The Phone Episode

Yesterday started out as a wonderful day with my BFF and our grandchildren at Harkness Memorial Park. A perfect day for the beach, sunny, hot, and the water was crystal clear and fairly warm. All five children had brightly colored bathing suits and were playing with all the pastel colored buckets and shovels we had carried in. We had a large beach blanket, a striped beach umbrella and coolers full of food to snack on. The children were having a great time in the water, finding special rocks and shells, building fairy houses, and scooping up the large jelly fish that were floating by. They even found the remains of a sand shark and until Diane shushed them, were screaming “SHARK”. Everyone on the beach took notice, as Lily held the headless, two foot long carcass by the tail. All the while, I was snapping photos with my Iphone. I love taking photos and capturing moments. The photos were beautiful, so colorful, action packed and I was excited to post them. BUT..... somehow, I had put the phone in my "top" and somehow, at some point, it fell out, I hadn't noticed. Sometime later, I thought I would check for messages. Hmm, couldn't find the phone. Checking all the bags for the third time, I asked Diane to call my phone.......nothing. Just then, Diane's granddaughter came running up, "Look what I found in the water!" Ugh....... yes, it was my phone. It had been sloshing around in the waves for at least 45 minutes. Needless to say, it was dead. I didn't panic, but was feeling a bit sick in the stomach. We have all heard horror stories of people that have lost their phones. My phone had been found, but was useless. All my contacts, all of my photos...... gone. The phone was only one year old and I was still making payments on it. Of course, I had opted NOT to get the insurance, so I was out of luck. We let the children play for another hour or so, then packed everything and everyone up and hiked back to the car for the ride home. Once home, my granddaughter let me use her phone to call Verizon to see if there was a way to take the battery out......”no”. They suggested putting the phone in a bag with rice, which my Lily had already done. The next suggestion was to put a fan blowing over it. Lily ran and got her little 3” fan I had picked up for the kids at the Dollar store, put new batteries in it and packed it in with the phone and rice. Due to all the events going on in August, I needed my phone desperately. We have a major family gathering for my folks 75th Wedding Anniversary in ten days. Family and friends need to be delivered and picked up from Airports, there are appointments for my Dad who was just paroled from the hospital, visiting nurses, therapists, etc. There are Grandchildren to be cared for and phone calls to family and updates to be conveyed. I drove to the Verizon store and explained what happened. The young salesman was quite sympathetic and shook his head slightly when I asked if there was any hope. So, I had to bite the bullet and spring for a new phone. It took a little over an hour to retrieve all of my contacts, settings and photos. I was disappointed that I had lost the photos that were taken at the beach... they were gone! Any phone calls or messages from Tuesday were also gone. It’s been twenty four hours since the phone was retrieved from the salt water. Sad to say, I have to let go........The rice and the fan were a valiant effort but I have to call it. At 1:30pm Weds. August 10th, 2016 my Iphone 6 has been officially declared deceased. Parts and pieces have been harvested to save severely incapacitated damaged Iphone's of other family members.

Chatfield Hollow State Park

It was six am. I’ve had my coffee, read my news, caught up on social activities and fixed myself an omelet with sharp cheddar cheese, downed a second cup of coffee and knew I needed to get out of the house. After getting dressed and grabbing a pair of socks, I put on my flip flips, filled a water bottle and off I went to Chatfield Hollow State Park. It is one of my favorite places to walk in the woods. The trails are well marked, the vegetation is always changing and I was in search of mushrooms. It had rained most of the day yesterday and after finding a cauliflower mushroom growing in the yard, I thought that I would seek out more and take some photos.

It’s a short drive to Killingworth where the state park is located and being so early, it was not difficult to find a parking spot. I put my socks and hiking shoes on and I was off in search of mushrooms. Just about everyone at the park that early in the morning, is there to walk their dogs. There’s every kind of dog imaginable, most very well behaved and leashed but there’s always a few that bark incessantly. The light was filtering down through the trees, still wet from the early morning rain shower. The forest floor was soggy and slick and I thought it best to stay on the road for a while. Passing the swimming pond, a grey herring was perfectly still, eyeing it’s prey in the still water. The fragrance from all the flowering shrubs and trees was intoxicating and although I was ever watchful for the mushrooms, I did not spy a single one.

