I thought I had an enormous quantity of ragged old bath mats, but when I climbed up on the step-stool and neatened the pile, there were only four bath mats in it, and only two that I wanted to get rid of. But there's at least one more in the hot-bleach bin of the laundry hamper.
I get to ride tomorrow! I have an appointment on Monday at a place off Husky Trail where I've never been, so I'm interested in seeing exactly where it is. And the two-mile ride includes an extremely unpleasant place to cross US 30, so I'm going to cross at 325 E, a twenty-mile ride. This takes me past the animal shelter, and they are accepting donations left at their door.
Of course, I have to use Parker Street to get back, but it isn't as unpleasant going east. Still involves a sprint that may start well back from the seven lane widths that I have to cross.
If I hadn't been vegetating so long, I could cross 30 on Anchorage. But it's no better than Parker.
I cut a big loop off my planned route, leaving 13.9 miles.
Since I hadn't been able to leave a decent map, I sent Dave a text from each long road I turned onto, when I could find a spot of shade to keep glare off the screen. When I was passing Sacred Heart Catholic Church on Fort Wayne Street, he sent me a text saying "You make good time when you're not stopping".
Sacred Heart was a good place to receive a text on a sunny day; they have a roof over part of their driveway, so I could read without getting off the bike to hunch over my phone.
I learned that I must stop using the Heritage Trail as a shortcut to Roy Street for the duration. The parking lot was full, the trail is close to lots of houses, and it isn't all that wide.
So I undressed into the washing machine and took a shower when I got home.
A shower is a good idea after a ride anyhow.
Weather Underground says that I'm going to drive the car to my dermatology appointment.
I baked our last two Red-Wattle sausages with a lot of vegetables for supper tonight. I do hope that the Farmers' Market opens in May, so that I can get more.
And that Hill 'n Dale Farms rents a booth. [ 21 April 2020: the news has said that the market will open in May for food vendors only. Pity I didn't get a bunch of one-dollar bills while I could still go into a bank.]
We ate all the vegetables, but there's a bite of sausage left.
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Poor Al! My back has been bothering me for a few days — which is one reason I had to go on today's ride; riding on a road bike allows me to keep my back muscles moving without putting strain on them.
So I move veerrrrry slowly when I put his food on the floor, and he thinks I'm teasing him.
I was already improving when I got up this morning.
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I just read that the worldwide toilet-paper shortage has nothing to do with hoarding.
There's a shortage because nobody is using public restrooms — which means that they need forty percent more paper at home.
Margins are very thin, re-directing commercial supply isn't easy, and if the supply chain could manage to do it, there would be a shortage of commercial paper when the lockdown ends. Probably a long-lasting shortage, because the redirection would bankrupt many of the suppliers.
The article said that some restaurants are selling commercial rolls of toilet paper and boxes of commercial bananas with their take-out.
It also said that commercial bananas are smaller than grocery-store bananas. One would expect it to be the other way around.
I realized this morning that I am very skilled in cutting a banana in half in such fashion that the left-over half will stand up on the cut end.
I hear Mary just got out of surgery. She's the only person left who knows why this story is funny:
After undressing into the washing machine and taking a shower yesterday, I carried the shoes I had worn out to air in the sunlight.
Al escaped, and I went back into the house to wash my hands *before* I picked him up and brought him in.
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I mixed up a batch of bread dough this morning. In the afternoon, on a whim, I made some of it into a pizza. We don't have a lot of pizza ingredients on hand. We had pepperoni, but the package had been nibbled almost empty, so I supplemented it with breakfast sausage.
I covered the dough with thin-sliced colby-jack cheese before adding the pepperoni and sausage, then spread tomato sauce around as best I could (hard to spread it thin without dislodging the meat), and put sliced mini-sweet peppers and a little chopped onion on top.
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When I was putting it into the oven, I remembered that I'd intended to make a hamburger pizza. Mixing the meat into the sauce would have been *much* easier.
This dish wouldn't have satisfied anyone with a longing for pizza, but I liked it very much. The crust is thin and crisp.
I used significantly less than half the dough, and what was left fit a glass meatloaf pan perfectly. I waited to form the loaf until after I was through topping the pizza, so that the bread could go in after the pizza came out.
