The July issue was ridiculously long. When I comment out the boring parts this month, I'd better expand my definition of "boring". [The file came out over a thousand lines long, but I lack the time and energy to condense it.]
My little plastic notebook is nearly out of paper, but I found a pocket memo book that could be cut into two pads of the right size. Assembling the tools took longer than doing the job, though it did take more than a dozen strokes of my Exacto knife.
I rode to Mentone and back yesterday: almost thirty-five miles when my previous best was twenty-two. Needless to say, I was walking a lot of hills near the end, even though I took it very easy on myself, and lay down to rest twice: once on a sofa in the Bell Memorial library, with a copy of Indiana Gardening, and again in the graveyard at 100 S and 800 W, contemplating leaves. I don't think that they were maple leaves, but my limited education in tree identification didn't allow me to be sure.
I didn't come home all that beat — after I'd cooled off in the shower — but this morning my back thought that walking long distances to spare my knees hadn't been particularly advisable.
We had corned beef and cabbage today. I forgot to put the spice packet in; I think that next time I'll do that on purpose.
When I went to Walmart in search of their bait-and-switch task chair, I noticed corned beef while hunting for stew beef, and corned beef is so seldom available that I always buy it when it is. But I didn't find anything to slow cook with a slice of fresh tomato on it.
Today's ads included a notice that Carson's is selling dresses. I hope I remember to stop in on my way back from Pierceton Days next Saturday. That will be twenty miles.
Dave ran the sprinkler in the garden today, after noticing that my potatoes had wilted, which reminded me to haul some buckets of water to the raised flower beds and the rhubarb.
Plans were to go to the farmers' markets today, then go to Pierceton Days, and shop in Sprawlmart on the way back, but I'm too exhausted to go anywhere at all.
I just activated the new phone that came yesterday. It would have been easy, but the Web page was broken, so I had to do it by phone, at one point trying to hold three phones in two hands.
As usual, the new interface is just enough like the old one to confuse me.
Plus: the new phone says the numbers as I punch them in.
Minus: when it's plugged in or out or, I presume, finishes charging, it beeps instead of tweedling. The old phone's tweedle was perfect: not the least bit startling even if I'm sitting right next to it, but I can hear it in every room in the house. And I know *what* tweedled; we probably have a dozen gadgets that beep.
Big plus: the time is displayed in numerals big enough that I can read them outdoors. Since my phone is primarily a pocket watch, this is worth all the fuss I'm going to have to go through to re-learn how to use the other functions.
When it arrived and I saw that it was a flip phone, I thought my deep dark-dyed suspicion that they'd deprecated my old phone to make me burn up more minutes was wrong. But it has a camera, and doesn't have a download cable — the only way one can get a picture off the phone is to send it to another phone.
It also has a Web key — prominently displayed where the "message" key belongs. I don't think that "Mobil Web Service" has been activated, but I'll have to be careful not to push it by mistake.
Minus: the plug-in cover is on backward. If you hold the phone the natural way and try to open it, you are picking at the hinge. I suppose I'll grow accustomed to it eventually. I see that that is because the cover has a cork that fits into the plug, which makes it too thick to rotate out of the way; it has to hang over the end of the phone, and even then the plastic is bent. It remains to be seen how this will hold up.
Minus: there is no cover at all for the phone jack. Since I will never use it, I suppose that getting dirt in it won't matter.
Plus: the power connector is different from the data connector on my camera — I've caught myself trying to plug the wrong wire into my camera more than once. Each time, I realized that it was the wrong wire before I realized that it was upside down.
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I came home from the picnic totally spent, and I think I spent more time lying down than I'd spent at the party.
After coming to, I continued reading my phone manual. On page 25, I learn that it *is* a browserphone. There doesn't seem to be any way to turn this "feature" off.
On page 28 we find "8.1.1 Take a Photo, Save or Delete". Paragraph a tells how to get into camera mode, Paragraph b tells which button takes the picture and notes that taking it saves it. There is no paragraph c.
I ain't taking no pictures until I know how to get the rejects off the recording medium, whatever it is. There's been a lot of references to "save to phone" and "save to SIM" and copying and moving from SIM to phone and the other way around, but so far no hint as to what "phone" and "SIM" in this context mean, and no hint as to whether the "captured" photos are in the phone or on the SIM.
