While in Massachusetts, I became aware that a whale had beached himself on a very tony beach nearby. I went to see it. The houses on that part of the coast were probably worth millions of dollars. Many of the residents were probably still touring Europe for the winter. The town decided to not remove the whale, but to let it decay naturally. Except for a tiny detail....... it was cold. The whale would languish there for months before it warmed up enough to decay and then the stench of rotting whale would waft through the windows of these very wealthy residents. So it was decided after all that the whale would be towed out to sea.

As with any event of this magnitude, the theories of how and why the whale came to die there abounded. My personal favorite is that the navy was doing some sonar experiments nearby. This explanation would also cover why a pod of dolphins had been sighted about the same time in a river nearby. That particular river had never before been the home of dolphins, so why now? Before I left, another two whales had also died and were on beaches nearby. Rather large coincidence, n'cest pas?

A couple of things for your viewing pleasure. The photo above is one of the newspapers that I was researching while in Massachusetts. They are about 4 foot by 3 foot when closed. When opened, dust motes and bats fly out and one feels momentarily like Harry Potter. Then one counts columns and finds some trinket of information that makes one's pantyhose do pushups.

The photo below is of yours truly shoveling snow so that I could go where I wanted to go. Now don't I look REAL happy about it? I was reminded both times that I shovelled the stuff of why my mother got us out of there.

For the record, I acknowledge that I can get pretty wrapped up in projects. It has been brought to my attention that upwards of 12 hours can go by without me coming up for air. I obsess, in short. It has also been brought to my attention that there are those who want to know what is going on with me. So here goes.

Lately the information regarding my heritage has been coming in fast and furious. I have been working really hard at putting together the stuff and keeping it organized. This is no easy task. My database of family members has topped 700. One of our relatives, Joseph Tripp, was a Union soldier in the Civil War. He was taken prisoner in Louisiana only to be released soon after. Another of our boys was not so lucky. Francis Church died at the ripe age of 20 of disease near New Orleans after a forced four day march up the Red River.

It absolutely makes no sense to me to see people romanticizing such horrible destruction and loss of life as those people who do "Civil War reenactments. If they really want to shoot for accuracy, then they should take 1000 people out onto a field and have 995 of them contract dysentary. That is right. All but five would be on the crapper for the weekend. The five remaining could be left to contract malaria, measles, syphilis, or any number of other fun things. It was not the opponent's bullet that would take you out. It was the deplorable conditions and the lack of food and medical care.

So the barrage of information required that I develop a system that is sort of organized, to keep track of how I have found what information. Yesterday I ran out of paper. Printer paper. Not much that I can do without printer paper. So I took it as a sign that maybe I should back off a minute.

Therefore, today I began another quilt. This one is for my bed. This one is to be completed with all reproduction 1940's fabrics. It is the jewel box pattern. I will keep you posted on my progress. With pictures, I promise.

Henry has a birthday coming up and I am planning a small celebration. The theme will be "Wild about Henry". I hope to have loads of fun stuff. However, since Mr. Henry regularly reads here, much must remain secret for now. If you have any wonderful ideas for a party or something to get him (PLEASE HELP) email me, o.k.?

We spent most of the weekend together last weekend. I had missed him very much when I was in Massachusetts. He apparently missed me as well. We had lots of catching up to do. We went aboard the Bounty and to the Museum of Science and Industry (the IMAX theater) where we saw a movie about Vikings. Apparently they never had those hats with the horns on them. That is all Hollywood.

Speaking of Hollywood, the Bounty is in Alabama being refitted for a sequal to Pirates of the Caribbean. I may fly down when they get to the destination. I am not sure I can mention the destination, so until further word from the Captain, I will keep my trap shut. Suffice it to say that one Johnny Depp is enticement to get this girl to take off on a little jaunt. Oh yes indeedy.

Claudia has a workman in her house for the next few weeks so I have a part time roommate. We end up chatting way into the night, and then again in the morning. It won't be long before she is off and running again so I am enjoying the time we have.

