Today started off with a bang. While preparing to fry his breakfast, Dave dropped a newly-refilled glass bottle of corn oil. Now our newly-emptied trash bin (it's trash day) is nearly half full of newspaper-wrapped crumpled newspaper.
And I'd dressed in not-for-dirty-work clothes because we plan to go to Martins right after breakfast.
I had a sausage patty on a flatbun with swiss cheese, fresh basil, and garlic-chive scapes. Dave's breakfast was somewhat delayed.
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When Dave finished breakfast, he realized that it was too late to go to Martin's and get back in time for his appointment.
I'm going to go sock-shopping at the Village at Winona, then pick Kathy's tomatoes.
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Every time I come back from picking tomatoes, I find a truck in the driveway. This time it was the roofer, leaving a roll-off to put the old roof in.
There are flashing lights at the new gas line. I'm going to bed instead of investigating.
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More work in the garage. We decided to put the fan back into the attic. When I opened the folding stairs, I found some bags that belong inside bags in the attic, that I'd put into the staircase intending to put them away when the car wasn't in the garage. After I got my head and shoulders into the attic while putting the fan up, I decided that putting the bags away could wait until September.
Pity the attic fan doesn't work.
I just realized that the "wicker thing" I set out by the road is actually a splint basket. I don't think I'll change the sign, unless it's still there when I get back from Open Air tomorrow. We have used that hamper as a table beside the porch chairs, but not often enough to be worth the garage space.
The straw that set the garage-cleaning in motion was Dave's desire to move the recycle bin a few inches so that he wouldn't bump his arm on it every time he went in or out. When I brought the bin in this morning, I discovered that it's also easier to put the bin in its new place.
You would think that moving everything north would cramp my bike's parking place, but now I can simply lean it against the wall, instead of sort of buttoning it into its space.
It helps that we got rid of the woodbox where we used to keep bags of cat litter, and put the air compressor under the table instead. The woodbox wasn't out by the road very long.
There's still a bag of Beck's Better Bedding, and part of a bag of pellet bedding in the garage.
We went to Martins this morning, and got back early enough that I could haul the stuff I had packed up for Our Father's House before nap time.
There was a "no donations" sign on the door — unlike Goodwill, they refuse donations instead of trashing them when the storage space is full.
I went inside and asked when she thought I might be able to bring in my old clothes and she said "Quickly! In the next two weeks." So I brought everything in and she was so glad to get the clothes that she took the rest of my junk too. I asked whether I could get rid of my surplus garlic there, and he said that their clients were particularly fond of home-grown garlic.
I wonder whether I can sort my closet before the two weeks are up.
Half the new roof is on, in one day. And not a sign that they were here except for the new roof, the roll-off, and a wheelbarrow of tools. They were *very* good about cleaning up as they went, and every time I went out a woman was rolling a magnet around looking for nails. And when I started out for Our Father's House, a man with a broom said "Wait, I'll sweep you a path."
I parked under a tree when I got back, and put the bike away after they left.
The sound of their truck engines when they quit for the day alerted me that it was time to feed Dave. He bought a pound of hamburger at Martins. I bought a six-pack of flatbuns, but we still had some of the previous batch.
We think the boxcar-size roll-off is overkill for the job. We peeked in, and half a roof barely covers half the bottom — though it's thick enough at one end that I think one could rake it out to hide the whole bottom. My theory is that using one size for every job is cheaper than maintaining a variety of sizes.
Dave said that Keith said that they delivered the roll-off to the wrong house yesterday, which made the home-owner somewhat wroth. It appears that his garage answers the description of our barn, and it *mattered* that that door was blocked.
I never realized that the barn doors on the street side of the shop make it look like a garage.
Lovely day for a bike ride — for a while. It's been raining ever since I got back from Open Air.
I bought swiss chard, an onion, and four redskin potatoes at the fairgrounds market, then came home to empty my panniers. I stopped at the ice rink market on the way back, but I didn't see anything I wanted except cheese, and I couldn't find the prices for either display of cheese. And we'd bought colby at Martins, and I'd bought sliced swiss at Kroger.
