On the Porch!

It was the day after Valentine’s Day, and John noticed the temperature was 71 F (21.6 C). We promptly took the last of our Valentine cake out to the porch to enjoy the warmth while we ate. My definition of porch weather begins at 65 F, so we could probably have eaten lunch outside earlier. Surely this was the earliest we’ve ever done this! Last year we were out there at least once in March and once in December when daughter Lise was here. Those are the fringe months.

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Valentines to Go

Valentine prep began two days ahead. I prepared yeast dough that rose in the refrigerator overnight. I baked one set of strawberry rolls, washed the heart-shaped baking dishes, and baked another set so that all were ready by the afternoon of the 13^th. The most difficult part was finding the neighbors at home to deliver them.

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We wanted something special for neighbor Logan (7), something not edible. I picked out the mug decorated with hearts. Inside the red tissue paper was John’s choice – a black truck with a friction motor. I don’t know what happened to the mug, but Logan played with the truck the whole time we were chatting with his parents.

Do you ever give things away without tasting them? We had a rather late breakfast on Valentine’s Day, as we do most days. I assumed the rolls were edible. The thought just struck me that if the neighbors had been sickened, they could have been on the way to the hospital before I suspected anything was wrong. If you are really good at worrying, you can worry in reverse like I do.

John surprised me with a balloon and chocolates. He ran errands with our son the day before and hid the gifts in the garage. They were in the kitchen long before I went in to get breakfast ready. We had one bought donut each and a strawberry roll.

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I apologized to John for not having bought him anything, and he said, “You did buy me something.”

My open-book face showed perplexity. “I bought you something?”

“Yes,” he said, “at the supermarket. When I commented on liking chocolate-covered raisins as a child, you threw the pack in the cart.”

And they say men are oblivious!!!

“…and the Creek don’t Rise”

Most Americans know the caveat about promising to do something “good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise”. Well, the creek did rise here! In fact, it’s the highest we’ve ever seen it. We’ve had rain off and on for days and happened to be at the creek shortly after a pause.

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I can assure you, we would not be standing beside the creek if it flooded. Theoretically, that is the lowest part of the valley. If the water flowed over the banks, much of the land would be covered. The creek was quite muddy, but the roar was muted. It makes more sound if rocks are protruding above the water. The two tiny streams near our house made an inordinate amount of noise due to the increased volume of water. That’s when I wish we lived beside them. If I get desperate enough, I’ll play a CD of a mountain stream.

Exuberance!

We hit it right and walked at rush hour in the ‘hood today. About six people were heading for work, and then there was the school run – Bob driving Logan (7) to the stop sign where he catches the school bus. Logan waited until we were almost to the car and seemed to be running before the door was fully open. How can one small body hold such extreme energy? As John chatted with Bob, I watched the boy run for the sheer joy of it. He jumped the ditch over and over, finally landing in the middle of it.

“Your shoes would be wet if water had been there,” I said.

Logan replied with a grin, “Nope! I waterproofed my shoes.”

As usual, I understood about 30% of what he said. Unbeknownst to me, the subject changed when he spoke of “lava shoes” three jumps later. “Firemen have clothes and shoes that won’t catch fire.”

“Do you want to be a fireman?” I asked.

Logan replied firmly, “No. I want to work at McDonald’s.”

I was sorry to see the bus chugging up the hill, because I was dying to ask WHAT he wanted to do there. Can you imagine him about twelve years from now? He’s the assistant manager, in three places at once, and putting out figurative fires at 70 miles per hour. McDonald’s will never be the same again.

Wardrobe Malfunction

When daughter Lise was here at Thanksgiving, we bought look-alike tops. They were made of extremely soft polyester, rather fuzzy and quite warm. Since it wasn’t particularly cold at the time, I don’t think she wore hers here. I wore mine a week or so ago and noticed that it had a tendency to creep upwards. I pulled at it all day long. Thinking it would have been cured in the washing machine, I put it on again this morning before walking. Whoa! Big mistake! After chatting with neighbor Marla at the quarter point of my walk, I realized the top had decided to slither up. There were two other layers on top – a sweater and a windbreaker. How bad could it get? I trotted off downhill to the stream. I should realize by now that when I ask myself a question, I should wait for a considered opinion.

The top was bunching up as I passed the cafe. I was acutely aware that neighbors Shawn and Bob might be inside having breakfast. They spoke to me as they passed in their vehicles, and they turned into the cafe parking lot. I hoped they were in the hardware area instead of the cafe if my top was going to embarrass me. Shame would be bad enough before strangers, but please! not dear neighbors! I would have given anything to pull that top down, because I was beginning to feel like the Michelin Man, with lumpy spare tires gathering momentum around my middle.

