only pie, and nevermore...

Yesterday I felt the need to make a pie.

An apple pie to be exact.

So I pulled out my handy-dandy 1950's "Meals Men Like" recipe book my mother gave me when I first moved from home. It's true; that's the title. At the time I wasn't sure if it was because it was a great cookbook, or my mother's way of saying, "You're on your own now. Find yourself a mate. This, my dear, is the way to do it."

Over the years this cookbook has lent itself to finding me many 'mates', even a husband. But it turns out the cookbook is the best cookbook. Basic meals done right. It even teaches you how to time it perfectly so you can have the kids washed, and yourself primped before your husband gets home from work for dinner.

Really.

It does.

Apparently the print is too small for me to read those words. I guess my feminist eyes can't seem to make sense of the random words placed into sentences. But I can attest to the great recipes inside. Fact: I still have the cookbook. I do not, however, have the husband.

On page 23 of this fine manual of cooking is the recipe for the "Best Ever Apple Pie". I've made it several times. You can tell the recipes that I like because of their not so clean pages. While gathering the ingredients I realized I was in need of more butter. I headed out to the grocery.

Going there is normally a mundane, routine event.

I drive several blocks east, cross a bridge, over the tracks, make a left hand turn...Bam, you're there.

Uneventful. Just like a trip to the grocery store should be.

But then I drove home...

One my way back to my house I came across three large black birds. Ravens. They were just sitting in the middle of the roadway. I slowed down as I approached, figuring they would fly away.

They did not.

I swerved around the cluster of feathered freaks looking at them out my drivers side window. Two continued about their business pecking at something invisible in the road. The third met my eye and continued to watch me, knowingly, as I drove by.

When I looked in my rear view mirror it had turned and was still watching me as I placed distance between me and them. I could see it like a Stephen King novel or movie, the car moving in slow motion while MOID (Music of Impending Doom) played in the background.

That was weird. It made the hair stand up on my neck and arms.

What would you do if something really bothered you? When your mind starts playing all kinds of horror scenarios because of something you just saw? Why, yes. Nancy likes to pull out her complete Borzoi Edition of Edgar Allen Poe, the amazing master freakazoid.

Many years ago, a friend gave me the complete works of Edgar. It's still one of my favorite gifts. 1423 pages of macabre poetry. It's beautiful and tormented and fabulous all in a messed up way. His words tweak something in my mind. His poetry single handedly made me decide on psychiatry as a major in college.

So after my encounter with the subtly, yet terrifying blackbirds, I made my pie and them poured myself a glass of wine. I lit a fire, grabbed a blanket and snuggled into the sofa for a good read. Of Poe. The Raven to be specific, it seemed rather fitting. And then my second favorite, The Tell-Tale Heart.

I slumbered off with the heat of the fireplace and the snoring of my big dog at my knees. And then my keen ears heard the sound. A faint 'Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock'. It was very quiet, yet I could hear it.

I asked my daughter in the other room, "Can you hear that? It's driving me crazy!"

"What?, she replied.

"That sound. Incessant ticking. You can't HEAR that?"

"No Mommy. There's no sound."

So I settled back in to read a few more pages. One of the cats came to laze on the comforter under my chin. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. I looked around. Where could that damn sound be coming from?

I got up and followed the sound. Stealth like, hoping to catch whatever it was that was disturbing my restful evening. I went into the kitchen; the sound became fainter. Dining room? Non-existent. Living room; very strong.

I proceeded up the stairs to the second floor. As I ascended the sound dissipated. Quieter. No longer there. So I headed back down. As I neared the base of the stairs the sound increased. There it was, the southwest wall. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

I don't own a clock. Not a ticking clock. They drive me insane. The only clocks I own are digital. Or Swiss movement. So there IS no ticking sound. No tock.

But that's what I heard.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Pull it together Nancy. Those birds sure did make an impression. Geez, was the wine that potent? The story that great? What the hell's up with this clock noise?

I fluffed my pillows, poured a new claret and turned the page. And I read:

"Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came a rapping.

And so faintly you came a tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you. "Here I opened wide the door.,---

Darkness there and nothing more."

Those lines got me thinking about the actor last year at Cedar Point. Every year they put on a Hallow Weekends. They stay open until the last weekend in October. There are haunted houses to attend, they dress up the grounds in spooky attire and you can still ride all the coasters and rides. It's just a fun time had by all.

Last year at the glass blowing gallery they had a singular actor that recited Edgar Allen Poe. Not your normal fare at Cedar Point. But it was really well done. He was amazing. Freaky. Spooky. Talented and dark.

I was in love.

