June | 2020 | dual personalities

June 30, 2020

“Thus we salute thee with our early song”*

by chuckofish

Today is the 332th anniversary of the day the Immortal Seven issued the invitation to William of Orange which culminated in the Glorious Revolution in England in 1689. One of the Seven was, of course, the OM’s ancestor Henry Compton. Perhaps we should watch The Magnificent Seven (1960) in honor of the occasion.

Perhaps you think I have gone ’round the bend, but, no, that is always how my mind has worked.

Today is also the birthday of John Gay (1685-1732), British Poet and Playwright. He is best known for “The Beggar’s Opera,” a ballad opera upon which “The Threepenny Opera” is based. Laurence Olivier filmed his version of “The Beggar’s Opera” in 1953 (his only musical film), and I think I may have to find it and watch.

At the very least, we should listen to “Mack the Knife” on repeat.

It is also the birthday of singer-songwriter Dave Van Ronk (1936-2002) upon whose life the movie Inside Llewelyn Davis (2013) is loosely based (according to Rolling Stone Magazine.)

So here’s something for your listening pleasure in honor of Dave–can’t help thinking the wee babes would really enjoy this.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9ce5GtjBss

So you see, everything is loosely based on something else. I am cool with it. And there is plenty to toast at the end of the day.

*John Milton, “Song on May Morning” (1632–33)

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June 29, 2020

“I’ll keep the path open, the path in my mind.”*

by chuckofish

I had a quiet weekend. It was hot and sometimes rainy, so I stayed close to home. But I ventured out to a couple of estate sales and had some luck. I found an antique/vintage highchair, of which I am in need since we sometimes have wee twins to dine…

I also rescued a needlepoint brick!

Anyway, I was pleased.

I also did some closet rummaging/rearranging and finished reading A Glassful of Blessings by Barbara Pym. Practically nothing happens in her novels, but she is such a good writer and her descriptions of the smallest interactions are so on target, that I find her books very enjoyable.

In my rummaging I found this little doll from the Soviet Union, which my mother told me she had bought with her pennies in Woolworth’s in the 1930s. It may have been the first thing she bought herself. She is small–only about 5 ” tall.

It appealed to her and she had kept it all those years and now I have kept it all these years. How different she is from all of Lottiebelle’s Disney princesses!

I watched Destry Rides Again (1939) which stars James Stewart and Marlene Dietrich.

Stewart is well cast as the initially misunderstood deputy who does not wear a gun. Dietrich, as usual, steals the show, and everyone is happy to let her. The supporting cast is strong. All in all, it is an excellent summer entertainment.

I fell asleep in the middle of most everything else I watched. Par for the course.

Now it is back to the salt mine of working remotely.

The lark is up to meet the sun,
The bee is on the wing,
The ant her labor has begun,
The woods with music ring.

Shall birds and bees and ants be wise,
While I my moments waste?
Oh, let me with the morning rise,
And to my duties haste. (Jane Taylor)

*Bob Dylan

4 Comments

June 27, 2020

Nature’s candy?

by chuckofish

I have returned from my morning walk and settled down with a cup of tea to write up this post. My life these last months has been so sedentary that I decided I had to take emergency measures; I vowed to take a walk first thing every morning, before I could talk my self out of it or the temperature rose high enough to give me a legitimate excuse. Two days and counting….

The week flew by, as they are wont to do, and the only thing I have to show for it is a fraught attempt to make pickled beets. I like beets and I’m not ashamed of it.

No one else in my family can stand them, so I’m on my own when it comes to eating them. The last time I got pickled beets from our grocery store they only carried ‘own brand’ and the product was disappointing. To top it off, I dropped the half-empty jar on the kitchen floor, sending glass and magenta beet juice everywhere. That was beet disaster #1.

Undaunted, I became determined to pickle my own beets and bought some fresh ones during my next visit to the store.

It isn’t really hard to make pickled beets: wash, top and tail them, and then simmer them for about 30 minutes. Let the beets cool before cutting them into smaller pieces.