Years ago one could feel safe pulling at clothes when no one was looking. Now? There could be hidden security cameras recording your every move. I crossed the highway and passed the fire station. Two men and a woman were examining a pickup truck in the parking lot, possibly considering a purchase. Surely the hefty truck would hold their interest while I walked by.

As I huffed and puffed up the steep hill, I longed to take off the windbreaker. Air! Air! In front of Marla’s house, off came the windbreaker. The top had bunched up and was trying to wave at all the cars from the neck of the sweatshirt. I reasoned that as long as I kept my arms down, the slithery top could not possibly creep over my head. When not picking my way through two icy patches, I let my hands check the hem of the sweatshirt from time to time. Thank heavens it seemed firmly anchored to the jeans, well below the danger line. Our front door never looked so inviting! I rushed through it and sagged with relief that I had made it home without exposing more than hand and facial skin.

Would you agree that worry alone should have burned more calories than usual?

Streaming Adventure

The day was not off to a good start because I was nervous about getting to an appointment on time, upset that the gas card was rejected while John was traveling, and annoyed that the little freezer demanded an emergency defrosting. A day later, two of my concerns have been resolved, and the other will be eventually when I set aside an hour or so to be on hold with customer service, a definite misnomer.

After my skin got its annual “all clear” from the dermatologist, son John $ suggested we go somewhere for fun. Without saying a word about my state of mind, he set out to lift my spirits. We had a rather late start, but he made the most of the time. We drove through the gorge, one of my favorite places to be. If you’ve ever driven I-40 between Knoxville and Asheville, you’ll know the area I’m talking about. The highway winds its way along the Pigeon River with steep mountains looming on both sides. It is gorgeous and so different from valley views.

It took me years to realize that a day or a week in $’s company has a theme. One summer he teased our grandsons (his nephews) about the mythical wampus cats in this area. Last year a common thread with the boys was introduced by saying, “This reminds me of THE HUNT.” The ensuing conversation was done in an upper-class English accent. The theme for our jaunt this time was from the British comedy Keeping up Appearances. John imitated Hyacinth, Mrs Bucket, as she would say with utter disdain, “It’s BOUQUET.” I couldn’t help laughing every time.

We got off the interstate in Tennessee and drove to a camping area beside Big Creek. The camp was closed for the season, but people were welcome to park and wander by the stream. As we got out of the car, $ asked if I wanted my cane. I’d brought it in case we walked on uneven ground or needed to go on stairs without railings. We started up the trail, but turned back when a fallen tree blocked our way. We spent the rest of the time leaning on the sturdy bridge over the creek. What a delight it was! $ was a marvelous companion, never looking at the time or shuffling his feet with impatience. It was very restful to be with him, suspended in time, looking and listening to the stream.

I know by now that not all streams are created equal. Big Creek is filled with large boulders atop great slabs of smooth rock. Our local Jonathan Creek is more shallow and lacks the dramatic boulders. Because we were there for a long time, I saw things a mere appreciative glance would not have revealed. The lower angle of the sun showed intricate patterns of light in the swirling water. $ likened it to fish scales, overlapping and shimmering.

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I didn’t catch other dazzling lines that appeared on submerged rocks, as good as any sound and light show. As the sun went lower, it created shadows from the ripples. Those shadows looked like lively creatures, wiggling downstream for a few seconds before slipping away. I could almost see that when playing the short video in repeat mode.

Even with jackets on, we were beginning to get chilled. Chills make you move faster than a timer would! We were home in plenty of time for $ to pack up and head out to see friends in Asheville. I really appreciate his taking me out and restoring my equilibrium with several hours of mountain fun.

What’s Good about Fresh Spit?

Did you know spit is good for you?? I found that out while having my teeth cleaned for possibly the 140^th time. Meghan, the hygienist, was scraping away on the back side of my front teeth. I got my question in before she could fill my mouth with three instruments again.

“You are spending lots of time in one area. Is there something wrong?” I asked.

Unlike me, able to do only one thing at a time, she answered while deftly wielding sharp and pointy tools. She said, “You have a buildup of plaque. Saliva has many good functions in a healthy mouth, but where there is spit, there is likely to be plaque. A large salivary gland under your tongue results in these lower teeth being bathed in it. Some people don’t have much saliva, resulting in dry mouth. Bacteria thrive in dry mouths, so spit is good.”

Reconnecting in the ‘Hood

I was walking alone because John went to the school attached to our church to read to the students. It was Pajama Day, so perhaps he took the role of bed-time story-teller.

