Beeson Banner for July, 2015

 

30 June 2015

Yay rah!  Weather Underground says I'd better water the rosemary before I go for my ride tomorrow.

They might even open the mountain-bike trails for a few hours before the monsoon comes back on Sunday.

I'm completely out of quarter-century rides, so I'm going to Tractor Supply and coming back by way of Goodwill.  Only ten miles, so it may not matter that I forgot to make tea.

 

1 July 2015

Google Maps says it was at least twenty miles, and there were a few miles I couldn't tell Google about.

Some because they were off the map, some because I have no idea where I was.   I missed the turn onto 175 N, and I'm a Loveless, I *can't* go back.  Besides, as long as I'm in Chapman Lake, I might as well see the place — after all, the scheduled ride is too short.

After a while I got confused, and reading my map left me even more confused.  I'd been riding between two lakes, visible on both sides of the road, but the map says there is only one lake, and it should always have been on my left.  And though that road sign is on the map, it doesn't tell me where I am.  Somewhere in there I also noticed that I was riding west, after noon, with the sun on my back.

Several wild guesses later, I found myself at the spot where I'd gone wrong, turned right instead of left, and proceeded down the main drag — as indicated by the presence of a "Marina" — which had gas pumps out front, and sold bait and bottle gas and groceries and PIZZA.  Alas, the door was locked.  I couldn't find any notice of their hours, and it looked like an operating business.  I think I could have gotten something from the vending machines, but didn't look to see whether they sold anything other than soda pop.  The presence of so many soda machines was a bad omen with respect to the chances of finding an eating house, and it did turn out that the marina was the only business in town.

I kept checking that the lake was on my left.

Couldn't get at my emergency bars because I'd very carefully packed three large tomatoes on top of them, and didn't want to risk bruising them by rooting around.  Good thing I'd already eaten one; it was nearly four o'clock when I had lunch at Panda Express.  A small serving of noodles and a glass of sweet tea was too much food too late; I thought I'd look around Goodwill while it settled, but if you aren't interested in clothing, it doesn't take long to see everything there is to see at Goodwill.

Latest forecast says no rain until Monday.  By then, we should *like* rain.

The point of this expedition was to buy yogurt to make dip for the fireworks, but I bought a gallon each of milk and white vinegar, and the other pannier was already full (there was a bag of peanuts under the tomatoes), so I'll have to go back later.

 

2 July 2015

Which I did today, as soon as supper had settled.  Also bought bread and ten Michelina dinners, because I'd served our last two for supper.  It wasn't until I was reading the Owen's ad in preparation for leaving that I remembered that I'd bought a *steak* yesterday!  It would have gone great with a slice of fresh tomato.

So I should have bought a baking potato today, but I just now thought of it.  I'm planning to put all the Yukon Golds into the potato salad.

Fiddled the morning away playing with the computer, but got a few stitches into my new jersey in the afternoon.

 

5 July 2015

Man, what a weekend!

 

6 July 2015

Al is pleased that we brought the patio chairs down from the barn attic.  He loves to sleep on the cushions when we bring them in.

Yesterday, when Dave piled the cushions on the futon to clear the living room floor for the Roomba's two-in-the-morning excursion, he put one on the floor in the hallway for Al.  This morning, when Al was eagerly herding me into the kitchen to re-fill his empty food bowl, he detoured to spend a few seconds kneading the chair cushion.

When I looked to see whether he was still asleep on it, he was just settling in.

And by the time I finished typing that, he was asleep again.

Sunny today, then rainy for the foreseeable.

Sour cream did not work at all well instead of mayo:  the potatoes were dry, as if they had been put into the dressing cold. and Dave detected a rotten flavor.

When I put the left-overs back into the casserole after the family picnic (so that I could wash and re-freeze the serving dish for the church picnic), I stirred in rather a lot of olive oil and that helped some.  Dave says that the rotten flavor is gone.

Washday.  Two loads.  Drying outside for a change.  Rain resumes tonight.

 

7 July 2015

Grump.  I forgot to put a slice of tomato on the ham sandwich I had for lunch.

The Gatke buildings will be demolished next year.  It's a shame, because some of them are interesting, but they have been neglected so long that there is no other option.

 

9 July 2015

The multipliers were going great guns until it came time for them to ripen and it just wouldn't stop raining.  I dug them out of the mud today and put them on a newspaper in the garage; there didn't seem to be any point to trying to dry them in the garden.

