The Infamous Christmas Carol Quiz

Some people got snail mail cards this year.  If you weren't on the snail mail list, well, you either moved and didn't send me your new address, or you stopped sending ME cards, or you were never on my snail mail list for some other reason.  I sent out an all time low of 25 cards this year.  Drake claims I keep the post office in business not just for my Christmas cards, but also because of all the snail mail letters I write.  It's usual for me to send out an annual Christmas letter tucked into my cards.  I don't care if people make fun of those of us who send out the annual missive, I LIKE opening a Christmas card which contains either a printed letter or a handwritten note.  However, if you read blog, well, you know everything already.  

So, back by popular demand, is a family Christmas game:  The Infamous Christmas Carol Quiz.  I must confess here and now, #1 is a bit of a trick question since technically it's not a Christmas carol, but it IS Christmas music.

So, here's a repeat of the questions along with the answers.  And, yes, there's no #3.  I rearranged the quiz, and somehow #3 got lost in the shuffle.  Get over it.  Ho. Ho. Ho.

Christmas Carol Quiz

1. The two room apartment of a psychiatrist. 2. May the Deity bestow an absence of fatigue to happy male humans 4. Sir Lancelot with laryngitis. 5. A B C D E F G H I J K M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z. 6. Present me naught but dual incisors for this festive Yuletide. 7. The smog-less bewitching hour arrived. 8. Exuberance to this orb. 9. 288 Yuletide hours. 10. Do you perceive the same longitudinal pressure which stimulate my auditory sense organs. 11. The December mythical being is due in this burg. 12. Stepping on the pad cover. 13. Four legged boozer named for silent film heart throb. 14. Far back in a hay bin. 15. Leave and do an elevated broadcast. 16. That exiguous hamlet south of the holy city. 17. Hitherward the entire assembly who are loyal in their beliefs 18. Listen, the winged heavenly messengers are proclaiming tunefully. 19. A joyful song relative to hollow metallic vessels which vibrate and bring forth a ringing sound when struck. 20. As the guardians of little woolly animal's protected their charges in the shadows of the earth. 21. Frozen precipitation commence 22. Obese personification fabricated of compressed mounds of minute crystals. 23. Oh, member of the round table with missing areas 24. Boulder of the tinkling metal spheres 25. Vehicular homicide was committed on Dad's mom by a precipitous darling 26. Tranquility upon the terrestrial sphere. 27. We are Kong, Lear, and Nat Cole 28. Cup-shaped instruments fashioned of a whitish metallic element 29. Natal celebration devoid of color, rather albino, as a hallucinatory phenomenon for me. 30. Our fervent hope is that you thoroughly enjoy your yuletide season 31. Parent was observed osculating a red-coated unshaven teamster 32. Diminutive Percussionist 33. Oh small Israel urban center 34. Behold! I envisioned a trio of nautical vessels.   35. K.O. the aisles STOP READING - THE ANSWERS ARE NEXT! ANSWERS 1) Nutcracker Suite 2) God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen 4) Silent Night 5) Noel 6) All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth 7) It Came Upon A Midnight Clear 8) Joy to the World 9) 12 Days of Christmas 10) Do You Hear What I Hear? 11) Santa Claus Is Coming To Town 12) Up On The House Top 13) Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer 14) Away In A Manger 15) Go Tell It On The Mountain 16) Oh Little Town of Bethlehem 17) O Come All Ye Faithful 18) Hark The Herald Angels Sing 19) Jingle Bells 20) As Shepherd's Watch Their Flocks At Night 21) Let It Snow 22) Frosty the Snowman 23) Oh, Holy Night 24) Jingle Bell Rock 25) Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer 26) Peace on earth 27) We Three Kings 28) Silver Bells 29) I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas 30) We Wish You A Merry Christmas 31) I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus 32) Little Drummer Boy 33)  O Little Town of Bethlehem 34) I Saw Three Ships 35) Deck the Halls

Happy Holidays

Well, it's Ho, Ho, Ho time again, or Bah, Humbug depending on your attitude.  I'm an HHH person while my ever lovin' is a BH guy.  It's still a wonder to me that any woman isn't Bah, Humbug by December 26th.  I think it's because we don't have the luxury.  Let's face it:  Christmas wouldn't happen without us.  Let's take a little quiz:  In your family.....

1) Who's buying the gifts for:
                                              a)  the kid(s)
                                              b)  the in-law's or parents
                                              c)  the other relatives
                                              d)  the teacher(s)
                                              e)  the co-workers
                                              f)  the friends (oh scratch that -
                                                   most men don't have friends)

2)  Who's planning the holiday menus?

3)  Who's doing the lion's share of the decorating?

4)  Who's making holiday travel plans?  Who's packing for the  kid(s)?

5)  Who's sending out any Christmas mail?

6)  Who's wrapping almost everything?

I think I've made my point.

I will accept many of these jobs have gotten much much easier since the advent of delivery and the INTERNET.  You will not hear a single peep against that wonderful tool by any woman old enough to remember the bad old days.  Hit the rewind button...

It's 1980.  Need to Christmas shop?  You have two choices:  Go to the store/mall with your handwritten list (if you were smart) and make your shopping chores one massive all day event with several trips to your car to stash the loot.  At the end of the day with aching feet and a splitting headache from the constant Christmas tape in the mall, you promise yourself you will not buy another gift.

A second strategy was to have a crystal ball in July and attempt to get your Christmas shopping out of the way, so you wouldn't be so freakin' crazy in December.  This plan was about 75% effective.  I was an early shopper, but even I realized you just couldn't get ALL your gifts for Christmas during the summer - wrong clothes for one thing.  However, you did get bragging rights.   On December 10th the dialogue could go like this:  "How much do you still have left to do for Christmas?"  "Oh, I've been ready since July."  Then you would get a look of pure hatred.

Another little hitch in the early shopping strategy was if you started early enough, you had to resist all the catalogs which would begin to pour into your house beginning October 1st.  Sometimes I would have forty or fifty different catalogs by December 1st. The more people you bought gifts for, the more catalogs you would wind up getting in the mail.  I had professional friends (who made money in their jobs) who would collect over a hundred during the holidays.

