Fall 2008 Archived - Life on St. Martin's Hill  Looking for current events on St. Martin's Hill? click to the left, over there, and find Life on Saint Martin's Hill, November!                          31 October 2008   Patience         Tonight we wait. . .    * * * * *               29 October 2008   One Dracula, Two Dracula, Three Dracula, Gore!       The doors opened at two minutes 'till two o'clock.  A fairy, a 'dead' princess (complete with stitched forehead) and a clown with mile-high hair walked into the lodge. So did Big Foot.   And then they were upon us.         Throngs of kids and glitter, magic wands and plastic fangs, capes attached to superheros, and puddles of 'vampire blood' filled the lodge to capacity.   I was lost in the fury of high-pitched excitement, and found myself yelling to be heard, "Tours to the Haunted House, this way, please!".       I saw pumpkins rolling lopsidedly along the floor toward paper cup bowling pins, handfuls of candy corn tossed into the air to be caught by Halloween pails strapped about little waists, noses being pinned on witches and the dizzying twirling of kids waiting in line.   Smiling, whispering, twirling.         Within minutes, they were upon the prize table, once gloriously organized, now looking like beady-eyed pirates had plunder'd the treasure.   Little vampires in full regalia came to the table and plunked down their 'winnies', trading in their entire stack of tokens for six new sets of glow-in-the-dark fangs.  (And we say that kids don't really take anything seriously).         Other 'winnies' were more careful with their selections.  Their stack of tokens remained tall and unwavering until the owner had assembled a pile of Hannah Montana, Jonas Brothers, and Hello Kitty pins, with a can of Play-doh thrown in for good measure.   All still smiling, whispering, twirling. There they go again, out there, in search of more tokens. They'll be back. Trust me.     Then there was a little music rapper-dude who was a little disappointed that we didn't have any bling to offer.  'No', I consoled, 'the only bling we have is this'. . .and I showed him a plastic tiara from Beauty & the Beast. It came with a matching wand.   He was not impressed.       Then everything began to blend together.  I heard myself calling out to the kids to come and eat lunch.  Nobody listened.  I saw myself reaching for more bags of toys and bubble gum to replenish the prize table.  Everybody came running.  I led a caravan of screaming & sobbing little kids (one with her face pressed into the small of my back)  downstairs through the Haunted House.   They returned not smiling, not whispering, and not twirling. That subdued state only lasted for about two minutes, as they began to dare each other to go through again.     Back in the real world, the cupcakes needed replenishing, the Truth Serum (aka Kool-Aid) was empty, more hot dogs need roasting, more prizes dumped, pumpkins still rolling across the floor, the air filled with flying candy corns, and the sounds of screaming survivors from down below.     (muh-hah-ha-ha-ha ha. . .)   * * * * * * *               25 October 2008   Season's Official Opening         It will be interesting to see how this day ends up with all the goings-on in town.   It starts today, the begining of our Halloween season, marked off by a huge kid's party down at the lodge.       We have games.       We have prizes.     Tons of prizes. For a small town, we sure do have a lot of kids, which means only one thing: the winters are way too long here.     Sloppy Joes and hot dogs will abound, and every conceivable kind of Halloween cupcake will grace the faces of those that love frosting.     Then there's Pumpkin Bowling.  This ought to be funny, as the bowling is done with an actual pumpkin. Try that at home.     Then the Haunted House, which accurately defined means '. . .a bunch of teenagers running around a darkened basement, with howling music and the sounds of chainsaws in the background, with said teenagers chasing & scaring the crap out of the little ones'.   And they love it.   The little ones, I mean.         Oh yeah, we have candy, too. Lots and lots of candy.         The good part is that after loading the kids up with sugar. . .           . . .we get to send them home.   Eek!   * * * * * * *           21 October 2008   Morning Has Broken       It is early here. Dark and calm.     Quiet sounds of Thomas Newman's piano echo off the wood floors. It's astounding in the silence of morning.       The setters are still asleep.   And Harbor lights are full on, each one perfectly spaced along the sand. A way to mark the shoreline where light has slept.       I look over my shoulder, and see spaces broken in the clouds making way.       Shades of purple grey.       Long fillets of clouds in constant change.       And then Thomas Newman's trumpets call out Beyond the Sea.   This endearing band lights the way for another day. Making seasons bright.         