day of thanks

There are so many things to be thankful for today. But for now, I am thankful to live in a part of the country that is beautiful no matter what. It's in the mid-40s today, very wet (though not actively raining), and the garden is full of life. The lambs ears are hosting water droplets, the witch hazel is in full bloom, the magnolia will be in full bloom in a few months, and Theo sits in the window taking it all in.

Thanksgiving Day photos (For the best view, click the link and then click Slideshow. 7 pictures total)

tooth drama, continued

Yesterday, I had another uncomfortable session in my dentist's chair. It wasn't painful, but it did make me squirm. I don't actually see the dentist very often except for a quick check and a "you're doing great" at the end of my twice-yearly cleanings. But now that I've developed lots of cracks in my teeth, I think he and I are going to get to know each other a little better.

So tooth number 1 is gone. It took about two weeks to recover from the ordeal, and there are many more steps --and months-- to go before we're done with the former #18.

Yesterday, I underwent work on the next tooth. I guess the good news is that I don't need a root canal (which I didn't realize was under consideration). The doc knocked out the filling, replaced it (with cool ultraviolet technology -- I like that part) and told me I need a crown. It will be gold. I will feel like trailer trash, but that's just me. (He claims that because it's in the back of my mouth, no one will ever see it.)

Next up, and just before Christmas, is the third tooth. Given that it's been throbbing of late, I'm a little concerned about its prognosis. Maybe it's just vibrating sympathetically with its buddies. We'll see.

My dentist purports to specialize in scaredy cats. Here's what many of the dentists I've dealt with so far have said "You did great!" (with an implied "I know it was hard"). Here's what my dentist said yesterday: "You know, you're just going to have to learn to relax. When I work on the crown, I'm going to be drilling at least ten times as long."

Oh joy. So the guys (and gals) who don't claim to help scaredy cats are far more sympathetic and encouraging than the one who puts his claim right on the hanging sign outside his office. On top of that, the dentist did something yesterday that was supposed to further inspire my trust but made me trust him a little less.

The thing is that I'm now partway into this mess and I do admit that this guy is a good craftsman. I do care about that, not so I can look like better trailer trash but so that I can feel more comfortable.

in case you were wondering...

(caution: the end product is not for vegetarians)



And that, my son, is how you make a turducken.

While getting my hair cut this week, I mentioned that I have never cooked a turkey. In fact, I don't think I've ever cooked any meat dish at all. I can put together a tasty Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, with lots of side dishes, and even a main dish or two.

But turkey? Quite fascinating.

not hard work but weird work

The oft-thought-of KAH would say "We may work hard but the work we do is not hard work." I assume he was thinking of his brother toiling away in the plastics factory while we wore our virtual white collars to the office.

I think of that quote often as I get irritated with my commute and the occasional turkey trying to get to work faster and sooner than anyone else. I think of that quote when I'm working on a problem that's intellectually challenging (or maybe it's just me who's intellectually challenged).

But I must say that even if I don't do "hard work," my work has taken a definite turn for the weird lately. I can't say a whole lot right now (ref: dooce, dooced). But I will say this.

Up until I left for our trip, things were humming along nicely with the occasional, predictable bump in the road. That's software development for you. You hit a bump, you figure out how to address it, and you keep going.

While I was traveling, we moved into our new offices (yeah! shorter commute, though still long, and still including afore-mentioned turkeys). And upon my return, that's when all the weirdness broke out.

I came back to discover that our company's plans (though not its product direction) had changed completely. What had been a fairly sure thing when I left has been split up, rearranged, and rescheduled. That was a little surprising, though perhaps fairly predictable. There was a new guy at a fairly high level whom I've now seen but not met (I'm scheduled to meet him this week, over a month after he arrived). Yesterday, through whispered conversations, I heard that there have been some departures and there will be more.

At past companies, these sorts of changes have been promptly and clearly communicated -- you're called into a meeting and someone "in charge" announces the change. They patiently answer questions without providing any real content until everyone gets bored and is ready to leave. It's a known and comforting ritual.

At this company, it's all top-secret. If you work for a communicative boss who keeps you informed, you're lucky. But there seems to be no coordinated plan to talk to worker-bees. That means that you need to stay plugged into the gossip mill and you need to pick your rumor-mongers carefully.

