I'm just now getting around to Friday's paper. One of the headlines on page 5A says "Islanders Who Suffered 1940s War Atrocities On Guam Get Paid".
Nothing like prompt justice! Anybody who was an adult in 1940 is a hundred or more today. One person interviewed said the money would be very welcome because her pension didn't go very far; another said that it was her late parents who needed the money.
A puzzle solved. I've long noted that plain diced tomatoes make an excellent substitute for salsa, but seasoned diced tomatoes are very blah unless you add almost as much chopped raw vegetable as you have tomato.
A day or two ago, Dave had reason to read the ingredients: In addition to basil, garlic, and oregano, they put in sugar.
I've been wondering for some time how I'd go about making those tomatoes edible — I have two cans. While typing this: "Well, duh! What do you do with canned goods that you bought by mistake?".
So I took them out to the garage and put them on the shelf where I keep stuff I plan to give to Our Father's House.
And, come to think of it, I'm going that way tomorrow. I meant to turn at McKinley Street, but I can cross the railroad at Bronson Street. Which will bring me perilously close to Warsaw Health Foods, where I buy candy.
#
Wednesday's paper reported Mayor Thallemer's discussion of covid-19 readiness, and said "Thallemer said one issue could be having a place to quarantine a significant amount [sic] of people if there's an outbreak. He said that got him thinking about if the city should be thinking about what facility could be used for that purpose."
"Quarantine" means herding a big crowd of people into one place?
Quarantine is putting a sign on the door that all deliveries should be made by leaving the package in the driveway, and all payments must be done by electronic transfer. Instead of looking for a gym and a bunch of cots, he should be looking into plans to supply people who weren't prepared to hermit up.
Cool! The house and the trees are casting frost shadows.
Just as I did last Sunday, as I was walking past the park, I remembered that my shirt is hanging on the coat rack at the church.
Yesterday, I did drop off the canned goods at Our Father's House, and also two pairs of unwanted socks.
But I didn't go to Warsaw Health Foods and buy candy; I went to Carniceria San José and bought vegetables and hot sauce. Thence to Lowery's (also on Winona Avenue), where I bought their last two pairs of "Super Snips". I had realized that they fit beautifully into a cough-drop tin with needle, thread, and thimble.
I'd been thinking about skipping the library, but I crossed High Street right after crossing Detroit, and thought that that was as good a place as any to cross the railroad. I got a bookmark with the Emporium hours, the first comic-format book I noticed for Dave (we agree that "Too Much Coffee Man" is lousy), and McKillup's _Winter Rose_.
Next to Brush & Board on Buffalo Street, which proved to be a school and not very interesting for window shoppers.
All I bought at the Bazaar at the United Methodist church was a bar of beeswax (very cheap!) and a sloppy joe sandwich.
I came home by way of Walmart, and got in just barely before the end of civil twilight. That was partly because I lost track of time, and partly because I spent an hour and a half getting mud and straw off my wheels after walking through the construction. I didn't realize how much time I'd spent doing that until I was transcribing my notes.
I must remember to scrub my braking surfaces before the hose freezes again.
We went to the China Palace for supper tonight, for the first time in ages. The food is better than we remember it, and we speculate that they got one of the Great Wall's cooks when it closed. They did get one of the waitresses.
All the wash fit into one load today. I think it was three last week.
I remembered that you have to eat a little less than you want at a buffet. Dave didn't.
We have put the humidifier pot away for the summer, because Dave is boiling down maple sap. He's about to finish his first batch tonight — and watching it like a hawk.
When looking out the window to see him coming in with another jug of sap, I noticed a red flash in the herb bed: The rhubarb is up.
How come the young leaves are red, and the mature stalks aren't? I *know* that it was red when I bought it. I put superphosphate on it last summer; perhaps the stalks will stay red this year.
Just looked it up. Phosphorus deficiency makes leaves turn purple; if the rhubarb is short of something, it's something else.
Yesterday we had perfect weather for scrubbing rims, but I was tired and decided today would do.
Stand on the upwind side of the house wielding a hose when it's windy and thirty-eight degrees? Today would *not* do.
