PNewL PNewS 30.3: I Could Do That

                                                        PNewL PNewS

Volume 30 Issue 3                         “All the pnews that phits.”                          Sept/Oct 2022

 

I Could Do That

 

     I realized recently that when I say, “I could do that,” I wind up doing a lot of interesting things. It took me all this time to actually hear myself say it…and know…here we go again.

     In the early stages of “coming out of Covid,” Judi said it would be nice to restart a much-loved event in the crafty world of Asheville—the Anything Fiber Sale—if only we had someone to lead it. As she said it, I thought, I could do that and then I thought, I wonder if I said that out loud, and lo and behold, I had. What followed was the coming together of a wonderful team of people who did what they said they were going to do and made it all come together. We organized and advertised and sorted and emailed and Score! A successful event—a garage sale for fiber nerds—wrapped up with 40+ happy vendors and hundreds of happy shoppers. A good time was had by all.

     Back in the early ‘90s, I discovered travel. I went to Australia by myself which turned out to be a remarkably good thing to do. Next, I thought I would like to take a cooking class at the Oriental Hotel in Bangkok. (I read about it in Gourmet… remember magazines? They were fun.) As a 97% pure white person, I thought I really should do the Grand Tour of Europe that I had never done and perhaps I could tie them together with a few months in between and the Round the World Tour was born, because…all together now…I could do that. (I remember Steve asking me why I was going and one of my answers was…because I can.)

     Plenty of more travel ensued and each time it just seemed do-able so I went. Remember when I flew 50 flights on United to get two free Business Class tickets anywhere in the world? Took me 2 ½ days to get to my parent’s house for Christmas and the same to get home. That was a hoot. 

     When I left California and took a year driving around to try to figure out where to live next, I did the Housesitting Tour (It wasn’t called that but I can’t remember right now what I called it…the Domestic Tour?) because I had a job that was mobile and I had a laptop and a cellphone. Seemed like yes, I could do that.   

     I am finding as I get older, I need to be a teeny bit more discerning. I could do it but is it really what I want to do? I know when I told Bill I would move to Portugal with him, I back peddled but it looks like he did too. There’s still time.

 

Roger Waters Newell 2008-2022

     Roger died peacefully in the presence of a few of his loved ones. It was time—he was ready and it was a nice day. He ate his last meal voraciously as always, and finished it off with a biscuit. The hole was dug, the landing was softened by some leftover wool and Roger the Dodger was off on his next adventure. I will miss him always.

     Buster has not expressed any looking-for-Roger-type behavior. He has been sticking closer to home (’course it was raining a lot) and last night when I went to a fly tying (!) class at Eluvium (WVL brewery) for an hour, he ate the pocket of my jacket...which Bear had eaten before him. (I am grateful that neither dog damaged the outside of the jacket so it lives on. No harm, no foul.) In retrospect, Buster does seem a little bit more needy and worried but we are both settling into the new normal. Off we all go.

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

 

• Several months ago, I read an article titled Your Pillow is Grosser than you Think…or something like that. I gave my pillows some thought and I am not going to go into the details—it’s embarrassing—but they have all been replaced. I highly recommend it. The article said to replace them every two years which I will never do, but maybe every decade or so…

• The postcards I sent from Iceland arrived four months after sending. Good to know.

• There are spaces between the planks on my front porch. I constantly drop knitting markers between them—today, I almost dropped a large sewing needle. One day soon, I need to go rescue whatever is down there.

• I am not good with people or animals at the end of life. It’s so frustrating and the love/annoyance bouncing back and forth is so confusing and tiring and sad. And it’s smelly and disruptive and time-consuming. And then it’s over and I can’t go back…ever. There is no do-over, there is no “Hey wait I have to tell you something…” And there are some niggling bad feelings about not doing enough. Gotta get back to the love part.

• I went on an evening raid to get leftover political signs for the structure of signs for an event I am working on. The election was 10 days ago. Leftover signs are free for the picking, in my humble opinion. As long as I was out, I stopped at the liquor store. As I was leaving, I noticed a really handsome car—it was a Subaru which,…well, this is a Subaru town, so I’ve had a hankering for one. As the apparent owner walked out, I asked, Do you like this car? And he said YES! And lo and behold, he worked for Subaru. Eventually, I said, I like Subaru but when are you going to get a hybrid and he said SOON (and in partnership with Toyota which is what I am driving). He gave me his card. Ha. [I later learned that Asheville was going to get one hybrid and then it would be a matter of ordering it and waiting. I went on the Subaru website to see if they had one on the lot—no—and saw what they did have. All but one car was around $40k. This is not an impulse purchase!]

So I am driving home looking for signs and they were all picked up. (I missed one at a major intersection.) As I was getting out towards my house, I saw one and made a sudden turn, put the car into park and as I opened the door, Buster took off. This is not a quiet country road. People are going 50 mph at the minimum. Buster is going up the hill on this side of the road then crossing to the other with cars honking and slowing down and yelling and I am a wreck. He heads towards a house that has always made me nervous, plus they have chickens. I am sure they are very nice people but then they might shoot me...or him. It’s that kind of place. Buster will not come; I do not feel safe. I go home.

      As I drive in the driveway, the phone rings. A very heavily (Southern) accented voice says, We have your dog. I ask them where they are—I tell them where I am. I drive to them waiting at a stop sign a couple roads away. It is a mom and an adult son who is cuddling Buster. Buster is very pleased with…everything. I get the dog and give the mom a wad of bills (I’ve always wanted to say “a wad of bills.” It was more likely a tidy pile.) and apologize profusely. Disaster averted again. I have since found Buster will not come to me because he knows the game is over, but he will come to everyone else.

• It feels naïve to say but I am pleasantly surprised by how much I have been learning lately. Things just keep trying to get into my brain of very few available memory cells. I am hopeful that I can retain some of it.

