Back from the Schnectady race and Timmy did great - best time in his age group and also the first grade rated male (whatever that means).  It earned him 89+% points or a "national class record" (whatever that means) and a 90% would have put him in "world class" (whatever that means).  Also, and this is the best part, he won a cash award, his first earnings for running.  His brother Pat showed up unexpectedly and yelled at him near the finish line - I think this probably got him going even faster.  He finished in 58 minutes, wanting a 57, but as the girl next to me said, "they are never satisfied with their results".  So he got the money, a large pottery vase, a smaller pottery piece with a top on it and his picture taken with the other 5 top winners.  All in all a good day.  More later.

There has been a beautiful male pheasant in our yard the last two days.  They used to be common, my father hunted them, as did most of the men in our neighborhood.  I don't remember eating them, Grandma Burky probably did the honor of cooking the bird.  But I do remember chasing them for the entertainment of my younger sisters and brother.  Daddy would drive to Matteawan State Hospital for the criminally insane.  It was a beautiful set of brick buildings, the grounds were gorgeous and well kept.  There were vegetable gardens that I imagine the inmates took care of.  Anyway, at that time there was a road open to the public that drove right up to it.  Because of its seclusion, there were pheasants all over the grounds.  When Daddy spotted one, he would tell me to get out of the car and chase it.  The bird would then fly up for the amusement of the kids in the car.  I remember being scared as I looked up at the barred windows, with faces looking down at me.  Today Route 84 runs close enough for you to see the prison, but barbed wires would keep anyone pheasant chaser out.

Growing up near such an institute was not frightening.  Only when the sirens blew, indicating an escape, did people panic.  My mother told us, "when they escape, they run two places.  Either to the river to follow the train tracks to be safe in the city, or (worse for us) run for the mountains where they can hide."  Bucky knew somebody who had their clothes stolen off the line.  The escapees had to quickly change from their prison clothes to  regular clothes so they wouldnt be so noticeable.  So the sound of the siren would send Bucky to the clothes line to bring in the not yet dried laundry.

In those days of no cell phones, ipads, etc, etc, sirens were the way we were notified of important events, like school closures which was a good siren and one we didn't hear very often.  A siren would blow more frequently for fires, a number of blasts - like 3 blasts, 2 blasts then 1.  We would run to the refrigerator where a listing was taped.  "321 - that's Washington Avenue" and we would run to the picture window to watch for the trucks and firemen.  Simple days and simple memories of 50 years or more ago.

Driving to Cape Cod three weeks ago, we started to see pickup trucks with gas grills in the back.  Wondering why, we figured it out when we got on 495 heading south.  Then almost every pickup truck had a gas grill in the back.  Drawing nearer to Foxboro we realized the popular Patriots were having a football game, and the traffic got heavier on both sides of the highway.   It made me wonder about these partying Patriots.  Did they cook right in the truck?  Did they all climb up around the grill to party?  Or did they drag it down in the parking lot.  And how safe could that be....gas grills among parked cars.

This week driving in Kingston along the Thruway, I saw truck after truck heading south toward  New York City.  Some were carrying those giant outdoor lights they use for working in the dark.  Several had large pipes on them, each pipe the full size of the truck bed.  Probably they would link these pipes together to empty the water from the tunnels and subways.  Poor New York, really got battered by Sandy, where we went Scot free...not even losing electricity which usually happens if a breeze blows.  The old apple tree, at least the rotten part, fell over.  A sad sight - that tree was the last of four apple trees that were in the yard when we came in 1967.  This one had a large hole in it that squirrels and chipmunks would run up and down and hide in when a hawk appeared.  Each one of my grandchildren at one time or another, ran a truck or a ball, down the hole and out the bottom, a game they never seem to tire of.  They were too short to reach the hole and had to get a chair to climb on to put the toy in the runway.  No more.

The only remembrance of Sandy still apparent is no sound of train whistles.  We are a good mile from the railroad tracks, but the trains are easily heard, especially at night.  I love to hear that whistle, and I wonder if it is a freight train with a small staff, or are there people traveling, probably sleeping at this time.  It will be good to hear that whistle again.

What a difference a week makes.  Driving home from Wellfleet, I could see the results of a hard frost, dead fields, sunflowers drooping and black.  Home to reality of winter setting in.  Even the juncos are back, and I turned on the heat for the first time.

Wellfleet was wonderful, in spite of a lot of rainy days.  It is the most beautiful spot in the world, I am convinced of that.  Watching the tide go in and out from our front window, is a sight you never get tired of.  We had birds, a new one, red breasted nuthatch.  The Cape Cod paper said there are flocks of them in the area, apparently due to a lack of pine cone seed up north.  A fox came to the deck to eat the seeds as well, a real beauty, with a fluffy tail ending all in white.  We saw seals at the ocean and even in the bay side at Duck Harbor.  And of course, the Cape Cod food, the best scallops, clams and oysters you can ever eat.

