Getting Things Done

Today I managed to do more than one thing. Had to go to the P.O. to mail poems, and I thought as long as I was out, might as well go here and there. So I had the Tracker's oil changed and took the ASPS info to Ramey at the library. Since I had already missed "Jeopardy," I thought I would go to Lowe's, but I had left the lights to be returned at home, so I just went by the grocery and bought veggies to roast--squash, zucchini, mushrooms and little onions. Feast tomorrow.

Speaking of feasts, we had one last night, courtesy of Susan's hospitality and great cooking. Ramey, Suze and I ate until there wasn't much left. They were going to watch their favorite shows on TV, so I came on home after our dinner.

Hope to have another useful day tomorrow.

Monday Morning Raining Down

Lovely weekend, lovely weather, and now things are back to normal weatherwise. My special guest this weekend was Mr. J.D. Cage of Duluth, GA. We had a great time shopping, eating, replacing light bulbs, looking at doors, and watching a movie he brought with him. The movie was a real dud--"Anonymous"--but that wasn't Jed's fault. They packed too much bad statistics in too short a space, and the sound was deplorable, like trying to carry on a conversation in the bleachers at a football game. But the actors (Ifans and V. Redgrave and J. Richardson) were good to look at.

Today I have to mail checks to Alabama State Poetry Society for the contest I'm sponsoring, and for my 2012 membership dues. Then I have to get some poems together to enter in the ASPS, National Federation of State Poetry Societies, and Alabama Conclave of Poets spring contests. The ASPS spring meeting and luncheon will be held in Fairhope, Alabama in April, so most likely I won't be there. Just mail me the checks, folks.

A Poem By Edsel Ford

My dear, I have the photographs you sent
From Williamsburg and Richmond and the sea,
In which the lady with you, whose intent
No doubt was good, focused incessantly
Around and over you, at some quaint sight,
Edging you out in favor of a wave,
A bridge, a tree. And yet, dear girl, how bright
You had to be,--though edited, how brave!
Didn't she know that when you are in Boston,
You are its first attraction? And likewise
in Cuttyhunk? This ferry that you crossed on
Means nothing now, because your laughing eyes
Were not included in the snapshot, too;
I'd hoped to have three thousand miles of you.
*
I'm not sure I have it letter-perfect in my mind. I read this poem in The New Yorker many years ago, and I thought the poet was Henry Ford's son Edsel. But not so. This Edsel Ford was born in Alabama in 1928, so says Wikipedia, and grew up in Arkansas. He was a poet who published several books, but I couldn't find this particular poem online. I'm glad it stuck in my memory.

And, I'm glad to find out Ford's true identity.

"Man's reach should exceed his grasp..."

Yesterday, trying to quit smoking, I ate/drank:

2 Marie Callender's chicken pot pies
Remains of a can of Pringle's chips
A sandwich of Gorton's fish sticks and Vlasic dill pickle stackers
3 small bunches of grapes
2 Coca-Colas (7-1/2 oz. mini-cans)
8 oz. grapefruit juice
A large package of Nutter Butter wafers
4 or 5 mugs of Folger's instant coffee with heaping spoonfuls of Coffeemate
A grilled cheese sandwich with Vlasic stacker and 1/8 stick of margarine (Parkay)

Finally, at 8:00 p.m., feeling very humble and defeated, burping all the way, I went to the Chevron and bought cigarettes.

*

I'm waiting for the Lowe's man with the metal door for the basement. He said he'd be here today between 9:00-10:00 a.m. No, he said, "Will between 9-10 o'clock be okay?" Maybe he meant p.m.

Old Photos and Attic Treasures

"A society is defined not only by what it creates, but by what it refuses to destroy."
--Edward O. Wilson (Courtesy of Jim Reed)

I think it was about 1907 when Daddy Doll got modern ideas, inspired by a modest inheritance from his step-father. He spent all the money installing electric lights and other prototypical monstrosities. Even a bathroom. The Dresden chamber-pot in the photograph used to reside in the guest room armoire, and Saturday baths took place in the washtub.

 This was Camilla at about that time, at age three or four,

and this was Kenya the cook making breakfast on the wood-burning range.

Up to that time, Cook thought she ruled the house, because she was the only one there who could even safely boil water. But when a gas stove--and later even an electric one--was brought in, she found that nobody listened to her protests. The only way she could make an impression was to resign. Temporarily. The wood stove went to the attic, anyway.