Then I thought about how they need light at this stage, and pulled the cart the newspaper is in out onto the front porch, as close to the wall as possible where the concrete isn't wet.

The clump that I allowed to bloom isn't ready to dig yet.  I think I'll allow it to overwinter again.  Might thin it when the time is right.

Some of the blooms have fallen over, but I think I'll get some seed.

The winter-onion bulbils that I planted are just sitting there.

 

10 July 2015

Today, the last guaranteed-dry day in the forecast, I decided to stay home and garden.  I'm not sure what I did with the day, but it didn't include enough garden time to make it worthwhile to put my sunscreen on.  I did move the multipliers to a dry newspaper and throw a bit of dirt back into the garden in the process.  And I pulled several garlic bulbs and put them on the picnic table to dry.  Cut the flowers off the marjoram and oregano, and pulled a few weeds in the process — the herb bed needs for me to spend a good hour on my knees out there pulling weeds; I don't know when it will get it.

Tomorrow should stay dry long enough for me to get to the farmers' markets and back.  And most of the people on the shorter routes of the Tour des Lakes should make it back to Syracuse more-or-less dry.  I doubt that the aid station on Park Avenue will have been set up when I pass by, as it's close to the middle of a sixty-mile ride that doesn't start before 9:30.  Start time isn't on the web site, only registration time.  Countdown says ten hours from nine o'clock, which counting on my fingers says is seven in the morning; that is when registration opens.

Found a page that says that they expect the riders to be back by three in the afternoon.  Still no clue as to whether they have a mass start or hand them a map and send them on their way as soon as they register.

 

11 July 2015

Grump.  I didn't remember that I have two books to return until I got to the turn-around point.  Should have put them into the pannier last night.

So instead of coming back by the library and the Beyer Farm Trail, I went to the greenhouse on Lake street, decided not to buy a pot of parsley, and came back by Leiter Street.

Stopped at a couple of garage sales; didn't buy anything.

Didn't wake up from my nap until five thirty, so Dave baked a frozen pizza.  I forgot to steam the last two ears of corn to have with it; we didn't miss them.

I bought two zucchinis at the fairgrounds market, and the last scotch egg at the Center Street market.

 

13 July 2015

Man, it's dark in here — and drying conditions are poor.

 

14 July 2015

So there I was at five o'clock, popping supper into the oven and thinking about going to the fair tomorrow, and how on the day before I went to the fair I had a very important appointment — at three o'clock.

ARRGH!!  And I promised so faithfully that I would help make the peanut-butter sandwiches.

 

17 July 2015

Had fun at the fair, but didn't think I could walk far enough to take in the animal barns.  Wasn't just the heat; my right leg ached that night; it didn't help that I took my Sunday sandals by mistake for the sturdier pair.

I had a "deep fried pizza", which is a lot less greasy than it sounds.  It was really a calzone:  he rolled out pizza dough thin, piled a bunch of stuff on it — including hot sauce, which I didn't think vendors did without warning around here.  It was subtle and I liked it, but I know a lot of people who would have been scorched.  Then he folded it over and sealed it all around the half-circle, and put it onto a french-fry basket.  Took five minutes to cook, but worth the wait.

But I like to never found a place to sit down and eat it.  I ended up on the frame around the sandbox on the playground.  There had been a picnic table for mothers to sit while watching children the last time I came, but it was gone.  There were still chairs in the senior tent next to the playground, but some sort of event was going on and it was full.  Must have been ending, because a lot of busses from Grace Village and Miller's Merry Manor were arriving as I left.

The sign sub-titled the dish "panzerotti". Wikipedia says that's a small calzone.

I spent most of this morning stamping designs and checklisting my backpack for tomorrow's embroidery class.  Didn't help that the iron-on pencil I used to make the new designs didn't iron on.  It was a brand-new one; I fetched the old one, which I'd already packed in the bag, and re-traced them.  It definitely says "heat transfer" on the pencil.  ??

After my nap, I bungeed the backpack to my bicycle and took it to the church so I won't have to backpack it in the heat tomorrow.  I'd been planning to leave it on the hat shelf of the coat rack, but I found that my table had already been set up, so I left it there.  Also put a bottle of tea into the fridge, since the class will take place during my nap time.

