Melted four ounces of chocolate and half a stick of butter. Planning to make half a recipe of Brownies Cockaigne.
Sewed two inches of hem on my new bra. I always seem to stall when it's time to heat up the iron.
There was some fuss going on down at the park; I changed into my good pants because it was quicker than moving all the stuff in my pockets, but by the time I got down there whatever event it was had finished packing up and had gone home. Then says I, I'm on my flatfoot and my debit card is in my pocket — why not go on to the Trailhouse and buy that rack I've been looking at. So I did. While walking back, I looked to see whether Cerulean Garden was open. The garden was full of people; my first thought was that it was in connection with the event — there is frequently a post-event party at the Cerulean Garden — but when I got to the other side there was a sign saying it was a club meeting.
I'll bet the Garden is open next weekend: it's tourist season.
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I have a fine view of the flowering crab apple from my sewing-room window, and the near-setting sun lights it up just right.
I baked a cake after walking to the Trailhouse and riding my Trek Pure back. I'm quite pleased with the new owners' service.
It isn't the best cake I've ever made; I forgot to put the eggs out to get warm this morning, and when I put stuff away, I found an un-opened bottle of vanilla. But with four ounces of chocolate, the bigger half of a stick of butter, a cup of sugar, and only half a cup of flour, it can't come out inedible.
It being Dave's birthday, I washed the dishes and he rinsed.
We went out for his birthday dinner at the Olive Barn yesterday, and took a lap around First Friday. Bands all over the place, and at least one choir.
I didn't remember that this is opening day for the Farmers' Market until I heard someone on the scanner saying that Center Street was open again. And a thunderstorm is predicted for next Saturday. But that is on the edge of the prediction; it could come early or late.
I get a turn every time I see "chance of snow" on the chart. It's in the explanation of the symbols, but the corner of my eye doesn't know that.
One of the Joe Rickets strawberries started blooming a few days ago. Though a lot of the plants made it through the winter, it appears that only one feels up to bearing fruit. I intend to put the remaining duck mulch on the bed once the fruit is set, to encourage the other plants to make lots of leaves in midsummer, but I suspect that what the strawberry bed needs is to be started over in fresh soil.
The thyme and winter savory in that bed are producing, and there's signs of life in the lavender, but the hot spicy oregano appears to be dead, and there's no sign of the two parsley plants. There's a sprig of parsley in the other raised bed; I don't recall growing parsley there.
Picked the asparagus tonight — a couple of days too late. Asparagus shortcake for breakfast! I'll have to reconstitute some potato flakes or serve it on a bagel, though. I *meant* to buy bread today, along with cat litter and a bunch of other stuff I get out Sprawlmart way, but it was pouring down rain, so I washed clothes instead.
The laundry is on racks in the parlor, except for Dave's socks and the stuff I dry on hangers.
Very light wind in the evening, so I started a fire even though there were almost no sticks to put on it.
Quite a while after Dave got up, I woke up saying "OW! OW! OW! — and it's raining!"
But both my back ache and the rain had slacked off by the time I finished breakfast (rice cakes with sliced asparagus stem in them). Dave had run off in the car to get shots and buy milk, but he was home before I was ready to leave.
I hit Staples, Big R, and Aldi. Since Dave had bought two loaves of sourdough bread and I was tired, I skipped Aunt Millie. Didn't get to bed until three o'clock, and slept until it was nearly too late to bake the chicken cordon bleu that I'd bought for supper. Served it about ten minutes late.
It was delicious with boiled asparagus. I brought a cup of water and a pinch of salt to a boil, dropped in the asparagus, covered it tightly, and turned off the heat. This was five minutes before the chicken came out of the oven, and was just right.
I cut the tip ends of the asparagus to fit the width of my saucepan, and reserved the stems to make gravy for breakfast. Dave bought some more of that excellent cooked ham, so I'm going to put that in instead of boiled eggs.
And we'll eat it on sourdough bread.
