1993 Beeson Banner 2 January 1993 We unpacked the new printer today, and found that one of the pr.def files on the PC-Write Utility disk would work with the new printer, though I must call up and find out how to get the exact file soon. Dave found that the printer already works with his treasurer programs, so we can pack up his printer and store it in the firehouse. We have put the MHW printer on the stand where the firehouse printer was. I went into Instant Press and selected a driver that would work with the new printer, and I've fiddled around enough that I think that I can print the Banner on the new printer (it will require more pages than the DW would for the same text), but making the printer do what MHW bought it for is going to take work. If the heading on this page prints right, I can print headlines to paste into the January issue, but I think most of it is going to be done on the daisy. 3 January 1993 My New Year's resolution is to make the 1993 Banner less than 71 pages. The obvious way to make it smaller is to spend more time editing it -- but editing down means that you remove unnecessary parts and you can't remove unnecessary parts if you don't have any necessary parts. Dave sees Mincy tomorrow, to see how his neck is coming. He isn't as eager to get the collar off as he was to get it on, but he is looking forward to it. Plastic around the neck would have driven me insane by now. I've been looking over the pr.def file and finding ways to conserve fonts. I would never want double high without double wide, so I coded them on one letter instead of two; in other places I intend to break up combinations and set size, quality, and style separately. Now if I could persuade the manual to reveal the meanings of "Quiet" and "SLQ"... 8 January 1993 This morning I was sitting in the leather chair with Frieda on my lap, read- ing yesterday's Science News by way of not getting to work, when I noticed a white-tipped yellow tail at an improbable altitude. I dislodged Frieda and went to the window; Erica was up the maple tree and seemed to be struggling. After watching for a while, I realized that she was batting dried leaves off the twigs. The Vetalog must be working pretty well. Piroxicam isn't as successful. When I started for the MHW meeting yesterday, I notice a new pain, in the lower back to the left of the spine. It was uncomfortable to drive, but I didn't notice it at the gym or during the meeting, which makes me realize that about the time I started having trouble in my arms, I started driving more than usual, some of it in city traffic. The medicine has helped; on my previous visit to the gym, I skipped nearly all the upper-body machines; this time only the abdominal suggested that I shouldn't oughta. There were one or two others that I skimped. I'm so cautious that I wonder what the other patrons think; the weight room is probably the place where I'm least likely to overexert. I've little more than a week to either get over this or build my cycling distance up enough to ride to Colonie. Preferably the first, because my appointment on the 18th is at 10:00 am. Dave came home on Monday with his collar still on. It seems that he was to get a prescription for an X-ray, not an X-ray. Then he had to go get his picture taken, then go to pick up the developed picture, then, on Thursday, take the X-ray to Mincy and get a verdict. I thought this a peculiar prescription for someone who isn't supposed to drive in city traffic. When he came home for lunch yester- day, he stood in the living room grinning until I noticed that his neck was bare. He is to wear it only when his neck hurts, now. I made him take it to work this morning in case he gets tired; after such a long time in a collar, his neck muscles must be pretty weak. Dave says that his peripheral vision has improved noticeably. SLQ printing doesn't look any better than Utility, so I don't need to include codes for it in my printer-control file, but I'd still like to know what the "S" stands for. "Quiet state" remains a mystery. I've figured out why they say "selected" and "deselected" instead of "on-line" and "off- line" -- you can toggle the states with software commands. If the printer were truly off-line, it wouldn't receive the command to put itself on-line. Erica's was my second startling tail in twenty-four hours. When I was on the way home last night, if the deer had jumped left instead of right, I'd have hit it; by the time I pulled myself together and shifted my foot from accelerator to brake, I had a close-up view of hindquarters and kicking back legs. The deer must have been as off-guard as I, because that wasn't a very high fence it was draped over. I hope it wasn't a barbed-wire fence. 10 January 1993 I'm growing attached to the white bedspread I bought at the church rummage sale for a stop-gap printer cover, but we still need covers for the radio and rollaway bed. Maybe I should just cut a piece of washable wool for the top of the rollaway; if Fred insists on sleeping on it, I might as well make him comfortable. And I think I have some scraps that are big enough. Yesterday Dave complained "Why did I have to get sick on a weekend? Why couldn't I have gotten the flu on Monday." I told him that on Monday he'd still have the flu, but he wasn't comforted. I haven't started feeling Dave's cold yet, but it may account for the new muscle ache; I always injure easier and complain more when I'm infected. 13 January 1993 I'm feeling the cold now. Strictly from the neck up, so far. On the other hand, I just put the January-February Bikeabout between two sheets of corrugated cardboard and put rubber bands around it. I'm not sure how to deliver it, since Dave drove the Toyota to work this morning & someone with a cold has no business riding a bike on such a cold day -- not to mention that I was hesitant about venturing into this mess in a four-wheel-drive mini-truck, and haven't ridden in months. Got the wool scraps out of the cedar chest and found that one of the grays had no piece large enough to cover the top of the rollaway, and the other was in two pieces which just might be enough to make a pair of pants, so I threw it into the wash. (It hadn't been cut, so I figured it hadn't been shrunk.) There was a still- tagged remnant of plain red, which I think will make me a beautiful shirt if I ever get my other projects finished, and a piece of plaid that I promptly cut a square scarf from. Still haven't finished the fringe; H2O flannel is slightly felted, which makes it hard to ravel. A #16 crochet hook has been useful in persuading the threads to let go. Which left the scraps from Dave's olive- green shirt, the one that's in a plastic bag beside the door waiting for me to go past the Salvation Army box. (I kept the red plaid shirt that left the scrap I made the scarf from, and maybe I ought to go up and put it on; there's a draft from this window.) I'm not crazy about olive green, but it doesn't clash with the wallpaper, and it's going to be cat-fur colored anyhow. As soon as the aroma of mothballs dissipates. The scrap had been cut along a thread, but I couldn't figure out how I had done it, and tore the rollaway cover. I cut the scarf along the lines of the plaid, of course. I was disappointed in "The History of Underwear." It was limited in time and place, scarcely mentioned "the lower classes," and the authors didn't care how the garments were made. Even the appear- ance of the sewing machine is mentioned only in connection with dating pieces. There are frustrating hints that before the plain-sewn shirts and shifts, there was another form with a second gusset above the arm, but where the second gusset was and what it did are left to conjecture. 14 January 1993 Beautiful weather after yesterday's storm; every twig and weed is fringed with white, and there wasn't a breath of wind, so everything is still frosted. Sky was white all day, but I saw a cloud-edge on my way to the printshop. Also dropped off the Salvation Army stuff, returned my library book, mailed some overweight letters, and stopped by the gym. Found my arm much improved over the last time I spent half an hour giving my body my undivided attention. I'd also lost five pounds, but what with the cold and being hungry and thirsty, I didn't take much comfort in that. I don't feel as sick as yesterday. Took a nap after lunch anyhow, and then it was time to get dressed for the writer's meet- ing. One of the guys read a hilarious story about a fire in a fish market. Pity the Saturday Evening Post died. (I wonder whether the nostalgia 'zine that bought the name would also buy the story?) I had no contribution. Should have taken the file copy of the Bikeabout. I discovered that I have a copy of "Knitting Without Tears;" I'd thought I'd read it in a library. Has the stamp of the needlework shop that used to occupy the space where Canterbury Tales is, so I must have bought it on impulse and forgotten. I think I'll make a modification of Zimmer- man's "Kangaroo-pouch" sweater for my blue-and-white coat. She says that you need five four-ounce skeins for a sweater, and I bought only four for a coat. And Fisherman's Two Ply must be heavier than the yarn she had in mind. I hope Sandy has more of that blue. 16 January 1993 Today I finally started knitting my coat. I gave in and started at the bottom, with a hem of stocking-stitch worked in fingering wool on a #2 needle. I plan to work a row of purl in blue on the #2 needle, then switch to my bamboo #5 for the color pattern -- still "spruce," though I like "spruce" better the other way up. Stranded knitting draws in so much that the pattern will have almost as many stitches to the inch as the hem. I'm working the hem on a needle two sizes too big, to make it stretchy. 