A Superlative Day, Relatively Speaking

We saw Manhattan coming and going. Driving from Pennsylvania, we saw the west side from New Jersey.

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We had lunch out with daughter Kate and Michael, celebrating her Veteran’s Day birthday. Michael made a cake himself and put it together with real whipped cream and strawberries. Impressive! It was a most enjoyable visit.

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Michael mentioned his handyman hair cutting tool and had Kate model it. She holds it as he cuts her hair evenly.  In her other hand are the beaters Michael used to whip the cream.

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From New Jersey, we went across the Tappan Zee bridge to cross the Hudson River and down to Westchester County to pick up grandson David. He was waiting for us in front of his dorm. I tried a photo of the east side of Manhattan from the car as we streaked out to Long Island to see grandson Nathaniel.

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We had pizza from our favorite place that was close to our old home. Wanting to visit without interruption, we ate in the car at the harbor where I used to walk every morning.

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David and Nate before eating pizza in the car

David and I chatted all the way to and from Long Island, so it was Nathaniel’s time to talk. We loved hearing about the things he has done in cooking class and admired his cake. He did what you see except for the flowers that his teacher made.

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After two hours with Nathaniel, we took him home and headed back to the college. I wanted to know what David was doing in his accounting course. He said I wouldn’t want to know, but of course, I did. They are setting up books using 13-column sheets. Real sheets of paper? Yes. I said in the accounting office where I worked, they got rid of them years ago, switching to computer spreadsheets. They don’t have computers in that class. One thing is for sure, he will really appreciate getting back to computer work after that.

There was a new low in our motel – do-it-yourself toilet paper. John saw a plastic thing in the sink and didn’t immediately recognize it as the TP holder. Thank heavens we found a new roll in the bathroom and put the two together.

Writer’s Paradise

What a fabulous thing it was to spend a couple of hours with one of my writing idols! I don’t remember how I found her blog, but I followed her soon after I began blogging. We were similar in a number of ways. Our differences intrigued me. I found Dor to be a gifted writer with a sense of humor, and you can’t beat that in my book. Each time we passed her town on our way to New York, I wondered what it would be like to meet her in person. I had a hunch our husbands would get along. Bill grew up in the Bronx, and John was born in Brooklyn, raised in Queens, and went to high school in the Bronx. They would talk the same language, wouldn’t they? My hunch turned into lunch.

We arranged to meet for lunch in the historic town, which was easy to coordinate with texting. Recognition was a cinch, since we’d seen each other’s photos many times. It was delightful to relax and enjoy chatting in a quiet restaurant. If you have a chance, visit her blog here, and you’ll know why I enjoy her so much.

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On the way out of town, we drove by VMI, Virginia Military Institute. That, too, I had noticed on highway signs and longed to see. I finally got there, Tom and John (alums)! It was most impressive, although my photo from the car doesn’t do the place justice. I loved seeing the handsome cadets filing out of a building as classes let out.

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The weather was gorgeous. We were pleased to note that trees became more colorful the longer we drove. Our mountain trees are past prime, because of the warmth and drought. I finished writing in the car, under the light of an almost-full moon.

 

Mixcalculation

Some typos are too good to correct. The title should have been Miscalculation. The last sentence of the previous post included the equation for calculating the time of sunrise anywhere in the world. Of course, I didn’t use that. I looked at some weather app and set my alarm accordingly. I should have known something would go wrong. Up to waking point, this had been the easiest daylight savings time change of my life. I did not run around like a demented chicken (no offense, Faye) changing all the clocks I could find/remember on Saturday night. On Sunday morning I changed the grandfather’s clock (apostrophe appropriate, Ellie, because the clock that had belonged to my granddad hangs on a wall). On the way to church, we had our separate jobs. John drove, and I changed the clock in the car – equal division of labor. Sunday afternoon I reset the microwave and clock times. The rest could wait.

The alarm sounded on Monday morning. There was supposed to be a hint of light outside. It was black. I had gone to bed early enough to be rested by 6, and so I was. The morning didn’t match. There was not enough light to walk by until 6:45. I am now older and wiser by a small margin. I think the sunrise calculation on the app had not caught up to the time change until Monday morning.

Next spring I plan to ignore the time switch completely and let the world tell me I’m wrong. I hope all of you had a smooth transition.

