I have a question about shutting down Agent that I would like to ask on the Agent newsgroup. But I think about it only when shutting down Agent.
Dug up the onions today, and laid them out in the garden to dry. I dug the garlic several days ago and it's bleaching on the picnic table. I have about a hundred times as much garlic as I need.
Nearly everything is pitifully weedy.
In the intervals of doing the wash, I was ripping seams at the picnic table. When returning after the first time my timer went off, I decided that a patio chair would be more comfortable and took the cushion that I left out in the rain a few days ago.
It isn't quite dry yet. Since my jeans are already damp, I continue to use it -- it will dry faster on the patio than in the garage.
The sweat stain didn't come out of my do rag, and my best bra acquired new and startling orangey stains. Then I saw brown stains on my Floral Basket dress -- but that turned out to be baskets showing through from the other side. Whew! I don't like that dress very much, but I have only three summer dresses. (And I'm not terribly fond of the other two, either.)
I rode to the Visitor Center yesterday. If you are determined enough, you *can* get there from here.
I stopped in at Payless Shoes as a matter of principle, and found a pair of tan sandals. I prefer dark sandals, but if the shoe fits, buy it! Aside from color, they are pretty much like my well-worn sandals except for lacking pull-on loops at the heel. Also stopped at Sally's Beauty supply and bought another plastic pumice. I found it in a clearance display, so it's lucky that I had the impulse to go in even though the old one is only half worn away.
The Visitor Center had the map I went after, but it is somewhat disappointing. There were no county maps -- perhaps I should have *asked* for a Whitley County map, but when I asked for bicycle maps (having forgotten that the name is "Michiana Area Bicycle & Pedestrian Facilities Map"), she brought out a folder of print-outs from the Web. I happened upon "Michiana . . ." while browsing the brochures.
When it covers only Elkhart, Kosciusko, Marshal, and St. Joseph Counties, I wonder what's with "Michiana" -- those counties are close to Michigan, but no cigar.
<examines credits> It's short for "Michiana Area Council of Governments Bicycle & Pedestrian Facilities Map. But you'd think they'd leave themselves room for naming another map someday maybe.
I'm trying to keep clean while waiting for time to walk to the Boathouse. I basted patches on an old pair of jeans this morning, but it was naptime when they were ready to stitch. I came to wish I'd finished them: I got up just as Dave had decided to walk up Chestnut Street to see what was going on, and when I jumped into my clothes to go with him, I had to put on my best pair of jeans.
Which aren't all that great; I've got to get around to sewing hooks and eyes on my new pair. After I get around to *buying* hooks and eyes.
We walked all the way to the hotel, switching to Sunday Lane where it becomes a walkway. It's a beautiful shady walk with lots of planted "wildflowers" in the park. But Park Avenue was very sunny and I got home badly wanting a shower. I changed into grubbies and Culta-Ezed the garden first. It needed it badly, and the job should be done again tomorrow. I also picked up all the onions I pulled a few days ago and moved them to the picnic table; I need to spread out some newspapers and bring them into the garage.
Buying bar-type eyes to sew on my new jeans was my major accomplishment this morning. Spent quite a while poking around the site to see whether I wanted something besides bars and round rack dividers.
I've been wanting to organize my half of the closet for a long time -- when I sort things, they don't stay sorted because I can't see where to put stuff back in, save for never-worn garments going clear to the back -- so I was delighted to see exactly the label I wanted on the Manhattan Wardrobe Supply site.
Then check-out revealed that I was spending almost as much on shipping as on merchandise; if I hadn't found the rack dividers, the shipping would have been substantially more than the merchandise. Which, though a shock, wasn't a surprise -- my habit of reading the entire catalog before placing an order goes clear back to Sears and Roebuck.
