Shadows Day 37 Y2

Shadows over Valley

Shadows on Road

I have always had an uncommon fascination for the play of light and darkness.  I see it from the high atop the mountain where I live just as dramatically as on the road I take to my house. I have experienced something akin to rapture after staring at the shadows for prolonged periods. I wondered if I might be having some kind of a seizure; I felt immobilized by the oscillating patterns of light.  This is true not only in western Massachusetts.  On Martha’s Vineyard, the roads are so narrow, that the trees, overreaching in their lacy umbrage, create a tunnel through which cars, bicyclists and pedestrians pass.   When sunlight penetrates that tunnel -- whether the leaves are in tact in summer or the branches are winter-bare, there is a riveting pattern of light and dark shadows that keeps my eyes glued to the road.  I have studied the mesmerizing effect with close attention.  I did the same when my elementary school teacher would use a projector to share overhead slides with the class.  The empty screen was awash in light.  We would make shadow-puppets in the beam of light whenever the teacher turned away from the screen.  Much later, I remember an art lesson I took. The teacher explained we can draw positive or negative space. She challenged us to draw the negative space. “Try drawing the lines of what is not there rather than recreating what is there,” she said.  This flipflop of realities made sense to me.  The world could be a place where light is the norm, and darkness manages to penetrate...or darkness is the standard and somehow, light penetrates it.  Another possibility is that we could simply imagine the world in shades of grey. One hundred shades of grey?  Color is a layer we add on top of the base of black and white and grey.  Color is an entirely different category.

I continue to look for patterns in the shadows. When they emerge, I feel a small thrill.  A hand more powerful than all others seems to be playing with the projector.   

Proper Fit

Among the things that were never mentioned when I agreed to have my hips replaced was the very obvious; the size of my hips would change. Initially, I attributed my new, larger hip size to post-surgical swelling. Nope. As it turns out, the swelling has, for the most part, subsided...and still, I am left with new girth. In addition, I was not prepared for the shock for seeing my “hip bones” protruding at unequal heights. My doctor explained that my legs are, unfortunately, different lengths. He couldn’t change the length of my legs, so he adjusted the placement of the prostheses to accommodate this inequality.
I share this information with you so you can understand why my bag of clothes to share with the Salvation Army is heavy with slacks and jeans and skirts. The clasps simply don’t close. My weight, if anything is less than a year ago. Apparently, my new hips are to blame. It is a basic mathematical equation. I thought bringing out my winter clothes would bring the familiar thrill of seeing my seasonal clothes come back to life. Not so much this year. As I tried on this, pulled on that, I found my wardrobe shrinking at an alarming rate.
Today, I treated myself to a trip to T.J. Maxx. When it came right down to it, I couldn’t bring myself to schlep into a dressing room and try on new clothes. I came up with a feasible solution. I would purchase a new pair of exercise pants. After all, I will be doing adductor and abductor exercises for the rest of my life. I might as well look good while doing them. The other bonus my idea offered was that exercise pants stretch. No need to worry about the taking off and trying on most pant purchases require.
I chose a pair of black New Balance yoga pants with “an extra booty lift.” Hey, now that sounded good. When I got home, I couldn’t wait another minute to try them on. One glance in the mirror told the whole story. The hips fit perfectly....but the pants were too short.

Ice War

“Greater men that I have been defeated by ice.”

This was the phrase that ran through my head as I applied hot towels to an ice dam that formed inside my wine cooler. The explanation for the two inch-deep coating of ice on the back of the refrigerator has to do with confluence of humidity, heat and cold. The resulting ice caused six cans of soda to freeze, three of which - exploded. Coke, Pepsi and club soda coated bottles of water, wine and soda that were neatly placed in rows nearby. The sticky liquid evaporated to a glue-like consistency that was syrupy with sugar. The glass door of the refrigerator and the glass shelves were glazed in dehydrated soda.
I have to confess, that for an instant, I considered taking my bottle of ice tea and shutting the refrigerator door without taking appropriate action. It would be so easy to turn a blind eye.
My inner good do-bee voice steered me clear from the dark side. I went into the kitchen to assemble equipment. First, I put on a kettle of water to boil. I located kitchen gloves,
several dish clothes, a big bath towel, a sponge and a plastic spatula. While the water heated, I removed the sodas and water from the refrigerator and washed each one.
I isolated the ones that had exploded from the rest. I brought the glass shelf into the kitchen and used hot water and soap to dissolve the sticky soda sludge. I left the shelf to dry on a dish towel. I heard the whistle of the kettle so I poured the boiling water into a large pot. The back wall of the mini-fridge had a crop of ice that was about 10” high and 24” wide. It was at least 2” thick. Kneeling on a pillow, I could lean in and lay down towels that had been soaked in the boiling water. The ice showed little sign of melting after doing that repeatedly for thirty minutes. I decided to go at it like a warrior. I balled up a bath towel and laid it on the floor of the fridge. With a fresh pot of boiling water, I was able to pour water directly onto the ice, soaking it up with the bath towel. Finally, I saw the ice shrink about an inch all the way around. At this point, I was lying on my back because my hips were arguing with me about doing this project to begin with. I chopped away at the ice with my plastic spatula. For all my troubles, I got slivers of ice in my face. Nothing more significant than that. My mind cast ahead at what needed to be done in order to put this project to bed. Ice and all. I still had to wash and put away about thirty cans of soda and water. It was at that instant I conceded defeat for today.
Over the next ten minutes, I did cleanup duty and returned things to order. Towels went into the washing machine. The pot was rinsed, dried and put away. The spatula was dried and put away. I put away the soda and water and ice tea -- minus six cans of soda and an inch of ice- placing them back into the clean refrigerator. The glass door looks so much nicer without the veneer of soda coating it.
The ugly truth, however, is that the ice won. I did not succeed in removing all of it.
All I could do was make sure none of the soda cans or bottles of wine could come directly in contact with it. The ice, short of my unplugging the refrigerator and waiting overnight, was victorious.
Not just the Titanic was defeated by ice.
Day 37