I'd heard that Staples sells disposable fountain pens, and wanted to see what they looked like — but since I didn't know what they looked like, it was impossible to spot them among the hundreds of writing implements. I did find a pencil sharpener to replace the one that wore out a week or two ago. It cost twice as much as the one I really wanted, but will do until I find a pocket-sized one. This one has two pencil sharpeners in it (one for regular pencils and one for kindergarten pencils), and a huge shavings box. I've seen smaller cell phones.
A thread on a mailing list mentioned Uline, and I went to their Web site to see whether they still didn't have suit boxes. I think I've gone past wanting them, but I'm still curious. So I looked around a bit, then typed "suit" into the search box. "suitcase boxes" was on the drop-down list. Aha! That's it!
It was a box for shipping suitcases.
Further search turned up a "suit box" — a four-hanger, half-height wardrobe box.
There are crabapple petals on the walk, and the display is faded — partly because the pink is diluted with green.
The maple leaves have changed from red to brown. Last time I looked, the redbuds were still going strong. I did get out to Dane Millers field to look at the redbud-lined drive leading to it.
The trouble with taking the doormat outside and beating it is that when I come back in, I have to wipe my feet.
The descendants of the strawberry plant I bought at Big R are in bloom, despite being strangled among weeds in the herb bed. I exterminated the original planting because the deer and the coons wouldn't let me have any of the fruit, but some runners escaped into the bed surrounding the raised bed.
Today I noticed that two more Joe Rickets berries were in bloom; looked closer, and saw that many of the plants had flower buds and the first plant to bloom had set fruit. Also noticed that a runner has established itself in the mint-and-thyme bed. I'd been encouraging runners to escape on the lawn side of the raised bed, but none of those that touched down lived very long.
I pushed the cultivator around the garden, then changed the blade and made a furrow for Dave to plant his carrots in. Harvested three scallions and one of last-year's carrots in the process. The carrot was tough and bitter, so I think I should dig up the rest and throw them on the compost heap.
The onion sets I bought at Open Air on Lake Street are up, but there is no sign of the potatoes yet. At least the sets are still where I put them; we didn't get much harvest the year something kept digging them up and throwing them around the garden.
Yum! I spread garlic butter on a slice of the bread I made out of yesterday's left-over pizza dough, then topped it with slices of avocado.
Left-over venison loaf for supper tonight, with instant mashed potatoes, fresh mushrooms fried in butter in lieu of gravy, and poached asparagus. Also a scallion.
Our snowball bush has light-green snowballs all over it.
I didn't remember that I wanted to go to the farmers' markets today until I got home from Owen's about the time the markets close. In such humid weather, I don't think I'd have enjoyed a tour d'Warsaw anyhow.
Took a long time to get ready. I'd worn a hole through the front of my older linen jersey the last time I wore it, and deemed it not worth mending, but I thought the newer one too sheer to wear today, so I hunted through my "interfacings and iron-ons" box, tore a rectangle of flimsy interfacing, and ironed it behind the hole so it wouldn't catch on something and tear. That interfacing doesn't stand up to washing — I keep it for repairing patterns — but the jersey will shred before it peels off. And I pressed it extra well, then sprayed the press cloth until it was soggy and ironed it dry.
While the iron was hot, I pressed the bias facings on the armholes of the bra I'm making.
OK, shirt and sweat pants laid out, I need to wear shoes. I've been going barefoot at least two days and there was a *lot* of cottonwood gunk on my feet. Got into the shower, ran water on them, scrubbed each one with a brush twice, then rubbed and rubbed and rubbed with a well-lathered plastic pumice. Ah, well, at least it won't come off on my socks.
Seemed as though I was in and out of the house twenty times getting the bike ready to roll, then I rolled off without my helmet and had to come back. I remember when I could lean my bike against the front bumper of the car when I had to go back into the garage — how long has it been since cars had bumpers?
Stopped in the middle of the process to feed Spot a peanut. Twice; he can't see a peanut if you set it down gently, you have to throw it. A squirrel's ordinary prey doesn't move; I wonder how he came by cat-like vision. (But he does field fairly well.)
It was half-past ten before I rolled: another reason to give the markets a miss.
About five years ago, I realized that the mystery key on my key ring was probably a key to the New Salem fire house. Today I finally got around to taking it off. After carefully ascertaining that it wouldn't open the front door, and that the identical-looking key would.
