Your Assignments for December . . .

 

Living in the Stream

 How many shows have you streamed since March? Our list is long and varied, and I'm thinking of catching up on some movies, before we begin another series. Okay, then ...

1. The Sapphires
2. Water Diviner
3. 20th Century Women
4. Roma
5. The Irishman
6. Lost Girls
7. Schitt's Creek
8. American Factory
9. Amy
10. Little Women
11. The Good Place
12. Jackson Brodie
13. Fantastic Fungi
14. Amazing Mrs. Maisel
15. Bel Canto
16. Shaun the Sheep
17. The English Game
18. Baptiste
19. Bosch
20. Never Have I Ever
21. Late Night
22. London River
23. World On Fire
24. The Untold Story
25. Collateral
26. Dead to Me
27. Dark River
28. Book Shop
29. Mr. Roosevelt
30. The Door
31. Lady Bird
32. The Queen
33. Repair Shop
34. Flea Bag
35. Very British Scandal
36. The Goldfinch
37. Love Wedding Repeat
38. Knives Out
39. Da 5 Bloods
40. Marcella
41. Moone Boy
42. Children Act
43. A Merry War
44. The Politician
45. Beecham House
46. Eurovision
47. Hamilton
48. Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society
49. Fathers and Daughters
50. River
51. Britt Marie
52. Pale Horse--Jim Gaffigan
53. Kettering Incident (unfinished)
54. Radioactivity
55. Episodes
56. Endeavor
57. Bernadette Where'd You Go
58. Little Fires Everywhere
59. Normal People
60. Palm Springs
61. Shetland
62. The Assistant
63. 100 Foot Journey
64. Handmaid's Tale
65. Bill and Ted
66. Olive Kitteridge
67. Big Little Lies
68. Mildred Pierce
69. Sharp Objects
70. Damn Yankees
71. The Point
72. Great British Baking Show
73. Coupling
74. Gentleman Jack
75. The Russians Are Coming
76. Queen's Gambit
77. Clemency
78. The Crown
79. 12 Years a Slave
80. Motherless Brooklyn
81. Lala Land
82. Emma (2020)
83. Enola Holmes
84. Harriet
85. His Dark Materials
86. Rebecca (NF)
87. The Happiest Season
88. The Undoing
89. Human Nature
90. Becoming Astrid
91. Never Rarely Sometimes Never
92. Pen15
93. The Lie 👎
94. The Prom
95. Morning Glory
96. The Old Guard
97. Sylvie's Love
98. Dash & Lily
99. Black Book
100. Family Tree
101. 6 Feet Under
102. Herself

There's an app, Just Watch, that does a nice job of showing you where a particular show or movie can be streamed. This list doesn't include all of the PBS programs we watch: Masterpiece Theater, Mystery, Last Tango in Halifax, Finding Our Roots Frontline. 

This year, we'll be giving thanks for the ability to stream--both shows and music. Love, K

Breakfast Strata

 Way back, in the last half of the eighties, our wee crew was living in Roseburg. That welcoming community, that made us feel right at home, also made sure we were involved. And the main involvement for both N and I, was at Melrose Elementary. Before we knew it, we were involved in raising funds for a bell tower and I was being urged to take a position in the PTO.

One of the big yearly events, was a volunteer breakfast, that the PTO board put on for all of the school volunteers. And that's when I learned about breakfast strata. Susan Yoder, PTO president and encourager of others, had invited me to her house (the day before the breakfast) to help put together the stratas. I was impressed with her ability to estimate how much to purchase and how to divvy up the ingredients on the fly, for such a large group.

The tasty and easily changeable casserole, was something I decided to add to our family recipe file. I'm not sure how it was relegated to Christmas morning breakfast and eventually included Thanksgiving, but it made the enjoyment slightly special. (Maybe that was my plan.)

Now, I prefer making skillet strata--they're smaller and are put together and baked at the same time, rather than sitting in the refrigerator overnight. Plus, making them more often than twice a year, has placed that recipe in my memory--the recipe now is rarely needed ... unless I'm thinking of making a change up of ingredients and want to see what others have done. 

There are oodles of recipes out there. Go find one that matches your belly and your larder. Lykkelig å spise! 

Love, K

Myrn

 It wasn't until I began to compose this in my head, that it occurred to me, this name I've admired for so many years, was not a one-of-a-kind handle crafted by parents, but an "a" away from Myrna. {K takes a moment to ponder this again} 

Not only did I like to say her name, that usually brought a smile, but I enjoyed being in her company. Myrn, made this wee runt, feel special--much like my Auntie M's stepdaughter, Linda (yet another epiphany). 

Myrn, came along at a certain time of my life. I had entered the age of change, and there she was, dispensing essential advice and knowledge. Reading, together with me, one of those dreaded pamphlets, that my adults pushed across the table in my direction. My two older sisters, had each other, but not this runt--I was on my own (or so I felt). 

All to say--thank you, Myrn. You were there when this runt needed you. And you, too, Linda. You also aided this runt. Reach out and help, whenever you see a need, but also check to see if it's what's needed. "Softly, softley, catchee monkey ..."

