Monica Ferris

Florida was great! I sent home a short entry for last Tuesday, but Ellen couldn’t figure out how to post it, so . . .

It is wonderful to get out of the car at an airline terminal in two degree weather, go inside and go on an airplane ride for three and a half hours, and walk out of another terminal into seventy-five degree weather. America is a great country, smart enough to get its empire all in one place instead of spread out in bits all over the world, so it’s a short trip to whatever climate you want. Fort Meyers set two high-temperature records the four days I was down there. I got the start of my summer tan sitting outside my niece and nephew’s house and walking the beach on Sanibel Island collecting shells. My niece and nephew were wonderful hosts, I had a relaxing and interesting and comfortable time. Sometimes even a brief break can restore a person’s soul, I don’t think I realized how much I needed that break. Joe and Reggie have a charming little house, a friendly rescue cat that’s part lynx (!) and a very friendly dog of a breed I’d never heard of before: black-mouthed cur. I though “cur” was a slur word, but here’s a middle-size short hair tan dog with big black patches over each eye with that word a part of her breed name. She greeted me at the door with wagging tail and came often to rest her head on my knee to ask for strokes.

And I’m back at work on Tying the Knot. Life is good.

I’m in Florida! And the weather’s fine. It cools down in the evening, but the days are nice and hot. Been to the beach of Sanibel Island and picked up some pretty shells, bought some earrings and a bright pink hooded sweatshirt. It is so lovely to go outside in the morning in shorts and top, to sit in the sun and get really warm. The sun falls like a benediction on my face. I think of the far frozen north, where the temperature struggles to reach double figures above zero, and I try to rise to pity for those poor folks. But I’m so busy enjoying the warmth, the palm trees, the kind niece and her sweet husband, that I just can’t quite make it to true pity. Especially when the forecast is for more of the same. I’ll be home Friday.

Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, we’re going to go get our foreheads smudged with the black ashes of last year’s palms. “Remember man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return.” And Lent begins.

I finished the short story! I’m hoping, hoping, hoping that means the long writer’s block is ending. The story is close to six thousand words and has two (count ‘em) clever clues embedded in it. It’s not my best writing, but it’s a good story and I’m all cock-a-hoop over it. It’s for the third volume of an anthology called Cooked to Death, pub date not set as yet. My story is called “Joyous Death.” A connection I made with the Hennepin County Medical Examiner worked out really well, he was extremely helpful and I’d like to consult with him again.

I’m going to Florida! I have a niece living near Fort Myers who has been asking me to visit, and I’ve wanted to, but several things have held me back – and finally her husband cut through my worries and simply bought me a plane ticket. So I don’t have to drive alone in an aging car trying to work in a minor detour to visit my sister in Terre Haute. Just go to the airport and fly down for a week. And not bring back the antique chair she picked up for me; will do that another time. See? Just cut down to the basics and it gets simple. You know, that might make a great title for another short mystery: “Getting Back to Basics.”   Hmmmm . . .

Does anyone out there have a list of the drugs (etc.?) searched for in the usual medical examiner’s blood screen done in autopsy? Thanks. I’m in touch with an ME, but he’s crazy busy because the Super Bowl is in town, and I’m kind of in a hurry.

And yes, it’s for some fiction I’m writing.

(Later)  Hold on, I seem to have caught our ME in a creative mode.  He’s made a suggestion that works.  It’s so good, I might have to make him co-author!  Isn’t life interesting?

While doing research for this, I came across a saying often found in a medical examiner’s office.  I’m going to have to look it up to quote it correctly, but the gist of it is, Death will joyously help the living.  Meaning via autopsy.

Java the cat has this curious habit I call “holding hands.” When I’m in bed, or sitting comfortably in my recliner, she will join me, snuggling close, and will put one or both forepaws firmly down in the palm of my hand and go to sleep that way. Sometimes I think she’s signaling that she’s had enough stroking, but other times I think she’s just being companionable.

The talk on my coin collection at St. George’s went all right, but the audience was small, perhaps a dozen. Still, they listened, asked questions, and laughed at the right places. I am going to turn my talk into an essay which I will publish on my web site, complete with pictures of some of the coins.  Meanwhile I will continue to fill in my collection.  Anyone out there got a William and Mary?

Several people have suggested I need to add to our household insurance because of this collection. Perhaps I should ask our agent. But then, my coins are not museum-quality, plus a thief wouldn’t be able to drop them into vending machines or buy a Happy Meal with them (the sad fate of a lot of valuable American coin collections that get stolen). Worse, not every coin shop deals with medievals or even the later coins. Maybe a Victoria or a George III, but an Edward III? Or a Charles I?  So how could a thief profit by his theft?  I love my coins, but mine is not a common taste, even among numismatists. On yet another hand, a thief may not know that.

