PNewL PNewS 32.3: The Storm Edition

 

PNewL PNewS

Volume 32 Issue 3                        “All the pnews that phits.”             October 2024

Editor’s note: I am trying to get this out while it is still fresh. I’ve worked on verb tenses and some of it is just rough and frankly so am I. I hope it conveys the experience. I’ve often thought as I listen to the news that at some point most of the people in the world will have some level of PTSD. I’m more sure of it now. I have listed some places at the end I recommend supporting should you feel inclined. (NO pressure! I thought it might save people from having to ask!)

 

Storm related: Hurricane Helene

The Storm hit hard around 7:30am (or was it 8:30?) Friday, September 27, though many of us were awakened by winds as early as 5am. I did several circuits within the house, looking out the windows. Everything was fine—it was windy and trees were bendy but it wasn’t anything scary. Then the wind picked up, blasts coming from all directions and water slapping at the house. I didn’t take it seriously until a very large branch (I could not carry it without cutting some branches off) hit the house and a window that, remarkably and thankfully, didn’t break. And I thought, shouldn’t I be in the middle of the house, away from windows? I sat on the floor by the laundry room with Buster in my lap. and from there, I could see the windows in both the front and the back of the house.          

     Sometimes, I couldn’t see anything out there. It was gray and misty. Only it was more solid than mist. I couldn’t see my back fence. I couldn’t see anything out front. (A tornado?) People often say the sound is like a freight train, but to me it was more like being under the flight path of an airport. Next time I walked around the house, looking out the various windows, all the trees were gone. The giant Wild Cherry I’d had bears in just a few weeks before was in the driveway, the dogwood and poplars in the front yard, the Leyland Cypress were neatly laying in a row along Jeff and Susan’s driveway (or so it appeared at first glance). It was so much lighter with all those trees gone—I could brush my teeth without turning on the light which was good because there was no power or water for the next 18 days.

     Jeff and Susan delivered the world’s best cup of coffee around 11. They figured they were safe because we were between bands.

     Winds died down around 1pm.

     We walked around in disbelief for the rest of the day. Chainsaws seemed to start up immediately.

     Mail was delivered on Monday.

     For several days in a row, the morning temperature was 60 degrees and every morning it felt different.

     Four or five days with not much communication, then a little cell service if I walked to the bottom of the road. I could receive texts but couldn’t tell if I could send them—I’d get notifications that they hadn’t sent but then occasionally I would get a response. It was confusing.

     Our little road is damaged. It’s always been a gravel road but most of that has washed away and the water took most of the dirt. The ditch on one side has become a gulley. It’s a single lane which is particularly challenging when large trucks are using it. These things take time and patience.

      Meanwhile it seemed to get a little better each day except for when it didn’t. Patsy and Ernie were out of town and they offered their home as a place to retreat to—their house had power and water though a tree fell on their community water tower and the future was unknown. They also have a gorgeous view with little reminder of the Storm. A couple days it felt like all I could do was sit on their deck and charge devices and take a shower, for which I was grateful.

     Jeff and Susan and Rob and I formed a pod like in Covid days--we ate dinner together each night. We also moved a lot of trees (eight off the doublewide) and branches as Jeff cut them into manageable pieces. Jeff is the Chainsaw Master—at one point, he took off his ear protectors because he needed to listen to the tree. We cleared three long driveways among other things.

     The dinner pod evolved. It was so freaking comforting to know I was having dinner with those people. The other night I thought I am so tired I can’t, but I could and it was good. Susan was kind of the captain of the kitchen—we all participate but she’s the boss. Jeff was captain of the hard work and Rob and I are support staff and it all worked. One night, I made fresh pasta because the pasta dough I put in the freezer a couple weeks ago was defrosting. The sauce was also defrosting: “Just roasted tomatoes” the container said. I simmered some stuff and the best part was Susan wasn’t the kitchen captain—she got a night off. Rob and I agreed that we may never know how to thank these folks.

      There are daily briefings twice a day on the BPR radio station saying what’s opened, where to get potable or non-potable water (grateful for the creek for flushing toilets!), how the municipal water system is progressing (one 36” diameter pipe was 25’ underground and was uprooted(?)!!). It’s surprisingly helpful. I feel like I am getting insights into media/admin relations –there are definitely personality issues there!  

     I took garbage to a dumpster and went to the grocery store for the first time! Yay.