We spent Mother's Day at Alice's house, eating altogether too much. Each person brought enough to feed the whole crowd. I was told to bring nothing, but did bring a small plate of raw vegetables. I brought home a quart container of casseroles.
Also a huge container of organic no-salt seasoning that Sara Lee gave me for my birthday. I filled a spice bottle I found in the empty-jars cupboard and put the rest into the freezer.
When a cold draft comes in every time one opens a door, it's a lot easier to keep the cat from escaping.
I didn't realize that I was out of fish-oil capsules when I went to Aldi, and my trip to Owen's last Saturday didn't aggravate my back, so I'm going to venture a Sprawlmart tour today.
Spot was in the garage the last time I looked. Our outdoor pet is allowed to come into the garage, and our indoor pet is allowed to go out into the garage, but I don't think there is any risk of them getting locked in together: we don't let Al out until the door is shut, the switch to shut the door is in the garage, and Spot quickly gets outside the door when he sees a human.
And I don't think Al could catch him anyway — Spot has experience with predators who know what they are doing.
I did go on the Sprawlmart Tour yesterday. When I reached into my pocket to see whether there was anything on my list that I could get at a dollar store, I suddenly remembered a very clear picture of my shopping list still in my dresser drawer. But when I got home, the only things on it that I can get at Aldi were fish oil and butter, and I remembered both of those.
And I also remembered the things that might conceivably be at a dollar store, but none of them were in this one.
I saw a set of nested food-storage bowls at K-Mart. The second-largest is half a gallon; I thought I could set it into the largest, fill the space between them with water, freeze it, and use it to serve potato salad — but passed it up in hope of finding something better before race day.
I had Dave take a closeup of my face. Since I can't wash the blood off until tomorrow, the biopsies look pretty bad, but what bothers me most in the picture is that my lentigo is on the wrong side.
Then clicking on "full size" and getting a screen-wide view of my nose is pretty sickening. I've got to get a complexion brush.
Now I've kept my New Year's resolution to drive to Fort Wayne on my own before November. I stopped by Gordon's Food Service on the way back from the dermatologist, then stayed on Washington Center Road until it blended back into 30 at Columbia City. The GPS wanted me to turn left at every intersection.
Washington Center (which we deduce used to be 30) isn't a very good road. As soon as you get past the dense traffic and stop lights, you are on narrow "this road isn't important any more" pavement. A lot like Old 30 east of Warsaw, in fact. It also isn't nearly as straight as the map implies.
Seemed to be more semis on 30 than anything else. I got trapped in a procession a couple of times; I imagine the truck drivers were as glad to see the amateur driver get out of their pace line as I was to get out. I wonder whether truckers can recognize cars driven by other professional drivers? Probably; I can spot a cyclist among the bike riders.
Just before sunset yesterday evening, I went for a flatfoot spin around the neighborhood, going out to Miller's field (not to be confused with Miller Field) to see the campground for Fat and Skinny, then I took a loop around the new house going up on Park Avenue.
When the floor went in over the garage/basement, they left a hole in the southeast corner about right for a staircase, then they filled it in with a floor a few inches lower than the main floor. ? A mud room? Now that the walls are up, I can see that it's a porch. But they haven't extended the roof over it, not even enough to keep the rain off while you are fumbling for your keys. Perhaps a little separate roof, like the one we had over the front door in New Salem, will go on later.
At least it's sheltered from the prevailing wind.
I don't feel like riding today, but Weather Underground says it's all right as long as I get back before three in the afternoon. Sweat pants will be a bit warm, but the linen knickers would be too cool; better too warm than too cold, below the waist.
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Got home twenty or thirty minutes before deadline; I could have stayed out until four. It was raining when I left the library at two, and I got enough drops on me to mess up my glasses; stopped on McKinley street to clean them. I'm glad I put a fresh spectacle-cleaning rag in my pocket this morning!
Came back all sweaty, but I hadn't been sweating much: none of it evaporated.
