Monday, July 31, 2017

NOTES FROM RANGELEY MAINE



We have an wonderful little house in Rangeley, Maine that, of course, I did not want to own but my husband's vision won while I fussed along behind. "Too much money, five kids will be in college, too far from Portland, Maine. All true. And------it's been a great gift.  

We paid very little for it. I always say 18,000 dollars and my husband says 35,000.  My guess--he told me 18000 and we paid 35000!!  He is expert at "act first, apologize later". We gave each of our five kids a room to renovate. So the kitchen cabinets were thick with oil paint drips, the living room floor had a hollow place from an electric sander and lots of divots, the upstairs girls' room was a kind of tangerine orange and the paneling in the boys' room was polyurethaned with a brilliant shine that didn't help the room at all. Luckily we had a chimney fire that covered everything with soot and we had to upgrade to somewhat normal. Normal means the bathroom is no longer attached by the wallpaper holding it onto the kitchen wall. 

Rangley is quiet. Not many sounds day or night except the Loons. Deer saunter by on our lawn early morning and evening. We have no TV or Internet connection (for now--Internet is looming).
To get a signal I sit under a pin oak planted long ago in an old fashioned metal lawn chair.
The house is a museum of our family full of displaced things from other locations. My mom and dad's Lazy Boy chairs, blankets, non-matching cups and plates from other relatives, Monopoly set of my dad's, and books, books, books from college and eras or our life including The Whole Earth Catalogue.

People choose Rangely. It has wonderful competent hardy wry born there people and wonderful, incompetent,  slightly helpless, romantic eccentrics from away. Actually the generalizations hide
an array of very idiosyncratic people. There is the carpenter who sits over coffee with me and 
discusses world religion, the waitress who is a world class quilter. (It's necessary in Rangeley for people to have many skills to earn enough to live there.) There are our dear neighbors, a former school principal and his teacher wife who are pioneers. They move barns and build additions, and float huge logs across the lake for an off the grid house while I decide which book to read.

And it seems that time exists still in Rangeley.  We talk and get to know people as very distinct individuals. This trip we met our waitress at a tiny cafe. She loves baking and does all the sweets for the cafe. Her idea of heaven is six hours in the kitchen alone. She loves baseball and wonders about David Price and his sour attitude with the Red Sox. She aspires to an old house to fix up.
She declares with a blush that she likes us. We return the sentiment. She sits with us at breakfast the next day.

And then there is our experience on the way home from Rangeley. My husband likes to take photos of rot and decay and moss and slime. Family pictures, not so much. We tease him lovingly and not so lovingly. I was feeling nice. We take a road we never have to New Vineyard. 
There is a lake. (No surprise in Maine) and some slightly falling apart houses. I see a real goody and almost don't point it out to David (I might as well name him) because I know it will be at least an hour delay.  I have a book and feel generous so, I point out the house. 

It is one scary house. Huge, paint peeling, porch falling, wonderful detailed house with shutters and porticoes and old glass windows. Intriguing but still too much like the house in Psycho for me.
I read. David photographs. I hear voices. There is Don David on the porch with a man chatting.
I approach. We all chat. He is Harvard graduate, college teacher, wife died last February. She bought the house for 10,000 dollars. He has been sweeping out plaster from the 3rd floor for his kids who are coming to visit. He married a woman with six children. As he said, his whole life has been doing things he was not prepared to do, but did. He and I talked about secular humanism and whether that is the next movement in a religions like structure!! He plays tennis and does pottery. He lives in North Carolina but he and his wife have come up to this house for many Summers. There are mattresses but no bed for his family that is coming. There is an artificial Christmas tree in the bay window of the 'parlor'. He said he keeps it up because the neighborhood kids used to be afraid to walk by the house. We leave at my impetus. 

As we get in the car, we wonder, what was real and what wasn't. Taking time to stray.
Another gift of a Rangeley kind of mood.




Tuesday, July 25, 2017

AND THE ANSWER IS----


But first, sorry to be late. I am up in Rangeley where the Internet signal is variable and the deer are on the lawn and the loons are looning and we imagine a moose groaning.

I will be very very short. I write from the Inn next door to us. On the porch. And it is cold and rainy. 


THE ANSWER TO LAST WEEK'S QUIZ IS-----
(To get the answer, all you have to do is join my club to make life wonderful and your skin wrinkle free by sending your email and paying only 67 dollars. No wait, wait. If you hurry, only 39 dollars.