Then I went to Owen's to pick up my prescriptions — a whole 1.6 miles measured from our driveway — and came back in dire need of a shower.  I'm very glad I won't have to carry that backpack up the hill tomorrow.  I wish I'd thought to weigh it after I got everything in.

I put potatoes into left-over salt soup and set them to simmer before I showered.  When I served it, I opened our last half gallon of milk.  It's a pity I didn't notice that *before* going to the market.  Dave says he was planning to go to Martin's tomorrow anyway.

If I wake up early enough, I'll go to the farmers' markets and drop off two books at the library before going to the church; I have to get there by twelve because the guests arrive at one.

 

18 July 2015

I did wake up early enough, and got to the library before it opened.  So I put the books in the book drop.

I bought an onion at the fairgrounds market, and a tomato at the Center Street market before passing by the library.

I didn't get as sweaty as I was after just riding to Owen's yesterday, but I came back in definite need of fresh underwear.  Also soon enough that I could lie down for an hour before walking to church.

Wasn't bad walking to the church — helped that I was carrying a bottle of ice water — but by the time I got home, I needed to throw my bra in with my cycling clothes, which the washing machine had declined to rinse in the morning.  (I set it for "rinse and spin" after soaking my clothes in a bucket while napping; it drain-and-spinned instead, and I didn't have time to do it over.)

I'm not sure I needed that bottle of tea; the children kept me awake.  I'd have liked it better if they'd been spaced a bit — I lost three of the first clump while giving all my attention to other children (well, when you have more than one who needs to have every single stitch supervised … ).  But two of that clump finished, made quite presentable medallions, and demanded needles to take home.  Then I got a lot of work done on the demonstration embroidery (a complicated design I'm not supposed to finish; after last year's embroidery gig, I had to make it two-sided to keep it in progress), then another clump came.  Went better because they'd brought a mother who knew how to thread a needle; I lost only one child, and the rest all finished medallions.

Before I had handed out needles to the second clump, the dime dropped and I gave all of them the darning needles I'd brought for very small children.  Not so *they* could handle them, but so I could re-thread them after every stitch without making a big deal out of it.

The first thing I did after getting home was to weigh myself before and after taking off the backpack:  it weighs seventeen pounds.  (Give or take half a pound.)

It's such a good backpack that it seemed like less than that while I was walking home.  But for a while I thought I wasn't going to remember how to convert it into a backpack.  One of the left-over pieces is a shoulder strap, but the long, narrow adjustable strap with a snap-link on each end remains a mystery.  I buckled the two pieces of the belt together before putting them back into the pocket; I hope that next time I remember that the free ends of the shoulder straps hook on *there*, and that all else that I need to attach is the belt.

It seems like much, much, more than seventeen pounds when I try to lift it flat so I won't spill anything.

I've got a *lot* of sorting to do.  A baby I turned my back on unwound at least one skein of floss and wadded it up, for example, and at the end I just shoveled everything back into the bag without trying to sort or pack it.

Good news:  I did a preliminary sorting to make sure that nothing that's supposed to be flat is getting rumpled, and discovered that one of the skeins of floss the baby got at was from the demonstration kit, which I had hastily abandoned when the crowd descended.  So I wound it onto a card.  I guess that I'll wind the other one onto a card too, but not put it out — there are two skeins of yellow, for some reason.

I'm going to have to buy another skein of blue.  I'll be putting the present blue skein into the demonstration kit the next time I have to wait for customers any length of time.  (I must get into the habit of keeping that sandwich bag zipped shut, with everything that isn't actually in my hands inside.)

We used a surprising number of the osnaburg squares; I'll have to stamp some more designs before I put the backpack away.  And, for the first time, the hoops saw use:  I actually ran out!

Pity I don't know how I bring the needle up from below in exactly the right place; it makes it very hard to explain it to children!  I was thrilled when one of the children showed that she already knew rocker stitch (which is the technical term for the ordinary way of sewing, because the needle rocks up and down), so I could skip trying to explain how to stab-stitch from the bottom.

I wonder whether there's a way of marking the designs on *both* sides of the fabric …

Once the backpack was empty (contents on floor and ironing board), I weighed it again:  only five pounds.  And it's quite capable of carrying everything one needs for a trip, all neatly sorted into pockets and two compartments.

I wonder whether Tough Traveller luggage is still as good as it was when I bought my multiple-mode carry-on bag?