The eye is healing well. The surgeon is happy with it. I don't need to go back until April and I have been cleared to wear eye makeup again. This is good, because I resemble a rabbit without it. Colin still has no clue what happened. He really didn't mean it. Lacy is up to her usual tricks of taking mail out of the trash and placing it carefully in Colin's bed to make it look like he is the culprit. Chuck is still stupid.

And that, my friends, should about bring you up to speed.

OK, a little drama never hurt anyone. But a corneal scratch hurts like nobody's biz.

Yesterday morning, Colin the baby puppy boy jumped up onto the bed and pawed at me to get my attention. He got it alright. He scratched my cornea. Within seconds I was convinced that this would only get better with medical intervention. Those generally are not my thoughts with stuff. I am of the lets wait a few days school of thought with regard to the medical communitee at large.

I was taken (by Claudia) to my eye surgeon's offices where my diagnosis was confirmed. A temporary lens was placed in there along with a boatload of scrips.

Yesterday was pretty rough. The other eye was on strike out of sympathy. I was pretty much mostly blind. Today I went back (Boo took me) and they removed the lens, looked somemore, added some scrips and cut me loose til morning. Boo took me to breakfast and then packed my happy little mostly blind self into bed. We fell asleep and slept until 2:30. I get up about every hour to try to figure out which of the 4 sets of stuff I should be popping in there. The swelling has abated a bit, so now I can open it in semi darkness. Boo has gone to get ingredients to make dinner. I think he was pretty panicked and I am worried that he is pretty mad at Colin. But it is my fault for not correcting him since he was a baby about using his feet like hands.

So there you are. I will likely be ok. It may not require an additional surgery. And I got to see that nurturing side of Henry again. Good to know he is in my corner when the going gets tough.

A Message in a Bottle

The New Bedford Whaling Museum gift shop was filled with maritime trinkets, sailors valentines (beautiful things they were, and very dear) tee shirts, and cool little kits to make a message in a bottle. I bought two kits. I brought the kits home thinking that my two grandsons, Justin and Tyler, would like the idea of seeing if someone might really find their message and communicate with them.

It is my amazing good fortune to have left Massachusetts some thirty-seven years ago as a ten year old to come to Florida. My mother had long grown weary of the cold. In fact, she hated it. When I was a really little girl, we lived in a cottage by a lake in Norton, Massachusetts. It had no heat to speak of. It had no insulation. We were always sick. We were always cold. It was all that she could afford. She subsequently married and talked the man into moving us lock stock and barrel to Florida. So I end up in Florida, living for the last twenty odd years on Dartmouth Avenue. Which, I think, is rather interesting to consider when one realizes that I come from a long line of whalers who lived and died in Massachusetts. 

Add to that amazing coincidence that across the street from my Dartmouth Avenue home is the home of the Captain of the HMS Bounty. Robin and Claudia, my friends and neighbors, spend part of the time in Massachusetts, part in Costa Rica (where they recently bought five acres) and part on board the Bounty sailing to various ports around the world. Robin had just been down to the Dry Tortugas. He and the Bounty were due back in St. Petersburg on Sunday. Claudia’s condominium in Fall River, Massachusetts had become my research central location. From there, I could get easily to all the libraries and museums that contain the records of my ancestors. It is there that I found the kits for the message in a bottle. It was there that I had the brainstorm that would involve two boys, a tall ship and science.

The boys immediately launched into filling out the form included in the kit. They wanted photographs to glue onto the page. They were worried about filling in their address on the sheet in the event that the bottles were found by an axe murderer. This axe murderer, strolling down some far off shore would see a small clear bottle lying on a beach. He might pick it up and look inside. Then, after breaking it open to read the message, would proceed directly to their home to dismember them in the most slow and painful way. I assuaged that fear by putting “care of grandma” and my address. Let the axe murderer show up at my door.

I found the small form included in the kit to be inadequate for our needs. We proceeded to write our own messages. We wrote about how these were two young boys who wondered about ocean currents and other such lofty ideas. That if found, the lucky recipient would be assisting in a seriously kick ass science fair project. At that point, Justin said “but Bubbe (yes, that is what they call me), I don’t HAVE a science project”. I replied, “You do now”. I inserted a recent photo of each boy on the appropriate message. I used this opportunity to demonstrate the find and replace feature in Word. I have a sneaking suspicion that good teachers do that sort of thing. Seems to me that good teachers find learning opportunities in the everyday things. I try to be a good teacher.