• I spend a fair amount of time packing for a trip. Driving to the airport, I realized I could happily travel with only knitting, my computer, ID, a mask and a credit card. (Oh, and a toothbrush + change of clothes.)

• We were talking about travel and how it isn’t as much fun as it once was. Marnie said she was glad that she would never have to go to an airport again except to pick up and drop off friends. It’s one of those comments that has stayed with me. I get it. I’ve had some really annoying experiences at airports and on airplanes, and the frequency seems to be increasing. For the most part, I remember the really bad ones (spending the night in the Charlotte airport, three hours from home, because they were out of hotels and it was already really late) but the minor delays and people being goofballs blur over time. I am not ready to give up on travel quite yet despite the effects my selfishness is having on the environment. I have noticed that I am honing in on places that seem Important for me to visit plus Portugal and Angel Island and...I will give this more thought.

• I am about to head home from Missoula after a wonderful visit with family in a beautiful place. I met my great nephew before he turned one. He is precious and adorable and charming. Isn't it great to be able to leave him when he's fussy? Thanks for sharing your son, and menagerie, and home, Bowen and Hayley. Thanks to Mike and Martha and Grover for the hospitality. And thanks to Peggy and Suzy and Betsy for visits with old (long time, I mean!) friends. I'm sure I missed someone...sorry.  

• Based on some random schedule I created for the PNewS, I am late getting this out. By more than a month. Silly me. Once again, I have several excuses but the bottom line is life and I got in the way of sitting down and organizing my thoughts. Writing this has become part of my routine. I always know things are out of whack when I don’t get to this. So here I am—out of whack or perhaps getting back into whack. I have made a successful trip to meet Sterling, and that has helped. I am going to stop before the end of the page…because I can.  

PNewL PNewS 30.2: Damsels and Gardening and Iceland oh my!

 PNewL PNewS

Volume 30 Issue 2           “All the pnews that phits.”              May 2022, for a few more hours

 

A Distressed Damsel

     It is not easy to confess but I have been known to pull the damsel in distress card. I am not proud of it. I am not proud of it because I wish I had learned enough along the way to be self-sufficient always but, sheesh, just writing that sounds silly. I s’pose I should say I wish I had learned more about how to fix and do and …and I wish I handled the situations better.

     One of my early distressed damsel opportunities came when I was getting ready to leave the country. I was living in Northern California and I was having a major (to me) add on/remodel. The guy had taken his sweet time starting the project and then during it. My neighbor didn’t help by plying them with day old pastries from Safeway, which led to a rat problem in the basement but that’s a whole other story. At the last moment, right before he was finishing and before I was leaving, the hot water heater stopped working. He came to work to wrap things up. I said, you need to fix this. He looked at me quizzically. I didn’t have a choice so I was not giving him one. I went to Yardbirds and got a new hot water heater and he installed it. I suspect there should have been a permit or something but it was done and I was too. I won’t list the other instances that are less memorable but I’ve definitely pulled the card a few times and it doesn’t feel any better the more I do it. And I suspect old age will open up lots more opportunities.

     Not too long ago, I was faced with getting my house reroofed. I hired the roofer who replaced the Doublewide’s roof. He’s a nice local guy who’s fast, walks around the yard afterwards with a magnet to get the nails, and likes to fish. Attention to detail. Before that could happen, I had to have the solar panel removed. The roofer doesn’t want anything to do with them things. This sent me down a bit of a rabbit hole. 

     The people who installed my solar panel no longer service hot water solar panels. They recommended a guy who once worked for them and was filling this niche. I told him what I needed and he said it’s going to be (Insert absurd amount or money here) to take it down and (insert an even larger absurd amount of money here) to put it back up…if it’s really working. He never came by—he never looked at the photo I sent of the situation. He knew I was stuck. 

      I asked a neighbor friend if he could recommend someone and he did. Communication with this guy was not good from the start but I was kinda…stuck—he obviously didn’t read my emails very carefully and when his plumber called he said he was coming to look at the hot water heater that needed to be replaced. I said I need a solar panel removed. We were both confused. After three visits which did not result in a removed solar panel, I was getting worried but by this late date, I was really stuck. On Saturday morning before the roofer arrived on Monday, I caught him backing out of the driveway. “I have bad news.” I went seriously ballistic. I said many bleep-able words at very high volume. He said it wasn’t his fault. This guy looked like a kicked puppy but frankly, that was not my problem—MY problem was getting the solar panel down by 7:30am on Monday. I spent the afternoon watching YouTube videos. I was very close to thinking I could just kick the solar panel down off the roof but did worry about the mess.

     I called the aforementioned neighbor and I explained that I had no intention of having the solar panel returned to the roof, I just wanted the panel down and the kid out of my life. And I whined…a lot. And the neighbor, bless his heart, helped get it done. 

     It hurts that I no longer have a solar panel—I feel like I am not being “consistent with my values,” but sheesh, that was ridiculous. (According to the YouTube videos, I had broken even on the panel and so I would be starting over again.) I have a panel and assorted hardware related to it if anyone wants them. 

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• There is an acronym in the yarn world (and perhaps other worlds): SABLE. Stash Accumulated Beyond Life Expectancy. I have that in yarn, fabric and books. Recently I had this moment of reflection when I looked around at all the horizontal surfaces covered in books and thought, realistically, which of these am I never going to get to? I only pulled six books, and have since mailed some away after reading them so the piles are shrinking. I have a whole stack that were going to go last time I did this and then I looked at reviews and they all got good ones so I held on. That doesn’t mean I am going to read them. They are in a grey area. The yarn and fabric need some attention…one day soon…

• I think Buster’s life would be complete if squirrels couldn’t climb trees.

• I went to a new dentist. It was such a positive experience. The people—front desk, hygienist, and dentist—were all friendly and positive in a not creepy way. They said many nice things and were encouraging and it all felt, dare I say, sincere. I came away feeling differently than other dentists I have been to in a long time. I had the World’s Best Dentist for years plus she is a friend. I got spoiled. 