The stream was full from yesterdays rain and the sound of the water cascading over the rocks made me want to sit for a while. The ferns were changing color as the breeze, drifted them in and out of the sunlight.

I thought back to a time when our family would come for picnics in the park. The children would run and explore, fall in the stream, roast marsh-mellows on the campfire. I wonder now, if we could get everyone together with the grandchildren and do the same. Times have changed. Reflections and water plants make me hover for a bit and take more photos. The bright green moss slowly creeps along the rocks and up the trees. The wild iris’s are just past their prime by the stone wall.

it’s one of my favorites.

A yellow butterfly, stops for a rest at my feet and then circles me a few times before fluttering away. I’m thankful my niece Jen is enjoying the walk with me. I think of her often.

The pines, so straight and true are sending billowing clouds of yellow pollen, that comes to rest on everything.

The rain puddles that have slowly seeped into the ground have been outlined in the sticky yellow powder.

Circling the red clapboard nature center with its massive stone chimney, overlooking the pond, I’m dreaming how nice it would be to hunker down inside, during the long winter months by a warm fire.

As I walked out, along the road to the parking area, I realized I had not found one mushroom anywhere, but was not disappointed. I passed a small group of students, embarking on their end of school field trip, backpacks hanging heavy, bug spray and suntan lotion permeating the air. I climb up the hill, turn and snap a photo, smile and hope they love their time in the forest as much as I do.

The Christmas Stroll

My folks have been married for seventy years and live in the small coastal town of Old Saybrook, Connecticut. On December 2nd, 2011, my Dad (92), and my Mom (90), decided they would like to participate in the town’s, Main Street festivities. The agenda included, a Heroes Tree Lighting in front of the Katherine Hepburn Cultural Arts Center, honoring those who gave their lives for our Country. The stores along Main Street were brightly decorated, with open doors and holiday refreshments, an enticement to all of the visitors. Horse drawn hay rides carried families up and down the beautifully decorated streets. There were Christmas Carolers in period clothing, on the corners, entertaining the crowds with their merriment. Santa Claus was greeting the children, taking note of the items on their wish list. The whole town was out to support the local shops and enjoy the music. The air was filled with laughter and people coming together.

