Author: Rene

One of the perks of sea level travel is that your food arrives hot to the table and remains hot for an extended period of time. You are not subjected to cold food within a minute of receiving it as you can be in the mile high city. And your coffee is hot without having to nuke it again! You can leave that mug and return a minute later to a still-hot serving. Amazing.

That’s just one of the advantages of visiting a lower altitude city. And if you are lucky to have some humidity with your visit, your skin feels so much better and your nose doesn’t run non-stop desperately trying to hydrate in the desert air.

Oh – along with the seasons I can also appreciate the various climate designations. I shall be returning soon to the mounds of pine needles to be raked and leaves to be mowed under. That’s just fine. Some of these things remind me to look ahead and prepare for life’s changes.

Fair thee well for I must leave thee, do not let my parting grieve thee,
but remember that the best of friends must part, must part.

Adieu, adieu, kind friends adieu, adieu, adieu,
I can no longer stay with you, stay with you
I’ll hang my hat on a weeping willow tree, 
And may the world go well with thee, well with thee!

Heading out to the tune of “There is a Tavern in the Town.” I’m assuming there will be one? Soon to be reporting from the heart of history. I expect to be blown away – much the same as what it sounds like will be happening here today.

Toodles.

Thus it begins. The process of winterizing the porch and deck commenced yesterday.

Every year I drag furniture and cushions in and out, storing them in the garage for another summer. It’s a slow process because I only do a couple of things at a time, hanging on to the last vestiges of outdoor comfort. Additionally, our weather is supposed to be gorgeous for the next week, raising hopes of sitting outside in the rockers and enjoying an early sunset.

Oh, it’s on the way though. One tree totally devoid of leaves greets me each day while the pear trees cling to their cloaks. And I, I sit with my cup of coffee wearing a thick sweater on these crisp mornings, relishing in the changing of the guard.

Yes, a miracle has occurred and I’m riding the “Hope Mobile.” Furniture I had saved, thinking my children might want it because I so loved it, has actually found a home with my child! She is using it and it’s so pretty in my granddaughter’s bedroom.

Of course, there are other things which defy imagination stored here. I have tons of silver settings and assorted serving pieces, 20 some gold-leafed demitasse cups and saucers, three china sets, and glassware currently beyond measure – to bestow upon aforementioned children. Will they even want to touch those? Somewhat to my credit, I employ them all at various times of the year, with the exception of that silver business. If I have to polish too much, it’s most likely to be unused yet again.

The message of hope rings loud! Of course, everything I have is theirs. Just say the word, and that adorable tea towel could be yours, children. I’d even iron it.

There is a recording of the “Hallelujah Chorus” in which the organist strikes the worst chords imaginable at the end. It is hysterical because the choir sounds so beautiful and then, wham!

Some days are like that, I think. Beautiful – and then that ear-splitting error. However, the organist does resolve the chord and all is once again in harmony. And that it also how some days are. They do end with harmonious resolution.

Yes, getting all philosophical as I just finished a cup of coffee after having walked outside on this stunningly gorgeous morning, with the sky clear and starlit, planets visible. I think “The Chorus” came to mind as I viewed the quiet and beauty of the world. Thus, the rabbit hole of thought!

How those choristers managed not to laugh is beyond me. See if you can listen to this clip and paste business. If not – it’s worth investigating for a good laugh.

Happy Tuesday!

Isn’t this pretty and fun? I have a mantel, not white so I’d have to paint it. I have boxes for a base, and I can certainly acquire the candy, a seemingly easy task at this time of year. (Note the candy corn in the jar on the counter.)

My guess is that this lovely thought will remain pinned to a board in my Pinterest app, along with the recipes I’ll never make, the kitchen I’ll never have, and the funky clothing I’ll never own or sew.

Dreaming on an absolutely beautiful day…

The first thing that caught my eye was the photo in the Wednesday section regarding food and recipes. “That’s corn smut!” My reaction, which was correct. I just didn’t know the gourmet term, “huitlacoche.”

Anyone who ever had the advantage of earning the best wages around detassling corn in the summer (true fact) will understand the reluctance to even want to touch this fungus. I read the article with interest, and realizing I already consume a fair amount of fungus in mushrooms, penicillin, some cheeses, decided I probably would try this, perhaps only once, just to say I did it. Supposedly it has a mild flavor.

As long as I could restrain myself from thinking about walking a mile pulling tassels off of smut-stricken ears of corn, I might be able to stomach it. And of course, keep those “smutty” stories to myself.

Spray pantyhose and pruning shears. You are blessed if you have a friend who asks for those two items in between bidding bouts. The fact that you readily possess both might say something equally absurd about you though.

Ah, friendships. They bless and sustain, endure through our pain, help us to grow, through times high and low, are the best guests, and make happy requests.

Always a fun day playing bridge!

Where I was raised we also learned how to polka and waltz alongside the square dance attempts. The polka was definitely the easiest and best whirling a person could do.

Oompah bands were so fun and the most prominent feature of a wedding reception dance. And the dances were always advertised in the local papers or on posters! Everyone was invited – not just wedding guests. It was the way to meet people, that’s for sure. And everyone can basically do a polka – one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three… ad nauseum. The only danger was possibly being spinned around and swayed too swiftly, thus running into another couple. Of course, at my cousins’ weddings the other danger would be all of the other cousins, littles alike dancing round and round. It truly gave meaning to the word “underfoot.”

Today we’ll just watch the leaves do a dance. My personal anemometer, the neighbor’s flag, is definitely indicating a day of whirling.

That was the title of the square dance I still recall the words to, which we learned somewhere back in the years of grade school. I loved that one.

First of all, I think young people should learn to dance. Square dancing teaches you to listen and follow directions, and also to toss out any other thoughts you might have. You can’t be solving a murder mystery or math problem when you’re attempting to promenade or do-si-do. Additionally, it’s good for some laughter as you inevitably screw it up.

In other words, my spouse and I attempted this feat last night at an introductory event. We really did quite well with the initial commands, only failing miserably towards the end when our brains were unaccustomed to deep thought that late in the evening. Had the class been early morning, we’d be much sharper, I’m certain!

It’s got me thinking about those tap dance classes I did years ago and loved. Perhaps my next venture will be to resurrect the tap shoes, dust them off, and give a quick step-ball-change to my day?