     In the last several years, I have gone through three different dentists. I felt like I had people look at me with dollar signs in their eyes—the first discussion before I was treated was how to get deals and discounts. If I paid for an annual package, it would mean a huge savings. If I paid by check or cash, there was another discount. I felt like the purpose of getting my teeth cleaned was to give them an opportunity to find expensive damage. (“Look at that spot—looks worrisome, doesn’t it?”) The people were plenty friendly but the bottom line seemed more important. One said he hoped he never had to deal with my front teeth (they have crowns from before they were called crowns), and before that I had to sit down with the wife/office manager to basically prove that I could afford to pay my bills. This time, I wrote my check and walked out with my healthy gums (“that are a foundation for good solid dental work”) and felt like a million bucks. 

• What a joy it is to get the Medicare folder off the dining room table! And the tax file should follow it shortly. 

• I paid $3.48/gallon for gas today. I almost felt like I was cheating or something. (This was a while ago but it was a huge discount at the time. Recently the out of gas light came on when I was driving on back roads and I pulled in to a little station I knew would be even more expensive than the stations on the main roads. I just wanted enough to get me to those main roads. Not thinking about where we are in gas pricing, I gave them $10. As I pumped my 2.1 gallons, I laughed out loud. They must’ve thought I was pathetic.

• I came across an article about croutons. The theory is that anything crunchy is a crouton--including Cheetos and potato chips. I decided not to read the article because that headline was all the information I needed. (I did go back and read the article and she also included things like Japanese rice crackers, day old sushi rice, and a few other things. Enough said.)

• When I search for a word on my computer, I often get a lot of hits. I just searched for “dainty.” One hit this time—the sock pattern I was looking for. Apparently “dainty” is not a key word in my vocab.

• When I was in Iceland, I bought four postcards, four stamps and yarn, and the postcards and stamps cost more than the yarn!

 

Grrrrrrrdening

Here we go again—the growing season hath begun.

·       Yesterday I thought, I wonder what that is, and yanked. Today, leaves have sprouted and yup, poison ivy.

·       My dear friend Ray used to say you can’t stick a knitting needle in the dirt around here without hitting a rock, and it’s true. And I never know how big the rock is going to be. Sometimes it’s baseball size or like a silver dollar and sometimes it’s couch-size. I started working on what I guessed was a Roger-sized rock and I thought, I’m planting groundcover…Back it up buttercup, we do not need to go there. I didn’t. The rock is covered and the groundcover is in the ground. They will have to learn to co-exist.

·       I used raised bed dirt mixed in with the soil because I had it. Are the dirt police going to come around and say, “Missy, you have raised bed dirt ON THE GROUND. Here’s your citation.”? Yeah, probably not. 

 

              Hope is a discipline and we have to practice it every single day.  Mariame Kaba

Where’s Reverse? or ‘Round Iceland with a Car Full of Wool

     I turned 65 so I thought I should do something nice for myself. I went to Iceland…for a writer’s retreat and because I’ve never been there and I have heard such nice things. (One of my teachers warned against using the word “nice.”) The writer’s retreat was very good. The teachers were friendly and funny and generous. One of the women who founded it (the Iceland Writer’s Retreat) is the First Lady of Iceland so she has some pretty good connections, plus she was funny and friendly and generous. It was an all-around good experience and I think I will go back (Partly because I didn’t see puffins or eat at the tomato restaurant or see half the country and there will be more and different workshops). All of the classes were unique in style and subject and helpful…except the one by the woman who taught the wrong class, and that might have been helpful if I hadn’t spent half the class wondering what she was talking about and why.

     Turned out two people I knew were there —one had attended before (Lenore) and the other (Krista) had been encouraged to come, like me, by a third person (Cathy) who was supposed to be there but wasn’t. It was fun getting to know them better and having familiar faces in the crowd. A good time was had by all, though we missed Cathy mightily.

     With the workshops wrapping up mid-day on Sunday, I bid a fond farewell to my people and got a rental car. I had requested an automatic itty-bitty car. I got a larger manual car. I could not find reverse—a lot has changed in a manual car since my 1992 Toyota truck was built. It was nerve wracking—I couldn’t stop anywhere that I would have to back out of. Turns out there was a ring around the stick-shift that had to be pulled up to go in reverse. There was an R in the diagram on the top of the stick, but it did not mention lifting the ring. 

     And so, a new adventure began. I headed to what I call the Snagglepuss Peninsula, mostly because I had trouble pronouncing Snaefellsnes. I had a hard time pronouncing many words but I did practice as I toodled along. Thankfully English is spoken by most people and Google Maps works well. 

     I spent a day wandering around this lovely peninsula that is poking out into a ferocious body of water that is part of the North Atlantic. There is a National Park, complete with a large volcano, that are both called Snæfellsjökull (and no, I can’t pronounce that one). There are small towns that made me wonder why people lived there (fishing?). There were large churches in the middle of nowhere, and small pieces of art along the side of the road. It was delightful. 

     At one point, I stopped in the middle of the road to take a picture because there are no shoulders and very few cars and I had to hold on to the door so it didn’t blow away. Seriously. The whole country feels a bit hammered by the elements, in a good way. The land is doing its best to survive and thrive in harsh environs. When I was looking for rental cars, I read one can get wind insurance, and sand and ash insurance for damage from flying bits of either. No insurance covers windshields, tires or the underside of cars—all are too vulnerable. There is wildness there. 

     The morning I was leaving Stykkisholmur (referred to as Stykkish or Stykk), I woke up to an unexpected snowfall. I had a mountain pass to cross on my way back to Reykjavik (all roads seemed to go there). I was…concerned. The innkeeper said, “It will be bad but it will be brief.” Then she pulled out the map and showed me where it would be bad which, oddly, didn’t include the pass. It was a little daunting but soon after leaving town, I passed a snowplow and it had obviously been over the mountain. 

