A bit of a sad goodbye

 When my last grand aunt died in August, just days before her 103rd birthday, her celebration of life was delayed by hurricanes, damage and home repairs and because much of the remaining family would come from elsewhere, scheduling. She survived all of her close friends, and her place of worship had been razed, so her daughter was not initially sure what to do.

After much thought and planning, the arts center named for her older sister and brother-in-law was chosen, catering was completed and the remaining family came, minus yours truly, who cannot travel. I was surprised that 150 were planned for. A video, some poems, stories, music and more than a few sweet memories will be shared by the assembled and I have been told to expect a video.

She was beautiful, generous, kind and funny and loved her family and friends unreservedly. especially her late husband and their daughter. 

A candle is burning here in her memory.

As was said in her obituary, heaven has indeed gained another star.

A whole lot of blah. blah, blah

 My reading continues. One of the comments from my last post asked why anyone would care if I did not want a television. Apparently, at least two individuals of my acquaintance did, to the point of asking about it or telling me that I would regret not having one.

Growing up, my maternal grandparents had a 50's era set that was huge, an actual piece of furniture which they kept until moving back to the US from their jobs overseas. When my mother and I moved from their home in the early sixties, we did not have a TV. It wasn't until late 1965 or early 66 that we were gifted one from a former boyfriend of my mother's who was moving. presumably to a new duty station. It too was rather large and black and white and held my interest only briefly. usually in the evenings.

When my mother remarried in 1969, both she and stepfather had televisions, so we had one in the living room and the other in their bedroom. They sometimes competed with one another which made for intolerable noise levels for me, so I was usually the one to turn off the set and retreat to a book. For my eleventh birthday, I was surprised with a small portable black and white TV which, along with a mini fish tank, stole valuable real estate from my upright chest of drawers. My mother and her husband considered the television a mark of affluence and took pleasure from being able to provide that. My portable lasted into the mid-eighties when I then purchased a slightly larger color set from a roommate that did not wish to move it when she left. 

I had that set until 2009 when the world switched from analog to digital and the box purchased from the government to aid in reception did not work in this apartment. I returned it and because I was also downsizing belongings which made my space an obstacle course from a chair, the television, a coffee table and other items were bid farewell despite the protests of a friend who did not understand how I could live without them.

This brings me back to the question of why anyone should care whether I or you choose not to have a resident boob tube. I think that it is easy to make assumptions and never question habits or beliefs and to also think that just because I have always had something that I need it or I'm entitled to it. It may be difficult to understand why another thinks or feels differently, but that is fruit for discussion and learning, not criticism and protestation. 

Anyway, that is my two cents. what is yours?

Quiet

The furry boy and I have had a fairly laid back day. Aside from household chores, I've now finished two audiobooks and returned them. The third, a book called The Baby Thief, was used by the author of the first two as part of her research. I'll discuss all three when the third book is completed since all three are related. Thanks to those of you who took the time to let me know of your interest.

Aside from this, I await a small grocery delivery of odds and ends and look forward to a night of no screen time. It astounds me how dependent we've all become on computers, laptops, tablets and phones. I once had a visitor to my home survey the front room with her eyes then ask, "Where is the television?" When I replied that I did not own one, she was incredulous. She never cane again and I find it funny that people think they cannot live without it, especially today.

What do you think?

Cheers!

 

Another Monday

 Lukas has been a bit grumpy late night and today. He had fluids at the vet and is in a much better frame of mind and enjoying an early lunch. I've paid bills, tidied and made a pot of decidedly non-Koi pond soup. It was warm and lovely at first taste, and I hope it will be even better tomorrow. The fun of using what may be on hand in hurricane supplies led to a great pot of chicken noodle with vegetables.

I caught up with a  friend of over fifty years and we talked about all sorts for over an hour today which was nice, There are not too many people she or I have around that  either of us will speak to for that length of time. It is wonderful to know we can do that when the mood strikes.

