I’ve mentioned before on the blog that we are interested in getting a little trailer like the T@B. It looks adorable and the price is right. 

On Saturday we’ll go to an RV show in Suffern, NY where we know they will be exhibiting them so we can see what one really looks like. We are a bit concerned about the inside space and whether or not Rick will be able to stand upright. I am hoping it’s not a case of The Long, Long Trailer, a movie with Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz where they go shopping for a trailer they see advertised in the paper. It looks roomy and large until they go to the RV show and see that it’s just a tiny little thing they can’t even stand up in. They instead buy a huge trailer that would be better off parked permanently in a trailer park. Not the end result I want from our RV show!

We are also considering the Alto Safari Condo. It’s a bit bigger and taller  than the T@B, but also pricier. The main drawback is that they are only available in Canada so we would have to drive to Quebec to even see one. Not a huge deal though considering where we live now. But, if it ever needs service it would have to towed back to the dealer —in Canada — and we won’t always live this close. It looks wonderful though. Take a look.  Plenty of room for Rick to stand up and just a little more living space. 

We’ll see what we think of the T@B this weekend.

The works being my sister’s cowl and reading Kristin Lavransdatter. I am making progress on both and will most certainly finish my sister’s cowl before I complete the 1,124 pages of Kristen.

I was going great guns on my sister’s cowl only to realize, after counting my stitches, that I had made a huge gaffe and needed to take out four rows. So, that set me back a bit. My goal is to finish by this weekend so I can wash it and block it and send it out to her before North Carolina’s weather turns warmer. Too bad she doesn’t have it right now since they are getting snow and ice!

The cowl and the book are connected in a way because my sister recommended that I read the book. It’s about a woman in fourteenth-century Norway and is really a trilogy written in the early 1920’s: The Wreath, The Wife and The Cross, rolled into one huge issue. It takes her from girlhood and throughout her life. It’s really good! I am not reading it exclusively as I have too many library books out right now and those have a limited amount of time; Kristen does not since it belongs to me. I am making progress one or two chapters at a time. (I am still on The Wreath.)

Tomorrow should be a good day to catch up on both of my “works” while sitting in front of a cozy fire watching the snow fall. All 10 to 16 inches of it!

Does this look like the feet, body and beak of a bird to you?

Oh, Lord. They are using the “B” word for the storm that is bearing down on us, ready to unleash 10-16 inches of snow on Thursday. “B” as in Blizzard, but frankly I would use another “B” word to describe this winter. 

Really, Phil? Don’t you think you are taking your predication a little too far? 

I just got back from trying to take the dogs for a walk. A pretty unsuccessful walk. Last night we got about an inch of new snow. Just enough to coat everything really well, but not enough to shovel or plow. Scrape, maybe. Neither did our road get plowed since they have a “two-inch” rule where it has to snow two inches before they bring the plows out. 

The dogs have been driving me crazy and really missing their daily walks, so today I finally relented. They have to walk on the road because getting over on the side with all that frozen snow is something even they don’t want to do. 

We barely got out of the driveway before Hailey started hopping along and holding her paws up. I turned around and promptly put her back inside the house while Bella and I went by ourselves.

Our road, not being a very wide road to begin with, is slowing shrinking in on itself the more snow we get. Here is what the end of our cul-de-sac looks like.

I am not getting much exercise lately. I can’t walk at Long Pond Ironworks anymore unless I want to trudge through that nasty snow. I guess I could go over to Skylands where I could walk on pavement, but the temperature is still below freezing with a biting wind. Not conducive to walking outside at all. These days I get the most exercise walking around the grocery store aisles.

Talk is now floating around that there is a potential for a major winter storm on Wednesday night through Thursday. They must be joking. Please, stop!

Gutter Photos: Last Thursday’s ice formation and today’s formation.

What a title for a post, eh? Well I couldn’t very well call it Two Funerals and a Wedding, now could I? I am not trying to be flip here. Not at all. The fact is, I feel very sad. After never having attended a funeral in my entire life I have now gone to two in two days. Both funerals were held in two different Catholic churches in Wayne. Our friends Andy and Linda have both lost their mothers in the space of one week. It’s almost too much for one family to bear and I cannot imagine their sorrow and grief. Well, I can actually, just a little bit and that’s the problem. 

When you lose a parent it’s like being smacked in the back of the head with your own mortality. Those of you who have not experienced it yet can’t fully comprehend what I am talking about. There is just the slightest scabbing over from the wound of the loss of my mom. If I start picking at it, the wound opens back up.

I did not know either one of the matriarchs of their families, yet I still found tears welling up in my eyes and slipping down my cheeks when I saw their grief, which was so palpable. I have to admit, I cry watching Hallmark movies and commercials, and now at funerals of people I don’t know too. Seeing the families grieve, listening to the eulogies of these two well-loved women brought my mom’s death back to me with a punch in the gut. I have to admit, it hurt. All those feelings and memories came rushing back. My mom did not want a formal funeral as she had eschewed the whole Catholic church thing which was so much a part of my childhood, but not my adulthood. But after attending back to back funerals I can certainly see the advantage to having one. It gives closure and a chance to reflect on a life you were part of for so long. A celebration and an ending.

Both funerals were very different, yet the same. I actually enjoyed both priests when they spoke to the immediate family. They had obviously taken the time to research each woman before they spoke. When they were speaking from the heart (and not for God) I got it.

I’m having a rather emotional day so forgive me if I am not making sense. 

I was raised Catholic and we went to church every Sunday as a child. Being in a Catholic church again and attending a mass of sorts after not having set foot in one (not counting visiting cathedrals in Europe) for 35 years was also a bit strange and off-putting. So many feelings washed over me.

My mom’s death. 

Being sent back to my childhood again with two distinct memories:

The heavy scent of incense filling the church with its musky odor on Christmas midnight masses. 

The cruel nun who poked me so hard in the back I thought I’d be bruised when I did not kneel up straight. Looking down at those kneelers the past two days, kneeling was the last thing I wanted to do!

I went through the whole Holy Communion and Confirmation thing. Here I am the day of my Communion.

Photo back reads (in my mom’s handwriting) :

Lynne Ann, First Holy Communion (as if I was going to have a second?),

May 18th, 1963

And looking even more pious on my Confirmation!

Photo back reads: May 28, 1966, Confirmation

Wow, same hair-do! Maybe my bangs are a little longer. Nice curls, Lynne. Really, now looking back I’m not sure what the whole to-do was about. Sad, really.  I was really not as pious as I look in these photos. My mom saved my report card from catechism class and it resides in my baby book (thankfully my sister and I were both spared parochial school due to my father’s own school experience) and I thought my conduct grade would be worse than a “B” since I distinctly remember the nun smacking my hand with a ruler (yes, they still did that) and once standing in the corner because I was chewing gum and the nun made me put the gum on my nose too. Maybe this was why when I left my parent’s house and got married I turned away from the church and never went back.

My sister has gone back “into the fold” later in life and I am glad that the rituals give her comfort. After being back in the church for two days in a row I can honestly say I have no desire to go back.

I miss my mom so much. Andy and Linda, if you read this my heart goes out to you both.

Photo: Autumn’s last gasp with burning bushes in the background, Long Pond Ironworks.