Tuesday, November 25

Woke up this morning wanting to go to a bar. Not to drink, but to be around people who are quiet and vulnerable. Instead I gathered Gerrit and we went to the Dorry then for a walk about town. Better beginnings.

Couldn't post my crush list yesterday but I certainly have one this week.

5. Malcolm Davidson
4. Joe Torra
3. Mick Carr
2. "Jaunty" Joel Sloman
1. Mike County

To the Kinvara today then my da's for dinner. Always waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Sunday, November 23

(I didn't like the big picture so I took it out.)

Saturday, November 22

In the Pooh Quiz I am Rabbit:

"Sometimes your creative solutions land you in sticky situations but you remain adventurous and undaunted by failure. You posess an infectious confidence and deep thinking comes naturally to you. Always on the go with many paws in many pies, Rabbits can appear slightly manic to others. But not to worry, you have everything under control... most of the time."

Successfully changed a halogen lightbulb. Got a big bottle of wine to have with dinner...
Gata has become a fan of eeksy peeksy. And of clawing the back of my neck as I sleep.

Some lovely goals this morning from Celtic, 3 for Sutton. Douglas didn't look so good. The usual suspects at the KV. Wanted to tell Stephen about the mouse at the harp but thought he might take it the wrong way.

Beef stew is better on the third day, once the bottle of burgundy has settled in. My head's in a bit of a fog and my throat is a little scratchy. I'm just having a cup of tea now before dragging myself to work.

I have been thinking a lot about new furniture. It isn't that I really want to buy new furniture, I just want some control over my surroundings. Right now my place is full of furniture that was here when we moved in that I can't get rid of, things we found on the side of the road that seemed to fill some need, and furniture family was discarding. Several bookcases purchased at yard sales, one from an office supply store. Couch from Leanord Street, white shelves from River Road. New cubbies from the long driveway near Coggeshell and Langsford. Just peel the contact paper off. I'll refinish them in the spring.

Some things fit perfectly, though. I don't mind how I get soemthing if it works. Metal shelves from Gerrit now on the computer desk, holding reference books and clementine boxes. One end supported by stacks of books piled on a board on the radiator. His white shelf that was in the kitchen bt was replaced by my sister's old baker's rack now lives on the other side of James's desk. His desk is an old sewing desk my mother found on the side of the road when he first moved to Gloucester.

Thursday, November 20

When I got on the bus this evening Sewell's brother and Astrid's father immediately recognized me as the pediatrician's granddaughter.
It’s sort of a lonely morning, dreary and rainy. A horrible day for a funeral. After dropping James off and driving Alex to school I wanted to be around people. Bar people. I wish I knew where the Crow’s Nest people are at 8 in the morning. I probably should have checked the Crow’s Nest.

Drove through Manchester hoping to stop for coffee. Everything looked too just-so for me. Continued on to Café Sicilia. An hour later than usual, all the spots at the tables near the front were taken. I ended up at the table near the door and with no knitting and nothing to read I sat there, alone. Left lonely still. Considered going to Trupiano’s for meat for stew. Changed my mind and headed home in a round-about way through Rockport.

Went to the hardware store to wait for the yarn store to open. Considered light bulbs, paint, hardware for shelving. I should have measured something before I went. I could have measured anything. I ended up buying a little chopper that was on sale to replace my mini Cuisinart that died during Christmas candy making last year.

With my new chopper’s help I talked myself out of yarn. Went to IGA instead. Lots of root vegetables for stew. Home through Lanesville, one last chance to end the loneliness of the day. Postcard stamps from Lenny at the post office. Into the café where a new girl was working and the old postman who was arrested a couple years back was there talking to her. He makes me uncomfortable. No comfy coffee time for me, I left soon after I got there. To the package store, a bottle of burgundy for the stew and cabernet for drinking.

Browned the meat, turning first with chopsticks then a metal spatula. I hate using metal utensils, prefer wood, but with flour sticking to the pan and meat sticking with it I gave in. Onions and celery and carrots chopped super–fine with my new chopper into the pot, just a couple minutes ‘til the onions are soft. Meat back in, bay leaves, salt and pepper, cover it over with wine and a little broth. Amused by the new appliance. Chop mushrooms until they are barely mushrooms at all, sauté them, toss them into the pot. Using finely chopped vegetables for thickening.

Waiting now for the meat to turn fork-tender. Bowls of hand-cut root vegetables are on the table, waiting to go in. Turnips, potatoes, carrots and parsnips. Those little boiling onions, which I have never used before. Maybe more mushrooms, halved or quartered. Cutting by hand is ultimately more satisfying. Toss some rosemary in on a whim.