 

21 July 2015

The first thing I did this morning was to tighten a bolt on my typing chair.  Before I could sit down to write, I had to do it again.  I'm going to have to find some place other than Staples to buy my next secretary chair.  Google maps says the only other office-furniture store in town is Reinholt's on the square — we have been quite pleased in our dealings with them, but if they have office chairs, it's for the wrong kind of office.

A good adjustable chair is essential to the elaborate sewing space that a book I've been planning to read and review for weeks says, on the few pages I've gotten around to reading, that one must set up in order to take up sewing as a casual hobby.  Back when you sewed because you wouldn't have clothing otherwise, we put the sewing machine on any table that wasn't in use for something else, and we cut out on the floor.

Reminds me that in the general neighborhood of the sixties, I bought a quilting frame to play with and got a much better and more-convenient frame than those used by people who quilted in order to keep their families from freezing in unheated bedrooms.  (It's no longer around; I wonder what I did with it?  I hope I gave it to someone with a use for it.)

The suggested improvised cutting tables did not include crawling around on the floor.  I have recently discovered that two card tables work very well for most of my work.  After Dave bought one for his computer, I got one to make the dining table longer when I cut out big things (or half a dozen small things).  Then he decided to get a smaller table for the computer and both became available.  It's easier to set up two tables than to unfold the dining table — and I don't have to finish before eating time.  There's been a pair of briefs on a card table in the parlor for *weeks*, while I was distracted by various and sundry.

And I'd better put some stitches into my jersey; I decided to postpone my trip to Nappanee until tomorrow, after seeing that it's still predicted to be clear all day for most of the week.  If I work industriously today, I can wear my new jersey tomorrow.  Except that it is now weather for the other jersey.

Storyboard?  Egad.  I may have to renew this book again; I think my comments will fill more space than the paragraph I'm commenting on.

I ran the five-tine hoe through the row where I pulled all the onions, and it appears that I did pull all the onions.  I expected more.  None of them were much bigger than the sets I planted, so I pulled more per day than one would expect.

Next time I cultivate — which had better be before it rains again — I'll use the slicing hoe, which does a better job of removing weeds.

Also pulled a few thistles out of the lily of the valley.

 

22 July 2015

I've just Quickened eight cash receipts, four of them from Martin's.

When I was planning today's tour, and saw how many interesting things there are in and around Nappanee, I thought that this was a ride I could take more than once.

But it took an hour and a quarter to get there, and an hour to get back, not one inch of it on "It's a nice day for a drive" type roads.  I would like to ride from Nappanee to Bremen (or the other way around), but I doubt that I ever will, unless KVCC organizes a bus trip.

I went up by Old Thirty and Route 19, cutting from Atwood to the jog in 19 by 800 W.  Seemed like a simple route:  go out Winona, turn onto Lake, stay on it.

I turned onto Lake and found the crossing gates down.  No train in sight, so there's no use waiting for the train to pass.  Luckily, I was beside the entrance to a parking lot, so I used that to go back to Winona, intending to go through the underpass.  But I overshot the underpass and turned onto Columbia, intending to use Jefferson to get back to the underpass.  But, unlike all the other streets, the gates *weren't* down on Columbia, so I stayed on it until it intersected Lake.

This is the first time I ever went through the roundabouts in a motor vehicle.  The first one was a little scary, but I took the second one in stride.

No trouble getting onto 800 W, but it's a terrible road, and 19 wasn't much better.

I was a little confused when I got to Nappanee, but soon saw SR 6, and knew I took the first right after passing that, and straight into Martin's.

I went to the Heritage Fabric shop east of town first, then returned to Martin's, bought a single-serve Mountain Dew, left my floss and needles in the truck, and set out for Bremen, intending to stop at Burlington Bike Shop.

 

23 July 2015

My brain suddenly shut down at that point, and I spent the rest of the evening reading Usenet.  I wrote at least one post — hope I didn't sound too stupid.

I was thinking "I spent maybe ten dollars on the tour and brought home eight receipts," but they add up to $17.78.  The visit to the fabric shop brought my average up.  I bought two packets of needles, a skein of blue floss, and a bodkin.  The country roads leading to it are very pleasant.  (I went out 52 and came back 54.)  It was particularly nice to share the road with adult cyclists.  And buggies, but not many pedestrians.

I feel much better this morning, and I just checked:  I can get out of this chair without pulling on the doorknobs.  I was grateful last night that my typing chair is on wheels.

