Mockingbird Hill Cottage

Mockingbird Hill Cottage

A Bit of a Milestone

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Anniversary of my birth. Natal Day. Birthday.

Whatever you call it, I’m 70 years old today. Actually, not quite yet, as I was born around 5:30 pm. I like to delay the actual year count until that moment, futile as it might be.

Lucky for me, Don is always about a year and a half ahead of me, so he helps me through it. And he assures me 70 is just fine. He asked me if I wanted some sort of party or celebration, but I really want a quiet day at home with him. I used to love celebrations and lots of excitement, but that part of me has faded and the quiet, introverted Claudia has taken over. Actually, not all that quiet around here, as I’m frequently making a joke or going for a laugh. Nothing makes me happier than to say something unexpected to my husband or do a silly walk or sing a funny song I just made up, or speak in a funny voice (and I have a lot of them) to get a reaction from him. I would say that he definitely feels the same way. We laugh a lot around here and for that I’m so, so grateful.

I wish my parents were here. And my brother. Mom was 25 years older than me, so she’d be 95. Dave was 5 1/2 years older than me, so he’d be 75. And Dad would be 99! What would they think of me turning 70? Mom would have a funny and slightly sarcastic response, of that I’m sure. But I’ve already heard from my beloved sister and youngest nephew. That makes me happy.

I have much to be grateful for and believe me, I am. I’ve accomplished a lot in my life. Whatever goals I had long ago, I think I’ve surpassed. But always, always, it’s the people I’ve met and worked with and grown up with and taught and played with and have come to know online that are the best. That I’m blessed by my family is a given.

Don is making my favorite meal – crab cakes without the crab. Honestly, I can’t tell the difference! I’m sure he’s got a few things planned but, because money is rather tight, I asked for no gifts. He pressed me on that, so I said he could give me Louise Penny’s new book, which comes out a week from tomorrow. That will be the perfect gift.

Thanks, friends.

Stay safe.

Happy Monday.

 

 

Play

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A quick post today. We stayed up too late and then I had trouble sleeping, so I slept in and now the schedule for the day is a bit off. Boy, do I like and need my routines the older I get.

We have a little snow squall happening right now. It’s quite magical. And yet another murmuration of starlings this morning, right outside the kitchen window that is over the sink. I was standing there, having just got out of bed and there they were, hundreds of them, right outside the window. Then swoosh! They flew over to our neighbor’s property. Then another swoosh, and on to the property next to them.

Quite an eventful morning for someone who is barely awake!

Dolls today, because that’s what I did yesterday.

Harper helped me find the edge pieces for the new puzzle.

Wren and Lily in search of reading material.

This thought has been going through my head since yesterday:

You’re never too old to play. You’re never too old to play. You’re never too old to play.

“Play” has been the thread throughout my life; a life of working in the theater which is all about play, and a life of collecting; whimsical children’s egg cups, putz sheep, miniatures of all kinds, dollhouses, vintage dolls, and now Blythe dolls. The Blythes came into my life at a more advanced age, were a complete surprise, and have been a source of delight for the past year.

And why not?

I don’t want to ever lose my delight in play, in whimsy, and the world of my imagination.

Said by yours truly on this eve of a new decade.

Stay safe.

Happy Sunday.

 

Streetlights

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The finished Piccadilly Circus puzzle. The presence of several different red busses was a challenge, but I really loved working on this one. Great memories of my visits to London.

I’m currently awaiting the delivery of another puzzle via Amazon. In the meantime, I’m close to finishing my current read, I have some things to care of around the house, and the all-red and all-brown rooms in the Beacon Hill are crying out for some primer.

Cold and sunny and frosty out there. Oh, yes, I may start to empty the pots on the porch, as well.

This morning, I was thinking of the dark road we live on that has no streetlights and the fact that I want to buy some new Christmas lights for the porch. It brought back memories of streetlights. When I was growing up in Dearborn, there was one right on the edge of our property. I think this must be universal for anyone of a certain age that grew up in suburbia or the city. When we’d go outside after dinner to play, mom would always say “Be back by the time the streetlights are on!” That was the unwritten rule around my neighborhood. Every mom and dad said it. In addition to being a source of light, those streetlights were a reliable, yet silent, reminder that it was time to get home. Sometimes I would sweat it, knowing they’d been on for several minutes and I was in danger of getting balled out by my parents. None of us wore watches in the summer, no cellphones yet, no text messages from parents saying ‘Where are you?’ Just the streetlights. Anyone else grow up with streetlight reminders? I know Don did.

Such a comforting memory from my younger days.

Stay safe.

Happy Saturday.

Lambs Like to Party

Lambs Like to Party

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