Halfway through reading the Mayor's column in last Tuesday's paper, I baffled and Google-mapped for some time before I realized what he meant by "the intersection of West Market, Provident Drive, and North Point Drive". Center crosses Market on the west edge of town, Provident Drive is on the east edge, and North Point is on the other side of 30.
Changing "West Center Street from Lake to the intersection of West Market" to "West Center Street from Lake to its intersection with West Market" would have helped a lot.
"Center Street from Lake to Market" wouldn't do, because Market and Center are parallel.
Yesterday I complained that the doors to the pantry closet in the kitchen were hard to close. Dave found that a screw needed to be tightened — but to tighten it, he had to stand inside the closet.
So all the shelves had to come out. We found stuff I didn't know we had. Then there had to be a major scrubbing. Dave took care of the shelves, and I got about halfway through the walls before I gave out. Today, I finished the walls and scrubbed the floor, then with a prolonged mighty effort Dave managed to get the door back on, and we put the shelves back in. Later on, he scrubbed a particularly-filthy rack.
Somewhat to my surprise, everything is back in the closet and the card table he'd put stuff on is put away. There is enough surplus space that I suspect something is sitting somewhere.
All this was only half the closet; we left the other door alone.
Dave has been researching traverse rods and curtains. The next time that door comes off, it's staying off.
Al was on Dave's lap when the time-for-a-treat whistle went off an hour early. Dave says that Al was visibly startled, looked at Dave, looked at the clock, looked all around, then decided to go with the flow, jumped off the lap, and trotted off to meet me.
The end of the sheet that I hung up first was frozen stiff before I got the other end pinned.
But I was using a lot of pins because of the wind. The pins are still holding, but I think I'll bring it in before I lie down — with the wind so fierce, it must be nearly dry.
Dave says that Al already expects the treat whistle at the earlier time. I suspect that he won't adapt as easily this fall.
Spring has sprung. This morning we saw a flock of bufflehead butterballs that had stopped for a rest on their way to Canada, and while I was eating my lunch in the shelterhouse at Tippy Park, I had to shoo bugs away.
And when I got home, I had to throw my sweaty undershirt into the wash.
When I was buying refried beans and peanuts at Carniceria San José, I noticed that they have cooking onions. The supermarkets sell only huge onions for making sandwich-size slices, and I hardly ever serve that sort of sandwich. Slicing onions are good cooked, but there's such a lot left over.
I had just used up the last of the onions I bought at the Farmer's Market last fall, so I made a point of going that way on my way home. And this morning I chopped the smallest of the new onions and stirred it into my egg-and-potato cake.
It's high time I entered Tuesday's receipts into Quicken. I have three from Owen's: on the way out, I forgot to buy something to eat at Tippy Park and went back inside, and I put off buying milk until the way back. Two receipts from San José, and one from Lowery. I bought 3/4" elastic for the back pocket of my new jersey, and seven bobbins for the treadle sewing machine.
Yesterday, I got back from the grocery before Dave got back from the dentist. I probably set off the driveway alarm when I rolled in, then I opened the garage door, parked the bike, and closed the door. I put away the groceries and started to put "hot barbie" on the pork chop I planned to bake for supper (it was delicious, by the way), realized that I hadn't seen the cat yet and resolved to check that he hadn't gotten out when I came in as soon as the chop was in the fridge. Just then the driveway alarm sounded, the garage door went up, and Al came trotting out to greet Dave.
He is definitely a daddy's cat.
Dave has been tapping the trees in our yard and boiling down the sap. Well, simmering it down; we don't care to hover over it, so he sets the heat very low, and if we are both out, we move the pot of sap to the pilot light.
Yesterday I stirred up half a batch of Betty Crocker's raised buckwheat pancakes, and this morning I added the hot water and soda. Instead of putting in half a tablespoon of molasses, I used simmering sap for the hot water. The soda foamed up so that I couldn't see how much I was pouring in. Must be a lot of acid in maple sap.
Both the pancakes and the home-brewed syrup were a great success.
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While I was taking my nap, Dave went out to the shop for a minute. There went two gallons of sap.
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I do believe that those are tulip leaves in the flower bed.
The black stuff in the pot proved resistant to scrubbing, but Dave reports that boiling some washing soda, Dawn, and a few crumbs of Ivory soap took it right out.
While the pot was sitting in the sink with hot water and Dawn in it, I washed a cat-food cannister and a drainer of miscellany.
Today I decided that it was time to get the autumn leaves out of the fern bed. After partly-clearing a square yard of bed and piling up a bushel of leaves, I realized that I'd should ease into this activity.
I went shopping with Dave today. We went to Menard and bought a clothesline pole and some small things, then we went to Martin's and bought an absurd quantity of meat. But grabbing the ham shank was my fault. I have until April 4 to make the soup.
I've planned a pure-exercise ride west of town for Tuesday. (Boring, but not as boring as sitting in a chair pedalling Dave's exercise machine.)
On checking the prediction, I noted that winds will be out of the south all day, slightly from the east when I'm heading west, changing to slightly from the west about the time I'll turn around. I think there's a law against winds doing that. Of course it's small enough that I won't notice; perhaps that keeps it under the radar.
I think I'll make a potato salad for just us the next time I see one-pound potatoes for sale.
I just read tomorrow's "Doonesbury". Trudeau is getting beyond desperate for nasty things to say; he should take a break from politics and write about kindergarten children and bunny rabbits.
It's tragic to see someone who was once a genius brought so low.
Which is the worst problem I have this week!
Dave pulled the taps out of the maples today. There are two pint jars and three half-pint jars of syrup in the fridge, and we've eaten quite a lot.
We've decided where to put the new clothesline — pretty much where the old one is.
The birch stump I've been using for a clothesline pole is about ready to push over, and the north-south line broke off the cottonwood during the winter and isn't worth putting back up. The new lines are to be secured to the side of the house instead of the sycamore tree, and there will be five of them. Maybe. We'll use the line hanging in the shop, and if that's enough I won't bother to buy more.
I hope the old line holds through tomorrow's wash. A good drying day is predicted, but windy in the afternoon. Snow fell all during my walk home from church today, but you had to pay attention to notice.
Tomorrow will be a busy day. A few days ago I decided to get the turkey out of the freezer, and tomorrow is the day when it's supposed to finish thawing. I calculate that I need to turn the oven on at one p.m. and put the turkey in at half past.
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