Beach Notes

Grateful for a short getaway with Dan, which he planned. Timeless messages in a bottle I was able to discern through the sometimes cloudy, sometimes clear, weathered lens of my life view:

• Hurricanes cut a fearless, take-no-prisoners path. Erin closed the beaches yesterday (no sandy part to sit on, and the tides were menacing) and flooded the main roads pretty bad. Dan's cap was about to blow off. And today at Island Beach State Park, we were told we could only wade up to our ankles. But the weather was beautiful.
• Lifeguards are golden. Saviors in red trunks or one-pieces ran along the surf, toting weights. Then two went in and rode the giant swells, one on a yellow board that said RESCUE and one in a little boat. The waves were so big, it looked like the vessels would capsize. But they did not, with skillful guards in charge.
• Beach sleep is the best sleep. I fell into a deep one in a chair down by the water but then Erin waves washed up over my bag, my books etc. Dan appeared at that instant and I woke up with a jolt. 
• New Jersey's barrier island is (kind of) like Cape Cod. Some of the same flora, from beach roses to marsh grass. Dunes, though not as towering. But little flies bit big here in the swaying grass. The old visitor center has Cape-like treasures, including finds from shipwrecks, such as heavy canvas diver's shoes and haunting deadeyes, stuffed gulls and a spry fox. I will return.
• Surfside menus are predictable and unhealthy. You'll find sushi (good), subs, seafood, some nice iced coffee if you search, ice cream, sweet cocktails with colorful sunset names, chicken fingers, burgers, deep-fried appetizers. I had a fresh Garden State house salad with crisp cucumbers and peppers by the sea. But fries abound. I didn't finish the salad but did swipe some of Dan's French fries.
• Ocean air smells good.
• Saltwater taffy is still a seaside thing.
• Sunset over the bay is a painting. Pinks, purples, oranges. You feel fortunate to see it.
• Some beach house signs have great messages. IF YOU'RE LUCKY ENOUGH TO BE AT THE BEACH, YOU'RE LUCKY ENOUGH, one said. Another had a silhouette of a mermaid and said MERMAID X-ING, which made me think of our daughters.

Good night.

Bring It on, Storm Jonas

We have everything we need, I think, plus a snow shovel, too. :). I just realized how naive that sounds, as Mother Nature and Father Storm can be quite ruthless. [Nan, hope you are safe in snowy D.C.]

Good night.

TCOY

1. Boot camp in Gary's studio.
2. Have been eating healthfully.

Gone Fishing: Rough Waters

I type "rough waters" in my blog posts or texts to friends as code for things feeling rocky, scary, dangerous. Like: An undertow, a fear of drowning, a losing sight of the shore. I have felt like I've been in rough waters a lot lately, for a couple of reasons.

But today we literally were in rough waters. Sis had chartered a powerboat and a fisherman [young Bobby Tambascio] to take us out from 1 to 5 as part of her birthday present to her husband, Don. Despite storm warnings, the sun was shining and the sky blue when we left the Greenwich Water Club. Captain Bobby, who learned to fish from his grandfather, Sal, zipped right out to Eatons Neck*, a fish-rich spot he likes off Long Island, near Northport. He said if we drove there, it would have taken 2 hours on the road. But on the boat, we arrived in about 20 minutes. 

He spotted blues jumping over the water. They eluded us, but he baited the hooks with hunks of clam and also lowered a chum bucket into the waves to increase our odds. Before long, he, Sis, Don and Punch were reeling in fish--porgies, aka scup. One by one, he unhooked them and slipped them into a large cooler of ice. He had five rods, but I chose to watch.

After a couple of hours, he got a call on his cell. I heard the voice, which may have been his brother's. 

Is it pouring out there?

No, said Bobby. 

Turns out it was pouring in Greenwich from maybe 3 p.m. till almost 5. And when he pulled up our anchor and sped back to the dock, we were caught in rough, rough waters. As in: Pelted with sharp darts of rain every way you turned. It was an onslaught, and we were bouncing on the water. My blowout from yesterday turned into what looked like a sopping wet perm. My eyes stung from sunscreen that washed into them. My black tank top and skirt were wet. I hunched down and held Sis's windbreaker over my head but it flapped wildly and I got drenched anyway. Punchy snuck into the tiny head [bathroom] for shelter but then accidentally locked herself in for a few seconds and was calling my name. 