It's not necessarily any better than the content-free update meetings, but it is weirder in that it's so unfamiliar. I sit, I observe, I go to work, I come home, and I continue to think about it.

nice weekend

On Saturday, Robert and I attended the Harvest Ball, the tenth annual such event put on by our home dance in Jamaica Plain. The evening in part recreates a dance program from about 150 years ago.

We started with an elegant pot luck dinner. The hall was decorated with many many tasteful white Christmas lights, jack o'lanterns, and candles set atop table-clothed tables. People brought extremely tasty dishes. I managed to circulate a bit and catch up with several friends.

The dancing was also elegant. Some people actually wore period costumes (there was one especially stunning pink Victorian ball gown made by the wear-er). Many men wore tuxedos, some period, some modern day, but all a far cry from the usual shorts and tee shirts we usually gravitate toward. I wore a black skirt (a skirt!!) and white shirt with lavender bow tie and cummerbund. There may be some blackmail-worthy pictures somewhere out there in etherland (which I'll share if I end up seeing them).

Our caller interspersed slower, more elegant contras with waltzes and other forms of dance. I found the pace a little easier on my creaky joints than modern contras. And as with English dancing, there was a lot of good opportunity for sexy flirtatious eye contact, at least with those who enjoy that sort of thing.

Sidenote: In contra, there's a lovely move called the "courtesy turn" in which one dancer receives another and uses both hands to scoop her around 180 degrees so that she's facing the couple across. There's a way to do that move with just eyes that can make you forget you're on the dance floor or that there are next steps or that other dancers are out there waiting for you. On Saturday night, a few other dancers carried that eyes-only move off with me -- ah, heaven.

And then, at the break, we had a dessert potluck. Oh my, but it was good. And so many senses engaged over the course of the evening -- heart, tongue, eyes, brain. Lovely.

Sunday, we had brunch with dear friends at our favorite airport cafe. It was a perfect day for flying and we got to see many takeoffs and landings. I had carrot cinamon pancakes with citrus butter and real maple syrup, oh, and fresh squeezed orange juice with pulp I had to scoop up with a spoon. Yum. (And it was good to see our friends too.)

And over the course of the weekend, I've been working on pictures from Greece. I haven't forgotten, but also haven't until recently had the energy to really work on them. Recovering from the latest round of tooth problems has taken more out of me than I realized, even as I was going through it. But now that I'm feeling better, I was able to make some progress. You can get a sneak preview of some of the pictures on my web albums site, but I'll make a more general announcement when they're all ready.

Frightening children

No, I haven't been roaming the neighborhood frightening other children. I find these children just a little scary, though. I may be their auntie, but do notice the devilish glare in the witch's eyes.

Eine kleine Nachtmusik

I think I've mentioned before that we subscribe to two local theaters, one within walking distance (Acme), and the other a short drive away (Vokes). Last night, we went to Vokes, that charming little jewel box of a theater in Wayland, to see Sondheim's A Little Night Music.

(Note that the synopsis of the plot included at the link is nearly identical to what we saw, but contains twists making the characters appear more manipulative than the depictions we saw last night. In my experience, Sondheim's characters are not so much manipulative as unaware of their own feelings. They often allow their destinies to happen to them or they wake up to their destinies rather late in the game.)

Vokes does a lot of Sondheim's work, so I've had plenty of exposure over the last twenty years. I haven't always been a fan -- Sondheim tends towards the dark and depressing, and his music can be -er- dreary. In recent years though, I've felt that many of his plays get at some essential truth of humanity, a truth that I rarely see in plays. And I've started to hear some light in his music.

ALNM had some elements of the dark, but it was also farcical and sweet and quite funny. There were marvelous actors and terrific costumes, great music (mostly in waltzes), fun dancing, and good singing. I even enjoyed the oldest and youngest actors in the cast -- a woman perhaps in her late eighties, and a young girl in her mid-teens, both strong enough to stand up to the rest of the cast and to deliver their lines and songs credibly.

Some of the most comical moments happened when the two rival lovers had stand-offs. The first occurred in the drawing room of the object-of-their-affection, with one man arriving to find the other wearing the first man's robe. At that moment, the robe-wearer could easily have been smoking a cigarette, if you get my drift. There followed a marvelous confection of ridiculous explanation, hostile circling and staring, and harmonic whistling of tunes to fill tense silences. The recent arrival wished to undress and demanded his robe. The scene ended with the second man dressed in nothing but a nightgown and nightcap (belonging to the first man), leaving the apartment with all dignity intact.

