City Views, Country Dreams

Good evening from New York.

About this time yesterday, I returned home from the shop relieved that I had commenced my week of vacation. Seven sequential days off. Last spring I was also able to have that sort of break and thoroughly enjoyed it.

It was such a pleasure to go to sleep knowing that I would not have to hear the alarm clock's beep on Sunday morning.

Surprises were in store. Around 1:30 am, the sirens of four arriving fire trucks woke me. I do live in a big city, and we are very glad to have various siren-equipped vehicles available on call, each vehicle carrying well-trained professionals. This is our urban village. In the middle of the night it is wonderful to know that a response to an alarm will be quick.

And so, wide awake as I realized that more than one fire truck had stopped somewhere near my apartment building, I wandered over to the window to see what was the matter. (Do you all hear a bit of Twas the Night Before Christmas?) I did indeed see at least three fire trucks and at least five firemen getting out of some of those trucks and entering my building. Smoke? I did not smell it. I sort of took my place at the window, parting the shades, and tried to gauge the engagement of the various firemen. It really seemed that this was not a major emergency, and yet, I did wait to see that encouraging moment when the firemen climbed back onto their trucks and slammed those doors shut, and relaxed to see all the trucks depart.

I went back to sleep.

Not long before 5 am, I was again roused from my usual very deep sleep by the ringing of my telephone. Again, I got up and answered the phone to hear the welcome, even at that hour, voice of a dear London friend. We have known each other for years, yet she still has trouble really, really focusing on the difference in our time zones. All the same, it was great to have this call, and to get caught up with each other. She berates me for working too hard, and for not having been to London in far too many years. We laughed a lot, and eventually I did hang up that phone, and ... got back to sleep.

If I had needed to be up early and ready for work today, those night time surprises would have been trouble. How wonderful to realize, when my eyes next opened, that I did not have to go to work.

Even horrid weather was not a downer. I got laundry and grocery shopping done well before today's series of thunder storms arrived. My building doorman filled me in on the fire brigade visit. Apparently, some tenant on the eleventh floor had sent something that was still alight down the chute of the trash compactor. The lit whatever had extinguished itself prior to the arrival of the valiant firemen, and only smoke remained as evidence. All the same, how good to know that the situation was checked out.

Once all that was sorted out, and the Sunday paper read, and lunch eaten...I took out my pencils, paints, brushes and paper, and...

I did a few pencil doodles, and then, painted this little water color that I will cut out tomorrow and mail out as a birthday card for someone who was once an August baby.

It was so much fun just to play about with the paints, and dot and blot and dot again.

It has been an age since I actually got round to even this level of painting. I am hoping that the next six days will lead me further along the path. Even a giant thunderstorm can be a welcome catalyst.

Best wishes to all for dream-filled sleep.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good morning from New York.

This is my one hundredth blog. I am going to use this momentous spot in time and space to reply to a tag from the wonderful ChrisH of Home Thoughts Weekly. Chris asked me to try to describe myself in seven words.

Although there is not much recent evidence to support this, I will begin with painter. Painting, drawing, printmaking is what I love to do. Regularly however, I seem to push these interests to the back of the queue, time wise. Why is this, I ask myself?

Another word springs to mind, responsible. I was a child who ate her vegetables, did her homework, made up her bed, helped her mom with the dishes, tried to keep cavities away from her teeth (particularly after the orthodontist had been handsomely paid to straighten them.) Early patterns can become embedded. When I graduated from university and began my life as a working adult, I brought that sense of responsibility to the job. This has continued for ... over forty years. Every so often, I do break loose from that yoke.

May I introduce another word, spontaneous. Although many might consider me quite the planner (after all, I am a September-born Virgo,) I think of myself as someone who enjoys making a quick decision, and opting for a big change every so often.

I think that I will claim to be frugal rather than stingy, or those other negative takes on watching one's finances. I still have a rotary dial phone, do not have air conditioning, love to make gifts rather than buy them, bring my own packed lunch to work. Book buying used to be a major weak link in my frugality; however, paying an annual membership fee to a marvelous library has opened up a fresh world of new and old books to my eyes, without my having to shelve or dust them.

Perhaps Chris will allow me to stretch the rules a bit, so that I may an adjective. I would say that I am a caring friend. I am still in touch with folks I met way back when I was around nine years old. It is a delight to meet new friends and to increase this bouquet of connections. My fairly recent acquaintance with the web has made it possible to realize that there are friends all around the world with whom I share many interests. Someone once told me that a "normal person" is someone that you don't know very well. I always smile to think of that description.