Just to clarify:  To order out of a catalog, you could fill out the paper order form in the center of the catalog, cross your fingers and snailmail the form. OR you could call the toll free 1-800 number and deliver all the catalog item numbers together with names, addresses, etc by phone.  An 800 number was important because no one ever called long distance voluntarily unless someone was born or died.  Ma Bell (what we used to call AT&T when they were the one and only phone company) charged through the nose for long distance calls. 

Hickory Farms as well as Harry & David pioneered catalog food.  Hickory Farms was heavy on meat and Harry and David were heavy on fruit wrapped in gold tin foil.  Every grandmother who had out of town family would wind up with summer sausage and tiny blocks of cheese in four flavors together with those little strawberry hard candies and/or four rock hard pears wrapped in foil.  Considering the food gift wasn't more bath cubes (yes, those were a 'thing'), well 99% of these grannies were happy women.
 
Want to send flowers to someone in 1980?  Well, telephone your local florist or stop by and laboriously print out all your addresses from your paper address book you toted around everywhere beginning Halloween for them to screw up as they relayed the orders around the country via land line telephone calls to other florists (AKA:  FTD).

Surprisingly, Christmas tree purchase and decoration are still pretty much the same as 40 years ago.  You go to 'your' Christmas tree lot, pick one, and tie it onto the top of your car, or if you live in NYC, you recruit someone and the two of you carry it home by hand.  The crazy tree lights are still the same except they are miniaturized.  In 1980, you could still find a string of lights in your cardboard Christmas boxes with bulbs the size of a newborn baby's fist.  These came in a tasteful variety of primary colors.  They would also generate enough heat to allow you to lower the thermostat.  You might even find original 'bubble' lights in your box which only had a 50/50 chance of catching fire - but boy, they made a statement on your tree.  In 1980, you did see a big uptic in fake Christmas trees.  They had evolved enough, so if you squinted, they actually looked like real trees.

I think women created more home made gifts in 1980.  This is just anecdotal, but my reasoning is there were fewer women in careers and more in jobs.  You left a job and never gave it another thought until you had to punch in again.  Also, women with careers make MONEY, and thus, while they have less time off work, they have more income to buy gifts and don't have to create them.  When I was teaching, I worked in a school with fourteen teachers, three administrators, one custodian, three cafeteria people, and three support staff.  So, of course, one December I made 25 jars of homemade jelly.  Zounds!   It only took me two years to brighten up and figure something else out on the work gift front.   

There were also Secret Santa gifts, Angel Tree gifts, Girl Scout gifts, Teacher gifts, and Advent gifts at church.  There was money for the paperboy - yes, everyone read a newspaper which was delivered to your door.  There was money for your postman, and depending on your town's custom, for the garbageman.  No, I am not kidding.

Then, there was the holiday food you were expected to take to a plethora of parties:  office, neighborhood, church, and school if you had kids.  Mostly, it had better be homemade or very, very well disguised, so it looked homemade because in 1980 women were still apologizing for WORKING OUTSIDE THE HOME.  To this day I can still make ten kinds of holiday cookies.  I used to set aside an entire Saturday in December to just make cookies.

Shall we talk about snail mail?  One Christmas chore was 'going to the post office' usually multiple times and mailing both gifts and Christmas cards.  At my peak I sent out over 100 Christmas cards.  And, until 2000, I hand wrote a letter for any card that went 'out of town'.  Each card was hand signed, hand addressed, and you still licked stamps.  GRRGH - what your mouth tasted like after licking a zillion stamps.

Gradually, my Christmas chores have lessened as we have all come to the realization we have too much 'stuff'.  We try for consumable gifts in our family which simplifies shopping immensely.  I'm consciously trying to not just cover Cedric in presents.  As any grandparent knows, saying 'no more' is truly hard.  I'm also happy to say this year my charitable contributions will come close to equaling my other purchases.

When I look back, I ask myself what should I have done differently?  Mostly, concentrating more on being 'in the moment' instead of being obsessed with meeting other people's expectations.  Now, I'm always going to have a checklist and a schedule because I'm a classic Type A, but the internet and delivery allows me to simplify both.  I can send flowers, food, presents and anything else with much much less effort.

I've learned it's not the end of the world if it's not homemade, so I save my craft skills for stuff I get pleasure making - like a Christmas tree shirt using yoyos and buttons for Cedric.  I have an inflexible policy every child gets at book for Christmas and birthdays.  I shop for calendars and special greeting cards like other people shop for diamonds.  My Christmas card list is whittled down to people who really care they get a snail mail card.  I love e-cards with a special message for the rest of the world.  A wonderful Christmas is going to happen because I put out a lot of effort, but nowadays not so much effort that I'm frazzled for much of December.

Even in this age of the internet, rethink.  Simplify your holiday routines, and I guarantee you will enjoy yourself more.  Happy Holidays!     

Starting the Second Year

We're starting into Cedric's second year.  Big sea changes are in the works.  First, but not foremost, he's on the verge of walking.  This is the equivalent in toddler land of getting your driver's license.  Just as nothing is ever the same once a teen can drive, well, nothing is ever the same once a kiddo learns to walk.  This momentous event is being welcomed by his daily caretakers since it's just a hop skip and jump to learning how to walk up and down the 13 steps from the apartment to the ground.  He already weighs 23 pounds.  Try carrying that up and down 13 granite steps every time you want to leave the house.  Drake is currently doing all the body lugging since he's always worried I'm going to hurt my back.  However, I can plug in my audio book and wait however long it takes Cedric to walk up and down those steps.  

The biggest sea change in his life is his emotions are starting to come on-line.  And, of course, he has no clue how to handle them at all.  Currently, he's just riding them out.  For example, we have this silly book about a worm driving an apple car on the highway.  C is into vehicles of all types, so he thinks this book is the bees knees.  We've read it, oh, about fifty times.  This week something different happened.  At the end of the book, the apple farmer, Mr. Frumble, accidentally dumps his entire truck load of apples onto the highway.  I said to Cedric (for the first time), that Mr. Frumble was mad and sad because all his apples spilled.  Cedric started crying.  His little face just puckered up and actual tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.  It sort of took me by surprise.  We've read this book so many times he recognizes all the characters, but I didn't realize he was starting to empathize with them.  This little incident was a great wake up call.  I'm going to have to be alert for this sort of thing just suddenly popping up.