When we were finished with the compilation of the message, we showed it to the mother. Then we rolled them up and inserted them into the bottles. The corks went in and we began the tedious process of melting a spoonful of sealing wax over a votive candle. The red wax melted slowly and cooled very quickly. Justin’s bottle seal was an experiment. By bottle number two, I had the technique down pat. Tyler’s bottle looked great.

It was then that I revealed to them the rest of the plan. The plan was that we would get the bottles to Robin, the Captain of the Bounty. I knew that the Bounty would soon be leaving for St. Vincent’s in the Caribbean. I also knew that I could count on Robin to assist with our project. The Bounty’s website would provide us with the ability to track its course. We would hear from Robin when the bottles were dropped and where. Then we could wait. When and if the messages are retrieved, we hope that we can chart the path that the bottles took to shore. Then we can put this all together into a map and voila’ – instant science project.

I placed a call to Robin to see about getting permission to go aboard. Within ten minutes we had the necessary clearance and were on our way. The boys had no idea what the Bounty was or what it stood for. They have never read the book, nor seen the movie. Of course, that shall soon change. We arrived at the Pier and walked to the Bounty. The boys were really excited. One of the crew, Matthew, told them where to put the bottles down below decks on the navigation table. We then proceeded to tour the ship. They were quite interested in the number of sails and the size of the anchor. Justin’s burning question was whether they had ever endured a shark attack. They had not.

Soon enough, the Bounty will leave port with two little bottles on board. Robin will see to it that they are dropped off someplace very interesting. We may forget, in the meantime, until that fateful day when the mailman brings a letter or the telephone rings and a far off voice says that they have found a message in a bottle from a young boy in Florida.

The Abbey Grille and Lizzie Borden

I have arrived safe and reasonably sound in Massachusetts by about 9am yesterday. I managed to find my way from Providence to my pal Claudia’s house in Fall River without a hitch. It helped that she was directing me via cell phone.

Upon arriving, it began to snow. Up to that point, the weather had been dry and in the 60’s. I no sooner had pulled in the driveway that fluffy white stuff began to drop. Claudia and I did some catching up and I pulled my luggage (packing light is not my strong suit) into the town house. Claudia needed to go into Providence for the afternoon. I ventured off into the great unknown. My first order of business was to drop in the Historical Society. However, it is best to have an appointment. They were not really open but were cheerful about checking some things for me. I did get a lovely copy of Nathaniel Church’s etching. It is always best to go to the historical society of the location in which one’s relatives resided. Historical societies rarely have space for any but the immediate area records as well as limited budgets. They are run by volunteers who may be worried about getting home before a big snow, as in this case.

I asked if there was someplace close by where I could eat lunch. They suggested the Abbey Grille on Rock Street. I left my car at the Historical Society and the volunteer dropped me off at the Abbey Grille. The Abbey Grille is a culinary institute. The Abbey Grille is located in the church where Lizzie Borden and her family worshipped. Yes, that is right. The Abbey Grille is the refitted catechism room of the First Congo Church on Rock Street, Fall River, Massachusetts. That Abbey Grille, where, I had the best Philly Cheese Steak that I have ever had in my entire life. The property is breathtaking. The food was superb. The prices were reasonable.

From there I walked in cold rain back to my car. Interestingly, the volunteer who had dropped me there had told me it was “a couple of blocks”. Well, after my walk in the rain and cold back to my car, I wanted to ask her if she could spare “a couple of dollars”. Our views of the definition of a “couple” are clearly misaligned. I drove back down Rock Street looking for the Lizzie Borden house. This house has since been turned into a bed and breakfast and is currently being renovated again. I fear that it has been renovated totally out of any historical value, but what do I know.