I wanted more.

I went to every performance. I thought it brilliant.

Usually those not riding coasters at Cedar Point are having their portraits sketched, or buying carved candles or branded leather. Not sitting in a dark glass blowing arena watching a performer. Totally. Freak. You. Out.

After each performance I wasn't sure whether to shake his hand or bolt for daylight. I shook his hand. I needed him to know that his performance wasn't wasted. On those that didn't know what Poe is/was. On his brilliant macabre. His tone. His dementia.

When I sat and read my Poe, I thought about those Ravens.

And then I thought of my pie. And my iPod. Cue song.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life..."

There's that damn noise again. "What the..."

I jumped up and rushed toward the sound. Here, out in the driveway, is my dog, with the pie pan licking it incessantly. Trying to get every last bit of the pie from the tin.

That's the sound.

And, there's my pie. Or what's left of it.

The sound is the damn tin hitting the tree with every lick and then bouncing back to the pavement.

My first thought? "Boy, is that dog going to have gas tonight" and "I'm going to have to make another pie." But he did seem to enjoy it. The cookbook is for "Meals Men Like". Notice it wasn't the female dog who gluttonously ate the pie.

Problem solved. I can chill.

But still, how do you explain the crows?

That still freaks me out...

:-)

one mans trash...

I participate with the local Freecycle program.

You've heard of it?

No? You're kidding.

They have Freecycle groups all over the globe. There are currently over 4,800 groups with 6 million plus members.

And it's free.

Yup. You heard me correctly...FREE.

You know how I love me the 'free' word...

The Freecycle Network is a way to keep useful items out of the landfills and keep out landscape clean. Promoting reuse. It connects people with stuff to give away to people who need it and can use it. A grassroots nonprofit Craig's list of sorts.

If you've got stuff in your basement that you know you're never going to use again, don't have the time or energy to put it up on eBay or have a garage sale...Freecycle is the way to go.

You can either offer things, or ask for things.

Now, of course, there are those that push it a bit. Which irritates me just a tad. Asking for cell phones, snow blowers or new washers and dryers. The best the other day someone had the gall to ask for white lace curtains and a Mac laptop.

Yeah, right.

"Oh, I've not using this $3000 computer, I'll just give it away to a random person."

I'm all for helping out, people, but c'mon. I want a snow blower and a Mac, but I'm not going to put a post up that asks for one. Please.

There are those really in need that can utilize the stuff that you were just going to throw away. I used to give a lot to Goodwill Industries. But with recent news about the executives salaries and how much gets pilfered before hitting their shelves, I found another source of charitable donations. Keeping it closer to home.

For instance, today I offered some GNC vitamins that I can't take. They were expensive. The women's mega vitamin packs, but I can't take 6 big pills each morning. It makes me gag.

I do not want to gag the first thing in the morning. Voluntarily or otherwise.

But I'm not the type to take them back. They've been opened. I used some.

So what to do? Throw them away?

Nah.

I put them up on Freecycle.

And within 3 minutes someone replied with, "Hey, I can use those."

So BAM. Out on the porch they go with Kathy's name on them.

Scott came by today to pick up the old office phones that had been collecting dust on their boxes in the basement. Michelle picked up a pair of my daughters outgrown muck-muck's. Danielle will be by tomorrow to pick up for her daughter Boo's running shoes. And then I got a bag of gourds and a big 4x6 piece of sandstone for my garden.

I give. I get.

Cool.

And nothing goes into the landfills. It's my little way of helping my fellow man and the Mother Earth at the same time.

Double cool.

I could add a triple cool, a quadruple cool and more...but you get the idea.

It makes me feel like I'm really helping out my fellow humans and my community. Last year I had a compiled a box of stuff that I no longer needed. Some of the items were gifts that had been given to me that I never had used. They weren't for me, but I knew someone might appreciate them. I started up a e-mail correspondence with this woman who was going to come by to get some a few of my daughters toys that she no longer played with. She was going to wrap them for one of her daughters for Christmas. I happened to find out through our correspondence that she had 5 children. I asked ages and put together a box of things that had gifts for each of her children. Stuff that I just had around taking up space.

She was quite delighted to be able to give gifts that Christmas. Especially at a time when she and her husband wouldn't have been able to afford that luxury. And it made me feel good. About myself.

It's about extending a helping hand. I know that my contribution may be small, but every little bit counts. And helps. I would hope that someday because I've helped another, if one day I'm the one that needs help, someone will extend their hand.

It's the pay it forward mentality. I believe it. I try to live it.