I almost-dried a bathmat. I figured I'd let it tumble in the dryer while I loaded the next batch, just long enough to fluff up the pile.
But I dropped beans on my jeans at Saturday's picnic, so there was an eight-pocket pair of jeans in that load. Long before I finished brushing out all eight pockets, I regretted having learned that it's possible to turn a patch pocket inside out. But there was so much lint that I wasn't tempted to skip.
And when I took the bathmat out, it was nearly dry.
Today is our fifty-second anniversary. I said "cards!" and Dave suggested a game of fifty-two pickup, but neither of us can remember where we keep the deck of cards, so we are going to Yamamoto's Steak House for supper.
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Dave had sashimi; I had beef. It was delicious, but we really should have asked for a box a little sooner. I brought home three sushi; all Dave brought home was wasabi, ginger, and shredded carrot.
I noticed "sashimi-grade salmon" on a grocery ad I disposed of this morning.
I got a little gardening done this morning, between rests. I pulled half the weeds in one hill of winter onion, and noticed that it's time to harvest bulbs. But the onions have probably been dry enough to taste soapy and I haven't been cooking much; I'll let them sprout.
Hoed some dirt over a potato that got exposed when I poured a bucket of water on the hill yesterday.
I looked at the rhubarb and wondered what we have in the way of mulch — I wouldn't want to use used cat litter in the herb garden, and new corn cobs would make me think I *had* used used litter.
Then I wandered down to the beach to look at the new cleat on the float of the Piper Cub. The streamlining is pretty subtle; I suspect that the old cleat was aerodynamic too, and we didn't notice.
While down there, I noticed that there was lakeweed washed up thick enough to harvest with my hands, without the pebbles that come along when the Wildmans collect it with rakes, so I took the wheelbarrow down twice with a long rest in between. I thought I had collected enough on the first trip, and hadn't. Collecting weed would have been easier if I'd been smart enough to take off my shoes and socks; the floating weed was much easier to collect than weed that had stranded, but I couldn't reach much of it without getting my feet wet.
The rhubarb looks happier with the little weeds squashed. I expect that it doesn't hurt anything that the lakeweed was still dripping.
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When I called Dave to supper, I found him asleep in bed. Getting an ear cut off takes a lot out of you even without having to drive to Elkhart and back to get it done.
The doctor didn't take much off the ear; Dave says the doctor said that he got all the cancer with the first pass. (In Mohs surgery, thin layers are taken off and analyzed before the next layer is taken off. Minimum removal of healthy tissue, maximum chance of getting all the cancer cells.)
Luckily, I'd planned zap-it-yourself leftovers for supper, so I shoved everything back into the fridge, and when he woke up half an hour later, it took about thirty seconds to set the table up again and pour the milk. Having had a big tenderloin for lunch, Dave had a small salad, some fresh tomato, and the three left-over sushi. He thinks the meat in the sushi was real crab.
The wasabi wasn't as zow! as yesterday, but it was great on my corned beef and cabbage. Dave had some on his sushi too, but there was a little left, so I put it into the horsey sauce to reduce outgassing, or at least capture some of the fumes.
This morning I leafed through the book of inspirational thoughts that Dave brought back from his trip to the dermatologist yesterday. One was a Chinese proverb saying "Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still." I do fear standing still — it sets off the arthritis in my sacroiliac joint.
A recent Carson's ad included a clearance on dresses, which strongly implies that they sell dresses, so I clipped it out, and yesterday I made a Sprawlmart tour. Conveniently, Carsons is the very first store I come to — less conveniently, the door on that side is marked "emergency exit only", so I had to go back into the road and go around several other stores to get in. And the first door on that side was in full sun. There was a little triangle of shade from a decorative jog in the wall, but when I put the bike in it my cooler stuck out into the sun, so I went on to the next door, which has an awning and doesn't face east.
Carson's is a big place, and "dresses" isn't one of their sorting criteria. I found a concentration of dresses in one of the "yellow dot" areas, and presume that these were the dresses being advertised. They seemed to come in two classes: evening gowns, and dresses made of hot fabrics with huge low necks and practically no sleeves. I never tried anything on.