Notice that white counter and the dangerous juice

Then it’s pickling time. Pour equal amounts of sugar, apple cider vinegar and water into a sauce pan (I used a cup of each, but next time I will use about half the amount of sugar) and then add a cinnamon stick, cloves, and whatever other spices you want. Bring to a boil and simmer gently for about 10 minutes.

That’s it. Cool, pour into an airtight container (you can discard most of the juice and all of the cinnamon and cloves) and store in the fridge. Easy peasy — at least I thought so until I tried to transfer the beets from the pan to the container. Then I spilled beet juice EVERYWHERE — on the counter, on the rug, on the wooden floor… Thus, I achieved beet disaster #2.

Dealing with beets in a mostly white kitchen is stressful. That lovely, magenta juice is apt to explode onto all surfaces — especially white counter tops and shirts — like so much blood splatter (sorry, I’ve been watching too many murder mysteries). Much as I like ‘nature’s candy’, I don’t know whether my nerves or, indeed, my kitchen can stand up to the stress of preparing them. Still, for lunch today I’m going to enjoy a salad with pickled beets!

I leave you with this charming poem by Mary Hayes from her book Vegetable Verslets published in about 1911:

Try some beets. You might like them, and the pun potential is exceptional!

8 Comments

June 26, 2020

“Forc[ed] to sing our songs in little rooms”*

by chuckofish

So another weekend is upon us. June is nearing its end! The year is already half over! Good grief.

But it is tiger lily season here in all its glory. And fireflies are back! Summer is definitely here in flyover country! I’ll toast that!

In other news, I liked what Paul Walker said in his daily devotional the other day:

Christ Church, Charlottesville, is taking its Sunday morning service outside this week. I don’t know if that means they will not be recording it. If so, I will miss them. But it is a good thing that more and more churches are getting back together in person. I salute them.

I liked this too, written by Sam Bush, who plays the guitar at the Christ Church services. (The bit by John Mulaney is pretty funny too. I haven’t watched SNL for 100 years.)

While rummaging in the basement, I found some smocked dresses made by my mother (and two store-bought) plus one made by my grandmother. I washed and ironed them this week and sent them to daughter #2 for Katiebelle.

Here’s Katiebelle’s Mommy wearing one of them!

I didn’t do anything else too interesting this past week. The OM and I watched Patton (1970)–all three hours of it!–and enjoyed it, but not that much. Patton ends on a depressing note. As usual, journalists come off badly.

We also watched The Train (1964) an American/French WWII film with Burt Lancaster getting to do all the physical stuff at which he excelled.

The story takes place in August 1944 when masterpieces of modern art stolen by the Wehrmacht are being shipped to Germany by train. The Nazi officer in charge of the operation is determined to take the paintings to Germany, no matter the cost (in other words, he’s a nut.) The French resistance members (led by Burt) save the paintings but at quite a loss of French lives, begging the question, is art worth human lives? The obsessed art-loving Nazi in this story would say, yes, without hesitation. But Burt doesn’t agree–very existential, and in black and white too (unlike the poster above, of course).

I will note that on this day in 1977 Elvis Presley held his final concert in Indianapolis, Indiana at Market Square Arena. We might want to watch an Elvis movie and raise a toast. Jailhouse Rock (1957) anyone?

Have a nice weekend!

*Billy Collins, “American Sonnet”

7 Comments

June 25, 2020

Three weeks and thriving

by chuckofish

This is our first week without a pediatrician’s visit to affirm us that we are doing a swell job of parenting, but we’ve gained enough confidence that we can tell for ourselves that the wee one is thriving. She eats, she sleeps, and now she plays (just a little bit)!

When the babe is awake, I do my best to get my mother on FaceTime so that she can catch a glimpse of her adorable namesake. Playtime usually only lasts a maximum of 10 minutes at this point, especially if it involves tummy time, so these calls are fleeting.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that Katiebelle is still tiny, as much as she’s grown up in these three weeks. (My mom kindly reminds me that my huge hands in photos provide useful perspective for this fact, as above.) Every day is a little different and some are harder than others, but you really can’t complain when you get to cuddle a sweetie pie like this one!

