I spent the whole morning mailing the Banner. Dave went to Martin's and bought hamburger, which I fried for supper, and a pork loin I mean to bake on Friday.
In the evening, I ordered pills to pick up tomorrow. I plan to stop at Kroger on the way back, and I'll try for a lipstick at Walgreen's on the way out. SPF 50 lipstick is hard enough to find that I should start looking while there are still months of use in my old one.
The lake is a mirror; predicted high of 79°. Looks like a good day to fetch pills.
We saw a lot of Beesons we hadn't seen for a while yesterday. I was too wound up to get to sleep until way late.
Today's goal is to dig up the edging around the rhubarb bed, and plant excess Italian oregano in the resulting trench.
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Dave's plan was to dig a straight line in front of the fern bed, so he can put in edging like the edging that he put along the azalea bed. That required me to dig the daffodils, which were in his way. I planted some along the wall, where the ferns will hide the fading foliage next spring, and put the rest into one of Kroger's re-usable curb-service bags. They filled it pretty full.
Then I went inside to lie on the bed while Alexa played "Take Five", and before I got up, Dave came in to say that someone had already taken the bag of bulbs.
I'm planning to let the daffodils and narcissus in the lily-of-the-valley bed that Dave wants to mow get a bit riper before I dig them. But I'd better keep a close eye, to get them while the leaves still show where they are.
Tomorrow is Farmers' Markets day, so I don't think I'll get much gardening done.
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I'm entering the receipts from last Saturday's ride into Quicken. The tape from Petsmart reminds me of a Broomhilda comic: Broomie is walking to the store, trailing a long strip of paper that is her shopping list. Gaylord says "You don't have to list each can of beer separately."
Since no two cans match, Petsmart *does* have to list each can separately. But I don't think that they really need to use four lines for each entry.
I came back from the farmers' markets by way of Walmart, just for the exercise. I bought a single-serve pizza at Walmart but, having had a cookie at the courthouse market and a sweet-and-salty bar at Chinworth bridge, I ate only half of it.
I learned that in 85° weather, two sandwich bags of ice are not enough, so I stopped at Meijer to buy a can of frozen fruit juice. They were out of no-pulp orange juice, so I looked for apple juice, and they were out of that too, so I bought apple-raspberry. It hadn't thawed when I got home, so I put it into the freezer.
I got to Bomy Singh's at exactly five, so I bought a medium container of chicken with mushrooms and a medium container of rice to bring home for supper. I thought medium containers were a bit small, but each was more than half full when I put it into the fridge.
I made asparagus creamed eggs — fried asparagus slices in the butter for white sauce, melted in some sharp white cheddar, added a chopped boiled egg — and stirred in the left-over curry as seasoning. And it was good.
We still have some rice.
Just hunted down the date of the fireworks: 3 June 2021.
I'm not sure whether to trust the page, though. It says the concert will be on the Tabernacle Lawn, which is now the foundation of a skating rink.
Not much wash — this is good luck: it's raining off and on, so I have to dry it on racks inside.
While helping Dave hunt for a pair of size 38 summer shorts that appear not to exist, I found the "fisherman's two-ply" socks that I knitted for his turn-out boots — twenty years un-needed. They fit me beautifully, but I don't think I'll ever have footwear that loose.
I also found his dress-uniform tie and the suspenders for his bunker pants. I dusted off his collection of ties and suspenders, and sorted them onto two hangers.
It's way past time to dump everything out of the out-of-season drawer and find out what's in it.
Dave's UPS screamed, so I shut down my computers and looked around for something I wouldn't have to stop doing if the lights went out. I saw a pile of tights that I'd dragged out of the closet on Saturday morning, while looking for something suitable for 85°F, and realized that there was no way I could hang them all up.
I untied the newspaper sleeve that has been hanging on one of the hooks in the closet for months, emptied the two hooks and four screws onto the bag of blankets on the sewing machine, got a drill and a screwdriver out of the kitchen, and installed the two hooks. Took five or ten minutes, after procrastinating for years. (At least I had, at some point, gotten around to obtaining and stashing the hooks!)
And now all the tights are in the closet, and none are at risk of falling to the floor.
I'm glad that this week's e-mail from Duck, Down, and above is still offering skinless duck breasts (which I don't like) as the special. It's supposed to rain all week, and I'm rather booked. There's a nature hike in the Boy's City trails tomorrow, the next day is my annual check-up, and sometime real soon I've got to drive to Aldi for heavy stuff.
Today was Lily Lakes and Stream's Spring Hike. The publicity director for Grace College was there, and I overheard plans to have two more hikes in the fall! I hope neither is scheduled for a day when I'm booked for something else.