There was one dress made of a thick, warm fabric with a high neck and long sleeves. It was quite attractive, if one can convince oneself that a sparkling brass parka zipper down the front is dressy, but it was several sizes too small for me.
BUT while poking around among the other items in the yellow-dot area I found a pair of cotton pedal pushers, marked down from $42.00 to $30.99, and they fit! I thought thirty-one dollars for a pair of muslin britches was rather high, but I'm always a few years behind in adjusting to inflation and I've been hunting all summer without finding *anything* not made of polyester. I threw them into the cart.
They rang up at $13.26. It seems that the price marked on a yellow dot is twice the price they are selling at, and the receipt says I had a "purchase coupon" for 20% off — that baffles me; perhaps it means "senior discount"? — and that took off another $3.10. Plus $0.87 tax, if you're adding it up. (I didn't check the math.)
Yesterday I cut all the oregano (unless it's marjoram) down to the ground, not so easy as it sounds because there were strawberries mixed in. Then I made a start at cutting back the chocolate mint, and may have taken a sprig of the marjoram (unless it's oregano) on the other side. Pulled a lot of weeds in the process, but had to cut all the trees. Now the south side of the herb bed around the southern raised bed looks much better. Also whacked the ripe seed head off the rue plant and threw it down next to the tansy, and that made a considerable difference in the appearance of the west side.
Then I cut the thyme and winter savory in the northern raised bed back to nothing, thinking that this would slow their effort to take over the Joe Rickets strawberry bed. I've been hacking at the winter savory from the south side for quite a while, but found that it went much faster when I started at the north. Also helped that both plants had gone to seed, so I had no qualms about throwing the prunings down for mulch.
The pruning revealed that one of the branches of the winter savory had taken root. This morning I dug the new plant up and put it in the fern bed — the height of winter savory is about right for a foundation planting. Perhaps I should have put it next to the wall, instead of near the front of the bed. I've selected a spot near the wall to move the mother plant to once the offshoot shows that it has taken root.
Since there is probably seed in the prunings, I used them to mulch a strip where I'd like to get thyme started.
And I think that that will be all the gardening for today; it's hot out there. I wonder whether I can remember what I was doing with the skirt gores on the card table?
One rain barrel is empty, and the other has only a bucketful. The raised flower beds will have to start making do with hose water soon.
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We got enough rain to fill the rain barrels while I was napping. Ruined the stale coco-puffs I put out for the squirrels; I'll have to hose them off the patio tomorrow. [A dog cleaned them up during the night.]
Still don't know what I'm doing with the black skirt, but I shortened my floral-basket gown three inches, which makes it look a lot better. Also makes it safer to climb steps in!
I never honestly woke up from my nap today, which leaves me puzzled. I wasn't out all that long, I never worked hard while I was out there, and I drank plenty of water and switchel. The temperature was high enough that I didn't mind getting rained on, but not nearly as high as it's been. I'd have been *delighted* to get rained on during most of this summer's rides.
Didn't like getting rain on my saddle much, but I had a table napkin in my back pocket.
My temperature was ninety-nine yesterday evening, but I haven't been sneezing or snorting or anything.
I did over-eat at lunch; I should have put half my egg foo yung into the bag with my fried rice, and it was very greasy, but surely I'd gotten over that after sleeping for two hours.
When I went into the Chinatown Express for lunch, I parked my bike under an eave and left my do rag and my sweaty gloves on my brake cables to air. That didn't work as intended.
When I came out, it had started to rain, and the eave was high enough and narrow enough that nothing below head height was protected. So I put on a damp hat and wet gloves, dried my saddle with the napkin in my back pocket and pedalled off.
My notes for 10 August, the day I bought garden pants at Carson's, are still in my notebook. They don't say anything except that I really, really miss the bench that Aldi used to have out front.
Even more alarming: I didn't eat my ten-O'clock meal last night, and didn't miss it, I ate my fried-rice cakes at breakfast only because I'd gone to the trouble of frying them, and I thought cream cheese on a cracker was ample for lunch.