      In Reykjavik, I picked up Lenore who needed a ride to the Blue Lagoon, and a roommate for her stay there and a ride to the airport. I could do and be all of those things. It was quite a luxurious place surrounded by the famous milky blue thermal pools. We had quite the pampering and relaxing time. I don’t think I need to do it again, but there’s a new check on the Bucket List.

     After dropping Lenore, I headed east towards the Golden Circle, which includes the Greatest Hits of Iceland and while gorgeous and remarkable, the crowds, even in early May in a country that considers its “Season” to be June July and August, were noticeably larger than over on Snagglepuss. 

     The vistas are vast. When the country isn’t mountainous, it’s flat as a pancake and there are no trees so the views go on for days. The beaches are volcanic black sand, and the coastline is well worn. And by the way, the food is surprisingly fresh and delicious in even the most far-flung town. I didn’t eat anything terribly exotic (another reason to return), but the fish was fabulous…everywhere. It is also crazy expensive—everything is. Lenore suggested I pretend it is Monopoly money and deal with it when I get home. Advice taken.

     One of my favorite stops was two+ hours beyond my accommodations (which reminded me of The Shining on first glance but wound up being a charming stay). I was driving along the coast up against the cliffs, surprised by waterfalls coming out of every crack, followed by wiggly curvy steep turns and twists then long runs of flat, with views of the ocean and the contorted rock formations formed by the water and then boom! Icebergs! I knew it was coming –that’s why I was there—but it was such a pleasant surprise. The icebergs are created when the glacier hits the water. They bob around in what turns out to be the deepest lake in Iceland connected to the shortest river (1/4 mile or less?) that takes the icebergs to the sea. Sometimes it’s fast, sometimes the iceberg gets caught in an eddy and hangs around. Sometimes they hang around long enough to get dirty and melt a little. It’s always changing and captivating.

     I’m coming to the end of the page so I am going to have to wrap things up—I’ve already gone way over my usual allotment. I saw lovely waterfalls and snowy peaks and the place where the European and American plates come together! All good and worth another look. 

     My last night, I was told that from the hotel, it was a straight shot into Reykjavik where I had to go to get a Covid test…over a mountain. Well, it had been snowing and it was cold…but I don’t have a lot of room left to tell you that story. I made it, even had time for a visit to the world’s only Phallological Museum but that will have to wait for another PNewS.

 

P.S. Bills are paid and the suitcase is stowed. Now all I have to do is wait for the speeding tickets to come in. Speed limit is 55mph and I am known to push it a little and one thing I was told was “Never Speed.” To be continued

 

“The whole system of our lives works because we are not all nuts on the same day.” Anne Lamott

PNewL PNewS Turns 30!

                                 PNewL PNewS

Volume 30 Issue 1                     “All the pnews that phits.”                                             March 2022                                                                                  

 

I went Away and It was Good

     It is early at the Charles de Gaulle airport. I have already had a mixed day. My fear of leaving my fifth-floor walk-up hotel room with a bag that weighs (I found out at the airport) 15.6 kilos (a little over 34 lbs…only gained 2 lbs on the trip. Nice work!) worked out fine—the nice night watchman helped. I got to the airport 3½ hours early which is too much (not as much as they recommend) but gave me plenty of wiggle room. I went to Delta, they said I needed to go to Air France. I tried to print my boarding pass and it said there was a problem and I would need to speak to an agent. There was one agent helping 10 people while seven other agent-y looking people stood around gabbing. The one agent did not want to deal with the four of us who did not speak French. Breathe… Turns out there was no problem—the new agent printed everything out and I was on my way. There were still several hoops to jump through and it got to the point where I walked up to, I’m sure, a very nice person, and said what do YOU want? I don’t know that she heard the emphasis with the mask but…as I said, it had gotten to that point. Passport, boarding pass, attestation form, vaccination card, passe sanitaire, I had em all plus some other stuff just to confuse my sleep deprived brain. At one point, a sign said “To save time, have the results of your PCR test available.” Um, I did not have a PCR test, I had an antigen test and apparently the link to the Lab had expired. (I saved it to my computer and sent it to myself via email but I forgot that (see sleep deprived brain reference above.)) I had a brief moment of panic. Now I am here, in the boarding area. I have had coffee and my last croissant for a while, and I still have two hours to go. (FYI: Our flight was pretty late but I still managed to make my connection home and all in all, it was an uneventful trip with an empty seat next to me on the long haul.)

     I should have started differently but the above is what’s on my mind. First, I should have said: I went away and it was all excellently good fun. Then: I used my passport! For the first time in exactly two years! And it felt good and I learned a lot about travel at 64 ¾ with a two-year hiatus that was humbling. I had a lovely time with Cousin Bill and Friend Denis. We met in Paris where Denis lives and drove to southern Portugal where we were exactly two years ago. En route, Denis had found a magical selection of accommodations—in the first one, all the rooms had different themes—mine was Alice in Wonderland! In the second we were in an old stone mansion turned into a spa. On the way back, we stayed in ruins that a very friendly fellow had built up into a charming apartment. All surprisingly different and comfy cozy. Yay team!

     In Portugal, we spent a week at a lovely perfect-for-us house, and wandered around the countryside. We ate good food, walked around a lot, went on a boat to look at the caves along the coast (“When in doubt, get on a boat” is my motto though there was no doubt about it—this was a perfect way to spend a sunny bunch of hours in Portugal), bought fluffy shoes (slippers, actually), and generally had a nice relaxing time.

