A Charmed Life

The mouse, the hamster and the boy

So, there's been a lot happening at our house. First, there was my up close and personal encounter with the mouse in the cupboard. In our pantry we have what I believe are original (1900) cupboards hung over counters that appear (by the looks of the laminate and the style of the doors below) to be from say, 1959. One day I noticed there were wood shavings on the counter. I opened the cupboard, where we keep pasta, cereal, and baking supplies, and found more wood shavings and also paper shavings, and also small brown sesame-seed shaped items that were NOT sesame seeds, if you get my drift, and promptly figured out: mouse. Then I did what every self-respecting wife of a handy man does: I closed the cupboard and told my husband there had been a mouse in the cupboard and that "we"--meaning he--should do something about it. (In my defense, I did clean up the mess the critter had left behind.)

The next morning I returned to the pantry to find even MORE wood shavings and a lot more "seeds." Hmmm. We had removed everything that was in a box (and thus gnawable) but left bottles of things. I started taking bottles out and suddenly something small and brown scurried along the back of the cupboard. It was the smallest, cutest, mouse I'd ever seen--no bigger than my finger from tip to tail. Having been raised on Disney films and Beatrix Potter tales, I immediately gave it a back story: It had been out on its first grocery trip with it's mother and, having been dazzled by the varieties of grains and the taste of cornstarch (the corner of the box was nibbled away), it dillydallied and got left behind. Now it was frantically trying to find its way home and then this giant discovered it. Or something like that. Anyway, I tried to nab it with a plastic cottage cheese container, but the poor little thing misunderstood my intentions, despite the fact that I kept repeating over and over, "I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm just trying to rescue you. I'll let you go outside, I promise." I guess this mouse never watched Cinderella or Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, or at least didn't understand English, because he grew even more frantic and finally leapt to the ground and ran away. The next day my husband closed up the holes in the pantry, we disinfected the shelves, threw out anything perishable, and put everything else in gnaw-proof containers.

But that was not the end of our adventures with animals. We have noticed that one of our hamsters, Gennica, has been getting smaller, despite the fact that she eats well and drinks like crazy. (Not to mention running on her wheel at all hours.) I finally became alarmed and sought out a vet that specializes in "pocket animals." She confirmed what I suspected, that sweet Genny has diabetes--apparently not that uncommon in hamsters--and is essentially a dead hamster walking. It cost me $75 to find this out (though they will euthanize her for free), but it was worth it because the vet assured me that this is something that we could not have known or prevented. This is a great relief to Meredith who takes very good care of the hamsters and would have been devastated to think she did something wrong. So, when Meredith grows up and writes her tell-all about her Mommy Dearest, one of you please remind her that I spent five times what it costs to buy a hamster to get it diagnosed so she wouldn't feel guilty about its death, OK?

And then there's a different kind of animal: The Boyfriend. I use the term "animal" not because he is one but because he--as a boyfriend--is the first we've encountered as a species in this household. Olivia now has a boyfriend, just shy of her 16th birthday, and we are all thrilled (and her father and I are a little nervous about where we all go from here). I have no problem putting this info on my blog because Liv and Nate put it on their Facebook pages (so much for the Telephone Song from Bye, Bye Birdie!). Anyway, these two are a perfect match and very sweet, so we are all pleased (his parents, too).

Feeling Chairitable

I got the idea for this flower-filled chair from Susan at The T-Cozy. A few days after her chair planter appeared on her blog, I spied this chair by the side of the road with a FREE sign. The seat was completely gone, but everything else was intact--just what I wanted and at the perfect price! Handy Hubby stapled in the hardware cloth and I took it from there.

I get so many great ideas from Susan and her blog has wonderful vintage eye candy. She herself has reached a certain vintage and is having a special giveaway to celebrate, so go on over and leave her a wish, and maybe you'll be the one to come away with some wonderful vintage party favors.

My Little Town

I love my little town. Today we had the Memorial Day celebration, a big tradition. Can you pick out the flags flying all the way down our street? There's a parade, made up of the town veterans, the fire department, the police, and all the Scout troops. People dress up in red, white, and blu and bring their dogs and kids down to the main street to watch, wave, and cheer. It takes all of 20 minutes, if that, to view the entire thing. We live close to the center of town, so it's a short walk down to the festivities.