Just after crossing the railroad tracks on the way to Bremen, I stopped to check my map and a scrap of paper fell out of it.  I thought I could pick it up without dismounting.  I was wrong.

I gave my helmet a good thwack, and was sore on the ribs and the back of my upper arm.  The helmet did little; it's designed to reduce the effect of major collisions, not to protect during little fender-benders that the skull can handle on its own.  Stopping my head a couple of centimeters above the pavement may have saved stress on the neck, and bruising my temple on a smooth surface may have saved a cut — you know how head wounds bleed; I probably wouldn't have been *allowed* to continue if I had blood all over my shirt.

Later on I stopped at a country store and walking around revealed that I'd also damaged the hamstring muscle.  This stiffened up during the stop, but worked out when I resumed pedalling.

I'd hoped to buy a snack, but it was a store that catered to locals and didn't have any food.  I bought five corsage pins.

Not too long after that I considered turning around before reaching the bike shop, but while I was still dithering about it, I got there.  Place was deserted.  I looked all around; among other things, they had handlebar baskets that were the currently-fashionable perforated sheet metal halfway up, and wires above that.  Sounds like a good idea; you can throw small items in without bagging them first, and you can still use bungees.

And they have folding wire panniers, exactly like mine, except that the bottom panel is perforated sheet metal.  At first glance, I thought that that was a good idea, then realized that it wouldn't do a thing to keep small items from rolling out through the ends or sides.  And it wouldn't do for me:  I shingle the bottom of the newspaper-cooler pannier with plastic bags folded flat and small.  When I absent-mindedly shove all my crumpled bags down between things I don't want bumping together, then buy one more thing and need a bag to tie it on with, I can feel around under the pannier and pull one of the bags through the mesh.

Then, since the shopkeeper wasn't using his chair, I thought I'd sit down and eat a food bar, but while I was digging it out of my pannier the children in the house noticed my presence and one came running out to apologize for neglecting me.  Since she wasn't going to go back into the house before I left, I ate standing up.

Return was without incident.  I eyed the nice restaurants along the way with regret; I can't eat an entire meal while cycling; I can't even eat an entire sandwich.  I stopped at Dairy Queen and had a "snack wrap"; one flour tortilla with a little sauce on it was just right.  I think that's the first time I've set foot in a Dairy Queen since we moved here.  The one in Warsaw is *too* convenient; If I'm there and hungry, I go home and eat real food.

Loading the bike before I left was difficult; I suspect that that is where I got the blue mark on my right knee, but I could have banged it on the top tube when I fell.

Loading when I was tired and one whole side wasn't working . . . luckily a muscular young man dashed over and did it for me.  I hope I thanked him properly; my social skills aren't up to par at the best of times.

 

26 July 2015

Since I missed my nap on Wednesday, I wasn't surprised to be dueless on Thursday and need to speak to myself firmly before I put the dishtowels and some other bleachables in the washer to soak overnight.  I *was* surprised to still be unenthusiastic on Friday, but I did manage to wash the bleachables, hang them out, bring them in, put them away, and push the cultivator around the garden.

My temperature was up half a degree when Dave took my blood pressure, pulse, and temperature that evening (he's keeping a chart); perhaps I had a sub-clinical infection.

The usual Tour d'Warsaw yesterday.  I got a late start, so there were no tomatoes except small ones I didn't want, but I did buy some new potatoes.  It will be time to start digging up ours very soon.  I hope they did better than the onions.

I think the garden could use about six inches of stable litter.

The good news:  Owen's was having a special on the unsweetened peanut butter I'd come to buy.  The bad news:  Everybody else prefers the chunky variety too.  I briefly considered buying a jar of creamy and a bag of chopped peanuts.

An iced-tea spoon is perfect for spreading peanut butter when you're down to the last little bit at the bottom of the jar.

Not much going on today except church.  I went up an extra staircase before leaving, and walked a little farther than necessary on the way home.

There was a slide show of pictures taken at the Day of Helping.  I'd been hoping to see a picture of my children, but instead they caught me in the kitchen.  Since I was wearing a hat, I was probably washing my hands after going outside for a hot dog.

 

29 July 2015

Washed on Monday.  Tuesday, Dave underwent Mohs surgery; he got back at supper time.  I'd expected him to dine out, so I was making a mess of salt soup, which he doesn't like.  (That's potatoes and other vegetables in a very salty broth.  I eat the veggies and leave the broth for next time.)  So I fried him a slider patty and set out condiments.

