Meredith Kendall's Blog, page 115
December 18, 2011
Christmas shopping
Went Christmas shopping today. Well, not really shopping. More like Christmas walking.
My cousin and her daughter came to visit. They live in New York City, and came to Maine for the weekend. Last night we ate popcorn and opened Christmas presents. We had a slumber party. This morning we drove to Portland and had breakfast at Micah's restaurant.
It was sunny and cold. No wind. Temps in the low 20s: cold.
Micah is a cook in a restaurant in a beautiful hotel in the Old Port in Portland. I had a lobster omelet (3 claws and cheese), my cousin had bacon & eggs, and her daughter had chocolate chip pancakes with real maple syrup. She had hot chocolate too, while my cousin and I drank lots of hot coffee. We left a huge tip.
We got Fluff out of the car (warm with sunshine) and walked around the Old Port, looking in shop windows. We didn't buy anything. Then it was time for them to leave. We hugged and cried. They headed back to the city. Fluff and I walked more. We looked at yachts, wrapped in plastic for the winter. We saw seagulls. There were lots of shoppers. Women wore tight jeans, knee-high boots, and puffy jackets. Men wore jeans, sneakers, and puffy jackets. We walked.
I got cold so we started for home. I wanted to walk more, so I detoured to the Maine Mall. There, I wandered through crowds, glancing at merchandise. Sweaters, jewelry, boots, iPads, cameras, shoes, candy, and coffee. I saw Bob Marley, the comedian, selling and signing CDs. I saw teenage girls looking at cell phones.I saw gangs of teenage boys, still wearing those low pants. I didn't buy anything, I just walked.
Going up the escalator in Macy's, my hands started to tingle. Reiki. My body flushed with heat. Reiki? Why here? Why now?
I looked at towels, coffee makers, crystal goblets, dishes, forks, knives, and spoons. I looked around for someone who needed Reiki. Everywhere, preoccupied Christmas shoppers. Everywhere, people with lists in their heads: lists of people and things.
Then I thought of the dog in the cold. Retraced my steps, found the car. Again, the sun had warmed the interior of the car. Back on the turnpike; back home.
My cousin and her daughter came to visit. They live in New York City, and came to Maine for the weekend. Last night we ate popcorn and opened Christmas presents. We had a slumber party. This morning we drove to Portland and had breakfast at Micah's restaurant.
It was sunny and cold. No wind. Temps in the low 20s: cold.
Micah is a cook in a restaurant in a beautiful hotel in the Old Port in Portland. I had a lobster omelet (3 claws and cheese), my cousin had bacon & eggs, and her daughter had chocolate chip pancakes with real maple syrup. She had hot chocolate too, while my cousin and I drank lots of hot coffee. We left a huge tip.
We got Fluff out of the car (warm with sunshine) and walked around the Old Port, looking in shop windows. We didn't buy anything. Then it was time for them to leave. We hugged and cried. They headed back to the city. Fluff and I walked more. We looked at yachts, wrapped in plastic for the winter. We saw seagulls. There were lots of shoppers. Women wore tight jeans, knee-high boots, and puffy jackets. Men wore jeans, sneakers, and puffy jackets. We walked.
I got cold so we started for home. I wanted to walk more, so I detoured to the Maine Mall. There, I wandered through crowds, glancing at merchandise. Sweaters, jewelry, boots, iPads, cameras, shoes, candy, and coffee. I saw Bob Marley, the comedian, selling and signing CDs. I saw teenage girls looking at cell phones.I saw gangs of teenage boys, still wearing those low pants. I didn't buy anything, I just walked.
Going up the escalator in Macy's, my hands started to tingle. Reiki. My body flushed with heat. Reiki? Why here? Why now?
I looked at towels, coffee makers, crystal goblets, dishes, forks, knives, and spoons. I looked around for someone who needed Reiki. Everywhere, preoccupied Christmas shoppers. Everywhere, people with lists in their heads: lists of people and things.