I first connected with Little Cat at the top of our street. As John drove out, he opened his window and commented that our theory wasn’t correct. It was not our duo conversation that drew the cat to come to us. I tried one-handed photos of it, but I wasn’t quick enough to get good ones. You can see the first step onto the road, a side shot, the view of the top of the head, and my hand scratching the neck.

Neighbor Joyce stopped to thank me for my text about local black ice. The temperature was right at the freezing point. She said she just saw a coyote crossing the road near the big bend. She grew up in this area of Western North Carolina and is familiar with the wild animals here. I’ve never seen one in the wild.

I should have noticed Marla in her neon-bright green jacket, but my brain was idling far away. She was glad to know Joyce had seen a coyote in broad daylight. She never lets dog Albert run free, but would be aware of the danger it could pose. We had a lovely chat about teaching when I told her John had gone to the church elementary school to read. She found out she was quite a disciplinarian when she dealt with larky teens. She prefers the middle-school ages. I’m allergic to all children in a school setting.

I commiserated with neighbor Dawn about the cold weather. She was on her way to her volunteer job where she is very faithful, despite working in a cavernous, frigid building. Their house pipes froze in the last cold spell. Did any burst? No, the pump froze, so after they thawed the pipes under the fake stone cover, the water flowed again. It was the night she forgot to leave faucets dripping that it happened. They had no water for the half hour it took to thaw the pump. Note to self: keep the faucets dripping when the temps are in the teens.

Little Cat rejoined me for the walk back to my street. There were stops for petting, but mostly he/she listened to all the sounds in the area. She stopped in the middle of the street before we got to my house. Perhaps that was outside her comfort zone. My comfort zone was inside, where John had left the coffeepot on for me.

Tables Turned!

When we came home from church, neighbor Logan and his niece Lily were on our porch. They were knocking on our front door, thinking we were home. It didn’t take long for us to gather our things from the car and let them in. They roamed about the house, checking things out. There wasn’t a book they both wanted to read, and the games Logan usually plays on the computer could not be played by two people. They would have been mismatched for games and puzzles. Our piano was the main attraction.

“Do you know a song to play, Lily?” John asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I can play Twinkle Twinkle.”

She looked at a child’s piano instruction book and then pulled some of my music from the bench and put it on the rack upside down.

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The star didn’t twinkle at all as she pressed random notes. She announced she would play the alphabet song. She probably didn’t realize the two have the same melody. She then did something I thought was amazing. She pressed every white key from middle C to the top of the keyboard while singing the alphabet song. I have a cute photo of her at the piano, but I haven’t asked her parents for permission to publish it.

Lily hopped off the piano bench and swooped down on my camera, saying, “I’m going to take a picture of you.”

The tables had turned, and I was no longer behind the camera! I turned it on, and Lily took a photo of me. All who know me would say I had it coming.

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She moved the camera too quickly after trying to take John’s picture. The third try was the best.

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I keep from 700 to 1,000 photos a year and get caught in front of the camera at least twice. If we were going to make a rule to cover this, I’d say for every 500 photos I take, I should pose for one. Fair enough?

A Winter Walk

We didn’t walk outside for five days in the past week because of rain/snow/ice/teen temps. Mostly we avoided falling rain and black ice. The lowest temperature was 4F/-15.5C. Brrr! Half a walk was our limit today, because it was 14F/-10C. The road was clear in only a few places and rather crunchy underfoot in others.

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We are neighbor Joyce’s Road Testers. Our walk begins shortly before she drives to work, so we will alert her if there are dangerous conditions.

I texted, “On duty. Road snowy at bend. Not particularly icy.”

Her reply: “Okay you crazies! March on! But be careful.”

She was glad I texted her again when we were home safely. Joyce, having lived in Georgia many years, has an internal temperature that plummets in cold weather. She freezes until there is danger of sun stroke outside. I’ve told people here that we still have our heavy winter coats from New York, and that’s the secret to keeping warm. My coat really is heavy. It weighs 2.6 pounds! (1.179 kilograms) Even if it gets shabby, there is no way I’ll get rid of it. John would call that job security, for the coat, anyway.

Our feet made beautiful crunching sounds on the snowy road. Two cars passed us, when there would be seven or eight on a normal day. The weight of the cars did not melt or compress the snow, just left perfectly-formed tire tracks. We turned around at the stop sign, because John’s toes were rapidly cooling and my hands were cold. A hearty breakfast came next. With son John $, we had bacon, livermush, cheese melted on eggs, English muffins, and all the coffee we wanted. Would you say we earned it?