While sorting through the ads in this morning's paper, I came across a simple and yummy-sounding recipe for serving extra-healthy low-fat "No Yolk" noodles: Completely bury them in whipping cream with parmesan cheese dissolved in it.
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This reminded me that I have some red-rice noodles, so I looked up "red rice" in Wikipedia, and learned that Mom's spanish rice is Charleston Red Rice with browned hamburger substituted for sausage. I wonder how many jambalaya-type dishes there are? Wikipedia has cross-references to Jolof rice, thieboudienne, and sekihan, and Spain's paella appears to belong to this group.
GRRR! I started the washer for the second rinse and went out to start a fire. The fire was unexpectedly difficult to start — turned out that the Ohio Blue tip matches were so old that, once I got the fire going with a different box of matches, it was difficult to light them with a flame.
Then I said awk scrickle it's way past time to hang up the clothes — and the machine was still sitting there with the "sensing" light on. So I reset it and it started dribbling in water.
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Not a good year for Beeson teeth. Dr. Hollar thinks Dave's sore tooth will clear up with antibiotics, but if it doesn't, he'll have to have a root canal.
I put the second load of wash on racks to dry. The first load is brought in, folded, and put away.
When I write my ride report, it will consist entirely of what went wrong — starting with the routine thumb-test of my tires just before mounting up and rolling out. The back tire didn't need to be tested: it was completely and obviously flat. It held air long enough to get to the Trailhouse — then the replacement tube blew up in the mechanic's face. Literally: he had it up on a workstand.
But despite clipping six miles off the route, I think that I succeeded in my goal of getting exhausted.
I bought a knee-length T-shirt at Goodwill. And (among other things) a jar of apricot jam and two bags of Crunchy Vital Cookies at Aldi.
I didn't stop anywhere else in Sprawlmart, because the sun was low in the sky and I hadn't looked up the time of sunset before I left. I think I could have looked in at Sally's Beauty Supply, but I was very glad that I'd turned around at 300 E instead of 600 E.
Sunset today was 7:19.
On my way out of town yesterday, I stopped at the teller machine and picked up fifty dollars and, as a result, almost ran out of folding money.
I left my card stuck in the machine and had to pay cash for everything.
I called Dave and he called the number on the back of the card (I intend to program that into my phone Real Soon Now) and they killed the card first and asked questions later.
Today I walked to the bank to order a new card. My old card had been found, and for a while the teller thought that she could re-activate it, but someone else told her that that was possible only when it's a bank employee who finds the card stuck in the machine. At least the card is found and shredded. My new one will be here in about a week; in the meanwhile, Dave withdrew three hundred dollars from my account — that should last me a week!
And she said that they are already in the process of changing the machines so that they give the card back before they issue the money.
Well, well. While throwing out some obsolete bulletins, I saw an un-struck note to check out springfountain.com. The Web site doesn't exist, so I DuckDucked to see whether I'd miss-spelled it — and discovered that at one time, "Spring Fountain Park" meant the whole town — which was still on Eagle Lake at the time. The history page I found didn't go as late as the change to Winona Lake, and at that point, I decided to get back to work.
And wrote this instead, already being seated at the computer.
Dave's tooth got worse, yesterday morning he called Hollar's office, they said we have a doctor available come in right now, and he got a root canal started and has an appointment on the thirteenth to complete it. Or do the next stage; I'm not too clear.
Still looks as though it will be clear for the hike tomorrow. I hope Martha comes.
Meanwhile, I was excavating the electric sewing machine because I need to zig-zag a hem.
Hem done, skirt in closet.
At lunch today I polished off the guacamole I made the day before yesterday — and I made it in the evening. When I eat an avocado straight, it lasts a week.
But then Dave did eat some of the guacamole.
We ate most of it on little cheese crackers. So much for eating avocado because it lowers my cholesterol! (Not to mention that I put sour cream in to keep it from turning brown.)
The fall nature hike was this morning. I judged, correctly, that it would be well within my walking range — but forgot that there would be a lot of standing around. I touched off my nerve damage more than once; I'd better remember to take aspirin tonight.