But my temperature is down to 97.5F, and I'm starting to check on whether it's time to put the stew on the table for supper.
I prepared a stew in the rice-cooker pan yesterday evening, and took it out of the fridge and turned it on before breakfast this morning. I let it run on "cook" long enough to get hot before setting it on "warm", to reduce the time spent at incubate.
The previous stew made this way was very good; I hope we've got a repeat.
On the one hand, I woke up completely this morning, and enjoyed making fresh-corn cakes for breakfast, but by noon I was feeling draggy again and went to bed without lunch, not even cream cheese on a cracker.
But that's better than yesterday, and at suppertime I had a good appetite for sliders on slimwiches with a slice of big juicy tomato and a slice of a big onion.
Whatever I've got, I hope I'm over it in time for my tooth-cleaning the day after tomorrow. Not to mention the reunion on Saturday.
Weather Underground predicts fairly-decent weather up until five o'clock on Wednesday. It also says that the rain may resume making up for lost time on Saturday, but by then we will be in Frankfort.
Whatever I had, I've still got it. I'm beginning to wish I'd get frankly sick so I could get over it.
I drove to Owen's and stocked up on seltzer this morning. They not only had it, they had four different flavors (including "plain" as a flavor). But I almost bought a carton of "beverage" by mistake; it was disappointing to realize that they didn't have peach seltzer after all.
I bought two lemon-lime and two plain to make up six cartons, because they had a substantial discount on multiples of three. The other two flavors were "lemon" and "blackberry citrus".
I've laid out my clothes and prepared my bike for tomorrow's trip to the dentist: I need to roll out at 9:30 to get to a 10:15 appointment with reasonable clearance. I was thinking "mustn't skimp on breakfast!", but that's for the appointment in September. I'm only getting them cleaned and inspected this trip, so I can have lunch tomorrow.
I packed a book instead of the mittens that need darning because I've been feeling so stupid. My best hours are in the morning, and I'm not planning to buy anything on the way back, so I considered packing both, but I'm too draggy now to sort my tangled heap of yarns, particularly when I'm not sure I've even got black persian.
Weather Underground still says that I have a reasonable chance of getting there dry. And despite rising sharply, the temperature won't hit seventy-eight until noon.
Maybe if I put her on the big ring and try to cut some time off the trip, I can blow the carbon out of my carburetor. Heaven knows napping hasn't helped.
My stomach felt a little off, so I rode easy — but still cut two minutes off my usual time. Lovely day for a ride, but I started sweating as soon as I got inside, and took a while to stop. After filling out a form while leaning on a counter, I had to mop the counter.
Dr. Hollar says that my temporary bridge is holding up better than expected — and I think that I've gotten over the draggies.
I wimped out and bought pre-cooked bacon to serve with lettuce and tomato tonight. Also picked up a few other things when I stopped at Marsh on the way home.
I was DuckDucking the tomato festival, and found a hint that the little diner I used to like has re-opened under the name "Filling Station Cafe". I must go south of town and check that out — though I expect to arrive at the tomato festival after lunch and a nap. I'll have to check the schedule of events, but I think that it ends at four. If I get there by two, I should have plenty of time to see the festival before I look around the town.
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The bacon had practically no flavor. The next time I want a slice, I'll warm it up in bacon grease. I still have some in a six-inch skillet in the fridge.
When I prepared to take my suppertime pills, I found that I'd forgotten to take my breakfast pills. That explains the uneasy stomach: I'm addicted to omeprazole.
I *think* I'm over the draggies. About time; it's been more than half a week.
Got to counting on my fingers: if I want devilled eggs on Saturday, I should make them on Thursday because we will be travelling on Friday, which means that I should lay the eggs out to get warm on Wednesday night — THIS IS WEDNESDAY!
Packing: I have realized that "pill pouch" size ziplock bags are perfect for corralling hairpins and other small objects in my grooming kit. Pity the makers saw fit to cover one side with enough white ink to hide the contents, but break it up enough that there isn't a patch big enough to write a label. But one can look through the other side — and since I know what I put into them, seeing a corner is enough to tell me what it is.
