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Monday, December 22, 2008

Hello Out There!

Greetings from Sarah on another snow, Up North day! She does such a pretty, polite "Sit!" when I have food in my hand.

Heard this morning on the radio someone saying what she’d learned from the current financial crisis: “I’m pretty much on my own.” We all learn that truth eventually, in one way or another. One friend said she learned it on the infamous September 11. Some find the lesson in the breakup of relationships, others on the battlefield.

The other side of that coin is first feeling all alone and thinking no one cares, then learning that someone (sometimes even many people) do care, and that’s just as true. Truth here, as so often, is in paradox. It’s true that we’re on our own, and it’s true that we don’t have to be as rugged in self-sufficiency as we sometimes believe. People do care.

One day past the solstice, two days into Hanukkah, with Christmas three days ahead, David and I both thought we might have a lot of last-minute shoppers at the bookstore, since the weather is so treacherous, but the streets of Northport are practically empty. (Never underestimate the determination of small town residents to make their way to the nearest large town!) On such a day, a small occurrence like a comment on my blog from Salt Lake City is heart-warming. At least in the virtual world, someone has noticed that I’m here!

It was good to have artist friend Debra Ebbers drop in around noon, too. She brought her lunch, I heated up lentils from home, and we each had a red leather chair for our visit, in honor of which I'm posting this picture of some of Deb's palettes, in use at her studio last Wednesday evening.

Snow is still falling. The forecast is for it to continue through Wednesday and for the sun to shine on Christmas Day. Though I often long for chickens and horses (we have the room!), I probably would not enjoy making all those trips out to the barn this time of year to do chores.


Walt said...

Leaving Northport Fitness this morning before you'd opened Dog Ear's, I found it difficult to tell if the west side of Nagonaba actually had a sidewalk. Some strange effect of the way they've plowed the roads, I imagine.

I had the same problem near Barb's Bakery when I went over for a cinnamon twist (to compensate for the exercise) and tea. I missed you, but found David and Marjorie engaged in lively conversation.

Later, the screaming monkey arrived, capping off an interesting morning. Sarah would like the screaming monkey, I think.


P. J. Grath said...

The worst sidewalk-related snow area in Northport, in my opinion, is the northeast corner of Nagonaba and Mill Streets, on the south side of the building housing the Pennington Collection. You walk south on Mill, past the Pennington door, turn the corner to go to the post office, and you meet with a mountain of snow, piled high on the sidewalk. This happens every year. In fact, I've already posted a picture of it this year.

David was quite "taken by" the screaming monkey. I recoiled as he described it to me. "We're very different, you and I," he observed gratuitously.

Anonymous said...

Wait, wait - what screaming monkey???

Walt said...

Sorry, Gerry, but I think you'll just have to visit Barb's Bakery to find out...

P. J. Grath said...

Hey, Walt! I was going to tell Gerry, "You'll have to get a description from Walt!" It sounded quite dreadful to me, but David said Thea either had bought several or had bought one but was going to buy more. Guess we know what that family is getting for Christmas.

Walt said...

Well, I guess I can describe it. First, I forgot to mention that it's a flying monkey.

Envision a plush stuffed toy monkey, about 12 or 15 inches tall, wearing a black mask and black cape. Think "Wizard of Oz".

One of its arms has a glove with an opening big enough for you to insert a finger, and that arm has a stretchy rubber tube inside it. You put a finger in the glove, grab the monkey's legs with your other hand, pull back, and (with the proper coordination) when you release the legs the monkey flies across the room at someone. When it hits it starts screaming like a monkey.

The family that gets that boxfull of monkeys should have a rather noisy Christmas, I think.

Anonymous said...

This is a whole new side of Northport. Clearly worth a trip to investigate. Must find the shovel. And the steps. The garage, too, that would be good. Must take a nap.

P. J. Grath said...

Don't forget, Gerry, that Northport is the home of the dog parade. In the old days (a decade or so ago) we even had belt-sander races. So screaming monkeys? Par for the course.