Then Dave got me a virtual credit-card number to pay with, and sent it to my computer four different times. First time, his computer claimed it was in my root, but Explorer showed no such file, so he e-mailed it to me. I downloaded the e-mail with JOY98, then backed up Thunderbird onto JOYXP (XP was bought as a back-up computer, but proved much better than 98 for web crawling, so I place Web orders from my secondary computer.) The back-up took quite a while, because I have a ludicrous number of archived e-mails and haven't figured out a way to back up Thunderbird without copying all of them. Then I restored the back-up copy of Thunderbird from the back-up file, which never takes very long (I presume that MozBackup has a way to skip files that match files in the destination folders), opened Thunderbird, and was about to copy the number when Dave said he'd figured out how to put a Notepad file on my desktop. So I cleared the desktop and looked: no file. This time it didn't take us long to realize that it was on 98's desktop, so he sent it a fourth time and I used that copy to paste into the order blank.
After I printed out the receipt, I noticed that there were only two sheets of paper in the printer, and opened a new package to refill it.
Thank goodness one gross of bars is a lifetime supply!
When I checked my mail after supper, there was a note from UPS saying my package is due here on Tuesday.
Tuesday is also the first day that Dave can have O's Computer look at the stuck switch on his computer. All the cameras will be down until the computer is repaired or replaced. And he just received a new camera, too!
I Culta-Ezed the garden today, and it looks pretty good. Found an onion, a garlic bulb. and a potato smaller than the garlic.
Now that I've got the weeds out, I should plant radishes or some other quick-maturing crop. There are greens that like cold weather.
I noticed this morning that the bruise I first noticed the day after the Fiasco de Columbia City is completely gone. The small one that appeared on its rim a few days ago is pale but still uniform. If I knew how I get these, I'd stop doing it.
Every morning I resolve that when I've used up my Neutrogena Age Shield Face, I'll buy Neutrogena Wet Kids to replace it. I took it for granted that putting on high-powered sunscreen without leaving white streaks was a time-consuming process until I bought the Wet Kids stick for the backs of my hands. Just rub it across once, and you're done -- and both screens are 70 SPF.
And I suspect that the 70 I spread very, very thin on my face doesn't offer as much protection as the 30 that I slop thickly on my arms and legs.
For those who are saying "???? special sunscreen for the backs of the hands?": stuff on hands rubs off really, really fast even if you don't wash them, so I needed something that I can carry in my pocket. (I do hope that it isn't a summer-only product.)
I'm planning the usual Farmer's Market tour today. With a stop at Owen's on the way back to buy peanut butter. I thought we had a jar in the freezer, but it's "creamy", which Dave doesn't like. I don't know how we come by all those jars of "creamy"; I haven't bought any on purpose since I gave up making peanut-butter cinnamon balls.
Finally got the peanut butter today, when I bought a roasted chicken for supper. Delicious, but I ate too much. And now I want to go back for the other wing.
I took the computer to O's just before they closed on Monday. Come Tuesday, Dave went in and learned that it isn't a stuck switch, it's the motherboard. They think they can salvage the hard drive. Dave's cameras are going to be down for a while. Also our bookkeeping program. Dave installed a new copy on JOYXP and put the latest back-up on it; it may stay there until the next crisis.
Monday morning, Dave got a chunk cut out of his nose. It wasn't nearly as bad as expected, and he was out of the operating room in minimum time, without skin grafts. The part of his nose poking out from the dressing looked like barbie-doll plastic when I first saw him, but it turned normal color when the swelling had gone down a little. When he scrubbed the blood off Tuesday, it looked fairly normal except for the line of stitches. And it's still a bit swollen.
On Tuesday he didn't need the strong stuff prescribed, just Tylenol, so he was able to drive to O's himself. He brought a sub back from Jimmyjohns next door, which we split for supper.
And tonight I bought a pre-cooked chicken, but tomorrow I'm going to have to resume cooking. Probably something made of left-over chicken.
I had my teeth cleaned this morning, and I'll have to go back on Monday to have a cavity filled.
Al was checked out recently and is Just Fine.