      But wait! There’s more! We drove back via Salamanca where the whole city seemed huge and gorgeous and unexpected, Bilbao (for the Guggenheim Museum—Amazing! Wonderful! OMG!...and that’s before we went in the building!) and San Sebastian (for dinner and to see the Atlantic from the northern coast of Spain) and then to Paris for a week where I walked so much my legs still hurt (27,000+ steps one day, between 15,000-20,000 on most of the others) and we ate and went to Disneyland Paris and looked at where Denis wants to move and saw a light show in the Jardin des Plantes (straight to the point name), and went to the Thierry Mugler exhibit (a-MAZE-ing—thanks again Katy) two days after he died. There was plenty of other stuff—traveling with Bill and Denis was a delight, which I haven’t really mentioned enough—but that’s probably enough for now.

 

A Little of This, a Little of That

& Other Observations

• I do not have the upper arm strength to pack as heavy as I do. I need to work on that or be prepared to accommodate it. 

• I went down a bit of a rabbit hole tonight, wandering hither and yon because Joe is going to Norway and I have kroner (plural of krone—who knew?). I went in search of the kroner—I have a bunch of bowls of international currency and went through them but the kroner were not there. (I do have a good collection of pesos and Canadian currency and then small bits of South African rand and one Namibian coin, Greek coins and notes, plus some Thai baht—I knew for so long how much they were worth because they were very stable and then they weren’t--and a bunch of stuff that might be worthless (Laotian, I presume), and a bunch of angel coins I get in the mail regularly that someone thinks might inspire me to donate—I usually put them in with a tip—maybe it will bring someone luck.)    

     Finally, I found the kroner—along with a mouse nest that I think has been long dormant. And because of all this cracking open of “Maybe I will go somewhere with a passport again,” I started diving into travel photos. I have the bug. I need to… want to…please…but am trying to be patient. I went through some books and almost moaned at “Oh the Places I have Been.” I am so lucky. I have been many places and seen many things and the thought of my passport expiring without another stamp or sticker…sigh…it makes me feel mortal. Things make me feel mortal these days—friend’s illnesses, family member’s vulnerabilities, forsythia in December. It feels so selfish to want to see another penguin or flamingo in its natural habitat—to hang out with Bill and Denis in Europe next month and again next year. I need to do my part to help society recover from the pandemic and also to cut down on my contribution to global warming by flying less, and yet, I whine. [As I approach the final edit of this—yes, I do edit—I thought perhaps I should clean up this bullet point and maybe the whole dang PNewS, but it represents to me the way my pinball brain wanders and how things get all mushed together “in these times,” so if you got this far, congratulations.]

• If you are planning to travel and you are thinking of getting a new cell phone soon—do it before you go. Travel is now cell phone based. My phone is old. I wondered more than once if the battery would die before I showed my ticket or my proof of vaccination. 

• One of the surprising things about traveling in January is how obnoxious it is trying to keep a purse strap on the shoulder of a down jacket. The slippery fabric gave the strap nothing to grab on to. [I never said the PNewS was earth shattering epiphanies, did I?]

• Many years ago, I smoked cigarettes only when I traveled. It gave me something to do when I paused, and in Asia, everyone smoked. More recently, I pull out my knitting. Same purpose, much healthier.

• Recently I have been in some interesting conversations based on some kinda random questions. You are welcome to borrow any of these. How old is your mattress? Do you remember the names of your elementary school teacher’s names? (Prove it.) What cars did your parents drive? And this one isn’t really a question but I have wound up in this discussion a couple times and I learn something—it’s about plans for end of life or more accurately what you want done with your body. This doesn’t have to be grim because you think you are going to live forever or because it will happen to all of us and thinking this out is a good thing.

• Don’t throw a baking potato in with some little red potatoes to boil into mashed potatoes. It DOES NOT WORK or help or make anything better. So there. Buy the freaking 5 pound bag of red potatoes and use three and give the rest to the food pantry (since you think you are going out of town).

• I have not missed having children but I do miss having grandchildren. They are precious and I am ready to appreciate them.

• I have taken the Olympics to heart--in a way I don't think anyone meant for me to. I was walking the dogs and was standing at the top of a rise above the driveway below and I thought, all those people can do these huge jumps. I can do it too! and So I did...and boom. I can't do it too! I'm old and not in any shape to be jumping anywhere. (I DID keep Buster's leash in my hand. He thought it was an opportunity to escape.) I didn't hit my head or break anything but I skinned my knee and I think I hit everything else so am looking forward to the results in the morning. [Ed. Note: Everything felt a bit tweaked..and sore…briefly.] I think the big mistake was thinking I could land it on one foot. Lesson learned, I hope.

• All of the erasers in my house are petrified, as in hard as rocks. I remember that was true in my parent’s house. Is it because we are all old—me and the erasers?

• Signing up for Medicare and upgrading phone software at the same time is enough to make me feel like my brain will explode at any minute.

• I took a hand lettering class (a simple version of calligraphy) on Zoom which I found very entertaining. I needed a pencil --my house is littered with mechanical pencils. I could not find one in advance of the class. Typical.

• Last week, the day of the most recent meeting of the Peaceful Exit (Pexit) class about end-of-life issues, I wasn't feeling so hot and then progressively felt worse and worse. I cancelled afternoon plans and went to lie down, and all of a sudden i thought: What if this is an end-of-life thing—what if I am dying?? There are so many things I haven't written down that are part of my Pexit strategy! No one will know what people have agreed to and conversations I've had that need to be documented so I went to the table, lay my aching head on the cool surface and started making bullet points that might be enough for someone to decipher…Who needs a van--Oh! Kay asked if I wanted to sell mine--give it to her. Bonnie the dogsitter said she’d take the dogs—write it down! Here I was wondering if whatever it was that was afflicting me might be the end and I'm writing Pexit notes. It felt like the right thing to do. Gini says these sudden moments of ill health and wondering will increase and I will get used to them. This one was very productive!

• We had a mask-less knitting group today. We voted that we all hoped this was a safe thing to do and were ready. I had never seen these people's lower faces before. It was familiar and yet surprising putting eyes together with mouths.