Fifteen minutes at 425° was just right for the pizza .
I set the oven on 450° for five minutes before putting the bread in, then immediately reduced the heat to 350°.
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The daffodils have begun to bloom. The hyacinth are thinking about it.
I planted the multipliers this evening. After setting them into the row, I shoveled dirt from the old compost heap into the wheelbarrow through Dave's litter screen, and was surprised that when I got tired of shovelling, I had enough dirt to cover all of them.
I also had a backache, so I did some exercises on the picnic table before finishing the job. (I think it was bending over to use the screen that touched my back off.)
This morning, there were no cars in the parking lot, but I heard someone in the sanctuary when I was exercising on the back staircase. I couldn't make out the words, but it sounded like a sermon, so I went back down the stairs and walked to the other staircase through the fellowship hall. The sanctuary was empty when I went up the front stairs later, and I never did see anyone, but the ramp-room door was locked open.
I wore my new mask, then washed it and hung it to dry in the car so I'd be sure to take it with me when I go to the dermatologist tomorrow.
Yesterday we had some excitement, and Tom and Jim dropped in.
I'd better say up front that it turned out to be a false alarm, and all is well. In retrospect, Dave thinks he had a "perfect storm": three or four of his conditions activated together.
All I know is that I was in bed trying to take a nap when Dave came into the room, sat down on the bed, said he wanted me to call an ambulance, and flopped back. So I did, then put the phone on "speaker" so Dave could hear. When she told me to hang on, I wouldn't be able to hear her while she talked to other people, but she could hear me, I handed the phone to Dave and started to get dressed.
Shows I've been here before, and that I wasn't thinking about the current situation: nobody who isn't a patient is allowed to set foot in the place, not even to escort the patient to his room, but I was trying to get ready to follow him to the hospital anyhow.
The ambulance must have been quite prompt, because I had my shoes and socks in my hand when I let them in.
They checked Dave over, took his history and his vitals, and advised against going to the hospital.
He still has scintillating scotoma, but it's interesting and annoying rather than alarming. It may take a day or two to wear off.
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According to an e-mail from Lowery's, the United Way wants remnants of fabric for a mask-sewing project. Here's a chance to clear out my stash and take a little ride. (Very little, but I suppose I could come back around the south end of the lake.) Weather Underground says Wednesday will be good, and they are accepting donations until Friday.
I won't wear my freshly-laundered jersey.
I just noticed that the hyacinth is in bloom.
The spellchecker said I got "hyacinth" right the first time!
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I read the slip on which I'd written my appointment dozens of times, and saw "8 April" every time, but did it register, did it? Monday was marked on my calendar, and on Monday I went — to find the place locked. Stood around a couple of eons waiting for the phone system to bring me to the top of the priority list. Blush.
I hope I remembered to apologize.
When I got home, I complained that it had been a perfect day to hang clothes on the line; Dave pointed out that I still had time to wash a load and hang it out, and we had only one load, so the wash is done. And all put away, though two pairs of socks were still on a rack in the parlor when Dave wanted to sweep it this morning.
I can wash my hair without getting my nose wet!
They will call in five or six days with the lab results of the biopsy.
The other two bumps are zits. She used a medical term that started with "m", but I didn't write it down. I was too relieved that it wasn't cancer to register details.
I can see the bandaid on my nose. I keep thinking it's something I should brush off.
I've twice gone out to ride around the block on my flatfoot bike. There's been a lot of *that* going around!
Yuck! Cottonwood stickypod season has begun.
On the other hand, there's an asparagus sprout as thick as my thumb and almost as long in the garden, and if I had a packet of instant hot-and-sour soup, I could put rhubarb in it.
Alas, it's not the lockdown — the store where I used to buy oriental food went broke.
I dug a huge clump of winter onions, and re-planted three of them to start new clumps. I'm only halfway through cleaning them. We've been using winter onions, but this was the overgrown clump on the end.
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I put fourteen scallions into a produce bag, and cut one up to fit into the semi-disposable dish I use as a relish plate. It will be a while before I need to dig more onions!
When I started out the door with two plates of roots and refuse, the rain had begun, so I set them in the garage planning to dump them tomorrow.
