I think it's over now, the month-long Hallowe'en Extravaganza. Last night was the Meadville Hallowe'en parade, the largest nighttime parade in the commonwealth of Pennsylvania. The UU church had a table selling coffee, hot chocolate, hot cider, bottles of water and various cookies. We didn't sell much, because the church is situated just past the end of the parade, where the various entries split off in different directions and disassemble themselves.
This morning on the way to church, we saw the remains of pumpkins smashed all up and down Chestnut Street. The sidewalks are still littered with the spills of candy here and there and wrappers strewn everywhere. Humans is humans, even in meadville.
Next time I walk downtown I expect to see the yard four houses west cleared of ghosts, skeletons, black cats, coffins, mannequins and headstones. I'm guessing he'll blow everybody away with his Christmas crap, and he'll probably start on it as soon as the Hallowe'en crap is safely stored wherever it is he stores it.
Luckily, the over-the-top decorating thing is not mandated. Some do and some don't. I'm coming down on the side of don't.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
High Holy Days
In Meadville, Pennsylvania, "High Holy Days" means the whole month of October, leading up to Hallowe'en. Decorating actually starts in September. In the City of Meadville, Trick Or Treat night is the Thursday night before Hallowe'en. The kids are out of school on Friday. The huge Hallowe'en Parade is Saturday.
Last night from 6:00 until 7:30 people brought their kids from miles outside of Meadville to Chestnut Street, the trick or treat capital of Crawford County. The street was crammed full of kids in costume (or not) and containers ranging from plastic grocery bags to the fanciest plush candy-hauling technology I've ever seen. Parents with babies sleeping in strollers collected candy. Teenagers who needed a shave begged for candy. Little ones who were as yet unable to say "Trick or treat" got candy anyway. I ran out at 6:55. My next door neighbor saw he was running out, sent someone to the store for more, and still ran out at 7:10. Two neighbors keep a count. The one on the north side counted 387; the guy across the street had 422. All I know is - it was a lot!
Yesterday late morning I was still thinking about what I wanted to do. I didn't want kids coming up to my porch. At last I pulled out some scrap plywood from the bookcase project and built a portal for the sidewalk at the top of the lower steps leading partway up the hill. I painted it with leftover purple paint from the living room project, stapled our orange lights around it and stationed myself in a chair beneath it. It worked great - until 6:55.
Next year: twice as much candy and more decoration. I'm posting a picture of the yard four houses west of us. Now that's Hallowe'en!
Last night from 6:00 until 7:30 people brought their kids from miles outside of Meadville to Chestnut Street, the trick or treat capital of Crawford County. The street was crammed full of kids in costume (or not) and containers ranging from plastic grocery bags to the fanciest plush candy-hauling technology I've ever seen. Parents with babies sleeping in strollers collected candy. Teenagers who needed a shave begged for candy. Little ones who were as yet unable to say "Trick or treat" got candy anyway. I ran out at 6:55. My next door neighbor saw he was running out, sent someone to the store for more, and still ran out at 7:10. Two neighbors keep a count. The one on the north side counted 387; the guy across the street had 422. All I know is - it was a lot!
Yesterday late morning I was still thinking about what I wanted to do. I didn't want kids coming up to my porch. At last I pulled out some scrap plywood from the bookcase project and built a portal for the sidewalk at the top of the lower steps leading partway up the hill. I painted it with leftover purple paint from the living room project, stapled our orange lights around it and stationed myself in a chair beneath it. It worked great - until 6:55.
Next year: twice as much candy and more decoration. I'm posting a picture of the yard four houses west of us. Now that's Hallowe'en!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
A Reason To Explore
Karen is here visiting for a few days. She and Carmen met at a big law firm in Orlando in 1988 and have been best friends ever since. She has visited us in two houses in St. Cloud, Florida, our house in Orlando, our apartment in Watertown, Massachusetts, twice during our Albuquerque year and now Meadville, Pennsylvania.
Karen flew into Pittsburgh and rented a car to drive the ninety miles to Meadville on Saturday morning. She's sleeping in the living room on two Aero beds stacked like a box spring and mattress. These can be turned up on their ends out of the way during the day, then laid down quickly and easily for sleeping. Easy peasy.
Although she's Southern Baptist, she nearly always comes to church with us when she visits, especially if Carmen is preaching like today. She has a fairly good grasp of the Unitarian Universalist mindset, having hung out with Carmen since we first joined the Orlando church in 1990, and stayed with her through Lesley University, Andover Newton Theological School, and ordination in Albuquerque.
