Blah,blah,blogs

Until recently, I was a militant anti-blogger. The concept of being a "blogger" just had no appeal. It had none of the panache or professionalism attached of being classified as a writer, journalist, free-lance artist, or op-ed columnist. I visualized a "blogger" as a poor soul in desperate need of a mouthpiece without any viable forum. Did I really want to read any more blah, blah, blogs?

One morning, considering this word, I looked into the mirror and repeated "blog, blog, blog." I had many comical thoughts. I looked like a person who was imminently about to be sick-yes regurgitate. I also had visions of myself opening my mouth to be swabbed for a throat culture. I also looked like someone who was on the verge of a half yawn. Or on a more positive note, I looked like a choir member in the middle of belting out "Allelulia!" Just look in the mirror, say the word "blog" and you'll see!

Despite the negative images and connotations I had associated with the word, to blog and be a blogger is fun. It lets us get in tune with our inner child. It unleashes a layer of creativity in all of us that just needs to be dusted off and rediscovered. We don't have to be prophetic, didactic, or even make that much sense.

Tractor Santa

Little faces peer out of every window in Portsmouth as the children eagerly await the arrival of Santa Claus. He can be heard from blocks away, but not by the typical "Now Dasher, now Dancer". No, this Santa is blasting Christmas carols and is pulled through the streets by a tractor. He starts his tour of Portsmouth December 1 and continues every night until he's finished.

We bundle up in our winter coats and stand outside with the rest of the neighborhood children. Squeals of delight, shouts of "This is the best Christmas ever!", and nervous giggles can be heard up and down the street.

When he finally arrives in front of the house the children are delighted. Santa graciously accepts letters, has his picture taken, and hands out candy canes. Then it's off to see the rest of the children in the neighborhood.

My children will talk about the visit from Santa for days. Their eyes will sparkle and their smiles will get me through all of the hectic lines at the stores. To me this is the official start of the Holiday season and I look forward to it every year as much as the children.

Thank you Tractor Santa for all the magic you will bring to our lives this holiday season. We will see you next week.

To see when Santa will be in your neighborhood visit: http://www.onaquidneck.com/santa/index.htm

Kayaking Euphoria

I already miss my favorite summer pastime, taking ocean kayak rides with my Dad. In South County alone, there are endless options when choosing a kayaking route to take!

My favorite route starts out with breakfast at Jim’s Dock in East Matunuck, what a place! From the outside tables on the back dock, you can see across the water to The Port of Galilee in Narragansett where the Block Island Ferry, fishing boats and George’s Restaurant are located. After a delicious, leisurely breakfast we unload our 15-foot ocean kayaks and kayaking gear (paddles, life jackets, kayak seats, waterproof bag) onto the small beach at the State Pier, which is next to Jim’s Dock. We load all of the gear onto our kayaks and drag them to the edge of the sand, right into the water, and hop in.

The surge of excitement I feel from my first paddle makes the tiresome task of loading and unloading the 55 pound kayaks entirely worth it! Once out in the harbor, we head south toward the open ocean. Curious boaters wave at us, the crazy people in the kayaks, as they rip past us in their larger, faster boats. The feeling of vulnerability always washes over me as I see the massive Block Island Ferry heading toward us, or even as it passes us. Its wake causes our kayaks to violently bob up and down. The trek out of the harbor can be quite tedious and sometimes perilous, depending on whether the current is coming in or heading out toward the ocean. Once, I paddled for 20 minutes as hard and fast as I could with all the energy I could muster and could not pass the man standing on the rocks across from me!

Once out into the open ocean we can see the pavilion at Sand Hill Cove Beach and Point Judith Lighthouse to the east. We head west, passing East Matunuck State Beach on our right, both of us excited about our next destination. We continue on at a steady pace, enjoying the sun and spectacular views, purposely pointing our kayaks head on into the waves to avoid being capsized. We kayak by some surfers taking advantage of the rip tides off Matunuck Beach. Finally, we see our destination, the Ocean Mist Beach Bar, one of my favorite watering holes! On any given hot summer day, there are crowds of people on the deck of the Ocean Mist enjoying the views, breezes and their chosen libation. Now comes the most difficult part of our trip, making a graceful entrance onto the beach while being watched by many people. When heading onto shore, the most important thing to remember is to keep your kayak perpendicular to the shoreline. If you head in willy-nilly, you are almost sure to get bowled over by the waves and strong rip tides. Trust me, it is quite embarrassing to land on a crowded beach, pinned under your kayak with your face in the sand, bathing suit top and sunglasses MIA.