*Photo credits to DN, who does an excellent job capturing lots of footage of these early days

4 Comments

June 24, 2020

“Gotta get that fire, fire back in my bones.”

by chuckofish

Well, here we are on Tuesday evening again. I’ve returned to working in my office–although as soon as my calendar is clear for the day, I’m out of there. I find it difficult to sit in my office and “kill time” because I got very used to using that time for projects like stitching and reading. And somehow, I don’t think my co-workers would appreciate if they passed my office and I was in there working on my sampler.

But then again, one of my former co-workers found a coupon for Central Dairy (the ice cream place in Jeff City) that expires next week so he mailed it to us in the office. We err on the side of nice and not judgy here.

In other news, my mom and I ventured to an estate sale this weekend–I spotted a few old books in the photos online and I wanted to check them on day 2 (half-price day). Everything else in the house was the opposite of our style (I hesitate to declare it hideous, as we all have different taste), so I figured the books would still be there.

I was not disappointed. There are few things I love more than finding books like this for $1.50. And I feel like I have to hoard them now.

I’ve also been watching HGTV in the evenings during my “happy hour” aka glass of wine and apple with cheese time. I find the shows like Home Town and Good Bones enjoyable because they are focused on restoring homes in their towns to improve and revitalize neighborhoods. Home Town is a definite Fixer Upper knock off, but I don’t mind. Good Bones, which takes place in Indianapolis, is a little different because it features a mother-daughter pair of flippers. They impress me with their ability to get stuff done.

Anyway, I’m just trying to find joy each day. And be thankful for my job, my tings, and the freedom to drive home and see my family when I want. The little things aren’t so little!

*For King and Country

3 Comments

June 23, 2020

Loose in the joints and very shabby

by chuckofish

I found my Steiff animals packed away in the basement. Now what?

This weekend the wee laddie wanted to play with “Tiggy,” the Steiff tiger my father bought for me when I was born and which I had kept from my own children because they might harm him in some way. He went upstairs on a mission to find him, even though he had been told previously that Tiggy was off limits.

But I let the WL take “Tigey,” as he insists on calling him, down from his place of honor in my office. Daughter #1 said it was a good choice. Tiggy, she said, had no doubt been waiting 40 years for that Velveteen Rabbit moment.

“Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’

‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.

‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’

‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’

‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

–Margery Williams

I am a great one for saying we should all use the good china and the linen napkins, so why are the Steiff animals different?

4 Comments

June 22, 2020

i am a little church

by chuckofish

i am a little church(no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
--i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april
 
my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are prayers of earth's own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness
 
around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains
 
i am a little church(far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature
–i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing
 
winter by spring,i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)

–e.e. cummings

How was your weekend? The boy and daughter #3 brought the wee babes over for a frolic on Saturday morning to celebrate Father’s Day. They mostly played with daughter #1 who was home and happily accompanied them upstairs to explore. Funnily enough they had come over on Friday morning as well (so their parents could go sofa shopping without them) and I played with them upstairs. They reminded me of Goldilocks, wishing to try out all the beds in the house.

Not that they like to nap; they like to “pretend” to nap. When we were in my room, we discussed the wallpaper and how the scenes are Chinese.

Lottiebelle looked at it and thought and then said, “Panda bears are from China.”

https://gfycat.com/constantflusteredkouprey

Their father told me that when he mentioned to the wee laddie that Olympus Mons is the great mountain of Mars (they are very into planets), the WL said, “No, Daddy, Olympus Mons is a volcano.” Are these three-year-olds not amazing? These babes who weighed less than 1.5 1bs. at birth! Think about that for awhile.

Also, I will note, that they can now go up and down stairs without holding on to a railing while holding an armload of stuffed animals/and/or/cars. This is frightening to say the least.

