Monthly Archives: February 2010

17 Airedale Drive

Memories, , , ,

17 Airedale Dr
Horsforth, Leeds
LS18 5ED
UK

I don’t know how many times I wrote that address on letters and packages nor how many times getting a letter or package from that address made me very happy. Hundreds probably. I do know, however, that I’ll never write it on a letter again nor will I ever receive a letter from that address. (Although, in all honesty, it has been years since I did send a letter to 17 Airedale Drive.)

17 Airedale Drive in 1974
17 Airedale Drive in 1974

You see, it has been sold, or I’m fairly certain it has been sold. Yes, a Google search confirms it has been sold. I suspected as much when I received Jeremy’s Christmas letter this year and saw that Pat, his mother, moved into his house after a 6 month stay in a hospital.

Jeremy and his family lived at 17 Airedale Drive when I first met them. 17 Airedale Drive was where I stayed during my visits to England between 1974 and 1979. I have a lot of wonderful memories of that house with its beautiful rose garden in front and the front door with the stained glass window. I remember sharing Jeremy’s room with Sue and, on another visit sleeping in the tiny bedroom in front. I remember the kitchen with the tiny pass-through door to the dining room and the front lounge area with the comfy furniture. I remember the back garden where I had my first bread, cheese and wine meal.

So today I found myself Googling 17 Airedale Drive to see if it had been sold and saw that Google Street View was implemented along Airedale Drive. I’d been waiting for this — it was not in place when I wrote my entry about Google Street View in my neighborhood. I wanted to see what 17 Airedale Drive looked like now.

17 Airedale Drive in 2009
17 Airedale Drive in 2009

I sort of wish I hadn’t though. Jack’s roses are gone. A side addition was built — probably to expand the kitchen. But perhaps that was there in 2002 when we visited Pat. The back garden looks nice though — but the mural Jeremy painted on the garage doors is gone.

So someone else is living at 17 Airedale Drive. Someone is making their own memories in that house. Do they, I wonder, ever stop and think about the memories already made there? Probably not. And that’s okay.

Noodles on a snowy weekend

Food
Noodles drying on pans
Home Made Noodles

I remember walking into my mom’s kitchen once and seeing bowl after bowl edged with drying noodles. She explained that she was making homemade noodles for dinner. Her friend, Joan, taught her how*. I thought it was weird since store-bought noodles were not that expensive and had to be easier than making one’s own. After eating the noodles made by my mom I realized that home-made noodles were better than store-bought and maybe even worth the trouble.

I don’t know how many more times mom made noodles, but the memory of the taste and texture of those noodles stayed with me for a long time. I always looked for the thickest noodles at the store when I was planning on making something that involved noodles. I did find some nearly perfect noodles at a specialty store, but have not been able to find them since that first time.

So a few months ago I made a dish that called for noodles. I didn’t have any in the house (or perhaps the flour bugs got into them and I had to toss them) and didn’t want to go to the store, so I looked up noodle recipes online. I found a few, but nothing looked like the noodles my mom made. I could have called her, but thought she might not remember the recipe. Anyway, I finally found a recipe that looked about right — and it was delicious. (I added 1 tsp of dried thyme to give the noodles more flavor).

I made the noodles again last weekend during one of the snowstorms and Dean made Beef Burgundy. We’re still eating it since he made a double batch, mistakenly thinking Andrew and his friends were going to stay for dinner. (I didn’t think they would — since beef stew, even by another name, tastes the same to teenage boys).

Anyway, try the recipe sometime. We’ve had it with beef stew and with chicken soup. Both were very yummy.

*Joan also taught my mom how to make sausage, but I’m not interested in anything that has to do with pig intestines

12 months of listening

Reading, , ,

Last year I did a dumb thing. My mom gave me money for Christmas and I wanted a small mp3 player that was not manufactured by Apple so I could download audio books to listen to when I felt like it. I noticed that audible.com was offering $100 off on a number of mp3 players through Amazon (who, I found out recently, owns audible.com) if I signed up for a year of audible.com. I didn’t read the fine print and was dismayed to find out (after making the purchases & agreeing to the legal stuff on audible.com) the subscription was about $15 a month. Hmm, I thought, maybe if I don’t buy any book group books for the year and use my 1 credit a month for the audio version of the books I’ll break even.

So, I went with that plan and downloaded audio books of the books chosen for book group.

That plan might have worked had I commuted a long distance to work. That plan might have worked if I walked or used exercise equipment. That plan might even have worked if I remembered to grab my mp3 player when I did household chores like laundry or cleaning the bathroom.

Unfortunately I did none of the above, but thought that since my work was mainly rote and didn’t really use much brain power, I could listen to my audio books while working. I really believed I could. I told people this was working. I did get through some books this way and thought I was so smart to have thought of it.

I realized last week that I’d been lying to myself and everyone else. I was not really understanding much of what was going on in most of the books I listened to this way and that was probably why I did not like most of the books chosen for book group this year — I didn’t really “get” most of them and didn’t finish several because of it.

What worried me was this: I thought that I’d lost my love of literature. That I didn’t like the audio books because I didn’t like to read anymore. It was a very depressing thought since reading is part of how I define myself: I am a reader and I love to read. Since I realized that it was the listening to the books while working that probably made me not like them I tried to really read again. I finished a book I started in the summer (Naked by David Sedaris) and started a book that Andrew gave me for Christmas (The Little Stranger by Sara Waters) and am happy to say I still love to read. Naked is very funny and The Little Stranger is a gripping Gothic ghost story.  Whew!

Don’t get me wrong, I really do believe that a person can listen to a book and get as much out of it* as someone who reads the same book, but I no longer think that I can listen to books and work on even mindless tasks at the same time.

So I’ve got 4 credits (and a $10 credit for some reason) left on my audible.com account and will download a few books I’d been meaning to read — but won’t listen to them while doing anything more taxing with my brain than chores or walking or driving — and cancel my account with audible.

I guess I can chalk it up as a year long experiment. Albeit one that failed.

*what a person gets out of listening versus reading might be a little different — but can be pretty much the same. Some people just don’t like to listen to books some cannot concentrate on them, but if one does like listening and can concentrate then the experience can be close to the same as reading a book.