I cannot ignore the fact that I am also aging. If I lived in the UK, I would qualify for a bus pass; over here, I am now able to get the senior citizen price on a movie ticket at certain theatres. I now qualify for collection of our national retirement fund, Social Security. However, it is very much in my interests to try to hold off a bit. The longer one waits, the greater the amount of the monthly check. I soon will be 64. This astonishes me, as I still find it easy to identify with much younger people, and carry within me the rebel potential, rather than the conservative tendency.

Let me conclude my seven traits with healthy. For the most part, I think that I am healthy in my body and my mind. (Some might detect a hint of a lyric from the Kinks.) I am truly thankful that I am holding up so well, particularly since I have some dear friends who are not so lucky. Of course, I haven't had a proper general check up in several years, so I might be living in a fool's paradise. A mid-September appointment has been made for said check up and I will know more about which words that doctor will use to describe me then.

The rules might encourage me to tag more people to try to select their own magnificent seven; however, I will gently suggest that if anyone reads this post and would like to give the challenge a go, plunge in!

Best wishes to all.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good evening from New York.

Summer heat, along with its humidity buddy, has reached New York. This is not my favorite season in this city. With my Virginia roots, I could write about weather for hours. I will spare you.

Our news has been focused on a number of obituaries recently. Yesterday, we learned of the loss of the magnificent journalist Walter Cronkite. Reading about the big stories that he reported transported me to my earliest days in New York, when I was still in my very earliest 20's.

Much went on then, good and bad, and helped to shape my adult self. A huge component of that time was political, with the Vietnam War and the struggle for various types of civil rights in sharp focus. Popular music, with emphasis on rock, expressed much of what we were thinking. (Have I told you before that I went to Woodstock?)

So, having given you all a snap course in what was in the atmosphere well before anyone was seen on the moon, I will tell you that when I got home from work tonight, and finally opened the New York Times that had been left at my door after I left for work this morning, I began to thumb through it. I read of Mr. Cronkite, I read of Mr. Obama, I read about Iran and Indonesia. And then I turned the page to the obituaries, and was taken back to those early days.

Anyone who missed the glory days of records, real records and the brilliant graphic designs that formed the covers of those big album covers will not know of Tom Wilkes. If you look him up, you will learn that he has died from Lou Gehrig's disease. You will learn that he designed many iconic album covers and posters.

I would like to tell you my own little Tom Wilkes story.

My first New York job was as a computer programmer for the then very massive corporation AT&T. That corporation also employed lots of folks in much more poorly paid jobs who belonged to a union. When that union went on strike, young programmers like myself, considered management, were called upon to cross the picket lines. I knew nothing about what this meant, being rather naive.

And so I did cross those picket lines and found myself learning how to work an overseas switchboard, alongside of regular switchboard operators who could not afford to go out on strike. I had never before met a union worker. I had never before worked alongside someone who was not white. I had never, never tried to place overseas calls.

In those days, if someone wished to call London from New York, it was necessary to ring up AT&T and make an appointment. The switchboard operator called the UK number, connected with the intended callee, and then called the caller back ... and presto, connected them.

Are you with me so far?

We were never, never supposed to listen in to any of these calls, once we had made that connection.

Confession. I got a call from Tom Wilkes (whose name was very familiar to me from his album cover work) and he was placing a call to a company called Apple. Readers, I listened in. He was designing the famous green apple and the call was to discuss that design. The context meant nothing to me at the time.

A week or so later, John Lennon and Paul you know who announced the formation of Apple Records.

I never, never ever walked across another picket line. I still treasure that early opportunity to find out what it was like to work alongside some people who had not had my advantages. In a way the days that I spent at that switchboard taught me much about life.

Seeing Tom Wilkes' obituary has brought back so many memories of when I was younger, so much younger than today.

Was I wrong to listen in on that call?

Best wishes.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good evening from New York.

I am writing on July 5, but am still thinking about July 4.

July 4 is our national holiday, and it is a day on which we celebrate our independence. There are speeches, songs, parades, visits to beaches and shopping. Most employed people have the day off. Some folks have employment that helps others in their celebrations and those folks work on July 4.

This year many people will celebrate their good fortune in being employed.

Yesterday was a day with glorious weather, a perfect day leading to a grand night for fireworks. Macy's, a huge New York department store, sponsors an annual fireworks display on the evening of July 4. Generally, these displays are launched from barges afloat in the East River, near the eastern tip of Manhattan.

Generally, since I live on the west side of the city, this means that it's way too much hassle to cross the island to watch the sky. I sometimes have watched the display on television.