And tapping my foot in time.   it's far beyond the stars, it's near beyond the moon. . . no more sailing, no more sailing,   And ever again, I'll go sailing.     * * * * *           16 October 2008   Good Fences       ~I let my neighbor know beyond the hill       and on a day we meet to walk the line     we keep the wall between us as we go     He is all pine and I am apple orchard       my apples will never get across       and eat the cones under his pines, I tell him         He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.       He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.       Mending Wall ~Robert Frost   * * * * * * * * * *                   13 October 2008   Class of 2009         It's that time of year when the hustle & bustle of high school seniors begins. Time when the landscape changes, things begin to darken early, and all are out in full force finding the best spots for their important photos.       I had the joy of capturing this young up-and-coming. Full of personality and laughter, she's aspiring in many different directions. Since we live in a naturally beautiful, historic area, we had no trouble finding great nooks to take pictures.     The leaves, the sand, everything seemed so pristine, and perfectly perfect.     And what a beautiful setting for such a lovely young lady. She's aspiring in many directions: loves beading and creating jewelry, loves fashion, and loves drama, participating in as many school plays as possible.     Would you believe, a costume designer, too?   Andrew and I wish her all the best, naturally.     "I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any fellow creature,       let me not defer or neglect it,       for I shall not pass this way again."   ~Stephan Grellet   * * * * *           7 October 2008   Challenges We Artists Face       It was time well spent, the time away at the cabin on the lake. The days were beautiful with just a touch of chill in the evenings; perfect for the cozy crackling of a fire. And the perfume of wood smoke.       The majority of the days were spent in front of a TV tray, loaded with crafting supplies. And over those days, I made about ten Halloween projects. And finished them. All ten. I think there's a couple extra in there, but I gave some away and lost count.     If you give me a glue gun and a staple gun, there is no telling the result. I had my own personal power-crafting seminar. And my own corner of the cabin.       You couldn't get into the corner, for all the boxes of glitter and paper supplies that I had to have. There was a secret passage, but no one found it. The dogs did, though. Imagine that.     Within a couple of days, I had everything under control. And I learned how to get into, and out of the corner without disturbing anything (ah hem, don't touch that, it's not finished, and if you move it, everything will go flying because it's not pasted down yet, dog get away don't you know that the glue gun is hot, just arranging things to see how everything fits together first, go away you're bothering me, oh gosh NO don't step on THAT).     Getting into, and out of the power-crafting corner was an art form onto itself. These skills may come in useful at some point, so I'd better write them down.   Like, number one, approaching the corner with caution. Analyze the corner as though you've never seen it before how did that get here? Each day will be a challenge, but don't give up. You'll eventually get in there.       I was able to utilize the same tactic more than once (some people should be so lucky). I would approach the corner with respect, and carefully, carefully now, swing one leg over the heaped-to-capacity TV tray, and if I needed to, I'd hold onto the arm of the blue Lazy-Boy chair. Holding onto the chair gave me confidence.       It's really important to remember not to breathe during this transfer. You will, no doubt, have pangs of devastation flashing before your eyes. The toppling towers of glitter, neatly stacked snippets of paper, the scissors might land on your foot the wrong way, or the glue gun might just take a dive, and that would mess everything up. Because although the TV tray is loaded with stuffs, you know that it's completely organized.     And once you've made it over the hump of stuffs, you settle into the cushy chair with an air of smug satisfaction and a hint of triumph. Only then do you realize that you forgot your fresh, hot cup of coffee with the hazelnut creamer. Ah hem.       Do not allow yourself to go without your coffee. You get up and you go and get it. It'll be worth it. You know it will. Plus, if you don't get your coffee, it will bother you while you're trying to craft. It will bother you a lot. And you'll be wishing that you had the coffee, man doesn't that sound good on this crispy-cold morning, and you'll only be distracted.   So you'll face the challenge of climbing out of your own ground zero, go get your coffee, and when you return, a dog will be curled up, right there in your chair, looking at you like that lady wants me to do what?         Ah hem.   * * * * *               25 September 2008   Perfect Utopia (until 30 September 2008)     This time we'll be in a cabin, in the woods, on a quiet lake, with bears and High Fire Alerts. We'll have no phone, no signal for a cell phone, no internet, and no television.   We'll be miles away from any grocery stores, traffic lights, or road construction.   But the men in our party have packed plenty of fishing bait (they spent all of today organizing it), and us ladies have bags and boxes of beads, tools, every kind of glue imaginable, glitter, paper, pinking sheers, fabric scissors, paper scissors, and tons of Halloween doo-dads.   And an industrial-sized bag of Peanut M & M's.   * * * * *         22 September 2008   Weekend on Lake Michigan     Our whole family got together this past weekend for a reunion, and to celebrate a milestone of our matriarch.         We rented an entire row of these adorable cabins. Loved the screened-in sleeping porch. Loved the red and yellow accents. There was lots of charm.     There were big kids there, doing the I'm-not-getting-dizzy dance. There were small kids, too. The small kids were there to make sure that the big kids had fun.         There was lots of sky on the lake that weekend.       And lots of dogs. Our family loves dogs, and we had nine of them in our caravan. Of those nine, five were English Setters. Is it any wonder?       White dog. Red bench. And a self-portrait of the photographer.       This is the Birthday Girl at aged 18. She used to be a beauty queen. No surprise. Now she is 80 years old, and still has that stunning smile. She's cool like that.         This is Pink-Frosting-From-A-Spray-Can-On-The-Nose portrait. We were decorating cakes, and got a little carried away with the sweet stuff! Oh, the laughter! And the bees.     The festive atmosphere was abundant. So it should be.       Every detail was appreciated.   Even lakeside, I firmly believe in packing these items: tablecloths (they don't have to match), a string of party lights (make sure you take extension cords), plenty of fresh flowers, and a CD player with 1940's band music.     It is these simple details that will add warmth and charm to your memories.       And for the love of french fries, please make sure that your cakes have plenty of roses on them. Because everyone wants a rose on their slice. They will stand over you while you're cutting cake, and they will survey said cake and point directly to the piece that they want. Because it's not a real birthday cake unless it has a rose on it.   Everybody knows that.   * * * * *         16 September 2008   Medley of Mums           Is it any wonder,           that so small a thing,       served up in such fashion,         enmasse,         and profuse,         can make such an impact of calm,         regardless?   * * * * * * * *       15 September 2008   Harvest is In So it Tis, so it Tis. . .           To market they go, every week, he and she. He loves tomatoes especially heirloom; above: Purple Cheyenne.         And broccoli, he loves. Oh yes, does he love.           He loves hims carrots, too. Buy the whole box, he insists to his she.       She loves those beets peeled. Quartered & steamed. Maybe a dash of salt. Maybe, perhaps.     She loves garlic, too; above: Music. Smells so sophisticated while roasting. No kidding. Just kidding.     And homemade soaps from Native Indians; above: lavender poppy seed, almond orange, lavender & sage, evergreen, triple mint. Homemade. Luxurious. Some of you have gotten some of this in your packages. Lovely, yes? But, of course, yes.     She, ever the Scot, loves her potatoes. 'Fingerlings', are these, in Pink and Gold Flesh. Yum. Me. Godd. Ness.     Ever the romantics, she and he both, love armfuls of flowers. They are known, and it's true, to buy out the stands. Why, would anyone expect less, when the price per bundle, is but one dollar?   Pennies, actually. Mere pennies, they say.     * * * * * 11 September 2008   A Day of Silence               * * * * *           9 September 2008   Two Heads are Better than One         So there we were, last night, Andrew and I fighting for blankets to stave off the night chill. And here comes one dog. . .jump and plop. . .right in the middle of the bed. Volney collapses in a heap, like an exhausted woman who's been doing laundry all day. He sighs deeply in that oh-I-am-so-super-tired sigh, and within seconds, he's snoring.   Our little baby.   Volney always sleeps in our bed against the grain. And since he hasn't been a little baby for, oh say, four and half years now, he has no problem kicking one of us in the back if he doesn't have enough room to sleep. Poor thing has to fight for comfort's sake.   In a king-size bed.           A few minutes later, here comes our old setter, the one with fifty nicknames. From the corner of my eye, I can see Bubby Blackstone Dietrich Douglas circling the bed in the dark, looking for an opening. Hmmm, no room. . . .he solves that by jumping into bed anyway.   