Since Jer died, I have such an urge to do my thread art - embroidery.  One of the last things we talked about was a hat I had worked on, for Timmy many years ago.  I had found a hat in the thrift shop that had the word "Evian", the mineral water on the brim.  I put a D in the front and a T in the back and Timmy wore the "deviant" hat for quite a while.  Jer remembered it and asked if we still had it.  I said probably, because Timmy never throws anything out, and he said "I would like one like that". 

I finished a baby shirt for the beer man last week and this week have been working on a pillowcase that has six scenes of cats on it.  No small project at this time.  I have a special hoop I use and that too reminds me of Jer.  Three years ago in cape cod that same favorite hoop broke into two pieces.  One of the kids had broken a dining room chair and Tony had called Jer and told him to bring glue when he came in a few days.  So when the hoop broke, Jer reglued it and then carefully and tightly wrapped
embroidery thread around the edges.  Three years and many projects later it is still holding.

At the reception following his Mass last week, his friend Peter spoke with me and pointed out his little girl who I had made a shirt and bib for.  One of Rachael's friends' baby also was there, and I had made a shirt for her as well.  I don't know if all these moments have made me want to do the sewing, or if it is my way of handling the day by days.  I remember when I was five and had my tonsils out, Bucky sat next to my bed, working on a hanky that she was decorating the edges with embroidery stitches.  I think it helps, the stitch in, the stitch out, the routine, soothing, and giving one a lot of quiet time to think.  36 years of his life gives me a lot to think about.  And a lot to smile about.  God Bless and rest in peace Jer. Love, Linny

When I was growing up, my father used a word for different people coming to the house or just as a common referral name.  Ignatz.  A car would drive up and Daddy would say "Ignatz is here for you." Or my brother's friend would knock on the door and Daddy would call Bob "Ignatz is here,"  I never thought anything of it until today.  I was reading an article about a cartoon that ran from 1913 to 1944 about a cat and a mouse.  The cat was Krazy Kat, of indeterminate gender, sometimes he, sometimes she.  And this cat was in love with a mouse and - to my surprise the mouse's name was Ignatz. 

Bingo! I realized that my father probably read that cartoon all his life, and used that word in place of a name.  I looked up that cartoon and found that the Kat loved the mouse, a grumpy soul, that would throw bricks at the Kat.  And there was an Officer, a dog that liked Krazy and would try to stop the brick throwing.  And in one scene, when Ignatz is sleeping, Krazy Kat kisses him and you see above Ignatz's head, in his dreams, hearts.  So there you are.  Yesterday was the Women's March and somehow this tied into my brain with my new found cartoon.  Where like angels, the cat is sexless, and it really doesn't matter.  That's what we need right now....it just shouldn't matter.  Ignatz, put down your brick -peace.

The last day of the year.  I like to list some of the best moments of 2016.  Anne Morrow Lindberg wrote that we can't expect best whole days, only that there are best moments, moments that give us joy and pleasure.  So here are my best moments of the year:

(1)  Five minutes of fame being in the Poughkeepsie Journal for having a weasel live with us in the house.  I still think it was a least weasel, but the authority said they are rare in New York State.  But I saw her and her picture and I am certain it was a least weasel.
(2) Shane's graduation from Simon's Rock - when his Aunt Rachael asked "Where's Sammy?" her dog she inherited from her mother, my best friend.  Sammy was found right where she left her, by the library.  As Uncle Toby had said, "This could be bad, really bad" and it turned out fine.
(3) Solomon playing the trumpet at his grandfather's memorial.  Over the rainbow, very suiting, Joel loved the Wizard of Oz even though the flying monkeys scared him as a kid.
(4) Wellfleet - again.  Four generations - the youngest being Cove who took to the water just like his name.  I enjoyed the boys' humor, especially their discussions on Star War on the beach.  Good to see the Kelly's all together enjoying the walk to the Gut.
(5) David Sedaris at Bard College.  A birthday gift from Paul and Helene, Sabra and I waited in line before the show and he signed my copy of Maria's obituary, me explaining how much she loved his writing.  He signed his name, with the word "sadly".
(6) Oysterfest - again Wellfleet, meeting Caleb P in PJ's restaurant.  He told Timmy that Timmy was an LM.  I thought he meant my name, but then he explained  - LM lucky man.  He sure is.
(7) Church.  This is a strange one, but I am getting used to my new church.  I especially like it when our priest put a statue of Saint Lazarus on the front altar.  He looked like a Halloween fright, rags falling off, bloody sores that the dogs were licking.  I tried to find one on the internet that looked as good (or as bad) , but none came close to that.
(8) And finally, Maria's Christmas tree.  We usually make a blanket, cover chicken wire with branches and decorate that to lay flat on her grave,  This year Laura suggested putting up a whole, regular size real tree.  So the girls bought one at Williams, we decorated it at Sabra's house and drove it fully decorated and in a stand to the grave.  When it was situated there, you had to smile.  A full size real Christmas tree, putting all the other wreath covered gravestones to shame. 
(9) The really best moment when Timmy put the sick skunk in my car to drive to another location and the car came back, skunkless and stinkless .  You can't ask for more than that.  Happy New Year.

