7 April 2007 Sometimes living on the east side of the lake has advantages. Dave says that he found a perfectly-good boat bumper washed up on the beach. He shoveled up another trailer of leaves and put them on my compost heap. These aren't as rotted as the others, and aren't chopped up as well. I ought to plant the garden today, because it is going to rain tomorrow, but I'm getting dressed to ride my bike to the the library by way of the hospital. I haven't sorted the magazines lately, but what few I have in the bike basket are pretty good -- the bag includes an Alfred Hitchcock and some duplicate funny books. Naptime: I did some gardening anyhow -- I passed Ace Hardware on the way home, and stopped in for onion sets and seed potatoes. Dave said "It looks golfy out there" when he opened the curtains this morning. When I got back, he said the course was in very good condition -- but next time out, he's going to wear shorts. I was thinking, on the way home, that by the time we get another dry day, I'll be wanting to wear a cotton jersey instead of the wool one. But I might want the linen jersey over it. The bridge and boardwalk for the Greenway heading south from the hospital are done. Thought I'd go look at it, then turn around and take my usual route to the library, but they've cleared the right-of-way already. Indeed, it would be just fine if they dumped a load of pit-run gravel into each of two low spots, then ran over the right of way a few times with something that has big fat tires. Alas, nothing says "Greenway" like covering everything with blacktop. I didn't think to take note of what street I left the Greenway on, but if I turn left just before reaching the church, then take every possible right, I should blunder into it. 12 April 2008 And, of course, there's always Google Earth. You can't get there by way of Harrison Street save by going *through* the church. I need to zig onto Lincoln Street if I want to go to the hospital through Hodges Addition. The "cleared right of way" goes all the way to Colfax Street, and was probably a dirt road before the development went in. Dug a ditch and laid potatoes in it the day before yesterday, and yesterday I dashed out to carry forkfulls of leaf mold to cover them up. I'd been planning to sift it first, but settled for digging down to the more-rotted layers. Still haven't even raked a place to plow furrows for the onions. I haven't been helping much with the beach cleanup, either. The wind makes it *cold* out there. Ever since Dr. Snyder told us that sweet potatoes were less glycemic than white potatoes, I've been looking for dried sweet potatoes I could keep in the freezer the way I used to rely on mashed-potato flakes. So I was overjoyed to see frozen sweet-potato patties at Aldi, and grabbed two packages. But when I served them, I thought that they must have been made from sweet-potato flour: they have a texture rather like congealed gravy. Today I finally got around to reading the ingredients: they are cornstarch pudding with a little sweet potato in. Corn and sugar are both off the diabetic diet. 15 April 2008 We went to Dewer Lake Inn for lunch today. I'm glad we went for lunch -- dinner would have been *much* too heavy. As it is, I shouldn't have ordered both the french-onion soup and the spinach salad. Good salad: it's wilted lettuce made outa spinach, except they thickened the sweet-and-sour bacon sauce and poured it over the top instead of tossing the greens in it. Two or three hard-boiled eggs sliced up around the edges, and croûtons on the side. Dave had a battered-cod sandwich with hot-from-the-kettle potato chips. And a good dill pickle, but neither of us was eating anything we wanted dill pickle on. (Not that Dave ever wants dill on anything.) I've committed to doing the embroidery gig at the Pine Wood Derby on May 14th. I sang "Oh, to be sixty again" while coming down the ninth-street hill surrounded by skateboarders. I'd wondered what event was going on when two cars parked in front of the church while I was coming out the ramp-room door. Couldn't be a church event, because all the members know that our big fancy doors are kept locked when it isn't Sunday (hinges need repair), and that the parking lot is on the other side. Figured it was something going on at the dormitory across the street until kids with skateboards started popping out of the cars. Oops, I forgot to check that the big doors were locked properly. Oh, well, I wasn't the last man out, and I did check the ramp-room door. 17 April 2008 I've had all kinds of things to say & haven't gotten around to saying them before they were forgotten, so I decided to write first today. Somehow it's gotten to be nap time . . . Second harvest of the spring: for a week or two I've been putting winter-onion leaves in Dave's salads, and sometimes chopping leaves into other dishes. This morning my rice cakes included both winter onions and garlic chives. The garlic chives seem to be flourishing, but