My parents live in the Senior Housing complex, across from the elementary school, about two blocks from Main Street. My folks had enjoyed going to the Stroll for a number of years and my Dad said, let’s go! My Mom did not want to drive with all the people crowded in the streets. My Dad had the bright idea, mind you, he is blind and deaf, to borrow a wheelchair for my Mom. She has arthritis in her knees and uses a walker to shuffle along. Dad would push her in the wheelchair, down the road to Main Street! They both got excited, it would be great fun!
The wheelchair was picked up from the office and taken back to their apartment. It was then decorated with fake green garland and blinking white lights. My parents donned their Christmas finery, warm coats, Santa hats, gloves and lap robe. They were ready to go!
With Mom in the wheelchair and Dad holding the rear handles, off they went! When they got to the end of sidewalk at the entrance to their complex, my Dad was huffing and puffing, pushing the chair with Mom in it, was a tad more strenuous than he thought. My Mom could hear his heavy breathing and voiced her concern, but Dad said he was fine. They would have to travel along the road, two blocks to Main Street, in the DARK!
Dad was pushing while Mom directed him at the top of her lungs. Dad was not hearing her. She was facing forward, he behind her, she yelled, THE CURB! They made it to Main Street without any catastrophic incidents. Now, once onto Main Street, they tried to make their way to the Art Center for the tree lighting, just another block away! The sidewalk was crowded with revelers. Dad was pushing, Mom was yelling, STOP, YOU ARE GOING TO RUN PEOPLE OVER! Dad, not hearing her, pushed on. A large dog, tugging at the end of his leash, bumped the wheelchair, the arm of the chair fell off. I’m sure Mom’s death grip might have had something to do with it. Dad started hollering, “What’s the matter with you, get that damn dog out of here, watch where you’re going!” Mom’s yelling at him to "pipe down". The dogs owner, said he was sorry, fixed the arm, said Merry Christmas and walked on.
Mom and Dad were both frustrated. Dad mostly because he could not see where he was going and was getting tired of getting yelled at. Mom, because Dad couldn't hear her and scared to death because she was being pushed head on into people.
Sounds like fun to me!
They reached the tree lighting and enjoyed the upfront seating, Dad being a Veteran and all. The ceremony and speech honoring the war heroes was quite beautiful and they both teared up. They chatted with the locals and enjoyed the music that was played by the band.
After the ceremony they thought it best if they headed back towards home. They were both exhausted and a bit frightened about the trip back, although neither one would admit it.
They slowly made their way back through the crowd to Sheffield Street and started the two block walk, back to their apartment. Dad was pushing the wheelchair with it’s fake green garland and blinking white lights. Mom in her Santa hat, riding with a death grip on the arms of the chair. Neither of them speaking a word.
Fifty yards or so down Sheffield Street, Dad was huffing and puffing so hard, Mom thought he was going to have a stroke. She yelled “STOP!” Which I’m sure could have been heard across town. Dad stopped. Mom wiggled and squirmed until she was standing. She inched her way around to the back of the wheelchair and insisted that my Dad get in! She, was going to push him! (I’m laughing out loud). I’m sure the air was blue! To her consternation, he wouldn’t hear of it! Mom, refused to get back in the chair. (It's a good thing neither of them are unreasonably obstinate.)
So, my ninety year old Mom, with arthritis in her knees, started pushing the empty chair, and my ninety two year old, blind and deaf Dad, hanging onto the right side of the wheelchair with the blinking lights, walked slowly, and I mean slowly, and in utter silence, the two of them, made their way home.
Dad unlocked the front door, helped get Mom and the wheelchair inside, hung up their coats, and without speaking went into his room and shut the door. Mom went to the cabinet and took a Valium, or nerve pill, as Mom calls it, and laid on the couch. Neither of them spoke a word the rest of the night.
I called Mom on Sunday morning to see how they were doing and she recounted the agonizing, “horrible” evening. I laughed so hard, I thought I’d wet my pants!!!!! If only they were wearing a helmet cam! We could have made millions! I told her to look at it from my perspective.....Mom started laughing. You can't make this up!
It’s been over six weeks now and the two of them can finally talk about “The Stroll”, and laugh. Dad decided pushing Mom around town in a wheelchair wasn't all that much fun. Mom said, it WAS a really nice evening, and they did receive some really “nice” greetings from all the “nice” people that came out to enjoy the Christmas Stroll.
Sitting on the couch together, holding hands, they both agreed, they won’t go on any more walking adventures, in the dark! They gave each other a kiss and a squeeze and started laughing.

But, they are currently talking about a ten day trip to Ireland, in May.
More laughs to come!

Rough Water

Reading the news about the cruise ship that was in trouble going through Drake's Passage, on it's way to Antarctica bought back some memories.....