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I had no interest in my supper, but that probably had more to do with quality control while making devilled eggs than with my recent malaise.
I thought I'd put in way too much horseradish, but you can't taste it in the finished product. The eggs are definitely too salty, but that always chills out — I think the whites suck salt out of the filling.
About eight o'clock, I ate a hot dog that had been in a warm skillet since five o'clock. It was much improved by cooking down; I didn't put anything on it but a slice of bread and a dash of chopped onion.
Since we aren't leaving until after the mail comes — Dave is expecting a package that shouldn't lie on the porch for three days — I've left ironing the shirt I intend to wear for tomorrow.
I'm really, really short on halfway-decent T-shirts. Everything is either shabby or sleazy.
I looked at the white T-shirt I intended to iron, reflected that they are going to be popping pictures all over the place, and put my black T-shirt on the pile of stuff to be hung in the car. It photographs much better than any of my other shirts, and I don't expect to be outside during the party.
Yesterday I considered putting my bottle of plumeria lotion into my bag, then verified that Dave was taking lotion that I can rub on my feet before putting on my socks — but I didn't put any socks into my bag. I took care of that this morning, and took out the shorts I put in yesterday.
A few weeks ago Dave cleared the shower-room counter off so that he could work on the sink, and when putting stuff back I noticed a bottle of body lotion that has been sitting there for years because it's really creme sachet — you can't cover more than half a square inch of skin with it and remain socially acceptable.
I decided that it was time it was used up, and started putting it on my corns and calluses instead of Eucerin. With the result that I dropped my shirt on my dirty socks one night, and when I picked it up in the morning, it reeked of perfume.
And I sniffed traces of perfume in the clean socks I packed for the trip.
Home again, home again, jiggety jog. Oops, I meant to turn off my computers before leaving, since they don't do anything when I'm not using them.
Al says that forgetting to give him an extra treat just before leaving was a much bigger mistake. He has also informed Dave that he has three days of lap-sitting coming, but Dave got up pretty soon. And I'm waiting for regular treat time. But I warmed up and ate the lunch that I abandoned when Owen's said that my prescriptions were ready.
I forgot that La Quinta has a hot tub. Oh, well, I don't own a bathing suit anyway.
I logged into Live Journal and typed some stuff in "private" entries; in due course I'll copy and paste it into this file — and promptly comment it out; the verbiage is pretty raw.
Right now, it's nap time. I'll unpack later.
Wake-up call from the dentist at half-past eight: he'd had a cancellation, so now I have a firmer temporary bridge and a whole bunch of impressions have been sent to the lab that will make my permanent bridge.
When taking the old temporary out, Dr. Hollar remarked that it was about time: it was pretty far gone.
On the way back, I met a bobtail semi-tractor, reflected that I'd seen a lot of those in the last few days, and wondered what the occasion was.
A moment later: I've been out in the car a lot in the last few days. When I travel by bike, I avoid the sort of road a semi driver would prefer.
Got back in time to do the wash on schedule. Well, a *little* late; I usually fill the washer while Roomba is working, and it was finished before I'd sorted the clothes.
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Did you know that if you leave Friday's paper in the box until Sunday evening, it tends to remember that it was rolled up tight with a rubber band around it?
After we got back yesterday, Dave set out to wipe the dirty windshield on the car and ended up taking everything out of the car for a thorough cleaning. I neatened up the emergency blankets, with the wool one underneath out of the sun. I also relieved the door pocket of duplicate maps and directions to events as far back as 2012. I left the map of Shipshewana in; I still hope to go there some day.
About to put the grocery bags back, I reflected that it would be laundry day before I went shopping again and threw them into the wash. I just now took them off the line and put them back into the car.
I'm quite sure we have more than four.
(I found a fifth bag in the garage, but I think that we have six.)
These are the same bags that were several years old when we moved in 2001. I wish I knew who made them!
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(organ recital; skip to next dashed line)
I gave some of the guys at the reunion a very garbled explanation of why I'm walker shopping.
Forty or fifty years ago I slipped in a puddle of oil and gave my left hip a mighty thump. That never healed completely, but the symptoms were subtle and intermittent, and I never paid attention. But for the last year or two, my backaches have always started in the same exact spot.