I have until Thursday evening. The only dry day predicted this week is Friday.
I scrubbed the rims yesterday. I got some more straw out from under my fender.
I've been eager to get new cycling sandals before spring because my old pair has stretched out so much they don't fit without thick socks.
So I was delighted, when in Walmart, to see sandals that lace to the toe, and bought a pair.
This morning I thought I'd take a ride around the block to see whether the soles are thick enough — and realized that I'd tried the new sandals on while wearing three pairs of thick socks.
Oops.
On my way home on Friday, I picked up a "WooHoo!" package of ubriaco cheese. Today I DuckDucked "ubriaco" and learned that it's cheese aged in wine. The first two sites I looked at say the recipe dates back to the first world war, when farmers hid wheels of cheese from hungry soldiers in barrels of wine.
Yeah, right, a foraging soldier would *never* investigate a barrel of wine!
I arrived at church late on purpose today, wiped the door handles and gaskets, washed my hands again, changed the ice trays, went up and down the back staircase four times, and walked home.
Having skipped my nap on Friday, I didn't feel like shopping on Saturday, but I reflected that I can't shop on Sunday and we are getting low on milk, so I drove to Owen's intending to buy enough stuff that I didn't have to come back for a couple of weeks.
The parking lot was full, but when I was ready to leave, I found a check-out who had nothing to do and was glad to see me.
They were out of milk, so I bought two half-gallons of whole-milk buttermilk, thinking we could drink that and save our remaining half gallon of milk for cereal. It turned out that there is so much corn starch, tapioca, locust-bean gum, and carrageenan in it that you could eat it with a fork.
It does, however, make a fair substitute for yogurt, and they were still out of yogurt — I'd tried to buy some on the way back from Duck Down and Above and struck out. There's an ample supply of yogurt-flavored puddings in containers of the same size, shape, and logo, so it takes a while to be sure there is no real yogurt.
I'm pretty sure there is some powdered milk in one of the boxes at the left end of the freezer.
Found it! But there is less than a cup. We have two containers of powdered buttermilk, but that is strictly for baking.
Only one can of evaporated milk. I had that on my Aldi list because Kroger milk cans can't be opened — they have to be punctured like soda cans — but I should have looked. One of the other brands might be openable.
But I have to shop again anyhow. When I filled my pill boxes this morning, I discovered that I have only enough fish oil to last until Friday.
And while I was typing, Dave bought milk at Freedom Express.
⁂
Cute story in the comments on Breaking Cat News: a group that was trapping feral cats encountered a possum that figured out that unwanted possums would be released on sight, the traps were checked at least once per hour, and the canned cat food in the trap made a good breakfast.
Restaurants are closed for six weeks. With any luck at all, the pandemic will be a long way from over at that time. The idea isn't to stop the virus —that can't be done— but to slow it down enough that the number of people who need ventilators doesn't exceed the number of ventilators.
Church activities are cancelled through April first. I'll continue what I did last Sunday: as a member of the fellowship committee, I have a key.
Well, next Sunday I'll exercise on the front staircases. And I won't snitch a doughnut hole to bring home to Dave.
Tractor Supply sent an e-mail saying they won't close. I'll go there on Saturday — the long way around — and buy canned cat food. One doesn't have to go close to anyone at Tractor Supply.
I could have stocked up when I shopped on Saturday, but I thought that we had a vast oversupply of canned cat food. We did, but that was weeks ago.
Keeping my endurance up is even more important now, but riding without going anywhere is boring. I have one motivation left: it's been years since I rode around Winona Lake, and work has been done on a dam that I can see from the bridge. To bring it closer to enough exercise, I can take a picnic lunch to eat in Tippy park after crossing the Chinworth Bridge, then come home by 200 N and Fox Farm. There won't be anything to see at The Farm this early — they open when the first corn comes in — but I can observe the lack of anything to see.
Dave bought my fish oil online.
We picked up the truck this morning. I stayed outside, wondering why there was an abandoned red-plastic chicken-watering fountain in a corner of the parking lot. Or maybe it was a feeder; it had a lid, rather than an outer case.