Once on shore, we throw on our tops and shorts. We grab money and cell phones from the waterproof bag and head onto the deck of the Ocean Mist. Each of us enjoy a well deserved Bloody Mary (these are world famous!!) from their Tiki Bar and play a few tunes on the jukebox. That is the life! Now comes the second hardest part of our trip, getting motivated to head back to our starting point. Sometimes if we have enough energy we’ll kayak past Jim’s Dock to Belle Vue Yachting Center Marina to visit our friends Penny and Bob on their boat, the Leading Lady. There is something about being out on the ocean on a gorgeous summer day that makes me glad to be alive! Only six more months until we can dust off the kayaks and head out again!

Nesting in Narragansett

Nesting in Narragansett was never the plan-at least not my plan. I suspect my husband, a native of Wakefield, long ago had other ideas. Sure it was great to have a small beach house and summer here for two short months that passed in a blink. Sunny days composed of swimming in the ocean, playing tennis and golf, dining out, and many a party and ice cream cone. We closed up the house the day after Labor Day and never gave Narragansett a thought until next June. We were gone.

At least that's what I thought. One day my husband broached the idea of living in Narragansett year round. Surely he was jesting. It was just the average mid life crisis that descends upon a person out of nowhere when one almost demands a change. It wasn't. He was for real and before I knew it, I was living in Narragansett year round. Yikes!

The first winter down here was my version of Outward Bound. We had a small house with electric heat and everything I asked for that Christmas had the word "fleece" in it. Fleece pajamas, fleece bathrobe, fleece blankets. I think I was the one who had been fleeced. My daughter actually would spend nights on the computer doing her homework wearing gloves. I've sold many houses but none colder than this one!

It wasn't only cold; but I had landed in the social tundra of the state. Where were all the people? Who ever knew what happened to this place after Labor Day? During the summer, one is hard pressed to get a parking space along the seawall; but during the winter s t r e t c h, you can't even see a car near the seawall. Everything seemed to shut down and so did I.

It's taken about three years; but I'm coming around. I am learning to love and appreciate the beauty and simplicity of this coastal town. There are fewer choices to make and that has freed up a lot of my time and improved the quality of my life. I used to scour the malls; but my shopping habits have changed. It's now Marshalls or bust. I've made a lot of new friends. I have my dog walking buddies, my work colleagues, my yoga pals, and my "C'mon over for tea or wine" neighbors. And during the long winter months, we are each other's support team.

My husband and I were sitting out on our porch recently. We had taken our dog Daisy for a long walk on the beach in the morning and spent the remainder of the day outside doing yard work and planting bulbs. Looking out towards the sunset, he remarked, "This is God's country." I have to admit that maybe he's right.

One In A Million!!!!!

A number of years ago I had the honor and privilege to land on an aircraft carrier, The USS Independence. This wondrous opportunity came about through my dear cousin’s diplomatic connections.

Early one steamy humid spring morning, twenty one lucky people assembled at the Kai Tak Airport in Hong Kong. We were quickly ushered into an isolated room where our passports were temporarily confiscated, to be carefully scrutinized. We were briefed and told that we would not be apprised of the location of our flight destination for security reasons. It was somewhere in the South China Sea, that is all we knew.

After getting the go ahead, we were driven in a small bus far across the tarmac to a remote corner of the airport, where our awaiting military turbo prop was poised between a Mongolian Airlines Jet and a Siberian Airlines Jet. It was a C -2 Greyhound which carries cargo, people and mail to the ship. Upon entering the small confines, I noticed that all the seats faced backward and that there were only two windows. Quick as a bunny, I jumped into one of the two window seats! We were given life jackets and cranials, hard plastic fronted helmets which pilots wear, to don. Half an hour into the flight, as I gazed down at the endless sparkling sea, I saw eight small specks on the water. OH BOY! What had I gotten myself into this time! Those eight specks were the fleet, the largest being The USS Independence. We were going to land on one of those specks!! The fleet was steaming toward Hong Kong from Japan, where it was based at the time. As we braced for the landing, by tucking our heads into our legs with our arms wrapped around them and our feet propped high up against the seat in front of us, the plane touched down. Upon landing, it came to a quick rough abrupt halt in under 200 feet! The plane actually has a large hook which is attached to its rear undercarriage. The hook, hopefully, catches on one of the four cables, which are stretched across the deck of the carrier, to snag it.