After almost six months of 'going back to work' as Drake calls it, I'm finding myself in better shape than I've been in for years.  I can pretty easily walk in excess of two miles a day.  My feet still hurt, but my back is OK with that kind of stress.  The arthritis in both my shoulders has improved but worsened in my hands.  I still dislike getting up at the crack of dawn - literally, and I don't like living in the Eastern time zone.  The sports are all screwed up.  For instance, 'night time' sporting events don't even start until about 8:30pm.  When you go to bed around 9:00pm, well, it doesn't leave much time to enjoy a game.   Since that's pretty much all the TV we watch, I spend a lot of time reading.    

At one year shy of 70, I'm finding my energy levels stay pretty tapped out.  C is just as smart (maybe smarter) than his mother, and she's no slouch in the brains department.  He likes constant challenge, new things, with lots of stimulation and repetition.  Plus, he does better on a pretty rigid daily schedule because without it, he has sleep difficulties.  And now, he 'talks' to us constantly and expects answers!  He's just dying to talk and be understood.  There's high frustration including saying whatever he's trying to communicate louder and louder when we don't 'get it'.  

He understands all the routine things we talk about, as well as some we didn't realize he knew.  (Example:  Last week, Drake casually mentioned at breakfast that perhaps it would be a good day to go to the playground.  Cedric, sitting between us in his highchair IMMEDIATELY began saying 'SW', 'SW' [his word for 'swing'] and in case we didn't get it, he started making the swinging motion with his body.)  We didn't know he knew the word 'playground'.  Obviously, another word to add to the 'spell it' list since delayed gratification is definitely not in the wheelhouse, and it's never too cold to 'swing'.

Nose frozen?  No problem, push it again

Most child rearing 'things' are pretty much the same.  There is better engineered equipment and tons of it.  You can overkill on baby equipment.  And, once the electronic component is added, well, what can be bought is pretty intimidating.  C's parents have done a good job at not getting carried away with 'stuff'.  First, there's no place for a lot of it in a NYC apartment, and second no real need for most of it.  So, we work with the basics:  high chair, stroller, crib, baby carrier, & changing table.  Playpens are definitely gone as a staple other than something to sleep in at Granny's house.  

What's really interesting is how the toys are pretty much the same as thirty years ago:  blocks, wooden puzzles, stacking sets, shape sorters, books, little cars, dolls, and stuffed animals.  There's still a woeful lack of toys for the one to two year old age group.  And, I'm having the same problem I did when raising Sarah:  Big ideas but not the physical coordination to execute the ideas.  He's ready for some toys labeled for two to three year olds, but he can't manipulate them, and sometimes, he can't resist putting them in his mouth.  (Boy, will I be glad when that impulse passes!)  A new axiom has entered our language:  "Try again".

He's spent days learning how to manipulate the sink stopper into a tiny hole

One thing is different - awareness of how pervasive gender stereotyping is part of our culture and trying not to always fall prey to it.  Think of it this way:  Blue for boys, but NEVER pink.  Dolls for girls, but NEVER for boys.  So many toys are gender differentiated.  Cedric already shows zero interest in stuffed animals or dolls.  He likes wheels and vehicles. 

Pointing out the 'excavator' on his shirt

His favorite is a construction vehicle:  an excavator.  He even tries to say it.  He insists with all the body language he can muster to stop at any construction site in which an excavator is working.  

We are asking ourselves how much have we subconsciously directed him toward wheels and vehicles?  According to research, by the time he's two years old he will 'know' which toys he's supposed to play with and which are designated for girls.  There's even very little gender neutral clothing.  The bottom line is we don't care that he likes wheels, but we are going to be certain he can tap into his feelings and express them.  In Cedric's world, little boys are encouraged to cry when sad.

It's also much easier to get ready for an outing with a baby in a more temperate climate.  We have to bundle ourselves up, and bundle up a third person who has to be 'dressed' in multiple layers,  carried down the above mentioned 13 steps, then 'bagged' in the stroller.  And if it's raining/snowing, well, then you have to cover the entire stroller with kid inside in a clear plastic overlay.  Putting mittens on a one year old is an art in itself.  And don't get me started on shoes.  In NYC, people leave their outdoor shoes at the door.  The streets are filthy with dog urine and fecal matter as well as ordinary human trash.  No one, much less someone with a baby on the floor, wants that dirt in the house.  In addition to sweaters, fleece, coats, mufflers, hats, and gloves, you have to change into your outdoor shoes at the door.     

Another huge difference is the constant recording of his growing up.  There's probably a picture or a video recording  for every day of C's life especially since we've become his caretakers.  His parents are both eager to see these little vignettes of his day, so we try to oblige.   Using the little hand held computers we all have which are video recorders as well as cameras,  it's so easy to document a kid even a codger like me can do it.

Granny, the codger, and Cedric, the one year old

This is all a bright new world for Drake, and I'm grateful he's getting the birds eye view of what the nuts and bolts are all about in child rearing.  He's been appalled at the constant demands which occur over and over throughout the day.  We feed him and clean up after the food three times a day.  And not just dishes, but the floor too.  He's still in diapers, so there's that fun.  There's lots more laundry and lots more floor care.  C doesn't have quite enough teeth to just eat 'regular' food, so it's difficult to try and present appetizing meals even though his mother works like a Trojan making special food to give us choices.  Like I said:  Relentless.  

On the plus side, C's got some new nuance to what he can do or who he is every single day.  It's thrilling to watch him toddle six steps.  It's amazing to hear him try for a new 'word'.  It's satisfying he knows all his colors and shapes and is already thinking about numbers.  And, he's developing his persona as a 'helper'.  He thinks socks are his personal territory when they come out of the dryer.  He's also being trained as a baseball fan.  His Texas Ranger's cap which is just like Grandad's is a big favorite.  

The 'has been' and the 'new prospect'

 Starting into the second year is going to be full of challenges.  Most of them will be all about managing not C but my own resources.  I'm suspecting my body is going to give out long before I'm really ready to leave this job.    

Squirrel Relocation

For those of you who have been reading along for a zillions years, I just wanted to let you know I've heard from the Intrepid Pigeon Fighter.  He was called in to consult on a new urban animal problem. It's squirrels.

