Almost Fall Again

It's not hot, I'll give it that. I do wish it weren't 100% humidity out. I like to open a few windows in the morning and let the ocean breeze blow through the house, wafting away the odors of people that accumulate overnight while it's closed up. It's a quiet Saturday, early but light out. If I stand in the dining room and look toward where the ocean is, I can't see it, just the white blankness that is fog. Even the birds are a little quieter, waiting to see if it's still there. I really like living near the ocean, but I would like it better if there were not so many houses nearby, between me and the sea, crowded up next to me. Of course, now, at 7:30, it's still quiet. I tend to take the ocean for granted, I don't visit it every day, or swim very often, but I love knowing it's there. Would I like being on an island, with no one else around? I've read books about that, but it seems lonely. Looking for the balance. I don't want to be any further from my daughter and her family, just all these other people. 

Beverly is delightful in so many ways. We are members of the Cabot Theater, 100 years old. They have restored it and updated it--new seats, new HVAC. It has been closed for most of the pandemic, with shows scheduled outdoors at a nearby historic farm. They have been showing a few movies, but last night was the first live show in about 18 months: Madeleine Peyroux (and Joan Osborne). Osborne is my great-grandfather's middle name, but I don't know why--no relatives apparent with that name. As members, we got free tickets and a reception. Ray bought me some bourbon at the cash bar, but there wasn't exactly what I wanted for a mixer--I settled on soda. In a plastic cup, with almost enough ice. There were thick slices of beef tenderloin on baguette, peapods with chicken salad, deviled eggs (Ray's favorite) and more baguette with figs and mascarpone--excellent! We had eaten a small dinner, asparagus frittata, knowing there would be food at the show. 

Madeleine Peyroux has an incredible voice and distinctive style. We first heard her in Athens and this is the second time in Beverly. She must be 50 or so, but she seems timeless to me. She was wearing shiny leggings--not leather, something slinkier--and an overblouse. Her hair was short, to her chin, and dark. She's heavier now, but stands tall. The band was wonderful, too: keyboard, drum, bass, occasional harmonica. They all had gray/white hair, so I suspect they have been with her awhile. She played guitar some and had a easy manner, making obvious jokes (this guitar was tuned when I bought it) and chatting. She didn't say the predictable things the opening act did--thank you for taking precautions, we need live music...but somehow gave off a positive "vibe." I think the only song she performed that I had heard before was her second encore. I admit I dozed a little. It was late for us, since we are often in bed by 9. We did manage to get home by 11, so not too bad. 

It felt pretty safe, no one sitting in front of us, an empty seat to my left, the wall to Ray's right. Everyone had to show proof of vaccination and ID. The man ahead of us had no wallet, not sure whether they let him in. Everyone was masked most of the time. The worst was the bathroom, cramped and crowded although every one was trying to not get too close. Here's hoping. 

We got back from our biannual family reunion about 3 weeks ago, this time in Maine. Tamara's friend Daniela flew back to Mexico the next week. Tamara was very unhappy. She was particularly angry because she had thought her friend was staying longer and, in fact, had bought tickets to a concert they were supposed to see together. The weather was changing and winter was (is) coming. I wanted to do something for me, too. Old age is also coming and I will not enjoy traveling as much soon. We had been to Acadia National Park, but it seemed the closest extraordinary place we could experience. It was still a ways away, and places to stay nearby were full and/or expensive. I found a couple places that were about halfway and determined we could drive there to spend the night and go the rest of the way the next day and then back to the rental and home the next day. Tamara and Ray and my Dad were on board. 

I asked Molli if she and Michael wanted to come. She said they had been planning to take Declan to Legoland, an amusement park about an hour north of NYC (and more than four hours from here). So I found some places to stay near there. The countryside was lovely. Tamara said she didn't think she wanted to go since there was nothing to do. This, to me, was the point, but she was entitled to her opinion. Then I found the Renaissance Faire nearby and she was very happy about that. Everybody was ready to commit, so I reserved a 3 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath home in Tuxedo Park, New York. 

We will skip over the part where Declan and Michael got COVID and I thought they would not be coming, but we couldn't get our money back. In the end, they were well enough to travel and cleared of quarantine. In fact, they were somewhat protected from catching it! Tamara took a day off from work, since I did not want us to drive in the dark and arrive late at night. Ray also told H&R Block he could not work that day. We arranged for a dog sitter (adding Osa, Molli's dog, at the last minute). We borrowed my Dad's car as being more comfortable than our Prius C. We were tempted to take the electric car and find somewhere to charge it where we ate lunch, but we decided that with my Dad, that might be too stressful. 