• It took me longer to sign up for a Temperament Assessment appointment for puppy daycare for Buster than it did to make an appointment with a new dentist for me.

• I used to work with a woman who called herself an Indoor Enthusiast, which I loved. As much as I don’t want to say it, I am too sort of. I like being outside but generally with a purpose—walking the dogs, mowing the lawn, visiting with friends. The unfortunate thing is that most of the things I am passionate about—crafty stuff, for instance—are indoor activities.

• Well, we made it. Thirty years of the PNewL PNewS. I had planned to make t-shirts and have a collection self-published by now, but I haven’t. I could push it back to the 40^th…or…well, there’s a whole year to figure it out. Thanks for coming along.

PNewL PNewS Volume 29 Issue 4

 PNewL PNewS

  Volume 29 Issue 4                    “All the pnews that phits.”              December 2021

PNewL PNewS 29.3

PNewL PNewS

  Volume 29 Issue 3                    “All the pnews that phits.”              September 2021

Our New Normal

     I was walking with Roger in July when neighbor Beth stopped to chat. Somehow it came up that I was maybe possibly kinda thinking about maybe possibly getting a dog…a “transition” dog. The next thing I knew, I was meeting Roscoe, a busy little CRD, as my vet called him—a Carolina Red Dog. He was found by the newspaper delivery person. She wants to be an “Ambassador” for the Humane Society and I guess is practicing. She found this little dude on the road, tried to find an owner, got him fixed and all the bells and whistles of being a legal dog (shots, chip) for free, and heard I was looking. They showed up on my front porch at 8 the next morning. We had a good meet and decided to try a sleepover. I said I was going out of town so maybe it would be better to do it before so she wouldn’t be waiting around wondering if we were a match. I picked July 4th (he’s not bothered by fireworks, thankfully). That morning she showed up with him before 7:30, apologizing that she hadn’t let me know when she was coming. I was ready. I had figured out her MO. 

     The sleepover went fine. Roger and the new guy did their social distancing. They kept an eye on each other but didn’t interact. I decided to go for it. I changed his name—Roscoe didn’t work for me. Buster Brown came to mind and stuck. 

     Welcoming a new member into any household is an adjustment. Some for better and some for worse. Adjusting to Buster, has its ups and downs. He’s great fun and a total pain. He has a youthful enthusiasm we’ve been lacking. Sometimes I forget the part about how I now have two faces looking at me as if every moment not spent on them is a disappointment. Now I’m reminded…regularly… I have two beings counting on me. It can add up, but the upside far outweighs the downside. Well except for the running away part. Oh and the weird shrieking bark.

     When I picked up Roger and Buster from puppy camp, Bonnie was very complimentary of both dogs and their relationship. She said they needed to find each other. I liked that—they do seem to like each other…even the rough and tumble rough-house before breakfast which includes a lot of biting. She also said she’d had other campers that look like Buster and she thinks he’s a “puggle” — a designer dog??? I went home and googled it and yup, I’m afraid he is a puggle. And then there were the characteristics: a weird bark, a desire to run. And then the physical issues: breathing issues from the smooshed nose. His is not too smooshed but he can be a loud breather. Okay that’s enough. He is what he is. He ran last night and he came home so that was good to know—he knows where Home is.

     Prepare for more tales of the Adventures of the Boys.

80-20

When I was in Montana in May, I got to listen to a tele-health appointment with one of Martha’s healthcare team. When she asked if she needed to eat “clean” forever. He laughed and said, Think 80-20. That is 80% clean, 20% …party! Okay he didn’t say that last part, but he did say she could do what she wanted. 

    Recently, there was a posting on a Covid related FB page that was set up by a local to support people during this crazy time. It has been good and kinda sweet but sometimes veers into us vs them between maskers and anti-maskers and vaxxers and anti-vaxxers, and the moderator asked that we think 80-20 when posting: 80% positive and 20% rant. 

     Is this 80-20 a thing? I like it. I’m thinking I will adopt it for my mantra—I aspire to 80% busy to 20% sloth. 80% good behavior, 20% not. 80% angel, 20% devil. (I ASPIRE…) We’ll see how it goes. I’ll let you know…if I remember…

In the New Times of the ’Rona & Other Miscellaneous Observations 

• I often wish I had my camera or phone to take a picture that I know will not be there to take if I move. I know I should enjoy the image and not bother with documenting it, but, you know…

• When people put a call out for volunteers, I am often first in line …and sometimes I regret it. I don’t know why I keep doing it—I need to be more discerning. Recently, I went to an event to help set up the room and stayed 34 minutes. I moved chairs around and people rearranged them behind me. I told the woman who asked for volunteers I thought they had enough people helping and I was going to go. She nodded and looked kinda apologetic.
• In August, I spent 10+ days with some of my nearest and dearest in the Bay Area. It was really good. It had been that amount of time during which we all haven’t seen our people and it felt so good to see them again. California is in a world of hurt with drought and fires and that was obvious from before I landed. The air was yellow. I could barely see the Dumbarton bridge over the bay. It was bad. There were some clear days but probably more hazy ones. It’s heartbreaking. It’s unhealthy. It’s the future.

        We got to have our 40th Angel Island Picnic—but no camping this year. (Reservations were cancelled for camping because of Covid and then they were opened up again but we didn’t know about it until we were on the ferry. It was a cool foggy day and I was not sorry to be heading back to warm and dry that evening.) I visited with several people, missed a few. Guess I’ll have to go back! And got some up close and personal time with the Pacific Ocean and San Francisco Bay. And went to a lovely wedding reception on a farm in western Sonoma County. Sweet! Despite this being an overused and annoying (to me) expression, it was, indeed, all good.

• Pardon me if this is the 100th time I have said this but Think Long and Hard and Then Think Again before you hit Reply All, please.

