one another in five years.  The girls have their own families now and I know my brother is surrounded by love.

 

Our table stands empty.  It will not be set today.  But it rings with the memory of holiday dinners, family, friends and parties. 

 

My parents are gone and, I believe, in a better place.  Every holiday fills with their presence, their customs.  My mother would spend two days getting ready for Thanksgiving and our menu rarely varied.  She served Waldorf salad on her mother's cranberry pressed glass plates (which I still have), roast turkey stuffed with a traditional herbed bread stuffing, candied yams in butter & brown sugar, green peas, home made cranberry sauce, oyster dressing (a second stuffing for those with sophisticated palates), gravy, mashed potatoes, crudités of carrots, celery, black olives.  The table was always set with her Irish linen or old lace tablecloth, linen napkins, her fine silverware, Lenox dinner plates, crystal goblets.  There were fresh flowers, candles and music.  Dessert was always pumpkin pie and minced or pecan pie with whipping cream.

 

My father always carved with his steel butcher knife.  He loved to sharpen that thing on his whetstone and made a very big deal of it.  Grace preceded the meal.  Ours was an observant family, at least, outwardly.

 

Afterwards, mother and I did the dishes.  She had no dishwasher until they retired and, if she had, it wouldn't have mattered as she would never have put her good dishes, crystal and silver in it anyway.

 

When I married and lived far from home, my husband and I celebrated Thanksgiving meals I prepared or we went out.  I remember one Thanksgiving in Chicago where we were on vacation.  We stayed at the Ambassador East hotel and had reservations in the Pump Room.  Very chic.  By the time we sat down and ordered, they were out of turkey!  We had to eat fish!  That still makes me smile.

 

Today, my husband, my mother-in-law and I are dressing up and going to a lovely hotel in our mountain town where we will be served a traditional Thanksgiving meal.  We shall sit and dine on fine china with fancy cutlery, crystal on a white tablecloth and enjoy spectacular views of the mountain range.  It will be nice and easy. 

 

Aside from the people I love who are gone or away, I shall miss the leftovers.



Happy Thanksgiving!

Back from the Bourbon Trail

Bourbon Wars  by Cole Scott

My husband and I returned from a week long journey to Kentucky, where we once lived, to celebrate my birthday with good friends, do the Bourbon Trail and see the places we used to enjoy.

I am hastily posting these two shots he created during our tour of two major distilleries, Four Roses and Buffalo Trace.  Touring the distilleries is an education in itself and, while you do get to sample, it's at the end of long, informational and fascinating tour.  They are all different and well worth the time.



Buffalo Space by Cole Scott

The top photograph was taken at the Four Roses distillery in Lawrenceburg, KY.  The one that looks like a moon shot from a satellite is the interior of a barrel at the Buffalo Trace distillery near Frankfort, KY.

A Nightmare Before Halloween in Portsmouth N.H.

The spousal unit and I visited Portsmouth, NH last weekend.  It's one of our favorite New England seacoast towns, picture perfect, successfully preserved with great restaurants, a charming downtown and much to do.  It was a sunny, warm October day.  We ate outdoors at a sidewalk boite called Michelle's run by a charming husband and wife.  After brunch, we walked along the city streets where many versions of Jack Skellington from "The Nightmare Before Christmas" were displayed on vintage lampposts.  They were simply made but very effective.  I asked my husband to take a few shots and here they are.  The first two are raw, right out of the camera.  Shot #3 is his tricked out version of #2.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

My "most wonderful time of the year" is Autumn,  mid-September through mid-October when the leaves are in various stages of color, the lakes have a lazy morning fog hanging about til the sun peaks through, revealing all manner of water fowl, fish, fishermen, and fearless, hungry ducks. The mountains are ablaze with color and one has only to walk outside to feel the snap of a crisp Fall day,  ripe apples falling from our four apple trees and my house fragrant with home made apple sauce and apple pie. Geese and loons are contemplating their winter journey south but still hanging about for a last fattening up from the bounties of Summer. My husband and I usually take day trips staying close to home for spectacular local color.  This year was different. Recovered from respective Spring surgeries, we were ready to hit the road.

First stop was Frenchman's Bay between two of the three Acadias. We spent a week hiking, biking and exploring the territory in what is regionally known as Down East.  Warm weather, mostly sunny days and spectacular natural surroundings made this trip memorable.

The 163rd Fryeburg Fair, "Maine's Blue Ribbon Classic", came to town late September.  This is the largest agricultural fair in New England home to blue ribboned farm animals, a large midway with fair food and endless rides, woodsmen's day, sled dragging, harness racing.  People watching is the best part.