     The place I spend most of my time, Local Cloth, is decimated. It had 11feet of water and is now filled with toxic sludge. I missed the initial announcements because of no cell or internet and because when I finally rejoined the connected, my fuzzy brain couldn’t go through the 200+ backlog of emails. Judi, the Board Chair was quoted in the NY Times, we have a Go Fund Me. People want to help. I’m tired.

     Power is coming but right now it’s five miles away and most of the poles are down between here and there. The road is passable, single lane only, rough and slow going but it’s better than some.

     I’m supposed to be in Ushuaia, Argentina and for some reason the tour company doesn’t get it. They think I should be arriving on the next plane. Maybe I should (the airport is closed and I can’t). Thank goodness I opted for trip insurance. I said to our dinner pod…I can’t leave. I need to be here—I feel responsible.

 

The Helene Diet

We are eating very well--we need to eat the contents of our freezers. We are also working very hard. I suspect that’s where the weight loss came or maybe it’s stress. My Apple Watch tells me I’m exercising and walking and standing as it would like me to. There is still so much to do and I feel old.

 

Buster

He’s been affected too. He is spoiled and I did it and I’m not sorry except for when he gets so stressed out by the lack of routine. Tonight he took off in the dark and I had to let him go because…it’s dark. Thankfully, he came home and stretched out in the middle of the bed as he often does and slept like a rock.

 

Miscellaneous Observations

• I just wanna play Wordle. (There is no power or water.)

• My computer screen is filthy. I tend to do most computer work in low light and now that I am working out in the sunshine, it’s not good. I need to do something about that but all the recommendations online include “distilled water” and other things I don’t have.

• Everyone should have a battery-operated radio. It really helped me feel connected.

• I peed in the toilet. We agreed that we pee in the woods. But tonight, after dark, I peed in the toilet and I felt guilty. The toilet is kind of a nightmare right now. I was glad it was just my toilet. You can’t understand this stuff unless you’re living it.

• People drive fast on my little road—it’s not hard since it is going downhill but Helene has provided a speed bump just below my driveway, where the creek took over the road and washed away the dirt and gravel and left only a very rustic cobblestone. It slows just about everyone down.

• I find I read about 10 pages each night and then the next night I have to go back and read half of them again. Slow going. Others say they have the same experience.

• One of the things I learned recently is how much I rely on my hearing to keep me safe. When Buster and I are walking, I know where cars are. I have been grateful I still hear pretty well. Then the Storm changed things and the creek got really loud, and chainsaws and helicopters were everywhere and I lost the security of feeling I had a sense of my environment. Plus unfamiliar vehicles are using our broken roads and they don’t really know how to drive around an impulsive dog. It’s another unsettling part of the new normal.

• After I got power back, I watched ET…on VHS. When I got to the part where the bicycles take off, I broke down. I wondered when it was going to happen. I knew the tears were hiding somewhere but who knew it would be that funny little movie which holds a warm place in my heart from my movie theatre days, that would be the thing to unlock all the pent-up emotion. Cathartic.

• We have been very fortunate with the weather since the Storm. Beautiful sunshiney days with comfortable temperatures. I am starting to get nervous about low humidity and no rain and all of the fuel (dry leaves and gobs of wood).

• Pro-tip: I bought a tube of Dr Bronner’s toothpaste to try out, and boy was I glad I did! It doesn’t get foamy which when I was having to boil water really cut down on the morning water use.

 

Losing and Finding and Losing Stuff

This seems to be a constant battle. I can’t keep track of anything but what I use every day. I know that my headlamp will be in the middle of the bed—that’s handy to know and a little unusual. I finally put the vacuum cleaner away because I almost broke my toe on it in the middle of the night. I put the Luci lights on the windowsill each morning so they’ll be charged for the next night.

     It’s the other stuff that gets lost. I found my pruning saw under the recycling. I’m not sure how I found it or why I found it or why it was there but there you have it. Then I lost it for a while, which pissed me off and found it again and put it on the stack of important things that are on the corner of my craft table. That’s kind of Command Central these days where I put things that I want to be able to find again. I now have a basket for charging cords. To people who design electronics: IT IS NOT HELPFUL TO HAVE A MULTITUDE OF CHARGING CORDS THAT ONLY FIT ONE THING DURING A DISASTER. (First world problem but then a lot of this is!) 

     In my own way, I am organized, but there are so many pieces of the puzzle right now. It’s hard to keep them all straight. And the nights are long and very dark.