We were formally greeted by the fleet commander and respective captains, all of whom had attended the Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island! The obligatory photos were taken and then we entered this gigantic cavernous ship. It is twenty five stories from keel to mast top and is a huge self contained floating city which can travel up to 500 miles a day! We stepped through one hatch after another, from one endless compartment to another. All these hatch doors can be sealed shut if the occasion arises.

The destination was the officers’ dining room. We were treated to a scrumptious meal while watching our arrested landing on a large screen TV. All landings and take offs are taped in case of crashes. After lunch we toured the bridge where the captain oversees the running of that enormous ship. He sits in one of the most imposing chairs that I have ever seen, it looked like a quasi Barcalounger/throne, how fascinating!

We then retreated back down below for an air show, in our honor. Almost all of the 5,000 crew members were standing on the four acre expanse! All crew members must wear life jackets while on deck. It was quite colorful since they are all color coded for each specific shipboard duty, ours were white. It was a gorgeous bright blue sky day, wherever we were located, and the water was absolutely dazzling! I was tingling with excitement and my heart was thundering in my chest! As we were wandering around, by accident, I wandered into the exhaust of an idling jet! The heat was searing and it felt like my arm was going to melt off! OUCH! The private air show was stupendous with the jets circling the ship perpendicularly! It was amazing that the movement of that giant ship was barely perceptible while gliding over the waves.

When the show was over we were, yet again, escorted back to the officers’ dining room. We received our official USS Independence caps, small photo albums and official personalized certificates which stated that we were now honorary, “ USS Independence Tail Hookers”! The fleet commander told us that not even one in one million people ever have this opportunity! Thank you, sweet cousin Richard! Who ever said that family doesn’t come in handy!

As we prepared to take leave of the ship, I hadn’t given much consideration to just how this feat would be accomplished. A routine take off? WRONG! There are four catapult lines which are each 300 feet long. The catapult functions as a pressurized sling shot capable of launching a plane in a short linear distance. We belted ourselves in and again assumed the position. The next instant it felt like we were being shot through a tunnel, zero to 150 MPH in less than two seconds!! BANG! I thought that we had crashed, however it was the end of the catapult line! WHAT A RIDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The cherished keepsakes, from that splendiferous adventure, have a very special place in my home. I especially enjoy my framed tail hooker certificate. I still pinch myself every time I look at it. This framed embossed sheet of paper represents the proof that this unbelievable experience actually happened to me!

SoBo, NoBo, NewBo

Thirty years ago, when I first moved to Newport, the whole Broadway neighborhood was so rundown and un-hip it virtually constituted another universe. Think downtown Fall River. Think Central Falls. Unless you needed to go to Newport City Hall on some mind-blowingly boring errand, there just wasn’t much point in getting out of the car. Of course if for some reason you didn’t have a car – say you were visiting from out of town – chances were you would probably have needed to utilize Broadway’s derelict & boarded up Bonanza Bus Terminal once in a while. There you could drop your bags, slump wearily onto a filthy plastic seat, and enjoy a cigarette amidst the exhaust fumes of the occasional bus while you watched a slow parade of defeated-looking fellow travelers – a number of whom could be counted upon to be drinking deeply from crumpled brown paper bags - shuffle by you in order to make use of the public restrooms.

For those of us who lived in town and did have transportation, there was less reason to go. Once in a blue moon it might have been necessary to stop at the Salvation Army to donate no-longer-wearable clothes. If you had the kind of job that required you to wear canvas overalls and steel-toed work boots, perhaps periodically you would have gone to Carellas’ Shoe Store to re-outfit yourself. If were hung over and not in the mood to run into anyone you knew at lunch, you could always join the municipal work crews for a burger and a bag of chips at the Star Lunch counter, an establishment whose customer base seemed to consist almost entirely of men, ardent devotees of anonymity and heavy smokers all. Gas was still being pumped at the Gulf station. Litter swirled around on the sidewalks like tumbleweed on the desert, at least until midwinter, when the dirty unshoveled snow held it firmly in place until spring. When a small, unimposing Chinese restaurant finally opened up across the street from City Hall in the mid-late 1980s, it was NEWS. The unspoken consensus on the part of the locals was that the modest but clean Dragon Express added some much needed tone to the neighborhood.