258 stitches go mighty slow. Also sewed the sleeves to my blouse today. Hope I finish it before I switch to wearing short sleeves! We haven't (knock wood) had any detectable wind since Wednesday's wet snow. The sun came out today, and it was raining clots of snow under the trees, but everything was still frosted when we came back from having a Mexican pizza at Smitty's this evening. I imagine that ski fans and snowshoe fans were glad today came on a Saturday. I was tempted to set foot outside myself. I wonder how long the winter weather can hold? It would be nice if the snow stayed until time for our thawed-and- frozen plants to wake up. 20 January 1993 It was queer to sit watching bright sunlight and gently-stirring trees, and listen to the deputies talking about "notify DOT," "drifting snow," and "skidding off the road" as near as Krumkill road. It was very cold when Dave left, but when I went out for the mail, I didn't put on anything but my new wool scarf. (Of course, I'm wearing the aforementioned wool shirt today.) We didn't get any mail, an unusual circumstance to say the least. I went through Margie's mail, because he frequently shoves some of one batch into the other, and noticed that she'd gotten one of those ads he's supposed to put into every bundle. Then I knew that the mailman had stopped, shoved a bundle of mail into one box, and moved on thinking that he'd done his duty, the way I'd do at the double-shoulder machine if I didn't carry a checklist. Hope we didn't get anything urgent. Got to the gym on the way back from Dr. Irani yesterday -- a sore shoulder is a bunch of trouble if your G.P. hasn't seen you in years and wants to catch up. Irani wants me to go to Memorial Mammography, but I don't think Memorial is entitled to send me anywhere. I told Irani I'd see them, so I guess I have to do it, but all that "it doesn't hurt" propaganda has made me wonder whether I should. If they have to do so much yelling, there must be something to yell about. Finally got past the hem of the sweater. It's going much faster now that I'm work- ing the pattern and working in rounds. I increased to 161, because I'd miscalculated my multiple, then I added seven stitches for cutting and turning under. It took three rows to turn the hem: a blue knit row to set it up, and two purl rows to span the change in thickness. Looks good so far. 22 January 1993 When I went out to get milk later, I found the mail on the driver's seat of my car. Seems strange that I saw him pull away from the mailbox, but did not hear him come up the drive. He used the car because a Comic Album in its cardboard envelope was too big for our letterbox. Last night we opened and read it, and found that every story was one that both of us had read recently. The subscription was absurdly expensive; incidents of this sort do not inspire me to renew. Began to rain in the night, but hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be. I think I could shove a little slush off the drive. I took my last Piroxicam this morning. The Physician's Desk Reference says it will take a couple of days for it to wear off. 29 January 1993 Went to the gym Tuesday, which gave me a chance to evaluate my condition. I'm not sure I was better than I had been on the previous Saturday (when for the first time I did all the exercises without _officially_ cheating), but I'm definitely not any worse than I was before I stopped taking the medicine. I've decided to simply live around the crippled arm and try not to lose any more range of motion; it seems to be very slowly improving. About all that I'm limited at now is getting in and out of button-front shirts; oddly, pullovers are no problem. That's partly because I mastered them when I was considerably sorer, and partly because all my pullovers are jersey or doubleknit. Yesterday I finished my second button- front shirt, the long-sleeved blouse I've been discussing for so long. Wore it to the Auxiliary meeting last night -- and cov- ered it up with a prototype of the turnout apron I hoped the group would approve. Over half half-heartedly voted in favor of expending the $30 I asked for, but they displayed no interest in the project. On the other hand, about half a dozen are on the fire committee this year. Considered asking for $60 to make six aprons, in that case, but between stage fright and the lack of interest, I didn't bring it up. I'd hoped they would help me with the design. The shirt turned out pretty well, but putting pleated sleeves on a dropped shoulder wasn't the brightest idea I've ever had. Also, I should have gathered the bottom of the sleeves to keep them out of trouble. Still could attach a cuff, I guess; there are plenty of scraps. 1 February 1993 2:10 A.M. I got home from the Super Bowl party exhausted, and went to bed soon after 6:00, so now I can't sleep. The party started at 2:00 P.M. and ended, as far as I was concerned, when the game started and folks lined up like birds on a phone wire in front of the TV. We had prime rib, excellent stuffed potatoes, overcooked broccolli with canned cheese sauce, and assorted rich deserts. I finished a drawstring bag and started a bootie while gossiping at the party, and felt as if I had a small bruise at the focal point of my soreness afterward. I've been trying this activity and that activity as candidates for what it was that hurt me; I think it was the several hours I spent crocheting at Memorial that was the final straw. 'Tis a pity. That bootie was developing nicely, and now I'll have to wait until I feel better to finish it. I have two white pairs and two pink pairs for Sandy's next trip to Indian Ladder, but no blue and no bright colors. I also have a pink bag and a brown one with red drawstrings. I bought the yellow duck for the turnout aprons Saturday, and when I got home with it, it was as orangy an orange as I ever saw. How could I make such a mistake? Washed it yesterday & hung it in the cellar. Soon I'll run it through a rinse cycle and take it to the "jeans and towels" drier at the laundromat. 2 February 1993 Sunday morning, we found that a snow- plow pulling out of the highway garage had smashed both mailboxes. Monday, Margie and I went to Cranell's to buy new ones. I'd fussed and fumed at Dave for buying a teensy-weensy box when we get magazines and I get manuscripts and he orders most of the packages. So I selected a huge box, the only alternative to teensy-weensy, and started to pull it off the shelf, and pulled it and pulled it. With only six inches more to come, I shoved it back. If we put that thing up, we wouldn't have to wait for a snowplow; the next two-seat sports car to come along would find that there wasn't enough room to get past it. So I resigned myself to wrinkled photographs and dented disks, and bought the teeny box, a flimsy aluminum model. The hinges will corrode in a few years, but I don't think we have to worry about that. I've started the second ball of blue yarn on my sweater. I wish I'd picked a pattern with a longer repeat. Knitting three blue and one white for a round, then three white and one blue for a round pretty soon feels like knitting the same round over and over. 5 February 1993 There wasn't any unoccupied secure space in the firehouse, so the Epsom printer is sitting on the glove-and-scarf chest, to Erica's annoyance. Someday RSN I'll get the spare room cleaned out so that Dave can use it for a ham shack, and he'll move his printer up there. Then I'll have to buy a computer of my own. Roger said he would come yesterday or tomorrow to put up our mailboxes. He didn't come yesterday, and tomorrow is predicted to be unfit for outdoor work. The mailman put the mail in my car twice, then Margie met him once, at which time he said that he'd put our mail in the Campbell's box -- they've just moved to an apartment on Washington Avenue Extension, so they aren't using it -- and the following day, yesterday, I found the mail in our paper boxes, which weren't damaged in the collision. Today we didn't get any mail; it wasn't in the door (where Margie puts it) when I got back from shopping, and when I remembered it again after we came back from the Gold Coin (Smitty is on vacation) I went out in the dark to find that the paper boxes are empty and the Campbell's box is empty. I checked the car on the way back even though I was sure he'd gone before I got back, about six. There was a paper in the Campbell's paper box, yet we saw their car in their drive today. Perhaps they didn't bother to look, having cancelled both paper and mail. Since the box faces away from their house, they aren't likely to notice without specifically checking. We still tire easily from that cold we caught early in January. I never had it bad, but it hangs on and on. Blow the nose every two-to-four hours, sneeze twice a day. No news from today's session at the gym, but when I dashed upstairs to comb my hair before going out to eat tonight, I suddenly realized that I just picked up the comb and combed it, with no struggle when I wanted to comb from the roots to the ends in one stroke. I wonder how long I've been doing that? I kept putting off running over to Sandy's to buy more yarn, and now they've gone to Florida for two weeks. Oh, well, I'm only on ball two of four now, and she won't sell the remaining blue while she's gone. Hope she has some natural white. 8 February 1993 Tomorrow is trash day; hope I don't forget; I've missed two weeks in a row. Marian relieved me of my newspapers when the Campbells were packing their dishes, but the "mixed recyclable" bin is overflowing. Roger still hasn't been here, which surprises Dave; he keeps saying "Roger is usually reliable." On Saturday, Dave got Margie's box up before the mail came, and the take included two Enterprises that should have come on Friday, which we found reassuring. Margie thinks that on Friday the regular mailman forgot to tell the sub what to do about our problem. Anyhow, with one box up, we can get the mail. Dave can't put up our box because the board underneath was broken into three pieces, two still attached to the broken box, and the third is affixed to the post by weird screws that no standard tool will unscrew. I hope Roger has a screw-remover! I think I saw some people looking at the Campbell's house. 11 February 1993 I had a pleasant time at the poet's meeting tonight -- I got to read another chapter of "The Dying Demon"! It re- minded one of the other women of Mists of Avalon, which I wasn't sure how to take: Bradley is a good writer, but her work tastes a little off. I used to think it was because she was hung up on mock copula- tion -- a view amply supported by "Witch Hill"! -- but the preface to one of the stories in "Free Amazons of Darkover" suggests that it's because she's a coercion- ist or a communitarian. (I'm not sure of the right word; by "communitarian," I mean someone who believes that groups have a fundamental right to exist and that individuals must justify their existence by service to groups.) I must hasten to add that I know that it isn't fair to cite "Witch Hill," which is formula porn. (I mistook it for a romance.) 