With all the stuff I raked out of the garden, the compost heap is fairly high. There are so many dead leaves in it that it shouldn't take long for it to settle down, particularly since I'm been putting dirt on it — some with the lumps I sifted out of the old compost heap, most on the roots of weeds.
Tomorrow we pick up our grocery order! I've been trying to guess what we'll be out of in two weeks so that I can add it to the shopping list for our next order.
Except for milk, we can eat normally on what we've already got for a while. We have five weeks of seltzer, because I habitually fill up the trunk so that I won't have to drive the car again soon.
And one of these days I'm going to get around to thawing and baking that turkey. I think I'll start it thawing the day Dave cleans the frost out of the freezer.
I intended to have Dave photograph my bandaid this morning, but I woke up without it.
When I went to comb my hair, which I'd left loose after my shower, I found the bandaid wadded up and clinging precariously to the ends of a few hairs.
I've given up on donating unwanted cotton remnants to the United Way; undressing into the washing machine twice in one week does not appeal to me, and tomorrow is the last day the bins will be there. Perhaps I can get the scraps to the quilting club that meets at New Life Christian Church.
The story said that they usually meet at the Senior Center, which is closed for lockdown.
Since churches are closed, it makes a lot of sense: all the pastor had to do was to give one of the ladies a key, and a church dining room is big enough that the ladies don't have to get close to one another. The story didn't say, but I presume that they leave the sewing machines set up between meetings.
I looked it up on Google Maps, and it's the church north of Tractor Supply that I frequently pass; it's a very large church and I presume that their dining room is even bigger than our Fellowship Hall.
Well, I was home again before the time I had expected my call to be returned — and I drove very slowly on the way back because of going east at eight in the morning. Not to mention that I hadn't bothered with a hat because I didn't expect to be outside. Dave's sun hat was in the back seat, but didn't help all that much. I managed not to run over anybody even though there is a lot of construction on Winona Avenue.
Yesterday, when I was eating the last bite of my supper (a quarter pound of fresh 80% hamburger on a Brownberry bun, with fresh-pulled winter onion), my temporary crown fell apart. I immediately called Dr. Hollar — at least four times on account of messing up and starting over. I don't have a lot of practice with voice mail.
He called back that evening and said that he would be in today because he had a patient coming, and if I got there before 7:30, he could get me in and out before the other patient arrived. Despite the harrowing drive back, I'm *really* glad that he could take care of it so early; my tongue is very sore from only thirteen hours of sharp tooth.
Before starting, he checked my bin to see whether my crown had arrived, then later, when a hygienist came in, he sent her to check the unsorted deliveries, and still no soap. It isn't scheduled to arrive until the thirteenth, and whoever is doing it — he told the hygienist who when he asked her to check the deliveries, but I didn't catch it. There was a word in the name that made me think of ceramics.
Whoever is doing it is running short-handed and mostly closed, so delivery time is uncertain.
He told her he had an orthodontic patient coming, and to set up two other rooms as well. He also told her he was very grateful that she came in.
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In the afternoon, Dave and I cleaned the frost out of the freezer. It's amazing how much more room there is in there then things are arranged neatly.
Of course, it helps that the meat and vegetables are still packed into the freezer compartment of the soda fridge, the turkey is thawing in the kitchen fridge, and I threw out all the ice.
There's hardly any millet flour left. I should thicken something so I can throw out the bag. And I should make some yummies with the other odd flours.
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At which point Dave came in and asked me to clear some space in the soda-fridge freezer, and there is *still* worlds of space. But we left all the breakfast food in the soda fridge so that we could find it.
There are only five packages of plain meat: duck confit, smoked pork necks, four hamburger patties, and two ground-beef chubs. We have half a bin of meat pies and microwave dinners.
I've been wanting to cook the smoked pork necks for weeks, but haven't been able to buy any beans.
Which reminded me to put Great Northern Beans back on the shopping list.
There wasn't a list of omitted items with our latest order. I hope that it was a new stock boy, rather than a change of policy. We should start printing out the order or taking a screen shot before submitting it.
I've been complaining that Martin's Shop to Go won't let you look at the catalog unless you are actually placing an order; Dave told me to pretend I'm placing an order, then cancel it. So this morning I tried to create an account, only to be told that I can't have an account of my own unless I have a card of my own. I'm in no mood to add yet another card to my deck, especially one that's identical in all but one line of fine print to one I'm already carrying.