Then I thought of the dog in the cold. Retraced my steps, found the car. Again, the sun had warmed the interior of the car. Back on the turnpike; back home.
December 15, 2011
congratulations, graduates
Went to a graduation ceremony tonight, in a church on a hill in the city. Drove on dark streets past homes covered with gleaming Christmas lights, and a tree adorned with Christmas balls the size of those exercise balls you see in the gym. The ones you sit on.
Thin wooden cutout angels hung from the church ceiling; big ones, like 10 feet tall. There was a tree, covered with angels: doll angels, paper angels, and feathered angels. The ceiling and windows were cut at odd angles. I didn't see a cross or bloody crucified Jesus anywhere. There was another Christmas tree in the common room, covered with tiny colored lights. The kitchen was worn and well-stocked with utensils and dishes: a friendly meeting place.
The graduates were dressed in white. Each woman carried a red long-stem rose. The men wore rose boutonnieres. There were speeches and archaic rituals. People prayed and wept. Then it was over and we drove home on dark rainy streets.
Thin wooden cutout angels hung from the church ceiling; big ones, like 10 feet tall. There was a tree, covered with angels: doll angels, paper angels, and feathered angels. The ceiling and windows were cut at odd angles. I didn't see a cross or bloody crucified Jesus anywhere. There was another Christmas tree in the common room, covered with tiny colored lights. The kitchen was worn and well-stocked with utensils and dishes: a friendly meeting place.
The graduates were dressed in white. Each woman carried a red long-stem rose. The men wore rose boutonnieres. There were speeches and archaic rituals. People prayed and wept. Then it was over and we drove home on dark rainy streets.
December 14, 2011
six pack
of good books.
Looking for that perfect gift for the reader who loves science, romance, mystery, and fear? Here ya go: Mark LaFlamme. Check out his six pack: Box of Lies (my fav), Asterisk (love this one), Vegetation (you like plants? they like you?), The Pink Room (you'll melt at this combo romance and quantum physics), Dirt (what?), and his latest, Delirium Tremens (started it, got scared, will try again; I dare you to read it).
LaFlamme is good and keeps getting better. His images will stick in your eyeballs, plots will twist around in your brain, and his characters will linger in your heart.
Where to start? You could go chronologically, yeah. I rec you start with my fav, the box. BOL a holiday treat for your mind and soul.
Looking for that perfect gift for the reader who loves science, romance, mystery, and fear? Here ya go: Mark LaFlamme. Check out his six pack: Box of Lies (my fav), Asterisk (love this one), Vegetation (you like plants? they like you?), The Pink Room (you'll melt at this combo romance and quantum physics), Dirt (what?), and his latest, Delirium Tremens (started it, got scared, will try again; I dare you to read it).
LaFlamme is good and keeps getting better. His images will stick in your eyeballs, plots will twist around in your brain, and his characters will linger in your heart.
Where to start? You could go chronologically, yeah. I rec you start with my fav, the box. BOL a holiday treat for your mind and soul.
olive oil and parmesan cheese
make anything edible.
Air-popped popcorn, rice cakes, pasta, or steamed cauliflower: all become edibly delish with the addition of olive oil and parm. The dog loves it too. She stands in front of me with her big brown eyes, mindmelding, intuiting, telepathing her wish to share.
Olive oil. Last check of my lipids was rosy. The good fat (HDL) was high and the bad (LDL) was low. Popeye was right.
Air-popped popcorn, rice cakes, pasta, or steamed cauliflower: all become edibly delish with the addition of olive oil and parm. The dog loves it too. She stands in front of me with her big brown eyes, mindmelding, intuiting, telepathing her wish to share.
Olive oil. Last check of my lipids was rosy. The good fat (HDL) was high and the bad (LDL) was low. Popeye was right.
electric blanket
Love it. Love to stretch out, toes warm. But I wake up cold, blanket off.