After we all sniffed the wild ginger root, I was left with the plant in my hand, so I wrapped the root in a fruit-bar wrapper I hadn't been able to get rid of after breakfast, brought it home, and planted it in the azaelia bed. I doubt that it will have time to make a tuber before frost, but it does have two good leaves.
Another hiker took home some "chicken of the woods" fungus, one of the four safe wild mushrooms. The guide split the frond to show us that it had chicken-breast texture, and said that it also tastes something like chicken. It's a spectacular and beautiful fungus; we left the other one intact.
The guy who took the chicken home is a strong fellow. They carried their child the whole way, and he wasn't that young a child.
I bashed one of my mystery bruises on a doorknob as I was walking past — but I don't think I hit hard enough to leave a mark, and the bruises are all the same age. Or, at least, the same color.
Dave said it must have something to do with my bicycle. But I *think* that I noticed them before the Tour d'Nothing Went Right.
Speaking of mishaps, during the hike the leader picked a spray of teeny blossoms, I reached into my pocket, and my magnifying glasses weren't there. I'll bet the other hikers wondered why I took everything out of my pocket and put it back again; I couldn't believe that I'd put the folding glasses anywhere other than my pants pocket. (They were in the bureau drawer; now they are in the pocket.)
Oops! I started the washing machine, forgetting that Dave was in the shower. That would be bad enough with a regular washer that changes the water temperature when it starts, then again when the tub is full — but mine runs the hot and the cold alternately, for reasons not known even to the designer.
More oops: I divided the pile into loads and started one before Dave had sorted out his dirty clothes.
So I rose early, but not too bright.
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It Columbus Day, according to the calendar. I think the real date is Wednesday. It's making no difference here; Dave just took out the trash for tomorrow's pickup.
My back hurts today, sometimes all the way to my left knee. I suspect that after standing around a lot at the hike on Saturday, and standing to sing hymns on Sunday, yesterday wasn't a good time to walk home from church by way of Winona Hotel.
I'm rethinking my plan to take advantage of tomorrow's fine weather by going for a long ride. Perhaps a short trip to the Pill Box would be in order. I forgot to stop there on the Tour d' Nothing Went Right.
I hope Aldi still has Vital Crunch Cookies when I next go to Sprawlmart. I bought two bags, but should have bought four. They are very small bags, and neither one made it to the freezer.
Now that my skirt is as finished as it's going to get before I wear it to the church's Halloween party. I'm at loose ends as to what to do with myself — *because* my to-do list fills two screens on my vertical monitor.
First, I'll answer an e-mail message that has been languishing for days. Then, perhaps, I'll clean up some of my Web pages. And I've had an idea for my Usenet column that I should record before I forget it.
It Columbus Day!
The guacamole I made yesterday afternoon is nearly gone. But I did serve it with a "black-bean lasagna" that was too big for one person and not quite big enough for two.
I put in a teaspoon of lime juice, an eighth of a teaspoon of salt, a few forkfuls of sour cream, and some minced kow choi (garlic chive) leaves.
How will I make guacamole after frost gets the herb beds?
Oddly, the parts of the avocado that were pureed showed little tendency to turn brown, but the lumps uniformly did. Perhaps the more-intimate acquaintance with the sour cream did it.
If we're going to eat it as fast as I mash it, I guess it doesn't matter.
I waited too long to mash today's avocado, and less than half of it was edible. I put a lot of sour cream and lime juice in, and a larger volume of chopped garlic-chive (kow choi) leaves than the guacamole, and called it a salad. Dave said he wanted nothing to do with the resulting concoction, so I shaved in some feta cheese, and later added a piece of spent chipotle. It's good on a cracker. Not much of it.
When I stew beef in my rice cooker, I put a thick layer of chopped celery at the bottom — or on top of the potatoes, if there are any — to keep the meat from coming in direct contact with the heat.
At bedtime-snack time today, I found that broth-soaked celery (contaminated with bits of onion and so forth) makes an excellent sandwich salad.
It was raining today, so I wore my polyester dress to church. I didn't remember until I'd gotten there that I have a green bandanna I could have used to fill in the too-low neck. I look scraggly in a low neck, but I wasn't there as a decoration.
I'm planning to attend the fifties-themed Fall Family Festival in my usual wizard gown.