Yes, I said squirrels.  He calls them rats with fluffy tails, but I think that's a bit harsh, don't you?  It turns out a close friend of his has a massive squirrel infestation in the numerous oak trees surrounding her house.  The problem is the squirrels discovered a heated attic was a superior dig to a ball of leaves, mud and spit wedged in the crook of a tree.  Isn't that just a big surprise. 

It turns out squirrels are terrible tenants.  They leave acorn shells everywhere, and don't even get me started on their toilet habits.  If you could overlook their sloppy housekeeping and lax attitude toward feces, it's when they get drunk on acorn tannins and binge out on the house wiring which makes these medium sized rodents tenants from hell.

I did a little research, and it turns out the Intepid Pigeon Fighter is scientifically correct:  Squirrels are rodents.  Their part of the rodent family tree includes marmots, guinea pigs, chipmunks, and prairie dogs.  What really surprised me was to discover squirrels have an Air Force - there are ground squirrels, tree squirrels, and flying squirrels.  You can recognize the ones who fly since they have those cool flight jackets with little wings pinned to the shoulders. The others are just flight mechanics and control tower geeks.  Even if flying squirrels have an element of cool, IPF's friend shouldn't have to share her house with squirrel slobs.  I mean, it's not like she advertised on Craig's List for roomies.

The IPF's friend did manage to finally get the original house squirrels evicted, but after the eviction, every time she went outside and looked up into her trees, she could see the squirrels plotting to reinstate themselves in her attic.  It was time for drastic measures.  She called in the Intrepid Pigeon Fighter for a consultation.  First, he suggested she rent a cherry picker and coat the trees with tasty poison.  She tactfully pointed out while the squirrels would be toppling dead out of her trees, so would all the birds.  She doesn't have a thing against birds. 

He made another drastic suggestion:  Shoot them out of the trees.  He keeps a gun totin', beer drinking buddy on his Rolodex just for emergencies like this.  (Yes, I said Rolodex.  The Intepid Pigeon Fighter thinks all this silly electronic stuff will eventually fade away, and he'll still have his trusty Rolodex. That's another whole topic - back to the squirrel problem.) 

The plan would be for Deadeye to shoot the squirrels out of the trees.  He'd do the job just for the cost of the bullets and all the light beers he could drink while shooting.  Then, the IPF would jump into action.  In his plastic rain poncho and rain pants, with his hands sheathed in a pair of yellow latex kitchen gloves, he would pick up all the dead squirrel bodies and load them into double strength trash bags.  Then, it would just be a matter of buying a jumbo sized plot at the local pet cemetery.  Whether or not to have a funeral service would be at his friend's discretion.  While this would certainly be a squirrel problem solution,  the IPF's friend wondered aloud if there might be a tiny little problem with shooting off a gun inside the city limits. 

Grudgingly, the Intrepid Pigeon Fighter got on board with his friend's totally unorthodox approach:  Humane traps with peanut butter bait paired with re-location.  Ten miles from the friend's house is Turkey Mountain.  It's a wilderness area which is home to a gorgeous squirrel condominium development.  I mean, it's squirrel heaven:  large nut bearing trees, moss covered ground which means cushioned landings for their air force, a seasonal swimming pool/ice rink and best of all:  no cars.  You just can't teach squirrels to look both ways when they cross streets, and a lack of cars cuts down on squirrel funerals.  Now, if the squirrels can just get the  Pecan Processing Plant they've been negotiating for, Turkey Mountain would be perfect.

This plan does require quite a bit of work.  We are talking  MAJOR OPERATION:  Sneak out in the dead of night to set and bait the trap(s).  Up at dawn lurking with binoculars for reconn.  And, then, loading any trapped squirrels into her car and driving them to the Turkey Mountain condos.  The squirrels are fighting back.  They now won't touch bargain basement peanut butter; they've started holding out for organic.  And, she had to argue long and hard with the Squirrel Negotiating Committee to obtain the agreement their members wouldn't try to dig up and take all their buried acorns before relocation.  It's become a battle of wits, but she's winning. 

Having not heard from his friend all summer, the Intrepid Pigeon Fighter was happy to receive a call this week with an update.  The friend was crowing she'd relocated 38 squirrels and counting.   The Squirrel Negotiating Committee is satisfied with the new Turkey Mountain condos, and they've formed a Welcome Wagon group for the newcomers. 

Now, there are plans afoot for the IPF to start a new small business:   HAVE SQUIRRELS?  WILL RELOCATE.  Of course, the Intrepid Pigeon Fighter will need to attach a big plastic squirrel to the top of his car.  It's free publicity, baby.  I wonder what he's going to do with the big pigeon he usually drives around with. 

 
   

Weather Girl

Well, you can take the girl out of Oklahoma, but, well, you know the rest.  I've been fleeing Oklahoma most of my life.  Early on it was the provincial aspects.  In 1972 there wasn't really any great art - not according to my limited 22 year old perspective.  It wasn't until eons later I realized the wealth of Native American art the state possesses. Gilcrease, in my hometown of Tulsa, is a small museum dedicated to Native American art and is considered one of the finest in the country.  The ballet was (and is) woeful, and the theater offerings not much better.  Most cultural events still arrive and leave sometimes after giving only a single performance.

Perhaps that longing to see the great paintings of the world and to watch great dancers and actors live is one of the reasons I've been so delighted to live in NYC.  This Saturday we are headed to the New York City Ballet to see a performance of 'Jewels', a famous ballet choreographed by George Balanchine.  He's probably the most well known ballet choreographer of the 20th century.

All of that aside, what utterly amused me is today I wore a sweater in September.  It was 55 degrees when I took off for the store this morning at 8:00 am, and even as hot natured as I am, that was distinctly chilly.  Growing up in Tulsa, it was often chilly in the mornings in late September.  (This was prior to the warming trend that is currently assailing all of the continent.)  That chill is the reason none of my schools were air conditioned.  School didn't ever start until the Tuesday after Labor Day, and if you sweated the first few weeks, well, kids could just suck it up since sweater weather was just around the corner.