We didn't get going quite as early as we thought--we were aiming for 10 and left by 11:30, I think it was. Ray is very deliberate in how he does things, including wanting to bathe after packing the car and right before we leave. There was no real hurry, however, just the thought that we should get there early enough to avoid Friday rush hour traffic. We stopped for lunch at a Friendly's. We had brought sandwiches, except for my Dad, who ate half of mine, which was fine. Ray wanted a fish-a-ma-jig and we all had Fribbles (milkshakes). We went in to order and use the restroom. The milkshakes were ready in a reasonable time, but the fish sandwich (and fries) took almost an hour. Friendly's was never fast food...and probably understaffed like almost everywhere these days. We stood around in the parking lot. The weather was good. 

We stopped a second time to use the bathroom at a somewhat ratty gas station in New York. The sign on the bathroom door said Only for Customers--the code is on your receipt. I looked pleadingly toward the employee and he said, "it's open." I was very pleased, but a little nagging voice did say, "white privilege," or maybe old white lady privilege. After me, Tamara and my Dad went and finally Ray. I think he got coffee too, so then we felt we should buy some (expensive) gas. Dad's car is a hybrid, too, so it only took half a tank. 

We crossed the Hudson and were amazed at how beautiful the scenery was and how different from "home," which is now eastern Massachusetts. Long lines of low rounded mountains covered with trees. Following the GPS instructions on my phone, we found the house. It was beautiful. Very open, post and beam construction, with windows opening onto a landscaped rocky hillside with trees and flowers. The kitchen had tiled counters and all the amenities and there was a great big dining table, plus a comfy living room and even a game table. 

Interestingly enough, there was a car in the drive and I thought the owner must be around, but he wasn't. The instructions for getting in? The key is under the mat. He lives at the house, unlike some Air B&B's we have used, so his food was in the refrigerator and there were several locked closets and rooms. We managed to fit our perishables in and the rest of the food stayed on the counter. We weren't staying long or planning to do a lot of cooking. 

In fact, the first thing we did, after checking out the house and unpacking, was go out to dinner. We drove to Helm, on Lake Greenwood, through winding roads. I would say it was a local dive bar, based on some of the people we saw. But we were able to eat outside and the food was good. There was even a young woman named Chloe Bee, who sang familiar songs (pop standards? Billy Joel, Elton John, Carole King) seated behind an electric keyboard. She was great and we gave her $5. (piano man?). There weren't many masks in evidence, but we were outside and not close to anyone else. My Dad ordered a great big charcuterie board and Tamara poutine. Ray had steak frites. There was plenty of food and I didn't order anything (except a Sangria). We still have some of the cheese left over. Did we have dessert? I can't remember. An unexpectedly pleasant dinner. 

When we got back to the house, M&M&D had just arrived. They unpacked and got settled and we went to bed about 9. Their trip had gone well, too. In the morning, it was Patturday. This is a routine where I drive to Molli's house early on Saturday mornings every other week to play games with him and let M&M sleep in a little. In this case, I was already at the same house. Declan and I played several games that we had brought--he was drawn to things he hadn't played before like Yacht Race. His strategy--go over all the Sailor's Lucks. Mine? Use up my wind change cards undoing the things Sailor's Luck had caused, before the first buoy. I was a good bit ahead of him and he declined to finish the game. I don't usually insist that he finish. I think we played Parcheesi as well, and maybe Mille Bornes. 

My Dad got up and wanted coffee. I told him I did not know anything about the coffee situation. He needed a pot to boil an egg. He wanted to know if there was bread for toast. Soon Ray got up and he made some coffee, which turned out pretty badly. The owner had asked that we not use his food. This becomes a somewhat philosophical question. I am pretty sure it's okay to use some salt and pepper. The bananas left in the bowl? Maybe not, but Dad helped himself. Did I bring any yogurt? I did. He ate out of the container. Fortunately, I had eaten mine, but I did not take the remainder home with me. 

Looking forward and looking back

I was tidying up this morning and put away a light jacket I had worn yesterday. It was really cool yesterday, in the 60s. I looked at the coats in my closet and thought about what it would be like in January. My brain had trouble imagining being miserably cold. We've had days that were miserably hot and so muggy, it seems impossible that I would ever be too cold. Fortunately, my house will keep me warm. I can make soups and bake to keep it warm, too. 

