Some people really know how to treat their local carpenter.
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Welcome Mat
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Yearly Archives: 2005
Piano Man
A rapt roomful listening to Rick Scalise.
Flo never misses his concerts.
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I recorded Rick’s last piece, a Hungarian something or another which he claimed was ultra popular. Sounds tinny coming from my camera.
Flo poses with “the other two dummies.”
Patricia Finlay
September 14, 1955 – November 8, 2005
Photos displayed at yesterday’s Memorial Reception .
Sunset Strip
Peter, Patti and Peter’s brother, Jim. (1987)
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Toons
Here are two cartoons from recent New Yorkers Chris handed me today. First, this one which Fern* and I both found quite funny, and secondly, this cartoon which only I laughed at. But I laughed hard enough for both of us.
I’m fond of the “Get busy living or get busy dying, that’s goddamn right,” quote, but I surfed around and found this . My, what a voice that man has.
* ” Jim Brandon who fought crime as the Avenger was a famous biochemist who perfected two inventions that aided him in the fight against crime: the telepathic indicator allowed him to pick up random thought flashes, and the secret diffusion capsule cloaked him in the “black light of invisibilityâ€. The only person that shares his secrets and knew that he was The Avenger, the man feared by the underworld is his beautiful assistant Fern Collier.”
For the time being I’ve decided to call Diane Fern Collier. I think it fits.
Deer Kills
Lovewell Pond
On the way to Mark’s to return his lawn mower, borrow more firewood and have donuts and coffee. This early Saturday morning drive is traditionally one Adam and I take together, but he’s far, far away.
View across Lovewell Pond from Mark and Jan’s property.
Rough Cut
Last Saturday, I sped out to Mark Queijo’s house to borrow his lawn mower and grab another trailer (his) load of firewood, and of course there is no getting near that guy without helping him do seventeen other things (you might call it equal trade, but believe me, he’ll be in the red as long as he lives).
Mark’s adding a set of stairs to his back deck and hacking them out of rough cut lumber. Lumber that’s one step away from its source – the bark is removed and it’s cut to width and length but not dressed. Think wood that actually measures 4×6 or 2×4. “Wait until you see this lumberyard, you’ll love it,” he cooed. As if to make the extra hour away from my weekend chores worthwhile. But, as usual, he was right. Buried off in the woods of Orange, Ma., this place is a step above the Walton’s saw mill.
Sign on the door.
Forty-eight inch saw blade. Where’s Nell?
View from the backside.
However, and this is where this ditty is going, what do you suppose was the first thing Mark did after he jumped out of my truck? It is such a typical guy thing .
It reminds me of the end of my Maine canoe trips with Dan, when he changed his shoes and socks in a restaurant in Millinocket. Might not look like much to a Bostonian, but it is a place where others enjoy food. Alright, it’s not an exact parallel…still.
Adam Checks In
So we found a place with a card reader — let me know how the attached come through (shrunken with Microsoft Paint, whatever that is).
We took a bus to Siena today, which was beautiful but even more of a ripoff for unwary tourists than Firenze. Glad to be back. Tomorrow we climb the Duomo (we hope) buy some last stuff, and Friday we fly to Brussels. We’re there all day Saturday and fly home Sunday via New York, arriving in the neighborhood of 4:30.
The weather sucked yesterday, which gave us a good excuse to do little and retire to our hotel room to read and nap. A nice dinner out, the evening ambling abbreviated by iffy weather. Today was supposed to be a big adventure, somewhat soured by tourist trapping.
We may or may not check in one last time before leaving, or possibly from Brussels.
Take care!
Adam and Tricia
Siena
San Lorenzo
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Lunch
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Brunelleschi's Dome
Well, Internet here’s pretty low-tech, and picture uploading apparently not really an option, so we’ll have to make do with words.