On Tuesday I did the wash and sewed half the hooks and eyes on one pair of my new jeans, so I had new pants to wear to the dentist today -- with safety pins on one side. There's time to do the other side tonight, but I don't feel ambitious.
Nor do I feel up to getting ready to ride a quarter century tomorrow, even though I have a new route.
A while back I read about a Warsaw-to-Elkhart bike race, and somehow that drew my attention to Pisgah Marsh in the opposite direction. It's a very nice quarter-century ride, once you somehow get to the north side of US 30, and I could come back between the Barbee Lakes, but (yawn) we have a boardwalk right here in town. Of course the Pisgah boardwalk is higher, and you have to park the bike and walk.
Checked Google Maps Satellite View, and the boardwalk looks longer than the Beyer Farm Trail — at least there are more turns to it. Seem to be gazebos at intervals along the way.
There's no way to look at both trails at the same time, so I may be using larger magnification on the Pisgah Marsh trail.
It's a pity that the local bike club doesn't have an active mailing list. There must be some places to go around here.
Dave says that I can buy good pizza at the Barbee Hotel. His data is out of date, but Google Maps says there is still a restaurant there. Of course Google Maps is also out of date.
When I went to the grocery yesterday, there was a lot of digging going on at the Krebs Trailhead Park. From Market Street, and in a car, I couldn't see what was going on. The place has been looking finished for weeks, save for landscaping.
The nearest hole was very deep, and in the corner of two streets. Perhaps they are hooking up the plumbing in the restrooms.
Grump. Searched for web sites about the park, and learned that it's all done with voluntarily-contributed money. There goes my hope that they were drawing down the funds devoted to the destruction of Market Street.
Unusually short cascade this morning: a while back, the light bulb in the sewing room burned out and I replaced it with the first bulb to come to hand, which was rather dim. Since I've been sewing on the patio, this didn't annoy me enough to Do Something, but today Dave came in to fiddle with XP, and complained that he couldn't see to use the computer. So after he left, I swapped in a hundred-watt bulb, which was the brightest bulb in the caddy. (We seem to be out of Reveal, and I gather that it's illegal to sell color-correct incandescents now, so I'm not going to bother to hunt.)
(And no, the curly bulbs won't do. What with the various eye problems I have, fluorescent light just won't focus.)
I had to pull the caddy out of the closet, and there had been a lot of dust and dirt under it, so I fetched the broom to sweep out the berth before putting the caddy back. Then when I started to take up the pile of dirt, I saw that it wasn't much dirtier than the rest of the floor, so I swept the entire kitchen.
And I remembered what I'd been doing. But I sat down here instead of doing it.
I'm wanting my nap even though I haven't digested breakfast yet.
On the way home from the Farmer's Market, I detoured to take a lap around the Krebs Trailhead construction site. ??? A chunk of railroad? Yes, complete with ties, ballast, and rails; only needs to have the rails spiked to the ties. The rails look as though they'd been buried a long time; might be part of what they dug up preliminary to digging foundations for the restroom building and the shelterhouse. Also some short pieces of rail lying around; it's not clear whether they are scraps or part of another decoration.
So when I checked Google News tonight, the second-highest headline is "Historic Railroad Reconstructed in Warsaw". I don't think that exhibiting a hundred feet of rails constitutes "reconstruction".
The story says that the "scraps" I saw are to be made into a sign explaining what the rails are.
Dave went to the air show while I was touring the markets, then in the evening we walked to the old-car show together. The show was supposed to close at six and it wasn't five yet, but half the cars were gone and we just barely got to the calliope before the trailer it was in was closed up for transport. The owner said that an auto museum stores it for him.
Good news: another Stacy Page story said that they are going to bike-lane Center Street before they desecrate Market. Unfortunately, bike-laning doesn't cost much or take long -- which, I think, is what endears it to FOBs.
("Friends of the Bike" are people who will do *anything* to promote cycling, as long as it doesn't involve knowing anything.)
