Gas hit $3.95 here yesterday. Wonder if they’ll hold off posting the very real, not-so-symbolic $4.00 per gallon before Memorial Day weekend, which AAA considers the start of the summer travel season?
I don’t see too many tourists coming way up this way. Unfortunate, because tourism spending trickles down in small towns in so many ways.
And I thought the $3.74 gas price in town a few days ago was high. This is today’s news.
Still, we have seen worse. When we drove across Long Island last week for Frank’s nephew’s wedding, $3.75 was the lowest we paid, and that was a deal. Signs of $3.99 were common. Knowing that back home we were still paying under $3.70, we felt smug. But that’s no longer the case.
Our PT Cruiser, now a year old in our hands, is lovely in every way, except for gas mileage. We can count on about 25 miles to the gallon. Which, since it’s 22 miles to Berta and Unc’s house, means we’re spending close to $3.67 to get there, and the same to get back.
I may have written about gas at $3.45 just two weeks ago, but it’s 27 cents higher now in town.
This isn’t about reality television, but about having television be a reality in my life again for the first time since I was 17 or 18 and still living on Thrush Lane.
The candidate in me needs to be watching local news. The wife in me is afraid that Frank will turn on the TV more often than I care to hear it.
We have signed up for the most basic of options. It’s called Tech TV, an option that I believe is federally mandated and aimed at low-income households (with tax, it’s $11.08 a month). But, cable companies aren’t obligated to advertise it or even offer it when asked about all the options, so no one knows about it. They steer you to the higher-priced packages (”150 channels!”), but have to provide it if the customer asks specifically.
I learned about it when I asked a friend, “How much do you pay for your TV each month?” Because we’re so rural here, you need to have some kind of cable plan even to pick up the local stations (ABC, CBS, NBC) out of Bangor. Other people talk about spending $40 or $50 or $60 minimum for different packages.
For this $11 — totally an amount I can live with — we also get a Canadian news station, Public Broadcasting and the local access station. That’s all I need in my life. The fewer, the better.
Yesterday in Machias, with gas at $3.45, I spent $45 to fill up the tank.
No wonder no one in Machias has any extra spending money these days.
You have to admire a newsroom that comes up with six Pulitzer prizes in a single year, what the Washington Post has just done.
Years ago, when I was in college, my favorite Monday in all of April wasn’t Patriots Day with the Boston Marathon (well, that was a close second). But it was the Monday when the Pulitzer prizes were announced. Seriously.
It used to be such a special thing, stopping at Tim Hortons when Frank and I headed for St. Stephen, New Brunswick.
But now there are 10 Tim Hortons in Maine. You don’t have to be in Canada anymore, to go to Tim Hortons. We were in South Portland last week for Frank’s legal seminar, and there was a Tim Hortons.
I have a problem with that. What’s a Tim Hortons, if it’s not in Canada? I first saw a Tim Hortons in Ganonoque, Ontario, where we went for Louise and Brian’s wedding, what, about 10 years ago?
How much does an 8-year-old comprehend about the national news?
I can reflect on that, because it was 40 years ago today that Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. (And I’m 48).
Grandmother and Grandfather Williams were visiting with us at the time. At her suggestion, our family went out for dinner, at Flapjacks in Potomac, in his honor. I remember all holding hands around the table as she tried to help the kids (mostly Jane, then 10, Gil, then 9, and me) understand.
I know that I didn’t understand at the time. But I do recall looking down River Road toward Washington (it was just 12 miles from Potomac to downtown DC), and seeing the red glow of flames and rioting.
Grandmother Williams, it turned out, had a very, very strong sense of social justice in her. That became very clear to me years later, when she was so upset over the death of Mitch Snyder, the leader of the homeless cause in Washington. I always admired that in Grandmother.
Like I said before, I should blog more often.
Okay, so Frank and I have been married three months short of five years. In all that time, we generally seek out the most basic of hotel rooms — Motel 6 is our style, thank you.
But for three nights, we’re living it up in luxury at the Marriott Sable Oaks in South Portland, Maine. Never in our married life had we had a room so fancy. The fluffy pillows and duvet, the huge king-sized bed, it’s all delightful.
Did I note that we’re not paying for any of this?
Frank is attending a “Moving Mountains” seminar for today and Friday on child protective issues put on (and paid for) by the state legal system. Hundreds of attorneys are here — and to get them here, lawyers who live more than 200 miles from Portland were offered three free nights at the Marriott. I reckon that about nine or 10 Washington County lawyers made the trip, some with wives. Why not?
It’s March 20 today, so we do deserve something spring-like, even though it’s raining today. We still have gobs of frozen snowbanks on street corners. Frank has chopped through the ice pack that has covered our deck since December, although half of it remains.