We’ve been having a great time, walking everywhere until our feet and hips finally say “Basta!”. Then we return to our hotel room for a nap before heading our for dinner. Last night at a great pizza place we each pretty much killed our own bottle of wine … They’ve been great at our hotel, explaining things in English or Italian, as I’m able. They steered us to a great pen store at our request today and have been wonderful about restaurants, giving us our most memorable night out yet (which we’ll probably repeat for our last night here). Tomorrow we’ll go to the Accademia and maybe climb the Duomo (I read all about its execution in Brunelleschi’s Dome on the flight over and want to see the inside). Wednesday I think we’ll go to Siena (it’s Ognissanti or All’s Saint’s today, with reduced schedules). It’ll be good to leave the bustle for a bit — being a holiday today, it’s been incredibly hectic.
Adam
Brunelleschi’s Dome
Well, Internet here’s pretty low-tech, and picture uploading apparently not really an option, so we’ll have to make do with words.
We’ve been having a great time, walking everywhere until our feet and hips finally say “Basta!”. Then we return to our hotel room for a nap before heading our for dinner. Last night at a great pizza place we each pretty much killed our own bottle of wine … They’ve been great at our hotel, explaining things in English or Italian, as I’m able. They steered us to a great pen store at our request today and have been wonderful about restaurants, giving us our most memorable night out yet (which we’ll probably repeat for our last night here). Tomorrow we’ll go to the Accademia and maybe climb the Duomo (I read all about its execution in Brunelleschi’s Dome on the flight over and want to see the inside). Wednesday I think we’ll go to Siena (it’s Ognissanti or All’s Saint’s today, with reduced schedules). It’ll be good to leave the bustle for a bit — being a holiday today, it’s been incredibly hectic.
Adam
Southpaw Rakkity plays Three-way Racquetball
Katie, Patrick & I recently restarted our traditional 3-way racquetball meets of Friday afternoon. Patrick & I always have played left-handed to make things more even for Katie.
Winding the racquet safety string around my healing left wrist, tight enough to support the racquet, I announced to Katie and Patrick that I was going to play them left handed today. They were both initially incredulous, but I said that my physical therapist was trying to get my grip back to full strength, and this was as good a way as any. KT served first, and from the beginning as well as later, she took advantage of me mercilously. All her serves crawled along the right wall, and as I was on the right and Patrick was on the left, my returns had to be with my normally poor, and currently pitiful, back-handed left. Without the help of the safety string the racquet would have flown across the court, at least on the few occasions when I managed to hit the ball. Usually I just flailed.
Patrick flailed too, though with more zip and power. When it was my turn to serve, I couldn’t even get the ball over the foul line, and double faulted. Then it was KT’s turn to torment me with her wall grazer serves, For my next few serves, my feeble swing didn’t succeed at getting a ball into play until the score was 6-2-0 (K-P-D). Then at least I got the ball into play, sometimes accompanied by a wrist twinge or two. For the entire game, KT dazzled, bamboozled, and baffled her two patzer opponents, volley after volley, until she finally won, 15-2-2.
In the second game, I tried a new strategy, since I couldn’t hold the racquet tight enough to return the ball with anything more than an arching bloop. My first attempt was a golf grip with my left hand grasping the racquet and my right hand pressing against the left index finger and thumb. That didn’t violate the rule of the game that I had set–it was still basically left-handed play. The extra arm in the swing, though, threw off my coordination, so I missed the ball completely in my first attempts. But on those occasions when I connected, I could give the ball a good smack. I scored two points that way, and then started developing on a baseball grip. This got me a couple of more points. Meanwhile, Patrick, still playing left handed, had regained his eagle leftie eye, and was beating me and KT 11-4-4. KT and I stopped his momentum for a few more volleys, me with my baseball grip, and she with several spectacular diving kills. But Patrick went on to beat us soundly, 15-6-6.
At last it was 6 pm, end of our court hour, time for me to go meet Beth at the local Tex-Mex, and time for KT & P to fix their dinners at their apartments. We congratulated each other with hugs and went our separate ways. So what if I lost both games, my therapist will smile at me when I tell her I played (or tried to play) left handed r-ball. Tonight I expect I’ll have to dip into the Ibu-advil Motrin pillbox again, but next game I’ll have that baseball swing down pat and my southpaw racquet game will be stronger.
rakkity
Peter’s brother, Jim Finlay.
Michael and Jim
Photos by Emma