I've completed my second book of the month and now have started three more. I don't usually have three on the go, but one is from the library with a loan limit and another is a loan from a friend. The third I began before either of the other two were available. Did anyone enjoy the synopsis of the book by Sylvia Nash? Would you like the same for the most recently completed book?

What are you reading?

More to come. Cheers.

Trashed

 It is a balmy 55 F as I write and just before 8 AM. The trash truck has just been and gone which means I can make a run once Lukas is out the door and on his way to his midweek appointment, He has a harem of vet ladies who love him despite his grumpiness at having to get fluids and ride in a car.

Fortunately, his pet sitter is endowed with a sunny disposition and has a sense of humor. She plays music for him on the way and back and her small sons love him. If any of you remember the comic strip about an orange cat named Garfield. that may provide an insight into Lukas. 

As for me, I am reading a lengthy autobiography and will work on a jigsaw over my morning's hot drink. I use to love doing the same with the papers, both local and national, but those days are behind me.

Having made an aborted attempt at dumping the household trash, I am disgusted that people think our trash man will pick up a shelf, a desk chair and the remains of a lamp? and some large boxes.  I was unable to get close enough to the dumpster cage to even think of opening the side because of all of the debris left out around it.

The alternatives, such as breaking down containers and boxes for re-cycling, donating unwanted items or arranging for pick up all require forethought and some attempt at consideration.

One of many factors that cause me pangs of regret over ever having come here.

Years ago, post Katrina, New Orleans put signage on all city receptacles saying, "Trash your city, trash yourself." 

I think we need to do the same.

Cold

 It has warmed to 40 F with the sun, but is still cold inside despite the heating. Today is vet day and the boy has already been and come home, grumpily. I'm convinced his back legs bother him in the cold just as my knees. ankles, hands and spine do when temperatures fall.

I'm waiting for some groceries to be delivered and will be batch cooking for the rest of the week later today. The laundry is done, the kitchen and bath cleaned and mopped and the bed made, I've got to check litter box, cat food and water and tidy the front room before sending out some notes.

You know you've reached the pinnacle of decrepitude when you have to flex your fingers and pause while typing or as you hand write a card. The other day, I mentioned sending a thank you card for something to someone with whom I was on the phone. After a brief pause, the response was, "Do people still do that?"

Well, this dinosaur still does.

It is a glove day. Have a sweet one.

 

 It is just a few degrees above freezing here and still dark at 6:30 AM. I am about to make some split pea soup, now called "Koi pond soup" after another blogger made that remark about what it looked like in a photo I took. I used carrots which combined with the swampy green in the pot, evidently brought a Koi pond to mind for this person. I'm not sure I'd have said the same had our positions been reversed, but the comment has stuck.

Aside from that the day is dedicated to my To Do  List which includes a variety of cleaning, clearing and sorting as well as a couple of calls and some correspondence. I've not been able to access the local library online to verify my card due to technical problems on their end, so reading and movies are out and I've taken up a puzzle and some crosswords.

The bananas do not appear to be ripening enough to be eaten anytime before the next century despite being in a closed brown paper bag atop the refrigerator. So much for that trick.

Lukas has kept me busy cleaning up after him, his ever-obedient cat servant. 

The things we do for love.

First book of 2023 completed

 Benjamin's Ghosts is a work of genealogical fiction by American author, and genealogist, Sylvia Nash. This book is the first in a series of five centered on a woman, Enid Gilchrist, who lives in  small town Tennessee and works as a genealogist in the public library. As such, she also solves mysteries related to family histories, southern history and American history.

The book opens with Benjamin, Enid's boss, researching several families in his area and seeking permission to present his findings at local historical society meetings which are open to the public.

Unfortunately, while these presentations are popular, someone who does not wish family secrets unearthed uses a bust during a heated moment as a weapon for murder, and Benjamin is no more.