So can you join a Freecycle? Yeah, I bet you can. There's tons of them out there. You can click right here to get to the home page. From there you can search your city to see if a group already exists. And if it doesn't, you can start one up.

You know the saying, "One mans trash is another mans treasure." It's true.

Did I mention it's free?

Free.

I just love that word...

:-)

the things kids say...

My daughter was given an assignment to complete from school.

It's called an 'alpha-biography'.

I know, I know. Don't feel bad, I didn't know what it was either. I don't remember ever having to compose an alpha-biography while in school. But then maybe I did, they just didn't have a haughty-taughty name for it.

But of course, being 10 and knowing everything, my daughter was more than happy to inform me of what an alpha-biography was. How silly of me!

She was assigned the letter "F". The title of her piece is "F is for Friendship". I immediately thought of "C is for Cookie, and cookie is for me" from Sesame Street. Fact is, that damn song is now still running through my head. Just what I need, the entire cast of Sesame Street in my head causing havoc. As if this damn flu wasn't enough.

To complete her assignment she sat down at the computer, pulled up Microsoft Word and started typing. 4 minutes later she said, "I'm done!"

"Done? Already? You just sat down!"

"Nope. Done. Spellchecked and everything.", she answered rather smugly.

So I sat down to proof read her work, perhaps give a few suggestions. Tweak it a little. But I wasn't needed. It was a little window into the world that I will be entering into in the near future. Pretty soon I'm sure that she won't need me at all. My checkbook perhaps, but I should be reveling in her independence.

This is what my daughter wrote in those 4 minutes...

"Friends are like pets. They come and they go all the time. Sometimes they stay your friend for most of your life, sometimes they don't. I once had a friend named Rebeca. She was my best friend when I was in Kindergarten. Now I don't even know where she goes to school. Does she remember that we used to go to school together? Or does she even think of me? I remember that she used to help me with my school work, tell me what the teacher meant, and also was a good friend. I know that some friends may not remember you, but you surely will hold them dear and you will treasure those memories forever.

Friendship is precious. You only can get a good friend a handful of times.Don't waste the good times and forget the bad ones. As Walt Disney once said, "You have to always let go of the past and keep moving forward."

Isn't she genius?

Isn't that fabulous?

I didn't help her, I didn't even know what she was writing. I didn't even help her with punctuation. I know I wasn't that smart when I was ten. Or that insightful. Or talented. Or sensitive.

Oh my.

But this is the same kid that right before school started told me she was "in dire need of a manicure."

Dire.

Need.

Manicure.

Need was probably in my vocabulary base, but manicure wasn't. Dire? I didn't even know the word until the band the 'Dire Straits'.

But she has a very good point. Let go of the bad, hold onto the good. Look forward, not back. Treasure your memories but don't torture yourself with bad ones. Good friends are precious. Forget about the rest.

Damn.

Not much I can say to top that.

I wish I were as smart as my daughter.

I sure am glad that she's around. Out of the mouths of babes we can all learn lessons.

Perhaps she can educate my sorry ass.

Out of the mouths of babes...

:-)

I shouldn't have done it...

Fall has arrived.

The trees are turning their yearly gorgeous shades of golds, reds and browns.

Pumpkins and cornstalks are on display. The sound of children screaming with delight as they jump into the piles of leaves raked high in the lawn resonates throughout the neighborhood.

It's a happy time of year. I love the crisp air that comes as the temperatures drop. Bringing out all the cozy sweaters and cashmere peacoats.

And then, there's the down side of fall.
As the cool weather creeps in, so does the flu...

We've been eating Vitamin C and B12's in this house like they're candy. I've been making mugs of my mothers 'cure all' citrus tea. Trying desperately to stave off the inevitable.

Even with all these precautions, I got it.

No, not the H1N1. Although just the thought of that scares me, but just the flu.
Regular ol' beat you to a pulp...flu.

My daughter had a physical about a week ago. Our doctor asked whether we'd like to have a flu shot. This was the basic flu shot, not the H1N1. That hasn't become available as of yet. I had her vaccinated but declined one for myself. The last time I had a flu shot, I was the sickest I've ever been in my life. So I politely declined his offer. It was tempting though, the idea of staying in bed, sweating and puking for a week. to make me stay in bed and puke for week.

I was working downtown the other day and a security guard came into the store to chat as he usually does. He informed us that they were giving out flu shots downstairs. Free.

I really wish he hadn't said that.
That damn 'Free' word...

I can't pass up free stuff. Even though I know that I'll pay for it in the end. Many times over.

And guess what? I got it. The shot.

And then I got it. The flu.
And boy, have I been paying for it in the end. The rear end.