Although I could never afford the $8-10,000 for a one week trip, I've read and dreamed about taking a cruise to Antarctica and working there for a year. The thought of going through Drakes Passage at the tip of Cape Horn fascinates and terrifies me at the same time.
I've been in very high seas, back in 2004. I had signed up for a tour of the Fiord's out of Juneau, Alaska. It was a twelve hour day trip. After cruising about ninety minutes from port, the weather had taken a very nasty turn. The seas were so high, the tour boat that held about seventy passengers, was getting tossed around like a toy. Deck chairs and trash cans were flung overboard as the ship gyrated back and forth, getting slammed by the next wave. All passengers were already inside the small cabin, to avoid the wet salty spray, that stung when it hit your face. Most had their heads buried in there arms, folded on the tables. I kept thinking to myself, it must be this "very" young Captains first adventure taking the controls of the ship. He seemed to be getting hit from the side by each of the waves. I later learned he was very experienced. The unpredictable turbulence of the Alaskan waters is very real.
The plastic deck chair that I was sitting in would come off the deck about 6-8" every time the ship slammed down into the next troth. I'm always up for a great adventure, and didn't want to miss the excitement and enjoyed the adrenalin rush. There was only one young man and myself out on the deck. His fiance and the rest of the passengers were inside. There were so many people getting sick in the small salon, yuck. Who would want to miss the raging seas, the howling wind, and be inside with all the retching? Not me!
At this point, the captain announced, "if" we could make it another hour or so, we would be through the worst of it. There seemed to be no worry and there was no call for life jackets. Another thirty minutes went by....suddenly, the ship slammed so hard into a huge wave, that I lost my grip on the rail, the chair went flying across the deck with me in it, spread eagle, hoping to grab anything. I thought I was going over the rail. The young man grabbed the arm of my chair as I slid by and I grabbed his arm. His eyes were as wide as saucers, as I'm sure mine were. Somehow, we quickly, wiggled and scooted our chairs back to the center of the ship right by the entrance to the cabin, locked our arms around the rail by the door and sighed a HUGE sigh, then laughed like crazy! In a situation like this, things run through your mind. Was there a chance that the ship might go down as so many in Alaska do? I realized that I wasn't terrified, just excited, and that if I went into the water, so be it. What a way to go, experiencing a fabulous adventure. I thought, this is what it's like for all the sailors and fishermen that work out on the ocean, everyday.
A few minutes later, the captain announced that the seas were about to get rougher. I could hear the people inside screaming in fear, some shouting, NOOOO! Soon, at the terrified bequest of all the passengers inside, the Captain was coming about, and heading back to Juneau.
Although disappointed that we didn't get to the Fiord's, I have to admit, I was relieved that we would NOT be experiencing rougher water. The cruise company refunded the cost of the trip. The weather was pretty bad the rest of the week, so I haven't experienced the Fiord's, YET!
(There were no photos taken on this adventure. I didn't want to risk loosing my camera, so it stayed in my backpack, in the cabin).
Taking the Antarctic cruise and experiencing Drake's Passage is on my Bucket List!

Below is a video link to the cruise ship that was recently in trouble in Drake's Passage.

http://www.usatoday.com/video/index.htm?bctid=703298531001


Remember...Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming , WOW, WHAT A RIDE!

The Fog 10/27/10

It’s early morning, the light is just breaking. I’m sitting at the table, looking out the front window towards the bay. I’m mesmerized by the dense fog that is sitting low on the water. Across the road, the pine and birch trees that are faded in the fog, line the edge of the water like a gateway to a surreal vastness. The fog has totally obliterated the sight of the water and islands. There is an emptiness.





Looking out the side window the glowing leaves of the deciduous trees, burning yellow, amber, orange and red, shine so brightly it fills my living room like sunshine. Although surrounded by the vibrant colors of the fall leaves, it’s the grey emptiness that holds my attention, it’s calling me like a siren. It’s not a cold empty feeling, it feels warm, as if I’m snuggled in a beautiful wool blanket, to ward off the dampness.. it feels like..... home.

I'm tired........

I just moved into a beautiful furnished home with fabulous ocean views for the winter, but the house has a quirk...