 

Schoodic Point, Acadia National Park, Maine  September

 

Acadia National Park, Mt. Desert Island    September

 

 

 

 Morning fog on Back Lake, Pittsburg N.H. October

 

 

 Cole Scott Sunset shoot 

Schoodic Point  September

 

 

 

"A Fast Pace" by Cole Scott

Harness Racing at the 2013 Fryeburg Fair in Maine

October

 

Fryeburg Fair midway at dusk 2013
 by Dick Pollock

 

The Grand Theater in Ellsworth, Maine

September 2013

 



Next stop was Coos (pronounced coh-oz) County, New Hampshire, an unspoiled country of rolling hills, spectacular lakes, rivers, forest, hunting, fishing, snowmobiling in winter and now home to the brand new Ride the Wilds ATV park, over 1000 miles of trails in New Hampshire and Southern Quebec. We took an entire day to ATV a very small portion in a Polaris Razor known as a two-up.  What a rush that was!  It was like being on a very scary ride or rollercoaster for over 40 miles.  Not for the faint of heart.  We got stuck twice and they had to winch us out of mud and logging trail ruts in two different places.  It was a gorgeous warm sunny day so no problem.  I do not have photographs of this trip, having dropped and broken my new camera while in Acadia.

 

Here is a link to a newly produced TV feature on this not-to-be-missed part of my state.  

3 Friends, 5 Days, 10 Years

"A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same."   Elbert Hubbard

 

Ten years ago this week, I lost three of my dearest friends within five days of one another.  Each was in his/her early 50s.  Each had cancer. 

 

Doug and I on his 40th birthday

The first to go was my friend Doug.  He died ten years ago yesterday of  colon cancer.  He was and still is the funniest person I have ever known.  Friends since high school, we hung with the same crowd in the parking lot of a coffee shop known as Dyles.  We christened ourselves  "the Dyles gang" although we weren't  a gang, per se, just a group of teenagers with similar interests:  drinking, smoking cigarettes and pot, going to the beach, going to any party we might hear about. The friendships began for some of us as early as junior high and are still going strong.  Doug, who began his tenure in the group as a slightly built, straight man to his overweight sidekick nicknamed "Wally", eventually became the king of one-liners & witty responses.    He told anecdotes and, like Jerry Seinfeld, most were based on truth;  those we'd experienced and those he embellished.  He was so funny he should  have done stand-up.  I think it was his secret passion. My life was never so hilarious as when portrayed by this guy.  He met the love of his life in his early twenties.  They married, had children and were supposed to live happily ever after.   Ten years after his passing,  she's still alone and in love with him. 

Mazatlan ca 1984 or 85
 the way I like to remember Doug, beer in hand

 



Maui, ca 1980  Dari & her then BF

The second loss came the next day when my best friend's sister, Daria, died of breast cancer.  She and Doug knew one another and surprisingly were diagnosed with their respective cancers within weeks of one another.    Each  fought their illness for five long years.  Daria comes from a medical family and she explored every available avenue, including, finally, a bone marrow transplant from her doctor brother.  She was a free spirit.  Unlike her three siblings, she did not follow the dictates laid out by her rigid father.  She was the only one to smoke before she was 21, forgoing the $1000 he promised each child if they made it.  She moved to Maui in her early twenties, lived at the beach, taught school, bartended and had a very cool life.   She married later than most, meeting her dream man in her mid-thirties.  After many years of shuttling between Maui and Lake Tahoe, where she was a black jack dealer, she settled for a more conventional life with her handsome, boyish husband, moving to a tiny town in Wisconsin to live on his family farm and teach school. She was unconventional to the end and I picture her turning the tiny town in which she passed her final years on its ear with her beautiful brave ways.   I consider myself privileged to have spoken  with her numerous times before she was too weak to talk.  Her death left a void in that family that can never be filled.

 



Randy & Pat ca 1984
Old Towne Mexican Café
San Diego

The third loss was two days after Daria's.  My very close friend, Pat, whom I met and worked with in my mid twenties, was one of the kindest, gentlest most thoughtful people I've known. She was a great listener.  When we first met, I was getting divorced; then I was dating (all the wrong men); then I was partying too much; then I was diagnosed with epilepsy; then I was in love and so on.  Pat listened to all the stories with great understanding and humor.  She was married to her soul mate, Randy, with whom she's grown up just outside Milwaukee.  I know she lived vicariously through many of us because we were "out there" and she was not.  But I never detected anything but interest and her advice was wise beyond her years.  Pat and Randy were family to me back in those days.  Pat had a wonderful gift.  She never forgot a birthday.  I never failed to receive a beautiful card and I looked forward to those cards because I knew, wherever I was living, she'd send one.  She was beautiful inside and out.  When she and her wonderful husband, finally left San Diego to return to their families and make a home in Milwaukee, my husband and I threw a wonderful large going away party for them.  Everyone in San Diego radio and TV  came because everyone loved Pat.  She had a way of making me feel like I was brave and funny.  I was a better person seen through her eyes.