I decided to come back around the south end of the lake, and promptly missed a turn and got lost. I had the Garmin set on "go home", but hadn't the faintest clue as to which way was north, so I felt disoriented —disboreased?— even on roads that I knew.
I needed the driving practice, and saw some interesting back roads when I missed another turn and had to loop around.
But I started wanting my nap earlier than usual.
Had some more disorientation searching for the Garmin manual. Dave found it and put it on my desktop. There is no mention of an arrow pointing north in the manual; I had thought I just didn't know how to see it.
When I came home, Dave said I'd been gone four hours. The ride had something else in common with my four-hour fast: when I come into the kitchen at night, I keep thinking "Ah, walnuts/dried fruit/chocolate/buttermilk — no, I *can't*."
And when planning where to go next, I kept thinking "and that route goes right past — no, I *can't*."
Sherman & Lin's had a sign up saying "TP 99¢". I didn't go in to see per what.
I fast from ten o'clock on because I take a pill on an empty stomach at 2:00.
My hands got chilled while I was eating a sandwich with bare hands, sitting quietly in a cold breeze. It has been my experience that chilled extremities won't warm up until you sit inside sipping cocoa with your shoes off for a while, so not very far up 350 W, I turned around and went back the way I came, but my hands were warm again before I got very far along Chinworth Bridge Trail. I had forgotten that the chilled toes happened when the water in my drinking bottle was frozen.
I met a family walking a dog on my way to Tippy Park, and met them again on the trip back — while I was eating, they had walked to the end of the trail and turned around. They had shown no inclination to avoid me when I'd met them before, so I went a social distance into the lawn and waited for them to pass.
I overtook another dog and family about three fourths of the way to Zimmer Road. Getting past them at all would be a problem without keeping a social distance, so I slowed down planning to follow them, then they came to a place where the trail turned sharply to the right and it was possible to ride on the lawn, so I cut the corner.
While feeling somewhat guilty about damaging grass that couldn't recover, but with the ground frozen, at least I wasn't leaving tracks.
I did the dam ride instead of going to Tractor Supply; it turned out that there was two weeks worth of canned cat food in another cupboard.
I've got another motivation: When crossing County Farm Road, I realized that I've never gone to Miller's Merry Manor to see whether one can recognize any of the old county-farm buildings; they are said to have refurbished some of them and put them back into service. But it's less than four miles away.
Google Maps Satellite View doesn't show any building that doesn't look recent. And no hint of a garden for the inmates to exercise in.
Went to church, wiped the gaskets, and went up and down all four staircases.
Lovely morning for a walk, but it's snowing now (half past seven).
Not as fast as it was snowing earlier; there's a tad over an inch on the picnic table. (I stuck my pocket ruler into it.)
The trees are all frosted with snow — lovely out there when you look at it from in here.
There is less snow on the ground than there was when I went to bed, and the frosting has fallen off the twigs and smaller branches.
The buds on the daffodils under my window look more advanced than they did before the snowfall. That's partly because they are no longer straight up and down among the leaves.
⁂
Today's Matt cartoon was cute: A park with a sign saying "KEEP OWNERS ON LEAD", and two dogs restraining their owners from getting too friendly.
Today was the last day the dentist office would be open, except for emergencies. I heard a clerk telling someone on the phone that they would take a name and call when they resume making appointments.
Dr. Hollar said the folks who make crowns are semi-closed; he said they'd call me to make an appointment when the crown came in and if I didn't hear by the end of April, I should call.
And I should call the emergency number if the temporary crown loosens or comes off.
And I'm hungry, my mouth is still numb, and there's no soup in the house. Not that I'd have opened a can; I don't *like* canned soup. Prospecting for something to flavor white sauce, I saw the cans of diced tomatoes and thought of breaded tomatoes.
⁂
So I put some bacon grease into my six-inch skillet, then added enough stale-bread cubes to cover the bottom, rather a lot of V-8, salt, pepper, and a teaspoon of the vinegar off pickled garlic. It was very good.
Speaking of pickles, I've already begun to prepare for Race Day. I found some disposable pickle forks in Dollar Tree, then later I found a bag of disposable round containers of just the right size at Dollar General.