I didn't get off until 11:50. The last two vehicles were leaving the fairgrounds farmer's market when I passed, and I stopped at Lowery's to buy elastic and thread, and at other places to look around, so I was greatly surprised to find Center Street still blocked off when I got there. Only half the vendors had left, and I bought a rhubarb plant just before it would have been packed back into the truck. It was nearly one when I left the market, and the street was still blocked when I passed by on my way from the book shop to the library.
I didn't see much of Fat & Skinny. Hope the festival wasn't dampened too much.
Tour d'Warsaw today. For the first time in a long time I had lunch at the Chinatown Express on Detroit, across from Center Lake Park. Good food cheap, and quick service. The spirit of the place might be summed up in the hot tea: it was Lipton, but it was brewed properly and served in a pot that kept it hot until I'd drunk the whole quart. (I *think* it's worn off; I didn't notice missing my nap today!)
I ordered fried dumplings, then the waitress brought the woman at the next table a bowl of hot-and-sour soup. I should have read the paper menu instead of picking something from the sign! And it looked like real hot-and-sour-soup, too.
I should have saved a couple of the dumplings for later.
The construction where Avila burned down is complete, and the cigarette store already has a sign up. Alas, the two stores where Avila was have "for rent" signs.
More stuff has been added to the "Everything Outdoors" display. The thrift shop is still for rent. I bought a pot of leeks at Open Air Nursery. From one of the greenhouses; only landscape plants are actually in the open air. I think; I didn't open that door.
I set the pot of leeks in the flower bed next to the rhubarb I still haven't planted. Despite my aversion to perennials in the garden, I think I'll put the rhubarb smack dab in the center. I'm hoping to get started on levelling the railroad ties tomorrow, so I'll know how much dirt to pile up when I plant it. I'm inclined to just knock it out of the pot, set it on the surface, and pile the now-composted stump grindings around it. (The un-ground roots *still* haven't given up trying to grow new sycamore trees, despite being regularly mowed.)
I looked for a complexion brush in several places; they seem to have gone out of style. I looked on Froogle to verify that they still exist; most of the offerings bragged about wooden handles and boar-bristle bristles, but I saw at least one all-plastic brush.
But when passing the razors on my way to cosmetics in one of the stores, I remembered that I have a shaving brush, left over from when I shaved my legs. (I didn't use it very many times; even on my beard, working up a lather with my bare hands works better.)
A shaving brush isn't meant to be used three times a day; it doesn't have time to dry out properly. But it won't be hanging around damp much longer: this evening, I brushed off the scab on my forehead. Didn't feel it; just noticed a fleck on the soap while lathering up for the next patch.
A brush is both more thorough and less painful than a washrag.
The lentigo scab is still firmly attached; I've started applying sunscreen anyway; I'm tired of putting on a bandaid when I go outside. I scrape it off the stick with my finger and pat it on extra thick.
I don't worry much about the quality of sunscreen on my forehead; my hat covers the pink spot — and probably rubs off whatever I put on it.
I'm going all medieval and typing "hwat" for "what" again. I don't see why we transposed those two letters in the first place, but now that we've written "what" for centuries, "hwat" looks funny.
The garden was too wet to work yesterday morning, but in the afternoon and evening I pushed the cultivator around, planted the rhubarb, dug out the overwintered carrots and put them on the compost heap, and put the leeks I bought at Open Air Nursery in the resulting trench. I covered them with dirt from underneath the stump-grinding mulch.
Since I like Queen Anne's Lace, I set the carrots down carefully and kept as much dirt on the roots as would stick.
The mystery mint is coming up and should soon camouflage the compost heap. This is an herbaceous perennial weed that, despite being clearly a member of the mint family, has no taste or smell whatsoever. The flowers are like tiny cone flowers, and look like clover from a distance. I rather like it, and wish there were some way to find out what it's called. The Extension agent was as baffled as I am.
There is one more row I could plant something in, but I don't think I'll bother. It's next to the row of potatoes, so I can say I left extra space for them.
Making potato salad this afternoon. I bought russets, thinking that I would bake them and substitute sour cream for mayo, but now that it's time, I don't feel like it, and will do my usual zapped potatoes.
And it turned out really good. I brought less than half of it home, on a day when there were devilled eggs left over.
