Maybe We Need a Reboot

I overheard a conversation on the bus heading back from downtown Ithaca the other day. A man seated at the front of the bus was conversing with the bus driver. “I don’t use any kind of social media,” he said. “No Facebook—no nothing—I would rather interact with society in person.”

His statement rang all the way to the back of the bus. It was interesting how everyone’s head looked in his direction as if he had said something absurd.

I’ve often wondered what would happen if the internet went down for a couple of hours—maybe even a day or so. Would people freak out? Would they find it hard to function?  Would they use their phones to call one another? Would they take the time to discover stationery and use snail mail?

Lately, I’ve been feeling like the world is too noisy. That’s the best way I can describe it. Hatred, prejudice, violence—people getting off on other’s misery.  There is so much suffering. The pandemic hasn’t curbed the violence or anything else negative for that matter. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Something has to snap us out of all of this muck.

Faith in Humanity

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Today I had to go to Ithaca to do laundry. My current landlord will not allow anyone to have a washer, even though I am paying for hot water, he said it was not allowed. It’s the cold water he’s worried about. He seems to keep track of cold water usage.

After packing my little cloth cart, I boarded the bus and got off at the Ithaca Commons Green Street bus stop. I had read the reviews for the Fall Creek Laundromat and started my walk to N Aurora Street. It was quite a hike. At 64, I’m used to walking a couple of miles just doing errands but it was a bit much with all of that laundry. I was not disappointed. It was a pleasure to do laundry in such a quiet, clean place.

After my laundry was done, I started my walk back to Green Street. As I walked, I decided to get a couple of bottles of water from CVS so I wouldn’t have to visit the supermarket. On my way, I stopped to ask a woman if I was heading in the right direction. We got to talking. It was like meeting an old friend. This wonderful woman offered to drive me to CVS, and then, to my home. I was stunned. I offered to pay her but she refused.

Nuts for Nuts

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I snack like everyone else. Depending on my mood, I might have ice cream, fruit, chocolate, or something a little salty—like tortilla chips and salsa or nuts or lightly salted Lays.

I recently bought a container of walnuts from Wegmans supermarket, which is like Whole Foods on steroids. Curious about the ingredients, I checked the back and found that it said: Shelled English Walnuts. I had no idea why the walnuts were called English Walnuts so I looked it up.

Like Water off a Duck’s Back

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It was pouring a couple of minutes ago. I was standing by my kitchen window watching as the chickens, roosters, turkeys, and geese ran for cover. I had no idea there would be such a frenzy over the rain. They were practically bumping into one another as they squawked and tried to take cover.

Not the ducks. A few of them continued to enjoy a swim in their little pond and others stood, heads held high as if they were sunbathing.

How I Hate Cleaning the Oven

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Of all the things I despise cleaning the most, it’s the oven. By now, all ovens should have a self-cleaning option. And yes, they should be affordable. I am the type of person that is wiping up spills and constantly cleaning the oven door. It’s the inside part that gets you. Even though I had the kitchen window open, I almost choked to death from the oven cleaner.

There must be a better way to clean an oven. It wasn’t all that dirty, but still, I couldn’t clean it using soap and water. It doesn’t work. I don’t care how hard you scrub. So what’s the alternative?

I scoured the internet after the fact to find out what other folks were doing and was pleasantly surprised. A power drill with scrub brush attachments, baking soda made into a paste, and vinegar (one part vinegar, one part water in a spray bottle) seem to work. Check out this tip by Ashley Poskin: https://bit.ly/2Jvd7r1

Next time a good cleaning is needed (and I haven’t purchased a new stove), I will definitely try this method because baking soda, water, and vinegar are less toxic.

A Waterfall or a Stream?

I am finally getting settled in my new place. I hadn’t slept well for about four days. Between cleaning, putting furniture together, and shopping for necessities—I have been feeling exhausted. I am doing all of this myself and I guess it’s to be expected.

On one of my visits to the library next door, one of the librarians told me that there was a mini waterfall—again with the mini—around the bend. I decided to take a break from cleaning the oven to try and find it.

When I picture a waterfall in my mind it usually has water flowing from the top of a rocky ledge—whether it’s a low ledge or a high ledge—still a rocky ledge. If I see rocks closer to the ground and water flowing among those rocks, wouldn’t that be more like a stream?

I found the covered bridge and not far from the bridge were steps leading to a landing for people to sit and enjoy the sound and sight of flowing water. It doesn’t look like a waterfall to me. Check out the photo. It’s more like a stream emptying from another source. No? Still, I enjoyed my time of quiet in nature—it was healing. I’m sure I will visit the site again since it’s so close to home.

The real waterfalls are in Ithaca. I have been told that they are gorgeous. I’m sure once I am fully settled and before the summer is over, I will visit them.

Fowl Play

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The second day of my stay in my new apartment, I heard what sounded like a fight between a gaggle of geese—I believe a few geese are called a gaggle—don’t hold me to it. The smackdown occurred early in the morning. I thought that the geese had stopped in the vicinity for a visit. I was wrong.

It seems that the small house next door has a mini fowl farm on their property. Also on their property are about six dogs—three of them have a miniature Rottweiler look about them and bark at anyone trying to get a better look at the fowl.

This mini farm has ducks, turkeys, chickens, roosters, and geese—I think. Almost once a day I hear the roosters, and at times, the turkeys.

By the time the first of November rolls around, if I don’t continue to hear that familiar “gobble-gobble,” I am definitely going to be feeling some type of way.

A Little Gratitude Goes a Long Way

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On July 1, I left Westchester County to move to a little hamlet right outside of Ithaca. On the way, the bus passed certain areas that screamed of poverty. It was actually ironic because the houses were smack in the middle of nature’s abundance. It was frightening to see.

The first stretch of the bus ride was pleasant enough—especially since the bus was half empty and people were spread out. Our connection to the second bus was jammed. I had three suitcases to check and they were packed to the brim, and another suitcase I carried on board the bus. I don’t know how I was able to maneuver them. There were quite a few passengers that had those nifty pieces of luggage with four spinning wheels. It makes maneuvering so much easier. I made a mental note to make sure my next set of luggage had the spinning wheels.

When we arrived in Ithaca, my new landlord was waiting for me to drive me to my new home. He was so nice. He took me to a local shopping center first to get a few things, including food.

Things I do to beat writer’s block

There have been times when I write freely and times when I stare at a blank screen or sheet of paper. For some reason, nothing shows up. Writer’s block is perfectionism whispering in your ear. There is fear in making a mistake or some other ridiculous notion. Or you have ideas but are not ready to start writing. It’s okay.

So what do I do? I step away. I go for a walk. I read. I watch TV. I listen to music. I call a friend. Things that make me laugh usually stir the creative juices. Then I return and start with one word. If I have to write or type that word a few times to get going, I do. Most of the time, something develops. If writing doesn’t happen that day, it happens the next.

Burn Baby, Burn

Building a fire is like anything else in life. You have to work at it. I’ve been living in upstate New York for several months and have been experiencing a fireplace for the first time. I just assumed that you piled wood, lit a match, and allowed things to run its course. Not so. Trust me, it’s a workout.

When I stand in front of the fireplace—not too close of course—it feels like the heat is giving me a body massage. It’s like you’re wrapped in a warm blanket. It’s great when the temperature drops or there’s a slight chill in the air. I’ve been told we can continue to burn a fire until the end of March or beginning of April. It depends on the weather. And we know how that’s been going.