13 February 1993 We have decided to to go to Indiana in March, leaving here on the 8th and leaving there on the 15th. We'll go to Warsaw first, stay until after Evelyn's birthday, then go to Frankfort, where Dave will attend the hamfest in Indianapolis and I'll visit Alice. Saved by weird screws: When Dave went out for the paper this morning, he found that Margie's box was deformed and the arm on which ours should have been mounted was lying in the ditch. (The box itself is still in the back entry, waiting for Roger.) This is the second time that the second mailbox was hit harder. Wouldn't you think the box to be hit first would take more damage? After driving around, Dave said that a great many mailboxes had been damaged during the storm. 15 February 1993 Dave gets Presidents' day off, so he bought a "square recess" bit for his electric screwdriver and disassembled the wreckage of the mailbox. He used phillips screws to put it back together! He took the shattered post arm to the lumberyard to ask whether they could make him a replacement; they sold him a bottle of wood glue instead, saying it's silly to spend a lot of money on a mailbox. Later in the day he went to Crannells & said, "can you sell me a board so by so by so?" & he said "mailbox, eh? I should have cut several and put them in the store." Dave forgot to put back the brace under the arm of the post, but managed to screw on the paper box anyway. I think its more for decoration than support, but we've kept it and Dave says he'll put it on next summer. Or the next time he glues the post arm back together. I had improved significantly when I went to the gym last Monday, but I haven't been back since & feel that I've backslid. I feel a definite difference the third time that I go at the proper intervals. I dilly- dallied out of going today, and now they are predicting snow at an inch an hour for tomorrow. Yesterday, just when I'd decided I was knitting in place, I _finally_ reached the underarms of the sweater. Alas, I've already finished the decrease rows that round the corners of the armhole, and it's back to round and round. But now I can see progress. 16 February 1993 In fact, I'm already halfway from the underarm to the bottom of the neck. When Dave said he'd prefer to drive the four-wheel-drive car, that finished any thought I had of venturing into the storm. From in here, though, it doesn't look too bad: it's barely cold enough to keep the snow dry, and there isn't much wind. I rather wish I were into skiing or snow- shoeing; it seems like a perfect day for it. Ah, well, the falling snow would probably get on my spectacles. I don't think the bad arm would keep me in. I was waving my arms about to make up for not going to the gym -- I never stick to it long enough to go through the whole warm-up; do you think that getting on of those monitor-size mirrors would help? While waving them about I found that it didn't hurt to hold both arms straight out to the sides, which hadn't been possible at all only a short time ago. I'm typing one-handed, and resenting it. After lunch, I decided to make a double batch of my patented low-fat cocoa pud- ding, and got out an iron kettle because my tiny iron saucepan is crowded with a single batch. When the kettle began to shift from the force of stirring, I grabbed the wire handle without due regard for where it had been in relation to the fire. I expect the burnt pinkie to be history in an hour or two, but meanwhile, it's hard to get anything done with an aloe leaf clutched in the left hand. 20 February 1993 And the pudding turned out lumpy and too thick. That's a fool-proof recipe! I'm thinking of going to see Sandy tomorrow, so I changed the date on the packing slip for my booties, added the blue pair that I crocheted while she was gone, and pulled another hardcopy. After puzzling for a while, I remem- bered that I'd been fiddling with the print-control file. .R:M changed from "reverse half-line feed" to "Start using Prestige typeface." I may re-reassign it, because Prestige isn't as pretty as Courier or as clear as Roman. (I use Roman for beauty and Courier for clarity under difficult conditions.) Over pizza tonight, Dave said that Sandy said that the booties are selling faster than I crochet them. Considering that I crochet only when waiting for something, that's not too surprising. I didn't crochet while waiting for the pizza. I think the new owners have been gradually reducing the light level. I not only couldn't see my white thread, I had trouble focussing the salad. Why making it hard to see is supposed to be high-class escapes me. Not that Smitty's is a high-class joint. I saw a woman in a beautiful black suit and was nonplussed until I heard the bar- tender directing her to Guilderland Center. Today I cut the gray flannel to make a pair of pants. Had to cut on the crosswise grain, as neither piece was long enough. Gave a scrap the flame test; it smelled like burnt hair & I said "all right!" Then I decided to see if it self-extinguished as wool is supposed to do, and held it in the flame -- it flared up like kerosene, melted, and dripped flaming globs. (I was holding it in tongs over a fireproof surface, of course.) I deduce that it's mostly poly- ester with a little bit of wool. While cutting it, I thought I'd regret the decision, but I've made three trips to fabric shops without finding anything better & I do need a new pair of pants. My dirty-work pants tore, and I've nearly decided that they are not worth patching again, so the other two pairs moved down a notch. Could end up wearing a housecoat on laundry day if I don't get sewing. In the history of costume I've been reading, I found why we refer to a "pair" of pants. They were originally separate leg covers, and for a century or two after tailors got the idea of sewing them together, they had a terrible time working out a wearable way to do it even though they'd already solved the problem of the set-in sleeve. If the church hadn't immediately condemned the old style as indecent, one-piece pants might never have caught on. I think that bishops were wearing skirts at the time. Ye cats. I've only a week of February left -- and during the first week of March, I've got to get the Bikeabout out, pack, and attend two banquets. I'd better find out whether my banquet dress needs repair. 23 February 1993 More panic: we're spending the second week of march in Indiana, and the last week on a sea cruise. Several couples from the fire department are going, and Dave has always wanted to go on a cruise, so at very short notice we are jumping in. I can't see us having fun in proportion to the expense, but there isn't any chance the money would keep until we retire anyway; it's already worth a fraction of what it was when it was earned. For one-tenth as much, the "Dutch Apple" riverboats will give you about as many hours of fun per day as you can stand. But then you've got to get yourself down to the pier at the Port of Albany; the flight to Port Canaveral is included. Dave said that there will be two stops; where, I've no idea. Perhaps the Bahamas. I wonder whether I'll need my passport? Worry, worry -- I can't see my uniform of jeans and turtleneck as suitable for a cruise ship, especially since I've been throwing the turtlenecks into the dirty-rag basket more often than I throw them into the laundry basket, and less often than I ought to. I want to get mock-turtles to replace them, but imagine that it is much too early in the year to buy long-sleeved shirts. It's snowing again. The benches on the picnic table have vanished under two ridg- es of snow, and the tabletop is thinking about it. I don't think the two inches predicted will bury it, though. Where was this stuff in January? Today is Tuesday, and I remembered to take out the trash -- thanks to Danny, who clanked while loading his mother's trash into his truck to drive it out to the road. Because of the snow, I kept the papers in, and so did Margie, but it seems to have stopped. I'd run them out now, if I thought the truck would come before it started up again, -- and if there were room beside the snowbank. I already have "mixed recyclables" in the driveway. Not far into the drive, the "bin" is yellow, and we don't expect anybody to drive in until after the trashmen pick it up. Yesterday I "kangaroo pouched" the neck of my sweater -- a pinched-looking pouch, because I slipped the stitches off in two installments to round the edges of the opening. It isn't far to the shoulders now! I plan to go Elizabeth one better, and kangaroo the shoulders, too, jumping from the front to the back instead of binding stitches off. The double bind-off I intend to use instead of a seam should cover the bridges of yarn neatly. Wish I could remember where I put my copy of "Knitting Without Tears"; I'm not following the instructions exactly, but it's nice to know what you are varying from. My new pants are now in three pieces: all I have to do is to sew on the waist- bands, hem the legs, and sew on hooks and eyes. I've learned why the Amish don't use buttons -- hooks are easier to sew, easier to use, and look better. 11:29: a brief thrill. Onesquethaw was reporting "Fire out, back in service" & I was thinking about what Dunstan would say to the unfortunate owner of the "fully involved car" when I remembered that Dave's car is at Dunstan's. After a while I also remembered that Dunstan's is in New Salem's territory -- and at one point they were saying "try to get Sid Dunstan out here." Dave said that Fred said that he was sending the car to _Neil_ Dunstan. Thought it was odd that nobody was around Dunstan's in the middle of a Tuesday. Our Dunstan's is also on Route 85, but nowhere near 443. 26 February 1993 Dave got his car back yesterday, and I took mine out this morning to buy two gallons of milk -- and now I'm feeling stuffed from trying to make up for lost time! I had meant to buy milk on the way back from the gym Sunday night, but the roads were so slick that I couldn't make the turn into Mobil. Overshot our driveway, too, and I thought I was prepared for it. I finished my new pants Wednesday, and wore them to the writers' meeting Thursday night. They look good in front, but the pattern still needs adjustment in back. I tried all my skirts and dresses on yesterday morning, and found that none need repair -- and that I have no blouses for either skirt. I also found a stout linen half-slip that matched a dress that I threw away years ago. I put it into the suitcase, reflecting that Jeanie is so clever -- not to mention so much smaller than I am -- that she could re-cut it into an evening skirt, or make lingerie for Laura. But then clothes that have to be ironed every single time they are worn are out of fashion, or at least they ought to be now that it's customary for a young mother to hold down three full-time jobs instead of the traditional two. I've knitted the shoulders of the sweater together, cut the center front and tucked in all the ends, and now I'm picking up stitches to make the neckband. The ball-and-a-half of blue yarn might be enough, but I'd better get over to Sandy's soon to buy another one. I'm definitely going to need some more natural white. I was too enthusiastic about overcoming the tendency of the bridges to stretch, forgetting that they needed to bridge the double bind-off as well, so the stripe across the shoulder stands up in a ridge. 