Don't go in there, Captain Bobby called above the slosh of water. We'll be bouncing and I don't want you to bump your head.

So this is rough waters, I thought. This is what it feels like. I have to hold on tight or I won't be able to help the ones I love.

And all you can do, really, is take cover and ask if those around you are okay and tell them to grab onto your arm if they want. You help your brother-in-law with his hood and you grip the edge of the big cooler to stay aboard but you also keep an eye on the others, including the one manning the boat, the one driving you through the rough, whipping waters and sheets of rain from Mother Nature and Father Storm

You trust the one manning the boat. You have no other choice, as long as the person is smart, skilled and capable. That is a lesson for life

At 4:59, the rain had let up and the dock was in sight--where boats with names like Summer, Smooth and Splashdown were safe in their slips. I was so grateful. I borrowed Sis's towel and dried my face and arms. 

By 7:45 p.m., we were safe and dry and our fresh-caught dinner was on the table. Capt. Bobby had fileted the fish and Sis baked it with yummy seasonings and served it with salad and rice. Even Punchy ate a plateful.

We are all pretty tired now. Good night.

*Kim and Nan, have you been there? I know you both have been boating around Long Island....

Punch + Sis when boat was anchored at Eatons Neck off Long Island.

Captain Bobby, who has been fishing and fileting since age 5, with a big porgy today.

Wolf at My Door

Recovering from big scare. Am up late on a project. Took Sug out to tinkle one last time before bed at 1:30 a.m. This HUGE ANIMAL ran right up to us before we got off the doorstep.

I thought it was a WOLF. It was big and gray with skinny legs. I didn't see a collar, which made it even more potentially wolf like. It was sniffing Sugar like a cocktail snack.

I was so scared because I thought this MAYBE WOLF would attack us both. I scooped SUG up. Truth be told, the GIANT DOG I GUESS didn't growl, bare his teeth, raise his fur or anything aggressive. But he was trying to get into our house; it's cold and rainy out.

I retreated before Sug tinkled, took her inside. Then I heard the dog at our glass door again. I rang the bell to get help from H. but woke up Punchy, who was scared.

We are all fine now. But this brings back memories of the dark, rainy, drippy night like this one--it was a Sunday--when Figgy was little and we were returning from dinner at the Mernins'. When we got out of the car, I noticed a CREEPY white possum hanging upside down from one of the branches that hung over the driveway. Ugh.

I hope to make way tomorrow on another chapter or two of Anthony's life story! He is the former Franciscan monk who married and became a daring businessman who traveled the world. I have battled some writer's block.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Boot camp in the park.
2. Popcorn for a snack.
3. Steamed asparagus.
4. I am scared/anxious/upset about something that feels/appears sad and painful. But I didn't eat sugar over it. That's a step in the right direction. I normally would try to self-soothe with chocolate or sweets.

The Joy of Cold Showering

I lost count of how many tall glasses of ice water I drank today, of how many times I had to lie down near the A.C. I am hot all year--so if you just put your hand on my arm in a near-100-degree heat wave like we had today, as H. did tonight, you could feel my body burning like a furnace. A cold shower at midnight was just what the doctor ordered. Good night to you.

TCOY

1. Boot camp in the park.
2. Actually sewed missing buttons on H.'s seersucker shorts and my Nantucket Reds skirt. I remember making time for sewing and mending years back. Want to get back to that. Taking care of little things. It got to the point where we have been having the tailor at the dry cleaner sew on buttons.
3. Luxurious cold shower.

Heat Wave

And yet another post about heat....and survival by jumping from Point A [ice water] to Point B [more ice water] to Point C [car air conditioning] to Point D [home A.C.] to Point E [iced coffee]. I don't even know exactly how hot it is, but the humidity is like a stifling wool cloak.

Yet it felt good to deadhead my daisies, feed the sunflowers and dahlias, repot the pink geranium. And Figgy is leaving for a White Mountain Spike Teen Trail Crew in New Hampshire on the Appalachian Trail, one week starting Sunday. H. went on Priceline and found a B&B that can take me and him and Sug, so when we drive Figgy up on Sunday, we can stay the night. That at least should be a breath of fresh air.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Nap in A.C.
2. Iced coffee.
3. Cool bath with lavender bubbles.