He woke up today looking as though he'd been punched in the eye; he called the doctor and learned that it's *not* yet another allergy, just put ice on it.  He goes back next week to get the stitches out.

The point of Mohs surgery is to make as small a wound as possible.  Since the incision runs from his eye clear up into the hairline, I'm *very* glad that Mohs was invented!

It's also more likely to get every last cancer cell, so it's less likely to grow back.  But it's tedious, I'm told, because they have to analyze each slice they cut off to plan their next cut.  The patient is advised to bring a book.

I spent most of yesterday fiddling with my embroidery kit and trying to straighten up my sewing things.  I sorted out all the fabrics hanging in the laundry room, and wrote "linen" on one of those dividers I bought from a theater-supply house and put it on the bar to help them stay sorted.

One of these years, I'll have Dave rip out the shelf in the right half of the sewing-room closet so that I can hang wide fabrics in there.  That half of the closet is practically useless now.

Though I might find some long-lost objects (such as my sock needles and the sock they were in) if I sorted out all the junk that has gotten tossed in there.

I was motivated to get out and cultivate the garden early, because there is a chance of rain.  I pulled some of the grass that has invaded the rows where the cultivator can't reach, and pulled off one of the clump of winter onions and planted it at the end of the row of winter onions.  There was an edible bulb on it, so I plan to dig up the rest, eat most of them — I may have to dry or freeze some for later use, because the flavor is strong and they won't keep — and re-plant just one, probably south of the house.

Then I can use the space to re-plant the clump of multipliers that wintered over; when I pulled weeds out of them, they said it was time.  I plan also to fall-plant the bulb that I held back in case of emergency.

It's a week since I tried to pick up the bike-shop ad.  (I got it, too; at least I found it when cleaning out my bike baskets.)  Most of my bruises are gone, though there is still color in the one that colored, but the spot on my ribs is as sore as ever; indeed, I think that coughing and sneezing hurt more than they did when the injury was fresh.  It's strongly inclined to stiffen up when I'm idle, and it appears that every body part I own has a muscle anchored on the ribs just under the arm.

If it doesn't clear up pretty soon, I'll have to call Dr. Darr.

We're going to have to rent another gig from Peakey.  At a dollar a month, I think we can afford it.  Since I'm starting to put a lot of pictures into my sewing diary, and Dave's pages are mostly photographs, I think we should ask for two more gigs.  But I suppose it would make sense to buy one a time as needed.  (Particularly when one gig has been working up until now.)

I should ask Dave to explain to me how the site works.  But I confuse easily, and all I really need to know is how to operate WS_FTP and Filezilla.  But it would be helpful to know just how much stuff I have and how much room is left.

When I was getting ready for my nap, Dave exclaimed "What happened to your leg?".  I looked down, and sure enough, there was a small blue mark behind my right knee.  "No, your *other* leg."

So I got out my hand mirror and holy cow!  I've got a bruise as wide as my leg from just above the back of the knee to halfway up my thigh.  No wonder I was limping around!  Reassuring to know it wasn't a hamstring pull, though.

It's quit hurting, but I still limp out of habit.  But then, I *always* limp out of habit; goes back to when I twisted my knee in Phys Ed class when I was a high-school freshman, and it took so long to heal up that I stressed out the other knee, so I was limping on one leg or the other for months.  It didn't help that I was young enough to think that if a body part hurts, you must not in any way shape or form use it, and if a leg hurts, you must limp.

When I was debating whether to sew or to read another chapter of "Bookworm:  Full Circle" I noticed that the sky, lake, and wind said that the rain promised for today would come Real Soon Now (it seems to have missed us; the sun is out now.), so I went out and dug up the winter onions instead.  Then I pulled as much grass as I could, pushed the cultivator through the now-empty row, and raked more grass out.  But further preparation of seed bed was precisely what my sore arm does not want to do, so I cleaned the onions — and made rather a mess on the lawn.  (I brought the multiplier clump in, lest rain start it sprouting before it is planted.)

I got about ten ounces of onions, which I must use up Real Soon.  So at ten o'clock, when I wanted a little onion on my fourth-meal cheese (with one very thin slice of chicken breast) sandwich, I cut about half of one of the little bulbs into very thin slices.