Then on to the courthouse market, where I bought four "Grandma" cookies; ate one on the spot, one on the way home, and Dave ate one when I unpacked. Leaves one. Dave commented that his grandmother never made cookies, and I don't remember my grandmother doing it either. Alice once reminisced about the beef broth Grandma canned whenever we killed a calf. I remember Mom using soap Grandma had made. Never asked where Grandmother got the grease.
I nearly lost my way because I *always* go to the courthouse by way of the fairgrounds. It also felt queer to turn right onto Smith Street instead of crossing it when I left the fairgrounds. I was surprisingly uncertain of the way to Open air even though I'd recently passed it on my way to Walmart.
Which was a factor in today's trip. On the way to Walmart, my phone rang when I was on Foxfarm, and stopped before I found a post to lean the bike against. The sun was too bright to read my screen, so I ran back to where there was a hedge or windbreak along a driveway. Got out of breath doing it, which made Dave think something was wrong. Dave had dialed me while trying to do something else, but we talked a while and I heard an odd clucking noise, which I tracked down to a hen in a cage hidden in the windbreak. (Hidden, I presume, from the ferocious sun.)
I found the spot on Google Maps — the picture was taken in 2014, but the shape of the roads is distinctive — and it's a mile, more or less, from Open Air. I thought it would be pleasant to ride an extra two miles and visit the chicken.
But while I was fitting an entire flat of impatience into the panniers — I was sure I'd have two four-packs left over, but they all went — I kept getting hit with tiny drops of rain, and there was a gust of wind of the sort that runs ahead of a front moving in, so I went back the way I came.
Despite the occasional drops of rain, it was quite pleasant riding back, and I wished I'd taken the two extra miles — until the rain hit about the time I'd have been turning onto Winona Avenue if I'd gone.
While I was out having fun, Dave wore himself out cleaning the garage.
He felt better after sleeping through a Sherlock Holmes movie.
I spotted Pastor Bonnie in the narthex after the service, looking quite healthy. That was a pleasant jolt.
I got to church in time to wipe the gaskets before the service instead of after. To my surprise, the ice bin and all the trays were full. We don't use much ice when Kiddie Kollege is not in session.
Dave rotated the plastic shelves from the north wall of the garage onto the west wall, and now they are much easier to get into. I can reach the paper towels with a step stool instead of trying to weasel a roll out with the grabbers.
And now we know what's on the shelves.
He found five pitchers, or four and a coffee pot. (I didn't ask where.) I think tall skinny teapots were for serving coffee, but it might be a chocolate pot. I vaguely remember buying it, and I know that I used to make tea in it.
Whatever, two people don't serve drinks from a pitcher unless it's the sort of pitcher one keeps in the fridge for days or weeks.
Which reminds me of the huge pitcher Mom made Koolaid in, that could pour one more drink after it was empty.
Actually, Mom made Koolaid-based punch. It was quite a shock the first time someone gave me a glass of Koolaid with nothing in it but sugar and water.
There's an old joke: a wealthy lady called on another, and while they were chatting, the guest asked her hostess how her weight-loss diet was going. The hostess replied that it wasn't as much of a trial as she'd expected, then said that her cook made the most-delightful dish out of chard, "imagine it, chard!"
(details omitted) So the guest asked the cook whether she was willing to give her the recipe.
"Sure thing! First you melts a pound of butter ..."
I made a leftover fried chicken breast into creamed chicken for our supper, and for my bedtime snack, I fried the trimmings with the chopped stem of a chard leaf until the chicken was crunchy, then turned off the fire, stirred in the chopped blade of the chard leaf, put on a tight lid, and waited five minutes.
I can attest: chard steamed in fat is delicious.
I'm pretty sure I've never eaten chard before.
Garage cleaning turned up a folding chair we'd forgotten we had. Both chairs need a good scrubbing before we can use them.
We've agreed that it's time for the cross-country skis to go. They have old-fashioned bindings, but we also have the matching boots. And with ski boots, there is no problem if you have to wear three pairs of thick socks to make them fit. But if your feet are bigger than ours, you're out of luck.
I remarked that I want to keep one of the two pairs of ski poles, for walking on slick roads, which made him aware that he remembers putting the poles (which were on the plastic shelves he moved), but can't remember where. One of the pairs is bright blue, so they can't hide long.