That was the neighborhood. Grimly utilitarian, a Flint Michigan of the soul, the kind of place that could throw you into an existential funk faster than a Bob Dylan tune. Which is why Broadway’s SoBo, NoBo, NewBo transformation of the past decade or so astounds me still. The turning point was when they tore down the old bus station and built the new police station in its stead. Then the Salvation Army store caught fire, burning to the ground, damaging neighboring businesses and emptying surrounding storefronts. In came the pioneers. First was the funky, grunge-inspired Salvation Café, which set the eclectic/alternative standard for much of what followed. Tucker’s Bistro. Norey’s Café. Island Arts. Portobellos. Pop. Spark. Freaky Burrito. Pour Judgement. Artists began to hang around, then moved in. Real estate started happening, buildings were re-habbed, condo conversions took place. Little white twinkle lights started going up in the trees. Restaurants started putting in window boxes and setting tables on the sidewalks.
It was crazy!

All of a sudden, this moribund neighborhood was exploding with youthful energy. Who were these people? Newporters. People – many of them just kids - with ideas & business plans & tons of energy who were attracted by cheap rents and undeterred by the prospect of failure, people who actually found the depressing nature of the area exhilaratingly authentic and used it as the raw material for something altogether different, something distinctly alive. It’s more than just urban renewal, it’s psychic energy in action; Broadway has become Newport’s collective response to a downtown core that has grown maniacally tourist-centered and more and more inhospitable to its year-round residents. What these businesses have given us isn’t so much goods and services as a town itself, a town that tourism almost took away. And what they’ve made is really, when you get right down to it, not a commercial district at all but an anti-wharf, a secession from the prevailing mind-set: a place for, by and about locals.

Caught by a Train

Lately, Chicago has been all over the news, and last night was no exception. As Obama supporters gathered in Grant Park and reporters interviewed locals, the Chicago accent washed over me and transported me home.

I grew up in Des Plaines, Illinois, a northwestern suburb of Chicago. I'm a mid-western transplant who sometimes has a hard time relating to New Englanders. You see, I don't drop my "r's" when I say "car" and I've been known to ask for a "pop and a sack of chips" or"do you wanna come with". I can't understand why anyone would want to eat a lobster or why I can't find a good steak at the market. And don't even get me started on the Cubs and the Bears! But I'm always amazed at the puzzled looks I receive when I recall getting caught by a train on my way to school or the store. "Oh my goodness, were you hurt?" No, why I would I be hurt, I wonder. Then it dawns on me that most people in New England, especially on Aquidneck Island, have no idea what I'm talking about.

No, I'm not referring to a terrible accident, or the T coming in late to the station. I'm talking about freight trains slowing down your entire day. Put the car in park, turn off the engine, open the windows (on a warm day), and start counting the cars. Sometimes, if the train looked especially long, we would get out to stretch our legs. I can remember being delayed as long as 20 minutes! And forget trying to outrun the train. As soon as you thought you had beaten the train to the next crossing the gates come down and here comes another train in the opposite direction.

Click-clack...click-clack...9...10...27...click-clack...click-clack...35...41...47...click-clack...click-clack...CABOOSE!! Quick, back in the car, start 'er up, buckle in, and go about your business.

Sometimes I really miss watching the cars go by, the forced break in an otherwise busy day, and the sound of train as it sped down the tracks. Come to think of it, that sound is almost as lulling as the sound of waves breaking on the beach. Almost.

Sunrises and Sunsets over Narragansett Bay

Some prefer sunrises as they evoke the start of a new day and all the possibilities this brings. Being more of a night owl than an earlier riser, I prefer sunsets.

For me, a spectacular sunset can be the highlight of my whole day. I like to think of a sunset as God’s spectacular light show celebrating the end of a day and giving one time to enjoy the beauty of this natural phenomenon as well as reflect on one’s day. A friend recently asked me where I saw my favourite sunset. It’s a tie between two sunsets of the many I vividly recall.

One being a spectacular sunset I experienced whilst sailing across the Atlantic Ocean. After a wonderful day sailing in moderate winds and filled with warming sunshine, we sat at the bow of the yacht and watched the sun disappear on the horizon. As we out in the middle of the ocean with absolutely nothing around us except miles and miles of ocean, the entire horizon was illuminated with oranges, yellows, and reds. We actually clapped when the sunset show was over!

