Book Club makes me happy. Hubby teases me by calling it wine club, but really? It’s about women from various walks of life getting together and talking about ideas outside of the day-to-day.
This month we read “Serpent in Eden,” a true crime story about the murder of Sir Harry Oakes. The appeal? It is set in Nassau in the 40s and gives a great glimpse of the social / historical settin of things I see every day.
Book club makes me a little bit happier. So does the wine.
Friends, it’s a new personal record. Fourth time in a year to lock my keys in the car. This time, it’s still running. With a full tank.
Ironically, earlier today I was thinking about how long it has been since I did that, and it must be related to my lower stress and anxiety.
(Thankfully, we can easily get a duplicate here, unlike Ukraine. Unfortunately, one of my sons had made key-breaking skillz, so my duplicate doesn’t work and I have to call roadside assist. Again. The guy knows me well.)
Eat the Weeds is a cool site, which I’ve referenced frequently since moving here. Like in Ukraine, people in Bahamas forage quite a bit. The other day dropping off a friend at the airport, I saw a woman picking a couple of coco plums in the parking lot and popping them in her mouth on her walk to her car.
One of my most vivid memories from childhood is my mother pushing me on the swing and reciting Robert Louis Stevenson’s poem. We had a “little pink house on the corner” in Waveland, Mississippi. The house was on about an acre with tall pines. I remember watching my mother mow the lawn. I remember the smell of the pine needles and grass. I remember my mother telling me that it was good that the pine trees would bend and sway with the strong winds that scared me — the trees that bent in the wind wouldn’t break.
The playground was about a block from our house. I have memories of walking there alone, and sometimes stopping at the Tiger Mart across the street for a slushy. I remember hearing sounds carry through the warm, humid nights–the crackling speakers from the baseball diamond at that park in the distance and the cicadas nearby.
But the best times were when my mother came with me, and pushed me on the swing. Rhythmic pushing. Rhythmic recitation. Oh, how I love (push) to go up in a swing (push), up in the sky so blue (push). . .
BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside—
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown—
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!