I guess I'll have to ask him for his password.
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And after I erased my password and wrote in his on my posted note, I downloaded my e-mail and got a notice that my account had been created.
Fawchunately, I still remembered what the password was.
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I'm beginning to fantasize about walking into a store and picking merchandise off the shelves.
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Counting last Saturday, I've taken three showers this week. I'm running out of pants that aren't freshly laundered, and I had to put oil on my hair.
And with any luck, I'll need to undress into the washing machine again next week. I think I'll wear my newest pair of slopping-around pants. Which will be a good excuse to postpone the application of tulip-print pockets.
I washed clothes yesterday; I'm not sure what I did with Sunday, aside from getting wet on my way home from church.
It was just sprinkling and I was thinking that it didn't matter that I'd forgotten my umbrella until, when I was standing in front of the last house before the house where I cross the street to our driveway, waiting for two people who had just gotten out of a car to get out of my way, it cut loose. Dave said that he didn't know I could run like that. (The people jumped back into their car and drove off.)
Today my biopsy results came back. As expected, I'm scheduled for Mohs surgery next month. But I'll drive to Fort Wayne rather than Elkhart. Divided highway almost all the way.
I have to get there by eight twenty. Which is forty minutes earlier than I usually wake up.
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Hey, the clock chimed half past eleven, and the cat hasn't yet nagged me for his eleven o'clock snack. I hope he isn't sick.
Al seems to be all right, but he sleeps a lot.
I just got an e-mail from Tour d'Lakes. It says that the event is still planned for July 18, but for the first time they are making alternate plans in case they have to choose another date. The Tour usually goes on rain, shine, or hazardous heat.
A link from their page informs me that Fat & Skinny Tire Fest 17 will be on May 21-23, 2021.
The Pumpkinvine Bike Ride will be June 19, 2021.
Amishland and Lakes is scheduled for July 25 & 26 this year, but they aren't sure.
Yesterday or the day before Dave saw a black elephant strolling across the lawn. I told him he was doing this hallucination thing all wrong — elephants are supposed to be *pink*.
Dr. McGheehan prescribed Gabapentin yesterday, and thinks it will help, but they have to dial in the dosage.
When we cleaned the freezer on the tenth, I put the turkey into the fridge to thaw.
We have been accustomed to going to eat someplace where I've never been on my birthday. Wondering how we could manage that this year, I said that we'd never ordered delivery from Pizza Hut, then remembered the turkey would be about due on the fifteenth.
It wasn't honestly thawed, and it took main strength and awkwardness to get the neck and giblets out, which turned out to be just as well.
The turkey was due to go into the oven at the same time as Dave's appointment. When it was almost time for him to leave, I looked at him, said "You are *not* driving yourself", put a lid on the roaster and put it into the fridge, jumped into my jeans, and grabbed a book.
He was feeling much better after the appointment and drove us home.
I was delighted, later on, to learned that the Economy Inn next to the neurologist's office had been shuttered before the shutdown for a drug problem. While waiting, I took a walk around the parking lots, walked behind the inn, wondered at the remnants of caution tape everywhere, decided not to circumnavigate the building because the restaurant in front was jammed with people picking up carry-out, and while I was walking back, someone came out onto a balcony to tell me I was in forbidden territory. I thanked her, went back to the car, and hadn't gotten very far into my book when Dave surprised me. I'd expected him to call my cell so I could come around to the door for him.
When I went into the kitchen this morning, the window was all white: snow on the ground, and still coming down fast enough to blur the lake.
We got up at half-past seven; that was the first time I woke up. Dave said he also slept well.
The turkey was delicious. According to the package, it should have gone into the oven at one thirty. I forgot all about it until two, put it into a cold oven with the lid on, then took the lid off an hour and a half later. It (and the potatoes duchesse) was done at five, so I turned the oven off and made gravy out of a cup of the giblet broth and put a thin slice of extra-sharp aged cheddar in it.
We ate most of the apple out of the crop cavity, but didn't touch the celery and shallot in the main cavity.
