LXII

This year, since the day falls between two summer trips, one to Buffalo and the next to Kilmarnock, VA, I'm spending a quiet birthday at home. Oh, I woke up to a shower of gifts from Heidi, each more thoughtful than the last, and I got that bread baked, too. Despite the oppressive heat, we made a trip to the farmers market for some peaches, blackberries, and humanely raised chicken for supper, and Treat and Nadika will be here to celebrate in just a little while. I also got a chance to catch up with my sister, and we're meeting my brother down on the Northern Neck tomorrow.

As I write, I've got my eye on the weather, hoping for a nice, big thunderstorm to break the drought and drench the garden. I think we're going to get it, too. One more gift on an already wonderful day.

Good Plan

"Do you have any plans for your birthday tomorrow?" asked a neighbor this morning.

"Not really," I shrugged. "I'm definitely going to bake off the bread I made today."

"Will that bring you joy?" she replied.

"Yep!" I answered without hesitation.

"There you go, then," she said.

It Fills Me Days, Luv

There was a short time back in the early 90s when I was between cooking jobs. Then, my days consisted of housekeeping, cooking, an occasional free-lance catering job, and reading British murder mystery novels while drinking tea. 

And would you suppose are the first two audiobooks we have cued up since my retirement? Well, a couple of clever, contemporary British murder mysteries: The Alperton Angels and How to Solve Your Own Murder.

Just lovely!

Conclusion? Jumped To!

I was frankly shocked yesterday when I received a reference request from a neighboring school district for a colleague of mine. 

What's all this?! I texted.

Receiving no reply, I clicked over to the form and thoughtfully composed my responses to questions such as:

What are the applicant's strengths? 
What are the applicant's areas for improvement?
Do you think the applicant is qualified for this job? Why or why not?
What is/was the applicant's reason for leaving the position?
Is there anything else you would like to add about the applicant?

Perhaps 30 minutes later, just as I finished the form, my friend texted back. Oh, it is subbing for my sister for summer school, I guess. lol.

I shook my head and sighed. 🤣 If you want to reply for any other jobs there, you're all set! I replied and hit submit.

Cues for Aging

"You know you might like to check out some acts from this century," laughed the spouse of a colleague when he heard that we had tickets for James Taylor's summer tour. I laughed too, because he was not wrong.

And, to be honest, there was a lot of white hair in the audience last night when we settled into our seats to wait for the show to begin. "He'll be on around 8," the usher had informed us. "He's taking a little nap right now," she finished, conspiratorially.

As we waited, I took the opportunity to people-watch, in particular, checking out my fellow concert-goers' outfit choices. I had gone with jeans, a black T-shirt, and flip-flops, a look I hoped was classic enough to be cool. There were a lot of faded concert shirts from other years or other bands. Many guys wore cargo shorts with polos and baseball caps, and lots of women had on capris and sleeveless tops. 

Almost everyone looked, well, old. I did see a couple who broke the mold a bit-- her brilliant white hair was in a flawless, long bob; she had funky glasses, wide-legged pants, and some cool sandals. He had wavy hair brushed back in almost a retro, 70s style, nice shorts, a stylish short-sleeved button-up shirt, and leather flip-flops. 

My fashionista observations were put on hold when the house lights dimmed, and the band took the stage. A montage of video clips from 1968 to recently of James Taylor singing "Something in the Way She Moves" played on the jumbotron. Then the lights came up, and there was the man himself, picking up the song live. His 76-year-old voice was not as robust as it once was, but his face was still youthful, and we could see his blue eyes twinkling from the 12th row.

But it was inescapable: JT, that long-haired hippie guy from my high school years, was dressed like somebody's grampa going out to lunch—he wore a golf shirt buttoned all the way up, baggy gray trousers, sport coat, and snap-brimmed hat. 

Maybe? I thought, Maybe that look could be his thing. Like me and my half-moon readers, or anyone who embraces early gray hair, perhaps he defies old age by taking those traditional emblems of it and making them, well, cool.

International Dining

One of the cool things about Buffalo is how close it is to Canada. So near, in fact, that Heidi's family's favorite Chinese place is in Fort Erie, just over the Peace Bridge, and their go-to beach, Shirkston, was on the Canadian shore of Lake Erie. It used to be nothing to cross the border back and forth; people regularly lived in one country and worked in the other.  All that easy access changed, first after the attacks on September 11, 2001, and then again during the COVID shutdowns and these days, traveling between the U.S. and Canada can be much more complicated than before. 

But not always. Last night, the four of us drove to Niagara Falls, Canada, to have dinner at Swiss Chalet. This Canadian chain is known for its rotisserie chicken and proprietary sauce (not sure where the Swiss connection comes in). There used to be a few outlets here in the States, but more than a decade ago, they packed up their roasting spits and moved back home. 

Some of Heidi's family has been mourning the loss ever since, and they are more than willing to make the trip to enjoy a favorite meal. And that's how we found ourselves rolling through Canada last evening. The light was golden as we crossed the Niagara River, and immigration and customs were quick and polite. Before long, we were driving to a Canadian strip mall, so like those in our nation, and yet so different. There was no question we were in another country, and that was cool.

The chicken? Was dry, and the sauce, heavy on the allspice, was not to my taste at all.  But the Molson on tap was cold, and I would go again any time, both for the good of the group and the excitement of being somewhere else.

Have You Met Me?

At last, the heat has broken, and today dawned clear, cool, and sunny—all the things we have come to love about Buffalo summers. As I sit beneath the awning on the patio, a refreshing breeze passes through the trees, and the smell of fresh-cut grass wafts over the fence from next door. We took the dogs for a pleasant three-mile walk this morning, and I know I should relax, release my restlessness, and enjoy the downtime.

Yeah, that isn't happening.