Winter was fairly mellow until two weeks ago when late snows inundated our landscape. Finally the temps are rising from single digits to the almost balmy days of 40 degrees. I am more than ready to say “Until next year!” to winter. As the rains begin to erase the abundance of white snow to reveal hints of spring around the corner I have pulled up a batch of appropriate words to sign off my least favorite season.
Apricity: the warmth of the sun in winter–I am known to park my lounger in the open garage, curl up in a blanket over my winter togs and nap in the sun.
Psithurism: rustling or whispering sound–such as the wind in the trees; oh those wintry storms that send shivers of snow down from branches when I walk under them.
Hiemal: of or relating to winter—look for this one when the weather person is trying to be above the norm in describing how cold it is.
Subnivean: situated or occurring under the snow–like the snow shovel I forgot to put away the last time I cleared the driveway.
Brabble: noisy, quarrelsome chatter–as in a Super Bowl Sunday living room gathering
Psychrophilic: thriving at a relatively low temperature—as in all those juncos and chickadees that flock into my front yard foraging for the bird seed we toss out.
Skijoring: a winter sport in which a person wearing skis is drawn over snow or ice by a horse or vehicle—family home movies show my dad towing my mom behind our ‘57 Chevy down the snowy streets (disclaimer: of course we wouldn’t do this today).
Sitzmark: a depression left in the snow by a skier falling backward—yup, just like it sounds.
Brumation: a state or condition of sluggishness, inactivity, or torpor exhibited by reptiles (such as snakes or lizards) during winter or extended periods of low temperature—I can especially relate to this particular word.
January remained cold, yet snow free and blue skies which that helps me get through the winter wobblies. Some people might feel cozy, safe, and warm as they sit by the window overseeing that whitened landscape. Not I. It’s claustrophobic to me. Like being trapped in a snow globe.
This winter has been unusual with its lack of snowy days. And I’m appreciative. Seeing nature’s colors unfettered by snowfall, enhanced by clear blue skies, even though it might be in the single or low double digits, is a tonic compared to the dreariness of accumulated snow.
I’m more inclined to read in my recliner by the window when it’s sunny, snow free, although it’s freezing out since the sun reminds me winter is waning. A snow-laden view prompts me to curl up under the blankets and hibernate until the crocus debut.
Well, so much for that rant.
Moving on to book highlights for January, those five star reads:
Checkmate to Murder (#25) by E.C.R. Lorac
image: Amazon
E.C.R Lorac’s Inspector Macdonald of Scotland Yard is both competent and likable in his approach to solving a crime. He isn’t quirky or pompous and projects an “everyman” persona as he goes about his investigation. This particular murder story involves an assortment of characters and the plot moves along at a slow and steady pace, so much so that it almost appears that the investigating becomes filler. This is the underlying method of the author: cast a wide net and then slowly let all the dross screen away until the solution is obvious and ends up being so clever and in front of the reader throughout the story.
Looking forward to searching out the other Inspector Macdonald stories.
The Fortnight in September by R.C. Sherriff
image: Abebooks
Written in simple yet elegant prose readers follow the Stevens, a British family, during their annual two week seaside holiday. The story is deceptive in that it lulls one in thinking nothing exciting is happening as each member goes the quotidian aspects of a vacation; however, each person is experiencing moments of inner speculation which defines who they are. They are living life, which is exciting overall as realizations are made that don’t seem profound but actually are.
The father comes to accept his lot in life will not include a promotion and decides to embrace what he has instead of become bitter at what he never will obtain.
The mother willingly goes along with the charade that she enjoys this annual excursion since she loves seeing her family’s happiness.
The daughter, on the cusp of love and independence, takes a small step in moving out of her home to create her own life.
The son, recently graduated from school and now at his first job, works out his resentment at having to be middle class, resolving to be better, not bitter.
The youngest, still in the throes of childhood, provides the joy of discovery of experience and the security of family.
Written in 1931, a relatively calm time, the story is a lovely, satisfying balm to the complicated times of today.
