THE DAY THE MACHINES WENT DOWN

Thursday, September 11, 2014.

Dateline: Uxbridge, Massachusetts 

It was an ordinary day. Early September in southern New England. Cool. Almost crisp. Some leaves had already changed and they shone bright yellow, signalling the rapid approach of Autumn.

An average kind of day — except, as it turned out, we had run out of half-and-half.

In many — perhaps most —  homes, this would be no big deal. Certainly not an emergency requiring an immediate voyage into town. But. This is a household of addicted coffee aficionados. There was no way we could get through 24 hours without half-and-half for our coffee.

No. Regular milk is not the same. Someone — okay, Garry — would have to go to the store to buy half-and-half. The nearest shop — the deli — sells only tiny containers of the stuff and often has none at all. So it was off to Hannaford.

Hannaford, the grocery store we patronize, is not the biggest or fanciest. Au contraire, it’s the smallest and least impressive of the local supermarkets, part of a small Maine-based chain. We like it because the prices are not bad, the produce is fresh and often locally grown. You don’t need a special card to get the discounts and they give a 5% discount to Senior Citizens every Tuesday. Most important, they are easy to get to and have ample parking.

I was in the middle of a book — I usually am — so I didn’t pay a lot of attention as Garry went out. Not a big deal. Just the aforementioned half-and-half and maybe pick up something for dinner, too. He came back a couple of hours later. Which was a bit longer than such errands usually take. Garry looked amused.

“There is shock and confusion in downtown Uxbridge, today,” he announced.

“Shock and confusion?”

“Yes,” Garry said. “I thought it might be delayed PTSD because of it being 9/11 and all. Everyone in Hannaford looked stunned.”

“Because?” I questioned.

“The credit card readers were down. You couldn’t pay with your bank or credit card. You had to pay cash or use a check. Everyone looked shell-shocked. Thousand-yard stares. Stumbling, vacant-eyed around the store.”

“Holy mackerel,” I said. “I can only imagine.”

“You could see them mumbling to themselves. They kept saying ‘cash!’ … but I could tell they were confused and were not sure what to do.”

“Wow,” I said. “Oh cruel fate! How awful! What did you do?” I asked. Garry seemed to have survived with his sense of humor intact and brought home the half-and-half.

“Oh, I paid with cash. I had enough on me.”

He went off to the kitchen chuckling to himself. I hoped everyone would be okay back in town. A shock like that can haunt people for a long time. Cash. Imagine that.

Everyone will be talking about this for weeks. The day the machines went down at Hannaford. That’s huge.

YOU NEED A COSTUME TO BE A SUPERHERO

Despite my passion for masked heroes, I was always preferred Superman to Batman. There were a couple of reasons. Superman was genuinely super. Invulnerable. And moreover — HE COULD FLY! Never underestimate a guy who can fly at supersonic speeds. A boyfriend like that could prove really useful on a day-to-day basis. I mean really. Hey, Supe, can you give me a hand moving to that new apartment ?

Hey, Supe … the roof leaks … could you take a look at it? And that big boulder in the backyard is really ruining my plans for a new garage. You think you could relocate it maybe? And build a foundation for the garage while you are at it? It will just take you a couple of minutes …

So, I’m a Superman kind of gal. Above and beyond that delightful and very useful powers, I just loved that no one recognizes him when he wears his glasses. As a long-time eyeglass wearer, I tried it myself.

“Garry,” I say to get his attention. I then whip my glasses off, stare meaningfully into his eyes and ask “Who am I?”

He laughs. So I do it again, but he just laughs harder.

I persist and try this on friends, relatives and near total strangers, but alas, no one thinks I’m Wonderwoman or Supergirl.

Do you think I need a costume? Or is the gray hair giving me away?

A NEW ENGLAND CHRISTMAS POSTER

MEET THE FAMILY

A CAROUSEL LION

HOLIDAY LIGHTS AGLOW

TOMBSTONE, ARIZONA

IT'S A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE

It depends on where you stand, doesn’t it? On what you are looking at. Personally, I want coffee. But first, I need to capture that interesting shadow on the wall in the little bathroom.

And the fur people, they have a different perspective. Biscuits. Until they get their biscuits, they are obsessive, determined, focused. Notice that Bonnie is missing? She’s a bouncing shaggy black ball of energy. No way I’m going to catch her (but I keep trying). Even if I do, she doesn’t look like a dog. She won’t until I find money to get her groomed. She looks like a pile of dirty black dog hair. In perpetual motion.

While Mr. Coffee brews and I need to put some clothing on. Sandy is in my office, making copies on the printer.

“What are you doing up so early?” It’s eight in the morning.

“I’m not up. It’s an illusion. There’s a picture I need to take.”

“I’m not going to ask.”

“Good choice,” I agree. I realize I don’t have my glasses on and can’t see anything clearly. If I fail to notice I’m not wearing my eyeglasses, I’m asleep. Ignore me.

SIGNS OF THE TIMES

What I like best about this sign on a lawn near my house was it did not specify who to impeach. Thus it implied we should impeach everyone. Clearly a homemade sign, it remained on their front yard until after Obama's inauguration, then disappeared. This is Massachusetts.