• I had a great couple days this summer helping unpack the craft supplies of a crafter’s estate for a sale at Local Cloth. It made my collection of supplies pale in comparison. Seriously a LOT of stuff. I kept saying, one day someone is going to be asking these same questions about my stuff (what was she thinking? What do you suppose she used this for? SO many unfinished projects!). The sale went well, sold a lot, donated a lot to libraries, school art programs and UNCA theater department. Made some money for the family of the crafter and for the organization and a lot of stuff was passed on to new crafters. It was surprisingly satisfying and productive.

• I pulled up to the ATM closest to home and there was a receipt hanging out so I took it to throw it away. I always look at them out of curiosity. Usually there are balances of $100 or sometimes less, withdrawing $20. I feel for those people. What must that be like? I confess it’s been a very long time since I was playing it that close to the edge…probably before ATMs. (As I recall, I ate a lot of zucchini through those times…a lot…) I ponder what that person’s life is like. How scary is it? Does one get used to it? This time, the balance was $111,844.79. S/he withdrew $100. I pictured someone who had a loan come in and the person wanted to make sure it had hit their account and as long as they were there, why not enjoy it? Or maybe it’s a person who likes to be super-duper liquid?!? More recently, there was one hanging out of the ATM in North Asheville and the balance was $6400+ and that made sense in North Asheville. 
• When I skip a mow cycle, the cut grass looks even better than when I am mowing as I “should.” Because it rained 6.25” (Hurricane Fred) in 24 hours, and I wasn’t paying attention enough to mow before the deluge and I was going out of town for almost two weeks, the grass got to grow for about a month. Cut yesterday, it looks great—practically like a golf course! (Please no comments about how I shouldn’t even have grass—I know that but have no idea what to do with all that wide open space, it’s mostly weeds and I have never put poison on it. And am okay if you don’t offer suggestions…)
• On the World Tour, I came to know that one of the weak links in travel is zippers. You blow out a zipper and there is Stuff that Has to be Done. On my recent trip to the Bay Area, I learned that when I don’t zip things up, I lose things.
• In May, someone used my credit card to charge around $2500 at Amazon. Several items were $3.75 which I know can add up but it takes A LOT of them. There were larger charges too—and some in between. My credit card company was very helpful and friendly in setting up a fraud claim and slowly picking away at it. By my August bill, I had received a letter saying that my case was closed, but on my spreadsheet (which, by the way, no one seems to want to see), I was still owed $330+ in charges and around $70 in interest charges. I had a very nice conversation with a man for whom English was not his first language and he is working on the problem and feels confident in 24 to 48 hours he would have all my money back. I wish I had his confidence. (Nothing so far. Sigh.)
• In July, I made another trip to Montana to join with a small crew to celebrate nephew Bowen and the lovely Hayley’s wedding on Flathead Lake. It was a very different kind of visit than others I have had there and equally fun. I got to be helpful—driving up a vehicle filled to the brim with a ton of flowers and driving back a ton of recycling and party related stuff. The weekend was lovely and sweet and touching and full of plenty of stories that make weddings so memorable. For me it was a little different because I was in the midst of my second successful attempt at the Whole 30 diet (basically meat, veg, with a little bit of fruit (period).) No champagne, no wedding cake. No cheese trays. No sandwiches. It was actually fine, just different. 

         Afterward, I put together my pictures for the happy couple and Martha and Mike. I figured the “real” pictures would take a while and it would be fun for them to have insta-albums. When I edited them down, I found there were few people in them—all my pics were of dogs and flowers and food. That’s the important stuff right?

“Always be on the look out for the presence of wonder.” EB White

“If we can uproot the tree of hate, what would the landscape really look like?” LaTosha Brown

  

PNewL PNewS 29.2 -- Adventures in Cooking

 PNewL PNewS

Volume 29 Issue 2                           “All the pnews that phits.”                                 June 2021

Adventures in Cooking

     One of the many reasons I like traveling is about the food. Sometimes it is exotic and something I have never had before. Sometimes it’s Cold Soba Noodle Salad with Veggies at my sister’s house (and then again at the lake—a recipe so nice, we had it twice). It’s all about getting out of the rut, or into a new one.

     So in addition to putting my eyes on my recovering sister, which I didn’t realize I needed to do so badly and reassuring myself she was the strong funny person I know and love, we got to spend some time in the kitchen together cooking and eating when I visited last month. (It takes some calories to recover from cancer treatment, so says her handsome funny doctor—I was there for a tele-health appointment. As a witness to Martha’s healthy appetite, I would agree.) She has some enviable knife skills I have never had the patience to master. You wanna fine mince? She’s your gal. 

     From that visit, I came home with a few new recipes and a new cookbook to purchase, and I have jump started my cooking which had gotten a bit tired after all of the months of home alone eating my food. I have picked up some other new recipes during the pandemic—from David on Facebook (Vietnamese creamy noodles), and from Splendid Table, and from Creative Mornings Field Trips (Gyoza! Gnocchi! weirdass Japanese soufflé street food! there were others I can’t think of at this time!), but I am always happy to find something fairly simple and tasty and which does not make so much that I have to eat it for days in a row.

     When I went around the world, now 26 years ago (!), the whole idea came to me as an excuse to take a cooking class at the Oriental Hotel in Bangkok that I had read about in Gourmet Magazine. It seemed easier to take a year off and bang out the Grand Tour of Europe I hadn’t done in my youth and make my way to Thailand than leave for shorter bursts and do separate trips. Ah the workings of my mind. Well, it worked out well, and by the time I got to Bangkok, I realized I could learn easily and more cheaply from chefs at food stalls in narrow streets or in gas station parking lots. (I did visit the Cooking School at the Oriental Hotel but was escorted through the lobby as apparently I didn’t look like their usual class of guest. And I did take a cooking class at the Cordon Bleu and got in trouble for talking in class, but that’s another story.)