His housekeeper is subsequently found dead following a call to Enid while his niece. kidnapped from her assisted living facility and left to fend for herself on a busy highway. is rescued by a driver who calls police. Soon, Enid, her lifelong friend, the chief of police and the niece's daughter, all find themselves in the crosshairs of a killer. 

Focusing on the families who were the subject of Benjamin's investigations and hints for hiding places of related papers and journals left by both Benjamin and his housekeeper, a list of suspects and possible scenarios is developed, and the reader is quickly drawn into a civil war-era tale of family discord and disinheritance stretching into the present day.

Twists and turns lead to a killer's confession, and the eventual reunification of two lines in a family tree. 

Having read this as the penultimate rather than the first in this series as I should have done, I was disappointed that motives came down to one son in a Confederate family supporting the Union and being thus disinherited and then killed by his brother for money, thereby aborting a planned reconciliation. However, the plot once again brings to light the ugly truth that people often do heinous things for money. The institution and support of slavery was indeed that and the racism remaining in its wake today is a running theme in this series, as is the "family secret."

On her website, Nash acknowledges her penchant for tackling issues in her writing though she doesn't set out to write on a specific issues or know where they will lead. A former English teacher, she is the author of several series, short stories and other works and resides in Tennessee.

If this isn't your cup of tea, there well may be another book along the way which sparks an interest as I read rather widely.

What are you reading this month?

  

Green Bananas

 Midweek groceries arrived with the green bananas as in they were just cut from the tree and shipped. The last bunch I had like that never ripened at all, just rotted without being able to be eaten. Disappointment doesn't cover what this previously raised in the tropics woman felt about the waste, not enjoying her yogurt, peanut butter or cereal as usual or simply being unable to snack on one. First world problems. I know but part of me thinks, "Food costs a bloody fortune and I paid for this?"

I'm attempting to ripen them in a paper bag atop the refrigerator. 

Has anyone had success with this?

Cheers!

A special kindness

As a longtime wheelchair user, my hands are vital and sometimes take a beating, get scraped, bruised or blistered. While leather padded body builders gloves protect palms and fingers to a point and aid in gripping rims, they do not last long and sometimes irritate the skin when inside seams or threads are rough. After repeated wearing and washing, a few pairs have literally come apart.

Offered a handmade pair specially crafted for yours truly by a blogger friend, I was overjoyed when these arrived in the mail. Not only are they colorful and soft, but they help grip, stay in place and wash and dry well with mild soap, hot water and air drying.

Thank you. dear Boud, for thinking of me and so beautifully crafting these. I love wearing them.
 

Loud

 Our new year has certainly been noisy so far as someone is doing  a lot of hammering. Whether upstairs or next door is hard to tell but either way. it is loud. Lukas has hunkered down on the loveseat closest to my desk as I write and I plan to spend the remainder of the day in my bedroom, as far away as I can get from the racket. Folks have gone back to work as well which means the sounds of road traffic compete with whatever construction is happening here. Thankfully. it is late in the day and maybe the noise will cease after five though I doubt it.

Sometimes living in small spaces with shared walls leaves a lot to be desired.

At least the neighborhood ducks are quiet. and speaking of, what do you think of this?

What began shrouded in fog

 Very early morning here, shrouded in fog, was finally quiet after 3 AM when nearby neighbors. having exhausted their ample supplies of fireworks and bottle rockets. deigned to go to sleep. That left some of the rest of us dealing with small, frightened or agitated animals who either would not sleep or who had secreted themselves not to emerge until daylight. My elderly, chronically ill cat now lies in a spent heap on his favorite chair after a night of constant pacing and hypervigilance. I finally nodded off about 5 AM and feel neither rested nor content at this moment.

I'm hoping the early morning fog isn't some strange metaphor for what lies ahead...

My intended, traditionally southern New Year lunch has now become early dinner, with hope for a blissfully quiet evening. 

I wish you all the same.