Then on the Monday before last Easter I got exhausted preparing a meal at the church; my back got so sore while I was sorting broccoli that I had to move the job to a table and sit down. On the way out the door, I remembered that I'd meant to go up to Club 56 and lie down for five minutes, but I was too tired to retrace my steps.
Tuesday, I had a backache. I didn't say anything in my diary on Wednesday. Thursday morning, while dressing to go to Dr. Ashton's to get the stitches off my nose, I sat down to put on my shoes and couldn't get up again. Dave brought me the walker, and I managed to keep the appointment, but really, really regretted that we haven't gotten around to getting a handicap card yet. Friday, I sprained my arm trying to get out of bed and Dave called Dr. Darr and hauled me in.
I pointed, Dr. Darr showed me the sacroilliac joint in an anatomy book, and prescribed six days of corticosteroids and an X-ray. The steroids fixed the hip right up; the arm took longer, partly because it took me *weeks* to realize that reaching up to the handlebars on the "comfort bike" I use for a wheelchair was aggravating it.
The X-rays showed "arthritic changes" in the offending joint.
But the flimsy aluminum walker creaked and groaned and threatened to collapse when I asked it to support me, rather than just keep my balance. If this happens again, I want something *sturdy* in the closet.
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I'm rather pleased that with all that going on, when I don't have a backache, I still find washing my feet in the sink easier than putting the shower chair in the bathtub.
I wonder whether a rollator would be good for walking on ice?
It's hard to believe that walkers didn't appear until the very late nineteen-forties. But then, it would be hard to make one without cheap aluminum.
_Heidi_ would have had a very different plot if the crippled girl had had a walker — or even a wheelchair she could push herself.
This morning, I found my slopping-around knife on the floor of the closet, before I'd had leisure to get exercised because it wasn't in the pocket of my slopping-around pants. It cost only a dollar, but the store where I bought it moved to Elkhart.
It's an intended-to-be-disposable knife with a concave-curved blade that's notched into a crude saw for part of the edge. Exceeding awkward for cutting up apples and so forth, but perfect when I'm walking around the yard and see a weed I can't pull.
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I scored eight in Hexavirus! Past time I got to work.
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So I pushed the Culta-Eze around the garden and pulled some of the grass out of the winter onions. The wire sticking up out of the ground called itself to my attention again, and I made yet another attempt to pull it out, then fetched the spading fork and got serious. Well over half its length was buried, but I eventually got to the bottom of it. It's about the weight of coat-hanger wire, but there are two deliberate bends in it that are nothing like anything ever found in a coat hanger. Most likely it was in one of the loads of debris that Brent dumped on the garden a couple of years ago, but how did it end up perfectly vertical? And how did it stay hidden until now?
I pruned the marjoram, or maybe it's oregano. That didn't take long because all I wanted was to get the flowers off so it wouldn't go to seed and give me volunteers that look like oregano but have no flavor.
Just checked Wikipedia: oregano has pink flowers and marjoram has white flowers. So what I pruned *was* marjoram. That it is less vigorous than the oregano is also a clue.
I didn't pull many weeds.
Down to one sheet, I found the memo book I cut into two and put one into the plastic notebook. That notebook has been around for a while; it was a favor at Jamie and Andy's wedding.
New Phone: it doesn't beep when done charging, it beeps at unpredictable intervals whenever it's plugged in.
The new winter savory plant appears to be thriving, but can't yet spare any twigs. I think I'll wait until spring to move the mother plant.
I still haven't tried to figure out what I was doing with the skirt gores on the card table. The cat fur on them is getting rather thick.
Thursday: Roomba is working in the bedroom. Al is complaining that his litter box isn't where it belongs. Or if we can't do that, will Dave *please* sit down and make a lap!
He's not getting anywhere.
Finally got around to copying the "private" Live Journal posts to this file, but I don't think I've done any real work this morning.
I finally remembered to turn the pillow cases inside out before I washed them! A few weeks ago I absent-mindedly put one away inside out, and discovered that cases are much easier to get onto the pillows when they start with the wrong side out: put your hand into the case, grab the bottom of the pillow through the bottom of the case, turn the case right-side out.