Potatoes duchesse is a way to dress up instant potatoes. Thickly-butter a small baking dish, crack an egg into it, beat the egg with a fork, add a cup of milk and a quarter teaspoon of salt, beat until uniform, stir in two-thirds of a cup of potato flakes, let set until thick, bake alongside the main dish. It comes out fluffy.
I found the missing half-box of stuffing mix: I'd put it into the fridge at the same time as the turkey. I plan to save it until we are getting a bit tired of the leftovers, then use it to shield left-over turkey from the drying heat of the oven.
I'll probably have to make more gravy by then.
I spent this morning making turkey salad. I learned that when one is chopping a lot of turkey breast with a knife on a small cutting board, one should do it in installments.
I'll spend tomorrow cooking frantically. I asked for one pound of ground beef; Dave ordered two one-pound packages — and we got two *five*-pound packages — and us with the bigger half of a fourteen-pound turkey in the fridge!
We'll start by having hamburger and cottage cheese (great with Lea & Perrins) for breakfast, then I'll make a pot of chili out of two pounds of hamburger, make the rest of that package into meatloaf, put some of the mixture into a loaf pan to bake tomorrow, and freeze the rest in sandwich bags. Dave plans to make and freeze some patties.
Still no yogurt, and we didn't get the wheat flour. But I still have lots of Bonneyville Mill white-wheat flour, and they did give us the package of bread mix that I asked for. And the mini-sweet peppers, carrots, and potatoes came through.
It's been windy for so long that I go to the garage to comb my hair without checking the weather. Which means that when I want to go out, I don't know how to dress.
I have a feeling that I've forgotten one of the vital chores I had to do today.
I was wondering whether I could ride to the animal shelter and make turkey salad on the same day. A glance out the window at the stiff windsock and whitecaps all over the lake settled *that*.
Weather Underground says that tomorrow will be a good day to ride if I get home in time for lunch.
The forgotten chore was pack my pills. Since I keep two one-week pill sticks, it isn't urgent.
I hope I didn't pack the loaf pan too full of meatloaf yesterday — it does boil a bit in the oven. I put three half-pound patties of meat loaf into the freezer.
I dug more onions to make the meatloaf. Again, fourteen scallions went into the produce bag. I wanted to replant just one scallion, but the smallest bunch I could split off without too much damage was two scallions.
I'd intended to cut up three or four scallions for the meatloaf and bag the rest, but when I was wondering how to get the long leaves into the bag, the dime dropped and I trimmed all of them and put nothing but greens into the meatloaf.
I dropped off the stoneware bowl at the animal shelter today, with a twenty-dollar bill in it on account of the fifty-six chihuahuas. Didn't see a soul, masked or unmasked.
Then I came home and sorted the canned cat food, so I get to take this ride again.
I didn't take notes on the ride — I was wearing a T-shirt instead of my jersey because I planned to undress into the washing machine and take a shower, so my notebook and flip phone were pinned into pockets and not at all convenient to consult along the way. But I'm pretty sure that I made better time on the way back than on the way out; the two dead animals on Wooster Road seemed closer together, for example.
It's amazing what a few snow pellets on your sleeves can do for average speed!
Shortly after turning around I reflected that I should have consulted the forecast again — the showers were supposed to start at two in the afternoon — but it was all pellet snow, and I could shake it off. The snow stopped about the time I got to Sunday Lane, at which time Dave texted me to say "It is snowing here." I replied "Stopped on Sunday Lane", then realized that that sounded as though I'd taken shelter on Sunday Lane, but I was more interested in getting home than in sending a correction. And he didn't get the message anyway.
We had a three-course dinner for supper tonight. The menu was "open pickled beets and chipotle sauce and point at the fridge". We each had left-over turkey, left-over meatloaf, and turkey salad.
The chipotle sauce was about the hotness of A-1, and I liked it.
I started the salad yesterday, but left peeling and chopping the eggs and chopping the turkey for today. I may chop some more turkey tomorrow, when I dis-assemble the carcass to get meat to bake under half a box of stuffing mix. We've barely started on the second side of the breast.
Despite not being able to see, I got most of Mohammed's signature in this shot. That was the one that was the most fun to embroider.
Blue and yellow signatures are from New Year's Day rides I led for the Mohawk-Hudson Wheelmen. One year we went straight for the cocoa and cinnamon toast, but a couple of people rode to the end of my driveway and back.
