tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65781776483583359312012-01-01T09:37:55.049-05:00General observations on life from Kathleen MeadJeez Louisenoreply@blogger.comBlogger221100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-24880815174619381882012-01-01T09:37:00.004-05:002012-01-01T09:37:55.062-05:00

FADE IN:  Montage of turning calendar pages and changing seasons. I am happy to be back and maybe, for a wee indulgent moment, to look back at 2011.  I lost my dad in March.  He was a force of nature and until the day he died, I don't think I ever believed that he would.  He lived most of his 83 years, on his own terms.  And from all accounts, he died the same way.  He played golf, and won, 

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-8805778321466040822009-12-31T10:28:00.000-05:002009-12-31T10:28:52.613-05:00

It is 10:30 am on New Year's Eve.  Being a sentimental sort of a gal, I do look forward to the New Year and the fresh start it offers.  Not the quit smoking and lose twenty pounds kind of fresh start.  Although years ago when I smoked, I did often quit for the New Year.  No, I am talking more metaphorical here.  The symbolism of a clean slate.  Do Over.  Mulligan.  Pentimento.  Call it what you

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-82128033851704567062009-12-16T17:54:00.003-05:002009-12-16T22:05:33.747-05:00

I was in the supermarket this morning.  In the midst of the bustle the sound system played Christmas carol standards from Ella Fitzgerald and Dean Martin.  I rushed around trying to get the very last of my shopping done.   Then because I really needed it, the Chinese Dance from the Nutcracker began to play.  I stuffed my arms up into my sleeves and gave my best imitation of one of the Chinese

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-69989393728308076862009-11-27T10:26:00.002-05:002009-11-27T17:32:30.241-05:00

My friend, Liz, is an avid treasure hunter.  Not deliberately, but she is such a great observer that she can come up with just about anything while walking along the shores of Liscannnor Bay.  Unusual rocks, fossils or the fragile heart-shaped shells that float up on mounds of seaweed around Brigid's Day, there is always treasure on the beach. A few years ago, one Easter Sunday, after a week of

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-28387458100625613922009-11-17T07:01:00.226-05:002009-12-03T09:20:45.945-05:00

When I moved to Ireland I had a coffee habit befitting a woman who lived in a neighborhood with a Starbucks on every other corner.  And I had it bad.  I suffered severe coffee withdrawal in the first few days I was in County Clare.  At that time you couldn't really get a proper cup of coffee.  Even if you ordered one in a posh restaurant, chances are, you got a cup of instant coffee.  Higher end

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-57925875168514061662009-10-25T14:46:00.008-04:002009-10-28T20:02:48.547-04:00

Turfless - to be destitute of turf. We woke at sunrise, the hound and I, and got dressed for our walk. The clear, bright Autumn Sunday with no wind blowing let the factory smells fade away, leaving only the crisp scent of the morning and the falling leaves. As we stepped through the door, we each sniffed the air. Eloise chasing evidence of her arch-nemesis: Big White Cat. Me, searching for

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-34769929068115502902009-10-11T19:48:00.001-04:002009-10-28T20:13:48.545-04:00

Disney World Orlando.  What an amazing place! I have sunburn on my nose and blisters on my feet.  Lots of blisters.  There are little tiny geckos running around everywhere and while I think they are adorable, I am really hoping that one of them doesn't jump on me. I was on safari in the Animal Kingdom.  I saw the Muppets in 3D.  I flew in a hang glider over the Golden Gate Bridge.  And I threw

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-63363571132896599152009-10-06T17:39:00.005-04:002009-10-25T18:19:21.917-04:00

One of the zombies slipped a Hannah Montana lip gloss ring on the little girl’s index finger. Vanessa gave her mother one final spin to show off her meticulously mismatched outfit before planting a pink flowered boot on the first step of the bus. “Have fun, monkey butt,” whispered her mother. She waved goodbye and gave the driver a big smile as she looked for an empty seat. When she was

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-47819522262994494402009-09-29T17:19:00.000-04:002009-10-25T10:08:06.127-04:00

Oh man.  I finally did it.  I have been dancing around it for ages.  I spent twelve hours researching.  I collected six authentic recipes and three that were just silly.  I interviewed several people about their experiences. Compiling all of this information, I waited until the time was right.  Today. Lunchtime.  I was hungry.  I had a few spuds from my sister's garden.  I was ready. I reviewed

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-23868704936917141752009-09-28T08:37:00.000-04:002009-10-25T10:07:24.569-04:00

I turn the key and step out onto the roof. Autumn blankets me as I settle onto the wooden bench. I smile to myself as I put the key into my pocket. I borrowed the original years ago. Lied straight into the face of hardware store owner who questioned me about the ‘SECURITY KEY DO NOT COPY‘ markings on it. A little white lie, nothing sinister. Only self-preservation. Everyone needs a place

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-25964242889159919022009-09-10T17:00:00.001-04:002009-11-27T18:12:53.452-05:00

