Today I got sidetracked by a lengthy list of unread e-mails. Working my way through that is a time-consuming chore! About half of them were marketing messages, catalogue pages, urges to buy now or forever regret having missed this once in a lifetime opportunity and such stuff. So I started at the bottom and tried to unsubscribe to all and everyone of them. Some were easy, some not so, some required actual thought and work and three responded immediately either acknowledging that I had unsubscribed or asking for any good reason why I want to do such an atrocious thing: “you will never again hear from us!” or “please change your mind on this. We can’t imagine that you wanted to push this button!” But the deed is done now, and I hope that more peace in my mailbox will help make my days more enjoyable. I like to hear from friends, but strangers who think I should buy a half a dozen new swim trunks just because they are cheap . . .
Yesterday I had invited Brenda and Chip for dinner, and then ran into our new neighbor across the street, an ‘economic history’ professor from Charlottesville, UVA. It turned out that he is temporarily alone, his wife visiting friends in the NE and he himself being chained to his key board to complete a task he is expected to finish before the new term starts. So I invited him for dinner on Saturday and also to yesterday’s affair. Saturday, we started talking about this and that and everything else and did not finish till close to midnight, which caused me to oversleep on Sunday morning and I got into a terrible panic that my cooking was not going to be finished by the time my guests arrive. But is turned out quite well, after all. I BBQ-smoked a four pound slab of spare ribs. It was simmering in the oven for its finishing touches and my guests arrived punctually and we all enjoyed the feast.
So, that brings you up to date with the turbulent past and looking in the future, I just received an invitation to dinner at the DePalo’s house for Thursday, then of course comes the fourth of July with a parade in Whitingham that is held once every ten years. The participants line up on the Townhill road and I get to see the whole thing sitting on the deck. From here, the parade will go all the way to the schoolhouse about a mile away and there the ‘paraders’ will enjoy a garden fest on the ball field of the school, and that is about the purpose, since in our small town you can’t have a parade and spectators too. Lulu and her Red-Hatter friends participated ten years ago, riding golf carts, so there were not even watchers here on or deck. But what assembles for this affair reaches from the Morse’s maple syrup rig with two black horses to the compulsory group of Schreiners on miniature motor bikes and includes the ladder from the fire department and the emergency vehicle from the rescue squad.
Then, after the long weekend, I am expecting a representative of a company that received a mandate from Washington to install newfangled phones for people who have listening problems. The phone has a large screen, where one can read the entire conversation in large print captions. I asked about foreign languages and weird dialects, like the one that’s spoken in some towns around Goldsboro, and they assured me that they had no capacity for the language part but that they could handle dialects. I’m looking forward to that experience when I get back to NC! They also promised me that I will be able to take that phone with me when I travel. Plus, there is an app about to be sprung which allows to use the iPad as a phone! I love useful technology.
By the time this new phone installation is behind me, the grass must be mowed and the weed whacking must be done and we all hope for a little dryer weather so we do not sink down into the wet ground. and then it is just a short time and you all will come here and after that I will have to direct my thoughts towards ‘packing’ and preparing for the trip down south ;-) But I am sure some other things will happen in between.
So you see we are having quite a busy time up here on the Hill. Once I tried to get back on my bike between T-storms and failed completely with all the ups one gets around here. I drove the bike with the car to the Dam Road which follows the lake shore and was rudely reminded that it too goes up and down, even in sight of the level lake surface. I made it up the first hill, but just barely, and when I came to the top I saw that the road went down again and figured that, if I were to continue, I would have to make my way back up again on the return and that thought was enough to make me quit and go home. The record performance? 0.61 miles at an average pace of 12 minutes per mile and some seconds. Things sure aren’t the same anymore as they were sixty five years ago.
Yesterday I had invited Brenda and Chip for dinner, and then ran into our new neighbor across the street, an ‘economic history’ professor from Charlottesville, UVA. It turned out that he is temporarily alone, his wife visiting friends in the NE and he himself being chained to his key board to complete a task he is expected to finish before the new term starts. So I invited him for dinner on Saturday and also to yesterday’s affair. Saturday, we started talking about this and that and everything else and did not finish till close to midnight, which caused me to oversleep on Sunday morning and I got into a terrible panic that my cooking was not going to be finished by the time my guests arrive. But is turned out quite well, after all. I BBQ-smoked a four pound slab of spare ribs. It was simmering in the oven for its finishing touches and my guests arrived punctually and we all enjoyed the feast.
So, that brings you up to date with the turbulent past and looking in the future, I just received an invitation to dinner at the DePalo’s house for Thursday, then of course comes the fourth of July with a parade in Whitingham that is held once every ten years. The participants line up on the Townhill road and I get to see the whole thing sitting on the deck. From here, the parade will go all the way to the schoolhouse about a mile away and there the ‘paraders’ will enjoy a garden fest on the ball field of the school, and that is about the purpose, since in our small town you can’t have a parade and spectators too. Lulu and her Red-Hatter friends participated ten years ago, riding golf carts, so there were not even watchers here on or deck. But what assembles for this affair reaches from the Morse’s maple syrup rig with two black horses to the compulsory group of Schreiners on miniature motor bikes and includes the ladder from the fire department and the emergency vehicle from the rescue squad.
Then, after the long weekend, I am expecting a representative of a company that received a mandate from Washington to install newfangled phones for people who have listening problems. The phone has a large screen, where one can read the entire conversation in large print captions. I asked about foreign languages and weird dialects, like the one that’s spoken in some towns around Goldsboro, and they assured me that they had no capacity for the language part but that they could handle dialects. I’m looking forward to that experience when I get back to NC! They also promised me that I will be able to take that phone with me when I travel. Plus, there is an app about to be sprung which allows to use the iPad as a phone! I love useful technology.
By the time this new phone installation is behind me, the grass must be mowed and the weed whacking must be done and we all hope for a little dryer weather so we do not sink down into the wet ground. and then it is just a short time and you all will come here and after that I will have to direct my thoughts towards ‘packing’ and preparing for the trip down south ;-) But I am sure some other things will happen in between.
So you see we are having quite a busy time up here on the Hill. Once I tried to get back on my bike between T-storms and failed completely with all the ups one gets around here. I drove the bike with the car to the Dam Road which follows the lake shore and was rudely reminded that it too goes up and down, even in sight of the level lake surface. I made it up the first hill, but just barely, and when I came to the top I saw that the road went down again and figured that, if I were to continue, I would have to make my way back up again on the return and that thought was enough to make me quit and go home. The record performance? 0.61 miles at an average pace of 12 minutes per mile and some seconds. Things sure aren’t the same anymore as they were sixty five years ago.
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