Well OK
For free

I DO NOT LOVE DIXIELAND JAZZ. ALL OTHER COMMENTS ARE TRUE!!!!
(Including not having watched Game of Thrones. I never read or watched Harry Potter either.
Nor did I see Titanic.)  Sometimes you just miss the wave.

Sunday, July 16, 2017

"IMPORTANT NOTHINGS"


These are the days of Jane Austin glut--200 years since she died. Deathaversary?
This Jane Austin quote is how I often feel when I start to write, "Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first?"

And so here are some of my important nothings:

—I like popcorn more than red licorice

—My grandchildren ask if they can have a break from playing with me

—I hate to drive

—I have not watched one episode of Game of Thrones

—I miss playing tennis

—I was an excellent violinist

—I have eaten iguana meat

—I like order and create mess—

—I had waist length hair and a leather peace sign necklace

—I paint paintings and cards for special occasions but only then

—I dont' know how to parallel park and don't want to learn

—I love to listen to sports radio in the car

—I love games 

—and so which of the above is not true?

Sunday, July 9, 2017

CHOOSING MY SUMMER MEMORIES FILLS ME WITH GOOD STUFF


OK, this is a very metaphysical thought  coming out of ten days of vacation and family.
Then again, it may be very apropos. 

When kids from far away come for a long visit there are lovely memorable moments--and usually a few bumps when feelings run high. Too many feelings into compressed a time heat up all the experience. Sparklers are "phenomenal"! Sitting in candle light and talking is "magical"! A cross word is "devastating".  You get the idea.  I lived far from my parents as an adult and my dad and I always had our moment that ended with me in tears and my dad hugging me. Spill over emotion, I call it.

Mmmm. How does this fit with my truth burp title?  Maybe this way.  I read quotes from Abraham every day --dailyquote@abraham-hicks.com>  It is based on the law of attraction with the basic premise being that you create what you think and feel. And choosing the thought that feels the best to you will support it coming into being. What it does is help me choose the positive. Period.
I think Pollyanna got this right without much falderal. (There's a fun word)

And so I sit here ready for family to leave tomorrow. What thoughts do I want to put into my basket--the night everything went wrong, the irritations of too many, too much cooking, not enough slow easy connection? No. 

I choose cousins playing together easily who don't see one another often but feel the family connection.

 I choose sitting on Adirondack chairs at the Nonantum Inn in Kennebunkport with my Oregon daughter. Just us. Treated like royalty by Jean Ginn Marvin the Innkeeper and friend.  We stepped away and did luxury and waved to the Bush family compound. 

 I choose the delight of my 4 year old wanting sparklers at home over fireworks and her delight in writing her letters with the sparks. 

I choose the mandatory lobster dinner and the same 4 year old being adept with lobster crackers.

 I choose my 9 year old (only boy) grandson still wanting the ritual of going to the Cookie Jar bakery with me and treating me to a cookie. (He came back from ten days at Camp Chewonki grown up!)

 I choose to remember the Summer front porch with people sprawled and chatting and getting up for Ladder Golf. I

I choose to see two sisters (my daughters) having a connection that will sustain them for life.

But to avoid being totally la-la, I will say my Oregon daughter heads back with a probable broken rib, not all relatives got visited, and each kid can count and name various
"owies" that deserve the count, and I will wish to change things I said--and didn't say.

You know, actually it is esoteric. We do choose who and how we want to be---and what we want to remember.




Sunday, July 2, 2017

THOUGHT BEFORE GOING OFFLINE FOR THE WEEK



As I head to vacation, here is my thought.

So many people are just darned good and nice.
I've bumped into many this week.
I had to go to the DMV to renew my driver's license. It was the last day before the possible shutdown of Maine's government.
I had 68 people before my number would be called.
The place was short staffed.
The atmosphere was not bored and resigned to bureaucracy as it is usually.
The information desk guy was out and about checking with each person about whether or not they had the right paperwork with them.
People were exchanging numbers based on need.
The atmosphere was jolly and helpful, one person to another.
Names were exchanged. Hobbies were shared. It was like a neighborhood gathering. 
Goodwill winning over governmental craziness.

My husband couldn't find his way to the entrance to a doctor's office.
He parked his car on the side of the road with blinkers on and walked up the grass hill to the office.
A nice nurse went out to the care with the keys and put it in the parking lot.
Two cars had already stopped to see if help was needed.

We--world wide--are good people.  What we need is good leaders--competent and moral and wanting to serve.  We deserve it.

Here I go.
Offline
Splash