I've been known to consult the tablecloth when I forget what year we were married.
The key to the color-coded signatures. I keep reading "1969" as "1964", which really, really doesn't add up!
This is the cloth that I used to put on the table when I had someone in for a meal for the first time. I derived considerable amusement from contemplating the rule for entertaining famous people: "Treat him just like anybody else, and *don't ask for his autograph*.". How could I do both?
I wonder what Mom did with her autograph tablecloth? It saw a lot of use because it was the only one that would fit the dining table when it had all its leaves in.
When getting ready to go past the animal shelter, I found the pants that I mislaid on the ninth of April. When I was laying out clothes to wear to my very early appointment to get my broken crown replaced, I took my grubbies off so that I could try on pants I hadn't worn in years. After I took off and laid out the archive pants, I couldn't find my grubbies, and repeated searches in the ensuing weeks failed to turn them up.
I had hung them on one of my bicycle-pants hooks.
This morning I thought it time to get rid of the millet flour and planned cheese sauce on toast or crackers for breakfast, but there was too much flour for that, so I'm making a fried cake with cheese, sausage, winter onion, a mini-sweet pepper, wheat germ, lots and lots of butter . . .
Amazing what a jumbo egg can do for no-gluten flour, particularly when there's not much more flour than egg.
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The papers bin overfloweth, so I'm sorting papers to tie into bundles. The top six inches were mostly frozen-food boxes, but now I've excavated to a level where there are discarded ride maps every few centimeters. I used to print out my planned route and post it on the fridge for Dave. I'd print one for my pocket, annotate it (Google shows minor roads white on white), then scan it and print one for the fridge.
Papers piled and weighted, but none tied up and thrown into the dumping bin yet.
There is hardly any stuffing mix in the box. Enough to make a thin layer in a glass loaf pan, I think. I've chopped a stalk of celery and brought it to a boil in the left-over giblet broth. Looks as though it's about right for the dressing; I can add some jelly from the roasting pan if it isn't enough, and I'll beat a jumbo egg into it before adding the stuffing mix in case it's too much. When it's baked, it should be a bit wetter than the stove-top instructions say.
I think I'll make three piles under the dressing: white meat, dark meat, and corn.
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Corn and other veggies. I covered only the meat with the dressing, and used turkey skin to shield the vegetables.
And it's almost time to take it out of the oven . . .
AAAGH! I forgot to put in the mashed potatoes. Ah, well, I can microwave them — it's plain potatoes this time.
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The potatoes were a tad runny, but Dave likes them that way. We both overate, me more than him.
Dave says he has gained weight.
I'm one fifty-six even, about twenty-six pounds of surplus fat. I think that I weighed half a pound more last time.
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We just sent in a grocery order to be picked up at four o'clock this afternoon. It's been two or three days up until now. Dave commented that we're spending a lot on each order.
That's partly because there aren't any small orders, partly because I don't walk around the store looking for bargains, and partly because I'm not sure I'll get what I ordered, so I order both great northern and dry limas.
So far, we haven't gotten either.
They aren't on the order even though Dave remembers adding them. (We printed out the list this time!) I told him to forget it, since we wouldn't get them anyway.
Perhaps they added a subroutine to delete items the personal shopper is certain not to find.
I hope we get the flatbuns this time. I'm planning hamburgers for supper.
I'm not anxious about the red-wheat flour; I haven't had time to bake.
We had the burgers on Hillbilly bread.
I was hoping to bake the bread mix today, but the wash is clogging up my central processing unit and I don't have enough spare brain to follow a new recipe. I could make a loaf of white-wheat bread,
Speaking of practice: I think it odd that practicing something usually means that you can do it faster, but the better you get at loosening-up exercises, the longer it takes to do them. And the same is true of some strength-building exercises.
It's surprising how hard it is to resist the urge to move faster. I suppose that that is the appeal of doing exercises in large groups, with a teacher setting the pace.
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I did bake the bread mix after my nap. The timer dinged for "form into a loaf" when I was halfway through eating pizza, so I dallied a bit. I also forgot to turn the oven down after five minutes, so it cooked a bit faster than it should, but it came out all right.
I am royalty!
My crown has arrived, and I'm getting it installed at noon.