the bronze fennel may suppress them before July. (I like to serve garlic-chive dip at my fireworks party, but didn't have enough garlic chives last year.) Wild garlic and culinary chives are up, and the bronze fennel is showing. The potatoes, onions, and multipliers are in the ground. I need to buy some annuals to fill up the herb bed. And maybe some fancy thyme. I needed a packet of needles, so yesterday I went through the Greenway to Roy Street, zigged onto CR200S, followed it to CR400W, Crystal Lake, Parks-Schram to the Chinworth Bridge Trail, Crystal Lake aka Winona Avenue to Hand, through the viaduct to Market. Stopped in front of some sort of boy's club to change into walking shoes for city riding. Was considering zigging over to Pike Lake Park to take the boardwalk to the hospital -- I had a duplicate funnybook in my pannier -- when I remembered that I'd come for needles and zigged back onto Winona Avenue. Could have had lunch at a deli on the south side of Winona Avenue, but my blood sugar was too low by then to enjoy trying a new place to eat, so I went to Warsaw Health foods for lime, which they didn't have, & forgot that we're getting low on sesame oil, so I bought bone meal and cranberries and came home for lunch. Got home about 1:00pm; I don't know when I left. I wore my cotton jersey -- but with a wool jersey over it, not the linen one. I didn't remember having seen the bright-white sidewalk leading from the Chinworth Bridge Trailhead to the Kiwanis canoe launch before, so I followed it and crossed the creek back to the Greenway on Old 30, which has a wide shoulder in good repair in just the right spot. (Most of Old 30 is unsafe for cycling because it's narrow and rough.) Bedtime: Grumble gripe. I baked bread in the kettle today -- and then forgot to serve it. Would have been good dipped in chicken drippings, too. Baked a chicken for supper (I've learned not to call oven-baked meat "roasted"), and we both wondered why I gave up baking chickens several years ago. It's by far the easiest way to cook meat, and it's *gooood*. One of the events I didn't get around to writing up is a new way to bake bread. I don't watch Alton Brown ("Good Eats!") much because I haven't the patience to wait through the commercials, but I happened to see him recommend that one mix the ingredients for pizza dough together, then chill for several days before letting it rise. So I mixed up a double batch and put it in the fridge. A few days later I made a pizza from half the dough, planning to bake the other as a loaf later on. I didn't think it made much improvement, if any, in the quality of the pizza but it was sure a lot easier to co-ordinate. When it came time to bake the loaf, I was thinking of hamburgers for supper & thought I'd make buns instead, but my hamburger buns aren't very good warmed over. Well, duh! Break off half the dough and make just two buns! Which I did, and it was good, and I think I'm going to keep some bread dough in the fridge all the time now. (Pity to learn this just as the kettle-baking season starts.) Soon after that, I crock-potted pork steaks in chicken broth, and broke off half the remaining dough to make a couple of dumplings. And it was good, but next time I will make four little dumplings instead of two big ones. And I'll grease the spots where I leave them to rise so it won't be so hard to get them into the soup without squashing them. The bread I baked in the kettle spread out into a large cookie because I didn't work in enough flour. None of my bread bags are big enough, and wrapping bread in plastic wrap is awkward -- then I spotted the clear plastic dome of Dave's new corn popper and set that over the loaf. Beautiful! 18 April 2008 The branch of New Madrid that slipped is called "the Wabash Fault", but it seems to be a long way from the Wabash. We were awakened -- by the chatter on the scanner. Aftershock hit here just a little after eleven today, and while watching the things on Dave's over-desk shelf rattle, I realized what was going on last night. While I was reading my newsgroups -- not sure when, but I was in bed by midnight -- I got up to pour myself a drink of seltzer, and set the tightly-capped empty two-liter bottle on the counter. It rocked back and forth as though it had a power source. Cold air expanding? I watched in amazement until it quit, then gave it a nudge and it did it again, but not so vigorously nor so long. Then I carried it into the bedroom, where Dave was reading in bed, and set it on the shelf. Perfectly normal bottle. Finished swelling up, I said to myself, took the lid off, and threw it into the recycling bin. Dave's out golfing with Ward today. Clear Creek, I think he said. I didn't think to hand him the Spring Creek shopping list (he passes it on the way back from Pierceton), but nothing on it is urgent. Me, it's time for lunch and I just finished breakfast. 