Archive for 2012

EEEK! The Holiday parties!!

Wednesday, December 26th, 2012

Eeek….It’s Those Holiday Parties!

Reba is close to 80 years old. She hosts a magnificent sit down Christmas dinner.

The Menu:

Raw salad with raw Brussels sprouts, raw kale and greens.  Chicken marsala with mushrooms and rice. Pumpkin bread. A frozen pumpkin desert in a vanilla ice cream shell. Home baked Christmas cookies.

“Are these mushrooms from your property” I ask.

I’m thinking of my liver and a possible transplant from wild mushrooms.  I have read too many bad-ending mushroom gathering stories.

I am also thinking that my stomach rarely handles all raw and ice cold foods. My acupuncturist says I have a ‘cold stomach.’

But, this is Christmas. I eat it all.

I am sick all night and the next day from exploding gas and giant pains in my gut.

But, that is tomorrow. The dinner right now is fun. The conversation is riveting.

Reba tells us about her father’s death. (more…)

And How Is YOUR Christmas Going?

Wednesday, December 19th, 2012

One Day In The Christmas Season

 Under great stress and duress, I sent the following email to my daughter and she thinks it’s hysterical…so I say, “I’m too whipped to write a long blog…this will have to be it.”
Buddy Note To Summer:
“My brother Jim calls very early and wants to talk about his troubles, I forget a 7AM appt with a new client, the housekeeper is here and I can’t turn on the heater as she will get too hot, so I am freezing. Karl the Cat got out of the house and disappeared and I am running through the plowed fields in my bedroom slippers screaming his name. Jim shows up, has quit his job, wants all my attention, what can he do with his life, he’s going crazy.
…I am up at Starbucks now where I can’t be found.”

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The Road Less Traveled Yields Soft Surprise

Wednesday, December 12th, 2012

 

The Same Road, The Same Spot Where It Happened

Almost no one lives out here but us.

Later in our lives when we are far advanced in years, the area will become known as The Grasslands. Our town will fight about saving it and all the raptors, eagles and little burrowing, running creatures that live here…they will argue about saving The Grasslands, or not.

The Grasslands are rolling fields of low grass, peppered with massive boulders and oak trees.

Today, I am 11 or 12 years old. I am riding my clunky bike in the middle of the quiet road that runs below our tiny house on 14 acres. It’s paved and spirals languidly into the far distance.

My old blue bike is heavy and huge and I have to stand up to pedal and push to make the bike move slowly forward.

My brother Art, who is maybe 3 or 4, is on foot, meandering along beside me.

I’m sweating. My hair and my face are damp.

We’re heading far down the quiet road to a stream tucked behind boulders and trees, miles away.

We have a small lunch with us. 2 Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I’m grappling with a fishing pole when suddenly my bike hits a small rock in the road and I fly off the seat, hit the middle of the road hard, and roll. (more…)


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