PNewL PNewS
Volume 22 No. 3 “All
the pnews that phits.” October 2014
The Styrofoam has Landed
Roger and I had the opportunity to take a road trip to Ohio and then
points northeast. We drove over 3000 miles and had an oddly wonderful time.
That should be odd and wonderful but I really liked the sound of oddly
wonderful which I recognize means something altogether different.
The stop in Cleveland to visit Evie, and John, and the Scherbel-Taylor
clan was just pretty wonderful. Nothing odd there. Evie has been looking for
kayak put-ins. We went exploring the outer edges of northeastern Ohio. The
weather was nice and the scenery was beautiful. We even saw three bald eagles
and ran into former neighbor/friends along the road. One of the days we got to
see David and Kim who happened to be in town for the memorial service of a
friend. That was icing on the cake.
My visit with John was poignant and comforting and funny. He has a brain
tumor and I suppose, if I weren't in total denial, I would say he is facing his
final rodeo. John and I met in kindergarten--and I went on my first date with
him in 8th grade, but he has no memory of that milestone--and re-met in Los
Angeles when one of the children I was in charge of told his teacher that I,
too, liked the Cleveland Browns, and within one “do you know” question, we
found we knew the same John. We were 22. We have been in touch ever since. It
has not always been easy. We are both on the prickly side, but for some reason,
we have remained in touch through quite a bit of coming and going, and that has
been comforting, I believe, to both of us. I was nervous at first to see him. I
just saw him in Carmel where he lived on the top of a mountain overlooking
everything, but still I was afraid he would not be John. But despite all he is
going through--and all his brain is going through--he was absolutely John. He
was funny and pissed off and political. He was also touching and so honest
about what is going on and how that makes him feel. I am so grateful for the
time we had. Makes me wanna go back.
Dinner with the Dean and Susi and Barb and Betsy and Ted was raucous
good fun and delicious. I thank them for having me.
On to Ithaca and cousins John and Natasha. It is always interesting to
me to see where Canada cousins live when not on an island in Georgian Bay, in
old pine cabins, wearing t-shirts and shorts. John and Natasha’s did not
surprise me. They live on the outskirts of town backed up to a lotus pond with
lotus blossoms standing high above the water’s surface. It is a beautiful
setting and a neat old house. I wish I’d had more time to poke around. What a
gorgeous drive and a beautiful area and of course, great company.
This is when the odd started. Well, not quite yet: the drive across the
rest of New York and even more in Vermont and New Hampshire was great. Trees,
views, all good.
Then the odd started. Well,
first some background: I “won” a week at a cabin in New Hampshire at a silent
auction. Gini was doing her usual summer road trip and met me there. It really
was fine, but odd. Lake house, not quite on a lake. No swimming in the lake.
Needed to put food in fridge because of mice, but fridge was pretty full
already. No place to sit outside at the house (dock down at lake, across the
lane and down the hill, was highly sit-table). No grill for cooking. No internet
or cell phone coverage which meant daily trips to the front porch of the
library—not all bad. “Welcome to Historic______” (We’ll leave the name blank to
protect the town.) was followed by a deserted “historic downtown.”
We made the best of it and that was good fun. Explored local areas, went
to Peterborough which was charming. Read and crafted. Went to a yarn store that
was inexplicably closed (returned the next day and it was great). Stopped at
several thrift shops that were all closed on the days we tried. Oh…and the
Hike. There is a nice looking park on the edge of town. We stopped there one
afternoon to take a walk. There were trails and a map. (I just read
that there were 20 miles of trails! I think we saw a lot of em.) A walk in the
park on a loop trail. No biggie, eh? Au contraire! Two and a half hours later, we burst out of the park into a clearing,
better known as the HIGHWAY. It was hot. We had not brought anything with us—no
water, no phone, no money…we were just going on a loop trail! Only two
foreign-to-this-area middle aged women and a small black dog. As we looked at
where we were, we started walking…and I said we can’t walk on the highway, Gini
said we couldn’t go back IN THERE (the park). So we went down the off ramp in hopes
of…well, you gotta have hope. Gini wanted to go into the Rite Aid. I saw no
hope there. Corporate America wouldn’t help us—I thought we should find a mom
and pop place but we weren’t really in momandpop land. Gini sucked it up and
went inside. A few minutes later she came out with a young woman who was
carrying her keys. She loaned us her car to drive to ours and come back!!! She
said it was the only thing she could think to do. Gini later reported that
there were a group of people in the store and she knew eventually one of them
would break and help, but it was the Rite Aid employee who finally did. We
thanked her profusely got our car, gave her hers back along with a wad of money
and a note of appreciation. She gave Roger a bottle of water. So many lessons
learned, but my favorite part was when Gini said, You want to go back in there?
Oh and the part where she got us a getaway car. My hero.
I am running on too long so won’t go on too much about other odd and
wonderful parts. Left Gini heading north while Roger and I headed down to
Charlotte’s house for lunch (Cleveland cousin and it was equally interesting to
see her digs. Nice place—fabulous garden. Oh my!) then on to Maine. A short
visit with Chris and Sculley to see their new-to-them summer pad which is a
neat place and in a great location. Some noodling around and driving so many
many miles on the back roads of mid-coast
Maine, followed by a mini high school reunion where we ate drank looked
up old classmates and then called them. A
hilarious end of a fun odd trip. Well, not quite the end. There was still 16
hours of driving home and the only amusing part of that was when Roger refused
to go into the motel. I knew then, it was time to go home.