Only two books made the five star list; on the other hand they were excellent reads. In fact the Sherriff novel had written across the cover “highly recommend.” And I agree.
I’m a boomer, which means I grew up with television. I remember that freestanding television set that sat in the room off my parents’ bedroom. There was a couch and a coffee table which I guess would make it a den.
The early years
Shows were black and white, channels were three, and times were 6 am (farmer’s report) to 11 pm (news). Then nothing played except the sign off signal and this:
mystical—isn’t it?
Color TV was for the income bracket above ours. My uncle had one.
TV furniture
I remember being mesmerized seeing Lassie in color.
from this
to this
It didn’t take long for our family to get a color console. I think my mom and her brother had a friendly competition going about keeping up with the latest.
I grew up with shows like “Dobie Gillis,” my older brother’s liking. My faves were “The Mickey Mouse Club,”“Romper Room,” and “Soupy Sales.” And sometimes “Captain Kangaroo.”
this guy didn’t always come with a filter
Locally we had JP Patches. Yes, among my first celebrity crushes was a clown. This was before Stephen King changed our perspective about them.
great show
Of course there was “Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color” hosted by Uncle Walt. It was a highlight of the week.
Every Sunday night right before bedtime
Television sounds like a huge part of my childhood and yet I have more memories of being outside playing than being inside watching.
As I grew up so did television in depth and presentation. There were more channels, more programs, more dedication to certain shows. Instant access to world events, which wasn’t always a positive.
Setting up a college dorm room involved packing a portable TV. These were black and white, but hey, it beat having to go to the dorm lounge and have to watch the show of whoever got there first.
handy, so handy
Young married life had other priorities besides buying a TV, yet somehow we bought one.
sleek, not fake furniture
Without cable or a dish the access to stations remained limited to the basic three stations: ABC, NBC, and CBS. We mainly tuned in to PBS. My kids were “Reading Rainbow” fans. Since I worked at a library books were a bigger focus than TV shows and we watched our fair share of VHS movies.
Once we became an empty nester household there were more evening hours and more income. PBS and DVD movies were still the norm. Buy into cable or dish? Pay to watch TV?!?
Then our oldest son convinced us to buy his old flat screen. Very nice. Then with my government economic boost check I invested in my own smart TV with a soundbar and installed it in a vacated kids room (now my office or Mom Cave). The hubs was shocked. Considering how much I wasn’t into watching programmed television suddenly I had more stations than I could possibly imagine at the tips of my fingers.
not my cave, yet it’s got the gist
Choice and availability didn’t change my habits though. I still watch PBS, being annoyed with commercial TV,I still abstained from paying for TV. That is until T-Mobile came up with such a customer deal: free Netflix and Apple TV. Couldn’t resist.
At first I binged on all those shows I had heard about (sure beat having to check them out as DVDs from the library, if that had that series and if they weren’t too scratched to play). Then I realized I often spent a half hour or more trying to find something to watch.
With winter’s early evening darkness I tend to retreat into my Mom Cave around five or six and zone out until bedtime. Not my best use of time, I admit.
I read in the morning and afternoon, preferring natural light. And dislike working on my computer at night (too much of a throwback to those nights of grading papers and creating lesson plans). I even tried resurrecting my interest in playing the recorder (I didn’t want to disturb my husband’s restful reading time so have that up).
I’m open to suggestions of how to spend those long winter evenings without resorting to streaming (which induces that inner scream of “turn it off—you can do this—just set down the remote).
Maybe I should move somewhere that doesn’t get dark until 9 pm. Then again that would invite a different sort of problems.
January 29th is going to be a puzzling day. Literally.
It’s National Puzzle Day. And we are finding puzzles have found their way into our lives.
I grew up with puzzles. My dad had a special table set up and would spend hours piece by piece putting together some scenic masterpiece. I wasn’t too interested in doing puzzles then and barely acknowledged them over the years.
When my hubs sprang his knee skiing it looked liked the long winters were going to get a more tedious since heading up to the slope would no longer be a viable option.