If I'm wearing a sweater in September before my birthday, I'm beginning to comprehend my daughter's comment that I was going to need 'over the ankle' snow boots for the coming winter.  I think I'm in denial.  The last time I experienced WINTER with a capital W was when I lived in Oklahoma while at college.  Believe me, Norman (home of Oklahoma University) wind chill hovered below freezing for way, way too many days.  Man, was I ever glad I owned a 'maxi coat' - a short lived fashion trend of the early 70's in which winter coats hit your ankles.  These long coats were the only really practical solution to problem of winter temps and mini skirts. {Aside:  To those too young to remember, a proper mini skirt hit just below your butt curve, and cold air would cause goose bumps in unexpected places.  FYI mini skirts fueled the take off of panty hose.}

There was certainly never anything even remotely approaching winter in either Houston or New Orleans which were our homes for about 20 years.  Shoot, there wasn't even four distinct seasons in those towns - just horribly hot and humid and mildly hot and humid.  It wasn't until we moved to Hurst, Texas (between Dallas and Fort Worth) that I even saw a turned leaf.  There are four seasons there - but winter lasts one month.  Not snow boot weather.

In New York you walk everywhere, or at least walk to transit to get to your destination.  I can see that waterproof is going to be a necessity since I've already seen 4" deep water at the intersections during rain.  I've been investigating.  Apparently, there are 'rain boots'.  These are waterproof shoes - Sperry has been making this type of shoe since rich people started boating.  These shoes have sort of slopped over into urban wear.  They can be low cut or above the ankle.  These also come in the snow boot variety which is different from rain shoes in that there's a faux fur or flannel lining.  There are also galoshes which are all rubber boots similar to the child's version.  Basically, they just keep your feet dry except when they sweat because, well, they are rubber.

My plan is to try on snow boots some time next week at the DSW, and then decide.  Naturally, this will be torturous because of my damn feet.  Hopefully, I can find something round toed that doesn't cost a zillion or even half a zillion dollars.  I don't want to be stuck with a pair of shoes I MIGHT wear once a year after this grand adventure comes to a close.

So, one more thing to be fascinated about up here in NY - the weather which is the result of a different weather pattern than what I'm used to.  At least I'm not having to keep an eye out for tornadoes, and the ragweed is mild rather than virulent.  Always a silver lining.

P.S.  UPDATE:  I bought calf high, waterproof, faux fur lined snow boots with a zipper down the side for easy on/off.  WOW!  I can't believe it.

Coney Island

As you can see, Coney "Island" is now a misnomer.  It was divided from the Brooklyn mainland by a slender creek which was continually accumulating silt.  Gradually, the slender sliver of water between the mainland and this western most barrier island of Long Island became a land fill.  Coney Island became not an island at all, but a peninsula which hangs off the south end of Brooklyn like a dangling foot.  The island was discovered in 1609 by Henry Hudson, the English explorer who spent much of his exploration time looking for a sea passage across Canada and the northern United States to China.  Geography of the Earth was a little sketchy in the 17th century.

However, it was the Dutch who originally settled the New York City area, and the name 'Coney' is thought to be a English corruption of the Dutch word for rabbit.  Truthfully, though, no one really knows this for a fact.  Today, Coney Island is a Brooklyn neighborhood of about 30,000 people.  The southern shore of the island has been a seaside destination for all of New York City since the mid 1800's.

The Coney Island heyday began in 1880 and continued until post WWII.  Coney Island amusements represented the change in the leisure activities of Americans.  People immigrated from overseas, or left rural areas, and flocked to the cities.  19th century/early 20th century urbanites had no desire or even ability to 'sit on the front porch' during their limited leisure hours.  Huge numbers of the New York City population were desperate to escape their tenements, especially during the hot New York summers.  Large urban parks as well as large mechanized amusement parks showcasing electric lights, and other marvels of the roaring Industrial Revolution were constructed all over the country in response to the thirst for leisure entertainment. 

The three amusement parks (Luna, Dreamland, & Steeplechase) on Coney Island represented the pinnacle of amusement parks of the era.  Adding the seashore into the entertainment mix made Coney Island a 'must go' destination. Completion of the Brooklyn Bridge as well as electric trolleys and finally a subway line opened up Coney Island to all of New York City.  A boardwalk system was completed in order to disperse the large crowds flocking to the island.  We walked along the Rigelman Boardwalk completed in 1924. 

In addition to the savory entertainments, Coney Island was also home to numerous brothels and gambling halls during the late 19th/early 20th century.

The post war suburban flight together with expanded leisure opportunities sent the Coney Island amusement parks into a long slow decline.  Today,  there has been a recent revival of the amusement parks on Coney Island due largely to a new minor league baseball stadium as well as the revamping of the New York Aquarium.  The beach looks well clean, groomed, and it's even handicapped accessible.  And, there's lots of neon and fast food opportunities all along the boardwalk.

Luna Amusement Park

Drake standing on the Boardwalk looking out over the Atlantic Ocean

Today, Coney Island is known as the home of Nathan's Famous Hot Dogs.  This company has been selling hot dogs since 1916 out of the same location.

Of course, we had to eat here.  Drake went for the hot dog, which is a recipe devised by Nathan's wife in 1916, and still made exactly to that recipe today.  The french fries were fresh cut and the onion rings perfect.  No wonder these folks are still in business.  Each 4th of July there's a 'hot dog eating' contest which is baffling and nauseating to me, but it's wildly popular.  The current champ ate 71 hot dogs this year.  (Barf!)

This is a fascinating place.  You can feel the 19th century working class marveling at the wonders in the amusement parks and the excitement of the side shows, the barkers, the moving pictures, and the carnival atmosphere which was available any day you caught the trolley to the island.  Today, the atmosphere is more sedate and in many ways less exciting, but it's still like a carnival, and it's still available any day you catch the Q or B Subway lines to their southern terminus.  

As always, there are pictures

https://photos.app.goo.gl/G2EmBBFbLf8Esum97   

 

Broadway

There's no finer live acting in the world than on Broadway from drama to comedy to musical theater.  The trick is to get tickets which don't require you to sell one of your children.  There's a thriving business based on getting 'discount Broadway show tickets', so you don't have to choose a child to sacrifice.