First Frost

The temperature was right at the freezing mark when I got up. About half an hour later there was enough light for me to see visible proof of frost on the railing. There was a slight crunch underfoot as I stepped onto the deck.

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I’m not good at reading rabbits. Are you? I wonder if the one I saw on the road had been shot. There were red bits around it, but I think they were undigested berries rather than frozen drops of blood. I’ll bet son John $ and grandson Nathaniel are glad they aren’t here for me to ask if one would like to skin the animal and the other to prepare Hasenpfeffer.

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When I climbed the steep hill on the way home, the sun was just about to peek above the mountain. Sunrise was officially at 7:58 according to computer weather, and it was probably an hour later than that. Have you ever wondered how sunrise is calculated? I looked it up and almost immediately flipped off the page before math hysteria could set in. If you’d like to see the equation, hold onto your chair and click here.

Solitary Walk and a Daring Statement

I noticed and wrote about four items on the daily walk, but I didn’t think solitary day two would be as good. That has happened before. As I mentioned in a reply, John and I talk the walk, chatting most of the time we are walking. When I talk or listen, it’s as if my eyes are blocked. John had a play date at the train club, so I was walking alone for several days. Sure enough, I did not notice much to write about on the second day.

Here are my observations:

I saw two honeysuckle blooms that will be frozen to death in 24 hours, and I spotted a dead blue glove on a driveway. The nearest mailbox to that driveway had a rubber band to hold the door shut, and the band has snapped.

That’s it. I had my hand ready to grab the little toy camera. There were any number of beautiful scenes, but each time I thought of taking a photo, I took off my brain filter. That filter sees the sun lighting up a mountain or notices a beautiful cloud formation while erasing poles, power lines, and unsightly debris. I know people Photo Shop those things out, but I’m not one of those.

Maybe because I had nothing interesting to write about, I found words coming out of my mouth that I never expected to hear. Neighbor Dawn stopped her car to speak to me as she drove to her volunteer job. She was urging me to get out and enjoy the outdoors, because colder temps are coming tonight. I grinned foolishly and said, “I am a writer.”

There! I said it! Always before, I danced around the subject by saying I like to write or I spend a lot of time writing. This time the bold statement hung in the air, unchallenged. I am not an author, one paid for written work, but I am a writer.

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View from the deck, the scene I see while writing  Shadow of the big oak covers the yard.
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Leaves of the old oak have settled on the ground

Well Dressing at the Creek?

Well dressing and dressing well are two different things. I was not dressed well when I saw what might have been a well dressing. In the Peak District in England people had a ritual for giving thanks for good water. They decorated wells with flowers and pictures made with blossoms. That was the first thing that popped into my mind when I saw Jonathan Creek decorated with red roses along the bank. Could a group have gathered here for such a purpose?

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Roses by the creek

Not likely! If there had been a ritual, it would have been called, “Taking the easy way out.” Those roses had bloomed continuously since June at the firehouse. I told myself to keep watch, because I wanted to know when the bushes were pruned. I walked within three feet of the rose hedge and didn’t notice the ugly sticks where the roses had been. I did the math (putting two and two together) when I stood at the edge of the creek and saw where the bushes had been dumped. Shame on the whackee!

Below is a photo I took of the repaving job at the firestation a year ago.   The rose bushes are there around the flagpole.

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Roses a year ago near the flagpole

 

There was a more lively scene not far from the stop sign. A young deer ran down the mountain and leaped over a fence onto the road. I was very excited, because we had been wanting to see wildlife in our neighborhood. So far we’ve seen a dead skunk on the road, a live one near our garden shed, and wild turkeys scurrying into the woods. This deer ran back toward the fence, decided the road was easier, and headed up again where there was no fence. I would have needed a body cam to catch that fleeting action.

Sorrell’s, the gas station/cafe, was busy today. I had to pick my way through the moving vehicles, hoping the drivers were paying attention. A man backed a truck out just before I reached him, and he stopped and rolled down his window. He said, “Y’all walk here all the time, don’t you? You do it for your health?”

I said we did. He said he lost 41 pounds since summer, not by dieting and not by exercising. In his mountain accent, he said, “I used to sit in front of the TV and eat right before going to bed. I didn’t sleep well, and I didn’t feel very good when I got up. Now I don’t eat anything after 6. Worked well for me.”

