It was a good news day and it isn't over yet. I got a call from the GI doctor who did mom's colonoscopy and it's an adenoma, not cancer. It is the type that will turn into cancer but what he biopsied was not yet malignant. I went to Concord after work to talk to her about this and was glad to see that she has returned to her alert but sometimes forgetful self. I explained the situation to her and what I understood her options to be and asked what she would want to do and she said she would want to have surgery to prevent a cancer from developing. The next stop will be an appointment with a Nephrologist to see how her kidneys will hold up.
The other good news is that the Great Blue Herons are back to the nests visible from I89 in Springfield. It looked like there were three in the further nest. I e-mailed the photographer, Geoff Howard so he can get down there and chronicle their nesting activities.
A good day, indeed, in spite of the rain.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Breaking up is hard to do
Well, we didn't actually break up, it was more a drifting apart and I can't say that I'm sorry as I wasn't finding the relationship all that entertaining any more. We were each going in different directions and the future we were each choosing for ourselves didn't accommodate the other.
We met in 2005 when I was home recovering from surgery. I had a lot of time to devote to this relationship at that time and that's always fun in the beginning. I guess I should tell you now that this was not a person but a TV network, The Food Network and I was mesmerized. There was Rachel and Sandra, Ina and Giada, Bobby and Tyler, and Of course, Alton. It was TV on an intelligent level for the time, even the ads were a cut above, and there was cooking being presented in a manner that seemed possible for the time impaired. Rachel could do it in thirty minutes ( as long as everything was prepped before being put into the refrigerator and if you didn't mind carrying half of everything in your kitchen from one side to the other and all in one load). Sandra did it by opening bottles, jars, packets, cans, and any other type of prepared food packaging known to man but with a little bit of effort (that 30% homemade part) stirred in a bit of vanilla extract or whatever to make some chemical laden food taste like the real thing.
There was an incredible amount of information being tossed about with the vinaigrette and new-to-the-home-cook utensils that had yet to find their way into our kitchens. I now use my microplaner, spider, mini scoops, and tongs regularly and wonder how I managed without them. It was food as entertainment. Chefs were the new Rock Stars.
I don't remember exactly when disillusionment started to seep in. It may have been when I couldn't tune in without Rachel being in nearly every time slot, back to back to back Thirty Minute meals and then, whoops, there she is telling me how to eat on forty dollars a day in some upscale location and then, jeez, she has her own show a la Oprah and/or Martha Stewart. Too much, too often. Her motto should be "I'm talking and I can't shut up". This saturation of the airwaves, one chef at a time is very puzzling. Why would anyone want to watch Guy for four hours doing "Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives"? All that manic talking and eating is like like being made to eat only one food for days and days. Everything blurs together and with no variety there is no interest. There are enough chefs and formats on that network to schedule an infinite variety of program so why saturate my viewing with one chef at a time until I can no longer stand the sight or sound of him or her.
It's not easy to be "just friends" after such an intense relationship but we have come to an agreement that we'll restrict our contact to "Iron Chef America" and it seems to be working.
We met in 2005 when I was home recovering from surgery. I had a lot of time to devote to this relationship at that time and that's always fun in the beginning. I guess I should tell you now that this was not a person but a TV network, The Food Network and I was mesmerized. There was Rachel and Sandra, Ina and Giada, Bobby and Tyler, and Of course, Alton. It was TV on an intelligent level for the time, even the ads were a cut above, and there was cooking being presented in a manner that seemed possible for the time impaired. Rachel could do it in thirty minutes ( as long as everything was prepped before being put into the refrigerator and if you didn't mind carrying half of everything in your kitchen from one side to the other and all in one load). Sandra did it by opening bottles, jars, packets, cans, and any other type of prepared food packaging known to man but with a little bit of effort (that 30% homemade part) stirred in a bit of vanilla extract or whatever to make some chemical laden food taste like the real thing.
There was an incredible amount of information being tossed about with the vinaigrette and new-to-the-home-cook utensils that had yet to find their way into our kitchens. I now use my microplaner, spider, mini scoops, and tongs regularly and wonder how I managed without them. It was food as entertainment. Chefs were the new Rock Stars.
I don't remember exactly when disillusionment started to seep in. It may have been when I couldn't tune in without Rachel being in nearly every time slot, back to back to back Thirty Minute meals and then, whoops, there she is telling me how to eat on forty dollars a day in some upscale location and then, jeez, she has her own show a la Oprah and/or Martha Stewart. Too much, too often. Her motto should be "I'm talking and I can't shut up". This saturation of the airwaves, one chef at a time is very puzzling. Why would anyone want to watch Guy for four hours doing "Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives"? All that manic talking and eating is like like being made to eat only one food for days and days. Everything blurs together and with no variety there is no interest. There are enough chefs and formats on that network to schedule an infinite variety of program so why saturate my viewing with one chef at a time until I can no longer stand the sight or sound of him or her.
It's not easy to be "just friends" after such an intense relationship but we have come to an agreement that we'll restrict our contact to "Iron Chef America" and it seems to be working.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
tripping down memory lane
Beth and I have had to go to that time capsule on Perry Avenue known as our mother's house to find things she's needed or wanted. The last time there I found a newspaper from 1952 with a front page report of the annual Doll Carriage Parade at White's Park. There's Beth on the front page, above the fold, in her crepe paper dress and her crepe paper decorated doll carriage after having placed first, receiving a shiny, silver dollar. Our winning was as annual as the event because of Edythe and her amazing talent with her Singer Featherweight sewing machine and all that crepe paper from Woolworth's. We always got prizes, Brian with his decorated tricycle and Beth and me with our crepe paper dresses and decorated carriages.
She was amazing with that sewing machine. Every Christmas there was a doll with a complete homemade wardrobe under the tree. She cried when we were too old for dolls anymore. I still have all the doll clothes she made and all the knitted sweaters and hats made by her able assistant, Madlyn. All my school dresses sprang from that machine and many of them were hand smocked. I remember the day the dresses stopped. Raymond gave Edythe a new Singer sewing machine with a zigag attachment and my Easter dress of that year became it's maiden voyage only to never reach the shore of "ready to be worn". It began life as plain yellow cotton and became a sampler of all the stitches that zigzagger could do in all the colors that Coats and Clark thread had to offer. Something happened and it's fate came to be that of permanent resident of the back hall closet for the rest of its unfinished life. The next time I had a home sewn dress it was made my me, using the Featherweight Singer. It was a sweet machine.
She was amazing with that sewing machine. Every Christmas there was a doll with a complete homemade wardrobe under the tree. She cried when we were too old for dolls anymore. I still have all the doll clothes she made and all the knitted sweaters and hats made by her able assistant, Madlyn. All my school dresses sprang from that machine and many of them were hand smocked. I remember the day the dresses stopped. Raymond gave Edythe a new Singer sewing machine with a zigag attachment and my Easter dress of that year became it's maiden voyage only to never reach the shore of "ready to be worn". It began life as plain yellow cotton and became a sampler of all the stitches that zigzagger could do in all the colors that Coats and Clark thread had to offer. Something happened and it's fate came to be that of permanent resident of the back hall closet for the rest of its unfinished life. The next time I had a home sewn dress it was made my me, using the Featherweight Singer. It was a sweet machine.
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