For Christmas I got two items that were exactly the same thing, from Sabra and Laura.  They were a pair of socks that have different faces on them with the word asshole near by - men, women even a cat and a dog, all with the word asshole written by then, except for the cat which said not an asshole.

This was an appropriate gift because one of my favorite words is asshole.  You can use it with so many different adjectives....dumb asshole, stupid asshole, perfect asshole, wise asshole.  You don't even need an adjective, the word itself is so good.  In Planes Trains and Airplanes I laughed out loud when John Candy said "You inconsiderate asshole".  I'm still waiting to use that one.

Bucky liked the word asshole.  I remember fondly being in Beacon and workers were putting a roof on their house. My brother was complaining about them - "they take too many breaks, they disappear for hours at lunch, etc, etc".  My mother just looked at him and said disgustedly, "You're the asshole that hired them."  Bucky knew when to use the word.  If she were alive, I would give one of my pair of socks to her.  Merry Christmas to all.   

I have in my pocket two horse chestnuts from Provincetown.  We were walking on Commercial Street when I noticed piles of horse chestnuts just under a fence.  I asked Timmy to get me some and he did.  We used to have horse chestnut trees all over the place.  The last one I knew of in Tivoli was blighted and torn down.  I remember Bucky always picking up horse chestnuts and keeping them in her pocket.  Then I read Anne Morrow Lindberg and she did the same thing.  On her walks,she would stoop and pick up a chestnut and drop it in her pocket.

These chestnuts are poisonous, not like the ones for sale near the holidays.  They look alike, except the edible ones have a point.  Horse chestnuts do not.  The ones from Cape Cod are small, not big and healthy like the ones that I remembered.  They are suppose to be good for circulation and also an aid to arthritis as they are anti inflammatory.  I just like reaching into my pocket and feeling them, warm to the touch and smooth.  Like a worry stone and also a reminder of last week and 60 some years ago.  And just maybe they will help my knees.

Home from Wellfleet since last Sunday.  I love Wellfleet, especially the cabins in the Sea Shells.  Each day brings a completely different view, the changing tides, the changing sky and clouds, the sunsets and the sunrises.  I told Timmy it's like being in an art museum.  You are in one room and you think" this is beautiful".  Then you go into the next, and you say "Wow, this is really something".
And when you are heading toward Provincetown on Route 6, you go over a hill and there are the dunes to one side, the rows of identical cottages on the other side - it's like another world entirely.

We did our usual, one day a trip to Orleans for the Bird Store ( Timmy won a pencil for his riddle:  What month has 28 days in it?  There were all old people waiting in line, and one old man couldn't help himself and blurted out THEY ALL DO.  An old lady said she heard that joke back in second grade and we all had a good laugh.  Every year if you give them a joke, they give you a free pencil.  No different this year).  Then on to the Christmas Shop, Fish Market and back on the beach for the afternoon.

The next day is Provincetown, my favorite card store, a new age type store and the red Lobster for my usual lunch, crab filled avocado.  On the way back, we stop at the graveyard and plant the bulbs on Mr. Brown and give him a pumpkin, that you can see from the road.  A stop at the Preservation Hall showed us that Maria's name was no longer on the top of the bench, just on the arm.  Timmy picked the bench right up to see if it had fallen off, but no piece of slate with her words and name "my heart belongs in Wellfleet". We spoke to someone who took down the information and promised it would be fixed.

We did go to the realty that had rented us a house this summer.  The owner had found Jer's keys, lost in July and found in October.  A miracle if you ask me.  And Uncle Phil's wedding ring was still attached.  Honest people still exist in this world.

But the big surprise was the Department of Health closed the Wellfleet bay for all shellfish. So the Oysterfest was an oysterfreefest. Still a big crowd, even bigger than last year.  The music was good and the cam chowder and lobster roll hit the spot.  Coming home, we stopped at Catherine's in Great Barrington for Halloween candy.  Same as ever.  Just like seeing the geese flying south, this past week is a symbol of the summer gone and winter ahead.

The hot August nights are full of the sound of crickets.  I found one today on the porch, pretty big, but I have seen bigger.  We used to go to Wellfleet in August. I would get a small cottage "The Owl's Nest" and Maria would get an identical one right next to me.  They were really nice, on a quiet road, overlooking Black Creek.  Getting to town was easy.  A quick walk across Cannon Hill (really fun at low tide when the fiddler crabs were running around) and the walk across Uncle Tim's Bridge got you there is minutes.

But one thing, it was August and the crickets were amazing.  Rachael came over one morning, I think she was about ten.  She complained that a cricket had kept her up all night with his racket and now was behind the refrigerator, still at it.  I teased her and said, "well he is now your pet, you have to give him a name."  She looked at me disgusted and said, "I already did.  His name is ass hole".

So that it what I remember these nights when the sound of hundreds of crickets are at it.  I smile and think of a famous cricket that spent time with us on our vacation in Wellfleet.