Of course I brought him books from the library. On a whim I brought home a puzzle because why not? There is a free puzzle exchange on the lobby.
As Hemingway said “One puzzle leads to another.” Well, he kind of said that.
We have now been puzzling for several years and we have come to realize there are some etiquette aspects:
Borders first. Creating the perimeter makes it easier to get the picture in perspective.
Sort pieces. A half dozen plastic picnic plates do nicely in separating out the many pieces into a manageable order.
Clean Hands. Yeah, learned that one day while eating my almond butter with honey toast.
No Pets. Cat hair. Dog hair. Not good companions with puzzle pieces.
Track Pieces. Drop a piece. Oh, oh. Better find it. Or at least mark “piece missing” on the box. Don’t forget to circle the place.
No hogging. Sharing is caring. Set a timer if needed. *Oh no, honey. That a general comment—no worries*.
Break down. Just like the last person to use the milk replaces the milk, the last person to finish the puzzle breaks it down and puts it in the box.
Those are the basics. Did I miss any?
Happy puzzling.
Hometown are faves. Liking all that detail.Ugh. Sky. An unspoken rule—leaving the sky last is, well, ugh.
I really like January. It’s the start of a new year, and like an Etch-A-Sketch, the slate is wiped clean, ready for fresh beginnings.
No batteries needed
That’s one reason why January 1st was the day my husband and I chose to get married. We wanted a day that signified a fresh beginning together. It’s also an easy day to remember.
This year marked 43 years together. It might be one of the only we have spent apart since I was in Okinawa helping out with our new grandson. FaceTime is handy in that regard, although my January 1st was my husband’s December 31st.
Another anniversary to celebrate is my time with WordPress: 13 years, so said the little pop up sent to my inbox. Wow! Really? That’s a long time, almost more impressive than being married over four decades, since a quick AI info grab indicates most blogs last about 2 years, and first marriages last roughly 21 years.
Surpassing the odds is an excellent way to start out 2025.
January is also when I begin anew my Goodreads reading challenge. I always plunk in 101 as my base goal with hopes of squeezing in twice that amount. The best I’ve achieved is 171.
As of today I have already read 8 books so using some quick math—8 books read in 15 days means the possibility of reading 8 more books in a month of 31 days which computes to an average of reading 16 books a month times 12 equals 192 books. Hmm, this could be the year of 200.
I’d finish this post but I have get down to the library to check out more books.
Moving through the alphabet of clichés, we now enter upon the O’s, and oh my, there are some good ones:
Off again, on again: intermittent; fickle. A nineteenth century American expression derived from a railroad term when a train car went off the track and returned to it. The expression found its way into a popular song, and today it can refer to a romantic relationship that starts and stops and then begins once again. I believe this can also apply to weather, as evidenced by one day of sun followed by three days of gloom this winter.
Off the top of one’s head: impromptu. A mid-twentieth century expression originally found in at least two separate books in which a character is noted to think impetuously. It is currently in use and describes a person who tends to act before thinking something through. *Ahem* I resemble take umbrage at the possibility of that truth.
Old as the hills: quite aged. A reference to when mountains first appeared could be one argument for this cliché, another could be the Biblical reference found in Job 15:7–“Art thou the first man that was born? or wast thou made before the hills?” Writers such as Sir Walter Scott and Charles Dickens have also used the expression, and it applies today, although personally I will not comment upon the desire to look like a geologic formation as I age.
Old enough to know better: showing discerning wisdom. The phrase was often completed with but young enough to learn. Found in the nineteenth century, authors such as Oscar Wilde incorporated the saying into their works, as noted in Lady Windermere’s Fan (1892): “my experience is that as soon as people are old enough to know better, they don’t know anything at all.” Oscar’s observation still makes sense today.
On an even keel: well-balanced. A quick ship’s structure lesson–the keel is found at the bottom of the ship’s hull, extending from front to back, essentially being the spine. It must be straight and true in order for the ship or boat to ride steadily in the water. So, an even keel means the vessel is balanced, not tilting to one side or the other, which is a fitting metaphor for the how people deal with situations and fits in with the expression, “Steady as she goes.” Chugging through life’s waters without tipping over is an admirable strategy.