Does it turn itself off after 10 hours? Or if it overheats? Maybe my hot flashes overpower it: short circuit. Or my hawtness. Or perhaps I turn it off in my sleep. It's a mystery.
Does it turn itself off after 10 hours? Or if it overheats? Maybe my hot flashes overpower it: short circuit. Or my hawtness. Or perhaps I turn it off in my sleep. It's a mystery.
you may be a winner....
... and I am!
We had a contest at work. We decorated our office doors for Christmas. My office mate said, "Let's go all out, over the top, to the max, and win this thing!"
I said, "Yeah," with equal parts wan enthusiasm and fervent reservation. I reached for my wallet. "Here's $10, go for it!"
"Oh, I don't need your money, I have tons of decorations at home," she replied.
We're also doing Secret Santa at work. We pick names and buy modest gifts for each other. We reveal ourselves at the Christmas party. My Secret Santa gave me a small fuzzy Christmas stocking full of chocolate. Great! I ate the chocolate and taped the stocking to our door. Then my Secret Santa gave me a Santa pin. I poked it onto the sock. For extra festiveness I dug into a desk drawer and found a candy cane from last Christmas. I stuck it into the sock. The sock fell off the door and the candy cane broke. I taped it back together.
My office mate never got around to decorating our door. Hey, we're busy. We work all week and weekends too. We work from 6 or 7 am til dark. She just didn't get to it.
Voting Day arrived. The students had ballots and were instructed to wander the halls and judge our doors. There were two categories: Most Festive (creative and cheery!) and Charlie Brown (pitiful and pathetic, but hey, you tried).
On our door was the small stocking with the Santa pin and broken candy cane.
I joked that in our great American political tradition I would stand in my doorway passing out dollar bills and ask for their votes. Or I would stuff the ballot box. Or I would pass out candy and beg for votes. In the end I did nothing.
Other doors had lights, posters, family photos, grinning Santas, fiberoptic trees, and blinking snowflakes.
Oh yeah, we won the Charlie Brown award. Prize: a bag of microwave popcorn. Woo hoo!
Merry Christmas: Lucy, Linus, Charlie Brown, Shroeder, PigPen, and Snoopy :o)
We had a contest at work. We decorated our office doors for Christmas. My office mate said, "Let's go all out, over the top, to the max, and win this thing!"
I said, "Yeah," with equal parts wan enthusiasm and fervent reservation. I reached for my wallet. "Here's $10, go for it!"
"Oh, I don't need your money, I have tons of decorations at home," she replied.
We're also doing Secret Santa at work. We pick names and buy modest gifts for each other. We reveal ourselves at the Christmas party. My Secret Santa gave me a small fuzzy Christmas stocking full of chocolate. Great! I ate the chocolate and taped the stocking to our door. Then my Secret Santa gave me a Santa pin. I poked it onto the sock. For extra festiveness I dug into a desk drawer and found a candy cane from last Christmas. I stuck it into the sock. The sock fell off the door and the candy cane broke. I taped it back together.
My office mate never got around to decorating our door. Hey, we're busy. We work all week and weekends too. We work from 6 or 7 am til dark. She just didn't get to it.
Voting Day arrived. The students had ballots and were instructed to wander the halls and judge our doors. There were two categories: Most Festive (creative and cheery!) and Charlie Brown (pitiful and pathetic, but hey, you tried).
On our door was the small stocking with the Santa pin and broken candy cane.
I joked that in our great American political tradition I would stand in my doorway passing out dollar bills and ask for their votes. Or I would stuff the ballot box. Or I would pass out candy and beg for votes. In the end I did nothing.
Other doors had lights, posters, family photos, grinning Santas, fiberoptic trees, and blinking snowflakes.
Oh yeah, we won the Charlie Brown award. Prize: a bag of microwave popcorn. Woo hoo!
Merry Christmas: Lucy, Linus, Charlie Brown, Shroeder, PigPen, and Snoopy :o)
December 13, 2011
tire
Left rear.