Lands himself right on top of Volney. Falls asleep immediately and starts snoring in chorus with his brother.   The blanket shortage is really noticable now.           In the dark, I ask Andrew quietly, are you asleep? No, of course not, he responds, and since we know that we're both awake, the battle for the blankets is on.         And both brothers continue to snore blissfully through it all. They were tired from napping all day, to be sure.       Tired from doing things they shouldn't be.           But it doesn't matter. To them, life is all about equality. Whatever one has, the other wants, and sometimes, that means stealing snacks from the unsuspecting, even if it takes all day long. And usurping one's sibling is about as good as it gets.         That, and dismantling household property. But this isn't our house anyway.   It's theirs.   * * * * *             4 September 2008 Too Perfect Personality?       The month has started with a blah. Not your ordinary blah, mind you, but with a revolutionary new blah. This new blah is not yet available in stores, but if you order now, I'll send you a bunch of my own blahs. . .that's right folks, a complete bunch of blahs for one low price! And if you order them within the next few minutes, I'll even throw in some smaller blahs, perfect for those school lunches, or to carry conveniently in your purse! Put some in your car for emergencies, some in the gas tank, and keep several in your glovebox for those extra crabby drivers on the road! Store some blahs in your refridgerator, and add them to all your meals! Nothing makes mealtime more perfect than sharing your blahs with the family all gathered cozily around! Even your bedroom could use a blah now and then! And remember, these blahs make wonderful gifts, too! Just imagine your co-workers', friend's and neighbor's excitement when they receive all your blahs! And since they come in a wide variety of sizes, you can give those 'special people' on your list the Extra-Large blah without breaking the bank!   Just pay separate shipping and handling.   Imagine how good you'll feel knowing that everyone on your list got a blah! That you didn't have to leave anyone out this year, and that you could be so generously giving with the blahs without having to cut any corners! They'll think you spent a fortune!   (Strict limit of fifty per order).   * * * * *     There seems to be no way of explaining the blah in eloquent, say-everything-nicely, terms. The definition of this new blah really needs a suitable description. I tried to define it yesterday by looking up and down the street, and seeing nothing. Nothing but silence, and the red tinge of color creeping along near the tops of the trees. The sun was gone, and everything seemed grey and dried up, and it was all blowing away to the west. What's the matter with you, I thought to myself. It's time to get out the fall decorations, time to plan the town Halloween party, buy fresh mums and lopsided pumpkins, and cover everything in orange glitter! Nope, my brain was just not interested in anything that was not blah-related. A wonderful friend had emailed, wondering where the heck I was, since it is unlike me not to email her every other day. Blah, blah, blah, was my response, and here's her response back to me. Please forgive any spelling or grammerical issues, as English is her second language (isn't it amazing that she writes so well in English?).   * * *   Dear Mrs. Kruse-Ross: I would never be worn out from any of your conversation. I enjoy listening to anything, and everything that you have said. I can also hear your little too perfect personality start getting frustrated. That is normal and healthy to let them out!! Talking it out is good, and not letting them bother you so much. Don't end up like Frank - seeing every corner of the house has to be perfect and try to fix it if it is not.. Perhaps, you see your house as a scrapy little old house. I see it as a comfy home full of love and not a model house where no one is allowed to come in and mess it up. Printer and scanner can wait to be fixed. Customers and friends will understand things will get behind because they too have tons of things they should do but have not been done. Floor and clothes will always be dirty, just designate a time to do it periodically. If they are not done, which means you have other priorities!! Take a nice warm bath. Amaze yourself through the mirror - what a beautiful woman you are - from inside out!! That is the girl Andrew so fond of, even when he is sick. Give a big hug to Andrew, and thanks him for being there for your no matter what. Both of you snuggle in bed for a beautiful afternoon, looking out the window and be thrilled that things has been blown away, which means beautiful Fall is approaching. Prepare your heart to welcome this breath-taking nature season arrive! Hang-in there, my dear little friend!! :)) I am here to listen..... * * *   Now you can judge from the content of her response that I complained about nothing at all.   But I gotta admit. . .my blahs are all gone.         * * * * *