 

     The power came on on Day 18. I am at the end of the line. Jeff and Susan got theirs back on Day 16. Rob says it took them five hours to put in a new pole near his house, then they had to connect everyone else on up the mountain. I cried when the nice man came down my driveway in a giant electrical truck from Indiana and said, you should have power. I did. Living with a well that had not been breached by storm water, it meant I had good water. No more over chlorinated potable water! Yay!

     My internet provider, Frontier, says they show no outages in the area. I think they might change their tune when they come out. It occurred to me the other day that all the wires in the road may be from the days of landlines. If that’s true, who will clean all that up? No one’s coming to restring those, right?

     And we are the lucky ones. Our houses are only slightly battered. My roofer has come and gone. (I love that I don’t have an electrician or a plumber relationship but I have a roofer I like and he returns my phone calls. Whoever thought having a good relationship with a roofer would come in handy?)

     In the Life Goes On category, Local Cloth is rising from the mud. The building managers had flood insurance and the mud removal and sanitation process is well under way. We are making plans – my head is spinning with all of the plans…all of the people who want to help. I have tears just below the surface for all the kindness.

     This weekend we went to Charlotte to a Market where they opened up 10 booths for people from WNC. It was very sweet (and remarkably well run). People were very kind. I took a bushel of apples to support the farmers and people ate all of them. We went with the work of several artists to see if we could find a new revenue stream. We sold a solid amount of stuff and we laughed a lot.

     During this Market, I got a message from a friend I had reached out to for ideas of markets in Greensboro and her market friends stepped up in a big way. I couldn't read the messages during the Charlotte market because they made me cry. People are being so nice.

     A fiber mill owner in New York collected yarn and wool at the Sheep and Wool festival there and they are delivering it here for people who’ve lost their stuff! Fiber people are THE BEST.

     I guess I should add that Disasters uncover the best in people (and there is some “worst” but I won’t go there).

 

Things I am Learning & Miscellaneous Observations (from the before times)

• I had to get a new phone cover. I buy compostable covers and I was impressed that my first one lasted 3+ years. I bought a light colored one thinking it would be easier to find in my purse. Surprisingly, it isn’t.

• The other day (pre-Helene) I was waiting for someone to ask me how my day was—I was prepared with an answer. I’d had an argument with Alexa and the GPS guy in my car. I thought that could give one pretty good insight into my day. No one asked…so I’m telling you.

 

Wanna donate???

• BELOVED Asheville. Historically works with the unhoused. Since the Storm they are everywhere doing everything—they had flush brigades for senior housing, bringing in water to flush toilets. They’ve been repairing people’s homes, matching people who need with people who have, and supplying basics like food, water, and clothes. https://www.belovedasheville.com/

• Local Cloth: my people https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-resilient-fiber-artists-and-farmers

• Manna Food Bank: https://www.mannafoodbank.org/

• Community Foundation of Western North Carolina: Contributions will support recovery efforts related to the devastating impacts of Hurricane Helene in Western North Carolina.

https://cfwnc.fcsuite.com/erp/donate/create/fund?funit_id=1332

 

These are all my people.

PNewL PNewS 32.2

 

PNewL PNewS

Volume 32 Issue 2                        “All the pnews that phits.”             September 2024

 

Christmas in July

     Sara has a thing about Christmas. Well, that is not totally accurate—I think she’s pretty average on the prep, decorating, celebrating part. She has a thing for the aftermath of Christmas…that lingers. Her Facebook page is peppered with photos of Christmas trees on the curb in April or decorations that are left up for months or even the better part of the year. I always think of her when I see something Christmas-y that is out of place.

     I am not a huge fan of Christmas but I love the decorations. When I moved to this house, there was a tree down the road that looked just like a little Christmas tree in the wild. When the holidays approached, I decided to decorate it. Someone actually pulled it out by the roots. I thought that was a bit harsh but I was not dissuaded. I moved the decorations closer to home.

      For years, I decorated the tree across from my driveway with large shiny ornaments. I did it anonymously. I remember one neighbor wondering who it was that was doing it. Someone said it was me –I didn’t say anything. Another said it couldn’t be Peggy—it started before she lived here. That made me happy. Then someone started taking the ornaments and that made me sad so I moved this harmless silliness onto my property.

     I don’t just decorate for Christmas. I have Valentine’s hearts and St Patrick’s Day shamrocks and Easter eggs, patriotic hooha. I do it all though I just realized I forgot July 4^th and Labor Day. Oops. Susan helps—she’s very clever, especially around Halloween. It’s a harmless hobby and I like to think it makes someone smile or roll their eyes or…react. I like that.