Yesterday was a long day, started early and finished late. So I zipped home at lunch to let the dog out. Spent two glorious minutes in the sun and fresh air while Fluff ambled around the yard. Got out of my car back at work and there was a car behind me. Older couple, window down, the man yelled across his wife, "Your tire is slack."
"Thank you so much," I called back. I looked. Yes, left rear. It bubbled down to the pavement.
I stopped at my office to shed my coat and grab a box of cookies. Chocolate espresso, from the Farmer's Market. Dark crunchy chocolate. Mike's office: Mike, Dana, and Denise.
"Trade you these cookies for help with my tire," I offered to the three of them.
"Open your car door...." Dana started to tell me, then wilted. She was sick, and on her way home. "Count me out," said Denise, slurping a creamy iced coffee. I turned to Mike, fearing he would say, "Fix your own tire." He said something like that. Panic rose. Seems like I used to put air in my bicycle tires when I was a kid. That was a long time ago. I knew the general concept, of course, tires need air. But the details, the exact process...unknown.
Mike saw my panic. "Come on," he said, grabbing his coat.
We drove to the gas station around the corner. $1.00 for air. A dollar? You have to pay for air? I didn't remember that from my childhood. "I have quarters!" I informed Mike. I looked on my car door, as Dana said. "36 PSI," I said.
He was determined to teach me, and make me do it myself. "Take the cap off, put that on there, and the gauge will pop out."
I was scared the tire would explode, but I did it. The gauge didn't pop out. "It's broken." Mike grabbed the air hose from my hand and applied it himself. He put in some air, then laid down the hose and stepped back to look at the right rear, comparing. He added more air. Then more. Suddenly the gauge popped out. 20.
"Look at that! It was so low it didn't even register," Mike said. He added more air, got it up to 30. "You've either got a nail in your tire or the valve is broken," he said. We went back to work, but Mike wouldn't take the cookies.
I drove home after work, worried the tire would explode. This morning it looked low. I called my tire guy and made an appointment for Saturday morning. I worked all day and Mike walked out to look at the tire after work. "It's a nail," he said. "I see it, right there."
I got down on the ground and I saw it too. I drove to the local tire place. It looked deserted. Was it open? It was. The guy was friendly. "That's a bad place to keep your nails!" he said. I sat in the waiting room with the day's newspaper and a TV blaring entertainment news. It took about half an hour and cost $25. Fixed! Cancelled my Saturday appointment. Nothing exploded. Ready for adventures.
Yesterday was a long day, started early and finished late. So I zipped home at lunch to let the dog out. Spent two glorious minutes in the sun and fresh air while Fluff ambled around the yard. Got out of my car back at work and there was a car behind me. Older couple, window down, the man yelled across his wife, "Your tire is slack."
"Thank you so much," I called back. I looked. Yes, left rear. It bubbled down to the pavement.
I stopped at my office to shed my coat and grab a box of cookies. Chocolate espresso, from the Farmer's Market. Dark crunchy chocolate. Mike's office: Mike, Dana, and Denise.
"Trade you these cookies for help with my tire," I offered to the three of them.
"Open your car door...." Dana started to tell me, then wilted. She was sick, and on her way home. "Count me out," said Denise, slurping a creamy iced coffee. I turned to Mike, fearing he would say, "Fix your own tire." He said something like that. Panic rose. Seems like I used to put air in my bicycle tires when I was a kid. That was a long time ago. I knew the general concept, of course, tires need air. But the details, the exact process...unknown.
Mike saw my panic. "Come on," he said, grabbing his coat.
We drove to the gas station around the corner. $1.00 for air. A dollar? You have to pay for air? I didn't remember that from my childhood. "I have quarters!" I informed Mike. I looked on my car door, as Dana said. "36 PSI," I said.
He was determined to teach me, and make me do it myself. "Take the cap off, put that on there, and the gauge will pop out."