28 February 1993 I've bound off the neckband & I'm picking up around the sleeves, but I still haven't been to Sandy's. Will have to start the last ball of yarn when I pick up the second sleeve. I'm trying to put my circular needles away, but cannot find my needle gauge to tell me which packet to put each needle in. I emptied out the sewing stand that used to belong to Dave's grandmother, and I found half a dozen balls of the black persian wool I use for darning, my homemade mitten-gauges, a crocheted leash for a pair of scissors, the canvas samples I thought I'd mislaid, a forgotten coupon worth $2 on my first order of canvas, a pair of baby booties wanting a pair of drawstrings (which I sewed up in a dirty pillowcase because they'd gotten dusty), countless sewing needles, two paper clips, and three miniature chicken rings, but I didn't find my needle gauge. I don't know how many years it's been since we had chickens, but those rings keep turning up. I used to use them for knitting markers, which is how these ended up in the sewing stand. I threw them into the knitting-needle box. Making the poncho shirts that I copied from the summer shirt I bought in Busch Gardens, is easier done than said, but here is the method: Cut or tear a thread-straight piece 60" long and between 39" and 50" wide. Wider fabric makes longer sleeves; longer fabric makes longer flaps at the bottom. Fold it in half lengthwise, carefully matching edges and patting out all wrinkles. (Pins may help.) Fold in half crosswise, ditto. Keep the wrong side out so that you can mark on it with a soft pencil. (Tailor's chalk marks are too fuzzy and wide.) Now that it's folded in quarters, mark a point 10" from the crosswise fold (the shoulder) and 11" from the lengthwise fold (the center front and back). Draw a line along the true bias from this point to the selvage, slanting toward the hem-to-be. (Moving the under-arm point down will make the armhole bigger; moving it out will make the bust measurement looser.) Draw a line on the straight grain, 13" from the center fold, extending from the hem toward the bias line. Put the 12" mark of the tape measure on the underarm point, swing it until the zero mark touches the straight-grain line, draw the side seam. Put a dressmaker's carbon under the doubled cloth, so that you mark left and right at once, and draw a circle of 5/8" radius around the underarm point. Draw short tangent lines marking 5/8" seams. This sharp curve cannot be stitched freehand, nor can you guide into and out of the circle by eye. Cut the three straight lines through all four thicknesses. Snip the shoulder fold to mark it. Unfold once, leaving the shirt folded in half lengthwise. Decide which is the front and which is the back. On the front, mark a straight-grain line intersect- ing the shoulder-fold 3" from the center fold. Mark a crossgrain line intersecting the center fold 4" from the shoulder fold. These two pencil lines, the center fold, and the crease-and-snip form a rectangle. Trace around a round object such as a coffee mug to round the outside corners. Cut out the neck. (For a child or a Bees- on, make a round neck with a slit; an oval neck large enough to slip over the head would slide down the shoulders.) Make two patch pockets from the scraps. Cut them deep enough that the bias cut nips off one corner, then trim the adjacent corner to match. (The original turned the pockets 90 to get a piece that was deep enough.) This method requires you to turn the pockets upside down, but if the print is directional, you can cut pockets from the back scraps and sew them to the front. Hem the neck and the three sides of each bottom flap. For a quick-and-dirty hem, miter the corners first, fold the hems to whatever width makes the miters meet neatly, topstitch by machine. Sew the pockets to the front flap with their bottoms 2" from the bottom and their edges 2" from the edges. If the shirt is for a male, make the other two scraps into chest pockets. Sew 5/8" side seams, continuous with the sleeve seam. Press the seams open. Make three 3/8" snips (leave " unsnipped) into each allowance of each underarm curve, one on the crossgrain and two on the straight grain. (Make sure the snips _don't_ match, so that weak spots won't co- incide.) Fringe out the seam allowances, finger-press open, and back-stitch by hand 1/16" to each side of the underarm seam. Turn under the allowances of the side seams and the sleeve seams and top-stitch to match the flap hems. (Both sides of the sleeve seams show.) Before top-stitching, press the corner of the sleeve hem so that you can see how to clip the end of the seam allowance. Hem the sleeves. 3 March 1993 Having signed up for a three-day bike trip in May, I figured I'd better suit up first thing this morning and take the first step in working my way up from zero to forty. But I wanted to get a proof of the president's message into today's mail, so I did that first . . . Checked the mailbox just before going up for my afternoon nap, and saw the mailman going into Woodwind, so I guess I'll sit up a quarter hour longer. Checked to make sure I could find the shorts and halter I mean to use for a swim suit on the cruise, and found them folded together -- probably where I put them after unpacking from my last trip to Indiana. Tried them on and came to the conclusion that I desperately need a coverup for walking to and from the pools. Saw some nifty ones at Cramer's a year ago, but that store has gone broke. Left the halter on; though I still can't breath in it, it's more comfortable than going without, and definitely more comfortable than wearing the bras that ride right on the spot where the elastic has worn the skin off. So I hunted up the "Womyn's Wheel" catalog and ordered another one, a size larger. 7 March 1993 10:00: no wonder I'm sleepy. I've got the Bikeabout wrapped up, and I even remembered the labels for the contributor's copies, but the house is a mess. I don't want to shake rugs at this time of night. I did get out on the bike: after my nap, I rode to the intersection of Picard and New Salem Road, and early on Wednes- day I rode out to Voorheesville to buy milk. I arrived at the Mobile station an hour before the milkman did! They did have one carton. I bought four more on my way to go shopping Friday, which may have overdone it: we have three of them left. But one is open, and we haven't had breakfast yet. Dave wanted to get off at 6:00 tomorrow, but some little problem with the Saab has to be taken care of before we drive it 700 miles, so he's going to see Fred at 7:00 tomorrow. I've got the packing done, except that I have to sort out my knitting tools, because I want to take my new coat to work on. I wanted to buy a parka zipper during Friday's shopping trip, but I found that Alfred's shortest parka zipper was 24" long and my center front is 22" long, so I bought a 20" jacket zipper. Better choice of colors in the jacket zippers anyway. I'm going to have to rip out the sleeves again. I'm going to wear out the yarn. Luckily, I got one sleeve far enough along to see that it wasn't working before ripping back the other, so I'll have ripped out only three beginnings. I wonder if I'll have to wait until next fall to wear it! And I can't find my sneakers. I've got a clue to disposing of the extra spaces in my headlines. The classi- fieds were printing erratically, and I found that the headings were proportional instead of fixed-space -- I use fixed space on the classified page so that people can predict how many lines their ads will run. So I edited "P-for-Pica," the 10-pitch code, and I think I can use the mistake to make the headlines on proportional pages stop print- ing fixed-space. But I'll need a spare print code to make it work. I haven't used Prestige any; perhaps I can re-redefine "M." Couldn't think up any mnemonic to connect "M" with "prestige" except "mmm .... dunno" -- connecting "M" with "double- high, double-wide" isn't going to be easy either. "M" for "Headline type"? When "M" was up-and-up, I called it "M-for- Mountain;" maybe "mountain" will do for big type. 15 March 1993 I've got exactly one month to get my driver's license renewed. The roads were clean and dry the whole way home, but Dave kept complaining that he'd missed the Blizzard of the Century. As soon as we got the suitcases inside, he ran off to collect the latest gossip and hasn't been seen since. I've already done a load of white wash, which I thought stupid as soon as it was too late to change it, because the load I've got in now might get interrupted & one doesn't like to let dyed clothes soak overnight. But I felt that I had to put it in, because a note on our counter -- appears to have been hung on the doorknob before the storm -- says that our electricity will be interrupted tomorrow. Upon re-checking the note, I see that it says exactly when the power will be out and it's only two hours; I could have washed around it. The cats will be sorry we're back -- the six empty cans imply that Patty has been feeding them double rations. They were happy enough to see us today, because six cans also suggest that she couldn't get in yesterday. (They still have dry food in their bowl.) All three met us at the door; we'd thought Fred and Frieda would sulk until we went to sleep and could be checked out safely. Erica dashed out at once. She's been out a second time, but didn't stay long either time; this isn't barefoot weather and the walls of snow don't leave much to do out there. Dave thought she would climb one of the banks while he was taking pictures of our parking lot, but she didn't pose for him. Seemed as though we'd hardly gotten to Indiana before we were headed back. I never did get a tenderloin. Also forgot to make Dave stop for cheese, but I don't think we passed a supermarket on the way to the interstate anyway. I didn't want to buy it the day before. I might yet find colby at Cowan and Lobel. Dave likes Deleted'va Good colby, which is available everywhere here, but I refuse to buy food that I can't mention in a family newsletter. Doug had plowed the driveway, but there was a knee-high wall where snow had drifted against the garage, and I won't even try to clear the back door; it's just as convenient to come in through the garage. Dave made a shovel-wide path through the drift against the garage door. It's a good thing he had the remote opener, because it would have been hard to reach the switch. The inside of the drift is a neat mold of the panels of the door; I rather hate to deface it. Howsumever, it has to go before the Toyota goes anywhere. It won't be leaving before Dave gets it an appointment at the Auto Werks, though; the muffler is dangling precariously and other things are wrong. So maybe now I'll get back on the bike. I _think_ I've rounded up my split mittens, polypropolene T-shirt, wool jerseys, alpaca tights, etc. Before we left, Dave suggested that I might have left my sneakers on the bike after going for milk, and there they were. I wore them only once, but I was called upon to step into a patch of snow that once. Never had any use for my insulated waffle stompers, for which I am grateful. What happened to sulking? Frieda is on my lap, licking my hand, and playing hard-to-offend. (I've knocked her off several times; she used to blank the screen of the TRS-80 by persisting until she'd built up a charge & seems to be determined to find out how many passes it takes to do that to a Compaq. If I weren't using a word processor, this passage would consist entirely of typos. 