I couldn’t find it. But I did find the public library. There I spent a pleasant couple of hours reading and copying a book of the history of Fairhaven. That was when Claudia called to tell me she got really good news from the doctor. Meanwhile a librarian was giving me a very stern talking to for using a cell phone in the library. I hung up and left soon after. I got back to the house with Claudia guiding me via cell phone. We were soon convinced that it would not be a good night for us to be driving around. So we did what any thinking person would do. We called a cab and were promptly delivered back at the Abbey Grille. There was a delightful special called a “seven and seven” where you get any appetizer and a cocktail for seven dollars. How can you lose? We ordered some fabulous chicken and roasted shallot pizza and quesadilles with some fabulous concoction and Cosmopolitans and celebrated Claudia’s good news regarding her checkup.

Then we walked a couple of blocks to Fall River’s historic watering hole, The Belmont. The Belmont is located in what used to be a family home. It has comfortable leather couches, lots of interesting prints of Fall River history hanging on the black painted walls. The piano is covered with a copper sheet for those who spill. Everyone knows everyone. We had quite an adventure or twelve there. That will have to wait for another time. And then after we had solved all of the problems of the world, we returned home in another cab.

This morning I awakened to find the world covered in snow and my cell phone battery nearly depleted. Naturally, the charger was still in the car. So I got all bundled up and went out and got the charger. While I was out there, I might as well shovel the driveway, right? So I did. I shoveled the driveway. Me. The Florida princess with the poodles who wear rhinestones. Me. Who knew! I have photos to prove it. Really, me caught in the act of shoveling snow.

My intention was to go to the Millicent Library in Fairhaven today. However, all of the residents of Massachusetts were safer due to my decision to stay where I was warm and dry. It was officially declared a snow day by us. We hung out. This should make my sister happy, as well as my niece. Between them, I do believe that they have had a litter of kittens worrying about me driving in snow. Well, I do not plan to drive in snow. I plan to wait it out until it is safe. I do believe that a bit of credit for level headedness is called for here.

The weather is supposed to be better tomorrow. I will go then. Until then, we will hunker down, eat chicken and brussel sprouts and watch movies.

Apparently, our dear Lizzie is a distant cousin. How happy is that! We share a common ancestor. It is one thing to be related to a famous person. This is a whole new drawer full of rabbits. Lizzie and we (Mimi and I ) are all interrelated with the common denominator being the descendents of John Alden. We are related to John Alden, the inspiration for Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem, "The Courtship of Myles Standish." Which reads like something that you would dread having to learn to recite by heart.

So along with my other trips, I hope to see the house where Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what he had done, she gave her father fortyone.

It is now nearly eleven and I am in my jammies. Why you ask? Why are you not dressed, face on, bed made, potty swished? Because last night I was the champagne swilling grande dame dripping in pearls in the black taffeta swishy ball gown with the sequined twin set and the sexiest shoes on two feet who hosted a New Year's Eve party. Good thing there was not a ballroom available or my feet would be pounding like my head is this morning. It was an intimate affair thrown together at the last minute as a personal favor to a dear friend. He wanted something fun to do with his new love and decided to foist this party idea on yours truly as an option. I went for it. I set a buffet of hors douvres with cheese and dip and all the usual suspects. Everything went - food AND liquor, so it must have been alright. He brought a neighbor who is a really cool woman from England and she and I have determined that we must have been separated at birth. As you might imagine, since pal John is my opera connection, and since he sings in a Big Band that we were belting out rather bawdy versions of old classics. On key some of the time, in my case. This was punctuated with ribald jokes and lots of the two guys gazing into each others eyes. It was all so very romantic. Well, it would have been more romantic if Heni had not had to work. But someone has to keep those sick people in meds.

I don't know quite how I made it to bed, but apparently I did. My jewelry is back in the jewelry box and apparently I brushed my teeth (I know because my night guard was in my mouth this morning). Although at this point I am wondering when I got a cat - it seems that one has set up a litter box in my mouth. I see the clothes laying about (which is why I know what I was wearing). However I did not remove makeup so I look this morning much the way I feel.

So I had a wonderful time, and it was an act of kindness and it came back to me with a vengeance. Next year I intend to do it up even bigger. AND I intend to have parties more often. That is MY New Year's resolution. I am taking back my life and one way that I intend to do that is to have parties like I used to. Joseph would like that.