As the warmth of Summer begins to fade and the garden gives up its last few treasures, I am trying to squeeze the most out of what is left. I had high hopes for the garden, but it all didn't go as planned. My inexperience and enthusiasm combined to create expectations that were tossed about by the poor weather and the blight that hit the tomatoes in our area. When I started to plan the garden,

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-80584734438051315112009-05-05T07:46:00.000-04:002009-10-25T10:03:07.915-04:00

Dog hair is a fact of my life. Long white dog hair, courtesy of my trusty pup, Eloise. It is in my carpet and in my purse, in my closet and occasionally in my refrigerator. I am used to it. The people around me are used to it and graciously pick the strays off of me when they spot them. I do what I can to get rid of it, but she always makes more. Always. I try to brush her every day and

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-80840624543963724332009-04-19T06:52:00.001-04:002009-11-27T07:47:28.944-05:00

One Spring morning a long time ago when my mother was returning to the house after her daily walk to get the mail and the neighborhood gossip, the phone rang. It was the local Post Mistress. Her message was simple, barely audible over the shrieks of the other postal workers. "Mrs. Mead, you must come here immediately. Your parcel has chewed its way out of the box and it's running around

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-85427201800851766672009-03-19T07:15:00.000-04:002009-10-25T09:59:56.709-04:00

Spring is here. I have it on good authority. Not the conventional good authority like groundhogs, daffodils or seeing the first robin that some folks like to follow. Real authority. This morning as I walked with Eloise, I was delighted to see that the plastic snowman at the tree house is now sporting a pair of glittery bunny ears and the tree is covered with pastel eggs lights and fuzzy

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-86900377433495824662009-03-12T15:29:00.000-04:002009-10-25T09:59:28.791-04:00

I love Marshmallow PEEPS! And I am not ashamed to say it. That's the thing about PEEPS! You either love them or you hate them. I love them. Really love them. The sugary goodness--the exclamation point in the name--the sheer whimsy. What's not to love? However, I am a purest. I like the yellow ones and preferably the chick-shaped yellow ones. They taste the best. I don't need

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-15893054886437090102009-03-01T07:07:00.000-05:002009-10-25T09:55:58.024-04:00

This time of year in the west of Ireland, there appears a shade of green that is present at no other time and, I'd like to think, at no other no other place in the world. It shows up at the moment when the winds are high and the sea grows wild and fierce, fighting with the land for the control of the season. It appears, not so much as a colour but as the intention of a colour, overlaying all

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-86064253580199432532009-02-09T08:17:00.000-05:002009-02-14T19:55:12.162-05:00

I look up toward the onion domes of All Souls up on the hill, but they are missing. I peek down the street at the impressive wall of fog. It reveals, at most, 20 feet in front of us as the pup and I begin our walk. The town materializes slowly as we go. The dog doesn't seem to notice. I find it a little disconcerting. This place is no Brigadoon, appearing out of the fog once every 100

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-71724873273506881592009-02-01T23:13:00.000-05:002009-10-25T09:48:06.863-04:00

As I pull up, there are dozens people in the street in front of my house. I high-fived a few fellow fans on the way to my front door. The crowd is cheering, cars are honking and there is an occasional firecracker off in the distance. Here in the Mon Valley, we don't have a lot. The economy is bad, jobs are scarce and frankly, the water tastes funny. But one thing we do have is the Steelers

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-80956954807714207182009-01-26T09:53:00.000-05:002009-10-25T09:54:27.037-04:00

My friend, Mary, is fond of saying 'sometimes your heart gets broken and sometimes it gets broken open.' This morning, my dog and I were walking in the park along the Monongahela River. The snow was falling in big fluffy flakes that stick on your nose and linger a moment before melting. Ours were the first footprints in the snow. I always love that. Normally, we play a little frisbee in

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-59857905778805461472009-01-20T15:49:00.000-05:002009-10-25T09:51:50.249-04:00

A few months ago, I was sitting in the Monongahela Aquatorium with my family. It was my first real American 4th of July after living out of the country for six years. The threatening rain had passed us by and the skies cleared. We had funnel cakes and frosty cold Coca Cola as we waited for the fireworks to start. The bleechers filled up. The DJ called a limbo contest to entertain the

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-77345227608042883132009-01-18T15:41:00.001-05:002009-10-25T09:50:38.110-04:00

I believe with reasonable certainty that I read an article on the National Geographic website this morning announcing that excess consumption of coffee can cause hallucinations. The link, according to the little red bird hovering over my desk, is http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/01/090114-caffeine-hallucinations.html Holy Cow. This explains everything.

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6578177648358335931.post-11152229362540768692009-01-14T06:43:00.000-05:002009-10-25T09:49:07.488-04:00

Since returning to America a little over a year ago, I have been spending quite a bit of time thinking about home. Yesterday, the anniversary of my mother's death, had a spark of realization, something I had never seen before. With her final heartbeat, my sense of home was changed forever. For the first 19 years of my life, I never questioned what or where home was. Once she was gone, home

Jeez Louisenoreply@blogger.com1