In 1955 the cost of a balcony ticket was $2.30 and an orchestra seat was $4.90.  Of course, gas was $.23 a gallon, and the average income was $4,137 annually.  The average Broadway ticket this year is $122.  The 2019 median salary for men was $51K (while women only earned 80% of that).  If you do a multiplier...., well, a Broadway ticket in the orchestra should cost about $50 a ticket.  However, if you want to see Jeff Daniels in "To Kill a Mockingbird" expect to pay about $400 a ticket.

Today, we went to see a Broadway show which debuted in 1943:  "Oklahoma!".  It ran for five years and grossed $7 million dollars.  The show was revived this year, and it is an electrifying re-imagination of this ground breaking show with book and lyrics by Rogers & Hammerstein.  "Oklahoma!" kicked off a collaboration between those two men which dominated Broadway throughout the 1950's.

The 2019 show included Tony nominated artists, as well as cornbread and chili served to the audience at the intermission.  Agnes DeMille's breathtaking choreography in the original version, which included ballet in the middle of a musical, was also re-imagined.  The re-imagination paid homage to Ms. DeMille, but also had a modern edge which worked.  This show ran THREE HOURS.  Unheard of in this day of 90 minute attention spans.   Basically, this was a wonderful performance in a venue which enhanced it.  (Circle on the Square Theater).

We managed to get half price tickets by taking the subway to the seaport ticket booth of TKTS yesterday.  These are the NY people who market tickets which haven't sold by the day of the performance.  You can get some incredible tickets if you are willing to attend the theater the same night you get the tickets or the next day matinee.  We paid 'half price' for our tickets - just about the price they should be according to the multiplier.

I know many people feel we are doing something with our lives which they don't understand.  (Believe me when I tell you there are days we don't understand why we are doing this.)  Our kiddos can certainly afford to pay for child care, but we are committed to getting our grandson off to a good start.  You only get that kind of care using someone who actually has a stake in the child's welfare.

As a perk of doing this incredible upheaval to our lives, we've decided not to miss all the opportunities which New York City offers.  Broadway shows are one of them.     

One World Trade Center Observatory

Back to our old touring ways.  C is in upstate New York with his parents on a week long vacation.  He went hiking and swimming today, so he's in high cotton. 

Drake and I are also ecstatic!  We get a week off - after our first time to keep C overnight, and for the weekend.

We thought about taking a cruise to Bermuda, but that's four days on a BOAT and three days on land - not my idea of a good time.  We also thought about going out onto Long Island, but instead we decided to play around Manhattan.  Believe me, you never, ever run out of new things to do.

Monday, we just rested and puttered.  Today, we took ourselves off to TKTS - the discount ticket outlet for Broadway shows.  There's one at the Seaport (far south Manhattan island - the Battery area).  It's also the World Trade Center area where the 911 Memorial and the Observatory on top of One World Trade Center.  We'd already been to the Memorial, so we decided to take in the Observatory because it was a bright and sunny day.

The Observatory is 1200 feet up.  100 stories above the street. 

There were wonderful views of the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island  

as well as the Brooklyn Bridge

Of course, the observatory is all about the views of Manhattan, New Jersey, and Brooklyn.

Check out the pictures:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/GBWwWEhSLFwiEmLdA

Oh, and we scored half price tickets to Oklahoma! at TKTS.  The show is a hot musical revival on Broadway.  

Off to the Met

We got a day off from this new job, and thus, we hightailed it to the Metropolitan Museum of Art since there were some wonderful new exhibits - including quite a bit of Oriental art.  The great thing about the Met is you go to see one thing, and something else pops up which is better than what you went to see.

This time that honor goes to "Essential Korea".  We just sort of wandered into these galleries on our way to the Kyoto exhibit.  It turns out the South Korean government sent some national treasures.  And, Korean art created in the 12th century looks like something turned out in 2019.  The clean, modern quality of this country's art was striking. 

We began with the moon.  The Met has an exhibit focusing on moon photography in honor of the 50th anniversary of the United States landing on the moon.  Prior to satellites, the best photos of the moon's surface were actually taken by a couple of Frenchmen in the early 20th century.  Those pictures were interesting from an historical point of view.

What was really amusing was the 1969 'console TV' in which Armstrong's first step onto the moon was being played in a constant loop.  People were sitting around and watching that TV just as people did 50 years ago.  I was working the graveyard shift at the nursing home the summer of 1969 and just by chance, the day/night of the moon walk was my day off.  Remember how dramatic it all was, and how it took hours and hours for that 'first step' to happen?

I also wanted to see the new contemporary art exhibition called "Epic Abstraction - Pollock to Herrera".  And, once more, something unexpected.  There was this absolutely phenomenal pink granite statue which was nine interlocking pieces held together by two pins.  Drake speculated the pins had to be on the bottom.  Pins sunk into the floor would hold the sculpture steady, so it wouldn't fall over.

Noguchi - "Kouros" - 1945

 I saw a new artist, Sam Gilliam, (well, he's new to me), who attracted my eye with his color palette. 

This is called "Whirlirama"

 And, to my delight there was an enormous piece by Louise Nevelson. (She's one of my fav modern artists.) She was a native New Yorker who took 'found art' to a new level.  Her pieces are instantly recognizable - they are all painted flat black and are assembled pieces of wood (and other stuff) she has 'found'.  All major museums in the United States own at least one of her pieces.  This piece was about 15' x 15' and incredibly intricate.  It took her 13 years to complete it, and she thought of it as her crowning masterpiece.  Upon her death, she willed it to the Met.  Her art is surprising and fun.

Mrs. N's Palace

What I thought would be the number one exhibit was basically the history of art created in Kyoto - the ancient name for modern Tokyo.  This exhibit was one superbly beautiful object after another including more priceless treasures sent over by Japan.  Here's one of my favorites 

 This is a document box from the early 1700's.  My picture doesn't really do it justice. 

There were several screens, but my favorite was this one:

 From this angle, there's a slight optical illusion.  It looks like you could 'walk across' this golden bridge.

There was also an exquisite kimono filled with hand embroidery.  Not surprising I was enamored with this piece. 

There are also some odds and ends of American decorative art. as well as Drake posing in front of a set of baseball cards which he swears he owned as a child.  (These priceless cards were tossed in one of their many family moves, and is, on occasion, still discussed.....)