“I’ve seen y’all walking on the road. I swing way on the other side of the road when I go by you. Anybody ever come too close? Some people try to hit walkers because they don’t think they should be there.”

I told him I had one narrow escape, but it was because the driver was probably texting. We wished each other well before going our separate ways.

Back nearer home I saw two people with a dog each. It was neighbor Bob and his daughter Courtney. She is heading home today, back to the coast. During Hurricane Matthew a tree fell on their rented house, leaving a hole in the roof. The landlord repaired the inside without touching the roof! I presume this long, dry spell has been a good thing for her and her husband.

There was a small thing on the road that looked like a cat’s toy mouse. I’m glad it wasn’t moving, because it was a vole, a dead one. It had not been run over and had no visible wounds. It just lay there upside down, dressed in its velvety gray coat.

Halloween

Halloween was very quiet, as we knew it would be. However, we had double the number of trick or treaters we expected. Logan was the first, and I have to say his voice was the only thing I recognized. Because masks restrict a child’s ability to see, I don’t think costumes come with them any more. Logan didn’t need a mask. Shawn had devised his costume and made him up so well that I would have passed him by in a crowd. He was dancing with excitement while looking longingly at our bowl of candy. He carefully picked one small Kit Kat, and I asked if that was his favorite. It was. I told him to take them all and helped him fish them out. His eyes were still glued to the bowl. “Want to take some of the others?” YES. I was morphing into a wicked witch, urging him to satisfy his chocolate craving. [I apologize, Shawn and Bob. I was not being a nice neighbor to you!]

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Logan posed with an exceptionally nice smile.

We went outside to greet our surprise non-candy-eating Halloween prankster, Logan’s nephew from Turkey. He was dressed as a trainman.

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John opened the garage door and had Bob put Sufi (sp?) in his caboose for the photo op.

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It was almost dusk when we went to Connie, Dave, and Marla’s house. They had two Halloween visitors, also – Logan and a boy who lives across the street from them. Marla had ducked back in the house, but I got a shot of Connie and Dave on their porch. They had the most-decorated house in the area. I particularly liked the pumpkins and candles and made a point of avoiding the giant spider * shudder * We had a lovely, relaxed dinner with them.

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Most of Connie, Dave, and Marla’s decorations don’t show here.  My eye was on the spider.

I love their quiet wit. Dave, a retired policeman, explained that he always chose to work the night shift because that’s when things happened. He didn’t want to be bored during the day. Connie said, “We couldn’t persuade the criminals to be active from 9 to 5.”

I liked Dave’s story about an older boy who picked on him in grade school. We didn’t call it bullying back then. Dave’s older brother beat him up and warned him not to pick on Dave again. He didn’t, but he didn’t change his stripes, either. Years later Dave arrested him. By this time Dave was almost seven feet tall. He recognized his former tormentor and asked was he so-and-so. He was. He said, “I’m Dave, the one you used to attack after school. Do you want to pick on me now?”

Logan’s Practical Math

Logan gave us some sweets that his sister Brittainy and Mu brought from Turkey. We knew they were very special and ate them with ceremony. Ummm! Exquisite! As a welcoming nod, I baked chocolate chip cookies for them.

As I picked up the spatula, I said to Logan, “These are for your family, but I baked one extra for you right now. Which one would you like to have?”

He chose his cookie, and I began putting the rest on a paper plate.

“How many are there?” he wanted to know. I told him, and he stated there were seven people in his house. I countered with the number five, because I didn’t think they’d give the baby one. I’m not sure who number seven was. ???

It takes a while to sharpen one’s skills, but I remembered the last time Logan begged for a granola bar. It was dinnertime, and we said no. He said he would take it to school for snack the next day. Reluctantly, we agreed. At his walkway, he looked back and saw us watching. Did he manage to unwrap it and eat it before reaching his front door? Probably. How could I make sure these cookies would make it over there? Taking a piece of scrap paper, I drew circles, like ones I had seen his on math homework.

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Logan looked at the circles and picked up the pencil. He wrote “15 cookies”. I didn’t feel guilty for having given him one, because any six-year-old who can spell cookie by himself deserves one, don’t you think? Note the chocolate smudges at the bottom of the paper. I think of a cookie as clean food, but that isn’t necessarily so.