19 April 2008 I was going to start cutting my new hemp jeans Thursday, but I read a complaint on Creative Machine that a hemp shirt had kept shrinking every wash, and the guest host (It's shirt week, and a professional shirtmaker is hosting) replied that she always washed hot and dried hot three times before cutting hemp. I'd washed my Russia Drill only once, so I popped it into the washer to soak overnight -- with real soap, since I'd used detergent last time, and because the soap chips were piling up. Then I forgot to finish washing it yesterday. Rinsed it in hot water and ammonia this morning, and now it's in its second hot rinse. Ever since the "art" started going up along the Heritage Trail, I've been complaining that the works aren't signed or titled. The latest Winona Harmony printed a complete list, including one work that hasn't been installed yet because, I read between the lines, nobody wants his name in the brochure as the donor of the statue of a naked grandmother. Nice statue (there's a photograph of the model on the front page), but instead of meditating on "legacy" as the author intended, one keeps wondering why the little old lady isn't wearing clothes. If the grandson were naked too, clothing would simply be a detail that was left out, but he's wearing a bathing suit. I've posted bewilderment over the stainless-steel stretch rocker along the creek several times, but once one has the title, all is clear: it's "youth", and what symbolizes youth better than a cross between a rocking chair and a high chair? The Merriam-Webster Collegiate dictionary lying on the pedestal under the chair surely represents adults' responsibility to teach children. But that still doesn't explain why the back of the chair branches into a hat rack. And the high chair should have a tray to keep the kid from falling. Perhaps it's a youth chair -- there used to be dining chairs higher than an adult would use, but shorter than high chairs. The artist is Derek Chalfant. The paper doesn't say who paid for it; the associated bench was donated by Bruce Schaffner. My favorite artwork is going to be spoiled, I fear. At the entrance to the boy's camp there's a polygonal sandbox, placed where it's easy for a mother resting on the bench to keep an eye on her child. The description of this site says "Artist Amy Brier states that 'Carved in reverse on the ball are words written by a local man in notes and letters to his children about respect.'" Sounds like the sandbox is meant to be a pedestal for "the ball". I hope the "Respect" ball works better than the "Kindness" balls along the canal. The feeble solar lights that are supposed to make them glow from within would work better if Artist Courtney Kessel hadn't painted the insides black. "Respect" was paid for by Suzie Light, the bench was donated by Grossnickle Eye Center. 30 April 2008 I've been in and out today, and there are very few cottonwood bud covers glued to my feet. The last time I thought they were going to be pretty soon too weathered to stick, some tree put down a fresh layer, but I think this time it going to not-stick. Nonetheless, I've got about ten minutes of scrubbing to do before I can put on shoes for our after-supper walk. Should be a pretty good supper. Dave brought a whole chicken home from Leesburg, so I filled it with chopped celery, two cut-up sour apples, and a garlic scallion, surrounded it with chunks of jicama and sweet potato, and popped it into a 375-degree oven. Perhaps I should have put in more sweet potato. I threw out the last of the sweet-potato bread this morning, as it had started to mold. Pity. Got the fronts and backs of two pairs of hemp jeans cut out yesterday. Meant to cut the small pieces today, but somehow didn't. Did finish re-washing the sheet I plan to use when I change the muslin wrapping the antique quilts. Haven't invited anybody to watch, this time. Ben & Jonah have seen them, and Matthew is too young to care. The potato sets were sprouted when I buried them; they really should have come up by now. I'm tempted to dig up one. The onions and the multipliers are doing fine, and it will soon be time to pull scallions -- and a good thing, as the winter onions are getting bitter. The new bed of winter onions looks all right, and the transplanted catnip is flourishing. I'm surprised that it hasn't been rolled in. We judge by the behavior of the lake that the dam was closed on Monday. 