10/18/10
I’m tired....
That darn water conditioner! It sits on the backside of my bedroom wall. I’m going to have to do something about that contraption! I’ve looked for the paperwork to change the timer but as of yet, have had no luck.
The tubular tank of steel with a digital control on top, back-washes at 3AM! It sounds like the space shuttle taking off with full booster rockets, and the sound of gushing fire hoses squirting everywhere! When it starts, (third time in ten days), I sit straight up in bed, thinking the house is ready to explode. I jump out of bed, feel my way to the far bedroom door that opens into the bathroom, quickly inching my way around to the left, so as not to fall off the step, (which happened the first night in the house). With hands outstretched, I carefully and quickly feel for the folding louvered doors that fold outward into the bathroom. I slide my hand, left and right, up and down, on the right hand wall for the light switch to illuminate the mechanical room, where the furnace, washer and dryer and the dang water conditioner reside. I flip the switch expecting to see water pouring everywhere and seeing the water conditioner vibrating with flames shooting out of the bottom and expecting lift off out through the roof, any second. My eyes squinting, (no time to find my glasses) adjusting to the bright light and with heart pounding out of my skin, I look, and much to my amazement, everything was as it should be, no water squirting anywhere, the tubular metal water conditioner, sitting in the corner, still making ungodly noises, stationary, and no rocket fuel bursting flames from the base of it. I take a deep breath and wonder..........Who in their right mind, would set the water conditioner to backwash at 3AM!!!!!! The previous tenants? Did they work nights? The company that installed the dang thing (mean joke if they did)? Or, does it just backwash when needed?
Today, I’m tired......after checking for lift off and seeing that all was okay, I went back to bed, but hearing that thing jumble softball size rocks around inside that metal tube for thirty to forty minutes, I was wide awake. 3:45AM, It was time to make coffee, by 6:30AM, I had made a batch of oatmeal cookies, checked my email, took photos of a lobster boat chugging by, the lobster man in his yellow slicker, checking his traps. I ran down the road in my bathrobe and slippers to catch a good photo, between the trees, of a huge tanker heading to Searsport and a beautiful sailboat with red sails, skimming across the beam of sunshine that was just cresting the horizon. By 8AM, I had washed all the windows on the front of the house inside and out and swept the garage........I went to work this afternoon for five hours, came home had a glass of wine and a bag of microwave popcorn for dinner. That's all I could muster.
It’s now, 8PM, I’m absolutely exhausted and heading to bed. If that dang thing goes off again in the morning. I’m grabbing my sleeping bag and heading for the garage!

Baked or Fried?