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After much searching, including a trip to the barn, he remembered that he'd set them out on the porch to get them out of the way. We think we will store them on top of the skis. The boots are already up there.
I think we can dispose of Dave's chest waders. Haven't mentioned it to him yet.
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We wanted to celebrate our anniversary by going to Mad Anthony for lunch, but tomorrow he has an appointment in the morning and another in the afternoon, and lunch on a deadline didn't sound like much fun, so we went today.
When the bartender heard that we were celebrating our fifty-ninth, she gave us a slice of carrot cake. We brought most of it home. We also brought home part of the philly cheese steak. But we ate all of the waffle fries.
When the bartender saw that we'd eaten part of the carrot cake, she brought us a box so that we could keep the rest of it out of sight
We were the only customers I could see, but I think a table in the dining room was occupied.
11:20 AM 8/11/2023
Our patio has never been so clean.
That's the only line I can remember from the two entries that were lost when Windows evaporated a folder that I was trying to back up.
By good luck the previous back-up worked, so I didn't lose everything.
Tuesday we ate out, Wednesday the roofers tore the shingles off the west side of the house, Thursday they finished the job. The lawn was mowed on Wednesday, and I picked tomatoes. The mower left while I was picking tomatoes, so if you count negative trucks, I found a truck in the driveway when I got back from a tomato run for the third time.
7:19 PM 8/11/2023
Today I photographed the pitchers we found while cleaning the garage.
Dave washed the blue one and I mean to find room for it in the cupboard. The rest have to go.
The brown one is marked "Esther" on the bottom, presumably Dave's mother's sister Esther.
7:22 PM 8/11/2023
I've been making local backups with Explorer first, then uploading to the Web site. I should do that the other way around — Filezilla never puts a file in the wrong place, and never deletes without being told to delete.
(Windows did not delete; the folder simply vanished. I did look in the recycle bin.)
9:58 PM 8/12/2023
I read a discussion on Facebook searching for the anvil Dad made. Couldn't reply to say I don't have it. I do hope it turns up someplace.
I wonder whether the tailor's goose that propped open the staircase door is still around.
7:12 PM 8/13/2023
I picked tomatoes on the way back from church, and filled my resealable bag. There should be as many more on Tuesday. I'm going to have to make salsa or something.
Steve and Martha dropped in, and gave us a cinnamon-and-walnut cake. We split one slice, and I put nine slices in the freezer, in three sandwich bags. That still leaves a lot of cake.
I took the last bag of fourth-of-July chips out of the freezer and emptied it into a half-gallon semi-disposable container.
The chips are "Big Scoops"; I hope I remember to schedule a trip to Aldi just before the chili cook-off, because "Big Scoops" are tiny bowls. For once, I'd like to sample more than three or four of the soups!
9:59 PM 8/14/2023
Today's wash was overdue, and I also threw in a long dress, so the tub was about two-thirds full. I set the washer for "deep water", but it ran in just enough water to get the clothes wet; I've seem more water in it when I was washing seven pairs of underpants with the water level on "auto". Maybe "deep water" is adverspeak for "save water"?
It was threatening rain, which we got late in the afternoon, so the clothes are on two racks in the parlor.
Dave had a PET scan and a CAT scan today; got home just as I got up from my nap, and spent the rest of the day wondering why he was so tired when all he did was lie quietly.
Dave repaired the motor of our Farberware Open Hearth rotisserie today, so I'm going to ride to Aldi tomorrow and buy a small chicken.
Or something, depending on what's on offer.
I ironed the shirts I washed yesterday, but not the long dress.
Since Aldi is open all day, I didn't think there was any hurry about getting off.
I didn't get off in time to get back in time to get to bed in time to wake up in time to cook a chicken for two hours. We're splitting a Hungry Man dinner.
The chicken is stuffed with celery leaves, half an apple, most of a mini-sweet pepper, winter-onion bulbils, and a chunk of cold butter, trussed, and in the fridge in a twist-tie gallon bag.
I may have to re-do the trussing. Tying a wet knot is almost as hard as untying one. And an armlength of string is just *exactly* enough.
I stopped at Menard's first, where I saw eight-foot by two-foot wooden trellis panels that will do for repairing the raised herb beds if I don't find something better.
No truck in the driveway when I got back from picking tomatoes on the way home from church. I didn't get near as many as I picked on Friday.