PS The reference in the title may be a bit confusing. When I
left Evie’s house, I took with me a large box of Styrofoam she had saved until
someone came up with a way to recycle it near her. Wanting to help her get
stuff out of her house and having just read there was some place that had
started recycling Styrofoam in Asheville, I said, sure I will take it. I have
since lost the article about the recycler but Publix takes it and I am heading
south one day soon so I will add it to my pile and Roger might just have to
share the backseat with a lot of Styrofoam trays. Meanwhile, the Styrofoam has
landed in Weaverville.
Things I am Learning
& Miscellaneous Observations
• A friend of
my Facebook friend Babbie described her as a glutton for opportunity. I love
that. I am stealing it. Done.
• Our local Women Build at Habitat
lucked out to have a patron—The Lunch Lady, a woman named Barbara, who made
lunch once a week during the build. This past year, she died. It has been and
will be a great loss. At the Key Passing ceremony, we honored her (there will
be more opportunities to honor her as we dedicate the kitchen on Women Build
2015 in her honor…you’ll hear more about that later). While Tricia and I were
planning the ceremony on the phone, we got to the part about Barbara. I heard
this ding. I walked cautiously, thinking there might be some weirdo out there
ringing the bell hanging on the front porch. It was swinging...one part of me
says it was a hummingbird, one part wonders where Barbara was right then.
Another cool Barbara story: her husband emailed Betsy at Habitat to find out
when the Key Passing was and it turned out we had scheduled it on their wedding
anniversary. Gives me goosebumps.
• There is a young man in our
neighborhood who is messing around with a large piece of property, empty land.
It is his right to do—we have no zoning here. I remember when I first moved
here, Gini said something like, While it is nice to be surrounded by all this
undeveloped land, that means someone could do something you wouldn’t like on it
one day. Now there is a 51 acre property up on the mountain at the end of the
valley for sale. Holding my breath.
• I used to think, as I sat
waiting for the Marin Airporter or more accurately pacing at SFO, that this was
where my life actually took place and all the fun running around craziness was
fleeting fantasy. Just recently, I had that same feeling in my bathroom at
home!
•
I
have started inviting my creative friends over for what Gini calls
parallel
play at the Clubhouse (AKA The Doublewide). It’s just started but the
first
gathering was promising—six of us sitting around doing our own thing and
visiting. It was good. At some point in my California life, I was in a
class
that was for educated women who wanted to figure out what we really
wanted to
do with our lives. One of the exercises was to fantasize about what it
looked like. I envisioned this scenario where I lived in a house by
myself but
people came during the day to do whatever we did, but in close
proximity. (I
actually think we were doing some very productive good work.) In a very
small
way, this has started though, instead, different kind of good productive
work--we are making stuff. I like it. (Wanna come? Let me know!)
• It is only
occasionally in my funny little life, that I am on deadline and really need the
internet's support. Today is one of those days. I put something off to the last
minute (now) and after resetting and checking connections, I called tech
support and the ONLY message for outage in a multi-state area is "in and
around Weaverville NC.” Really? Such luck. And I keep coming up with
alternative things to do and they all revolve around the internet. This is when
the cloud is really not useful. I could balance my checkbook but the statement
hasn't been downloaded. The bills I need to pay? Online. The file for book
prices I need to update? Dropbox. So predictable.
• At Chris and Sculley’s birthdays party, we had a
remarkably lengthy conversation about…kitchen sponges! Who knew people had such
strong opinions. Ruth often travels with a brand new sponge. Put your sponges
in the dishwasher? Of course (and I do too). There were a few looks around the
table that made me think not everyone was anti-bacteria obsessed. Ruth said she
expected to see this in the PNewS. Here
it is!
• An early morning wander around downtown Asheville is
refreshing and kind of educational. It’s quiet and cool and the streets are
empty. I suppose somewhere there are people going to work but it doesn't feel
like that despite it being almost 9am. Tourists are apparently elsewhere,
sleeping or eating. Retail shops remain locked up tight. It's a different time
in a familiar place. The only things open are pushing coffee. I am reminded
that I enjoy hanging out in coffee shops though after my maximum of one
designer coffee...what then? I linger over a bubbly water.
• What is it about all the books on apparently all of our
bedside tables? I know we are all still reading. What puts these in last place?
Me? It's the library--too many temptations there with due dates so they get
priority, but I have put a moratorium on library books. I just wiped off hunks
of dust (it's humid) off the books on the bedside table and that caused me to
set the limit! (Tom Bodett on “Wait Wait Don't Tell Me” said he decided he had
read books that lived on his bedside table longer than six months...via
osmosis…)
• Apparently, I have a hierarchy of Things I Don’t Like To
Do. This morning I needed to call the electrician. I decided to do dishes
instead and I hate doing dishes.
• I have been
thinking a lot lately about how we communicate. I have said this before but it
just seems to get harder. For instance, I prefer email, hate the phone. But
email is dicey—none of the nuances of verbal conversation. And timing is
challenging. Some people are regular email checkers. Some do it once a
day. Sometimes I just have to pick
up the phone. I am teetering on the edge of texting. I am beginning to see its
value and the increasing number of people for whom it is a preferred form of
communication, but it means a new phone and plan (and more money). Sigh. See?
It just gets harder.
• It is interesting to see who falls into
the thousands of emails in the inbox sort vs. the nice tidy filed inbox type.
People I really like have bursting inboxes while I go wacko when there are more
than…well, I can now tolerate 100 pretty well, though prefer under 50.
No quote to end this issue. I just ask you to
PLEASE VOTE.
Thanks.