When snow had melted somewhat, he did rake away the bit against the house where we would see the first signs of spring, where he has planted crocuses. Sure enough, the bright yellow ones are peeping through.
My modest number of signatures — 25 — have been filed with the Secretary of State’s office, so I am officially a candidate for the Maine House of Representatives District 32 seat. That was the easy part - the next step is continuing to collect 50 $5 checks toward the Maine Clean Election Act before April 15. That will qualify me as a Clean Election candidate with public funding, about $5000 to use toward the election eight months from now.
Yee-haw, can’t wait!
Now this one is fun, too:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/politics/interactives/candidatequiz/
My cold, not what’s outdoors. Cough, cough. Sharpness in the throat. Stuffed nose. Hurts to swallow. Zero energy. Achy. Sleepy. Not interested in nothin’. Cough again. Takes forever for the afternoon to pass. And, why does this all have to occur on a federal holiday, when no one else goes to work, either?
Life just gets in the way.
Hasn’t been much to blog about, aside from the weather. It’s been simply awful. There was a stretch of two weeks when it seemed to snow a little, every other day, just dumping more snow on top of snow that hadn’t gone away. One inch, two inches, five inches here and there.
And, the cold … it’s 2 degrees this morning.
Since early December, the university has been closed for five or six full days. There has been two late openings at 10am, and one late opening at noon. There was also one early closing at noon.
Check this out:
http://www.electoralcompass.com/page/0/thema+s/
I am hoping this morning that our two young nieces, 8-year-old Anna and 6-year-old Evie, take a special interest in the first New Hampshire primary results to be counted and announced nationally, those post-midnight ones out of Dixville Notch.
I say this because Anna and Evie can connect their experience last summer, when their family stayed for a week at the Balsams Grand Resort Hotel, and saw the very room - the Ballot Room - where the voting takes place. Ordinarily Anna and Evie would be at their home in Cairo, Egypt, this time of year, but in 2008, they are visiting with cousins, etc., in Washington, D.C. No doubt their accompanying mother will point out the national significance of Dixville Notch this morning, although I’m sure they already reviewed this last summer.
There is far more to share about our 10-day trip to London and Glasgow over Christmas than this, but it’s a good starter. While in London we took the necessary trip to Harrod’s — Frank had never seen its fabulous food hall. We also found the Information Man near one of the entrances, and Frank had quite the moment when he asked a question that came back a startled, “I don’t know!”. Simply, Frank had asked if Harrod’s stocked ukuleles. (They don’t, but we went up to the guitars area, anyway, to check ourselves). The man acknowledged that it’s a rare question that he can’t answer.
Yesterday being January 1 was a day for red beans and rice, of course. Frank prepared it while I lay upstairs suffering with a cold. But we made sure we had it, for the traditional good luck that we hope will carry us through the new year. How I came to feel so strongly about this traditional, I don’t know. But I just can’t shake it, and it’s an easy one to uphold. Besides, we ate it TV-style in the family room, where Frank had readied “The Best of Groucho Marx” on DVD.
This isn’t supposed to happen. We’re on auto-pilot for delivery of heating oil, but Frank reports that we are clean out. The temps in the house this morning was 46 degrees, not the usual 65 degrees we keep it at. We’ll phone the oil company this morning.
Banana Cream Paa is Frank’s favorite. So imagine his delight this evening at the monthly supper in Whitneyville, where the Whitneyville Library Committee puts on incredible public suppers. All the pie you can eat, for dessert. Tonight’s other fare was a choice of fish, seafood or corn chowder, beef stew or cheeseburger soup. The cheeseburger soup was a hit, and was the first to be gone.
There was a choice of pies, too - plentiful and of all kinds. But Frank had eyes only for the banana cream. I took it, too, thinking it was custard. (What do I know about the food I eat? Not much). For being banana cream, it wasn’t bad, actually.
Like, we didn’t need this. Anywhere from 15 inches to two feet of snow. It’s really hard to estimate, but it’s probably closer to two feet.
After traveling up the coast, the storm started here at 8am. School was closed all day, but Frank had about three hours in court before they closed it. It just snowed and snowed and snowed through the night. Today court opens at 10am, and school opens at noon.
Frank this morning started shoveling the very heavy snow enough to get the car on the lower part of the driveway, closer to the road. But the biggest problem is that the snowplow dumps all the snow on our drive, blocking us from getting out. We snagged the snowplow working the church lot across the street, and for $20, he helped us out by removing the four-foot snow bank and plowing the rest of our driveway.