The play includes a very famous song, often done cloyingly -- Send in the Clowns. I was actually dreading hearing it because I've come to hate it. It turns out that in the context of the play, it fit well, and the actors were able to pull it off beautifully. I imagine that feat to be about as difficult as delivering the Hamlet speech "To be or not to be" freshly and with conviction.

Despite the threads of cynicism throughout the play (marriage is impossible, men are impossible, women are impossible, and whatever happened to good old-fashioned liaisons, anyways?), Vokes did a great job of presenting a fun, and also at times, thought-provoking, evening. Bravo.

embarrassing moments in industry

At our new workplace, we have very cool furnishings -- file cabinets with padding on top and wheels below so they can be used as visitor seats, round lounge chairs in corners where people can have impromptu meetings, tall orange stools in the cafeteria, etc. We also have very small, very exposed cubes with no privacy. I sit with my back to a passage way and people walk behind me all the time. I tend to ignore them.

Yesterday, I was catching up on some work-relevant reading and without thinking about it, scratching an itch on my back a little below my waistline. I was leaning forward a little, continuing to read. And then I felt two large hands on my shoulders. And a voice: "Honey, you're sitting so close to your monitor. I don't want you to hurt your eyes."

I looked up into the face of one of our founders -- the un-shy one, the one who wears gorgeous clothes and is funny and personable and knows me by name. The one who always has the head of HR send out messages about appropriate dress and professional behavior when customers are visiting. "Erp. I was ... scratching an itch." He laughed really hard. I laughed, perhaps a little nervously. And off he went to his next meeting.

Lovely reputation I'm developing. Gotta do something about that itch.

but i never found out about O, Y, I, and V

I'm snuggled into my warm bed, nestled amongst down and flannel. I'm dreaming of a man I've just met who comes from abroad. His name is Red Green Blue Camp David (but his friends call him RGB for short).

A grey-striped fur-bearing mammal gets on the bed and starts whispering sweet nothings into my ear, things like "Don't you usually get up around now?" and "Don't you think I'm especially good?" and "If you're up anyways, would you mind scratching behind my ears?"

And another morning begins. The sun is out, the frost begins to melt, the bed is made, coffee flows.

circle of life

When I worked in Lexington MA, it was an easy hop over to Bedford Center, where at the lunch hour, I could visit my favorite framer. Roy was a big old Italian guy, very opinionated, usually right. I have lots of wonderful artwork enhanced by his vision and craft.

Over the years, I heard about his family, his travels, saw pictures, heard about adventures. I'd come back from a trip with a new piece of artwork and we'd find a great surrounding for it and talk about the trip.

So Friday, with new art from Greece in hand, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. When I arrived, though, I found an empty store save a sign in the window from his wife announcing that he had died in August. Fortunately, she had included her email address.

When I got home, I sent her a note. I said that sometimes life seems very unfair and this seems like one of those times. I said that over the years, I had gotten the impression that she both got and received a lot of love. And I talked a little about my memories of Roy.

Her reply message was just lovely. She said she was crying a lot lately but she was beginning to understand why Roy loved his customers so much. That this was supposed to be his "retirement" job, but he was over at the shop all the time, and he was there just days before he died. Oh sigh. Such a loss.

Today, we went to the farm where we've been getting vegetables all summer. They had an end-of-season potluck. It was so good to be outdoors (especially after cold, windy, rainy yesterday) and to look out on the fields and to be with people who like to live close to the earth.

And one of my friends showed up -- she who lost her husband two years ago and who is continuing to raise their child. I often wonder what it's like to be at the bottom depths and to provide emotional nourishment for a young being who is lost and unsettled. How do you do that when you have almost nothing to give? She seems to be doing an amazing job, coming back to life and to living.

Somehow, the smell of the earth, the calm, the beautiful views, the kind people, the interesting conversations, helped breathe a little life back into me. For that I am grateful.

back to our regularly scheduled program...