     This past Christmas I hung some cheap red and gold balls in a tree in my yard—an American Sweetgum that I got from the Greenworks native tree giveaway. I planted it two years ago when it was a twig. It’s about eight feet tall now. Oh my. I thought I’d leave the balls in that tree until it got close to hard to reach them—see how long it takes to grow that far. It’s entertaining and when I catch a glimpse of a Christmas ball, it makes me think of Sara and that’s a good thing.

     I also put a few of those cheap balls on the road below my house before the holidays. I walk Buster down there every morning and it is cheery to see the little glint of red. I also thought other people might notice it—locals and visitors and workers—and might have a moment. Wishful thinking.

     Recently the Brain Trust that is the people who keep our roadsides…tidy? Safe? In check? shredded the vegetation alongside the road and I couldn’t find the ball—I couldn’t find the tree…it was gone. (When I see the ASPLUNDH: The Tree Experts trucks, I have an actual physical reaction. They are…savage tree destroyers IMHO. They broke my mailbox post in their shredding—well, they cracked it and I taped it up with bright duct take. So there!) Several weeks later I saw a glint in the bushes – it was red, it was whole, it was waiting for me? I re-hung the ball in another bush. It still makes me happy.

     This morning on our walk, the balls, both the original red and another gold that appeared one day, are both gone. C’est la vie. Christmas decorating season is right around the corner.

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• The humidity has been challenging this summer. It is not something I enjoy…at all. I find myself lying under the ceiling fan to dry off. I am unable to knit on the front porch because the needle sticks to the yarn. I’m done. (Not sure what that means—it’s not like me being “done” changes anything…I’m just saying…)

• A while back, I finished the book The Address Book: What Street Addresses reveal about Identity Race Wealth and Power. I mentioned it last issue. It was really good though took me a long time to read because I am that sort. In the final chapter, she talked about what's next in trying to get everyone an address--not having one prevents people from accessing services, including emergency services.  (Did you know there are Vanity Addresses in NYC? They improve the je ne sais quoi – upgrades their image? Trump's property (properties?) has one--they are addresses for buildings that aren't where the address says they are and have resulted in death, because emergency responders can’t find them, but that's another story.)

     In the final chapter, she talked about what3words which is a navigational system--a phone app--that assigns 3 words to every 3 square meters ON EARTH. I downloaded it and learned where I sit on my front porch is nightfall.disappear.plume. The words that are assigned have no relationship to neighbors, but it's like a GPS coordinate so that if someone needs to be found, this can pinpoint it. (They use simpler words for urban areas because they expect more use--the Arctic's words are multiple syllables.)

      Shortly after finishing the book, I opened the Islander’s Assn. newsletter and they are using it on Georgian Bay! The words for our cookhouse on Osawa Island include headliner.quilts.dreaming. observe.tyrant.magnifies. bland.lasses.handover. (There are probably more but you get the picture).

     It's a rabbit hole but I find it interesting and thought you might too. And so ends this public service announcement. You are welcome.

• I received a phone call at 5am on the landline. (Yes I still have one and it stopped working for a couple weeks and I survived so maybe I should disconnect it but there’s more to this story.) It was letting me know that the emergency services 911 number in NEW HAMPSHIRE was not working and gave me a 603 number I could call if I had an emergency…in NEW HAMPSHIRE. I think that was very kind of them but please don’t do it again.

• Recently I learned about a do-gooder trip that I would really like to take. I have been away quite a bit this year and I wrote, “I am very interested but my travel calendar feels used up for 2024. I am trying to convince myself that I could borrow from 2025.”

• Since Buster and I have started walking on a kinda busy road I have noticed that the sounds of cars on the pavement are so different—it’s obviously the tires. There’s a Rubicon Jeep I see almost every morning and we have gotten friendly, the driver and I—I wave, he waves…every morning—and I can hear him from up the valley and then down the valley. Jeff says tires on a vehicle like that are nobby (nubby?) for off-roading. Mystery solved.

• On a related topic, I bought some new walking shoes and they make more noise than I am accustomed to—turns out they too are nobbier (nubbier?) than my old shoes.

• Earlier in the summer, I stopped feeding the birds until fall. I continued to feed them to use up seed. On the last day, they emptied two birdfeeders for the first time since cold weather. Little pig birds!

• I rarely feel like I can speak authoritatively on anything. I follow some social media pages on Iceland and it always cracks me up that people are willing to go on and on about where we should all go based on their 4-day or week-long trip there. I’ve been there three times and I could tell you my favorite parts but I can’t imagine feeling that knowledgeable.