One good turn deserves another: providing a favor for one bestowed. A very old expression that can be dated clear back to a 1400 Latin manuscript, and is also considered a proverb. I think I have received this as a fortune cookie saying.
One picture is worth a thousand words: graphic illustrations can express more than verbal ones. In our visual society this cliché is an absolute truism, just think of Instagram and there is the proof. Apparently this expression began as “One look is worth a thousand words,” coined by Fred R. Barnard in the December 8, 1921 issue of Printers’ Ink. Not as catchy as the well known saying, which is why he probably changed it six years later to the one now in use, and acknowledged it to be taken from the Chinese proverb of one picture to be worth ten thousand words. It would have to be some picture to be worth that many words, although some Pintrest posts manage to say a lot without saying much at all.
On one’s toes: to be in full readiness. This refers to the image of those who are poised and in position for quick movement, such as a runner or a dancer and applies to anyone needing to be attentive to be ready to move at quick notice. Found in use since the early twentieth century, the metaphor of being ready is still applicable. Just be aware that one must watch out for one’s toes being stepped on.
On the carpet (called upon or to put upon): to be chastised. This one has an interesting history. Carpets in the eighteenth century were also considered table coverings and to put something on the carpet could indicate it was to be placed upon the table for discussion. However, the phrase, to walk upon the carpet, indicated to be reprimanded as only employers or the gentry enjoyed the luxury of carpeted floors. If an employee or servant was being called to walk upon the carpet they would be in for a reprimand. Carpets became more common in the nineteenth century, although found more in use by the well-off, and underlings were still summoned for chastisement. Getting called in to see the boss still has that effect of being on the carpet, be it bare wood floors or not.
On the tip of one’s tongue: unable to remember something precisely. An older similar expression is at one’s tongue’s end, which means that a person blurted out what they wanted to say instead of being unable to remember it to speak what they were thinking. Today people are still trying to get that stuck thought out that is on the tip of their tongue.
On top of the world: elated. P.G. Wodehouse is credited with the expression found in his 1930 Very Good, Jeeves! in the sentence: “If ever a bird was sitting on top of the world, that bird was Bingo.” Bingo being a close friend of Bertie Wooster, known for his romantic outlook. I always think of Karen Carpenter when I hear this cliche.
Out of the frying pan into the fire: from bad to worse. Pretty much self-explanatory, although it can’t be resisted to list George Bernard Shaw’s contribution stated in his 1903 Revolutionist’s Handbook: “We shall fall out of the frying-pan of the football club into the fire of the Sunday School.” That commentary could use some additional research for context, I do believe.
image: amazon
Own worst enemy: to be the source of one’s difficulties. Ancient philosophers already had this one out in circulation with the idea that “What is man’s chief enemy? Each is his own” (Anacharsis 550 B.C.). Although the cartoonist summed it up better with Pogo stating, “We have met the enemy, and they is us.”
Oh my and oh my goodness, I left quite a few “O” clichés on the editing floor. If I left out a favorite I encourage you to browse through Christine Ammer’s Have a Nice Day–No Problem: A Dictionary of Clichés.
As usual I set my Goodreads reading goal at 101 books for the year, and as usual I surpassed it. I was hoping to surpass my 2023 record of 171 books read over the year; however, I reached only 161. I think the distraction of traveling to Japan to greet my new grandson is part of the reason. But hey–it was an easy tradeoff to make.
Here are the five star reads from December:
The Hired Girl by Laura Amy Schlitz
A surprisingly engaging story of a fourteen year old girl who runs away from the harsh life of keeping house for her father and brother. Set in 1911, young Joan hops a train to the city, changes her name to Janet and her age to eighteen, becoming the hired girl for a Jewish family.
Told by way of diary entries the story reveals more than a young girl’s struggle to make her way in the world. The story discusses with thoughtfulness Janet’s commitment to being Catholic while employed in a Jewish household.