20 March 1993 One day I got to the mail before Margie did, then realized that you can't get to her front door. The snow was unmarked between the houses, so she hasn't been coming and going by the back door either. I tried her garage door and it was locked, so I put her mail back into her box. Later, I decided to chip a hole through the wall, but when I went to scope out the problem, I discovered that the snow is as high as the bank all the way across her yard. Yesterday I decided that I couldn't tolerate the garbage in the garage any more, and I'd just thrown out some solidified gravy the crows would love to have, so I put on my sneakers, picked up the overflowing bucket, and kicked steps into the snowbank. The front of the bank was as easy as stairs; the back was softer. Then there was a couple of yards where the crust would hold me, a small drift, and I was in the wind-tunnel between the house and the trees, where there was so little snow that I didn't even leave tracks. Well, says I, if walking in the snow is that easy, I'd better climb Margie's bank and re-think the mail. The eddy in front of her door is the reverse of ours: less than a shovelful of snow keeps the door from opening. If it isn't frozen hard, I can kick it out of the way. On the other hand, she might never think of looking in a sealed door for the mail. I've been driving the Toyota: Fred replaced the muffler while we were gone. It still needs a trip to the Auto Werks. The dawn & dusk lines on Geoclock are perfectly straight today. Dave is watching to see whether it changes from 0.00S to 0.00N at 9:41. Well, _that_ was worth exactly what I paid for it. Got a package in the mail from Okidata today. "?" says I, then, upon seeing the contents, "Oh, yes, I did mail the card offering a free "Okismart Typer Utilities" program. The disk is blank. Better climb the bank again -- oh, Margie said "knee deep in front of my door," not "knee deep across my door." 21 March 1993 But it's a good high-density blank disk. Yesterday I washed the dishes, then helped Dave rub shoe polish into his leather jacket. Should have done it the other way around, because the polish sank so deep into my oil-free skin that I've still got one antique-finish fingerprint. But the stuff worked so well on the jacket that I think I'll rub the rest of it into the leather chair just before we leave, when there won't be any risk of somebody sitting in it before it's dry. I'm finally making bean soup with the smoked-porkchop bones. Smells pretty good. Used only half a cup of great northerns, for fear of overwhelming the few small bones, then repented and threw in a potato. Just finished hemming the sheets that I bought at Lowery's fabric store in Warsaw. The sheeting tore so easily that there weren't any puckered edges to steam-press flat, which makes me wonder how they are going to wear. One would think that quilters, who are the only people buying wide fabric nowadays, would want better fabric to make something they put so much work into. I was a little freaked to pay ten dollars a yard for sheets, but if I were going to all the trouble of piecing and quilting, I'd not flinch too much at paying fifteen dollars a yard to hold it together. Trouble is, it's young people who make the artsy tea-dyed quilts, and they've been taught that you have to have synthetics to get long wear. Finally finished reading "A History of Costume," and was very little enlightened. Too much visual information presented in the form of words, and what I really wanted to know was how techniques developed and how materials affect design. The book was written for people putting on historical plays. The book, which was written before 1876 and translated into English in 1928, will benefit from re-translation into hypertext. Then when Khler says, "the justacorps was revived," you'll have a prayer of finding out what a justacorps was. You can tell that the author died while hoop skirts were still in fashion. In "1807 dresses were so tight that it was almost impossible for the wearer to walk in them ... the width of the skirt at the foot rarely exceeded 250 cm." ("Foot" was used to translate a word that appears to have meant "lower edge;" when applied to skirts, it seems to mean the hem.) I blinked, refused to believe that a tight skirt was two and a half meters around, and divided by 2.5 to see how much that was in inches. (Couldn't do 2.54 in my head.) Nancy's letter (From the Home of the Rundells) says "shall I save this [letter] before..." -- I learned this the easy way, then learned it several times the hard way: when in doubt, save. Makes me nervous to watch Dave using PC-Write. Whenever I pause for any reason, I hit "F1, F3." Dave won't even consider it, no matter how dangerous the maneuver he's about to try, or how little he understands what he's doing. Sometimes I _do_ hit F2 by mistake, but it saves before it exits unless you tell it not to, and reloading takes only a few seconds. Camp Pinnacle had an alarm drop about 3:00 this morning. For once, there was actually something wrong: a leaky roof had run into the alarm box. Dave says that if it had been a fire, they couldn't have put it out because none of the roads in the camp had been plowed. They called a "signal 15" at 3:33, but Dave didn't come home until after 6:00. When I asked how it could take so long to clean up the trucks, he said "we went out to breakfast afterward." Later, just when I'd finished the Sunday paper and a bowl of rice-flour mush, he came down, looked in the fridge, and said "I wonder why I'm not hungry." 24 March 1993 New Salem was called to a nine seven this morning; luckily, Dave had just fin- ished his breakfast. Somebody turned left in a passing zone without looking back, I hear. Nose into side at high speed; called for fire police, the "Jaws," an Advanced Life Support team, two ambulances, and a flatbed or two, from at least four districts. They closed 85 at Crow Ridge; a short time after the wrecker arrived & I figured there wasn't to be any more news on the radio, I went out to mail a letter and waited quite a while for the string of cars to pass before I figured out what had happened and dashed across the road through a hole in the traffic. I'm surprised more of them didn't go down Crow Ridge. Got to the gym on St. Pat's day and again on Monday. Should have gone today, but if I go tomorrow, I've still got a chance to finish my card before the cruise. Last week I was creaking an groaning in the locker room, hardly able to pick my towel off the floor, and said "You can tell I haven't been here in a couple of weeks." When I started to fill in the card, I saw that it had been closer to a month. The exercises went easier than the suiting up did. I think I actually continued to gain range of motion during the layoff, but then I did make some feeble efforts to go through my warm-ups now and again. I seem to be rather easily distracted when I exercise. 26 March 1993 Went to the Poets meeting yesterday. I recited a poem I hadn't written yet, and here it is, for the very first time on paper: March 20, 1993, at 9:41 (with apologies to Anonymous) Spring has sprung but the grass ain't riz, and I wonder where my garden is. Less than a foot of the shoulder-high pile in the flowerbed is left now. 27 March 1993 Sandy called a while ago to say that Darryl will pick us up at 7:15 in the morning. I'm packed, but she's still modifying a bathing suit to make it cover some of her behind. I settled for a pair of black polyester bermuda shorts and a gray halter top, the one I bought from Womyn's Wheel. It was marked down, so I ordered another, and a black athletic bra. They had sold out the top, but the bra came today. It's quite respectable, or will be when I succeed in covering the ink- repellent "JB" on the shoulder, so I stuffed it into one of the suitcases. Just now realized that the logo is my initials; should have left it alone. I don't think I'd want to wear it in the water, because the lining is cotton. I have visions of sitting in a deck chair knitting, but I don't want to haul a huge bag along, so I left my unfinished coat behind. Took some #10 thread, a crochet hook, and two tatting shuttles, though. Found that my stash is _very_ picked-over. Only three novels left, and I don't much like any of them. Oh, well, that makes them last longer. Forgot to buy a granola bar, so I put some apricots, prunes, almonds, and walnuts into my purse. Egad, I forgot the aspirin. Found a dead rabbit in the road when I went out for the paper. It was on the Campbell's side of the line, but they don't live here any more, so I scraped it onto a snow shovel and carried it to the compost heap. I hope the crows dispose of it before the bed of ice I left it on melts. I also hope it's too dead to appeal to Erica by the time we come back and let her out. It might could be that I could have dug a hole; the snow has been melting about as fast as it can soak in. The predominant ground color is still white, but I expect it all to be gone by the time we get back. The pussy willows sticking up out of the snowbank have gray catkins on them. I imagine that a willow rather likes being buried in slowly-melting snow. 5 April 1993 I've got a start on the spring cleanup: on the way