As always there are tons of pictures

https://photos.app.goo.gl/GLyX4r2vbU6SaCzAA

I'm Standing Up

My platform is small.  The number of people who will actually read this silly blog is small.  However, unlike many I DO have this small platform.  For some time now I've been inching closer and closer to the realization we are running concentration camps at our Southwestern borders.  We call them 'detention camps', and we don't deliberately exterminate anyone.  However, if, let's say, children die in our custody; well, that's just their bad luck isn't it?

We've allowed an economic and race issue to overwhelm our societal moral compass.  Well, hey, it's REALLY about border security not economics and race, you say?  OK, I accept your premise.  Now, how do you justify the conditions in the camps?

The President and the Vice-President tell us that everything in the camps is just fine.  Well, it's not.  People are being held without adequate sanitary facilities.  People are being held packed into locked rooms so tightly that everyone in them can't even lay down to sleep.  Even if they could, there's no bedding.  People are being held without access to shower facilities for weeks.  Then, there's the children.  How are they about border security?  How is denying children basic living conditions ever OK?  And that's on top of separating them from their adult caretakers.

Well, obviously, "these people" (let's be sure and make them 'other' - not 'us') should just stay in their own countries.  My question is this:  How terrible must their living conditions be in their own countries to risk themselves and their children to come here.  In this day of instant access, do you think these immigrants seeking asylum don't know about the camps?  I guess even these deplorable camps are preferable to starvation, rape, torture and death, so they must not be so bad.  If you don't think so, then you haven't used your 'instant access' to hear or read about the facts.  Here's your chance:

https://www.usatoday.com/in-depth/news/politics/elections/2019/07/16/migrant-detention-centers-described-2019-us-government-accounts/1694638001/

https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2019/07/border-patrols-oversight-sick-migrant-children/593224/

Did you just skip over those links?  OK - fine.  Don't read about the camps.  Pretend not to know about them.  Here's another consideration.  Are we a religious nation or not?  We tell the world we are.   Most of us believe in God.  Most of us identify with the ethics espoused by the big three (Judaism, Christianity, Islam) when asked.  I am a Christian.  More specifically, I'm a Methodist.  My brand of Christianity speaks out against injustice by action.  This is my action since UMCOR (United Methodist Committee on Relief) isn't being allowed into the camps to bring relief even though they have been involved in humanitarian crisis around the world since post WWII.

I refuse to be silent and by my silence endorse the conditions at detention camps.  Stand up.  Tell your friends.  Ask your Congress person why they are letting this happen.  Stand up in your church and ask why are we letting this happen.  If you believe all the media is corrupt and with an 'agenda', well, here's some media it's pretty hard for a Christian to dispute:

"For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink.  I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.

They also answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?'

He will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'
(Matthew 25:42-45 - New International Version)

If you choose to do nothing because after all, you're only one voice and can't make a difference, then, so be it.  I don't believe that.  I stand with Edmund Burke:  "Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could only do a little."

Give a Girl a Day Off...

We got a surprise day off from the nanny gig last Thursday.  So, what would you do?  Well, we walked 3.8 miles and climbed 9 flights of stairs as we made our way via bus, subway, and foot half way across Brooklyn and two-thirds of the way up Manhattan to the West side of Central Park and back again.  That's 'museum mile' which per foot has to be my most favorite mile in the world.

We took a trip to the Guggenheim.  This is the first 'weird' museum ever built.  It was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright for the man who was the first American to collect modern art.  Guggenheim wanted a venue which would break all the museum building rules.  Well, he got one.  You either love this building or you hate it.  Here's what I mean:

Exterior of the Guggenheim 

Looking down on the six levels
all interconnected - a gigantic wheelchair ramp

Looking 'up' from the bottom floor

The view is of Central Park, but there are no windows.  Thus, there's no 'sunlight' to fade the art work.  The only natural light comes from the ceiling which is a humongous sky light. 

The sky light ceiling

We headed there to see an exciting new exhibition.  The Guggenheim asked six artists, who had previously exhibited at the museum, to dive into the collection and pick paintings and sculptures to exhibit using any criteria they wished.  Each level of the museum hung the choices of one of the six artists.  One floor was paintings hung 'salon' style of famous artists.  The catch was the paintings hung were not in the style for which each artist became famous.  For example:  Representational landscapes by Kandinsky (the first abstract artist).

We'd seen work by only one of the six artists - a Chinese guy who uses gun powder to 'paint' his pictures.  We actually saw a small exhibition of his work in Italy.

A Cai Guo Qiang 'gunpowder' picture -
he was the only artist of the six to hang some of his own work in his area

Another artist chose abstract expressionist paintings from the 1940's, '50's and '60's.  The modern female artist chose to display female artists from the Guggenheim collection.  Another picked collection pieces done in black and white.  Did I like every picture?  Nope.  Were there some jewels I'd never seen before?  You bet.  Some of you will not even bother to look at the pictures, but I urge you to do so.  There are some brilliant pictures and sculptures.    

You could see this exhibition in two ways:  You can gradually walk 'up' the six levels, or you can take the elevator to the top level and walk 'down'.  We chose 'up' because it's actually easier for me to walk up than down, especially if we are doing the walking in a leisurely manner.  ("Down" puts too much pressure on my fake foot joint.)

After touring the Guggenheim, we walked 500 feet down the street (in the pouring rain) to the Cooper Hewitt Museum of Design.  This is actually a Smithsonian museum, and it always has fascinating exhibits.   We were not disappointed this trip:  The museum was exploring design in nature.  This was an interesting concept.  One which captured my attention was the 'body burial suit' 

The dead body goes into the 'suit', and instead of a coffin, the 'suit' is buried.  The suit is sewn with some type of mushroom fungus which helps decompose the body.  The picture below shows vividly  what happens after burial in the suit.  This seemed to me to be an excellent idea, but I'd like my burial suit to be RED.     

You have to admit it's a novel idea. 

Without a doubt the goofiest exhibit was the one in which a man created artificial limbs for himself which ended in goat hoofs as well as an artificial stomach which could process grass.  Then, the joined a goat herd for three days; in essence, he became a goat.  Then, he wrote a book.  