I dug up two of the edging blocks around the rhubarb bed, and then was too tired to dig up the milkweed plant and move it to the south side of the house.
I tried again after my nap, but was unable to separate the milkweed from the sod. (Partly because it was ten minutes to start-to-cook time when I went out.) I did get two more edging blocks dug up. I plan to have Dave mow right up to the rhubarb instead of having a definite edge to the bed.
I got some white daffodils dug and given away before it was time to eat lunch and take a nap. Too hot to dig again after supper.
Didn't rain today, but I was glad I drove to Dr. Darr's office. I'd have arrived wet anyway!
I think that I'm *glad* that rain is predicted for Saturday, and I hope that I get caught in it — as long as I can see well enough to get off the road. (I'm thinking of an incident on my way from New Salem to Lake George, way back when. My bike shoes didn't dry enough to put back on until after I carried them up a hill in a wire pannier the following day.)
On the way back from the doctor, I stopped at Kroger to stock up on frozen food. I got home just in time to zap two frozen dishes for supper; it was pretty good considering there wasn't one moment of consideration or planning, just "Hey, we can zap those and warm up the left-over peas" while putting stuff away.
The gardening is urgent, but the sewing is vital, so I'll be sewing during the cool of the morning and working outside in the heat of the afternoon.
Yesterday, Dr. Darr gave me permission to stop taking omiprazole. This morning I realized that it's the lead-off pill in my "make sure I take all of them" ceremony.
Some adjustments must be made.
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No digging in the heat of the afternoon — just sewing. I got a veil off the sewing machine before starting the urgent pocket replacement, and that took all morning.
Yesterday, leaving the church while clean-up was still going on felt weird. I still don't know who took care of the dinner, but it wasn't the Fellowship Committee.
On Saturday, I was out from almost ten until about four in the afternoon, and either walking or riding the whole time, except for about half an hour at McDonald's, and I came home feeling fine — but in desperate need of a shower.
On Sunday, I was so tired walking home from church that I had to sit down and rest for a while. I found a suitable retaining wall when I was across the street from the playground. This is a trip that takes fifteen minutes when I'm in no hurry.
So I naturally meditated on what could make the difference. One obvious factor is that on Saturday, I had one medium fries for lunch, on Sunday, I pigged out, and then went back for a serving of fruit salad and samples of two more cheesy starches. I *noticed* that when I was walking home.
Another is that on Saturday I wore a long-sleeved linen shirt and ran water on the sleeves every chance I got. One time I squirted them with the bottle on my seat tube, and it was hot enough to hurt. (I never drank from that bottle!)
It may also mean something that I failed to empty my pocket flask on the way to church, and probably hadn't made up for it by time to go home. When emptying it on the way home, I wished that it had a little salt or switchel in it.
My pocket flask is an old mustard bottle that happened to be just the right size and shape, and can be drunk from without detaching anything. I put it into the fridge during the service; when I came down, it was missing and I had a horrible vision of someone squirting lime-juice water on his hot dog, but they had merely moved it to a shelf inside the door. The label being off probably warned them not to use it. But I just now put one of my return-address stickers on it.
Two loads of wash today. I slept so late this morning that I'll be lucky to get the whites on the line before nap time.
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I was tired and high winds were predicted, so I dried everything but the shopping bags on racks. And the bags were whipping vigorously when I took them down.
They look really nice, even the bag that I once dropped on the floor of the passenger seat, forgetting that my boots were down there and that I'd stepped in something very sticky and black. When I stopped at Kroger on the way back from Dr. Darr, I found an embarrassing stain on one and put it on the passenger seat so I'd remember to take it inside when I got home, and took the others into the store.
When I unpacked the groceries, I realized that all the bags looked as though they had been rattling around in a car trunk for a year and a half.
I noticed some fraying on the hems when I took them off the line, but they are still going strong. Those bags had been in use for years when we moved here in 2001; it's a pity that I can't tell you who made them so you can buy some. They were something like two dollars each — but we may have got a discount for the store's name being printed on them. I hear that the Super Valu sold out years ago, so the bags have lasted longer than the store they advertise. I bought the first one soon after the Super Valu opened.
It took three trips to get them back into the car. When I went out to take them down, I put my car keys into my pocket, intending to put them into the trunk without bringing them into the house. But when I walked around the house and saw the empty parking pad, I remembered that Dave had a prescription to pick up at Zale's.
Later on, I saw the bags in the parlor and took them out, but the car was locked and I had put the keys back into my other pants.
The third time I saw Dave standing out near the car and he always has his keys, so I took the bags out — and Dave locked the car thinking that he was unlocking it. There wasn't too much "Who's on first" before we got the trunk open.