There's Meredith marching!

After the parade, we walk over to the town cemetary where there is a brief program--recitation of the Gettysburg address and In Flanders Field by some of the high school students and short speeches--and then we decorate the graves.

 

 

And then we all walk back to the town green where we decorate the monuments to the wars and sing the national anthem.

I've grown more cynical over the years, but I'm still patriotic, and when that flag goes up and everyone is singing with their hands over their hearts, it brings tears to my eyes and goosebumps on my arms.

After chatting with friends on the common, we walked the block home. I still get a rush when I see our house, especially when it's decked out for a holiday.

Am I Dreaming?

 

I dreamed last night I was reliving the late '70s. Harrison Ford was big box office. The energy crisis was making everyone look for "earth friendly" solutions. Gasoline prices were going through the roof, and people were ditching their big, gas guzzling cars for smaller wheels with higher miles to the gallon. Embroidering and embellishing denim was a hot fashion trend, and cork wedgies were popular, too. The president of the US was playing fast and loose with the Constitution, and we were increasingly worried about anti-American sentiment in Iran.

And then...I didn't wake up.

Happy Mother's Day

And all these things I feel and more

My mother's mother felt, and hers before

A chain of life begun upon the shore

Of some dark sea has reached me

And now I can see the chain extending

My child is next in a line that has no ending

And here I am, full of life

Her child will feel when I'm long gone

And thus it is, our story goes on

And on and on and on

And on and on and on and on.

Our Story Goes On

 

This is my favorite picture. If the house were on fire and I knew my family and pets were safe and I had time to grab just one thing, this would be it. Of the three people in it, I'm the only one left.

That's me in the middle, age 5, with my mother and her mother. To be honest, we were never the most photogenic lot. In most family pictures, someone always has her eyes closed, or her mouth is caught in a funny shape, or the shine on her nose reflects off the camera, or we are having a bad hair day (usually that's me). But in this picture, to me, we are perfect--perfectly happy, and perfect-looking, with every bit of our beauty, inside and out, shining through. Each one of us looks serene, happy, and completely natural; the fact that we are all captured together this way seems miraculous to me.

The setting, too, is perfect: This photo was taken at "the cottage," the little bungalow on what seemed like acres and acres of land, but which was probably far less than that, where my grandmother's brother, Theo Christo, and his wife, Thea Thespina lived. If someone said, "We're going to The Cottage," there was no doubt as to which cottage. It was situated on a lake, out in the country, down a tree-lined lane. It was exactly what people today aspire to have when they talk about "cottage style": dormered rooms, genuine barkcloth drapes, a white enamel stove on top of which a pie was always cooling. (One exception: My great-aunt and uncle raised four children there, threw wonderful parties for Christmases and graduations, and never once did anyone think their tiny galley kitchen need to be expanded to 20' x 30', unlike today.)

My cousins and I all had fond memories of The Cottage: there was a green and red striped swing on the back porch overlooking the lake; the adults--our parents and their parents--would send us out to the porch to amuse ourselves while they played cards (mostly Knock and Pinochle) until we nearly rocked the porch with our swinging, and then they would beg us to stop before we broke something (on our bodies or the swing, I never knew). There were always cats and kittens to play with, fruit trees from which my grandmother and great-aunt made jam, flowers to collect in bouquets, and lots of time and space to explore, with one exception: we were forbidden to go down to the lake without an adult.

When I look at this picture, I remember the sunlight off the water peeking through the trees, the picnics outside with the "old" Greek aunts (who were "aunts" even if not actually blood-related and probably younger then than I am now) who wore print dresses and aprons every day if their husbands were alive and black from head to toe ever after if they weren't. I remember everyone making a fuss over me, giving me big, bosomy embraces, pinching my cheeks, teaching me to say "I love you" in Greek and Turkish, and feeding me watermelon and Greek butter cookies called koulourakia.

My  uncle Spero, a gifted photographer, took this picture. He calls it one of his "soul pictures," where the image he has captured transcends the visual to illuminate the subject's inner spirit. He and I don't always agree, but I have to say on this subject we are in complete accord. In this one picture, he has captured the soul of my childhood, and the deep connection between mother and daughter and granddaughter.