Alas, it may be the end of May before I can go poking around in dollar stores again.
⁂
When we lived in Indianapolis, I loved to go to the Mutual China Company and buy Blue Denmark dishes. Then Mom moved into smaller quarters and gave me all of her Blue Denmark dishes, which are of a higher quality than the ones I bought because the company was already going downhill.
Now all I use in the way of dishes is two dimestore-china salad plates; I'd prefer the cupboard space to the Blue Denmark dishes, except for two soup plates that a different company copied from the same source. They are smoothly curved inside, and perfect for dry cat food.
I wish I could buy curved-bottom dessert dishes for canned cat food. I've been thinking of looking at cut-glass dishes — the cat-food dishes are always in view and I never see my cut-crystal peopleware — but the factory is closed for the duration.
I should have been advertising the Blue-Denmark dishes. I can't unload Mom's wedding china because nobody throws that sort of dinner party, but the Blue Denmark is suitable for everyday use.
Well, I don't know what you'd do with the soup tureen. I've never used it myself, since soup tastes better served out of the cooking pot. Maybe put a punch ladle in it and set the demitasse cups around it? (Mom bought tiny dishes to set her miniature dining table, just in time for the grandchildren to get too big to sit at it.)
But the platter the tureen sits on is excellent for serving turkey. And the platter the gravy boat sits on is a relish dish; I think I have two of the relish dishes, in case of serving gravy and pickles at the same meal.
The wedding china goes as a set, but you can pick subsets out of the Blue Denmark.
⁂
My tongue is finally getting less sore. He told me it was the cheek that he'd pinched!
The hygienist remarked that her mask looked like a duck bill. I said it was a Disney duck. She replied that to make it worse, her name is Donna.
I just got an e-mail from Lowery's. They are open from ten until one, but the door is locked. You set your sewing machine or vacuum down, call the number posted on the door, and the repairman comes out and gets it. They went on to assure us that the machine will be thoroughly disinfected before being given back.
You can also buy vacuum bags etc. It hastened to add that you can buy new cleaners, and mentioned a "Sobo" that has hospital-grade filtration.
Weather Underground says that tomorrow will be sunny, dry, and not a lot of wind: perfect for drying clothes on the line. I've put a load of towels and cleaning rags in the washer to soak overnight.
I didn't check the humidity — it's high enough that you can see it. And the sun hasn't come out yet. But the towels and rags are on the line.
I added only a hat and fuzzy slippers to my indoor costume: a cheap T-shirt and sweat pants that have worn thin. I was a little cool, but in no hurry to get back inside.
Fun Fact: Spam was invented in 1937, and a hundred million pounds of it was shipped to the troops starting in 1941. That's getting off the ground fast!
The billionth can was produced in 1959, the two billionth in 1970, three billionth in 1980, five billionth in 1994, seven billionth in 2007, eight billionth in 2012.
I think maybe the Banner is getting stir crazy.
We'll go out Saturday to pick up an order that Martin's is going to leave on the curb for us. Weather Underground says that we'll have a thunderstorm to do it in.
And after picking up the order, we sent in another for everything we'd forgotten, to be picked up on Tuesday.
Which took up the rest of the afternoon; I got down for my nap just barely in time to wake up in time to fry hamburgers for supper. Dave had ordered three pounds, so I'm going to have to make meatloaf tomorrow. Well, it's going to make meal planning easy for a while!
What took the biggest chunk of time was ordering cat food. Fancy feast is the only food that's guaranteed to get Al's Cosequin down him, and to keep him from getting tired of it, I must make sure no two cans are the same flavor. When I shop in person, I just walk past the Fancy Feast display taking one can from each row, checking to be sure it's paté or "classic", and checking to see that there aren't two rows of the same flavor. On line, I had to read descriptions of every cat food Martin's sells, ten pages! But as the pages went past, I got quicker at rejecting unsuitable food. "5.5 oz.", for example, jumps out at you. Feed him a five-ounce can of something and he doesn't *ever* want to see it again.
It must have taken ten minutes. But there are a *lot* of flavors of Fancy Feast, and one can gets four doses of medicine down him, so this order should do until I can go shopping again.