My other all time favourite sunset was this summer at Castle Hill Inn with friends from Connecticut, England, and Germany. I had proudly hosted my guests and showed them some of the highlights of our little slice of heaven all day. We were tired and sought a place to relax and enjoy the end of the day. We went to Castle Hill Inn and enjoyed a fabulous sunset over Narragansett Bay whilst sipping cocktails from our comfortable Adirondack chairs on the lawn.

If you want the luxury of watching the sunset over Narragansett Bay from your home, consider Puesta del Sol – which means sunset in Spanish – at the exclusive Carnegie Abbey Club. This custom designed home offers a gallery-style great room anchored by the two-story stone fireplace.

The cathedral ceilings provide a wealth of openness and light throughout the home. Facing west, you could enjoy endless glorious sunsets!

Alternatively if you want to create your own dream home to watch the sunset over the Bay, there is a west facing lot of vacant land on Seashore Drive in Jamestown where you could build your ideal home complete with a dock to moor your yacht. Sound appealing?

Where are some of your favourite places to watch the sunset?

Geo Wizdom

Geothermal energy - hot and very cool. Geothermal is heat from within the earth. Geothermal comes from the Greek words geo (earth) and therme (heat).

Unlike conventional systems, Geothermal systems do not burn fossil fuel to generate heat, they simply transfer heat to and from the Earth to provide a more efficient, affordable and environmentally friendly method of heating and cooling. Geothermal systems work with nature. I've been following a geothermal installation in my neighborhood and it is fascinating. Geothermal Basics

Geothermal, also known as Geo Exchange and Ground Source, is well proven, reliable and safe technology. Geothermal systems use the Earth's natural energy storage capability to heat & cool buildings and provide domestic hot water. The Earth is a huge energy storage device that absorbs 47% of the Sun's energy. This is more than 500 times more energy than mankind needs each year, in the form of clean renewable energy. The temperature underground remains at about 55 degrees Fahrenheit, so you are heating or cooling from a base temp of 55 degrees.
A Geothermal system, which typically consists of an indoor geothermal heat pump unit and a buried Earth loop, capitalizes on these constant temperatures to provide a virtually endless supply of "free" energy. The application of geothermal heating/cooling, also known as ground source heat pumps, has been named "the most energy-efficient and environmentally sensitive of all space conditioning systems", by the Environmental Protection Agency. By tapping this steady flow of heat from the earth in the winter, and displacing heat in the earth in the summer, a geothermal heat pump can save homeowners 40 to 70 percent in heating costs and 30 to 50 percent in cooling costs compared to conventional systems, - they save money in the long run but are more expensive to install than the conventional systems.
Geothermal systems work with nature, not against it. Plus! they are said to be so quiet and so inexpensive to operate and maintain, you'll forget they are there. I am comforted by the sound of my furnace kicking in and cranking up the heat on freezing mornings, but I'd probably be more comforted (and comfortable) if I had a geothermal system quietly, efficienty working away .
Links:
Geothermal site for Kids

Ask a question
For news on Tax Credits
International Ground Source Heat Pump Association

Fine Feathered Friends

When I started to think about landscaping my yard, the first thing on my list was that it would incorporate elements to attract birds.



So, over the past 5 years I have added bird feeders, trees and shrubs, bird baths, and a small stone pool with a millwheel fountain. It is very small, but the birds are attracted to the running water. And watching them is definitely a calming influence.


In the summer, I like to grow sunflowers because of the goldfinches. They come in flocks to sit on the flowers and hang upside down to eat the seeds. Since they are the exact same colors as the sunflowers, you don’t notice them until they move. These birds that are so brightly –colored in the summer fade to a dull yellowish gray in the winter. They don’t even look like the same birds until you look really closely and see the faint yellow feathers.



I do not attract any exotic birds but that is OK with me. Just the usual regulars. The little wrens and sparrows are by far the most plentiful and they are so sweet. They actually take turns at the feeder. And it amazes me how they actually kick seeds out of the feeder to the ground so that the ground-feeding birds, like the doves, have something to eat, too. Pretty amazing the way nature works so that the qualities and characteristics that are selected to be passed on genetically are those that promote the species.

I love to feed the birds and have always done so. Some of my first memories are of my mother ripping bread into little pieces to throw out onto our snow-covered back yard to feed the birds. As soon as the bread hit the ground, a whole flock of little birds would descend and create a wonderland.