Between keeping my basil plant from flowering and keeping Kathy's basil plant from flowering, I have a lot of basil leaves in the fridge. I chopped basil to have instead of lettuce on the tostada I had for lunch, and was surprised that the basil wasn't the least bit obtrusive. I expected it to be overpowering, but there were only hints of basil flavor.
Yesterday, I scored six on Spider One Suit. This required a certain amount of co-operation from the dealer, since six king-deuce piles leaves only four spaces to put six aces in, and you can't play an ace on an ace.
When I play with Dave's computer, I usually play One Suit because it's the shortest game, and leave it one click from won to deter me from playing another round.
It's too easy a game, so I passed a rule that a sequence once formed could not be broken. Recently, that hasn't been enough so I added the challenge of leaving more than one isolated ace at the end of the game.
Dave dug ten holes and I planted ten impatience plants in them. We still have a lot left.
Dave is still decluttering. He found some interesting stuff when he went through the little boxes on his shelves to find out what's actually in them. I'm pretty sure the big boxes on my shelves contain what the label says, but in some instances, I've forgotten what that means.
When Roomba complained that its brushes needed cleaning, we found that it had eaten one of my best pair of hose. I think that it will come out of the washing machine wearable.
The sock came out easily; the hair wound around the brushes was another matter. I think Dave was picking at it for half an hour. I *do* go outside to comb my hair. But I've been tying it back instead of braiding it for quite a while now. And I'm about to go to bed with it loose entirely.
It's about time I sorted the pile of "important but I can't deal with it this minute" paper piled on the treadle of the White sewing machine. Then when I leave my Sunday sandals to air on the treadle, the socks won't slither down to where Roomba can snitch them.
We got our new driveway today. I expected crushed stone, but we got crushed stone embedded in rock dust — a form of concrete.
It should have plenty of time to set up before it rains. Smucker told Dave that we need to spray weed poison on it. Dave told me that he's all ready, with poison in the sprayer.
I washed a sheet, five sweat rags, and some washrags today. Dried them in the sun.
And tomorrow I'll change the bed.
Scape production in the garlic chives is slowing down.
Scapes are hard to collect because the chives need thinning. Everyone who wants garlic chives already has some, I hate to dig up healthy plants and throw them away, and garlic chives are hard to throw away — you can't just drop them onto the compost heap.
While cleaning his bookshelves, Dave found a photograph album containing a picture he thought had been lost.
The lawn mower should come today. I should walk around the house looking for things left on the grass.
So I did, and found the yellow hose all over the lawn. While I was reeling it up, it caught under the wheels of the weeding seat, which we store on the bottom shelf of a set of plastic shelves on the patio.
When I lifted the stool to free the hose, I learned the hard way that there was a wasp's nest in the stool or something that it touches.
The only really troublesome sting is on the big toe of my left foot — it objected somewhat to putting my sandal back on. The base of my left thumb is red, but not much swollen. Calendula cream took care of various itchy spots.
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When my lavender bush failed to come back from pruning, I thought that I'd trimmed it too close, while gardening in the dark. (Freefall webcomic reference) (Freefall http://freefall.purrsia.com/ is a great comic; if you aren't reading it now, I envy you your archive binge.)
The poor thing was entirely dead before I realized that when I poured a bucket of water into the strawberry bed, I poured it into the middle and the lavender hadn't been getting any.
The lawn mower is more than half done. The sheet on the line didn't faze him any; he just ducked and rode under.
The dime finally dropped: instead of fighting and struggling to get the line as high as possible and still needing to pin up corners to keep it out of the grass, I simply draped the sheet over two lines that are three and a half feet apart.
We went to Goshen for a catheter change today — for the last time! Dave's blood work showed that he can have surgery, and there was an opening before his next catheter change.
At the Goshen hospital. I'll hate having to drive that far to visit him, but I was *not* inclined to suggest that we wait for a Warsaw appointment.
I don't like SR 15, but it's a simple route: Get on 15 and stay there until I see the hospital on my left.
We are still thinking about the wasps in the garden stool. Dave used the bamboo pole Claude made for raking debris off the roof to pull the shelves away from the wall,
Just then, Dave came in to tell me that he'd unhooked the bungee that held the stool in the shelves, and the stool was rolling free. There seem to be very few wasps in residence; perhaps those that I shook out of my pants in the garage didn't find their way back.