3 May 2008 I baked chocolate cake and blueberry muffins yesterday. Then served leftovers for supper and forgot to cook the asparagus. I'm planning to serve it as a main dish tonight, with cream-colored sauce (the cheese I plan to substitute for butter in my white sauce has yellow food color in it) and boiled eggs. But I did wash the dishes. First Farmer's Market of the season this morning. It was well after ten when I got there, but they don't yet have stuff to run out of. I bought a tomato plant and a dozen eggs -- the eggs to save having to go to Owen's; everything else on my list can wait until Monday. Came back by way of Canal Street to take a glance at the Fat and Skinny Tire Festival; there's a display of antique bikes and a trike. Spotted a family of ducklings on the beach after I got back. 11 May 2008 Something queer happened in church today. I wasn't much upset when Mom died, because I knew that she was ready -- and I still believe that she decided, that night, that she wouldn't wake up in the morning. But when I noticed the flowers on the altar, waiting to be handed out to the ladies after the service, it reminded me of the custom of handing out carnations to all members at Hills Baptist, and I reflected that if I were to wear a carnation today it would be a white carnation -- and I completely lost it. Perhaps it was because I had looked through the albums that Lenda brought to the Big Birthday party the day before. I'd never before seen a picture of Uncle Bud, only the newspaper clipping about his death. And I learned that Aunt Icy was Grandmother's sister and Uncle Bud's wife. Didn't think to ask where Aunt Grace was connected to the family tree. I wonder whether I missed a picture of Uncle Evert. But I think he was on Dad's side of the family. When I saw the picture of Uncle Ralph and Grandpa, I knew at once that the man between them had to be Grandpa's father. And now Lyn looks just like Uncle Ralph, though he looked like Grandpa when he was younger. All this rain is keeping the winter onions sweet. 12 May 2008 A productive board meeting of the Fellowship Committee tonight: Candy and I cleaned the kitchen. I didn't think to mention the Handwork Circle. Only two loads of wash today: have we been awful clean or awful dirty? I missed a shirt -- Dave was wearing it. 14 May 2008 To wet to go out today; perhaps I'll get the April Banner out before May is due! Yesterday was gorgeous, so I rode to Sydney. I was worried a bit: I was pushing my distance, I've been even lazier and fatter than usual (it had been more than a week since I'd been on the bike at all), it's all rolling hills down that way, and it was windy. A ten-mile-an-hour wind doesn't sound like much, but riding at ten miles per hour into a ten-mile wind takes as much effort as riding at twenty miles per hour -- and wind resistance scales on the fourth power of speed. "Geometrical increase" is only second power. I did do the entire ride on my small ring. Note that my smaller ring is a size usually used for the smallest of *three* rings. (It causes an occasional mis-shift, but the low gears are worth it.) I forgot to note the time when I left home, but it was 1:40 when I left the church on Arthur Street where I'd sat on the steps to change shoes, and 3:00 when I arrived at the Trail House, so it's less than two hours one way. Spent a whole hour wandering around Sydney. The market had no walnuts, but they did have peanuts, and I bought a copy of _The Little Lame Prince_ at one of the antique stores. (I didn't go into any of the others, and I'm not sure they were open.) I stopped at the Trail House on the way home because *every* road I used to get to Sydney and back had Dan Henry marks on it, with fading and variations in paint to suggest at least four different rides had been organized. Must be a very active roadie club around here somewhere! But, alas, the marks were left by the Fat and Skinny Tire Festival. Explains how I got onto the marks at once by cutting through Heritage Trail to Packerton Road. I checked Streets and Trips after getting back, and it said the shortest way to Sydney is 11.7 miles, I I probably rode about a quarter century. I came back in surprisingly-good shape, but it took me twice as long as usual to walk uphill to the church for Handwork Circle, and I was too stupid to darn, so I finished reading _The Cyborg and the Sorcerors_. I think the latter was due entirely to having missed my nap. There's a note on 23 April to remind me to tell the Saga of the Toe. 'Tain't near as funny now as it seemed to me then, but here goes: for several days my right little toe had been hurting when I scrubbed the cottonwood bud-covers off my feet. Tuesday night it was considerably worse, and it hurt to walk to Handwork Circle and back, and the toe was bright red and swollen when I took off my socks. Awk! Scrickle! I put one foot in a bucket of diluted bleach while I was reading Usenet that night, in the hope of drawing out the infection. I've really got to get a bucket wide enough to soak both feet at once; the bleach came pretty close to getting off all the cottonwood stains. After I'd been soaking about half an hour, I remembered kicking a concrete downspout trough that morning. Duh! That toe is still a little sore; in the meanwhile, I've kicked the landscape timbers around the azalea bed, and a few other things. The winter onions are going to seed, but still edible. I've pulled one of the set onions. -- Joy Beeson http://joybeeson.home.comcast.net/ http://roughsewing.home.comcast.net/ http://www.timeswrsw.com/craig/cam/ (local weather) west of Fort Wayne, Indiana, U.S.A.