Last night, I looked in the mirror at the place where my tooth had been up until a week ago. I saw something I wasn't expecting to see, and decided that the healing was not going well. Maybe I had pulled a stitch out prematurely? Or brushed too vigorously? I imagined that I was going to need perhaps more cutting and certainly more stitches to hold things together better.

So I called the surgeon's office this morning. They were very reassuring and very nice, and after checking with the doctor, said that I was probably fine. They also said that if I was still concerned, it was fine to come in. So I went over. The assistant looked in my mouth and said that the ugly thing I'd seen was a piece of (blush) stuck food. She very gently got it out.

The surgeon came in to take a look and said that I'm healing just fine, and to just be gentle. Phew phew phew. Everyone had a good chuckle and I was sent on my way.

So, back to our regularly scheduled program.

Today, we're meeting a new financial guy -- did I mention that the one I had, of whom I was very fond and to whom I was very grateful for his help, had died back in August? So it's time to get back on track with that.

Oh, and my doctor does not accept the Yet Another Insurance company that we're switching to, nor is he planning to take on new insurance companies (or new patients for that matter). I'm very fond of him and I'm dreading finding another doctor -- last time, I went through two interim doctors who just weren't cutting it. This one does cut it, but I don't want to find out what paying him out of pocket feels like.

And maybe it's time to switch dentists, too. I love my hygeniest, I think my dentist is a fine craftsman, but I'm not really happy with his chair-side manner, especially after this latest episode. In fact, he was downright brusque, dismissive, and a little insulting to boot. And this is the guy who advertises himself as being good with "scaredy cats" (that would be me). Uh, apparently not if something is going wrong.

So we have a few projects on our plate, and I'm hoping that all upcoming transitions will be smooth.

hallowe'en, handily survived

Hallowe'en has come and gone. I'm always a little excited about it and always a little glad when it's over.

This year, Robert got a gigantic bag of assorted chocolate goodies and another gigantic bag of assorted hard and sugary non-chocolate candies.

This year, our town has Reverse 911 -- that phone system to be used in case of emergencies (Your house is about to flood, go up in flames, or both at the same time, all during a blizzard, and the chief of police calls to let you know that it would be best to leave, that is, if you can join the creeping line of traffic trying to evacuate the area.) Except our police force is having just a little too much fun with it.

This week alone, we've received four calls. One was to let us know that the yearly "merchant's Hallowe'en" evening was happening (as it has every year since before I was born, I think). Roads would be closed. Children would be about. Then there was that water break over on Acton Street. Then the water break was fixed. Then yesterday, there was a message about Hallowe'en -- the hours, suggestions for costumes (a little late, maybe?), and a strict warning that vandalism would NOT be tolerated (was it before?). Our men in blue, always at the ready.

Anyways, there was the usual assortment of tiny cute kids, some of whom were too little to actually understand why they were placed in front of a stranger's door and what that stranger was placing in their buckets. There were kids who wanted to reach into the candy bowl themselves (we actually like to give the candy to the kids). There were not as many little tykes as in the past and there were hordes of older kids, many of whom didn't even bother with a costume (hmm, maybe we're working our way through a population bubble). Some of the older guys, in fact, just brought backpacks, and I imagine had visions of frontloaders lining up to supply them with sugar for the next month.

Also in the older kids category were some newer trends -- girls talking on cell phones (though this year not *while* I was giving them candy), girl-and-boy friends snogging on the street between collecting candy at various houses (can you say "caught between childhood and adulthood"?), and a new category in older teenage girls -- the Super Slut -- girls not so much wearing costumes as outfits, and not particularly appropriate ones either, especially given all the other activities going on.

OK, so here's a list of my votes for favorite costumes this year:

• A lightbulb: cardboard around the torso, lightswitch at the belly, and hat made up to look like a lightbulb, complete with (safety first!) glowsticks for the filament.
• A toilet: cardboard around the torso, candy receptacle in the bowl, and attached to the top of the tank, a newspaper, a book, and a box of Kleenex.
• A cute little girl dressed up as a 50s diner waitress, complete with granny-holders on her glasses. Adorable.
• A teenage boy dressed up as Jonathan Papelbon, complete with Red Sox jersey and red plaid kilt. (No broom though.)

The candy is almost completely gone. The street looks fairly quiet this morning. From my perch here, I see no toilet paper or shaving cream. And we get to do it all again next year.