• One of the downsides of driving long distances alone is that I have no one to talk to about the things I see along the way that could be interesting to talk about. Recently on I-75, I drove for a period alongside a vehicle with vanity plates that read “3XALADY” or something like that. I thought, based on her driving, I could quibble with her on that. Then as I scanned the radio stations, I heard a very cheerful woman say, “There is so much freedom in Jesus,” and I wanted her to elaborate. And how many times are you tempted to call that number on the vehicles with “How am I driving?” painted on it—do you think some of those drivers forget they could be ratted on? And finally, my favorite company to hate these days: Asplundh Tree Experts (*see earlier rant above, continued here)…seriously? Experts? You should see our neighborhood. One neighbor said it wasn’t as bad as it has been in the past. A ringing endorsement. Another said things will grow back. Sigh.There they were--a flotilla of Asplundh trucks driving down I-75 in central Ohio or maybe Kentucky, jockeying for position and blocking the fast lane. I suspect they were headed down to help post-hurricane, and thanks for that, but have some consideration! Perhaps it’s best I continue to drive alone…

• I live in “the country” which is fast becoming less that and more suburbia I think, but there are some days when I’ve been listening to the birds and the squirrels and the peace of the neighborhood and suddenly there’s a lot of truck noise or grading the road or multiple mowers or chainsaws or all of the bove and it doesn’t feel like the idyllic backdrop I think of as home.

• I don’t have space to go into any detail on my new project, The Good Ship Please Don’t Pop, an inflatable kayak that has yet to experience water, but it's something to look forward to in the next issue!

 

“I could spend whole days in near silence reading or writing or speaking in the simpler heart-sure vernacular of human-to-dog.” Gail Caldwell, Let’s Take the Long Way

 

PNewL PNewS 32.1

PNewL PNewS

 

Volume 32 Issue 1                       “All the pnews that phits.”                                     May 2024

 

 The Art of Digging Up Rocks

Where I live, one does not dig holes, one digs up rocks and collectively they reveal the hole. I suspect I’ve said this before—my neighbor used to say, you can’t stick a knitting needle in this dirt without hitting a rock. Sound familiar?

     The problem is, when I first hit a rock, I do not know if it is marble-size or coffee table-size. It’s all part of the fun and adventure.

     Everywhere I have created a hole, there is a pile of rocks…sometimes I create a border with the rocks but that is ineffective and hard to mow around. In one area, I gathered them into a quasi-artsy display, a rock garden of sorts but the earth is absorbing them and these giant (to me) rocks are disappearing. One of these rocks was so heavy, I pinched a nerve in my shoulder moving it. And now, it’s half submerged. I moved others to a stepping stone walk to the outdoor shower. This spring, ants have apparently moved in between the rocks and dug up dirt beneath them and they too are sinking (the rocks, not the ants. The ants will survive us all, along with all the other bugs). These projects obviously need some work and more regular attention.

     Every spring I have these moments of grandeur when I think I will plant trees and bushes and plants and bulbs. These all involve holes which involve dealing with rocks

     I am not a gardener, but I do aspire to my yard looking…better. (There was a meme on social media that read, You are not a bad gardener—the plant just didn’t try hard enough. Words to live by.)

     It may seem that I have spent enough time writing about my yard—and if you saw it, you’d think it should look better.

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• Since I returned from away, Buster has been a bit of a challenge. He’s eaten three candy bar/gifts + candy sushi, nine mini Kind bars + half a bag of dates (unpitted), part of a bag of dry beans and three bananas. He knocks over and inspects the paper recycling almost every time I leave the house without him. Sigh. Beth said something like we would never accept the behavior in our human friends that we accept daily in our pets. Indeed.

• In a small corner of my life, I read scholarship applications and rank them. It’s a humbling experience. I keep wondering what it would be like to be so smart and athletic and successful at such a young age. When one’s report card (do they still call it that?) is covered in 95-100s, how do they feel when they get an 89…or an 83? Those scores break my heart for them—but I would have been pleased to see those on my report card…

• In three years, I will have been writing the PNewS for half my life. This is the kind of thing that comes to mind as I walk Buster. (It was a more complicated story problem than I would have imagined. Math never was my strong suit.)