back from the mailbox, I noticed a couple of spruce branches on the ground, carried them around back, and threw them onto one of the pine branches. Then I pulled each branch a few inches closer to the burning-spot to let the grass under it get some air. I've been trying to teach Frieda that my lap isn't comfortable when I'm typing, but all she's learned is that getting your fur rubbed backwards is a good way to get rid of loose hairs. The patch of snow remaining in the garden is nearly rectangular, and covers all the garlic patch, plus one row that I didn't plant but might have. I'd better get over to Olsen's or Price Greenleaf soon; might be fit to plant onions next week or the week after. When the oregano around the birch stump started sticking up through the snow, before we left, the hole in the snow looked like a neat rectangle from the window. The oregano patch is as round as the stump. I didn't wade out to see what was going on. We enjoyed the cruise, though I wish it had started from the Port of Albany. It was a long haul to get to Port Canaveral, first hitching a ride to Albany Airport, then flying to Orlando, then by chartered bus to Port Canaveral -- by way of a traffic jam caused by construction, but by the time we got to the blockage whatever had caused it was gone, or maybe I blinked and missed it. Saw a lot of prime Florida farmland along the way, which gave me a point of comparison in Freeport. The tour guide said that almost all of the food, including tropical fruit, sold in the Bahamas is imported -- consequently, the prices are dreadful, because there are such high duties. Yet the pine and palmetto we were passing looked exactly like what the Florida farmers cleared off to make orange groves and pastures. I didn't even see any swamp on Grand Bahama. (We never got far from the harbor in Nassau.) So we finally arrived on board the ship, found "Empress" deck, and, after two or three laps around "the boutique," found our cabin. Haven at last! We threw open the door to reveal a dingy, dark box almost filled by a very small bed; every color in the room was very busy not-showing dirt except for a floral poster under cracked plexiglas, and two orange life jackets on the bed. I pointed at the jackets and said, "We're supposed to find chocolates on our bed." We did get the chocolates: one on each pillow, on a paper doily that said "sweet dreams," every time Dennis turned down our bed. Upon closer inspection, the brown walls proved to be wood panels, the black bedspread was clean black with a small design in bright colors, the floor was carpeted, the air conditioning worked fine, the bed, though not king-size, was a full double, and there was enough room for both of us to change clothes at once -- as long as we didn't both want something out of the dresser at the same time. I'd call the bath roomy, considering that it's on a boat. And the shower was generous; the water tanks were installed when the ship was on a trans-Atlantic run, and it's never more than a few hours out of port on the Florida-Bahamas route. Water in the Bahamas is cheap; one tour guide said that sweet water was the only thing they had plenty of. The toilet, on the other hand, seemed to the original Atlantic model. The first time I flushed it, I thought it was a chemical toilet. After a while, I realized that you are supposed to hold the lever down. For size, the bath was a strip off one side of the cabin just wide enough for the shower stall, three-fourths enclosed for the shower and toilet, and the rest a square alcove for the sink and medicine chest. This separate lavatory was very handy when we were both trying to get ready for the dress-up dinner and both of us were dirty and late! Between the bed and the bath was just enough room to walk, with a small chest of drawers filling up the end of the aisle. In the corner opposite the chest, on the hallway bulkhead (they aren't really thick enough to call walls) was a square closet, and between the closet and the foot of the bed was just enough room for a little stool to sit on when you change your shoes. At first I wondered where we would put our suitcases, but later realized that there was plenty of room under the bed. I could have used the hardside hanger case like a drawer, but because we were only out for three days there was plenty of room in the closet and the little dresser. The lavish meals were in part offset by the floor plan: no matter where you want to go, you have to go up or down stairs to get there, and often have to go up one and down another. It was difficult to learn to find my way around the ship; not all the decks are continuous -- at least not to the passengers -- and there seemed to be dozens of ways to get from here to there, so that you could be where you'd been and not realize it. I suppose the connectedness is in part a safety measure, in case one path is blocked by fire or damage or orders to shut the watertight doors. All elevators were in pairs, and some of the stairs were too. I finally learned to recognize the decks: Coral Pool, not accessible (to passengers) except by elevator, and only two patches of it. I never did go down the stern elevator to the infirmary, only to the Coral Pool and Sauna forward. Then Riviera Deck, with the Flamingo dining Room and no outside. The Main Deck, with the purser's office, also no outside. Upper deck, with a little patch of open deck at the stern. Empress has an "Enclosed Promenade," like a glassed-in porch, on each side, and the swimming pool at the stern. Next was Promenade, with open deck running the full length on each side, too narrow to meet someone at the bases of the davits supporting the lifeboats overhead, and the Seaview Bar with loud band at the stern. The middles of the promenades on the Sports Deck were crew- only, presumably because of the life boats, so you have to climb up to the Sun Deck and down again to get to the snack bar at the back of Sports Deck. The Sun Deck is wrapped around the smokestack forward, and has intake stacks for the ventilators aft. You can climb up from there to the Observation Deck, which is wrapped around what I take to be the fan rooms for the ventilators. They kept the seamen out of sight -- you had to get way up to the Kiddie Pool on the Sports Deck -- or maybe it was the Empress Deck; the ladders were confusing at the front -- and spy down on the plat- form where they keep the bow hausers to see anybody dressed for work. They also tended to dock and undock at night or during supper. In Freeport we took a bus tour of Grand Bahama. Not a great deal to see except other tourists; the Bahamians are very poor. The following afternoon, I went for a walk and found the Nassau Public Library, and it looked about like the one in Westerlo. It was very good despite being shabby and small, and I've have liked to leave a little something, but they weren't expecting tourists so there wasn't any little box, and the librarian happened to be elsewhere when I left. The bus tour (we're back on Grand Bahama) stopped for a while at a public garden with a small museum, and a thriving "straw market" between the bus-park and the garden. The museum was mostly about the construction of the islands: small bits of limestone, so porous that there is a "lens" of fresh water under each island. There were also a few artifacts, but we had to hurry out to catch the bus. I paused to buy a poncho-shirt on the way back to the bus, same design as my old one but with a navy background instead of white, and the fabric seems to be of better quality. I saw other designs in Nassau. We took the glass-bottom boat tour on our morning in Nassau - the clear tropical water made the harbor like an oversized aquarium; a convenient coral reef harbored hoards of colorful fish. The reef looked like nothing but scattered rocks lying on the bottom, but the instant we drifted over sandy bottom, all the fish were gone. I saw what I took to be a ceramic pot lost during settlement days, but later noticed a pot with a baby pot by its side. The old tire was clearly identified by the guide, as a broad hint not to throw anything over- board. He also pointed out a three-foot barracuda several yards from the boat. The barracuda may have had something to do with the other fish sticking close to the reef. We didn't mind waiting for two or three other shifts to take their turns looking through the glass bottom, because the weather was so clear that day that you could see better by looking over the side. 6 April 1993 We had splendid weather the entire trip, and everyone assured us that it had been lousy for weeks. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Today I took a lap around the super- market and came out with sore feet. I thought that that had healed up. I swore after the England trip that I'd practice walking before my next tour, but by the time the cruise came along, I'd forgotten about it. I'd have put a lot of wear on my shoes even if we had never gone ashore: our cabin was forward, and the dining room was aft. If I'd been able to walk farther, I'd have had more fun. Sandy had the skin worn red and raw all over her feet. 8 April 1993 The annual spring complaint: the snow has melted off enough to start work, and I'm soft from sitting around all winter. Now I _really_ regret all those trips I didn't make to the gym! I moved two carts of mulch from the pile on the strip where I want to plant grass to the patch under the grape vine -- two or three more loads should complete the job, then I can put the rest of the mulch on the sprouted potatoes, by way of getting them into the garden before it's dry enough to dig. Also carried two boxes of cat litter up from the cellar, sifted it, and mulched a square yard of flowerbed. There are many more loads to go; you can't tell that I cleaned the cellar at all. Rode to Voorheesville yesterday to mail a package, and rode there again today to transfer money to pay taxes with into the checking account. Not much of a trip, but riding two days in a row is unusual for me. Seemed to be well within my capacity, so I should suit up again tomorrow and go to Stonewell. (What do I do for motivation?) How long have we been home? Today I finally cleaned out the suitcases, then put the overnight case inside the flight bag and put the flight bag inside the hanger case. Now I've got to clean off the bed! There are only a few things on the bed, but I don't know where I keep any of it. One item is a pack of cards that was left on our dresser the first night. Took me a while to identify it, because I was thinking "candy" because of the chocolates. Erica is