Later on, I blew some leaves and shingle grit off the patio with the indoor leaf blower, and gave the stool a blast. No sign the wasps objected, but any that flew out would have gone north at a high rate of speed. I retired inside hastily, just in case.
Turned out that the nest is under the bottom shelf, not in the garden stool. Shelves are on their side on the patio; we haven't decided on a next step.
Dave mopped under the dryer today. That required me to move the tablecloths into the bedroom and then back into the laundry room. I've got a *lot* of tablecloths — and I haven't put a cloth on the table since Dave refinished it several years ago.
And none of the vintage linen tablecloths fit our table. If you're planning to buy a tablecloth, look through our laundry room first.
I had a major disaster yesterday. After my trip to the tomato festival, I came home soaked in sweat. So I decided to wash my beautiful new yellow jersey for the first time, and put it into a bucket to soak the sweat out first.
I didn't pull the black belt out and throw it into the other bucket with my black gloves, and it bled like a stuck pig.
The stains are mostly in front, because that is where the loose ends were. I rubbed undiluted Tandil into the stains before running it through a delicate cycle, but it didn't lighten them any.
Lovely trip otherwise. I went first to the fairgrounds market. For dark-green vegetables, they had chard, kale, and beets. I still have one of the roots of the three beets I bought weeks ago, and I still had chard from the previous week's trip and a small piece of kale from the week before that. Kale keeps well, so I bought kale.
I stumbled upon the best way to package greens for transport: put the stem ends into a grocery bag, then pull another grocery bag down over the fluffy leaves and tie its handles around the stems, which secures both bags. That's also a good package for the refrigerator. (The stems should be put through one of the handles before tying the handles together
The first time I bought kale, I tried all manner of ways to cook it, but it's best when simply boiled, in enough water that I can have a cup of tea afterward.
Chard is best steamed in freshly-rendered bacon grease with the bits of bacon still in it. It's also good when I tear a raw leaf to fit a sandwich.
I stopped at the ice-rink market on the way back and bought a very uninspired egg-and-cheese wrap. I took a bite after getting home and tasted neither egg nor cheese. I had the rest of it warmed up on bacon-steamed chard for my bedtime snack. (That also finished off the chard.) It was good with greasy greens.
I couldn't find the path from the Heritage Trail to Fairlane Estates — it shows up as a groove in the trees on Satellite View, so you'd think it would be obvious on the ground — so I walked across a lawn to the back entrance to Grace College.
I must remember, next trip, to turn onto E. Washington Road just before I get to Wooster instead of going into Wooster and following Van Ness to E. Washington.
I had a pleasant visit at the garage sale on Pierceton Road just before entering Pierceton, but none of the merchandise was interesting.
If I'd known I'd have to wait half an hour for my fried green tomatoes, I'd have eaten my ice cream on peach cobbler first. The crowd at Mee-Maw's tomatoes had thinned out by the time I was served.
There was also ham and beans cooked over an open fire, a barbecue stand, and lots and lots of food trucks.
Artisan booths covered Brower Park on both sides of the tracks, but nobody was selling hats. I heard a tourist remark, as I was crossing the tracks, that it was odd to have a festival right next to a railroad track. Ummm . . . when the park commemorates a train station, tracks kind of come with the package.
When leaving Pierceton, I had Wayne Street, Arnolt Drive, and Van Ness Road all to myself.
I took careful note of Robby Road when going out, and spotted it easily coming back. It's almost a connection to Sunset Drive, but not quite. I think I'll dismount and walk across 250 E the next time I go that way.
Stopped at a garage sale on Sunset, and took ice from my pannier to refill my water bottle. A bit awkward because there was no polite place to lean my bike and I had to lay it on the grass.
I easily found the informal path to the cross-country trail, though I was a bit nervous walking across a lawn to get to it.
A mystery solved: I've been puzzling for weeks because coming out on the homebound side of the Heritage Trail without crossing the Heritage Trail is topologically impossible. I'd remembered the cross-country trail as coming out on the Grace College branch, but it comes out on the Christ Covenant Church branch. And when that branch meets the Grace College branch, it *does* enter on the outbound side.