 

Three friends.  Five days.  Ten years ago.  It seems as if it were yesterday.

 



Autumn Begins

"Autumn Expectations" by Cole Scott Photography

The Autumnal Equinox is Sunday, September 22nd.  New Englanders are preparing for the onslaught of visitors from New England, the Mid-Atlantic states and Canada.  New Hampshire alone is projected to entertain over 7.8MM visitors spending $1.09B.  As I live in a resort area and my income is dependent upon advertising to tourists, I hope it's true.

Just Another Day in the Hood

Yup.  This is for real; taken just up the road from our town by a New Hampshire man.  

Here's his description: 

 "I shot this photograph today (8/29) at the Irving gas station just north of Twin Mountain. The live bear was sitting at the table and appeared to be eating lunch!"

This is all over Facebook (back here).  I've seen some pretty funny comments.  I happen to like this one best:  

      "He coulda had a V8".

It's mine.  :)

The Kindness of Strangers: In Memoriam

This post was originally published May 6, 2009. Today we learned this man, so kind, so beloved by all, died this weekend and we are saddened by his passing.

RIP PHIL KELLY
Another Cup'a Jo by cole scott images

This is a photograph of a man in our town who runs a wonderful little coffee shop. When we first moved here, our entire life savings were on hold for two weeks til the bank "cleared" it for transfer. We had, as I recall, about $110 in cash and we ran through that right away. In those first two weeks, we found office space and set up shop working in the main village. It was lunch time, we were hungry and I took a stroll down the main drag to find a restaurant and order a meal to go. All I had was my credit card.

The first restaurant didn't take credit cards. Only cash. Same with the second restaurant, same with the third. I kept thinking I was in small town hell and I wandered into this fella's place. It smelled like a good old fashioned lunch counter, thick hot cheeseburgers with grilled onions, homemade berry pies, strong coffee. He asked for my order but I told him my story first. No sense wasting his time if his policy was the same as everyone else. He looked me up and down and said,

"I don't take credit cards. What do you want to eat?"

I said "I can't pay you."

He said, "I know you're good for it."

Seriously. He took my order, made our lunch, gave it to me in a paper sack and told me to pay him when the bank transferred the money. I think it was about $11.00.

When the money came in, I was in his place like a shot. We've been friends ever since.

My husband took this photo of him recently in his new place. He is much beloved.

In all the years we've moved around, I've had wonderful encounters with people, particularly in smaller towns. This is one of my favorites.

Book Review: Shirley Jones

In an autobiography that should have been titled "Jack Cassidy  My Sick Passion". three quarters of this book is about her first husband, his womanizing, his bi-sexuality, his indifference to his four sons, his substance abuse.  And she can't get enough of the guy while she recounts his cruelty, egomania, jealousy of her success and his big dong.  

You heard that right.  The guy was well-endowed with a capital "D".

Shirley Jones proceeds to destroy any and all ideals we may have about her...and not in a good way.

My MIL bought the book, read it and gave to me.  As a long time lover of musicals, my favorite being "The Music Man", I thought I'd be reading about Robert Preston, Gordon MacRae, Burt Lancaster, her co-star in "Elmer Gantry" and her Hollywood experiences.  If those are your interests, don't bother to buy the book.  They are all footnotes.

Instead, we get blow-by-blow descriptions of her sex life with Jack and his with others.  No spoilers here.  You'll get an eyeful if you read reviews.  What she does is her business, but some things are not meant to be shared.  She leaves a legacy of embarrassment to her sons and grandchildren.  

Suffice to say, I would have subtitled the book:

"If you want to be disappointed, read this."

Happy Birthday My Son

My son, his girlfriend 2011 Anna Maria Island

My sons are on an extended trip Down Under.  They plan to be away at least one, possibly two years.  This is the birthday email I sent to my youngest who turned 25 last wk.

Son, 

Every birthday, every year, takes me back to the first few years of your life.  I loved my pregnancies and took great joy knowing I was going to have children.  Believe me, once upon a time,  I could have been voted "Least likely to have children".  But you and your older brother are the blessings Dad and I were given.  