I was scared the tire would explode, but I did it. The gauge didn't pop out. "It's broken." Mike grabbed the air hose from my hand and applied it himself. He put in some air, then laid down the hose and stepped back to look at the right rear, comparing. He added more air. Then more. Suddenly the gauge popped out. 20.
"Look at that! It was so low it didn't even register," Mike said. He added more air, got it up to 30. "You've either got a nail in your tire or the valve is broken," he said. We went back to work, but Mike wouldn't take the cookies.
I drove home after work, worried the tire would explode. This morning it looked low. I called my tire guy and made an appointment for Saturday morning. I worked all day and Mike walked out to look at the tire after work. "It's a nail," he said. "I see it, right there."
I got down on the ground and I saw it too. I drove to the local tire place. It looked deserted. Was it open? It was. The guy was friendly. "That's a bad place to keep your nails!" he said. I sat in the waiting room with the day's newspaper and a TV blaring entertainment news. It took about half an hour and cost $25. Fixed! Cancelled my Saturday appointment. Nothing exploded. Ready for adventures.
December 1, 2011
60
Sixty degrees.
The thermostat, 60: that's where it's at. I'm trying to spend less on oil. More on electricity, I guess, because I bought an electric blanket. If I can get into a warm bed, then I can keep the thermostat down. What about EMFs? I scorned electric blankets back in the day, when I had other ways to warm my bed. EMFs can cause cancer, right? Or have there been dramatic developments in the field of electric blankets?
All I know is, my house is cold. My bed is warm.
The thermostat, 60: that's where it's at. I'm trying to spend less on oil. More on electricity, I guess, because I bought an electric blanket. If I can get into a warm bed, then I can keep the thermostat down. What about EMFs? I scorned electric blankets back in the day, when I had other ways to warm my bed. EMFs can cause cancer, right? Or have there been dramatic developments in the field of electric blankets?
All I know is, my house is cold. My bed is warm.
Reiki: neXt gen
Amazing how something unexpected can renew your faith and hope.
I spent the evening with teens. Some were ill, some had lost a parent, and some had a parent with an illness. So what? All were teens. All were vibrant, beautiful, and curious.
They seemed restless, so we did some yoga. Tree. Not all could. Chair yoga is fine, or modified.
Turned out the lights. We meditated. They sprawled on the floor and conked out. I told them it was Ok to giggle. So they didn't. They found comfortable positions and didn't move.
Then self-Reiki. Mitten hands, not glove. One stayed in her curled up meditation position. One opted out; pulled out phone and texted. That's OK. Everyone else placed hands over eyes, ears, jaw, throat, chest, belly, and legs.
Last. Shared Reiki. First they paired up, hands on backs. Then they spontaneously made lines of 3 or 4 and did group Reiki. I went around and added to the energy. Amazing, the heat they were putting out.
It was quiet and peaceful. The ventilation system kicked in and they gasped. That's how quiet it was.
Thank you, teen group.
I spent the evening with teens. Some were ill, some had lost a parent, and some had a parent with an illness. So what? All were teens. All were vibrant, beautiful, and curious.
They seemed restless, so we did some yoga. Tree. Not all could. Chair yoga is fine, or modified.
Turned out the lights. We meditated. They sprawled on the floor and conked out. I told them it was Ok to giggle. So they didn't. They found comfortable positions and didn't move.
Then self-Reiki. Mitten hands, not glove. One stayed in her curled up meditation position. One opted out; pulled out phone and texted. That's OK. Everyone else placed hands over eyes, ears, jaw, throat, chest, belly, and legs.
Last. Shared Reiki. First they paired up, hands on backs. Then they spontaneously made lines of 3 or 4 and did group Reiki. I went around and added to the energy. Amazing, the heat they were putting out.
It was quiet and peaceful. The ventilation system kicked in and they gasped. That's how quiet it was.
Thank you, teen group.