My reasoning was, if Logan knew how many cookies were sent for each person, he wouldn’t break the set. I asked, “How many cookies should each person get?”

I knew his homework involved adding and subtracting, not division. Logan didn’t know the answer. I explained there were five rows of three. No clue. Taking the pencil, I pointed to each row in turn and said, “Mama, Papa, Brittainy, Mu ….”

“I know! I know! Three!” he said.

Shawn texted that when Logan came in the house, “He announced loudly that everyone gets three cookies!”

The next text was, “Over n over! Ha ha”

Logan passed with flying colors. My question for anyone with grade school children is, how did I do with my first foray into new math?

Day 2, Watch Out!

If the previous post sounded idyllic, it was. We were fresh, and neighbor Logan (6) was on his best behavior. We left off with bedtime, when Logan chose to sleep on the recliner in my room. I wrote about him then, staying up far too late. Experience counts, though. Before going to bed, I hid the remote to the TV. One time when he was here, John found him watching a program at 2 or 3 in the morning.

Logan began stirring around 5 when it was still pitch black. I almost quit breathing so he wouldn’t guess I was awake. He must have been searching for the remote around 5:15. It didn’t take long for him to come back to speak to me in bed. He obediently climbed back on the recliner, covered up, and tried to sleep a bit more. You have to give him credit for staying down another 15 minutes. John often wakes and looks at the computer anywhere after 4, but he was wrapped in a blanket. He stirred enough to say he’d be up in a few minutes, so I handed Logan the remote and made a coffeecake where I could monitor what he watched.

John soon persuaded Logan to turn off the TV in order to play Chinese checkers. From the other room I heard Logan’s soft voice and John’s chuckling reply, “No, you can’t have ice cream for breakfast!” I had to smile, for I had already fended off requests for peanuts, cookies, and ice cream. Those were the requests I heard and understood.

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102916-peggityAfter we three walked Logan’s dogs, I put my Peggity set on the kitchen table. Did any of you ever play that game? It’s my favorite game that involves strategy, in fact, the only one I play willingly. I didn’t push it, just waited for Logan to see it and ask to play. After each game, I asked if we should put it away and play again another day. About six games later he agreed, and John took him to the playground. Playing Peggity with a beginner is a real challenge. I try to fix it so that the child wins every other game. Admittedly, I had lots of practice with our two grandchildren. Now they can beat me at will. That is what I really wanted, isn’t it?

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John and Logan walking Dolly and Abby

After lunch we suggested a nap. Logan was short of sleep, and so was I. I went to sleep and have no idea whether he slept or not. I’ll let you judge. Hearing car doors, I looked out and saw people carting suitcases into Logan’s house. It was almost exactly 24 hours after we got him from the school bus, and he was free to return home. I packed his bag while he hunted for his socks, and then he ran across the street. Picking up the pillow and blanket he had used, I found one other item in the recliner – a miniature Etch-a-Sketch.

Logan Spends the Night

These are exciting times in our neighborhood. We began the day walking toward the sunrise and the dawn mist.

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Shawn and Bob (our neighbors across the street) drove to Atlanta to pick up their daughter who flew in from Turkey. This would be the first time they would see their six-month-old grandson in person. The flight arrived in the evening, and no one could tell how long it might take to get through customs. Because of that, we kept their son Logan overnight. Fun for us!

We picked him up at the bus stop, and while Logan and John let the dogs out, I baked some chocolate chip cookies. We had our cookie break on the back porch.

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The fellows played a few games of Chinese checkers before we walked the two dogs to the stop sign and back. Logan scrambled up a steep bank with dog Abbie, where he waved to a passing car.

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As we walked, Logan wondered if he could go to a park to play. John was game, so the two of them went to the school playground to kick around his soccer ball. I prepared a jack o lantern meat pie.

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I knew Logan liked cantaloupe, so we had that and Snickers apple salad. He ate very nicely, taking seconds of the salad. Who wouldn’t? It had a Snickers candy bar in it! The recipe was on Food.com in a collection of Halloween foods. I cut the candy in such tiny pieces that Logan couldn’t pick them out from the crisp apple slices and cream cheese dressing.

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John supervised Logan’s shower, and I watched a television show with him before we put him to bed. The last time he was here, he began the night in the upper bunk bed and ended up on a recliner in my room. When given a choice this time, he chose the recliner.