I Hate the Heat

Omigosh, this heat and humidity is like a hot, heavy blanket. Must go to sleep, window A.C. unit blasting. Tonight, H.'s baby sister, Eileen, and her son Taylor, 18, are with us from Maine :)

Good night.

TCOY

1. Nourishing reading.
2. Boot camp in the park.
3. Salon shampoo & blowout.
4. Bought Thai mango slaw at Whole Foods and did not buy a Carmelita Bar! 
5. Saw our Mernins.
   

Worn Down

By now I sound like a stuck CD, that just whirs and whirs and doesn't play.

Today is Day 9 of no power. Tomorrow I have to take up the offer of one of my kind friends and go do some laundry. Maybe @ Rachael's, or Rebecca's, or Diana's....tomorrow the schools open, too, after seven consecutive days missed so far.

Right now I am @ Ron and Beverly's, parents of Figgy's friend Olivia.

I am not taking care of myself and I am tired. I had French fries today with my brisket sandwich. This is getting old.

It did feel good to vote, even though we had to go to another polling place, as ours was not yet open due to power outage.

I don't have much else to say. But I do miss Dad.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Walked Sug around block once.
2. Private Benjamin, alone and with family.

The Indignity of Cold Deodorant

Here's what happens when you've lost your power and it's now day 8.

Your Secret gel deodorant is icy cold when you glide it on. Your dog doesn't want to let you out of her sight, not even when you're just going upstairs to take a bath. [And BTW, taking a bath is your big goal and big accomplishment. That and making the bed and sweeping out the hearth, like some old Cinderella. Except there is no blue satin dress, no pair of glass slippers on the other end of the chore.]

Your neighbor's tiny dark frog, Rock Star, is in your care while his young owner and her little brother and parents have packed up for Ohio and he's worrying you b/c he isn't moving much in his tank of water. Later, @ the supermarket, you cave and buy a little eggnog ice cream. You are weary. You sleep on the couch by the fire in the afternoon until the teenager tells you to move b/c you are snoring so much, disturbing her as she reads in the fat chair by the hearth. But you love that deep sleep, b/c your girl is there, right in front of you, under your roof, and the pup is on your legs and your husband built the fire.

But something else happens, too. You realize that fire is an element as beautiful as the sea. That it dances, and mesmerizes, like waves in the ocean. That you can stare into its flickering flames and consider your hopes and dreams, calm down, dream up.

Time for me to move along out of this Starbucks. Have only been here just over an hour. The other side of our street has power; ours is imminent. But now it's time for the nearly nightly ritual of getting Figgy from a friends', having her get PJs and then getting her back to a friend's, where she can sleep in warmth. Then she comes home in the day to eat and take a bath and change and then the cycle begins again.

One day @ a time. Grateful one day @ a time.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Boot camp in the park.
2. Walked Sug around block once.
3. Planning to get back to myfitnesspal tomorrow or next day and really make a difference, once power is back.
4. Had some vegs with dinner [bento box].

Storybook Fakes, or a Mouse in the House

See, that mouse is wearing clothing.

Hello from hoboland. I know we’re not really hobos—other people have lost their homes and possessions, even their family members, and I feel sorry for them. But I feel like a hobo. And a hobo with a beauty problem--the two vertical creases on my forehead have gotten deeper this week, from worries and stress.

Just left H. by the cozy fire so I could come and plug in for power and get internet. But reliable Starbucks has no internet. The barista said it crashed b/c so many people were using it. Woosh, it just came back!

In other indignities, I was just cleaning the kitchen counter by candlelight and my hand came upon a small, spongy, dark thing and yes, it was a mouse. I quickly scooped it into the garbage bag and took the bag out. Pretty gross. I keep threatening to get stronger mouse traps when H. takes a business trip. He and Fig like those tiny gray Havahart .traps that keep the mice alive; then they go release them over by Mills Reservation. Then the mice run back into our basement and sneak up to our kitchen every night to steel Sug's kibbles if we leave them out. Guess I will keep my mouse murder via garbage bag to myself @ home.