It's been hard this summer, stressful for lots of reasons. We've had some good outside times. I kayaked over to Collins Cove to be part of a swim-a-thon. I just watched the swimmers as they went by to make sure they were not in distressed, along with other kayakers and paddleboarders. I wondered if I would be able to swim a mile or two, and thought perhaps that was not something I would try. There were categories for with a wetsuit and without, although the water did not seem that cold to me. 

A week ago, I was packing up to leave Maine after spending 4 days there with my family. It was really great in a lot of ways and I miss them all now. The children are mostly grown up and good company. We all feel fortunate that none of us seems to disagree about most things, like politics and vaccinations. People of good will can always find things to care passionately about, however, like the foods that other members of the group eat or don't eat. And who feels like they are doing the most work without being appreciated. My style is to cook and bake and shop ahead and bring boxes of supplies. There were 16 of us, however. Other people like to run to the store, sometimes twice a day. It was close by and might be an excuse for them to get a break from the crowd. 

It was pouring when we left and people from New Mexico had their flights cancelled (Hurricane Henri). It turned out, though, that we were fortunate and did not have any major problems except getting home a little later than expected. I rode with my nephew and all the boxes of food that had to be brought back. His company is very pleasant and we spent the trip talking about ancestors, mainly. My helpful phone told us to get off the highway because it was backed up and take a detour through small towns in Maine, near Wells and Kittery, which was fun, except for the fact that it was raining so hard, and I was a little afraid I might come to a flooded area. 

August is the best month

We had a crazy hot June, a really wet July, but August (so far) seems awesome! No AC for several days. We had 60s at night and high 70s most days. now it's 79... the water in the ocean is warmer and I went kayaking and swimming today. I love being on the water. I paddled around among the moored boats, said hi to a few people, read the names, admired some of them...

I am still working 2 part-time jobs. The "good" one is 2 days a week--the only negative is being on the road about an hour and a half (45 minutes each way). Some days I stop at the grocery store on my way home and break it up. Sometimes I go on route 1A through the small towns of Ipswich and Rowley, past the downtowns and the town commons, over the river, past the salt marsh, by the old houses and the farm stands. Pretty great, although maybe less so in the winter... 

I have a nice new Nissan Leaf, an electric car with fancy features, so I can put on the cruise control and feel pretty safe, and not use any gas. 

The "bad" job is temporary. I've been there four months and they are interviewing for a replacement, but it's not as great. The good thing is it's about a 5 minute drive over the bridge from my house. I've even walked it once. It's not social work, but it is a non-profit, a great organization and I do bookkeeping for them. It is sometimes stressful. I spent more than 8 hours Monday trying to reconcile one checking account, but I finally did it! I pay bills, print checks, mail them, enter stuff in QuickBooks. Most of the people are pretty nice, but my boss and her boss are a little stressful (to me and others).  She has a lot going on at home and is a stickler (as financial officers should be). I will be a little sad to say goodbye to the income and the organization, but working two 6-hour days at something I enjoy sounds like a great retirement to me. I just wish it would happen while there's still some nice summer!

Marge Piercy - To be of use (a favorite poem of mine)

The people I love the best

jump into work head first

without dallying in the shallows

and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.

They seem to become natives of that element,

the black sleek heads of seals

bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,

who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,

who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,

who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge

in the task, who go into the fields to harvest

and work in a row and pass the bags along,

who are not parlor generals and field deserters

but move in a common rhythm

when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.

Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.

But the thing worth doing well done

has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.

Greek amphoras for wine or oil,

Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums

but you know they were made to be used.

The pitcher cries for water to carry

and a person for work that is real.

Holiday

The last time I had a day off, I took a trip I had delayed from the year before. It was fun, but a little stressful. Days off before that, working 5 days a week was new and I didn't really want time off. But today, I am happy to have extra unscheduled time. That doesn't mean I won't fill it up with activities, but I am enjoying the illusion of rest and choice. It doesn't hurt that it's cool, but not too cool and sunny but not hot. A gentle breeze and blue skies. Not a beach day, really, but a day to be outside and comfortable. And I appreciate that some people don't have the day off and have to work--thanks, hospital staff, etc. I also know that it's tough when you want to work but don't have a job--and other people are celebrating not working! 

Living

 I want to live the Urban Life--picking up pastries, walking to the post office, taking the train to downtown...but I feel claustrophobic being so close to my neighbors. I don't like hearing them and seeing them so much and I want to have a garden and some green space around my home.