• I finally uploaded my last tax document. I was trying to figure out why this is such a traumatic (I tried to decide if that word was overkill, but really it isn't) experience, filing my tax documents. It is a seriously fraught time for me—this year in particular. (The accountancy firm merged with another and this is its first tax season under the new name and management--I hope that's why it's been so challenging.) For me, there're authority figure issues, not feeling capable, frustration with others I am waiting on who don't exhibit any responsibility or urgency, and then the exposure of my private business to my accountant and her staff. I have spent a stupid amount of time this year trying to get the link to their "vault." Why does it always feel like this is the first time people have done this stuff? [Editor’s note: It’s over, I survived another tax season. Hopefully it won’t come up again til next year!]

• Recently I read the following quote, written by a young person. There is so much here I find charming, I had to share: “I know that if I continue to be motivated to learn and better myself, …and keep reading books and being curious, I will be on track to be seventy years old, sitting on my pleather couch, reading a book about gardening.”

• I'm reading a book by one of the people who I'll take a class from at the writer's retreat. It's about the importance of everyone having a physical address. (I thought about my homestay in San Jose Costa Rica--I remember my house was described as near a bike repair shop that didn't exist anymore.) It's fascinating. They mapped a neighborhood in the slums of Kolkata and gave them addresses that are more like GPS coordinates and it was really effective in making people feel like they belonged, were part of something bigger PLUS people can get services they can't get without an address. There are people in government in all our states whose job it is to assign addresses. One guy in West Virginia had to name thousands of streets. He said it was exhausting. Who knew?

• And another tidbit from Diedre Mask’s book “The Address Book: What Street Addresses Reveal About Identity, Race, Wealth, and Power”: In England in the 1700s, 90% of men were named John, Edward, William, Henry, Charles, James, Richard and Robert. Sounds like my elementary school class. (BTW, Diedre was wonderful—I want her to be my new best friend.)

•  Sometimes when I am sending an email or posting on social media, I think, that would be a good pnewsy kinda thing so I copy and paste it into the file that becomes the next edition. Sometimes it’s interesting. Ofttimes it’s not.  

• I have a friend whose father used to ask deep probing questions every time I saw him. The first time I met him, at a barbecue, I was a deer in the headlights. After that, I would prepare myself not to look quite so boggled. As I continue to ponder how different people’s brains work, I was reminded of these interactions which I came to enjoy: what’s he going to ask this time?!?! That’s the way his brain works and I love that about him.

     My brain? I was walking Buster this fine cool morning and had an AHA! moment about car paint. There are new cars that have a different look to them because of the paint—it looks matte but it’s actually…well, more like gel nail polish. It’s kind of thickly one dimensional. I watched a vlogbrothers YouTube video the other day and Hank was ranting about this too! And he did the research. Turns out (and I kinda figured) the new paint doesn’t contain the shiny bits that make my (nine-year old!) car look different from new cars.

• I went through all my credit card statements to gather up information for taxes. I find it a kind of 

retrospective of the year. In some ways I am very frugal, in other ways, not so much. Some months I wonder what I ate, sometimes I feel like I must have spent half the month in the grocery store. And often I think, what are you going to do with all that yarn?

• Back in the early days of the PNewS, it was a hard copy, on paper. I asked folks to send stamps. I went to Office Depot and steeled myself for the lengthy process of getting front-back copies without jamming up the machine. I taped the copies together and mailed them. Once I got a notice from the post office that “mail like mine” needed to be secured better. I taped more. Then it was a website—I learned to write code--which wound up unsupported by the provider. At that point, I started attaching a PDF copy. That reminds me of a friend who said she couldn’t read it because her download was so slow. Now it is a blog. It’s been a long winding road—wonder what’s next.

• In a jet lag haze post-overnight flight to Reykjavik, I decided pho and a beer could be the perfect meal for a solo traveler—good for me, filling, tasty and takes forever to eat. I would like to hang out in cafes and restaurants like others do but I eat fast and boom, it’s time to go. The first really nice meal I ate out early on in my travel career, I finished in less than 20 minutes (that’s from when I sat down to when I got up). I am not a good lingerer.

• Recently, I moved a mirror in my house because it was behind where I sit for Zooms (only took me four years of Zooms with glare behind me to deal with it!). Now I come across the mirror in its new location and am surprised, and I miss it in its old location where I could do a just-before-I-walk-out-the-door check in on hair and oh I don’t know…to check if there is toothpaste on my shirt? I am such a  creature of habit.

• A woman I met at the writer’s retreat recommended a podcast/blog that focuses on memoir. As with all mailing lists, I paid attention in the beginning and now I scan and delete, and eventually I will unsubscribe. This one caught my attention: “What if the smallest almost forgotten moments were the ones that shaped us most?” I thought, well, that sounds like the PNewL PNewS.  

