I thought it felt cold when I started the car yesterday. Usually I check the weather before I go out, but Kiel is sleeping in the living room, and I didn't want to disturb him. I had actually thought about walking to work, trying to get back in the swing of a healthy lifestyle, but as soon as I poked my nose out the door, I abandoned that idea.
Baby, my wonderful little Malibu, complained when I turned the key, but she started after the first little whine. I had the dubious reward of opening the Library after our season of vacation. I parked as close to the back door as possible and took out my ID card for the door swipe before I shut off the engine. Even with my scarf wound around my face, I thought my ears would fall off before I got to the loading dock.
It tricky figuring out how to breath properly when the air is so cold. If you inhale through your nose, the little hairs in there all shout in protest, then stick to the lining of your nasal passage and refuse to do their job. One must inhale through the mouth carefully covered by a wool scarf so as to warm the oxygen to some tolerable level, then exhale through the nose to unstick the dustcatchers. Its an art form.
It wasn't until I got to choir practice that someone told me it had been minus 3 degrees this morning. There should be a law against that kind of cold! Its coming back to me more and more about the downside of living in the northeast. Ah, well. Our library's geothermal heating system was working well and we were snug and comfortable all day. Besides, I can always turn on one of the two gas fireplaces just to reassure myself that there are many ways to make the cold tolerable. Not to worry. There should be a January thaw coming sometime this month. Hang in there!
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Aunt Esther
The person for whom I am named. My Mother's brother's wife. A hard working woman who bore one set of twins, managed an elegant ranch style home, ran the office for her husband's business, and still managed to entertain her niece from time to time.
I was afraid of Aunt Esther when I was growing up. She didn't mince words. If she thought you needed to be told something, she told you, without the window dressing of concern for your feelings.
Once when I was staying at Gram Appleby's, I got to spend the afternoon at Aunt Esther's, muddling around with my cousins, Art and Charley. Gram called at noon to make sure I got lunch. Aunt Esther often worked straight through lunch. I ended up going to the Altamont Fair with them that night, and Esther sewed up a pair of dress slacks so I would have something decent to wear.
I didn't often get a chance to go to a fair. What fun we had looking at the chickens, the sheep, the horses, the cows. We wandered through the produce tent gawking at all the amazing vegetables, fruits, preserves, pickles, and pies. We saw the displays hawking tractors and farm implements. She even bought me a cone of cotton candy! It was such a marvelous evening. I hadn't thought my aunt interested in hauling me around at a fair, much less seeing to it that I didn't step in anything objectionable, if you know what I mean.
In later years, I came to know her as my supervisor when I helped out one summer in their office. She was particular and careful with details, not given to either stinginess nor excessive generosity. Her back yard was a fabulous sanctuary of flowering grace and wildlife encouraged by her provision of appropriate food sources. She even shared her knitting skills with me, showing me how to knit my first pair of mittens.
Today, after years of suffering with Alzheimer's disease, Aunt Esther passed away. Her husband struggled to provide the care she needed despite her lack of cooperation. She had withered away and become less and less able to function, confined to bed, uninterested in eating. Grief tempered with relief. Yet she leaves a hole in the fabric of our family. She is the first of the parent sets to lose her battle with age, to travel beyond the Jordan, to meet her maker. There is no replacing Esther's stalwart strength and solid dependability.
I will miss her bold remarks, her voiced opinions, her assurance that she knew the way to do something or another. I will miss her enjoyment of nature, her encouragement of intersection between wilderness and domesticity. I will miss her tiny careful stitching of knitted things, her unquestioning support of her husband's life endeavors, her crooked smile, the timbre of her voice. And I will carry with me always the impact she had on my life, the changes in perception I learned from her, the influences gleaned from her style, her gifts, her person. I thank her for being her, and I pray she has found the peace that passes all understanding.
I was afraid of Aunt Esther when I was growing up. She didn't mince words. If she thought you needed to be told something, she told you, without the window dressing of concern for your feelings.
Once when I was staying at Gram Appleby's, I got to spend the afternoon at Aunt Esther's, muddling around with my cousins, Art and Charley. Gram called at noon to make sure I got lunch. Aunt Esther often worked straight through lunch. I ended up going to the Altamont Fair with them that night, and Esther sewed up a pair of dress slacks so I would have something decent to wear.
