Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

Meg and I went to see Wicked last night, and it did not disappoint. I've read a lot of opinions about the film lately, some of the writers noting that the plot is, essentially, about a smart young woman who wants social justice, and what happens to her when she defies authority and will not go along with the marginalization and oppression of the intelligent and different. Yes, that is exactly it: she sees that the authoritarian structure that is "supposed" to be for the citizens' "own good" is an oppressive and exploitive regime. Education, specifically, is curtailed. The scene when the legal authorities burst into a classroom and drag off the professor to put him in a cage hit home with me.  The music was delightful, there were very funny parts, some touching ones, and, as I just mentioned, scenes that prompt outrage (well, unless you are on the side of authoritarianism). Since this is a "part one" type of film, we'll have to wait a while for...

I used to get excited about getting up in the wee hours and slipping (sometimes literally) through the darkness to go "get the deals" on Black Friday. Or I'd set myself up and do a pile of cyber-shopping, happy to know that I'd gotten things for less money, happy ho ho and all that. Not today. I'm over it. I've scaled back my gift-giving; let's be honest, the only person who really needs a bunch of stuff is Holly, and mostly, it's because she's growing like crazy and needs some clothes. I like the four (I make it five) gift rule that says something like "something they want, something they need, something to wear, and something to read." I add in "something to do" -- we all love a fun project, even if it's a puzzle. And Holly dearly loves art materials and puzzles. We could make it a rule of six, actually, adding in something to eat. I used to love getting a few chocolates or a candy cane in my stocking. Not so much the Braz...

"How delicious," said Maggie. "How delightful," said Grandmother. "How about another piece?"  That last statement, one filled with appreciation for the pumpkin pie with whipped cream, was said by Mr. Whiskers, otherwise known as Uriah Peabody, the sometimes-gruff sea captain in Cranberry Thanksgiving by Wendy and Harry Devlin. The story is set on a cranberry bog in New England, and it's Thanksgiving Day. Grandmother and Maggie live alone, and for the holiday, they each choose a guest to share their meal, one who is also alone or poor. Grandmother invites a polished gentleman whom she met and who was staying at the hotel. Mr. Whiskers is Maggie's special friend, one of whom Grandmother firmly disapproves. "Too many whiskers and not enough soap!" she says. Mr. Whiskers has not had a Thanksgiving meal in twenty years, and he arrives all scrubbed up and even has a tie on! Well, as the story unfolds, it turns out that Mr. Whiskers is the true...

I used to get all wound up about Thanksgiving preparations. Not this year. Nope. The turkey has been thawing slowly in the fridge. The pies I bought from the school fundraiser are all set. I have what I need to put out a really nice feast. Maybe it's because there's just five of us to plan for, but I am not rattled. Today, I will pop out to the grocery to get some more fruit and a couple of other quick items, but then I'll be back home, warm and cozy, to bake cranberry eggnog muffins. And I have a new recipe for pumpkin pie bars I want to try. I'll make the meat dressing for the turkey as well; that takes a little more prep, but it's worth it. It's a recipe that my maternal grandmother used to make, as did my mother. I've tweaked it over the years, as I do not use the giblets. I don't feel the need to do so; they are rubbery and weird when boiled, and not worth the effort. That said, I'll get that molten mass of meat and crackers and a couple of boxe...

The predicted band of ice and rain has been delayed-- instead of occurring during "bus times," it is probably coming while we are at school-- and I hope that it pushes off in time for us to leave safely. That said, I'm going in early today to avoid the ice. I hate winter driving, but especially ice. You can move snow, but ice is insidious. I'm glad I got my winter tires on yesterday, but they are no help on ice. I am not one bit thrilled, to say the least. G has to travel to work mid-day today, but that doesn't make it a whole lot better-- the Notch is notorious. And the rain that will follow the ice here in town will likely still be ice there. Ugh. The worry is real. Meg is already at work, and will be until tonight, so she will likely miss all the messy driving. That's a help.  Y'know, one thing that was good about remote learning was not having to drive in yucky weather. Alas, that is not an option, and likely never will be again, given the who and what...