 

“At 51, believe it or not, or believe it and pity me if you are young and swift, I still don’t know, truly know ‘what I want to be.’…But in that profuse upstairs delicatessen of mine I’m as open to every wild possibility as I was at 13, although even I know that the chances of acting them out diminish with each heartbeat.” Seymour Krim

 

Editor’s note: I have written a bit about my recent trip to Iceland and it is a separate beast. I’ll post it to the blog when I get to it.

 

PNewL PNewS Volume 31 Issue 4

 

PNewL PNewS

Volume 31 Issue 4         “All the pnews that phits.”           February 2024

 

Let’s talk about Cooking

     I have a love/like/I don’t want to relationship with cooking. I never hate it, but there are plenty of times when I just don’t want to. The older I get, the more frequently that is true and the more often I find myself expressing gratitude to those who cook for me (most often in restaurants).

     I have had friends who raised children who proclaim they never cooked. What did the children eat? My mother did not really like to cook but she raised five healthy well-fed children, in a traditional protein/veg/carb manner. (She took to cooking more adventurously after we left the house when she had a more appreciative audience and only a party of two.) As a kid, I remember occasionally imploring her to think about dinner—it seemed like time was short and she was reading her book and making no moves towards the kitchen. Since her repertoire was pretty limited and she relied heavily on The I Hate to Cookbook, she had the timing down.

     Dad helped with meals occasionally—he was the grilling guy and had a brief interest in making fresh pasta but that was all pretty special occasion-ally. We didn’t really eat out because Dad ate out at lunch every day, so Mom cooked for a family of seven endlessly and we usually finished the meal in under ten minutes. We were ruthless and not an inspiring audience.

     I am a bit more adventurous than mom—and that’s probably because our situations were so totally different. Often cooking for “just me,” I can get away with a fair amount. I can eat just about anything (except liver—well, all organ meats—and beets…and don’t bother thinking you can get me to like beets). In addition, I have had the time to take cooking classes, and study recipes online and while traveling.

     I’ve been on a cooking jag of late. New York Times Cooking has been helpful—I like all kinds of Asian cuisine and they have been inspiring. And Instagram and Facebook think I need new recipes so they show me stuff. And a knitter I follow posts recipes every day of January which she calls Veganuary. I want to make it all so I make my grocery lists and come home with most of what I need but not all and then I can’t remember which recipes I’d bought for and inevitably don’t have all of what I need for any one thing so I make do.

     The other night when it was cold and blustery and I wanted comfort food, I did my occasional dinner from cans. This always seems like cheating, and unfair that it can be pretty darn tasty. Cans of beans (pinto or kidney or some sort of white bean), tomatoes (whatever kind is on the shelf), chopped green chilis + more heat (as Susan calls it), put in a big pot with sauteed onions and garlic (and whatever other veg is lying around) and chopped up sausage or in this case, leftover fancy hot dogs. Add a sprinkle of grated cheese. Ta da.

     I do get tired of things though. Sometimes when I look at the pot of whatever I came up with, I wonder who I think is going to eat it all but more often than not, it gets eaten. Leftovers are a blessing and so is a space in the freezer.

 

 

 

 

 

The Buster Report

I was kinda thinking there wouldn’t be a Buster report this issue. He has generally been pretty good. He hasn’t run away for more than a half-hour in a while. He is a crazily affectionate guy. He’s good company and he is good when he’s at Bonnie’s Puppy Camp.

     The other day, just as it was heading toward dusk, I looked out at the backyard, and there were two bunnies…playing…or doing a mating dance or some combo of the two. It was precious—they chased and hopped over each other. It truly looked like they were having fun. Then they departed for parts unknown. Shortly after, Buster wanted to go out, and he retraced every step those bunnies took…and he has been looking for them ever since. (Editor’s note: Shortly after writing this, I came home to find Buster had eaten half a bag of dates. Sigh.)

 

Just a Teeny Bit about Travel

Bill, Denis and I made another trip to Portugal—a little bit of Lisbon, several days of Tavira, and a road trip up and back. (It’s less than four hours so it wasn’t much of a road trip.) It was delightful. We went for the period before Christmas so we got to see how another country does it and I didn’t have to defend my lack of interest in celebrating the holiday. Our apartment was right across from an itty-bitty Christmas market and the venue for live music—they had a production of something each day in the run up to Christmas. Some of it was truly wonderful, some not so but still win-win. Oh and I was in Tavira with Bill and Denis! Always a good thing.