Most people have people who plow them out without asking, but Frank’s been able to dig out most times - except for today. And, it’s only Dec. 3-4. Very unusual, this much so soon. Not to my liking, not at all.
How nice the feeling after travel plans come together. Our Dec 20-30 trip to Scotland, in and out of Boston, involves in and out of London’s Heathrow on the other end. (Hey, the price was right). Only after I booked the trip did I realize just how horrendous Heathrow is, and the holiday element will only compound it.
But we will cope, and the tradeoff is that we will enjoy two full days in London before flying (via Standsted) the evening of Dec 22 up to Glasgow. By returning the early morning of Sat, Dec 29, we gain yet a third day for London discoveries. (It’s the 30th, when we have to make our way very early for a 10am flight from Heathrow, which will be the more difficult day).
We had our hearts set on a Britrail Flexipass for 8 days of travel here and there. But much as Frank loves rail travel, we decided against meandering from place to place, in favor of flying to Glasgow to maximize time with Vevanne and Paul. We will stay longer and linger there. We remember how the days just flew by three years ago, when we spent a week with them. So many Scottish delights, most of all, their fabulous company.
Oh, what will become of this blog? Good thing Thanksgiving came early in November, because that leaves one more week for me to make November entries, lest there be nothing recorded at all for November 2007. Years later, I just won’t have any way to remember this wonderful month. Yes, I will … we all had a most fabulous holiday in Fairfield with the Deans. There were 21 at the dinner, coming from seven households in six states (Virginia, Maryland, Wisconsin, New York, Connecticut and Maine). We also appreciated the closer-than-usual drive. It’s more like nine hours to the Deans, rather than the typical 13+ hours to Potomac.
I anticipate that my trip to the store at noon today will produce nothing less than the dredges of Halloween candy. We have completely forgotten to stock up until now (and it’s Oct. 31 today). Poor kids who come our way …
Frank feels one way about raking leaves, I feel the other.
Frank thinks that leaves are best raked once — after they are all off the trees. I think leaves should be raked up as soon as the yard appears to be horribly untidy. (So far, Frank’s theory has prevailed).
We were away for 4 days last weekend, so we didn’t have the chance for a major leaf-raking. Since we are tied up all this coming Saturday (Nov 3) with putting on a fundraising spaghetti supper to benefit the Margaretta Days Festival, any leaf-raking will be delayed until Sunday.
I think it’s way past time to get started, anyway.
We are having the loveliest of October weather. The colors are nearly peak as we drive around from here to there. Days are warm and sunny, and the rain — very little at that — comes only at night. (Aside from our dark and stormy day on Thursday).
But the weather isn’t what our dear readers want to hear most about, is it?
Weeks on end without a blog entry …
But now it’s October, my second-favorite month after September. Or is it the other way around? The weather has been glorious. No chills yet, rain only gently at night.
Things have been going along so swimmingly I have to remind myself that I am now “virtually 48.” That is, I turn 48 on Oct 15, but the week in advance makes me “virtually” that age. I don’t mind. Birthdays don’t bother me one bit.
Even better, October brings apple cider.
There is so much about September that I haven’t written about … I plan to get back to blogging regularly very soon. But I need to say both Frank and I just had the perfect weekend. In our minds, at least. He spent two nights with the 20th Maine at Fort Knox, and arrived home at 6pm Sunday, very happy. Me - I got to do **nothing** but hang around the house, go through papers, have thoughts. I haven’t had that kind of weekend in the longest time, and it sure felt good.
Believe me, there are more important things to write about, but we have had the alarming distress of having made a trip to the dump on Saturday morning, and having had garbage-eewwy seep into the back seat of the prized PT Cruiser.
Ordinarily we use the older car for a dump run, but that has otherwise sat so long in the driveway that it now has a flat tire. Frank thought he had put down plenty of layers of cardboard for recycling that he didn’t need the heavy cloth that he usually puts down. Wrong.
The stinky big plastic garbage bag leaked something bad. We have scrubbed and scrubbed, but the awful smell is still with us.
Lucky us, we get to go on another road trip. Ironically, we will do three days in Nova Scotia over this Labor Day weekend, which is exactly what we did during the 2006 Labor Day weekend. That trip was fueled by curiosity, and this trip has another purpose.
We’re going on a scouting trip to plan the ukulele club’s three-day visit Oct 26-28 to Liverpool, Nova Scotia, to be part of a big ukulele conference. The real irony is that we went a year ago to the Mersey House in Liverpool to have mussels and beer one evening, then checked at Lane’s Privateer Inn to learn there weren’t any available hotel rooms … and those are the very establishments where the ukulele club has been asked to play on Oct 26 and 27, from 5-7pm.
More as this mission develops …