     I am glad I like to cook, am willing to experiment…and fail sometimes. I have always been curious when people say they don’t cook, especially when it is someone who raised children. How did that work? What happened at mealtime in those homes?

     Now, several weeks later, the nurse practitioner suggested I needed to do a better job of managing what I eat. What could she do to help? I know what I am supposed to do, I say…don’t we all? Make better choices. Specifically, make choices and don’t eat mindlessly which is so much easier and…well…fun. So I pulled out the right cookbooks and made grocery lists and reminded myself that I can like to cook like this. It’ll be fine. I can do this. And then I drove to the store listening to an audiobook that seemed to mention in every other sentence some sort of food that is no longer on my list. It’s a new Adventure in Cooking and I think I may need a bit of an attitude adjustment.

In the Time of the ’Rona & Other Observations Part VI &

Miscellaneous Observations

I would love to think this would be a wrap up of the pandemic editions of the PNewS but I can’t go there quite yet. I am very confused by what is “right” now—masks, no masks, how many people in a group is too many. I walk inside places tentatively and ask what the protocol is, or find myself gasping when I forget to ask. Susan thinks it is a good thing that we are off balance, that it provides us an opportunity to experience the world as others often do. 

My social skills which weren’t great are worse now. My heart literally aches when I leave Roger the dog—we have spent so much time together. Perhaps it will get easier, perhaps some day I will forget. We continue to live in interesting times.

•  In my next life, I hope they have figured out batteries better. I think it’s a wasteful underdeveloped technology.

• Since I last sewed clothes many years ago, things have changed a bit. People are publishing patterns online now and get this: I get to pay for the pattern, download it and then have to print them at home or take them to a “copy shop” that may or may not understand how to print them. So if I print them at home, imagine covering your body with 8.5x11 paper, front and back, and then tape the edges together…this is my new nightmare. When I stopped making clothes, it was because places like Marshall and Ross were selling clothes for a fraction of what I was spending on patterns and fabric and thread and interfacing and I could find out instantly that I looked like a whale in the color or shape rather than after spending the money and several hours of labor. (I was not as concerned about sweatshops as I should have been.) I am not sure why I am going back to the old ways. I will let you know if it is anywhere near a sane decision. So far I have bought two pieces of fabric online which are really lovely though not at all what I expected. And I have bought two patterns, one which I finally sucked it up and printed, and it is 30 pages long. Wish me luck.
• I am making a knitted temperature wrap/shawl/throw thing with one row corresponding to the high temperature of each day. I bought the yarn online. The colors have all melted into each other as the colors online are not quite as they appear in real life—it’s not all bad, it’s soft and will be nice on a cold day at the end of the year plus I’m going to wind up doing my first “steek” where I cut into live stitches and the whole thing will hopefully not unravel. Today, I received a skein of yellow that is HIDEOUS, worse than the one I was running out of. It makes “mustard” look cheerful. Granted yellow is a tough color for me, but this is dull and sad and makes the 70s, my favorite temperature that it corresponds to in the knitted thing, sad and dull. I took a picture of the yarn to send to the company I bought it from to say, how do you get away with selling these lies, and, lo and behold, on my phone camera, the color looks just like it does online. Lesson learned.
• Last month, I "went" to the NYC Creative Mornings meeting on the theme “Procrastinate” and it was the most fun thing—the most perfect thing to do on a Friday morning. The speaker, Sam Furness presented his “Playing House” (https://samfurness.onfabrik.com/portfolio/playing-house-2) adventure. He had us doing little scavenger hunts in our houses—finding or making hats (this is a creative group of people so the hats were pretty entertaining), putting on the brightest colored clothing we own, finding a product with a label (think Tomato Soup can) and then we showed everyone what we'd found, all 262 of us from all over the world. Then we teleported to Studio 54 and Andy Warhol's studio and the Brooklyn Bridge among other places in NYC. We were all in. This is how he has entertained himself—and others—during the pandemic. I had a big grin on my face for the rest of the day. 
• I took Roger camping in the Smokies…just overnight. I felt like I was running away from home. It was so refreshing.
• There was a lot of bear activity the other night—broken fence, destroyed bird feeders, clipped bird feeder wire, broken branch, and I missed several hours of sleep. The bears have moved on to the neighbor’s house. I’m okay with that.
• I went to fill up my mower's gas can and couldn't get the bleeping can open so had to ask the nice young man at the next pump to help and he agreed the design was just plain bad, but took pity on the old lady anyway. Really, I don't feel that old but sometimes I do, like today with the gas can. I think I will cut the safety flap off. I may be old, but I still have opposable thumbs and tools!
• At Take out Fridays, I asked the assembled folks, do you like my pants? and they said um okay huh or something, wondering where this was going. I said, I’m just asking because I don’t remember ever seeing these pants before—they were in my drawer but I don’t remember buying them. I’m officially starting to lose my mind.
• A while back, I volunteered at a vaccination clinic at UNCA. When I got home, I could barely walk. I was the “Runner,” cleaning chairs, picking up clipboards and pens at check-out, cleaning them and delivering them to check-in. For 4.5 hours, I was constantly on the move, 8000 steps on linoleum. I have to say it felt good to be in the world, providing a service people appreciated, but it kinda hurt.
• I have come to realize my problem (one of them) is that I am almost incapable of putting things away. There are times when I find my jacket on the floor since I couldn’t seem to hang it on the back of a chair. Living alone, this is not such a bad thing; living through a pandemic, it reallllly doesn’t matter. But the world is starting to open again and there have been the occasions when someone came into my house (to water plants, or for an emergency bathroom stop), and I thought OMG this looks very bad.

“The sun loved the earth too much to burn it up.” The Removed by Brandon Hobson

Haiku for Summer

Temps are heating up

Fruit is ripe, market’s bursting

Thank god for the dog