This is the first time I've counted the bags in years. We have five. I think maybe there might be a sixth someplace where I put it and forgot about it.
Gardening today. I plowed a furrow across the empty part of the asparagus bed, then cut off all the bulbils that were sticking out into the lawn from the winter onions on the south side of the house, and planted them. Dave is mowing now; I think I didn't tell him that he can mow all the sticky-out bits now.
I finished out the furrow with bulbils from the winter onions in the garden — and also harvested some that are good for cooking and put them into the fridge so that they won't sprout. Then I put one cluster between the two clumps left in the row I put bulbils in last year, and decided that filling out the row could wait a few days. I may plant thyme and marjoram in the oregano bed after I've rested.
I think it's time to admit that the giant-garlic seed heads that I planted last fall are not going to come up, and plant something else.
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It's good that I didn't have energy to plant onions in the furrow — I've now remembered that I want to plant mustard there. Mustard would have been better for the asparagus bed, as it wouldn't interfere with mowing the dead stalks this fall.
The lost is found!
I somehow came into possession of three of the aluminum bodkins that Grandfather Bailey made for Grandmother. I don't use two of them much because I seldom thread anything half an inch wide, but the third has a slight curve at the tip that makes it perfect for flattening fabric just as it reaches the presser foot of the sewing machine. This curve was already polished when I got the bodkin, so I think Grandma used it the same way.
A few weeks ago it went missing. I thought it might have fallen into the drawer of the typewriter stand under the Necchi sewing machine, but it wasn't there, or anywhere.
Today I hunted for a nail clipper in that drawer, and lo and behold, at the back of the assorted-tools tray, there was the missing bodkin. So I've put it back behind the feed-drop peg.
I also have the fat-handle paring knife that he made when Grandmother's hands started getting stiff, and I'm pretty sure that the aluminum sleigh that he made for me after the cardboard-and-soapflake sleigh that I'd been given for Christmas fell apart is somewhere among the Christmas decorations in the attic.
Dave was almost done mowing when the mower got a flat tire. He went all over town before finding a place that can fix it — and they are going to take it to Smith Tire. But he'll have it back tomorrow afternoon.
Tomorrow we get our hard-moving door fixed! Dave has an early-morning appointment for tests, but I'll be home all day.
Our door works now, and Dave finished mowing the lawn. I planted thyme and marjoram in the oregano bed.
This morning our front door was measured and data gathered for an estimate on replacing it. The appointment for actually doing the work, he said, will be "way out there." I presume that everybody spent lock-down finding flaws in their houses.
New storm doors have a roll-up screen attached to the upper panel of glass, so that you just slide the glass down when you want a screen door. I hope this isn't still in beta, because it sounds really convenient — and liable to all the ills of window blinds, and harder to unjam.
Our new door will look much like the old one, except that the design embossed on it is in the current fashion. The man was very big on "making the house look new". When he talked about getting more money when you sell it if the front door looks good, I refrained from mentioning that when we can't live here any more, selling it will be somebody else's problem. Not to mention that the lot would be more valuable without a house on it; all the rest of the houses on the lake side of the street are mansions.
I spent the morning preparing to go out — in anticipation of tomorrow's bike ride, I thumb-tested my tires, neatened my panniers, refurbished my emergency-food bag, filled four sandwich bags with ice cubes and re-filled the ice trays, and collected herbs to boil with my tea this afternoon.
I also neatened the go-bag I take to medical appointments. Somehow, this chore included putting away the dishes that Dave washed yesterday.
I should have made more fuss about today being my first quarter-century ride. Come five o'clock and I'm not home, and Dave started wondering.
Today's service was a report from missionaries — this time from support crew, who live in a city and don't do anything dramatic, but are vital to the mission. One is a teacher in the international school, and one is a nurse and helps foreigners speak to local doctors.
I thought the wash was all going to go into one load, until I remembered that I hadn't picked up Dave's shirts in the hallway.
I'm leaving the king-size sheet until next week because it's too windy to dry clothes on the line. I made four sheets to allow for such occasions.
It's getting a bit late for this tip here, so it's probably well past useful down south: If you cut a winter-onion bulbil in half lengthwise, then hold it in your right hand cut side up, and press the very edge with your left thumbnail, the tough outer layer pops right off.
Still takes a while to shell a whole bunch of the tiny things, but they are strong enough that you don't need a whole bunch.
I hope some are in eating stage when I make cheese dip for July 3rd. I'm going to put jalapeño and garlic in it this year.
I wish I could buy real pimentos. They were the common type of pepper when I was little, and mangos were special. You'd think one of the farmers at the markets would be growing pimentos.
Too late now: I should have looked at the pepper plants at Open Air.