This year was different. We are commemorating Henry Hudson, and the Hudson River, named for Mr. Hudson. This river is on the western edge of Manhattan, and very close to where I live. This year, Macy's decided to float its barges in the Hudson.

After supper last evening, I thought that I would not be lazily unobservant of the Hudson commemoration. I went to view the fireworks.


It was a quick walk over to the West Side highway, which had been closed to vehicular traffic. Hundreds, if not thousands of folks were already beginning to gather along the two north/south miles of the highway that had been touted as prime viewing locations.

The above photo shows a police vantage point that I passed by to reach the highway. Post 9/11, we often see such safety points. I heard fellow parade goers wondering if there were sharp-shooters within that perch. I just kept walking and thinking positive thoughts.

I thought I would take a few photos to show you the behemoth apartment buildings that entrepreneur Donald Trump has built within the past few years along the riverside.

The buildings are not architectural achievements, but they are very high-priced, and have blocked the river views of many people who have lived in my neighborhood for many years.

I continued to walk southward, and found that the crowds were not so dense as I might have expected. Perhaps the heavy crowding was focused in the mid-town areas. I was glad to not be too crowded. Lots of police men and women were stationed along the highway. Lots of family groups were gathered.

The sun began to set over the west side of the river. This photo shows the "New Jersey coast." It also shows how blurry my photos began to be. I did not put my glasses on, and just clicked away.

Finally, around 9:30, the show began. There were five barges that set off identical blasts. The choreography of the shapes, colors, designs and general ferocity of the fireworks was spectacular and often downright artistic.

At first I did not notice much noise or much gunpowder scent or smoke.

As the show progressed, the barges continued to fire off the jets of light that zoomed high into the air before creating their beautiful afterglow.

I began to realize that my camera technique was not quick enough to capture what I was seeing and so I tried to anticipate the next stage of a particular burst. Sometimes I was more successful than other times!

It was amusing to hear the loud ooohs and ahhhhs of the sophisticated New Yorkers gathered on the highway. We can be very innocent in our reactions to unexpected delights.

I like the above picture even with the shakiness of the focus.

Ooooh! Ahhhhh!

Wow!

Wowwwww!

After a while, I just put my camera away, so that I could really enjoy the panorama in front of me. The show ended with a truly spectacularly loud and flashy burst of multi-color abstraction.

And then the sky was quiet. We all strolled back along the route we had taken to see the show.

I was home in no time, having seen some wonderful city views.

Even so, I still return to my country dreams.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good morning from New York.






When I read comments on my posts, I continue to be amazed by how many arrive from people living very far away. It is such a pleasure to know that even while sitting here in my tiny aparment, I am able to trade thoughts, pictures, information and laughter with folks all across the world.


Recently, I have traded comments with Tulsa http://theartoflivinginjapan.blogspot.com/ who lives in Japan and writes several delightful blogs.


She has tagged me to participate in a game of Five Favorites. I will comply, though my answers may be a bit vague.


My five favorite songs could be Waterloo Sunset, No Expectations, Instant Karma, Once in Royal David's City and As Time Goes By.


My five favorite movies could be The Maltese Falcon, McCabe and Mrs. Miller, anything by Almodovar, Chinatown and Annie Hall.


My five favorite books is a category that proves impossible to list. I might be permitted to list categories? My art history books with favorites on Georgio Morandi, Pierre Matisse, James MacneilWhistler. My art technique books. My needlecraft books. Short story collections by DH Lawrence. Novels ... oh, just too many to list.


My five favorite crushes is another tricky area. Are these crushes to be only fixated on people, or could they be ... wonderful shoes, beautiful gardens, art supply stores, yarn shops or libraries? If people, this is also tricky ... must these people be alive? Then perhaps I'd say Roger Federer, Ray Davies. Since I am not so young, crushes from past times are so much easier.


My five favorite random things. Ah, the window of opportunity opens.

Being able to get outdoors, whether it is by taking a short walk to Central Park, or being able to visit a friend who lives by a lake. Glorious photo above.

Finding free time to draw or paint or visit friends.

Re-connecting with old friends or finding a new friend.

Hearing good news.

Laughing.

Can you all just about see the deer peeking through the edge of the forest that surrounds my friend's home? It makes me laugh to remember how he watched us watching him.

Back to the game.

I would like to invite the following wonderful blogging friends to join the game.