I didn't often get a chance to go to a fair. What fun we had looking at the chickens, the sheep, the horses, the cows. We wandered through the produce tent gawking at all the amazing vegetables, fruits, preserves, pickles, and pies. We saw the displays hawking tractors and farm implements. She even bought me a cone of cotton candy! It was such a marvelous evening. I hadn't thought my aunt interested in hauling me around at a fair, much less seeing to it that I didn't step in anything objectionable, if you know what I mean.
In later years, I came to know her as my supervisor when I helped out one summer in their office. She was particular and careful with details, not given to either stinginess nor excessive generosity. Her back yard was a fabulous sanctuary of flowering grace and wildlife encouraged by her provision of appropriate food sources. She even shared her knitting skills with me, showing me how to knit my first pair of mittens.
Today, after years of suffering with Alzheimer's disease, Aunt Esther passed away. Her husband struggled to provide the care she needed despite her lack of cooperation. She had withered away and become less and less able to function, confined to bed, uninterested in eating. Grief tempered with relief. Yet she leaves a hole in the fabric of our family. She is the first of the parent sets to lose her battle with age, to travel beyond the Jordan, to meet her maker. There is no replacing Esther's stalwart strength and solid dependability.
I will miss her bold remarks, her voiced opinions, her assurance that she knew the way to do something or another. I will miss her enjoyment of nature, her encouragement of intersection between wilderness and domesticity. I will miss her tiny careful stitching of knitted things, her unquestioning support of her husband's life endeavors, her crooked smile, the timbre of her voice. And I will carry with me always the impact she had on my life, the changes in perception I learned from her, the influences gleaned from her style, her gifts, her person. I thank her for being her, and I pray she has found the peace that passes all understanding.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Not with a Bang, but a Snooze
All my good intentions for starting the new year out on a good foot disappeared somewhere into the energy crisis. Days of travel, grand daughters, sons, siblings, gifts, driving, doing, walking, shopping had taken their toll. My careful plans of exercising and eating well were abandoned.
The best I could manage was a short walk to the nearby video store to return last night's movie. At least that small concession. No, started the brand shiny new year by sleeping in. I awoke at the usual time, but rolled over and went back to sleep. Yikes! I didn't even bother to dress until after noon. We watched an all day Monk marathon and nibbled at junk food and just lolled around.
Oooo - it felt so good! I could feel the tiredness stop creeping over me in the way that waves wash over you long after the motor boat has passed, then slowly subside until stasis is reached. I began unpacking, examine anew the gifts I had received. What a marvelous Christmas it has been! Not so much for the gifts (all of which I appreciate and like) but for the thoughts of the givers of the gifts. What a blessing it is to see everyone - my parents, my sister, my brothers, my sons, my daughter-in-law, my grand daughters.
What does it matter that my house is a total mess, piles of stuff everywhere? What does it matter that I have not accomplished a disciplined and productive start to a new year? What does it matter that I return to work tomorrow and all my clothes need to be washed? OK, that needs to be addressed.
Perhaps it is the necessary theme for this new year. Start not with a big push, but with a sense of gratitude and thankfulness, a resting and a reviving. Yes, that will do. That will do just fine.
The best I could manage was a short walk to the nearby video store to return last night's movie. At least that small concession. No, started the brand shiny new year by sleeping in. I awoke at the usual time, but rolled over and went back to sleep. Yikes! I didn't even bother to dress until after noon. We watched an all day Monk marathon and nibbled at junk food and just lolled around.
Oooo - it felt so good! I could feel the tiredness stop creeping over me in the way that waves wash over you long after the motor boat has passed, then slowly subside until stasis is reached. I began unpacking, examine anew the gifts I had received. What a marvelous Christmas it has been! Not so much for the gifts (all of which I appreciate and like) but for the thoughts of the givers of the gifts. What a blessing it is to see everyone - my parents, my sister, my brothers, my sons, my daughter-in-law, my grand daughters.
What does it matter that my house is a total mess, piles of stuff everywhere? What does it matter that I have not accomplished a disciplined and productive start to a new year? What does it matter that I return to work tomorrow and all my clothes need to be washed? OK, that needs to be addressed.
Perhaps it is the necessary theme for this new year. Start not with a big push, but with a sense of gratitude and thankfulness, a resting and a reviving. Yes, that will do. That will do just fine.
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