Yesterday was a nice break in the pattern of work-work-work. Church was good, and G and I took Holly to the (smaller) Christmas Loft in North Woodstock. I was a little disappointed because the one in North Conway has the lovely Christmas village, but Holly was enchanted by all of the pretty sparkly things, the talking ornaments, and especially the Halloween diorama. At any rate, the weather behaved, we had a nice little outing, and she got to pick a fun ornament of her very own. She fell asleep in the car on the way home almost immediately, and when we got back, G carried her in and she continued to snooze for about an hour. She was a truly wonderful child to spend the day with.  Today, though, we are back to the usual hurry and scurry of daily life. I'll dash off to the garage today to get the winter tires on and the oil changed in the car. G has to drop off the new car at the dealership to get the undercoating done (that was part of the package deal). When I get back, we'll h...

Sometimes it's just plain hard to get up and get moving on a Sunday morning. I'm a regular church-goer, but when it's dark and cold, I long to just stay in bed. Usually, I don't-- though my inner child is kicking and holding her breath. And it's not "Catholic guilt" that gets me up and going, though that is a motivator for other things sometimes. It's the longing for quiet.  My favorite part of going to church is the time just before, when the church is half-lit, there's a few folks around, but mostly, it's quiet. I can let my brain range through the past week, think about the present needs and troubles, give thanks for the blessings I've been given and that have been bestowed on my family. When the music starts, and we all stand to sing the entrance song, I have to focus. But before that, it's just me, my thoughts, and breathing in and out. God is there, because he is everywhere. One could argue that I could do this all at home, snug i...

Rainy Saturday-- cold and dark. Today would be a lovely day to stay home, bake, and read. Alas... it's not to be.  That said, it should be a fun day. Lisbon is hosting the quiz bowl tournament, so I don't have to travel all that far, and I don't mind-- it's a good time, and the kids enjoy it.  But still, when did I become such a house-mouse? The world outside my door is a chaotic tumble quite often, but I used to be able to enjoy going places. I suppose I still would-- we've gotten woefully out of practice. Well before the pandemic circumscribed our movements, we didn't do much. G was always working, and when not working, was worried about work. Meg and I used to go and do things, but once she went to college, she was not always available. Or she was working. Life got out of balance, and we are still reeling from too many major life shifts as a family. It's hard to envision just going somewhere and enjoying ourselves sometimes.  That said, G and I have done ...

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS:  What to Keep   by Carlene M. Gadapee On SALE :     https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/what-to-keep-by-carlene-m-gadapee/   What to Keep  is a collection of keen #observations: choices made, minor regrets, small successes, and questions asked. There aren’t always answers to the questions, but the #poems in this collection explore the particular things and #experiences that lead us to them. Readers are invited into the poet-speaker’s musings about #childhood, of #family, of #companionship, and of #loss. We follow the speaker as she walks through time: capturing minnows, high school crushes and college mistakes, #marriage, the deaths of parents, and finally, a note of hope for the future, whatever it may have in store. In the end, “what to keep” becomes what remains, what is precious, and what forms the foundation of a #life filled with joy, sorrow, and finally, of contentment.   A poet-teacher both by vocation...

Best news so far today (and it's not yet 6:30): I slept. No crazy dreams. I even went straight through from 10:30 til 4, then again til 5:30. Amazing. And I woke to wind and gusty rain rattling down, 39 degrees. It is November and it is sure acting like it. This is the sort of day I really, really wish I could just stay home, drink coffee, read, and bake. Alas, it's Friday, I have work to go to, and thus, I will trudge out into the wet in a short while. We need the rain, it's true-- but ugh. I think I'm part cat, and I dislike going out in it, at least when it's windy and cold.  Tomorrow morning, my school is hosting a regional quiz bowl tournament, so I will have to get up and get moving early. Not too early-- but there will be no lounging around in jammies for me. I'll be done there about lunchtime, but then grocery-getting and other assorted stuff awaits. G is working late tomorrow, too, so that, at least, gives me a stretch of uninterrupted time to get thing...