BONNIE ANNIE LAURIE - OUR SCOTTISH LADY WHO RULES

November Woods

A still life of our November woods. Nice to live in a photogenic environment.

NAN - A NORWICH TERRIER OF NOTE

BISHOP - OUR AUSTRALIAN FURBALL

PICTURES FROM THE PUMPKIN PATCH

We got up that morning and headed out in search of something interesting to photograph. I had no doubt we'd found something and I assumed, given our very beachy location on Cape Cod, that we'd come to a harbor, ships, ocean ... something watery.

Instead, we found the world's most amazing pumpkin patch ... a church-run enterprise where they grow thousands upon thousands of pumpkins, then sell them to raise money for the church. A very Cape Cod and New England variation on the old-fashioned bake sale.

We both took a lot of pictures. Garry and I, seeing the same scene from our individual perspectives. Always fun to go shooting with a pal and then compare what you've come up with.

SUNSET ON THE SHORE

ON THE BEACH - GARRY ARMSTRONG

I think I smell something ... food?

Let's GO!

I SEE you!

OLD NUMBER 2

Old Number 2 was once upon a time, the pride and primary workhorse of the Uxbridge Fire Department. For decades, whenever the call went out, Number 2 led the response. But the years passed and the time came to replace Number 2 with a newer engine.

There was no room to keep the old engine in the firehouse, but there are a few advantages to living in the country and one of the big one is lots of empty land.

Old Number 2 was moved to his retirement home, a lovely, sunny lot across from the post office. Wildflowers grow all around and there are a couple of folding chairs and a little table nearby where the fire crew eats their lunch when the weather is warm.

Retired he may be, but Old Number 2 lives on in fond memory. You can visit too. He's just across from the new post office on Route 122,  just past the courthouse.

THE INTERCONNECTNESS OF ALL THINGS

More than half the posts I write -- including this one -- are born while commenting on someone else’s post.

The late great Douglas Adams (who shared my birthday, March 11th -- I'm sure that means something, but I have no idea what) created a character that I dearly love. Dirk Gently (also known by a number of other names, including Svlad Cjelli), was the owner/operator of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency. It operated based on the "fundamental interconnectedness of all things." I believe in Douglas Adams and Dirk Gently. We all operate, knowingly or not, on the fundamental interconnectedness of all things.

We are intricately and intimately linked. I wonder if we take for granted how bound to others we are in this strange cyber world we have created. I have read and heard much talk about the isolation of each person, alone and lonely with their computer. It has been put out there as a metaphor for the estrangement of people from each other the symbolic isolation of individuals.

I don’t think it's true. For me, for many of my friends, for my husband, isolation would be life without the Internet. For anyone who suffers a chronic illness, for those of us getting on in years who can't get out as much as we want and whose friends have died or moved far away. For young people whose studies, work, happenstance or life choices have settled them long distances -- continents and oceans -- distant from old friends and family, the Internet is a godsend. Skype and programs like make it possible to see the faces we love. If we cannot share a hug, we can share face time. Electronic communications are fast or instant. Texting and IM, Twitter, Facebook, even YouTube -- let us share in ways that were science fiction just a few years ago.

Without my computers, I would be truly isolated. The fibromyalgia, arthritis and heart condition make getting around difficult. Without electronic connection, I would be a squirrel up a tree without a fellow squirrel to keep me company.

This post was inspired by Dawn Hoskings on whose post I was commenting when I realized -- again -- how lucky I am to be living in a world that lets me enjoy virtual travel and participate in a larger world. I'm glad -- proud -- to be part of a community of bloggers, a community of friends around the world. And deeply grateful. How about you? I'd like to hear your stories.

HOME

Living in the woods brings some problems with it. When the leaves fall, they infiltrate the house. They come in through the door, attached to the dogs' coats. You find them everywhere, in places you can't imagine them getting.

Trees produce pollen. Lots of it. Even if you aren't normally allergic, the air is so full of pollen it can look like it's snowing ... and that much particulate stuff in the air is going to cause irritations to the breathing apparatus of anything that breathes.

Pollen is one kind of particulate, but there are plenty more. It adds up to a level of dust and dirt that's hard to imagine. You can't clean fast enough to keep up with it, even if you clean all the time. Eventually you give in and adopt the attitude that dust is a protective layer provided my nature.

Between the dog hair, the pollen and the dust ... your standards have to come down to earth. Reality bites, but comes the Autumn, for a month and some, it's so beautiful for once, you lose your breath to the beauty, not the stuff floating in the air.

A RIVER RUNS THROUGH THE MIDDLE OF TOWN

The Mumford River, a tributary of the Blackstone River, runs through the middle of town. The Blackstone runs through the town too, though not through downtown, though what constitutes "downtown" is arguable.

Uxbridge is about 12,000 people. We have two traffic lights, the second of which is probably redundant. Not exactly Metropolis, but it's a very pretty town. We are at our best in autumn. Nature puts on her party clothes and for about a month, we are a picture postcard.