What might have been a slow read becomes unexpectedly inspiring due to Janet’s genuine voice as she learns about her place in the world.
I know, only one five star for December. The others were mainly four stars, meaning they were decent reads, not necessarily exceptional reads.
I am looking forward to 2025’s Reading Challenge, as I have lots of Want to Reads on my list and hope to read at least one book a week this year–wait, that would mean only 52 books for the year (which was my original reading challenge goal when I first took on the Goodreads challenge. I better rethink my strategy. Then again, I could just enjoy reading and not worry about numbers.
January 9th is set aside for those, like myself, who relish, celebrate, expound the joys of discovering and knowing how words can make one’s day that much better.
It’s a delightful fact that Ted Geisel, aka Dr. Seuss, provided the term “nerd” in his 1950 book If I Ran the Zoo.
image: Tumblr
While “nerd” used to be considered a mildly derogatory label to describe a person who was a bit too devoted to something or operated outside more established social norms, “nerd” is now a means to attach a reference to someone possessing expertise or enthusiasm.
There is a vast number of lexiconical connoisseurs residing within the greater populace.
It’s a quiet existence for the most part. No Jimmy Fallon appearances nor competitive reality shows featuring celebrities enthusiastically endorsing their favorite vocabulary.
It is gratifying to have this one special day though.
I browsed through the internet and discovered a few Word Nerds and decided to give them momentum in their efforts to expand the awareness of appreciating words.
No, I’m not referring to January football action. Besides, I’m more of a soccer fan when it comes to fast action with people running around on a field with a ball.
This touchdown refers to being home once again after two plus weeks in Okinawa. Like what Dorothy said: “There’s no place like home.”
image: ABC News extra: I saw a pair of these at the Smithsonian in Washington DC–there is a definite “ooh” factor
Granted, there were memorable highlights from my trip, the main one being my daughter-in-law’s doula and welcoming my grandson into the world. I even cut the umbilical cord.
Other highlights:
The ocean views. Being on an island means the ocean is a prominent part of the scenery. Having grown up in Seattle, and lived along Northern California’s coast, I am a fan of ocean views. What is especially thrilling is watching the sun rise out of the ocean because duhthe sun would naturally rise out of the east. I’m used to the sun sinking, not rising, in the ocean being from the western side of the world. The sun leisurely ascending out of its watery rest, slowly rising as mound of fluorescent pink, (much like an egg yolk that’s sunnyside up), traveling upwards into the sky to hide behind the screen of clouds is an unforgettable moment.
Besides scenery, food is noteworthy.
The guard dogs are friendlier than they look
Eating lunch Yaki style involved grilling our meat at our table and being served a variety of side dishes delivered by:
Robbie or Roberta, our robot server
Another time I snuck away after our breakfast at a Hawaiian cafe to quickly explore a nearby beach:
I could easily spend more time at this beach park
Another highlight is being aware of the noticeable differences in culture. For one, cars are incredibly smaller. My 2005 Honda Civic would be considered to be a large vehicle.
considered a compact by USA standards, my Honda is practically in the luxury model status in Okinawa
image: Wikipedia–small on the outside, yet surprisingly roomy on the inside
Cleanliness. Okinawa, Japan in general, is clean. Little, to no trash is evident, not because there is a surfeit of trash receptacles; it’s expected people deposit trash properly either at designated places like at the multitude of convenience stores or they take it home. Restrooms are clean and I am a definite fan of how the Japanese provide heated seats, with an option for waterfall sound effects.
image: daily mail options, plenty of options
I also noticed an abundance of vending machines. They are found not only in front of stores, but in residential neighborhoods, even in unexpected places like seemingly abandoned lots:
Handy, I suppose…
I never saw anyone actually using these vending machines, causing me to wonder the viability of the goods.
Another cultural notable is clothing sizes. I needed to pick up a couple of warmer shirts and some leisure pants. My son took me to the local mall (that’s a post in itself) and I ended up buying extra large in size. I am a petite 5’3 and I felt hefty after trying on the available small.