Alas, a sign on the gate says that the cross-country trail will be closed during hunting season. (On the other hand, maybe our overstocked deer herd will be thinned.)
Dave read in the Epoch Times that soapy water would kill wasps, mixed up a bucket, and threw it on the nest and shelves, and doused the garden stool while he was at it. It seems to have worked.
When the soap had had time to loosen the dirt, I hosed off the garden stool. This was fortunate. Later on I decided to avoid starting to weed the garden by planting the remaining impatience plants, and I seriously needed a rolling stool to do that. Well, I couldn't roll it, but I could pick it up and put the wheels where plants weren't.
I dug some young trees out of the fern bed while I was planting the impatience.
Umm . . . the puddle I left right where I need to put my foot must have drained by now. I'd better go out and turn off the hose I used to water the new plants. (It had, I did.)
Dave cleaned up the parlor this morning. Now I need to clean up the coffee table — mostly it just needs to have the dictionaries unstacked and laid out so that they can be consulted.
I've got a heavy load of ham books to dispose of. The stack is under the coffee table at the moment.
Still haven't cleaned up the coffee table.
I just noticed an advertisement for "walk-in showers". What other kind is there?
Been a lot of stuff going on since I last wrote.
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I clearly heard a pickleball game while I was hanging out the wash. Between me and the pickleball courts was most of our lawn, a lot of trees, a creek, a park, and a playground. I can see why sensitive people who would prefer to believe that they are alone in the world go bananas when pickleball courts are built.
I read in some history that the close resemblance to ping-pong was convergent evolution, not derivation.
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For years I've been wanting to touch up my cycling skills, and learn whether it's possible to practice being startled, to break my potentially-fatal habit of braking with only one hand. A few weeks ago I learned that a Safe Cycling course would be held at the ice rink right here in Winona Lake, at seven thirty in the evening. I marked it on my calendar, and Tuesday morning, I dithered over whether to dress in civvies and ride my flatfoot or put on the full kit and ride my real bike.
Then I took a nap and made supper and at six o'clock wondered that my schedule was so loose and at nine shouted a phrase that Dave considers rather cliché.
Dusted the coffee table and arranged the dictionaries so that I can get at them. Before that, I tied up and binned the cardboard that had been flattening in two piles behind the coffee table, and took all the bricked batteries back to the garage. Where I stuck a label saying "brick" on the top of each one before putting it under the shelf.
I think it was on Tuesday that Dave and Steve brought us Evelyn's lift chair, and moved the Lazyboy into the parlor.
Wednesday, I dumped the king-size fleece bedcover and a can of cat food I found in the freezer at the animal shelter, then made two trips into Aldi.
The first trip was to buy cartons of beverages, the second for everything else. I had parked on the east side of the lot and brought a shoulder bag so that I could walk to Martin's — crossing Husky Trail in a car is awkward at that spot, and I didn't care to do it twice. When I was approaching the frozen food, and contemplating making a third trip for the perishables so that I would have time for the walk, I checked the Martin's list and saw that it was all stuff that I could get at Kroger.
Turned out that Kroger was out of yogurt for the umpty-bumpth consecutive time. But they did have pies, and I don't think Martin's sells half pies.
Said half pie is nearly gone, and he had ice cream on some of it. I shall have to go to Kroger on my way back from the courthouse market tomorrow.
I spent Thursday baking the baby-back ribs I bought on Wednesday. They are grrrreat! In the morning, I put meat, potatoes, and a little carrot, celery, and onion into the black enamel roaster, put it in a four-hundred degree oven, and immediately turned the heat down to a tad over two hundred. Pull a bone out and you don't get any meat on it.
Some time or another I took a close look at the roof-raking pole and saw that it's bamboo-colored fiberglas.
Way cool! I weighed 139.2 this morning, the first time in a long time I've been below 140. While I was dressing, Dave reported that he'd gained a pound since yesterday.
I told him to reward himself with a big bowl of ice cream.
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I forgot that I wanted pie when I went to Kroger. But I did get yogurt. And Golden Grahams flavor Carnation breakfast drink.
Got back too late to take a nap, which left me too groggy to finish the Banner in the evening. (It's very early Sunday morning now.)
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