I’ve been thinking about storybook images during this week of simpler living:

• As a kid, when I drew a house, it always had a chimney and the chimney always had a fat puff of smoke. Ha. I never realized the work that goes into gathering the wood and setting the fire to make the smoke puff out of the chimeny. I tried to stoke a fire in our fireplace for warmth, and keep it going. I added everything but the kitchen sink--lit matches, lit candles, cereal boxes, newspaper sections. It's been over 25 years since my first trip to Maine with H., when we went camping in Acadia and he built the first of many fires he has made for me and Figgy. It took till now for me to really appreciate this skill. I told him he is my hero for that.
• Santa. I also wondered today how that big fat guy could possibly fit down a sooty, filthy chimney and emerge with his red plush suit so cheery, his beard so snowy white. Because when I had to check that the flue was open today, I got my pink Lilly Pulitzer sweater dirty. I was too cold to take it off and was determined to wear something cheery today.
• The mouse. They are so cute in storybooks--they live in matchboxes and wear hats and clothes. Or they do something with spools of thread. Well, they ain't cute to me. They are a major pain in my tush. But they are much tinier than you think they'll be. "They have families, and feelings," H. is fond of saying. "They're just like us."

Well, I should get going. I want to actually wash my face and brush my teeth and get a good night's rest before boot camp. We might have power back soon. Good night.

TCOY

1. Breakfast with my friend Anne.
2. Nap by fire--after H. got back from Starbucks and built a good one.
3. Nice dinner by candlelight with our friends and Fig and 3 of her friends. H. made pasta, meatballs and sauce on stovetop. I guess Stuart Little came sleuthing later, looking for morsels. And I caught him in his tracks.

The Hands of Time

All I do all day is sigh. We lost our power Monday night @ 8:35 P.M. and now it's Friday @ 9:10 P.M. It should be a sigh of relief, b/c we are all ok, even Sug, our home is standing, we have hot water and candles. But no, these are jittery sighs--Did I leave a candle burning downstairs? Did I leave the lantern on the front stoop so H. and Fig can find their way in? Did wild animals eat the fine chocolate pudding I left cooling outside? Will we run out of matches?

Two more big sighs now b/c I'm wasting gas sitting in this car with Sug outside Starbucks and also b/c I wrote and edited this post and then somehow erased the whole thing.

8:15 A.M. Text from Patsy telling us all where boot camp is, since Brookdale Park is closed. We’re meeting in the field near the pool @ Mountainside.

8:40 A.M. Battery-powered alarm clock goes off. Pull myself out of bed but feel stressed already, not rested. Everything seems so hard. Can’t find sports bra. Deep sigh. Too overwhelmed to look too hard, so go in regular bra. No support.

8:50 A.M. Put on Sug’s winter coat, take her out and then put her in Figgy’s bed, since Fig is still sound asleep. Leave Sug’s coat on. Fix covers over both of them. It’s cold in here.

9:10 A.M. Toast a slice of rye bread from the loaf our friend Anne left on our table the other day. Put it on a cooking fork over the gas flame. Eat it with peanut butter. Go to front stoop to get skim milk. Pour a nice cold cupful. Return milk to stoop.

9:20 A.M. Off to boot camp, thankful I have gas in the car to get there. H. doesn’t go. Goes to the church where Anne works to write instead. He has not been handling Sandy stress too well lately. I also remember him this way in Hurricane Floyd, when our basement was badly flooded.

9:30 A.M. Hour-long boot camp class. It is hard and I feel sluggish. Pats has us run up a big grassy hill across from the field five or six times. “Come on, Alice, push yourself,” she calls. I try, I try. We also do stations--lifting weights, doing crunches, shuffles, more. I drag myself. My friends Heidi and Michael don’t show up. I miss them.

10:45 A.M. Recklessly use gas to drive to Walnut Street, near the other end of Montclair, to get a mocha @ Redeye. But our tank is still almost full. Pass long, long line of cars waiting for gas and of people huddled in blankets, holding red gas containers for their generators. Call Anne and Elly to see if they want to go or if I can get them coffees.  No answer. Park in front of Gina’s Bakery. Go in and buy a spinach-topped foccacia pizza to bring home. See sugar-dusted brioche donut filled with Bavarian cream. Get it, sit down to eat it. Hope Patsy doesn't walk in. I am human. Two customers enter. They both ask how I am. I have never seen these women before. They both have power on that end of town. I think I must look worn out.