Whooo!!  I heartily recommend these onions to anyone who thinks jalapeños aren't hot enough.

Perhaps they will cool off a bit if I fry them.

And I can smell my own breath.  I'd forgotten onions could do that.

 

30 July 2015

The onions lose their sting completely when cooked, but remain very oniony.

I think I've discovered something:  I cut a couple of new potatoes into bite-size chunks — that was in quarters for the smaller one and eighths for the larger — put them into a mug, peeled a clove of garlic, sliced the smallest bulb of winter onion, topped the mug with a pat of butter, and zapped on "potato 1".  Stir to distribute the butter, wait one minute.

I'm definitely going to do that again.  Maybe two cloves of garlic and a bigger onion.

I put everything back into the backpack this morning.  Well, a few items are *on* the backpack.  That doesn't mean I'm ready for the next gig; I need to stamp more designs and test the chenille needles I bought in Nappanee to make sure they aren't too coarse, and I want to make some new designs and half-work an example.  I can combine making an example with testing the chenille needles.

I noticed today that the embroidery hoops hanging on the roll-of-paper brackets included a small one suitable for the embroidery class, so now I have four.  I still plan to buy a plastic one at Lowery's.

I also planted the multipliers today.  I'm holding off on planting garlic until the leeks vacate the space.

I renewed the Threads sewing book, but still haven't read it.

We now have two gigs of storage at Peakey.  I must get around to freshening all my backups, now that I don't have to worry about crowding.

 

31 July 2015

I bought two more thimbles for the embroidery class, an antique tatting shuttle (all three for ten cents), a dressmaker's ham large than my old one, in the original unopened package (fifty cents) and a point-presser/clapper, original box, but it's been opened (two dollars).

At another garage sale I spent five dollars on an iron, then noticed when I unloaded the bike that it had steam holes.  I'd wondered what the threaded nipple was for!  Dave found several pictures of that model, some with the plastic water tank.  Prices ranged from one dollar to twenty.

I got a *much* better bargain at the first garage sale.

After my nap today I suited up and rode to Pierceton for the Pierceton Days festival.  The festival seemed to consist entirely of food vendors and carnival rides, and one lonely vestige of the Farmer's Market that meets at that park every Friday.  But while I was there, they shut off a section of SR 13 and filled it up with antique cars.  After I was done with the festival, I rode to the Dollar General and back, passing a rather massive construction project on the way.  The boulevard entrance made it look like a shopping mall, but a mall that big couldn't possibly be built in Pierceton.

I vaguely recall hearing about something important going up in Pierceton, but can't remember what.

I wanted to come back by Wooster Road, in order to buy bread at Aunt Millie's, but forgot about Van Ness Road, so I went back on Pierceton Road until the first right turn and took Washington into Wooster.

I didn't bother to stop at Aunt Millie's; even if they don't close at five, as I think they do, they must be closed by six, and it was pushing seven.

(Just DuckDucked:  Aunt Millie closed at 5:30.)

It was just seven when I got to Aldi, where I bought milk, sausage, sliced swiss cheese, and chimichangas, then sat for a while.

I felt that I was operating with ability impaired even though I'd been on the road for less than four hours.  But it isn't far to home from there.

Didn't feel a single twinge from the ribs during the tour, but my left arm felt tired between Wooster and Aldi.  When Dave came in to check my blood pressure before going to bed, I reached for the pressure machine with my left hand and it hardly hurt at all.

Coming home so tired, I've been in and out of bed several times; it's kind of amusing:  I approach the bed, screw up my face — and getting into it doesn't hurt much.  I wonder how long I'll keep flinching?

I should mail this tonight, but I think I'd rather go to bed.

 

1 August 2015

Well delaying sending allows me to say I didn't flinch at nap time.  I don't remember going to bed last night.

Went to the farmers' markets, bought a cabbage and half a dozen ears of corn, forgot to serve corn for supper and had hot dogs instead.

I noticed the sore ribs, but they are definitely getting better.  The bruise on the back of my leg is less than half what it was; I wish I'd seen it when it was fresh.

Al has lost interest in the chair cushions.

The swelling on Dave's eye has gone down, but he still has a pink spot.  The stitches come out on Tuesday.

When I was sorting the Weekend Times Union, I noticed a Walmart ad offering secretary chairs for twenty dollars.  Instead of futily searching for chairs that are made properly, I should buy a disposable chair!