Yesterday, around nine in the morning, it began quietly to snow. And it snowed and snowed and snowed. Fortunately, I had finished my water exercises by nine and when I went grocery shopping around eleven, it was hazardous out there, but the store was only a few blocks away. By a little after one, I was safe at home, watching the snow blow horizontally past our big front window. It continued like that until nearly dark, and was still snowing lightly when I went to bed.   I like writing about blizzards, but actually being out in one? Not so much. One nice thing about Minnesota is that this kind of thing happens all the time, except in July, and so we are heavily invested in snow removal equipment. The main arteries are already passable and by tomorrow I can drive anywhere in the cities.

I’ve been reading a really good book, The History of Money, by Jack Weatherford. Starting with the first coins, made in Lydia in the fifth century BC, to our current venture into electronic money, the author uses clear language to show how money shapes culture, even civilization itself. Fascinating!

For anyone in the Twin Cities area this coming Sunday, January 21, and interested in English coinage from Canute to Elizabeth II, I am giving a short lecture on that subject at my church. St. George’s Episcopal Church in St. Louis Park will host me (I’m a member) between the services (8 am and 10:30) from nine-fifteen am until ten o’clock. I will have my collection of English coins on display. For a dollar you can also buy a cup of coffee or tea and choose from among a selection of really good pastries. A sample from my talk:

Control of money belongs to the government, which is why the head of government in kingdoms is stamped on the coin. Father Tom preached a few months ago on Baptism, on how the Sacrament puts a stamp on the new Christian, marking him or her as “Christ’s own forever.” This leads me to come to all kinds of allegorical connections between the Sacrament and my coins, some of them, probably, incorrect, even heretical. But still, Christ is the head of our church, and by Baptism we are marked as His permanently in the same way as these coins are permanently stamped with the face of the person responsible for their existence. I find that a lovely coincidence.

Do come if you can. The doughnuts really are good.

Well, possibly my muse is awakening, but is still not interested in my novel. Instead, it (she?) is currently hard at work on a presentation I am going to give at my church on January 21 on “1,000 Years of English Money.” If you go back a thousand years from Elizabeth II, you come to Canute, who became King of England in 1016. I have long been endeavoring to collect a silver coin from each reign between the two. It’s not complete – I’m missing ten monarchs and the two Cromwells – but I have enough to give a pretty good overview of the coins and the history of the people they represent. And I’m also giving a very generalized history of the start of money, and connecting it to the Christian Sacrament of Baptism. All in forty-five minutes.

Driving home Monday morning from water exercise, I saw two small hawks (maybe peregrines?) sitting side by side on the same light standard, very cute. I was a little surprised, because hawks are territorial, each needing so many acres in order to find enough food to sustain himself. Then I thought, I bet they’re a breeding pair! Awwww, love in the air . . . But in January? Yes, because raptor birds feed their young on the young of other animals, and so need a head start in the laying of eggs, so their young are hatched in time for their parents to gather other animals’ eggs and young. Crows, for example, are also pairing up, seeking nest locations, in order to hatch their babies just in time for their main diet of newborn rabbits. It’s factoids like that that tone down my sentimental feelings about nature. Red in beak and claw indeed.

No New Year’s Eve Penny Ante Poker Party – too many people were sick, including Ellen, so we had to cancel.

So it was a quiet ending to the year. I took the bottle of chilled champagne down to the party room to share with other residents, had some friendly conversation, then came back up to share the last of it with Ellen. Went to bed early, slept well, woke refreshed. Not a bad way to welcome 2018.

After months of off-and-on trying, I finally have a photograph of our cat Java that shows her curious profile, the shortened muzzle and rounded forehead.  When she yawns, her mouth splits her face almost back to her ears!

New year’s resolution: Re-awaken my muse so I can finally finish Tying the Knot.

Had a lovely Christmas!  Went to a family gathering (chaos among the children opening presents!) Christmas Eve, then another gathering among friends Christmas Day, and will have a light supper featuring an authentic Christmas pudding today.  And it’s not over yet. It is good to remember that there are twelve days of Christmas, that despite every trace of it vanishing from the commercial world (except for shopworn things in sale bins) on December 26, the Twelfth Day of Christmas is not until January 6. So my tree continues to twinkle, I’m going to a caroling party on the 29^th, and the Three Magi don’t arrive at the Stable in my church until the 6^th.

And we’re holding our annual Penny Ante Poker Party on New Year’s Eve. Its origins are lost in the mists of time. When we were young it would last nearly all night; nowadays it breaks up soon after we toast the New Year in. But it’s still great fun once we peruse the reminders I set out on the ranking of hands – most of us only play once a year, and can’t remember until reminded whether or not a straight beats a flush. I do remember that in all that time, I’ve had two natural royal flushes, the last one eight or nine years ago. My “poker face” got a real workout those times. Joke: A man was boasting that he’d taught his dog to play poker, but noted that he wasn’t a good player. “He wags his tail when he’s got a good hand.”

And thus reminded of this turning of the season, I offer my favorite toast: “Health, wealth, love, and time to enjoy them.