11 A.M. Get my medium mocha; $4.50 plus 50 cents in the tip jar. Notice Redeye has WiFi. Wish I had my laptop.

11:15 A.M. Sit with mocha outside Gina’s and call my brother Will. He and Kelly still without power in NYC. Good to talk to him. He makes me smile.

11:40 A.M. Pop into antique store on corner of Forest and Walnut, since I’m here, and it’s open.  Have never been in before. Look @ old typewriter, juice glasses, books, platters, jewelry, mason jars and fur-collared lady’s coat.

11:45 A.M. Drive back home, detoured by fallen trees, yellow caution tape. Cannot believe size of some uprooted trunks. Mighty giants, felled. Sad.

11:55 A.M. Back home. Run up to attic room to check on Fig and Sug again. Still sound asleep.

Noon  Turn radio on. The people at WCBS 880 AM have become my friends.

12:04 Light candles. Even though it’s not dark in here, the dancing light and Tahitian vanilla scent are comforting.

12:49 P.M. Starting dishes at sink. Feel like colonial woman, knowing she needs to do chores in the daylight. Just lack ruffled cap. Hope to take a shower and change out of exercise clothes after this. Will report back.

4:27 P.M. Well, I still haven’t taken a shower. Better now before it gets dark. First our friend John, who lives down the block, stopped in while biking by. He, Fig and I had tea. John said our house feels warm and checked the thermostat: 58 degrees. Not bad for several days with no heat. Then I was going to get into the shower but Figgy wanted to take a bath, so I let her. Since then, I have: eaten Halloween candy, regrettably; made Sarabeth’s Triple-Chocolate Chocolate Pudding [great stovetop recipe] and put it out to chill on the front stoop; whipped some cream [we have an old-time egg beater] to put on top; done more dishes; walked Sug around the block [and talked to neighbors Mary and Beth along the way]; tried to reach Moey; and talked to Sis. Fig has now headed out on foot to find a place to power her phone. Let this be the moment I really get into the shower!!!! I just feel worn down and want to nap but will make myself shower first. Thank goodness I worked hard on a writing deadline on Friday and Monday, before the power went out.

Finally did shower at 5:05, my big accomplishment of the day. Also read a little with my tiny book light, and ate @ Cozy End with Mernin family. Better go. Almost bedtime. First want to light fire H. set in fireplace and lounge on couch. He and Figgy @ movies.

TCOY

1. Boot camp, even if I was slow as molasses.
2. Water.
3. Read something very helpful.
4. Walked Puff around block once.  
5. Saw my friends. 
6. About to hop on myfitnesspal. com to log day before laptop battery croaks.

‘

In the Kitchen with Rachael

I was here in Rachael's kitchen on Walnut Street for a lot of the morning and then again tonight--to have a nice warm breakfast of eggs, bagels and coffee, charge my cell and laptop and get on the internet. Rachael is the mom of Figgy's friend Elizabeth, and Figgy slept over here last night.

Right now I am sitting on a cool white leather stool in Rachael's lovely kitchen with white beadboard, dotted Swiss curtains and white marble countertops. White Sug is on my lap. We've been sipping wine. White, of course.

The stress of no power is wearing on me and H. Gas lines wrap around blocks. H. waited over an hour @ 11 P.M. last night to fill our tank at a rest stop on the Garden State Parkway. The kids are out of school all week and we hear it might spill into next week.

I wanted to make chocolate pudding from Sarabeth's Bakery, a favorite cookbook. You do it all on the stovetop. But I had to chase all over for the whole milk and heavy cream--not in A&P or Target. But finally found milk in Stop&Shop in Clifton and then cream @ Quick Chek. I left them out on our front stoop b/c our power is out; no fridge. It should be cold enough there. Oy.