And, of course, this keeps them from getting lint in the corners.
Yesterday, I wanted to make up for Saturday being rained out, so I returned my leopard-print fleece robe to Goodwill, and came back by way of Sprawlmart. Also stopped at Aunt Millie's and bought a loaf of bread and a bag of slimwich buns. Details are filed under "ride reports" on PAGEJOY.
I went back to the "yellow dot zone" in Carson's, and found the very pants I'd bought before — but only in two sizes too small. All the dresses were gone, but there were a *lot* more pants.
I'm sure there was another pair of "new old pants", but it took me less than half an hour to get tired of looking. There were so *many* pairs of pants, so *much* polyester and Spandex, and so many times that I gave up trying to find out what the pants were made of.
It's a shame that on my previous trip I didn't think of trying on one of those hot-fabric sleeveless dresses over my jersey — I could use a jumper.
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It's time to dump everything out of my miscellaneous grooming-aids drawer. While getting ready to go to the ophthalmologist, I noticed that my comb was dirty, remembered that when I was packing for the reunion I'd seen a comb-cleaning rake — and couldn't find it.
My nail brush didn't do a very good job.
After yesterday's ride, I noticed that despite having been rinsed twice on Saturday, and in rain water the first time, my jersey stank. In the interest of not gassing Dr. Hickman, I undressed into the washing machine — but forgot to brush the lint out of my pockets. There was a *lot* of lint in those pockets — and one of them contained a paper napkin. Luckily, I'd turned off the extra rinse because I was mistrusting the smart-alec washer more than usual, so I was able to shake everything before the final rinse. I still had to pick some paper off my knickers before I put them on.
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Well, I didn't think I'd be brushing the lint out of the pockets quite so soon.
I stopped at Owen's to wait for the eyedrops to wear off, and I hadn't had much lunch, so when I saw a single-serve carton of chocolate milk on the WooHoo! shelf, I bought it. But there was a good reason it didn't sell at the regular price: When I opened it, it splashed all over my front.
And it was rather thin and tasteless.
I also bought a slice of chuck, which I plan to slow cook tomorrow, with potato and onions from our garden. And assorted other vegetables.
We had a pretty good rainstorm while I was in Owen's. Quite a surprise when I came out! Particularly since there was somebody standing where I'd have to ask him to move to get to my preferred parking space, so I leaned the bike against the wall a few feet east — beyond the awning.
My do-rag got so wet I couldn't put it back on. It's in the washing machine with my jersey. Luckily, I had disposed of my book at the emergency room, and hadn't taken much else to the exam.
Dr. Hickman said my eyes are stable and I don't have to come back for a year. I was shocked to see how bad the vision in my right eye is.
And I was surprised when I did the point test just now: I'm still right-eyed!
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Used the memo pad I created on the first for the first time today. The other half; I can't find the one that was in the notebook when I got caught in the rain. There's still a sheet left of the old one, but it's stuck to a page that I'm referring to, and I don't want to tear the pad apart until I'm done with it.
I think that I broke the hinge of the plug-in cover of my new phone today. I felt something snap when I put the phone into my pocket after taking it off the charger, and pulled it out to find that the cover dangled at an unusual angle. I closed the cover, and the cork seems to hold it firmly, so I suppose the cover will continue to function after the other side of the hinge breaks — if I don't drop it. I must remember to hold the phone over the paper tray when I plug and unplug it.
In case of getting rained on again, I put a piece of black tape over the phone jack. It's nearly invisible.
Sometime recently, I dug out several offshoots of the winter savory and planted them along the foundation behind the fern bed. Then I dug up several volunteer thyme plants and started a hedge around the base of the northern raised bed.
I've been neglecting small, low-growing weeds that aren't crowding strawberry plants — the bed kills back to just a few plants every winter, and can use some ground cover. On close inspection, rather a lot of those weeds are seedling thyme plants.
All of the transplanted thyme plants appear to be thriving. Only two of the transplanted winter savory plants are still visible, but those two look healthy.
I've resumed work on the skirt. I sewed a couple of seams this morning, before my afternoon appointment.