In the evening, I duck-duck-goed "pimento". One website distinguished between "pimento" and "pimiento" by giving byte-for-byte identical definitions. There were other signs that it was a scraper site. Sometimes something is so bad that I regret not being able to find it again.
Spent the whole morning at the hospital for an EGD. The initials are supposed to be easier to remember than the long words. I remember the initials by remembering Esophagus Gastro Duodenum. But I can't remember esophagogastroduodenoscopy.
Or pronounce it.
But I just realized that I can reconstruct it: just connect the words for gullet, stomach, and upper gut together with "o"s and tack on "scopy".
Dave is legally impaired for the rest of the day, but otherwise everything is back to normal.
And it's time for my nap.
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On my way out of the kitchen, I noticed that the bottom drawer in the kitchen was ajar, brushed it with my ankle, and it closed!
I'd been complaining for weeks that the bottom drawer was hard to close; on Monday, we noticed that the problem lay with the drawer above it: a support had broken, and it rested on the bottom drawer.
When I came back from shopping yesterday, I found Dave elbow deep in trying to screw a block to the back of the cabinet to replace the broken support, and wishing that he had a longer screwdriver. He discovered that his electric screwdriver has a long handle and managed to finish the job, and now everything works. It must have been hard to find out precisely where to put the block.
I went to Aldi yesterday and bought, among other things, chips and soda for the fireworks party. I bought the soda first, packed it in the trunk, and then went back to spend $100.19 on crushables and things that come in smaller packages. The second time through the clerk said "Did you come through here earlier?" She was worried about her eyesight.
No, I'm not expecting to serve a trunkfull of soda; I like to keep a generous supply of seltzer on hand — and that habit paid off big the winter before last!
I sat out the whole peroxide shortage because I keep a back-up bottle in the laundry room.
I finally got "dig narcissus bulbs" off my list of urgent chores. I'm sure I missed some; I'll dig those when they first come up next spring.
The offensive circles of Round Up in the park appear to have been covered with asphalt. I'll wager that they still didn't kill the poison ivy on the sycamore tree.
I was surprised to calculate that it took me only fifteen minutes to ride home from Kroger. There was such a stiff headwind that I didn't even try to sprint through the village, and it took *ages* to cross Winona Avenue.
Didn't buy anything at the farmers' markets. Chickened out of the side trip to Open Air because the rain was supposed to come back at three o'clock, and I planned to stop at Kroger, but when I left Kroger at half-past one the sun came out and it's pretty nice, albeit overcast again, now. But there's a tornado warning out.
I bought yogurt for the garlic-chive dip. I already had everything for the cheese dip.
I should make it to KCH by ten tomorrow — my clothes are laid out and my go-bag is packed. I dithered over my book. I want to finish reading _Gaudy Night_, but Analog is much thinner, and the bone-density test will probably be at Women's Imaging, where they get me in and out before I was supposed to arrive and I never get my book open. (I'm taking the darning kit and magnifying glasses anyway.)
I thoroughly re-arranged the bag because they said "no metal" and every pair of pants that has pockets also has brass or steel hooks. (Not to mention that most of the stuff that goes into the pockets has metal in it.) I took most of the stuff out of my little bag of stuff so that I could put my wallet and my ointments in. (Lipstick, sunscreen, and A+D.)
And I arranged things so that I can take them out and put them back through the top, without laying the bag flat and opening it all the way.
I stopped at Kroger on the way back from the bone scan to buy eggs. I also got a carton of "oat milk". I was much surprised to find "gellan gum" among the ingredients. Oat groats boiled in water would make a tea much thicker than this "milk" all by themselves. Even isolated oat bran has some thickening power. But I *can* taste oats in it. I think that the only way I could have almond milk with a detectable almond flavor would be to make my own.
According to what I've read on the Web, that's easy: soak raw almonds in cold water for two or three days, run through a blender, strain. One site suggests using a tea strainer and then a fine cloth, and oven-drying what the coarse strainer catches to use for breadcrumbs, and drying the catch of the fine strainer for flour.
Three cups of water per cup of almonds for milk, less than that for cream. At eight dollars a pound for almonds, the milk would be rather expensive.
My chore for today was to weed the garden before it rained again. It's raining, and only one row has been weeded.
On the other hand we cleared off all the stuff that had been stored on the benches and Dave hauled them to the back yard, and I packaged all the stuff I intend to take to Our Father's House, ready to put on the bike Saturday morning. I found some stuff I'd forgotten about.
There's more than I can haul in one trip.
On the third hand, now I have no place to put the four pitchers that we can't use and don't want to throw out. Perhaps I should photograph them and paste the pictures into the Banner.