enjoying the change in the weather. When Dave left after lunch, she frantically demanded to be let in, then when I opened the door, she dashed to the Toyota and hid under it. Dave and I looked at each other and he turned up his hands and shrugged. I think she forgot that it wasn't cold out. The writers' meeting is tonight. I've half a mind to print out the ending to "Two Broken Toys" or "Private Kossel" (same story, different viewpoints) to see whether they can tell from what I've said that the Dairen people don't give the names of living people to their children. It's an important point because the climax is Na- Lin changing her son's name because she has discovered that her husband is still alive. Come to think of it, that scene isn't in the "Private Kossel" version -- being from Quenton's viewpoint, it ends when _he_ realizes that he is still alive. What ho, I'm going to be lucky to get dressed and to the library by 7:00. It's 6:02 now -- and I'm sitting at the computer. Saturday, 10 April 1993 Rained all day today. I'm glad I got the potatoes planted; this should give them a good start. It should also do a good job of washing the additional square yard of mulch I put in the flower bed yesterday. My Joe Rickets strawberries seem to have come through the winter in fine shape. Now I have to keep wild berries out of the bed! The wild berries never bore in the flowerbeds, even though they were often loaded in the lawns, so I don't know whether or not to expect some berries this year. Dave took me to the Auxiliary Fish Fry yesterday, but they were sold out when we got there about fifteen minutes before closing, so we went to the Voorheesville Diner, but there was a line, so we went to the diner in Stonewell Plaza, but they aren't open for supper (Dave had thought they were open on Fridays), so we went back to Voorheesville, and found that there were now seats at the counter, and Dave had fish and I ordered scallops -- both fried, with fries and tartar sauce. Grease galore! We brought two scallops and half a filet home to the cats. I've been giving them bits of fish, but how do I divide two scallops among three cats? I told the advertising manager that I wouldn't put the Clifton Park ad in at this late date unless there was room for it, and there isn't, but I know me: if the ad turns up soon enough, I'll work something out, no matter how many hours it takes. C.P. also wants an insert for June: for once, time to plan for it! Where is Ertugruel with that poster for the Effective Cycling class? If we have an E.C. poster in May, we can spare that E.C. Notebook page until next month, and if it doesn't show up, I'll have _two_ pages I can put the C.P. ad on. If the C.P. ad shows up. 11 April 1993 At last Thursday's writer's meeting I recited another poem: Spring has sprung The grass has riz and my garden's where The crocus is. They said it sounded familiar. I also read a chapter of _The Dying Demon_ to them, since very few people came and we had lots of time. 13 April 1993 Fred and Frieda are sleeping in this morning. I think they have the right idea. Erica, on the other hand, thinks it too cold too lie outside, and will I take that hand off the keyboard and put it on her neck. Which I did, but I find that I'm really bad at typing one-handed. Monday night Dave noticed that someone had bashed our big oak tree. I've been thinking ever since we moved in that I ought to plant a big multiflora bush on the Lawrences' lawn. Pity I didn't do it before it got to be the Lawrences' lawn. There are wheel tracks across their lawn, ending by a big patch of missing bark on the oak. This morning I noticed that the bark is loosened a good way above the wound also; it's sickening to behold when one considers how long it took the tree to achieve its present majesty. Dave called the sheriff and learned that the crash happened between 11:00 and 12:00 on Saturday night. I heard a loud noise in the night, but didn't get up to investigate. He told us to come over today and fill out a form to get a copy of the accident report, but when I went to the substation this morning, the deputy on duty told me that property damage didn't entitle me to see the report unless my vehicle was involved. I was not happy with that assertion; when Mom ran into a telephone pole, she paid for replacing the pole, and I think that when someone runs into a tree, he ought to pay for having the tree attended to. Howsumever, Dave called the Extension this morning and they told us that there is nothing that _can_ be done; just watch it and if bugs move in, call again. But accident reports are public records; they surely don't have a right to keep us from reading ours. I suspect that the deputy on duty is new to the job. And I _am_ curious to know where the limbs piled up around the oak came from. At first glance, I thought the shock had brought down a year's worth of the branches that are always falling off, then I noticed neat sawed ends and looked closer to see that the tree they came from looks nothing like an oak. Dave picked up a small black plastic frame yesterday evening; while I was warming up his lunch today, he went out to take another look at the damage & says that there are car parts all over. Lunch was ham sandwiches, breakfast was ham and eggs, and yesterday's supper was fried ham with potatoes and creamed corn. Dave loves ham, and I've always refused to buy one, but Monday I broke down and bought a small butt half. Supper tonight is macaroni and cheese with pieces of ham stirred in. Breakfast tomorrow will be -- hamburger and cottage cheese. I let us run out of eggs and don't feel like shopping today. I'll get eggs, bread, and milk after delivering the Bikeabout tomorrow. Fitting in the Clifton Park ad was easier than I thought: I decided I didn't want to run that half-page editorial after all, so all I had to do was to find a quarter page of "Other Clubs' News" to put above the quarter-page ad. Took a couple of hours to find the two entries, but in the process I reduced my "papers to be attended to" stack from four inches to three copies of "The Freewheel" that I haven't read, and a letter that I've been meaning to write. The E.C. poster still hasn't showed, but I find that I have a two-page camera-ready Effective Cycling filler from the L.A.W. in my files. Not too good a copy, but it will be legible. I put it _after_ the center spread. So all but page four and the front cover are ready to print, or at least ready to proof. Later: boy, have I got a headache. The computer has decided that three lines on page 13 are to be printed in variable spacing, and nothing I can do will persuade it to do anything different. And there is absolutely nothing to make it resume 10-pitch after printing those three lines. Everything else is ready to paste up, but I can't get a copy of the classified ads. Egad. Suppose that after I compile the table of contents, the front cover decides that it wants to print out in fifteen-pitch? 15 April 1993 Before we got to bed, the night-shift deputy that the dispatcher said would telephone when he came on duty did, and gave Dave the case number so he could request a copy of the report. The dis- patcher could have done the same with much less trouble than that song and dance he gave me. I typed a letter right away and mailed it the next morning. Dave checked the Campbells' trees, to see whether the real-estate agent had been trimming them, but found none that matched the limbs under the oak tree. He did find a small pair of nail clippers among the broken glass and plastic on the lawn, and put it on his key ring. I'm going to have to get that stuff raked up before the grass is tall enough to mow. Monday was eventful even before the discovery. My driver's license was due, and I always have a traumatic experience at DOT, so I'd been putting it off & seri- ously considering going to Schoharie. But I remembered that Lodge's is near the Albany DOT & I need some new underwear, so on Monday I went downtown. But "close" on a bike isn't close when you're afoot; I could have hiked that far, but not with my car in the doubtful custody of the State of New York. Determined to go shopping anyway, I returned by way of Central Avenue and visited the two fabric shops in Northway Mall. Saw nothing to make pants of except 60" corduroy, but I bought a remnant each of black flannel and black calico thinking they will come in handy sometime. And before I went to the fabric shops, I went to Deja Vu and bought a postal scale. It takes up about as much room as a credit card ---- I threw it into the small drawer where I keep pens and pencils ---- it weighs up to four ounces, it's too simple to malfunction, and it cost eight dollars. I've been writing short letters ever since, of course, but I used it to weigh the NSVFD tax return. Found a "Sewers' SourceLetter" in the mail upon return, and sent for some fabric catalogs. The clothing-factory scraps seem particularly promising. Yesterday, after pasting up everything else, I tackled page 14 again, and got a copy by dint of deleting the "Classified Ads" heading _and_ editing the print-control file. I cut a heading out of one of the spoiled copies and pasted it in. I think I can fix it for next month by editing pr.24 again, but it might make mysterious 10- pitch appear on the variable pages. Then I delivered the originals and headed for the gym, but I didn't get into the left lane soon enough, a modular house started passing me, and it was plain that we'd be past my turn before he completed the maneuver, the hill being so steep that I was surprised he would try to pass at all. So I swerved into the 20-mall parking lot intending to get behind the wide load, and decided that as long as I was there I'd check out the Clapp's Card -and book- store. Much to my surprise, I found that their vestigal book collection included a new Hambly. I still have an 11-for-the- price-of-10 card from when they were a book store, so I bought the book ---- may take ten years to fill up the card, and another year to find something to cash it for. Then I was a bit too recently-fed to work out when I got to the gym, so I read a chapter or two before going inside, so of course I had to finish it when I got home & I forgot to go to the MHW board meeting. Didn't want to drive to Scotia looking for a strange pizza parlor after dark anyway. Hope they budgeted a newsletter. Perhaps the Hambly makes up for not performing another errand I was supposed to run in Guilderland yesterday: going to the Book House to buy a reverse dictionary for Dave to give me for my birthday. I mislaid the review, and cannot