New Yorker Radio Hour

 Such a relief, that I wasn't running the vacuum when this interview was on the radio. There was something about the tone, that made it a joy to listen to: relaxed, honest, engaged with each other. But there was also a question that's kept this old brain busy: "Do you remember when you first met another funny kid?" I remember observing my first funny kid, when I was in middle school. It was when I realized how cruel jokes could be. But I also remember my first funny work bud and how one of us could say something that seemed innocent during a meeting, make eye contact with each other and then try to keep from bursting out loud. 

Ah, Linda, such good memories. Love, K

An Old Thanksgiving Memory

 Who knows what the year was (possibly 1994), whenever my folks decided to head to Arizona earlier than usual or stopped returning for Thanksgiving or whatever it might have been. Difficult to remember at this late date. What I do remember, is that (most) of the family had gathered at my eldest sibling's home. Such a great house!

That Franklin stove, was probably glowing red, in the corner by my brother-in-law's favorite chair and the family room/ kitchen, was probably alive with activity. So many wee folk and so many boisterous adults! Yes, that volume was loud--especially with a movie (Speed) playing on the satellite TV system.

I don't remember if we had already enjoyed dinner or not, but I do remember a phone call with my folks in Arizona on the speaker phone. It was my first experience with a telephone call on speaker phone and (to be honest) I hoped it was my last. 

So many voices, with something to add and no way for the recipients to know who was talking or (most likely) what was being said. And yet, I think the overall message (hopefully) was that of love and wishing they were with us. 

Love, K

Who Ate My Sandwich?!

 The following was posted on this blog six plus years ago. I was reminded of the story this morning, after people began talking about ravens damaging windshield wipers at a trail head:

The parent club at the local elementary school our girls attended, sold bags of popcorn to the students once a week. One day, as I was leaving the school after volunteering, I noticed every tree in and around the playground was filled with crows. The large numbers were so remarkable to me that instead of the hairs on the back of my neck standing up in horror, I began to wonder what event they were anticipating. Crows don't gather without purpose. I don't know if I put it together that day or later after witnessing the gathering another week, but it suddenly became clear they were all waiting for lunch recess when the children would emerge with their bags of popcorn and inevitably leave many many morsels behind.

Several years later, I was sitting in my car waiting for a walking partner near a Willamette University practice field. There was a team of young soccer players attending a summer camp out on the field. The wood bleachers were decorated with the player's backpacks and duffle bags. While I sat watching, one young man ran over to his bag and removed his water bottle for a quick drink. Minutes later, a crow landed on the bleachers and casually strolled and hopped from bench to bench, with one eye on the team members. The crow zeroed in on the thirsty boy's bag, hopped on top, grasped the zipper in its beak and began to unzip the bag. He resumed his casual hopping from one bench to another while watching the boys and then returned to the bag. The crow pulled it open, eyed the contents and lifted out a sandwich wrapped in foil. He carefully folded back the foil, removed half and flew away. When the boys returned to their bags for a break, the owner of the violated bag appeared incredulous that someone would take his food. An unsolved mystery that was probably the cause for suspicion amongst the team members. All because of a crafty crow.

Last year, a friend shared a story of a crow who visited her backyard squirrel feeder. The crow visited every day for a week (at the same time), trying to figure out how it might access the peanuts inside the plastic tube. The following week, the crow showed up with a second crow. My friend said the original visitor, showed the  second one how he'd been attempting to access the nuts. Then the second crow hopped up onto the feeder tube and showed how to grasp the tube while upside down. It worked! It was as if the stymied crow had called in a consultant. Amazing! 

Resonating Quote

 Last night, as I was reading myself to sleep, a quote in the current novel resonated. Was the narrator pointing out something deep within our human nature? Sadly, it feels that way to me. And also something to watch out for, when we deal with others. 

"I have said before: It interests me how we find ways to feel superior to another person, another group of people. It happens everywhere, and all the time. Whatever we call it, I think it's the lowest part of who we are, this need to find someone else to put down."

-- "My Name is Lucy Barton", Elizabeth Strout

Boy Howdy

 Woo doggie! What a ride the past few days have been! And ... to be alive during yet another historic election! I know, I know, it's not completely over. It's been eons since we last had a creature like Drumpf in the White House and our memories are short--though our written history is (somewhat) long. Thankfully, we survived the last one. Let's make it a double, shall we?

Cheers!

Love, K

Shades of Backyard Autumn

 From our remaining cherry and Venus the dogwood ...

Walkies

 

A Time for Reading

 Ever since March, I've become slightly more in tune with the width and breadth of my stack of books to read--noticing when the stack seemed to be disappearing at a faster speed and restocking. During the most recent decision on which novel to read next, I failed to go through all of the titles, settling on the first one that appealed. After three days of reading, I realized that I had not read the first of what I find is a two book series. 

In "normal times", I would continue on with my mistake, hoping I wouldn't miss the earlier character development. But this time around? Why the heck not? It's not like I have a completion date or an assignment due. AND entertainment is essential this year (almost typed "these days", ha!). Though, knowing myself, saying I'll do this is still a step away from doing it. <shrugs> Maybe now that I've shared, it'll be the shove I need.