So now we get to see the sights of Meadville with her. Today we ate lunch at Montana Rib And Chop House, our favorite local restaurant, then drove around the area to places I'd never seen before. Then we walked part of Woodcock Dam, and stopped at a wonderful ice cream stand on the way home. It's good to have company. And the weather! It was seventy degrees and sunny, probably the most pleasant day weather-wise we've experienced here.
Rain is forecast for tomorrow and Tuesday, but we are going to try to go to Pymatuning Spillway, where the ducks walk across the backs of the fish (look it up, I'm not kidding.) We've heard about this, evidently the premier attraction in northwestern Pennsylvania, since we first started talking to the Search Committee in January. Several locals have threatened to take us there, but we've held out so far. Looks like tomorrow might be the day we become official residents, having passed the rite of Pymatuning.
Maybe we'll hit a deer on the way back. That's the other thing we haven't done.
Karen flew into Pittsburgh and rented a car to drive the ninety miles to Meadville on Saturday morning. She's sleeping in the living room on two Aero beds stacked like a box spring and mattress. These can be turned up on their ends out of the way during the day, then laid down quickly and easily for sleeping. Easy peasy.
Although she's Southern Baptist, she nearly always comes to church with us when she visits, especially if Carmen is preaching like today. She has a fairly good grasp of the Unitarian Universalist mindset, having hung out with Carmen since we first joined the Orlando church in 1990, and stayed with her through Lesley University, Andover Newton Theological School, and ordination in Albuquerque.
So now we get to see the sights of Meadville with her. Today we ate lunch at Montana Rib And Chop House, our favorite local restaurant, then drove around the area to places I'd never seen before. Then we walked part of Woodcock Dam, and stopped at a wonderful ice cream stand on the way home. It's good to have company. And the weather! It was seventy degrees and sunny, probably the most pleasant day weather-wise we've experienced here.
Rain is forecast for tomorrow and Tuesday, but we are going to try to go to Pymatuning Spillway, where the ducks walk across the backs of the fish (look it up, I'm not kidding.) We've heard about this, evidently the premier attraction in northwestern Pennsylvania, since we first started talking to the Search Committee in January. Several locals have threatened to take us there, but we've held out so far. Looks like tomorrow might be the day we become official residents, having passed the rite of Pymatuning.
Maybe we'll hit a deer on the way back. That's the other thing we haven't done.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Another Hard Lesson
It's easy to get disheartened with this blog business. I hear others talk about their blog as if it's the greatest thing in the world, and I have absolutely no desire to check it out. Therefore, I can perceive my three blogs in the same light - something I am very proud of that I want everyone in the world to read, while everyone in the world is blithely ignoring them due to total lack of interest.
Then, suddenly, I go to the sites and see comments, and the comments tell me that someone out there IS reading them and even getting some sort of enjoyment and/or enlightenment from them. Who knew? And tonight I even got a personal email from a friend. I didn't even know that she had ever heard of Cat Juggler, yet there she was, telling me how reading it had changed her perspective on an issue we are both struggling with.
Years ago in Orlando, I wrote and delivered over a dozen sermons about issues I was struggling with. After the services were over I would stand at the door as people filed out, receiving hugs and handshakes and hearing people telling me what little piece of my message had touched them. Now, as the minister's husband, I am not in a position to do that. My outlet for that part of my psyche is Confessions of a Cat Juggler. No hugs. No handshakes. Only very rarely a comment or even any indication that anyone is reading it.
Evidently, there are quite a few stealth readers out there. I guess this means I'll have to keep writing the damned thing!
Then, suddenly, I go to the sites and see comments, and the comments tell me that someone out there IS reading them and even getting some sort of enjoyment and/or enlightenment from them. Who knew? And tonight I even got a personal email from a friend. I didn't even know that she had ever heard of Cat Juggler, yet there she was, telling me how reading it had changed her perspective on an issue we are both struggling with.
Years ago in Orlando, I wrote and delivered over a dozen sermons about issues I was struggling with. After the services were over I would stand at the door as people filed out, receiving hugs and handshakes and hearing people telling me what little piece of my message had touched them. Now, as the minister's husband, I am not in a position to do that. My outlet for that part of my psyche is Confessions of a Cat Juggler. No hugs. No handshakes. Only very rarely a comment or even any indication that anyone is reading it.