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations 

• Don’t you love it when people who don’t respond to multiple emails are provoked when their emails aren’t responded to pronto? Pet peeve.

• Maybe this is just an introvert thing, but there are times when I am grateful for getting points for making a date to get together and then it’s cancelled for weather, illness, general malaise or some other snafu, and I get to stay home.

• I was once a very good speller. The computer has destroyed that.

• Sometimes I sit down and my watch warns me that I need to stand up to get “credit” for this hour. (I was just standing…) Smart watch? I’d like to quibble.

 • I saw on Instagram that there was a knit-tiny-things knitalong and that sounded like fun and there was a pattern for a garland that included a pig that I liked for $3. Such a deal! I bought it. It’s in Norwegian! I thought, how hard can it be? VERY. Google translate helped but there’s a long way to go. I’m a nut.

• I made an ATM deposit. I realized there was a mistake but figured that someone would find it when they audited the activity that day—it’s happened before. I guess they don’t look at them anymore. I called the branch to rectify the problem—it became my problem, not theirs. After convincing the branch manager that I was not a lying cheating scoundrel (I feel that way most of the time when I deal with them…and it’s a Credit Union for crying out loud…they are supposed to like the people…or so I thought), it took them two days to give me my $50 back. Note to self: be more careful.

• I took off for a morning of errands. At the first stop, I looked down and realized the black fleece jacket I was wearing was covered—covered—in short red Buster hair along with the occasional longer white Peggy hair. There was also a small something that when scraped turned into a fine powder that spread across the jacket. What to do? I decided to ignore it—I’m at the invisible age. No one will care, or notice, but me.

• An unintended consequence of lackadaisical laundry habits allowed me to go through my entire stack of blue jeans. Since I buy most of my clothes at Goodwill, the jeans are various sizes colors shapes and brands. Going through each one at the beginning of the season reacquainted me with my inventory. It’s almost like I planned it!

• I do not buy potato chips often. When I do, I need to buy the potato chips I like—not the ones I think I “should” or that are on sale—or I’ll just waste empty calories.

• I was driving home from downtown on a sunny day in later December. It was kinda warm and my windows were down. Two guys from the City (there was a white SUV with the city logo parked nearby), opened the fire hydrant, and blasted my car, inside and out, temporarily making it impossible to see. I was understandably shocked. Thankfully there was no one ahead of me or coming towards me and I was fine—shook up, but fine. My concern was that the person behind me was on a motorcycle! This all happened suddenly and there was no time to react. I drove the next quarter mile in a daze... By then I figured it was too late to go back and I was wet.

     When I got home, I wanted to let someone know, but who? I found a Facebook page for the Asheville Fire Department. (I figured they must know something about fire hydrants!) We had a friendly exchange and they determined the people were not Fire Department people. I wrote the Water Department and got no response. Then I wrote the Question Man at Asheville Watchdog, the independent online news source in town. He said he’d check into it. He did! He got about as far as I did, though someone from the City said they thought their people would be smarter than that but they’d tell folks to be more careful or some blahblah along those lines, and it was determined no motorcyclist had died on that day or been badly injured so there you have it. My advice: when you see someone messing with a fire hydrant, make no assumptions about their intentions.

• Just spent an hour listening to Brennan Center for Justice’ lawyers talk about some of the things happening in the courts these days. I am so glad there are people whose brains work the way theirs do. I could no more think or talk the way they do than fly (which no one should trust me to do either). It has given me something to ponder—how different people’s brains work. It made me wonder if that is the source of issues I’ve had and have with some other people—we just don’t get each other. Our brains work so differently and perhaps I don’t appreciate that the way I could. I am sorry it has taken me so long to grok this.

• I’ve been pondering my next tattoo. I have—to my mind—a great idea. My research has taken me down several rabbit holes/black holes of time. It’s potentially controversial if done disrespectfully and I would never want to do that. I have been contacting sources who have weighed in and I think I could do it appropriately. I still need to talk to people closer to it to determine if I am going to offend and then confirm some details. This is complicated (and permanent!) When I get somewhere with it, I will let you know. (Well, that was kind of mysterious—I love me a little mystery.)

• It has come to my attention that it is February 20th. How’d that happen? Seems we were just wading through the holidays and now we are waddling towards Spring. Slow down 2024! This is going to be long year—we need to pace ourselves!

 

It’s been a while...nice to see you again