It's even harder to find real yogurt on line than on the shelf. Dave put it on the order we picked up today, but they were out, so he ordered it again. Same for toilet paper.
There are whitecaps on the lake and the wind sock is standing straight out. I combed my hair in the garage.
On the bright side of being shut in, my breakfast is an elaborate concoction featuring a hash-brown patty (browned and broken up), an egg, a mini-sweet pepper, and the tops of two winter onions. My Sunday breakfast is usually a candy bar eaten while walking.
I has out-gechickened. I washed a king-size sheet because the prediction for today was dry. But the wind sock is standing straight out.
It's only 9 mph at the moment, and there are hardly any whitecaps, but I'd have to pin to withstand nineteen, and that is very tedious. I sorta managed to drape the sheet over one of my drying racks.
Speaking of sheets, I still have my Youth Hostel sheet sack. I didn't like the sewn-in pillowcase that is advised, so I took my sack apart and sewed it back together without one. This was easy, because I hand-basted the side seams. The gusset in the official sack design makes it hard to fold flat, so I simply folded the hemmed length of fabric in half and sewed up the sides, securing the thread only at the bottom of the sack. When I get into bed, the seam opens up instead of tearing, and when I get out, the loose stitches that form the gusset aren't there as far as folding it up to put back in the pack is concerned.
The sack is long enough that one of the flaps can be tucked under the mattress, and the other one is folded over the blanket to keep it clean. (And to protect me in case the previous occupant of the bed didn't fold his sack down.)
I'm pretty sure there is an entry for sheet sacks in _Rough Sewing_; I must review and revise it.
In America, there is little use for sheet sacks; hostels are so far apart that they are useful only when near a destination. I spent three days in the hostel in Lake Placid once. The housefather was very lonely, which led me to retreat into the women's dorm.
Since I add clean sheets at the bottom of the pile, the sheet sack (with its thin towel) has worked its way to the very top, which keeps it in my face.
I should separate the towel into its component dish towels. A linen sarong is a much better towel: quicker to dry, covers more territory if someone walks into the shower room, takes up no more space than a towel, and can be used for other purposes. Such as carrying in one's purse to use as a skirt when watching the sun rise from a drafty peak on a day that will soon be very hot.
So I took the towel out of the sheet-sack bundle, and learned that it also included an extra-thin washrag. I put that back.
I did a really-neat job of seaming those dish towels together. Matched the plaid and everything.
Seven hundred and seventy-five lines! What do you expect when I have to stay in the house.
Well, reading it will give you guys something to do while *you're* stuck in the house.
⁂
I missed a dramatic entry. Sometime last week I baked bread. I forgot to take the cast-iron griddle, skillet lid, and bacon press out of the oven before I I pre-heated it to 450°. We tested the fire alarms — I particularly like the one in the hallway that whispers "fire" after each set of screeches, so you know which of its alarms has gone off — and we got the living room aired out.
The old alarm in the garage is too high-pitched. I couldn't tell which direction the noise was coming from, and Dave couldn't hear it until he was actually in the garage.
It's pretty good bread. Pity I don't have enough red-wheat flour to do it again. I have plenty of white-wheat flour, though.
Enough to last until Bonneyville Mill opens in May — if they open in May this year.
Race Day has been postponed until August, which I don't mind. August could do with a holiday.
⁂
Everything has been put away but the sheet and pillowcases. A while ago I rotated the sheet so it would dry in different spots.
I made the meatloaf this afternoon, and will bake it tomorrow evening. I'm planning on hamburger and cottage cheese for breakfast.
Boy, there were a lot of eggshells in the garbage I just took out to the heap. We usually have eggs for breakfast, I had an egg for lunch, and I put three eggs into the meatloaf.
I hope I get some garden work done tomorrow. The multipliers should be in the ground already.
⁂
Ooo, you *have* to read this cartoon: https://www.explainxkcd.com/wiki/index.php/2287:_Pathogen_Resistance
April Fool!
I forgot to close the March banner yesterday evening.
Also forgot to upload and edit the pictures I took of my autograph tablecloth. I did wonder why the camera is on my mouse pad.