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After I signed in, they told me to keep the pen.
They should have laid in a supply of golf pencils.
The crown wasn't built quite right, so Dr. Hollar had to grind a bit, but it seems to fit fine. I crunched up some crisp pizza for lunch — nervously after all this time of favoring a temporary crown.
We have made a dent in the "10-Grain" bread. I had an egg with sausage and cheese mixed in on a slice of it for breakfast.
And turkey salad on ten-grain this morning.
It's lucky that I had an impulse to push the cultivator around the garden yesterday. There was a waterfall coming off the low spot on the back gutter this morning
The soil in the main part of the garden was almost too wet, but the asparagus bed is loose because I mulched it with ground corncobs after the producing season was over.
When I cultivated yesterday, there were four sprouts on three roots. Today's rain may bring up more. I think the extant sprouts will be ready to pick in two warm days. When I cultivated, the multipliers were doing well.
I sorted the egg cartons I save for a woman at the fairgrounds farmer's market this morning. They tell a story: for most of the winter, I bought eggs everywhere except Martin's. Now that Dave does all the shopping, eggs come *only* from Martin's.
That isn't obvious to the bystander: whenever they are available, we buy Creighton eggs, which are hard to find in other stores.
The courthouse market will open next Saturday, food vendors only, social distancing. I think that there should be *one* artisan's booth, selling masks. But somebody would have to recruit unemployed people who have sewing machines, collect the masks, and keep track of what was sold. That's a lot of work.
No clue about the fairgrounds market. The powers that be don't admit that it exists. Even the beleaguered county fair doesn't admit to renting out booth space. Only three booths are left, which stay because that is where their customers look for them. And the courthouse market charges a lot more for a booth.
The county is doing well. Three new cases and six recoveries since the previous report.
And, in a sense, one less death. When repeating the headline to Dave, I cleared up a confusion by saying "There were two, and there are still two."
But upon reading the story, the second death has been shifted from "died of plague" to "probably a contributing factor, maybe, but nobody did a test".
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Dave was eager to see whether the bread mix came in other flavors, but his ardor cooled a bit when he learned that it's six dollars a loaf.
I should dump all my weird flours in together and make my own ten-grain recipe.
I am now pre-registered for the Saturday, 17 July 2021 Tour des Lakes.
I've got the map. I could have Dave drop me off in Syracuse in July and ride alone. Wouldn't be any refueling stops; I was planning to spend at least half an hour at Pizza King, but I doubt that hanging out in a restaurant would be advisable even then. In this county, the plague has its running shoes on, but it's still lacing them up.
Undressing into the washing machine occupies almost as much drying rack as a full load of wash.
I went to look at the farmers' market, but tried not to mingle. I don't think anybody got too close, but I decontaminated anyway.
Only food vendors were allowed, but I was disappointed that they didn't make an exception for a booth selling face masks.
I saw one booth as I passed the fairgrounds. I think that it was the woman who wants my egg cartons; I didn't turn into the driveway.
We aren't celebrating Dave's birthday because I forgot to put cooking chocolate on last week's list. He took a rain check on the cake.
Today is a bad day to make yummy sweets anyway. Sugar aggravates his hallucinations, and we went to the emergency room yesterday. It wasn't temporal arteritis, but it took them all afternoon to be sure of it. His CAT scan was the same as the previous one, he said.
If you get symptoms of temporal arteritis, you need a steroid shot STAT, so we weren't taking any chances.
So I was too tired to edit the Banner when we got back. I don't remember what my excuse was on Thursday, when it was due. I think I started and didn't finish.
Yesterday I rode to the animal shelter to drop off two cans of food Al won't eat. I went the shortest way — out Pierceton and back on Wooster — and was gone only an hour. When I got back and leaned my bike on the shelves where I keep bike stuff and donations, I saw an entire box of canned food Al won't eat. Some I bought on purpose, as part of an assortment that I couldn't buy separately.
We had one of the meat-loaf patties for supper tonight. It gave out so much juice that it (and the vegetables I put around it) was boiled rather than steam fried, but it was very good and we ate all of it. I put it still frozen into a cold skillet with a tight lid and left it over low heat for an hour, turning over halfway through.
And we had a side of two blanched asparagus spears. There are more to pick tomorrow.