If I get hot or the sleeves get in the way, I'll peel it off; I intend to wear black jeans and a black turtleneck under it. As a gesture toward the theme, I paused the construction of my circle skirt while the hem was all jagged. Since it ties on, I can wear it over anything.
A remarkable event this morning: I noticed that another hook in the laundry room would be useful, Dave looked at it, said "we have more of those hooks", and went out to the shop to fetch one thinking that it would be a simple job.
And lo and behold, it *was* a simple job.
The sun on my black long-sleeved shirt was painful, so I changed back into my summer slopping-around shirt.
A timer put into the smock pockets of my winter shirts gets its buttons pushed, so I guess I'll have to retrofit all my dirty-work shirts with timer pockets on the shoulder, not just those that lack pockets.
This morning, I'm high-stepping over non-virtual walls, and Dave threw a tube of glue into the trash.
A while back the Roomba broke its sensor off while trying to sweep under a lampstand that wasn't quite high enough. Dave glued it back on, ordered a new bumper (sensors are sold only attached to bumpers), and put blocks under the lampstand and my dresser. A very neat job, too; you can't see that they've been raised unless you look.
On Sunday, the glue let go. Dave put on the new bumper, and the sensor doesn't work.
He took the charger out from under the futon and put it into the bedroom. It really isn't that inconvenient to put it on the charger instead of telling it to dock — now that we don't have to move the futon first.
The sadly-neglected house on the corner is now a vacant lot. I see no sign that it had foundations, but I didn't go down there until days after demolition started.
I presume that a mansion will soon be going up. I hope they have the sense to use high foundations.
I returned two library books yesterday, and checked out a collection.
Dave says he saw loads of fill going by. I don't see evidence at the unbuilding site, except that part of the lot is a lighter color than it was.
I mailed two letters today, and dragged out the pedestrian accelerator to shorten the trip to the post office. Since I already had my pants pinned up, I took a quick trip around the block to see what was going on at the site. Nothing, but I passed some tree work — and met a truck and trailer backing out of the one-way road. I met him again — going forward — as I was turning onto Cherry Street on the return leg. I presume that he wanted to get to the other side of the tree work.
Dave has the Roomba apart again. I told him that if he leaves town for a few days, I'm going to use a broom. I'm no good at finding bits of operating manual scattered all over the Web.
Still can't get my scanner to do anything but make jaypegs. It's capable of all sorts of things, but the "manual" only hints at the possibility of doing this or that, and doesn't say anything you can't learn by reading the buttons. And it's a PDF file, so it doesn't have cross-references or any of the other amenities digital documents are supposed to have.
Well, I *can* enlarge the type. But it doesn't wrap to fit the screen.
Hey, the laundry hamper is empty! That's because the sorted laundry is all over the floor, but there is usually an undisturbed pile in the bottom compartment, and I'm doing a hot-with-bleach load today. If I can ever get it rinsed. (The "smart" washing machine is being unusually "smart".)
Thought for a moment that I'd have to take the above paragraph back, but the diaper hanging on the end bar that I didn't get into the washer for the overnight soak was *under* the laundry hamper at the time. It's the kicking rag for small spills, and can serve another week.
Weather Underground said that this would be a good day to hang whites out to bleach, but it also said that I need to get them inside by five. (Sunset is at 6:47, egad! Must be nearly time to start sleeping an hour later in the mornings.)
So I am not happy about the washer insisting on a late start. I have another load of whites to hang out — I changed the bed this morning, and I think that that will fill the washer and I'll have to run a third white load for socks and underwear.
My white linen do rag is on the floor. Finally time to wash it and put it away for the winter.
I'll have to wash the blacks and the reds separately today — I'm also putting my black mesh-backed gloves away for the winter, and they bleed like a stuck pig.
The hamper isn't quite empty, but I've become accustomed to regarding the old Chinese quilt as the bottom of the hamper. It's too big to wash, too worn to give to Goodwill, and too good to landfill.
I've washed it by hand in the tub, hauling it to the washer to be spun, but I think that that was the old washer, I no longer feel up to that much effort — and yesterday Dave called Verne Gross to talk about having the tub taken out, and new linoleum and wallpaper put in.