The cavity was deeper than expected, but still was repaired quickly and without fuss.
I meant to make a quarter century out of the ride, but forgot to wear my country shoes, so I settled for taking the Chinworth Trail to Chinworth bridge, where I ate supper at the Lions Club shelter: skillet-baked bread, a can of Brookdale chicken salad, and a small banana pepper.
Several days ago I put a serves-two bag of pizza dough into the fridge to thaw, then this happened and that happened and I got worried that the dough would spoil and fried half of it. This morning I patted the other half into a small, well-buttered skillet, turning it over halfway through so the top of the loaf would be greasy, and covered it with the other small skillet. I let it rise for a while, then put it over very low heat and cooked one side for ten minutes, then cooked the other side for five minutes, cut it in half, made a sandwich out of left-over chicken and garlic-chive scapes and half the bread. It was delicious, but as soon as I'd eaten it, I realized that lunching on garlic just before a filling was very rude, so on the way out of the house I detoured by the herb bed and picked a sprig of parsley. After checking in at Dr. Hollar's, I had to bip into the ladies' room and pick a green thread out of my teeth.
And I packed the other half in my lunch. It was also good cold. I'm going to make skillet bread on purpose one of these days.
The construction on the other side of the Zimmer-Road roundabout looked better than my previous terrifying experience, but I muttered "buck buck bgawk" and headed for the residential streets. I took every side road that led to a view of Old 30, and was horrified to realize that not only are there *still* no shoulders, for much of the length *curbs* have been installed close to the edge of the pavement. If a wide load comes along, there isn't a way in the world to get out of the way.
I stopped at Penguin Point and bought a two-piece fried-chicken basket (which was served on a plate). I ate every last fry, gnawed all the good parts off the lump of breast meat, and brought the rest home in my cooler, which still had three bottles of ice in it. That bird died so young that I could just crunch up the ribs.
I had the drumstick and the apple I didn't eat at the Chinworth bridge for my ten o'clock snack tonight. Dave had his supper at Wings Etc., so today was rather chickeny for both of us.
No sign of rebuilding or cleaning up at Avilla's. Last time I went by, I had a good excuse to buy shaved ice but they weren't open. Today I had the opposite of a good excuse, but the shaved-ice stand was open, so I bought a piña colada. Not very good, but it was cold and sweet.
Stopped at Owens East for milk, and found two very thin steaks in the Manager's Special. I think I'll fry them one minute per side. Had to take the chicken and the bottle of partly-frozen tea out of my cooler and put them in a nest of bags to get the milk in.
When leaving Owen's, I thought that I really should have drunk that bottle of tea, but I perked up when I took a shower.
I don't think I'd been drinking enough water during the tour; it tasted as though it had been through a softener. The first two bottles were from home, so I don't know what was going on. I never opened any of the three frozen bottles.
And my lack of nap is catching up with me. I wonder whether any of this will make sense in the morning?
When I got home yesterday evening, I threw my sweaty gloves into a bucket of water and forgot about them. This morning, the water was quite black. I'm surprised that the gloves don't bleed onto my hands.
I keep forgetting to spin them out before putting in the next load of wash.
The sheet and pillowcases are on the line; there are whites and yellows soaking now.
There's a pretty good pile of blacks and reds, and I had one white-background T-shirt, but all the other colored clothes are yellow or orange: my linen jersey, two of Dave's shirts, and all three orange bras.
Last Saturday I went to the fairgrounds by way of Winona Avenue looking for Mexican groceries. I'd seen La Carneciera many times, but wasn't sure whether it was a grocery or a restaurant. This time I went in: it's a pretty good-size grocery with a lunch counter in the back.
All the small plastic bags were zip-lock, but I did, while looking at the beverages, find out what lemon grass is for. According to the instructions on a box of lemon-grass bags, you are supposed to brew it into a strong tea, pour it over ice, and serve it garnished with a lemon slice. When I first bought the lemon grass, I could have used that idea, but we'll be out of hot weather pretty soon.