Meanwhile the newest wee babe continues to thrive and gain weight.

It is fun and fascinating to watch these babes grow and learn and to see my own children as parents and aunts and uncles.

Meanwhile we amused ourselves by listening/singing along to a lot of Bob Dylan–always a stress reliever. We also watched The Detective (1968) with Frank Sinatra. (I had not seen it after all.) It may have been edgy in 1968 with its subplots involving homosexuals and a sex addict wife–but it is not now. Also Frank Sinatra phoned in his performance and was terrible, not to mention (way) too old for the part. Maybe it might have worked with Paul Newman or James Garner. Whatever.

I also did laundry, vacuumed, found some baby clothes my mother made for my children and washed them, and went to an estate sale where I bought some books and rescued a needlepoint pillow.

Not bad for a weekend. Now it is back to the salt mine of working remotely where I lift my diminutive spire to merciful Him Whose only now is forever. Have a good week!

5 Comments

June 20, 2020

Moving and shaking?

by chuckofish

Last weekend the DH and I got busy painting our son’s old bedroom. We took down the LOTR and Gladiator posters along with additional sundry pictures, washed and taped the walls, and got to work.

The carpet is not as bright, nor the room as small, as it looks.

Originally, the idea was simply to repaint the room white and put everything back, but as soon as I started painting I realized that the carpet sported too many tea stains to keep. Lacking the energy to come up with a new color scheme, we trundled off to the local home store and chose a suitable blue carpet. It’s more subdued as befits a grown-up room, but it is still blue. Expect ‘after’ pictures in early July.

Next I decided that the heavy, heavy desk had to go (that’s it in the photo above). After prolonged huffing and puffing, we managed to get it down the stairs and out to the curb where we plopped a “free” sign on it and abandoned it. Moving the desk is not a chore I’d like to repeat, but within 24 hours some enterprising citizen managed to maneuver it into his car. Success!

Still deluded as to my physical prowess, yesterday I helped our local food pantry move to a new, improved location. Of course, it was in the low 90s — a temperature guaranteed to make us cold-climate types wilt, and I did. The face mask didn’t help either, although now I feel more prepared to teach in one come August. What joy.

In other decorating news I ordered this material from Spoonflower.com to make into curtains for the kitchen and so add a little color.

Perhaps with a slightly more colorful rug and new curtains, the room will look less cold. I’ve put up a print to the right of the sink, but haven’t taken a photo yet. Stay tuned….

That’s my uninspired post for this week. I leave you with something to make you chuckle.

Have a great weekend!

3 Comments

June 19, 2020

“Only a dad, neither rich nor proud, Merely one of the surging crowd”*

by chuckofish

Another Friday rolls around…and just in the nick of time!

Father’s Day is this weekend so I was thinking about movies that my father liked and movies that we saw together. Of course, he was a big fan of the whole war movie genre. I remember going to see Patton (1970) with him at the Cinerama theater in the CWE. He loved it so much he went back to see it the next day (by himself).

I can’t say that I feel that strongly about Patton, but I wouldn’t be averse to watching it in honor of my father and all the other WWII vets who loved it too.

My father was also a big John Wayne fan, so anything from that genre would be suitable. My favorite memory of going to see a JW movie with him was El Dorado (1967) during the summer when my mother was back east with her dying mother. It was a real mood changer.

John Wayne in a war movie = bonus points.

My father also liked detective movies and we frequently went to see ones that in retrospect were no doubt too “adult” for my sister and me. The Detective (1968) with Frank Sinatra comes to mind.

I guess I’m adult enough to handle it now.

What movies do you remember watching with your father? The Fellowship of the Ring? Die Hard? Bullitt? All seven Fast & Furious movies?

The wee babes are coming over for a little visit on Saturday morning to frolic outside. They have lots of places to be this Father’s Day weekend, but we are happy to be able to celebrate the OM (“Pappy”) and the boy, their wonderful father.