My brain decided to roll some horrible dreams out last night: attempted murder by my husband which landed him in prison, then a complete chaos in my classroom involving elementary students, helping a colleague with a task that was landed on us, and then a large German shepherd peeing on the carpet. My alarm went off at 5:30, and I was, frankly, grateful. And I have a huge stress headache. Gah. I've long been prone to stress dreams, but this was a terrible double feature. I'm waiting for daylight, and hoping the world is ticking along as well as it can.  The news cycle is grim, and I suspect my dreams are a manifestation of existential dread. Both dreams had me trying to keep some sort of sane order in incredibly insane situations that directly affected my life. At any rate, I have coffee, and it's not a stressful day at work (at least I hope not), and I'm not babysitting today... so if I need to shut the curtains and hide when I get home, I can.  The good stuff: I have ...

Focus on the good things. Our PALS (parent/teacher assoc.) group has funded tee shirt for the academic team! I have hot coffee. It's not raining or snowing. I slept a bit better. I have hot oatmeal for breakfast. A dear college friend sent me a lovely set of recordings from the Royal Shakespeare Company of all of the great speeches from the plays.  See? There are good things and good people. I'm glad to know them.  Keeping my blinders on (omg Oz? Really?), C

Rainy November. At least, a little rain. The northeast has been a bit dry of late; figures, right? We had a swampy August, and then dry. Makes no sense to me, but then, I'm not in charge.  In fact, I'm pretty much not in charge of a whole lot of things that shadow and touch my life. What I can do, I will do. I'm not sleeping well again-- big surprise. There's a whole lot of angsty, big-ticket stuff taking up residence in my brain, and I'd like to be able to evict it.  The good stuff keeps me going during the daylight hours, but the incipient evil and harmful stuff comes out of my brain-closet, amorphous and sinister, and I have busy/troubled dreams. I'm awake every 90 minutes, almost like someone sets an alarm.  Gah. Coffee is my friend.  Enough whining, though. It's Tuesday, and I should be getting another sales report on my little book; I think I may have sold one book last week. There's still a month to go, so maybe more orders will trickle in. I hope...

Well, it's a damp and drizzly 36 degrees. Ah, November...  And today, I have to remember to set up a winter tire appointment and an oil change. Too many miles have gone by since the oil got changed-- let's be honest, it was not on the top of my mind due to just about every other single thing. But yeah. Gotta do that.  I got the outdoor lights up yesterday, and I think they came out really nice. The new ones that I wound around the crabapple tree were still blinking along this morning when I got up. It's funny how cheerful that looks, given the outer and inner landscape lately. I hope the weather clears enough for all of the solar arrays to charge today. I got smart for once; I zip-tied the arrays in the tree branches, so that if and when we get snow, they'll still get enough light. I've been a bit dense, and snow has covered up the arrays in the past years. This should work well. I did that with the lights in the back yard this summer, mainly so no one would either ...

Looking for perspective lately? I sure am. I don't mean the long-view, or setting sights on the midterm elections... those, yeah, but that's not what I'm talking about. What I mean is, what's important? I recently bought a sweatshirt that says, "Remember Your Why."  Boy o boy, do I have to keep that in focus.  I spend a lot of time thinking about posterity, about my human community, global neighbors, etc. And maybe I need to recalibrate. Okay, not maybe. I do need to recalibrate. Why do I do what I do? Yes, there is the argument to be made that I teach for the future. I recycle. I think globally and act locally. All the bumper stickers, and then some. But why do I do what I do? (Focus on the " I " of that question.)  So many people do what they do, or at least claim that they do, out of fear or respect for God, or out of an overdeveloped sense of duty. But yet, as Milton reminds us in his Sonnet 19 : "...But patience, to prevent That murmur, s...