I'm so intrigued about this guy; I'm going to read his book!

And, finally, I got to see an entire room of hand done French embroidery from the 18th century.  I was in heaven.  I got so enthused, I gave an impromptu lecture about hand embroidery to a group of  total strangers touring the exhibit.  I'm sure they thought I was a nut bunny.  They didn't run away, but I felt like an idiot afterwards.  Here's an example (not of my idiocy) but of the displayed embroidery.

This is a piece of fabric pre-embroidered by hand.  It's meant
to be cut into a vest to be worn underneath a waist coat

 If the day wasn't thrilling enough, we then took the subway during rush hour from the Upper West side of Central Park to Crown Heights in Brooklyn.  (Crown Heights is our neighborhood.)    If you think you see lots of different people on the streets, well intensify that by a power of ten and you have the subway.  There's no telling who or what you might see on a subway.

We managed to score seats early, so the trip of about an hour was pretty fascinating.  I kept thinking about all those movies of the 1950's (think Judy Holiday) where crowded subway cars are prominently featured.  Subways are the niftiest way to get around town.  There's one major exception:  Don't be on a subway during a New York blackout.  Actually, just try to be home during any major blackout - like we were last week when the blackout of 42 years ago was recreated in quite a bit of Manhattan - and not in a fun way.  We were lucky.  Our tickets to the Lincoln Chamber Music concert was the day AFTER the blackout, so we were unaffected.

I'd say we made proverbial hay with our day off.  As always, pictures links below for anyone who's interested.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/jF7x2s1fiVfcM3Yi8

https://photos.app.goo.gl/T82LQQpPSZvLEeWe6

  
 

Morphing into a Brooklynite

Pretty soon I'll just be a normal Brooklynite.  I'm already calculating whether to wait for transit or just say, "Forget about it - I'm walking!".  Today I walked 1.8 miles, climbed seven flights of stairs and rode on three different subway lines to get from my house to Lincoln Center. 

It's really hot and humid here.  After all it's a wet heat.  That's opposed to the 'dry heat' of the desert.  I had to laugh.  Today, the temp was 81 at 7pm.  A balmy evening in Arizona.  However, in Brooklyn the wet heat factor kicked in, and the 'real feel' temp was 86 with about 70% humidity - certainly edging out of balmy.  For those of you who don't know, 'dry heat' refers to the real feel of the temperature in the desert.  With 10% (or less) humidity a temperature of 108 has a 'real feel' of 100. 

I'm still sweating buckets here.  And believe me, after so much time in dryer air, I don't 'glow'; I sweat.  The highest summer heat hasn't even arrived yet!  Forget makeup.  One of my smartest buys was the dozen paper fans I bought from Oriental Trading Company.  It's really helpful all the buses and subway cars are heavily air conditioned.  It's just walking to them or waiting for them that's so hot.  I was in a subway car yesterday so frigid it was deja vu - back to a Houston shopping mall.  The sanctuary of the church I'm attending is NOT air conditioned.  In 1890, that technology didn't exist.  With the interior space of the sanctuary domed, I'm not even sure how you could retro fit it.  So, church is starting a hour earlier tomorrow to compensate for the summer heat.

I still talk to too many people.  The neighborhood is just full of people I want to get to know.  I was chitchatting with our concierge weekend relief person, and it turns out her young son is in the Air Force.  He's stationed at Corpus Christi.  Being a New Yorker, he doesn't have a driver's license.  He was complaining to his mother that he was the only person walking on the streets.  We both agreed he's going to have to cave and get not only a license but also a car. 

There's also a guy who wears a different hat every time I see him.  He parks a vintage black Cadillac on our block, and whenever I see him, he's always standing beside it.  First, we inclined heads.  Now, we're speaking.  I'm just hoping he's not the neighborhood drug dealer.  He's always sort of hanging around.  However, I've never seen him doing any 'business', so I'm probably just being paranoid.  More likely, he's an Uber driver.  Uber drivers are like bees that swarm around the streets.  Mostly, they drive black SUV's.

Today, I also saw our neighborhood homeless person.  He's a tall skinny guy with a beard halfway down his chest who is creating his own home in a 'nook' next to a building.  Last week he found a wooden kitchen chair painted turquoise in the trash.  Yesterday, when I went over to the grocery store (with my rolling cart), I noticed he had found a rectangular shaped sofa which he turned on its side bottom facing out, cushions facing in.  It's kind of a fenced off pod room.  Sadly, today he had a skillet and was beating on an cast iron fence as he walked down the street.  I'm guessing he's one of the mentally ill who's supposed to 'self medicate'.  What a sick joke.   

We also watched the Macy's Fireworks show live.  No, I didn't go down to the Brooklyn Bridge Park with the crowds.  We just went to our rooftop.  There were fireworks in every direction - mostly illegal ones, but we got to see enough of the Macy's show that I was completely satisfied.  There were about a dozen people on the roof, and everybody agreed this beat fighting the massive crowds on the East River waterfront. 

If you're into fireworks, well, here are my pictures.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/8nqugPZ3YWBGZYpA7 

Walking down the sidewalks here is always a treat. Today, I actually saw an Indian couple who were close to our age.  Mostly, there are young families, couples, and young singles.  We sort of stick out anywhere we go in the neighborhood.  I also saw a woman in a full burka walk by a woman in skin tight shorts with black spiked Mohawk hair and tattoo sleeves on both arms.  What a contrast!  If you just listen, you can hear several languages in a three block walk.

This week we hopped on a bus and went to a true Salvation Army Store.  It was in a warehouse (no a/c & hotter than blazes), but I was able to buy some extra glasses and a couple of coffee mugs without having to take out a loan.  Compared to my Sun City thrift stores, this place was really meager.  I was fortunate, they had everything I wanted. 

It's actually more fun to troll the stoops on trash day as you walk by, but there's no telling what you'll find.  Sarah found a tambourine for Cedric, and this week I found a Lonely Planet Guide for Budapest.  Who knows, maybe we'll catch a flight and head over one of these days.  We'll just jump on the B65 bus, get off in about 3 stops at Nostrand, walk one block to the Eastbound LIRR (Long Island Rail Road) and exit Jamaica to catch the air train to JFK airport - a piece of cake.