Milla to be found at http://milla-countrylite.blogspot.com/

Cait O'Connor to be found at http://caitoconnor.blogspot.com/

Irish Eyes to be found at http://irisheyestheviewfrommywindow.blogspot.com/

Un Peu Loufoque to be found at http://ttheothersideofme.blogspot.com/

Sue to be found at http://mousenotebook.blogspot.com/

Visiting any of these folks will guarantee any reader a treat. They are five of my favorite writers, and they can lead you to even more favorites.

Have fun with the game of tag.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good morning from New York.

My most recent post was one of many posts that chose a theme of china plates, at the suggestion of Elizabeth, who writes About New York. It was fascinating to see how many other people share an interest in china old and new. The large turn out of crisscrossing comments encouraged the lovely Valerie, who writes as Acornmoon and who "follows" my site, to suggest another theme, Mugs on Monday.

Feeling that I can easily be a mug on any day of any week, I'll share some photos of some of my favorite mugs with you this Monday.


The little bone china mug above was given to me many years ago by a friend who'd come across it in a bargain shop. I love using it to store some of my baking tools. You can just see the tip of a wooden double-tined fork that was carved for me by my late father. I use this to poke a decorative touch on top of biscuits, making their round shapes appear like buttons.

The mug was made in Staffordshire England by Crown Trent. The village scene surrounds the entire circumference of the mug. This and the following photos will prove to you all once again just how much clutter surrounds me.

This tiny mug was a Christmas gift years ago from my mom, and there's a very faint gold inscription over the rose that reads "Love the giver." Well, she's my mom, and of course I love her! There is a circular red stamp on the bottom of this mug that says Made in Germany.

Ah, now here is a breakfast time still life. Coffee in the press, orange juice in the glass, several brown betty teapots ready to step in as needed, and the plain white mug from which I usually do drink my coffee or tea. I bought it at the NY Conran Shop and it was made in Bangladesh. I have a good friend from Bangladesh and I think of her when I use this mug. If I had a dishwasher or microwave, this mug could enter and exit them safely.

Now here is another use for a mug. I like the shape and the pinky lavender of this one, that I bought for a dollar on sale at Anthropology. As you might guess, it is a Chinese-made knockoff of a vintage design. It makes a great receptacle for all the brushes I need to get my make-up applied.

And here is my final Monday mug offering. This was one of a set offered as a promotion by Maxwell House coffee back in ... maybe the 1970's. The printing on the mug is blurry; it is not just my faulty photography. I liked the idea of mixing my instant coffee brands. Maxwell, meet Nescafe. This picture also allows a peek into my minuscule kitchen, and the crowd of postcards that are magneted on to my fridge. Can you see the old card with Diana's image?

Perhaps that might be another them for a post. Do any of you have an odd collection decorating your refrigerator's door? Who has got the smallest kitchen.

I am looking forward to seeing who else has written about mugs today. Think it's time to make another cup of tea. Cheers!

City Views, Country Dreams

Good evening from New York.

A friend and fellow blogger had tipped me earlier this week that today might be a day to write about plate. I had almost forgotten all about this theme until now on Friday evening.

My apartment is far too small to hold as many plates as it does. I love old china, and also admire newer plates with patterns that are vintage inspired.


The above plate is from a set of celadon tinted ironstone I bought in the mid 1970's, thinking that I might as well get something to dress up my tabletop. Floral patterns please me, perhaps just like floral scents also suit my taste. I have never chipped a plate or cup from this pattern.

The above blurry close up of a central motif is part of a set of bone china I bought decades later. It is fun to bring this out every now and then when I have friends for tea. I no longer have room to really serve a dinner party, even it I do have plenty of plates!

This even more out of focus floral design is in the center of plates that I was given. They once belonged to a relative from another era. I am afraid to use these plates, because I would not want to damage them. I don't feel quite so protective of china that I have bought for myself.

Lighting not at all good in the above photo, but I am sure that any of you will recognize the pattern. I was astonished recently to learn that the pattern is no longer made in the traditional way. I regularly use plates, cups and saucers in this pattern. Some are chipped and some are mended. I don't mind a bit.

At some point years ago, I went through a white china phase, and this plate is one of the last remaining pieces of porcelain. The cups from this pattern have beautiful graceful shape, and I have drawn and painted them several times.

Ah, here is another old favorite. These plates, cups and saucers had a rough time of it on my table and there are not many left. I also love the pheasant motif and have painted it many times.

Once I thought that I would eventually have a house, with a proper kitchen and dining room and that china would have a purpose. I no longer have those sorts of plans. Even so, I don't regret having spent time selecting these plates, not to mention all the other antique cups and saucers that find various places of honor in my close quarters.

After all, none of this is being made any more. I never thought my daily china would become so rare during my own lifetime.

Sweet dreams to all.