Don’t know what to wear to the service. Should I walk to the church? If I can find my umbrella. Not lonely anymore, it doesn’t take much for me. Just a comfortable feeling.

Wednesday, November 19

Home to a dark house smelling of smoke and the house matching my smell but its smoke of wood, mine of stale bar. Songs on the radio on the way home. You and me babe, how about it.

My mind spins when it is windy and warm. Along the causeway they are building a walkway named after a friend of mine killed there. It will interfere with one of my favorite morning views, sort of like to suicide fence on the A. Pyatt Andrews. I hope this is more successful.

Met a man in the bar tonight who remembered my aunt Judy. Him deaf across the bar, raising his glass and I raising mine, to Judy. When I was 16 and ready to escape Gloucester and the way it had trapped me Judy was sailing in the Pilot from Gloucester to California, through the Pananma Canal. Her husband Ross was not popular with my family. I spent some time with them and the rest of the crew on the boat as it was docked near the state fish pier. A boy on board not too much older than me at the time gave me a sprig of sea lavender he had gathered somewhere on a previous sail. I still have it in one of my many little woodern boxes. Long after Judy died, long after my first sailing adventure. Long after her brother and I cried, drunk, in the cabin of his Mug Up in Belfast Harbor, singing songs to Judy.
It being just past 8 in the morning I have already torn the study apart and moved a little furniture. Closed my desk in a little more, made the other desk easier to use. I am still trying to figure out where to put the filing cabinet and the dictionairy stand I made for James's OED. The chest in front of the guest bed is a bit of a problem now as well. That may move to the foot of my bed. That room will be cramped then but there will always be at least one cramped room here. The bedroom is so much more light than this room; it may be able to handle extra furniture.

Thank you, Nick for the advice on my finger. I held it in a shot glass of warm water last night and slept with it wrapped in one of the glittery bandages I got the night I stayed at Xtina's. It seems a lot better now. But I think I should still do as Dr. Nick says.

Tuesday, November 18

I am currently accepting folk medicine and wives' tales on how to get a bit of a thorn out of mu finger. I think it is still in there a little. Or it is just infected. Oh how it hurts!
I find myself wishing sometimes that Vincent Ferrini had a blog. That would give Karl a run for his money. Saw V.'s nephew Henry when I went to work today, he was going off on a walk in Dogtown with my boss. Saw the new office set up (about) as my sister arrived for reflexology. In a different room.

I'm looking forward to meeting Nick Piombino next week when he comes here to read. Maybe he'll even come out to Gloucester. If so, I'll cook.

The splinter I took out of my finger yesterday left a big hole. A big hole that hurts. It interferes with my bowhold and my knitting. It hurts when I do dishes. It hurts me so.

Friday my grandmother from Hawaii flies in. I am picking her up at the airport and will miss Mark's reading. Her coming makes me nervous about my father-- she is feeble herself and it makes me wonder just how bad he is if she is coming out on such short notice. But I miss her and love her and look forward to sharing a bottle of wine with her. I wonder how long she is staying.

A friend's grandfather died last week. He was a great man and will be missed. Friend says he just got weaker and weaker then died. Bodies do that, I guess, just give up.
Weather is getting cooler and I feel it in my fingers. Typing, knitting, playing violin, all a little stiff. Driving too much today and the dashboard like a light show. Helped my sister clean this morning. She's due in a few weeks, her fifth baby boy. All seven and under. Taking care of older boys now. I have to go get one at school. Later.

Monday, November 17

After a mostly useless day I got the house clean, took a bath and got dressed up for dinner. Set the cofffee maker up for morning. Tomorrow will be early. There are messages I mean to write but I just can't get my mind around everything- AB, AD, KR- I am thinking them! Pay close attention and they may arrive on the wind.

My crush list today is a non-rated list of poets I miss... Joel Sloman, Mike County, Jim Behrle, Sean Cole, Ed Barrett.

I would like to go to Ireland in the next week. It's too bad that I won't.
Pulled dead sunflowers out of the garden this morning. Picked an onion. Splinter in my finger, removed but with a slight wound in its place. Trying to put order into the week, the week into order, a weak order, really. Time is filling up. How can I let YOU down?

Saturday, November 15

There are hurts that don’t go away. They follow us like the dead or the lost, and we mourn them as such.

Thursday, November 13

Why is an elaborate bird song comsidered a trade off? Sex breast boat engine.
Tried getting up on both sides of the bed today, hoping one would be right. No luck. Morning phone call from my ma. Tried to reassure her but I really have no idea. The wind is whistling outside, Gata meowing in, and me grumping about all of it.