I picked up a part time job waitressing at the diner that’s just a half a mile down the road from where I’m staying in my camper for the summer. Mind you, I’m almost fifty eight years old and it has been a few years since I last waited tables at the Lodge in Alaska.
I trained for two days, doing the morning shift that starts at 6:30AM. The morning shift is perfect for me, as I’m usually awake by 4:30AM and out in the garden.
Prepping for the day, the morning shift is responsible for shredding cabbage and carrots and making dressing for cole slaw, filling catsup and syrup bottles, making tartar sauce, etc.
We wash pots and pans that the cooks have been using to make their soups and specials for the day and carry five gallon buckets of ice from the ice machine in the basement to fill the soda fountain machine. Suffice it to say, carrying heavy buckets up the stairs, then standing on a chair to reach the top of the soda machine and lifting the buckets to pour into the top of the soda machine gives me pause to consider what the heck was I thinking!
The first day was a bit overwhelming, one of the busiest days the restaurant has had in three months. One waitress, and one trainee, a very busy day to say the least. I worked until 3:30PM the first day, totally exhausted and worn out. I did fine and waited tables without incident. When in training you’re not allowed to keep any tips, they all go to the girl training you. Okay, so that’s the rules, I can deal with that. The second day was a bit easier, although I was still exhausted from my first day.
It was now my third day, my first day on my own and able to keep my tips. The other waitress and I took turns taking tables. It was extremely slow. There were the few regulars, coffee and muffin and a few folks in for a full breakfast. It was fine, I actually got to chat with the people for a while and I thought, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
One couple came in, they looked very familiar, and I asked where they were from. They said from Clinton, Connecticut, my home town. At the time, the woman worked for the Clinton Recorder, the local paper, and after thirty years we caught up on all the people we knew in common.
The morning went by and it was a nice steady pace. Around 11:15 an older gentleman, maybe in his early seventies, came in, alone. I assumed a farmer, wearing his blue Dickie work clothes. He had a full beard, a dark tan and large hands that showed many years of hard work. I handed him the lunch menu and placed a cup of hot, Green Mountain coffee down on the table in front of him. He looked up at me and asked what the lunch specials were. That’s when the trouble began............
Usually, the lunch specials are printed out by the cook by 10AM, not today. I asked the other waitress if she could print them out, she said no. So, I went to the kitchen and asked the cook. I won’t mention his name, he’s a very tall fellow and in the three days that I had been working, I never saw him smile once. As a matter of fact, he seemed like a very angry man, slamming pots and snarling. Everyone else that works in the restaurant is very pleasant, says excuse me, or behind you, or pardon me, when they walk by you, not this guy, he just huffs by. I asked the grouch, nicely, if he could take a moment and please, print out the lunch specials, that we had a customer that was asking about them. I received no answer, as a matter of fact, he never even acknowledged me. I went back to the table with the elderly gentleman and said that it might be a few minutes, he was fine with that. I then asked the other waitress if she could help. She went to the kitchen and asked the grouch if he would please print out the specials.
He came out, sat at the counter where the computer and cash register are and started to work on the specials. Mind you, it’s a full page of specials, about twenty of them. I felt bad for the gentleman that was waiting and looking over the grouch’s shoulder, I tried to remember the long list of specials, walked back to the farmer, and could only remember two. After two trips, I gave up. The cook got up and walked back to the kitchen. I walked behind the counter and could hear the printer working but no paper was coming out. I read the screen and it said the printer was out of ink! It had been about twenty minutes since this poor man sat down to order his lunch and still no specials. He decided to order from the regular lunch menu. He ordered a large haddock dinner. He mentioned that he only came to the restaurant once every three or four months as a special treat to himself. I asked if he wanted mashed or french fries, and told him the long list of vegetables that he could choose from that I had written on the back of my order pad. Squash was his choice of vegetable and he requested extra tartar sauce. I remembered to put the price on the order ticket and thanked the farmer for his patience.
I walked back to the kitchen, put the order ticket up on the nail for the cook, and said “order up”. I turned and walked back to take care of the other customers. After seven minutes or so, I heard “Mary Ellen”, and walked back to the kitchen, the cook had the farmers order in his hand and asked me “baked or fried?” Oh my goodness, I hadn’t asked the farmer, now I had to go back and ask.
The farmer said, “fried”........now, I was flustered, this poor man had been in the restaurant for over a half an hour and his food still hadn’t been started! I turned and walked back to the kitchen and stared at the cook, who said “Well?”.........Oh no, I had forgot! I couldn’t believe it! He said, “go back and ask him how he wants his haddock cooked, baked or fried.” I was so embarrassed and was starting to shake. I turned and walked back to the farmer with a sheepish look on my face, and apologized profusely, and told him, I had forgotten what he said, baked or fried? He calmly looked at me and said, “fried”. Back to the kitchen and yikes, I drew a complete blank, nothing, not a clue, I had no idea what that man had said to me! I had a brain cramp and couldn’t remember, baked or fried. I turned and went back around the corner, and looked at the farmer, he was staring at me and just mouthed the word “FRIED”. So after an hour of waiting, I finally brought the farmer his lunch. He enjoyed his haddock, and after finishing and walking towards the door to leave, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry Mary Ellen, your memory will get better”. I thanked him and said no, that it probably wouldn’t but as long as people have a sense of humor about it, and weren’t on a time schedule, we would all be fine. He left me a very generous tip.
I don’t know if I’m cut out for waitressing at this point in my life. I enjoy talking with people and don’t mind the work. It’s my brain that I’m concerned with. Too bad our brains aren’t like computers, that you can clear out the hard drive and reboot. I’ve decided from now on, when I ask, “baked or fried”, I’ll be sure to write it down, even if I have to write it on my hand...........”IF”, I can remember.