The festival was very crowded, probably even more so than last year.  People watching is my favorite sport there, after drinking the dark beer and eating oysters, and listening to the bands.  There are not many kids there - parents realize the crowds make it difficult to keep them near.  The people with kids park them at a bench and it is fun to watch them amuse themselves, some by dancing on top of the tables (I expected one little girl dancer to fall on her head any moment, but she didn't) or others acting up by tormenting each other.
Two boys across the table from me starting throwing popcorn at me until I gave them my church face.  The best time was seeing my old friend Caleb and giving him a hug.  "Are you my girlfriend?"  he asked and I said I sure was.  He is a special reminder in my life, and seeing him was a gift (maybe from Ria).

So we're back, another yearly ritual successfully completed.

Well a whole month to get caught up on, in a nutshell, so to speak.  Timmy and I went to Bard to hear Ralph Nader speak in a conference that was titled "Do we need a President?"  He was excellent, spoke for over and hour standing up, without notes.  (The standing up part is astonishing to me with my bad knees.)  He spoke on our compliance, our reluctance to get invoved, and he urged more vigilance, more involvement to know what your district's representatives are doing in Congress.  When he said there are more birdwatchers than Congress watchers, I laughed out loud.  But he is right.

Then our guests - I guess I could nutshell it in "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" and enough said.  We did have one guest that was very nice, very complimentary and gave me a geneous tip - the first of the year.  So I guess that equals out. 

We did a street painting last weekend, Laura did Hansel and Gretel, Sabra's family did a Halloween cat scene, with their own personal cats, Regina did the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, and I did a witch on a broom.  Lots of fun, and it is great to see all the people on the street, painting away.  Lots of memories of Maria and Margaret helping me with the street paintings, doing demos all over the place.  I put their names in the corner of the witch.

Our street had a bit of excitement when we were told some of the residents no longer wanted street lights on Clay Hill Road.  Sabra and I reacted the same way...what are they thinking?  The street lights give us safety and security, the ability to walk downstairs at night - not in complete darkness.  On a winter's night you can peek at the light to see if the snow has stopped.  Anyway, one light was dismantled (no one knows who did it) and Central Hudson put up another one almost at once.  I guess that's the end of the street light controvery.

I'll end with Ria's grave, the flowers are beautiful and I had to cut the mint, it was taller than the stone, but thick and lush, and a wonderful smell.  The pilot's grave has a new addition - a real mail box, so his children can write to him...Isn't that wonderful?  I am thinking about writing to him myself.

Well, Sunday we are off to Oysterfest, our 12th year attending.  I am excited.  There you have it, September 2012 in a nutshell.

August is winding down.  I spent my 70th birthday at the Rhinebeck fair.  First thing we do is check the Arts and Crafts building, looking to see if I have won any awards for the apron and pillowcase I have entered.  No luck this year, but my postcards and the little drug store advertisement from the old Tivoli drug store win second and first prize.  Then on to the animals, less rabbits and fowl this year, but it was the first day.  We met up with Regina, and the boys went on some rides while I sat and people watched.  Sometimes this can be upsetting, parents being cruel, kids being nasty, but that day peope were treating each other with kindness...made me feel good.  I also noticed the number of people with tattoos, almost as many with they as without.  And big tattoos, covering whole arms, backs and legs.  I wonder what this means about our society. 

The weekend before I had gone with Paul and his boys to the cabin and spent Saturday at the Pirate Festival in Alexandria Bay.  While sitting on a rock, overlooking the St. Lawrence Seaway waiting for the pirates to arrive, I noticed too how kind people were to each other.  One big guy, dressed all in pirate garb, was putting stamped tattoos on any kid that wanted it.  Of course, they lined up.  This big gruff pirate, was so sweet and gentle, especially to the two year olds, that it made me smile.  The kids were not the least bit afraid of him, in fact their looks were in awe.  Quite a nice remembrance of that day and this past month.  I asked the gentle giant of a pirate if I could have a tattoo, and indicated my calf.  He quickly put a pirate face there.  It washed off in a day or two, but at least I had a tattoo for a while.

Well, I finally did it - I bought a new car.  It's a bright red Honda Fit and it is gorgeous.  I kept my old black Sentra, and I drive both of them.  Right now the red car is in the garage because the birds that I so faithfully feed are pooping on it.  Anyway, the two cars made me think of an old friend.

When I worked at Clermont, there was a night watchman Charlie that wore a toupee.  He had a great sense of humor and would make me laugh when he came into work at 4:00.  I left at 5:00, and this was usually a very slow time, so we hung out together in the office.  Charlie had me laughing one day when he said he sometimes takes off his toupee and looks out the third floor window.  The visitors below see the "old, worn out watchman".  Then he says, he puts it back on and they see the "young, handsome, strong watchman."
That's how I feel in these two cars.  The black car, I am hunched over the wheel, and old lady of almost 70 driving slow, watching out for any road dangers.  Then, in the red car, I am a young girl, driving a fancy car, not a care in the world. 

So my new car has transformed me.  If only I could get my knees into this picture.