I feel worn down and tired. I do feel like a hobo. Takes effort to wash face and brush teeth. Bought a new blanket and more candles, and a flashlight for our friends. Must move toward getting to bed. H. is out writing at Dunkin' Donuts--at least that was his plan. Figgy keeps going to friends'  homes who have power b/c God forbid she should be disconnected. [Wait, I've done that, too....]

On the bright side, a power outage brings people together. I've had a chance to sit and chat with Rachael and really get to know her.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Had some veggies with dinner. In a blackout--a storm of pizza and pasta and peanut butter--having some veggies is big.

Coffee & Sympathy

Sitting in Dunkin’ Donuts on Valley Road in Montclair. It’s 6:47 P.M. Walked here to plug in my computer and get internet. No internet. Have to walk down Valley Road to Starbucks for that but at least I can juice up my laptop here.

My friend Linda was @ one of the small maroon tables. Her daughter is Figgy’s age and they were Girl Scouts together for years. She pulled out an extension cord to share her outlet with me.

Things feel so…jittery. H. bought the New York Times today and seeing the devastation and destruction in Breezy Point, Queens and the rest of the city is upsetting. And in our town, massive trees uprooted, one smashed through our neighbors’ windshield.

I keep reaching for light switches, the ice maker, the microwave. Feels so strange. The stress of keeping batteries, candles and matches at the ready…someone told me we might not get power back until Monday [today is Wednesday], but I think it will be sooner. I just feel really stressed out.

My brother Will just phoned me here. He and Kelly and their cat are ok but in the dark in NYC. We both hope our other brother is okay. He lives on 12^th Street, and things were bad on 14^th. Sis tried to reach him….I will, too.

I can’t stay long here. Fig rode her bike to a friend’s and H. was working downtown, where there’s power. I didn’t want to leave Sug in a darkened house so I brought her Fatness over to Patsy’s. But I don’t want to wear out her welcome.

I hope you are safe. Sorry for this jittery post. And I keep wondering how my friends Kim and Farhan are, in Brooklyn…

Good night.

TCOY

1.       Boot camp in the soccer field on Upper Mountain Avenue.
2.       Walked a lot—about an hour today.
3.       Nice shampoo.

Powerless in Montclair

No power since 8:35 P.M. last night....but we were ready. We are doing ok. It's not so bad when you have a gas stove you can light with a match. This morning I made pancakes. Tonight, H. made a green salad and heated up a frozen pizza in a skillet. My neighbors Peter and Sally let me throw some ground turkey on their grill.

Kind of at loose ends, though. Sitting with rumpled hair in car outside Starbucks, which was closed all day. But getting the WiFi signal. Have Sug with me for company.

Good things about no power:

• Reading.
• Resting.
• Talking.
• Candlelight, which I always love anyway.
• Thinking about how our ancestors ever lived this way.

Kings & A&P were closed. CVS was open so I ducked in for Halloween candy and more candles. Also got a dozen eggs, which I stashed in the old insulated milkbox on our stoop. Most of the food in our fridge will spoil soon. Grateful that we are all safe and sound.

Good night. I hope wherever you are is dry and warm.

TCOY 

1. Sug and I walked Figgy to her friend's or a sleepover [lucky friend has power].
2. Leaving all Halloween candy in car until needed tomorrow. Cannot fool myself into thinking I can bring it in house and not indulge.
3. Just took time to fill in daily myfitnesspal.com diary. Glad.
   

Winds Howling, Two Big Trees Down

We have a tight neighborhood listserve, and neighbors already posted that two big trees went down. This is getting scary. About to take a shower before power goes out. Made a cup of hot cocoa to have after.

Stay safe.

TCOY

1. Made fish for dinner.

Mother Nature's Fierce Side

Hurricane Sandy is heading our way. No school tomorrow. When Figgy told me the reports of impending high-speed winds, it took me back to the night the tree fell through our roof in March 2010 and we had to move out, that night, for eight months. HERE is what I wrote when that happened.

Now we have candles, matches, flashlights, food, water.....and I am heading to bed. We've done several loads of wash, to catch up in case the power goes out....

What Hurricane Sandy brings, in the end, will be an act of God or fate or the universe or a Higher Power...or Mother Nature. I think I heard on the car radio today that 65? people already died in Haiti in Sandy's wake. How sad.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Walked my Sug around block once.
2. Reading a very helpful book.
3. Saw our friends.