Women’s Clothing Sizes: Japanese vs. Western
Japan
3
5
7
9
11
13
15
17
19
U.S.
0
0
2 – 4
4 – 6
8
10
12
14
16
U.K.
4
6
8
10
12
14
16
18
20
Italy
36
38
40
42
44
46
48
50
52
France
32
34
36
38
40
42
44
46
48
N. Europe
30
32
34
36
38
40
42
44
46
image: plaza homes (I should have consulted this article first
Cars are both tiny and in excellent condition. Unfortunately, Okinawa, for a small island, has a big vehicle problem. A combination of local commuters and military influence creates a snarl of traffic that turns what should be a 20 minute drive into 90 stop and go. Reminds me of Seattle’s 405.
not much of a difference is there?–except for the car size
One other aspect that I couldn’t ignore is how businesses insert random American words into their store names. Perhaps that is supposed to project an international appeal. A neighborhood store advertised itself as “Rolling Stone.” What it sold was a mystery.
I also discovered, after my suspicions were confirmed by my son, that the several hotels clustered together around the bend were indeed as they sounded:
Not exactly subtle
Yes, it seems to do brisk business
It was explained to me that Japanese children usually live with their parents until they marry at around 25. To get some privacy couples will book a room at one of the numerous establishments by the hour or for a longer stay. Christmas in Japan is celebrated more as a romantic getaway time with couples booking stays at resorts enjoying the festive lights and decorations.
While I appreciate my time with my son and his family, and aspects of the Japanese culture, I am a product of the USA and I am glad to be home. However, I really do miss those heated seats, especially at 3 am. Inland Northwest nights are unforgiving in that regard.
Don’t be fooled—Only in resorts is this showy light display evident
Traditionally people associate Christmas and its various holiday garnishes with the Dickens ideal: snow, carols, festive meals, gift exchanges—along with the modern additions of multiple opportunities to attend a plethora of events ranging from craft fairs to baking workshops to White Elephant exchanges to the ubiquitous children’s church pageant.
Christmas is not the huge wintery event here in Okinawa. It’s strangely different, if not refreshing, to not be reminded every minute in every place that this is Christmas time.
Okinawans, from what I have seen so far, acknowledge Christmas in their own unique way. For instance, the three story mega mall has the usual festive yuletide trimmings hung throughout the stores, which cater to resident tastes. There are some Western stores such as Gap interspersed, but for the most part the mercantile is mainly Japanese in consumer orientation.
Makes sense, doesn’t it? The shoppers are 99.9% Japanese shopping in stores catering to their needs and preferences. Then why, oh why, is all the piped holiday music in English?
This question did not get answered.
Around the island only an occasional house is festooned with lights. In fact offices and stores only discreetly acknowledge the season with decorations. An office counter might sport a miniature snowman or the grocery store might display enticing holiday food items like the end cap of Martinelli’s. Although Travel guides sell the island as a season of lights, it’s not really promoting the holiday. One tourist spot, the American Village (really, this is a place—think anime crossed with Disney overtones) advertises the holiday light display will be up through March. I think most Americans tend to cast a discouraging eye towards neighbors who have lights up after the first week of January. The HOA might have ruffled feathers if lights are up through March.
The big ingredient is also missing in Okinawa: there is no snow. Balmy days provide the going weather. That Currier and Ives setting is not happening. Snow on palm trees? In actuality, the Japanese treat Christmas more as a type of Valentine’s Day with romantic excursions.
And you know what? I am absolutely okay with the lack of the usual festive trimmings that seems to be expected, at least in the good old USA where I am usually celebrating Christmas. I like the idea of a low key celebration.
This year Christmas is in Okinawa with my son and his family as we await the birth of his son.
Pause.
Now that sounds like a Christmas with meaning. The way it was originally intended.
While this year’s Christmas has no snow and minimal Ho Ho Ho, it has greater significance for me as we focus on the joy of welcoming a new member to the family.
May your Christmas be cheery and bright as you reflect on the importance and reason for the season.
Pam Webb 