The day of your birth I was frightened, as was your father, not because there was anything wrong with you; you were quite perfect.  We just thought ourselves so lucky after the birth of your brother, I think we wondered if lightening could possibly strike twice.

It did.  His name is Fletcher.  He is you.

Twenty five is a benchmark of sorts, but it may not be the turning point of your life.  You'll probably not remember, in later years, why you expected it should be so.  I know I cannot remember my 25th birthday at all.  

You need not have your life mapped.  Twenty five is a compass.  It's pointing you in directions.  You have to choose the road on which to travel and go go go.  I think you and your brother are doing this now on your extraordinary trip to Australia and beyond.  A year or two away from home is a life changing experience.  If it seems haphazard at times, remember, life can be complicated and messy and difficult.  It can also be sweet and simple and it is God's greatest gift.

Use your talent, your brains, your personality and make things happen.  Trust iin yourself, even when you make mistakes.  A mistake is simply taking a path that didn't work out.  Take another!!!  You don't stop hiking when you come to a dead end.

I'm proud of you and the man you've become.  You're generous, kind, loving, smart, artistic and you think out of the box; not an easy thing to do.  For once in my life, I'll credit your father with that trait.

I wish you love and happiness.

Mom

Theme Thursday: Passion

The Theme this week is technically "Passions" but I choose to post the newest work of passion by my husband, fine art photographer, Cole Scott.  The image is singular as is my title.

Trees and Clouds I

Cole Scott

For more Theme Thursday, go here.   For more Cole Scott Photography, go here.

Disneyland Opening Day July 17, 1955

This brings back memories from the "happiest place on earth" as Walt Disney liked to call his Magic Kingdom.  Disneyland opened in Anaheim, CA on this day 58 years ago.  There had never before been anything quite like it. Walt kept it simple:  Main Street USA, Fantasyland, Adventureland, Tomorrowland.  

What kid couldn't remember that?    

I first visited the park within a year of its opening.  My father worked in the broadcast industry;  the original ABC studios were across the street from his office on Hollywood & Vine.  ABC helped finance the park.  One of their early hits was "Disneyland", later to become "Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color" in 1959.  At that time, ABC was a fledgling network taking on the mighty CBS & NBC, competing for advertisers, viewers and loyal media buyers. As a national broadcast rep, Dad helped sell advertising onto the network working with buyers in LA, NY, Chicago, etc.    He was regularly spiffed with tickets to Disneyland and we went every year from the time it opened.  He'd take us out of school.  He hated crowds and waiting in line.  

My brother and I would wait with baited breath for Dad to announce our trip.  He usually took us in the Fall.  Enroute, after we connected from the 101 to the 5 Fwy aka the Santa Ana, my brother and I would start the game,   "Who can spot the Matterhorn first?"  The Matterhorn opened in 1959 with a bobsled ride.  They were thrilling!

As a kid, one of my favorite rides was the Autopia.

We'd pretend we were real drivers in real cars.  We could steer,

we could brake, we could bump the car ahead of us.   The track was enclosed and safe but we always felt we had control.  It was amazing! 

My childhood and teen years are wrapped up with Disneyland.  After I was old enough to go without the folks, a gang of us would go to ride the attractions during the day and dance at night.  They had dancing pavilions and it was fun.   They also had strict dress codes.  Boys had to tuck their shirts in. No mini skirts on girls.  We could wear shorts during the day but if we wore a skirt or dress it had to come to the middle of the knee.  Of course, we thought that was stupid.

Many Southern California high schools held their Grad Nights at Disneyland, including ours. The park would close to the public at dusk and reopen around 8pm as busloads of graduating high school teens arrived, unloaded and took over til dawn.  It was unbelievable.  I went to three grad nights with three graduating boyfriends. Lucky me!

Head shots from Grad Night 1969 Disneyland

When our boys were young and we'd just moved back to San Diego from Virginia, we took them to Disneyland.  It's a rite of passage.  By that time, the evil emperor, Michael Eisner, was CEO.  Roy Disney was off the board.  Walt was long dead.  Eisner turned Disneyland into a commercial money machine with product lines galore from every conceivable movie made.  He retired the great artists long considered filmdom's finest animators, cheapening the resulting product.  Our boys loved it, of course.  My husband and I found the park a bit more sterile, not as tidy and disappointing.  Was it the magic of our youth we no longer saw?  Or was it simply the new corporate "look" too often duplicated?  I vote the latter.

People talk about Disney World in Florida.  I've never been.  My children are grown now and the likelihood of going to DW is slim.   For me, it's Disneyland in Anaheim that will always hold a special place in my heart.