Because not only am I sick, but I had to go to the doctor to treat me. Since my resistance was down, I got a virus on top of it which required a shot. In the arse.

Perfect.

So now my days consist of this routine:

I'm tired.

I'm cold.

I hurt.

My head feels like it weighs 40 pounds.

And then I get hot.

Then cold again. Jealous, aren't you?

I should've known better.

So for the time being I've got to put off the glorious walks through the metroparks taking in the sites of the trees. The voices of the children. The exuberance of the dogs racing after blowing leaves. I've got to put that all on hold until this thing passes.

The upside is that I haven't felt nauseous. Yet.

And my Internet is working perfectly. I have 800 channels of nothing to watch.

But every time I turn on the television or the radio, someone is talking about H1N1. It makes me a little worried. 6 cases in the school surrounding our community. I know that's not what I have (thank God), but if I'm this sick now with this strain, what would that flu be like?

If by chance the vaccinations do become available, I won't be going.

I'm sick enough already.

Unless it's free.

Please don't make it free...

I've not enough toilet paper or tissue handy.

:-)

the dreaded 3...

Yesterday was a dreary day.

The weather was cold and rainy, the skies dark with no promise of sun. It was windy and nasty outside, the kind of day Winnie-the-Pooh would call 'blustery'.

It was a day that would have been best served to stay in bed, add another layer of blankets and call a movie-pajama day.

Unfortunately, I couldn't do that. I had an obligations to attend to.

The blustery day was fitting for the afternoon schedule...the funeral of a close friends mother.

As many of you might know, my own mother passed away in July. After not missing many of our daily talks, I miss her terribly. So to spend the afternoon celebrating my friends mothers life and hear her daughter Sydney; sons Michael, Kevin and Chris emotionally speak, it was heart wrenching for me to say the least. Silvia's memorial service brought back the fresh memory of my mother's. I would have preferred to be somewhere else.

On the drive home I received word that Cousin Jackie had passed away just an hour before. At age 57.

3 weeks ago Jack went to see his doctor. He had been experiencing some severe back pain. They ran some tests. He left with the notice his body was filled with inoperable cancer. He was told he had 1-2 months to live.

How does this happen?

3 weeks ago he was a vivacious, laughing force of nature and now he's gone?

My best friend Chrissy's dad has also been diagnosed with cancer. Although the doctors prognosis with his treatment is favorable.

But all this death and sickness has me in a melancholy mood. I think that it's the facing your own mortality that troubles me.

I didn't have my daughter until I was 36. About the same age my mother was when she had me. So it's probable that my daughter may be dealing with my death at about the same age that I am now in dealing with my mothers passing.

It worries me.

Will she be ready? Emotionally, financially? Is there anything that I can do now to prepare her?

So many questions. Life old questions.

My dad never really liked celebrating his birthday. I know now it's because he doesn't like to have it broadcast that he's older. It's like tempting fate or the grim reaper.

"Hey! You! Grim! I'm a year older....what'ya think about that, big boy!"

I know now why he was always a little testy around that time of year. The best thing was to just pass him and say, "Hey pop. Happy B-day" and leave it at that. Maybe take him to lunch, buy him a bowl of soup. But don't. Ever. Make a fuss.

He doesn't like that.

Now my brother? He likes to celebrate birth months....

A day isn't enough time to complete the celebration! He used to send me notes reminding me months in advance that the national holiday was approaching. Or buy me a calender for Christmas with his birthday already marked. Along with prior dates....

* save money for Charles's birthday.

* special order Charles's birthday present.

* arrange for ticker tape parade.

You get the picture.

I stopped by the jewelry store on Friday afternoon. I bought a beautiful gold band. I'm having my mothers name engraved on it. That way symbolically be with me at all times. And when I think of her, I can just glance at my hand and she'll be there.

I cried when I ordered it.

Right there in the middle of the store.

Yesterday at the funeral, I cried. For Silvia and for my mom.

On the way home I cried for cousin Jack.

I went to the store and cried in the car on the way home.

My eyeballs are a mess. My tear ducts are being overworked. Maybe it's just me, but I can't take much more of this. There's that superstition that death travels in 3's. On one regard I sure hope that's true. Because I've reached my 3.

Could someone mark off that tally card, please?

I'm in need a little break here...

Perhaps you all join me and make a toast today in honor of our loved ones, past and present?

That would be fabulous.

And quite fitting.

So please accept my apologies for being in a down mood. But let's all lift our glasses and change that shall we?

Cheers!

Let's hope Grim will stay away from our doorsteps for a little while longer.

:-)

This post is in memory of my dearest mother.

I love you mom...