Off topic: And speaking of entertainment: we found, "The Russians Are Coming", on Prime. I'd forgotten what a sweet gem that is and how young Carl Reiner was, as well as Eva St Marie. 

Love, K

Garrison Keillor's The Old Scout

© 2009 by Garrison Keillor. 

The Old Scout A Day to Remember January 20, 2009 One simply wanted to be present. Freezing cold or not, a crowd of 2 million, whatever — solemn warnings about tight security, long lines, traffic jams, cell phones not working. In the end, one wanted to be there on the Mall before the Capitol on Tuesday at noon amid the jubilant throng and see the man take the oath of office — our first genuine Author-President. So I hitchhiked a ride in the middle of the night on a jet heading to Baltimore and got to the train station at 5 a.m. and already the platform was packed. A lot of black people in parkas and scarves and mittens. It was like "The Apollo Goes to the Arctic." There were Obama stocking caps, ski caps, skullcaps, and pins with the first family on them, and everyone was beaming, and nobody complained about how cold it was or having to wait in line. People were being marshaled into waiting areas for each train to D.C., each of us with a Commemorative Train Ticket with a picture of Himself on it — and the marshals, who wore yellow vests, were insistent on us Staying In Our Place, but I just boarded the first train that came through and nobody ever checked my ticket. Big rules, no enforcement. I rode with a group of black women who had left Portsmouth, Va., at 1 a.m. to be sure to be there on time. They were heavily bundled and so excited they could hardly speak. And then when the conductor called out "Union Station, Washington," one of them looked at the others and she burst into tears. And they all cried. I would have, too, if they'd looked at me. Long lines at Union Station for coffee and restrooms, but everyone was in such a fine mood that waiting was painless, and the same was true of the line to go through security and be scanned and get onto the Capitol grounds. The line was six blocks long, the longest line I have ever stood in, but there is nothing so pleasant as being in a crowd of happy people when you are happy about the same thing they're happy about. Up above, cops with automatic rifles on parapets and walkways, and down below the mob milled along Louisiana Avenue and the line inched forward and the good will radiated up from the crowd just like in Grant Park on Election Night. It was more than Democrats feeling their oats or African-Americans celebrating the unimaginable, more than revulsion at the gang of bullheads who held power for too long. It was a huge gasp of pleasure at a new America emerging, a country we all tried to believe in, a nation that is curious and venturesome, more openhearted and public-spirited. All kinds of people, the slim and sleek, the XXXLs, the heavily insulated, the carefree, and we moved through ranks of souvenir sellers — whatever else he may accomplish, Obama has been a boon to the pin and T-shirt trade — and in our slow trek toward the Capitol, one felt the enormity of the day for the black people around us. I wouldn't try to express, I simply was grateful to be among it. Old ladies with sore feet hauled themselves along. The crowd down below the podium had their opinions. There was a profound silence when Mrs. Bush was announced and walked out. People watched the big screen and when Mrs. Obama appeared, there was a roar, and when the Current Occupant and Mr. Cheney came out of the Capitol, a low and heartfelt rumble of booing. Dignified booing. Old black ladies around me tried to shush them — "Don't do that!" they hissed — but it's a democracy, and how will those men know how we feel if we don't tell them? The band tootled on and there were shouts of "O-ba-ma" and also "Yes we can" (and also "Down in front") and then he came out and the place went up. That was the first big moment. The second was when he took the oath and said, "so help me, God" and the cannons boomed and you got a big lump in your throat. And the third was afterward. The invocation was extensive and segued into the Lord's Prayer, and the music was OK if you like Aaron Copland, and the inaugural speech was good enough, calling on us all to great deeds and sacrifice, details to be announced later. You could hear each oratorical phrase repeated over and over in the series of loudspeakers down the Mall and bouncing off stone facades, a sort of cubist effect. The inaugural poet followed, a sort of filler, with a long windup, a few good phrases in the middle ("someone is trying to make music somewhere ... a teacher says, 'Take out your pencils. Begin.'"), and then it trailed off into some misty thoughts about love. And then a big horn blast of a benediction. But the great moment came later, as the mob flowed slowly across the grounds. I heard loud cheers behind me and there on the giant screen was the Former Occupant and Mrs. Bush saying goodbye to the Obamas in the parking lot behind the Capitol, the Marine helicopter behind them. The crowd stopped and stared, a little stunned at the reality of it. They saw it on a screen in front of the Capitol and it was actually happening on the other side. The Bushes went up the stairs, turned, waved and disappeared into the cabin, and people started to cheer in earnest. When the blades started turning, the cheering got louder, and when the chopper lifted up above the Capitol and we saw it in the sky heading for the airport, a million jubilant people waved and hollered for all they were worth. It was the most genuine, spontaneous, universal moment of the day. It was like watching the ice go out on the river. © 2009 by Garrison Keillor. All rights reserved. Distributed by Tribune Media Services, INC.