What is fair and what isn't? If it weren't so cold and windy I would throw all the windows open and clear this house out. The air needs some clearing. I could drink a lot of water. Cancel credit cards. Wash clothes. Nothing will be fixed by it, trust me. An article I saw yesterday had firemen and businessmen and little girls meditating.

To keep the cat from attacking the printer I have closed her out of this room. The fish tank needs filling, its gurgle is distracting. Wind on the left, water on the right...

Wednesday, November 12

Return to the List Method- get things done! Trying to remember how to make the most of a day. Work some, clean some, work some more. Some more, s'more. Off for more!

Tuesday, November 11

Home from being out and home the same tone as before. Gata's going crazy with my arm. Read moomin comics until my feet fell asleep, leaving me wanting tea and wanting to talk to a particluar friend so often gone mssing.

Trying to get going I made a list of things to do but I am walking on eggshells. Can't seem to do anything inolving any sort of disruption. Tummy sore, maybe from popcorn. What can I do? I want to make as little noise or motion as possible. I will consult my list.

I haven't done a single useful thing today, and I had a lot I needed to do. With an hour to go before I need to be somewhere I could go super-speed useful. Fold laundry, do dishes, balance checkbooks, etc. Or I could not.
Cutting onios for chowder the blade of the knife comes free and stays fast in the onion. No thyme but bay leaves. Salvaged two potatoes from the cupboard, should have had three. Fish stock in the pot and in a bit haddock.
Woke up in a good mood but these things change quickly. I'll do the dishes, get my work out of the car... year-end books to do, and some cataloging. May trim the rose bushes, fall is as good a time as any. So many things that should be done. Which to do?

Saturday, November 8

Got the following as an email today, the subject line was my boss' name...

this guy is nuts,the sks rifle does not walk around an shoot buy there
selfs,a person has to do that,the same person could use a bat an kill,
so now we ban the bat.people like this really suck

Tuesday, November 4

Pork stuffed with an apple and sausauge stuffing for dinner tonight with a cranberry sauce of orange juice, Grand Marnier, a little sugar and a couple handfuls of fresh berries, simmered down a bit then zzzed in the blender. The stuffing was a little rich but fun to make. The biggest problem with cooking like this is all the dishes left along the way.

Brought my Da lunch today then helped my sister move her house from its one floor into the floor below it. Mostly kitchen. The bedrooms are staying up where they are, with another created by the move.

My fingers are sore from quilting last night, little needle pricks all in my middle finger. I should practice violin tonight (I should practice violin every night); I hope my finger doesn't give me an easy excuse not to.

Voted today in a lackluster election. Left a lot of things blank.

Monday, November 3

Mondays have a habit of feeling just like Monday. Woke up groggy from a weekend of book fairs. Unhappy with the house, not feeling well, no idea how to begin the day. Forget eating, no good food. To market, I decide, but first clean the kitchen.

Dishes books paper yarn. No dry cat food, Gata is mad. Vacuum the floor then mop. Leave it drying with paw prints all around.

Stop on the out to see Charlotte and her new knee. People in my family replace parts. My dad's up for new lungs again, it's got me in a state. I've got his car now and in it I can listen to cd's. Damien Rice makes me melancholy, one song makes me think of someone in particular for no particular reason. To Rowley past sewer work on 133.

At the market I try to use coupons. I stare like an idiot at toothpaste and canned soup and tissues and the like, calculating discounted unit prices. Stopping grey-hair traffic, those ladies can barely push the cart anyway. Give up at the kitty litter, too depressing to eke out the pennies. I'd rather work more. Hard time buying produce with my new rules about the ten most pesticide-ridden fruits and veggies. Leave not sure I have anything I need but still having spent plenty.

At home cook dinner slowly head hurts and body aches. Blacken tomatillos, roast garlic. Chicken in the oven. Rice on the stove. Puree tomatillos with chipotles and cilantro. Tortillas warming. Roast summer squash and zucchini. Re-fry beans.

James gone now, I stay home. Trying to get better so I can see my da tomorrow. Bringing him lunch. Want to spend some time.

I don't think I have crushes this week. I have worries and cares. Some nice thoughts of people in particular and some guilt for missing readings. Happy to have made guest appearances in dreams but unhappy with the dreams I am having. Add them to my list of worries.

Sunday, November 2

In an MSN search for “listen to Leanord Cohen”, I.W. is #4. AOL search for “Amanda”, #3. #21 in the Yahoo search for “sheer mohair”. #1 in the MSN search for “Amanda Cook”. Why is this all so amusing to me?