I regretted, on the way home, that I hadn't snitched some pork and salad.
I said at the party that I would transcribe the ingredients list on the organic no-salt seasoning that Sara Lee gave me: organic onion, organic garlic, organic carrot, organic black pepper, red bell peppers, organic tomato granules, organic orange peel, organic parsley, organic bay leaves, organic thyme, organic basil, organic celery, organic lemon peel, organic oregano, organic savory, organic mustard seed, organic cumin, organic marjoram, organic coriander, organic cayenne pepper, citric acid, and organic rosemary.
I have a small tub in which I bought, according to the nutrition label, seven tablespoons of garlic butter. (The net weight label is obscured.) I put some whole-milk yogurt in it and added a healthy dash of no-salt seasoning and about a teaspoon of finely-chopped onion. It made a great veggie dip.
It was, of course, much better with a wee little pinch of salt.
Early in the evening yesterday I remembered that I'd skipped my noon face-wash, went to the sink and lathered up with my fingers — and that scab *finally* came off. I still feel a bump there; I'll have to have Dave take another picture so I can look at it with my glasses on.
With some trepidation, I washed the hat I bought at the Tomato Festival a year or two ago. I was afraid the decoration would shrink, and knew the brim would pucker, but the sweatband was disgusting. I couldn't stretch it quite as smooth as it was before, but I don't think anyone will notice — and it's clean.
All is go for taking a long ride tomorrow — but I have no place to go. I've tentatively planned to circumnavigate Center Lake and Pike Lake clockwise: ride the boardwalk to Chinatown Express, order hot-and-sour soup to go, ride to Chinworth Bridge to eat it, wend north through country roads, cross US 30 at Walmart, come back by way of Sprawlmart. Google Maps has gone anti-functional again, but a route that hits some of those points is 20.2 miles, so the distance is about right. I can't enlarge the map to view the details; if I click for full screen, the route disappears, and if I scroll the mouse, it goes all fuzzy.
I guess it's time to knot a string to suit my Moore Map.
I got a good start on cutting out a new cotton jersey today. I use my T-shirt pattern and add pockets. And two straps appliquéd to the back to support the pockets.
According to yesterday's paper, the theme for June's First Friday will be "Lovin' the Lake". After reading the list of entertainers, I think the real theme is "What can we get our hands on?".
Monday or Tuesday, according to Weather Underground, will be a good day to take exercise. Now I need a destination farther than Leesburg, but not so far as Sidney.
After studying the map a while, I think I'll go to Claypool. It's almost as far as Sidney, but I think the roads are flatter.
I also considered Atwood, going out south of the lake and coming back by the Chinworth Trail.
I've learned how to trick Google maps into telling me how far it is between two points, but I don't think I could make it follow the convoluted route I took yesterday.
Somehow it got to be lunchtime and I haven't finished getting up yet.
We had a busy Saturday. Married off Trent and Marissa in the morning, and had a party for assorted birthdays and anniversaries at Linda's in the evening. We got to visit with people we don't see very often.
We don't have another event until the Fourth of July.
I hope I can do my embroidery gig at the Day of Caring in July. (Must get around to writing an E-mail offering to do so.)
I decided to wear my pearls to church today — it was raining cats and dogs, and my only polyester dress is a bit bare around the neck — took the ends of the necklace into the wrong hands and jammed the catch so bad that Dave had to bend it to get it off me, so I can't wear my pearls again until I've had a new catch put on.
There were two maple trees on the lawn of the Sunday Home. Now there is half a maple tree. Part of them landed on a fence, but it was the brushy end and I don't see any damage. It's a pipe fence; if it is bent, theres a chance that it can be bent back. The prevailing wind *should* have brought the trees down on the power lines.
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The only thing in the spring 2015 Imperial Tours catalog that appealed to me was a tour of the Shipshewana flea market on June 17, and I couldn't see driving to Lafayette to ride a bus back. Perhaps I could collect a small group to car pool from here.
I started out to go to Shipshewana by myself one year, but took in Bonneyville Mill and Middlebury on the way, and then it was nap time, so I came home.
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