The lemon grass will die in the first frost, but I could harvest and dry it just before then --or just after-- and make iced tea next summer.
Dave's stitches were removed this morning. The pathologist's report says that Dr. Ashton removed an enormous amount of skin: two centimeters long and a centimeter and a half wide. I don't know how he closed up a hole that big without putting in a patch. The nose looks pretty good, though still red.
Dave thinks he will get his cameras back on line today. I'm hoping to finish the waistband of my other pair of black denim trousers.
I have a complaint about Malware Bytes. When a scan finishes, an "I'm done" dialog box appears over the main menu. If nothing has been detected and you aren't interested in what is on the main menu, clicking "OK" turns off the dialog box and gives you access to the main menu, which you have to dismiss separately. If something *has* been detected and there is stuff on the main menu to look at, clicking "OK" closes the entire program, which erases the stuff you wanted to read. Shoving it aside doesn't help, because clicks on the main menu don't count as long as the dialog box is open. After a few days, I discovered that if one dismisses the box with the X in the upper right corner, the main menu remains, and I finally deleted the nine objects found. [The next time objects were found, an update had closed that loophole.]
I now have enthusiasm for the Tour to Pisgah Marsh. Google Maps says that the address on my Moore Information Systems map is a short side trip from the Barbee Lakes. "Satellite View" —photographs taken from airplanes; I suppose this is like the "ball bearing shoes" poster from the Gay Nineties and the "space pen" from the sixties— shows that that address is a vacant lot, and the paper map is older than Google Maps so I can't say that the aerial picture is out of date, but I'd still like to go look at it.
And this morning I realized that if maps are still being printed, the Jottem Down Store is just the sort of place that might have some for sale.
Adding the side trip means that I'll go through the Barbees before going to the Marsh instead of after, which complicates the plan of having pizza at the Barbee Hotel. Perhaps I could order something to go, and eat it at the trailhead.
Whatever, the National Weather Service says that tomorrow will be a lovely day for it. Today we have a forty-percent chance of some much-needed rain in the form of thundershowers. (All spring, I kept saying "save some for August!", but did they listen?) It rained during the night: everything is wet, and the bucket under the downspout was full. Dave took it to water his tomato plant and sloshed some on his foot.
Planned route was 27 miles. I went a bit further than that, came home exhausted, Dave suggested Yamoto's Steak House, I was showered and changed in thirty minutes. They presented the food, I observed that immediately after a thirty-mile bike ride done on two fruit-and-grain bars, one packet of two oat-and-honey crackers, one Moser-Roth mint chocolate bar, and two starlight mints was a very good time to eat a meal like this. (It included a really-big pile of rice.) I ordered Tofu Terriaki and got tofu of a variety I'd never eaten before. The texture was like a thick baked custard, or something like cream cheese but not sticky. I'd like to try some made into a dessert sometime.
When only a third of a tofu wedge remained on my plate, I took one tiny bite and my throat and stomach said "That is decidedly unwelcome." Rather queer sensation; not nausea, but a definite rejection. I was home at least half an hour before I dared to take my pills.
I should have eaten the apple instead of one of the food bars; I had to rub cramps out of each foot more than once while I was changing clothes before leaving; they say that potassium depletion is the cause of that.
After taking my pills, I remembered to finish rinsing my jersey, bra, and do-rag. I threw in a white shirt I'd just taken terriaki stains out of.
It seems as though the more tired I am, the up later I sit.
I kept rubbing the backs of my hands with Wet Skin Kids yesterday, but my brown patches were definitely darker when I came home.
Last Sunday, after I got to church, I discovered a small but conspicuous stain on the front of my dress. I put some hydrogen peroxide into a dropper bottle intending to work on the stain. I haven't gotten around to the stain yet, but Dave has been using the dropper bottle to put peroxide on his nose.