I am procrastinating. As in, I'm a real pro at it. The one day a week I don't have to march to a schedule is Saturday (usually), and frankly, I'm enjoying sitting in my flannel nightgown and having coffee. Yes, I have a long to-do list, but right now, I'm dwelling. Pellet stove on, slippers on. I am a house-mouse in a lot of ways.  I also have no papers to grade (okay, there are four "leftovers" but I'll get those done). I am going to clean the house and do the laundry and get groceries today. Tomorrow, I'll go to church (I'm reading), then bake and put out the solar Christmas lights. My soul needs rest.  I'm still refraining from commenting on socials about the national mash-up between The Hunger Games and Mad Max.  When I woke up this morning, I immediately thought, hey, Vonnegut covered this a while back in his short story, " Harrison Bergeron. " As is usually the case, my brain builds schema by turning to a lifetime spent in lite...

I'm pondering "fall food." I love the soup and stew season, but I also tend to get into a rut with cooking. Lately, it's been a red-meat-heavy rut, mostly due to my husband needing a high-protein, low-carb diet for so long while his foot heals. I yearn for things like corn chowder, but that's not even on the radar. Chicken soup has gone well, beef stew has been a hit... but then? Can't make pea soup, either-- too many carbs. I need to spend a little time mulling over recipes that fit the dietary requirements. If you have ideas, send me recipes.  Because it's cold. Sixteen degrees this morning-- yes, the afternoons manage to hit around 50 or so, but it's getting on in the year. The Beaver Moon is upon us, and it's lovely. I don't think I've ever paid that much attention to "super moons" before, but this one in particular has caught my eye. Maybe because the sky is dark, the stars are icy crystals, and the moon pours in through the ...

I've done a lot of thinking and praying lately; I'm honestly scared about the way things are headed. I am going to refrain from posting anything political from here on out--  "Here   is   a   mourning   Rome,   a   dangerous   Rome, No   Rome   of   safety   for   Octavius   yet" (3.1.289-90). --Shakespeare,  Julius Caesar I will post daily stuff, some literature and so on, talk about movies...  “Elinor," cried Marianne, "is this fair? is this just? are my ideas so scanty? But I see what you mean. I have been too much at my ease, too happy, too frank. I have erred against every common-place notion of decorum; I have been open and sincere where I ought to have been reserved, spiritless, dull, and deceitful:- had I talked only of the weather and the roads, and had I spoken only once in ten minutes, this reproach would have been spared.” ―  Jane Austen,  Sense and Sensibility In short, I'll chat with ...

I've been watching the series adapted from one of my favorite books, Amor Towles' A Gentleman in Moscow. It's pretty good; appropriately dark when it should be, especially in the third episode that shows the rise of Stalin and how otherwise "good" people got hoodwinked to do execrable things in the name of helping "Mother Russia." It feels prescient. The novel is beautifully, lyrically written, and I am almost inclined to read it over again, just to immerse myself in really good writing. But my To Be Read pile is huge. And I have three books of poetry to review. I need to get back into that harness rather sooner than later.  I can't quite form enough words to comment on the proposed Cabinet picks for the incoming regime, but I will say this: it's never worked well in the history of the world, let alone in the United States, or even in our own smaller lives, to put unqualified people in positions that they are clearly not suited for. Too many liv...

I read Heather Cox Richardson's "Letter" this morning, and I'm once again shook. Not only are we in for a rough go of it, but seriously-- the clear and present danger is just how indebted Trump is to Putin. Add to that, the Taliban congratulated him on his win. " Afghanistan’s Taliban offered its congratulations to the American people for 'not handing leadership of their great country to a woman'." The loss of agency for women, and now, even for men, in Afghanistan is devastating. New rules prohibit the sound of a woman's voice outside her home. That is truly frightening. And men are starting to chafe under new restrictions as well. They are apparently starting to think that they should have spoken up before putting the Taliban back in power. This is a cautionary tale to the 70 million or so who voted to give away our country. Do they think it can't happen here? Granted, not quite so strict, but the fact is, people have given away the keys t...