Evidently, there are quite a few stealth readers out there. I guess this means I'll have to keep writing the damned thing!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Changing Seasons
When we arrived here in western Pennsylvania after a year in New Mexico, we were kind of blinded by green. Everywhere we looked the world was green, very different from Albuquerque.
Lately, one by one the trees have been turning bright yellows, oranges, reds and golds, filling the scenery with blazing color - even the ground. Today we went out to Woodcock Lake and walked across the dam. The air was crisp and cool, making the warmth of the sun a welcome thing. There were a dozen or so people walking or jogging or scootering. And, yes, we even saw someone we know from church! Such is life in a small town.
Therein lies part two of the changing seasons. Rightly or wrongly, it has slowly dawned on me that, along with giving up show business as a breadwinning pursuit, along with the sudden realization that I have become a geezer, and along with trying to figure out what this geezer's next breadwinning pursuit might be in this wrecked economy, I also need to get over myself.
Many of the one or two of you who might still be reading these ramblings know me as a smart-ass with a penchant for leaping as far as necessary to drive home a smart-ass remark or a silly notion. That is who I am, it seems, and it is who I can no longer be. I can no longer be the minister's wife. I can no longer be "Damn it, Jim!" I can no longer be "old, beat up and tired" as my status. My position, under the microscope of the congregation we serve, in this small town where we cannot go anywhere without seeing someone we know (or who knows who we are) is that of the gracious, courteous and discreet minister's spouse, with a tightly reined in sense of humor.
Is it possible that I'll bite my tongue enough that it will turn bright yellow, orange and red, then fall to the ground?
Lately, one by one the trees have been turning bright yellows, oranges, reds and golds, filling the scenery with blazing color - even the ground. Today we went out to Woodcock Lake and walked across the dam. The air was crisp and cool, making the warmth of the sun a welcome thing. There were a dozen or so people walking or jogging or scootering. And, yes, we even saw someone we know from church! Such is life in a small town.
Therein lies part two of the changing seasons. Rightly or wrongly, it has slowly dawned on me that, along with giving up show business as a breadwinning pursuit, along with the sudden realization that I have become a geezer, and along with trying to figure out what this geezer's next breadwinning pursuit might be in this wrecked economy, I also need to get over myself.
Many of the one or two of you who might still be reading these ramblings know me as a smart-ass with a penchant for leaping as far as necessary to drive home a smart-ass remark or a silly notion. That is who I am, it seems, and it is who I can no longer be. I can no longer be the minister's wife. I can no longer be "Damn it, Jim!" I can no longer be "old, beat up and tired" as my status. My position, under the microscope of the congregation we serve, in this small town where we cannot go anywhere without seeing someone we know (or who knows who we are) is that of the gracious, courteous and discreet minister's spouse, with a tightly reined in sense of humor.
Is it possible that I'll bite my tongue enough that it will turn bright yellow, orange and red, then fall to the ground?
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Kitten?
Kittens are cute, there's no denying. Even Remus J. Lupin was a cute kitten once. Now he's a huge overweight cat.
For twenty four years we've had at least two cats, and sometimes as many as four. Even if they hated each other, they still kept each other company. I remember good ol' Peanut - he didn't get along with Harvie, Itty Bitty, Yang or Remus, but he loved our little blind girl. They curled up together whenever he came inside.
Lately we've been contemplating getting Remus a kitten, whether he wants one or not. We're thinking, if nothing else, a kitten will help the "Mozzarelly Belly" weight loss program. Nothing keeps a grown up cat on his toes like a kitten.
We know of a dozen or so people with kittens to give away, and they all know our little girl died recently. So far we've managed to stave them off. But it's just a matter of time. ReLu needs a kitten.
For twenty four years we've had at least two cats, and sometimes as many as four. Even if they hated each other, they still kept each other company. I remember good ol' Peanut - he didn't get along with Harvie, Itty Bitty, Yang or Remus, but he loved our little blind girl. They curled up together whenever he came inside.
Lately we've been contemplating getting Remus a kitten, whether he wants one or not. We're thinking, if nothing else, a kitten will help the "Mozzarelly Belly" weight loss program. Nothing keeps a grown up cat on his toes like a kitten.
We know of a dozen or so people with kittens to give away, and they all know our little girl died recently. So far we've managed to stave them off. But it's just a matter of time. ReLu needs a kitten.
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