Which appears to be healing nicely. He took his last antibiotic this morning, which means that I don't have to wake him at three in the morning any more.
Sometimes I clatter going through a doorway. During yesterday's ride, I reflected --every time I needed my lipstick-- on how crowded my right rear pocket had gotten when my cell phone drove my reading glasses out of my right front pocket. Then I realized that I could put them under the handkerchief in my left rear pocket.
So now I need an extra quarter inch of clearance on the left side when I'm wearing a jersey.
No sore muscles during today's Tour de Farmer's Market, but I was careful how I sat on the saddle, and I was less reluctant to walk and more reluctant to sprint than usual. I bought cherry tomatoes, peaches, and banana peppers. We still have two red tomatoes and half a yellow one from last week, so I didn't get slicing tomatoes.
The cherry tomatoes are going so fast that I wish I'd bought two boxes.
Couldn't find sunscreen when I was at Owen's. I bought the Wet Skin Kids there, and thought I ought to get a back-up stick before sunscreen goes out of season. Perhaps it already has. But Wet Skin is particularly well suited to cold weather, since it leaves a coating of wax on your skin. Perhaps Neutrogena will re-package it as "Dry Skin Face".
I think I am missing yesterday's nap. It's only seven pm and I want to go to bed.
Got rid of the pretzel bars by leaving them in the copy room this morning. All four of the garlic plants I left in the kitchen are still there; I decided to leave them until the Fellowship meeting on Tuesday.
According to the sign at the entrance, the deck of the boardwalk at Pisgah Marsh is 1,500 feet, which means that I walked 3,000 feet. They have benches all along the trail, but I didn't use any except the ones at the entrance, where I changed shoes, ate lunch, consulted maps, etc.
I had the whole place to myself. I guess Friday noon isn't a popular time to go to nature preserves. The road was pounded down well, so they must do better on weekends.
Just plotted Friday's route on Google Maps. It's 34.4 miles without the Ridinger's Lake side trip, now let's plot that in: 36.5 miles.
So it was only about one mile into Ridinger's Lake. Felt as though mile after mile went by as I hunted for an alternate route while muttering "There should have been an 'no outlet' sign back where I made the wrong turn!"
Then when I got back to Adams Road, I found that the wrong turn was marked "EMS R4A Ln" as plain as day. (EMS lanes should be presumed dead-end until proven otherwise.) Ironically, I'd missed seeing the sign because I'd pulled off the road to read my map, which put me edge-on to it.
I was thinking that I'd turned the wrong way on 850E, but I now see that going back north was the only way to avoid Old 30. Well, that or ride US 30 from Pierceton home. Which might have been a good idea, as I was so tired that I nearly left my irreplaceable cleated shoes in Aunt Millie's parking lot. *And* changed them *after* cripping around in the store using a shopping cart for a walker.
I took screenshots of the Google maps and posted them at http://davebeeson.home.comcast.net/LETTERS/JPEGS/Marsh.jpg http://davebeeson.home.comcast.net/LETTERS/JPEGS/WestMrsh.jpg http://davebeeson.home.comcast.net/LETTERS/JPEGS/EastMrsh.jpg
Everything went into one load today. Awful clean or awful dirty?
There was a mile or two of 350N that puzzled me: when the pavement ended it was dirt, not gravel. Which was a major factor in me staying on it: On the day after a rain, you don't get dangerous loose patches of dirt, and this was solid clay dirt mixed with just a little gravel. Which should have been the puzzle, since there were thriving fields on both sides and I don't suppose county road crews would haul in clay the way race tracks do.
But what attracted my attention was that the road was all wheel track, pounded nice and hard from edge to edge -- though not as smooth as the race track was. As I rode along it, I wondered what sort of traffic pattern would do that, and didn't think of the additional puzzle that I had the whole road completely to myself for the entire distance.