Lightning Strikes More Than Once

Wired lines of light, like electric cords crackling in the sky ...Sis and I saw them over the New Jersey Turnpike North, heading home from visiting our Aunt Edith [who was married to Dad's brother Al until we lost him] and our cousins/her daughters, Lin and Judi. So grateful for our family. Good night.

TCOY

1. Ummmm.....nothing? But about to curl up and get a good night's sleep in my A.C.-chilled room.
2. Well, wait a minute. Catching up with Sis and Don for 4 hours-plus round trip drive time was a gift, and so was seeing my good aunt and cousins. Laughter is TCOY. Having capellini with flounder...and Judi's iced coffee...TCOY, too. Family=satiny pink wrap over ordinary dress.

Taking a Pass Due to Heat Wave

I am boiling hot. I will have to blog tomorrow about today. My hair feels like a greasy fur hat. I have to get up into my room and put the A.C on 66 for me and Sug. H. is away in Wisconsin, so he can't say it feels like an icebox. Good night.

Storm Watch

Wine [beer for H.] with Patsy and Andy on their porch tonight [Sally and Peter, too] while their little children slept safely inside and the rain poured. Hope Hurricane Irene spares us, not like the last storm that sent the tree through our roof in March 2010.  [Here's something I wrote about that: House Proud.]

I miss my Dad. I really do. And hearing about hospital and nursing home patients being evacuated makes me think of him even more.

Dad, I miss you. Thank you for all of the lessons in goodness and kindness and smarts and humor that you left behind. I just really miss talking to you.

Punch, I also hope your little self is safe and dry, and not scared. And Figgy, soak up that Greek island sun with good Auntie and Don! Love you.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Met Anne at about 2:15 for iced coffee and an excellent white chocolate eclair that we split at the new French pastry place in town. 
2. Nap.

Saved

Can I Write My Way Out of This?

The train in the distance is riding on the Rock-A-Bye Railroad,
which carried Jersey peaches through the state
from 1888 through about 1913.

At midday, things looked bleak. I can't go into details--not mine to share. But as I lay down on my bed, feeling helpless and defeated--no matter if my heart was in the right place, no matter if I stayed calm and kind, no matter if H. and I were doing our best--I saw a lesson outside my window. The tree over by Dean and Julie's was whipping in the wind against the blue sky, and two things occurred to me.

1. There are buds on those branches. Trees can take it. They can lose their beautiful leafy dresses, shed their flowers, drop their seeds. They have roots that keep them grounded, that dig deep down, that find security. Trees are massive creatures that require crews of men, special trucks and tools and mounds of money to be taken down. That tree by Julie's house has buds on it. I saw them. And it won't be long until they are in full leaf again. Those baby buds reminded me that no matter how empty things appear, there is always later, always tomorrow, always another chance. Things generally don't stop in the darkest part--they just take a rest. But that doesn't mean they don't emerge as or more beautiful than before. Our lilac tree and Rose of Sharon stood up gracefully to those gusts.
2. I wish I could write my way out of this. Maybe I really could write a novel, I thought. I'd like to create a world different from this one. To work on words in a story I make up in my mind. I lay crafting a gentle tale--now it sounds like a children's book. I thought about pretty pink bridges and the Rock-A-Bye Baby Railroad, a real rail from the early 1900s that ran on a single track by a New Jersey estate I toured recently for an article. The Rock-A-Bye transported fragrant summer peaches from orchards to customers. I thought of a storybook scene and started playing with words in my mind to capture it. Bridge is the only word I can remember now.

The day did turn. Figgy and I got our nails done [I had a gift card] and then went to see Justin Bieber: Never Say Never in 3-D, which we both really liked. It was Fig's second viewing--her friend Laura won a singing contest and tickets to the NYC premiere. The girls saw Justin and his mother there.

I am not 16, but I did love that boy's positive energy and his songs.

Never say never. Good night.


Photo note: The Rockabye’s train heads for Whitehouse, NJ. Photo from njskylands.com--by Tom Taber III, “The Rock-A-Bye Baby, A History of the Rockaway Valley Railroad.”