Dave always showers, and I take a bath only when I want to soak the pain out of bruises or sore muscles. I hardly ever get into that shape, and when I do, I don't feel like cleaning the tub. I *think* I got into the tub at least once in the last fifteen years. I have used it for washing my feet, but Dave has put a stool in the shower that is more comfortable than the edge of the tub.
I'm feeling nostalgic for my college days, when, if I wanted to take a bath, I just grabbed my towel and trotted down the hall to a tub that somebody else had to clean.
What called our attention to the un-necessity of the tub was carpenter ants crawling out from under it. Dave gassed the bathroom a couple of times, and put a row of poison baits on the floor close to the tub.
The debit card I was supposed to get in "about a week" has still not arrived. I must say that doing without it makes punching my receipts into Quicken simpler — no sorting, they are all cash.
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I hadn't hung all the laundry on the line before the hamper was no longer empty.
When the sun set, there wasn't more than would fit on one rack still damp. But I stretched the definition of "not damp" for things that went onto hangers. I still have a handful of black clothes to wash, but no hurry. Well, I might need the black neck scarf next Sunday.
Or the black undershirt on Wednesday. I
wore a T-shirt under my black turtleneck for the
halloween party Fall Family
Festival. I left the wizard gown home, but
wore the hat and the face paint.
From which I think I'm now fully recovered. Yesterday I came back from my annual checkup exhausted, took an extra-long nap, and was too tired last night to set up the bike so I could ride to this morning's mammogram appointment, which is rather a pity because it is a lovely day and I was chipper and alert the whole morning despite getting up two hours early and forgetting to eat breakfast.
So I had a bowl of cereal for lunch. With pecans and frozen blueberries.
But I stopped for milk on the way back, and Kroger seltzer was in stock for a change, so I bought five cartons. (One of each flavor, except for plain and coconut.)
Didn't remember to stop at the Pillbox to fill my prescription for a walker. I hope there is no hurry about that.
I seem to have these little contretemps in the spring, just when I think I'm getting back into shape after the winter. Sprained knee two years ago, backache last spring, arthritis of the sacroiliac this spring. I should check the Banner for spring 2013.
Near as I can tell, 2013 was my lucky year. I found a neat recipe for cheese dip while I was looking — but it calls for ingredients found only at Avila's Mexican Supermarket. I haven't checked to see when Avila burned down.
I picked up my walker this morning. This model comes in green, red, and blue. When I bought it last Saturday (didn't pick it up then because I was riding my bike) they asked which one, and I said "green" because the floor model was acceptable, then remembered that Dave doesn't like green and said "no, red", but bethought me that people often say "red" and mean orange, and I haven't been too fond of orange since the time I spent two years in a "deep yellow" dormitory room in which *everything* was some shade of orange, so I said "no, blue", and it turns out that blue is quite pretty. All the colors are mottled with black, and black hardly contrasts with blue at all; at first glance it appears to be solid blue.
I was just barely able to put it into the trunk, and think that when I need it, I will throw it into the back seat. If the back seat is occupied, there will be someone to help me rassle it into the trunk.
Then I got it home and couldn't fit it into the hall closet. I might be able to if I clean out the closet, and if I ever organize the sewing room, there might be room in that closet; in the meanwhile, it's parked in the garage.
While shopping, I worried that I'd forget and try to fold my walker without first emptying the bag under the seat, but with this model you raise the seat and grab the handle through the bag; if I leave something in, it will be on purpose. Or because I just witnessed a fifteen-car pileup and was totally out of it.
I finally washed blacks this evening. I'd accumulated almost enough to make half a load. I had no idea that I had so many black shirts.
Upon counting them, there are only four wet shirts hanging in the hallway — the rest of the load was pants, socks, a bandanna, and, of course, my summer mesh-back gloves. But I checked the closet and found three black man's T-shirts, and an old black spun-silk turtleneck with gaping holes under the arms, which I keep to wear as underwear — over a black T-shirt — in bitterly-cold weather.
And a fancy black polyester blouse.
Still no debit card, and I forgot to walk to the bank today. I've memorized Dave's PIN number.
On Saturday I stopped at the Teller Machine for two "fast fifties"; it refused to give me my cash until after I'd taken my card back.
When I went to put the four twenties and two tens with my other bills, I discovered that I'd forgotten to move my cash from my jeans to my wallet, so I had to return home and start over.