Cook stayed with her sister in another town for a month. Mama didn't know how to cook, and all Daddy could make was fried pies. Sometimes he forgot to poke holes in the dough, the pies would explode, and the kitchen would get decorated with hot boiled apricots or canned hash. He tried to make biscuits, but they turned out so hard, even the dogs turned up their noses.

The pretty bassinet in the attic was used for both Camilla and little Dolores/Dolly. But Peter weighed nearly twelve pounds at birth, and he had to have a bigger cradle. The portrait is thought to be of someone's maiden aunt, but all that is remembered of her is that she was called Dovie.

*

I watched "Amadeus" last night. The Mozart concerto, a link to which is in the left column of this blog, is the most beautiful piece of music ever created, I say. And I haven't even heard them all.

Oh, Fudge!

I don't know how many decades it had been since I last made chocolate fudge, until last Tuesday. Had no idea how to go about it, and all the recipes I could find around the house called for marshmallow, or powdered sugar, or other ingredients that didn't suggest what I craved. I used just one cup of sugar, so that if it was a mess I wouldn't be wasting much. It turned out so good, I wanted to eat the whole little disk that resulted. But I controlled myself, and just finished the last crumbs this afternoon. The secret ingredient, the "wow factor," was two tablespoons of Jiff peanut butter that I stirred into the pot.

A Cabbage As Big As Your Head

Daddy Doll pretends to hate flowers. His real motive is keeping anyone from prowling around in his study, making changes.

Lucinda the maid, jealous of all the flowers downstairs, has begged and begged him to let her put an arrangement in the study.

"No!" says Daddy. "I won't have my room being set up for the ladies' garden club meeting!"

"If I done it anyway, sir, just to see how it looks, would you sack me, sir?"

"Sack you? What do you mean, 'sack' you?"

"I mean, would you like fire me?" Lucinda has a mischievous side.

"Why, no," says Daddy, "I'd never go that far! You injure me, Lucinda! Have I ever mentioned firing anybody? Do I strike you as a cruel person, Lucinda? Have you ever seen or heard me make anyone unhappy? Doing violence to anyone's feelings?"

"No, sir," Lucinda lies.

She was finally permitted to put one blossom in the study.

"One blossom!" Daddy boomed. "Get one of those d__'d things from the kitchen garden--one of those cabbages as big as your silly head!"

Of course, they're not cabbages, but an old bush of cabbage roses that grow to gigantic size. When fully opened, they're bigger than a dinner plate. Lucinda was happy enough, so she stuck one big rose in the stein on top of the green bookcase--as instructed by Daddy. She had to use the library ladder to get up there, and nearly had a fall.

Other Stuff Around the House

The quilt on this bed was made by Grandma's cousin, a Mrs. Cleveland.

*

This is what Daddy mockingly calls "the kitchen garden!" The erstwhile* handyman, Billy Bones, occasionally plants herbs or something there, but his addiction to alcohol prevents his taking proper care of things, so they die. All except the cabbage rose which has been there all along.

*in the sense of "sometime"

*

If any spot around the house can be called a garden, this one on the other side of the house is it. Maybe you can't see him, but Dolly's pet turtle Aesop has escaped the house and is trying to climb into the pond.

If It's Tuesday, It Must Be Valentine's Day!

Have a happy day, Everyone!

Giant

Another movie I had never seen in its entirety was on TCM this morning. It was worth watching to the end, I guess. But I've got to get busy around here. Anyway, whatever else he was, Rock Hudson was the handsomest man I ever saw, in or out of the movies. Which just goes to show you. In the '50s and '60s, I kept hoping they would remake "Gone With the Wind," with him and Liz T.

I'm getting busy.

Lassie Came Home

I had never seen the movie, "Lassie Come Home," until yesterday on TCM. Everything about it was perfect except a close-up of tiny Elizabeth Taylor's face in which, with so much makeup, she looked exactly like the adult E. Taylor in one of her skinnier moments.

Yesterday my Sister Susan had an afib episode with much pain, and sensibly called the paramedics and went to the hospital. They stabilized her and ran tests, but I haven't heard today whether she's still there or has come home. I hope the MD's and techs weren't in the mood to put her through a transesophageal EKG, as they did me the only time I called 911--I was routed to the stroke center, when all I had was vertigo--those ceiling beams in the living room were whizzing around like in a tornado, and I got scared, was all.

I came out of my hole this morning and saw my shadow. I'm in the mood to hibernate for another six weeks or so.

It's here.

My favorite months, from best to worst:

December - November - October - September - May -April - June - March - January - August - July - February

The best thing about February is that it's short.

One of the worst things about it is that it's hard to pronounce.