In retrospect, if you start with the usual three wheel tracks of a gravel road, then throw in a rush hour of two-way traffic when everybody keeps as close to the edge as he dares, that makes seven wheel tracks, and during deserted times a few people going straight down the middle, that makes nine, and on a clay road drivers can't see the wheel tracks to stay in them -- that could account for what I saw.
But how did they do all that between the time it rained all day Thursday and half the night, and the time I came along in the middle of Friday?
The good surface came to an abrupt end when the road crossed the boundary of the Non-Game Area. Apparently almost everybody turns right or left there, and after sampling the surface, I did too. I'd planned to take 350N through the park even though it had been broken, because closed roads are hardly ever closed to bicycles, but after riding a few feet, I came back out and turned north. I might have slogged through it if I'd been sure there was a walking path, but there was no way I was going to risk having to come back out again.
The end of 350N/850N between SR 5 and the boardwalk was gravel. I rode down, but walked back up.
According to Google Maps, that stretch is all 850N. The county line isn't marked.
Bought groceries and changed the bed in the morning. Gave a passing thought to pending sewing jobs. Got a spot on my new jeans, so I'd better get on with finishing my other pair of new jeans. The spot rubbed off with a wet rag, so I don't have to get done before the Fellowship meeting tonight.
Have also given passing thoughts to writing up the quarter century plus a decade ride for rec.bikes.misc. If I don't do that soon, I won't remember anything.
I packed my lunch, arranged my attaché case, and dressed for the meeting immediately after my nap, then sat down to baste linings into the waistbands of my new jeans.
After a bit, Dave suggested a walk. I put my thimble on the computer table with my other tools, then reflected that it was stupid to leave a thimble loose in the same room with a cat, and put the thimble and the bobbin of basting thread into my pockets.
When we came back, I was too sweaty to sew, so the pants are still in a heap where I dropped them for a few minutes, and during the meeting, I put my hand in my pocket and found a thimble.
When I got back from the meeting, I put the thimble and bobbin into a pocket of the new pants.
My basil plant is trying very hard to go to seed, so I've been putting basil blossoms in my water bottle.
I put a big chunk of basil in the tea I made and froze a few days ago, and it improved the bitter tea considerably. I boiled brick tea in a pint of water, added basil, let it cool, and divided it between two 16.9 oz. bottles, then boiled another pint on the spent leaves and put all of that into one bottle. A couple of times I've put water on the ice in the "weak" bottle and shaken it up, and found the tea adequately strong.
Since I've run out of places to go, three doses of tea may last me past the time when I can expect it to thaw before it's wanted. Sidney is left, but I can't stir up any great desire to visit Sidney and haven't been on the bike this whole week. At least I'll take the Tour d'Warsaw tomorrow, since I want to visit both halves of the Farmer's Market. I may turn into jelly when the Farmer's Market closes for the winter.
Just finished a game of Hexavirus with a score of seven, which I consider a win. I usually score three or even fewer.
Realized today that I didn't need to be in such a rush to get the stain out of my Sunday dress -- I'm not going to church tomorrow.
But I've got the dress out of the sewing room.
I'm planning to put three boiled eggs into the potato salad I'm taking to Donny's Labor Day picnic. I considered buying a hot pepper to put in it while I was at the Farmers Markets, but didn't. The pepper left over from last week might be a hot one -- Hungarian wax and banana peppers are indistinguishable to my eye. Sweet or hot, I'm putting it into the salad.
I bought cherry tomatoes, one slicing tomato, and a box of pears. We've eaten two pears already.
I had no magazines to leave at KCH, so I came back by way of Marsh, where I bought a baster -- and considered having hot fried chicken for lunch, but I came home and had cheddar cheese and hummus and veggies and sweet-heat pickles on two pieces of the whole-wheat matzoh I'd bought at Sherman & Lin's. Not all of that on the same matzoh, of course.
I forgot to swing by the Trailhead Park on my way home.
I wrote the question about shutting down Agent, but haven't posted it yet.