think where it might be. Time to take down three years of junk from the shelf where I should have put it. Today was fairly uneventful. Dave slept until noon ---- he had come home for lunch the day before, and felt too ill to go back, but seemed better this evening. I caught up on some trivial letter-writing, and in the afternoon carried another couple of loads of mulch to the flowerbeds. That finished the middle bed and started the far bed; I'm saving the near bed for last. Dave was doing some treasurer thing at the bank when I finished the mulching. While I was wetting down the mulch, someone drove up in a van, pointed at the wind- break between the school and Lawrences' and said "there's a fire there on the corner." I said something incoherent and ran in to phone the dispatcher; it was with some difficulty that I selected the correct number from the list posted on the wall; almost phoned Voorheesville. I spoke only a trifle less incoherently to the dispatcher; at first he thought I was talking about the Berne-Knox school. I now know that panic isn't as big a factor in the traditionally- garbled calls for help as lack of practice, for this was a very small fire; I suspected that when I went to look at it, I'd be sorry I called instead of stepping on it, but the memory of the Rat Farm is ever fresh. The woman who spotted the fire was gone when I came out again. Hope the partly-wetted plants didn't get fertilizer-burn; it was a while before I got around to finishing the job. The fire was small, and improving the trashy area it was burning over, but it was too windy a day to burn fence rows, so they put it out. It had been started by a sparking transformer, so they had to stand around a long time waiting for NiMo. Dave came home before the NiMo guy came (Dave had forgotten to wear his pager; I meant to twit him about that, but he saw that he hadn't missed anything before I could tell him he had.). He walked over to talk to the transformer-sitters; I meant to follow him and join the conversation, but when I was halfway there I saw the guy from Eyewitness News with a camera on his shoulder, so I turned back to avoid spoiling the picture. After supper I went for a walk in the schoolyard, having chickened out of the ride I meant to take today. I thought the current generation of children were wimps because I didn't find any paths through the woods behind the school. Did find a lot of trash, though, including a tackling dummy. Also found a bright-blue folding chair and a new-looking camp stool beside an oval of rocks filled with scorched branches. They didn't have the wit to rake the dry leaves away from the fire- place, and charred wood stuck out past the stones. Must have been wet weather at the time. April 20, 1993 Now the question before the house is: were Koresh and his Davidians insane _before_ they spent seven weeks locked up with bullets, tear gas, and loud music coming through the walls? Little happened here. I chickened out of riding to Guilderland to pump iron yesterday, but rode to Voorheesville to mail some letters I had forgotten to put into the box before the mailman came, then rode to New Salem to annoy Dave (who was hanging out at New Salem Garage) and put on two extra miles. Erica is needs pills; I'd like to pick them up by bicycle, but I'm not sure I can build up that far before she runs out. The library is accepting used books for their Memorial Day sale now, which should help with the housecleaning; I've a shopping bag beside the door waiting for me to drive out that way, and I dropped off a small boxful on the way to the post office yesterday. Later on, I realized that I'm going to miss the sale: the ride I'm training for is on Memorial Day Weekend, in Vermont. Cleaned up my collection of H.O.B. magazines & packaged up the duplicates, labeled neatly. Also packaged two volumes of "Women's Circle" I had somehow acquired; I didn't index them, and nobody is ever going to ask me to refer to them. Must ask whether the book sale can dispose of needlezines properly; I'd hate to have them "recycled" when people are writing the pen-pals column to hunt for back issues, but I don't want to be bothered trying to sell them. 21 April 1993 I don't, knock wood, seem to intend to catch whatever it was Dave had. Finally got to Guilderland to pump iron, but was so busy not getting rained on that I forgot to stop at Star. Just as well, as it started raining when I was passing the high school. I got into the garage only slightly damp, but the weather was unpleasant the rest of the day. After lunch and a nap, I went to Stonewell by car. Some trip! I got to Mobil and they didn't have any skim milk, got to Stewarts and they didn't have any parking lot, got to Stonewell and they didn't have any "Small White" bread. All went well at Falvo's, but they were not on my itinerary. (Stopped on impuse for olive loaf and swiss cheese.) Put the remains of the ham on in a mess of beans before the nap. Meant to do that before leaving for Guilderland, but the beans had been put on to soak yesterday, so they were plenty cooked by suppertime. Poor Dave is at a drill and didn't get any. (They usually cook something or send out for pizza.) He likes beans better when they are left over anyway. I've an appointment to pick up Erica's pills tomorrow, but haven't decided how I'll go there. If by bike, I'd better bake some muffins in the morning. I was unduly tired today because I didn't get anything to eat until I got back, and then I stuffed myself. I got most of the books in the shopping bag into my pannier and dropped them off on the way to Guilderland; now I'll have to clean up the spare room some more. On the way out, I worried about getting back, because 155 hasn't been repaired yet and it isn't safe for a lone female to walk up Grant Hill. Lo and behold, the usually- deserted road featured a man and his grown son spreading gravel on enough driveway to keep them around for a week, a very large group of cops or guardsmen at target practice, and, on the steep stretch itself, a Town of Guilderland highway crew! In addition to all that, I didn't have to walk at all, and I was within a few yards of the top before I had to stop and let my heart slow down. Since that was the first long hill I've climbed this year, I'm impressed by my condition. 22 April 1993 It's cold and depressing and wet, but at least it's April weather. I don't want drive to Delmar today, but Erica took her last pill this morning, and in cold, depressing, wet weather she needs her Vetalog. Never did find a reference book that would tell me what Vetalog is. Baked some corn sticks, and they were still warm when Dave came home for lunch, so I gave him corn sticks and leftover bean soup. 23 April 1993 The accident report came today. Took me a long time to figure out how to read it; it's designed to be convenient for people who handle hundreds of them, not to be "user friendly." Though the tracks in the road stated plainly that the car was going too fast to make the curve ---- it traveled a significant distance with the tires dragging sideways ---- the deputy accepted the story that an oncoming vehicle failed to lower its highbeams and crossed the center line, forcing our guy to veer off the road. It was dark and raining at the time; perhaps he couldn't see the tracks, perhaps he thought Arthur would be in enough trouble when Wilhemina found out what he had done to her car. It surprised me to read that he also struck the light pole. The delimiter in front of the pole is undamaged, and I don't see any marks on the pole that I can swear are new. Mulch is shoved up well beyond the scar on the tree, though. The junk I picked up was all on the lawn, and none looked run over or was in a place where it might have been swept off the road, which suggests that the first collision was the only one that sprayed debris. After looking at the light pole, I found some yellow reflector bits I had overlooked. Must work over the area with a leaf broom before mowing. Bagged up my collection of Analogs and Amazings for the library sale, which netted me one large glass-fronted bookshelf. I kept the Astoundings, and put the recent Analogs back, which fills up three-fourths of the back row. The shelf is deep enough to take two rows of digest-size books, with room for another rowfull flat on top of them, and the Analogs I put back had been on the stereo speaker because there was no room for them in the shelf. Hmm. Since four years take up only half a row, and I subscribe to only one SF magazine now, I can dispose of the '89s, '90s, and '91s, move my collection of Threads up onto that shelf, and still have plenty of room for Analog. Must sort through and make sure I haven't given away the Analog with my letter in it. It made me a celebrity in the N3F, and netted us a new member. 6:00: The weather has cleared and it should be dry enough to mow by tomorrow. 24 April 1993 Yesterday I had a classified to type in, and while I was at it, I got "Classified Advertisements" printing properly. Haven't yet checked to see whether I've messed up the other pages, but logic suggests not. Logic doesn't always apply to machines. The clothing-factory swatches came yesterday. When I ordered it, I'd expected that only a few leftovers would be plain or in adult patterns, but I hadn't realized that all would be baby-thin; there's nothing heavy enough to make grown-up pants. I found one fabric that would make a good shirt for Dave, but shipping charges take all the bargain out of it if you want only two yards. If I already had a shirt pattern, I might get a shirt length and also get one of the 60" cottons to make bias tape from, but I think I'll pass up this opportunity. Yesterday I dropped the small pruning shears, and when I bent over to pick them up, there on the floor in plain sight was the furrow-making attachment for the cultivator, which I have been searching for in vain for three or four years. And it was right under the shelf where it belongs. Just in time. The garden might be dry enough to work in tomorrow. The garlic is growing well, but I see no sign of the potatoes. 29 April 1993 I dug down in the mulch yesterday and found a vigorous potato sprout with roots all along its length. I pointed it up a bit, hoping it would make something I could see fairly soon. When I get around to making some high-calorie muffins, I'll use up most of the last sack of raisins, so my plan for today was to go to the gym by way of Normanskill-Johnston and Western, which takes me past Rod Smith's (now called Paradise, because nobody now associated with the store knows who Mr. Smith was), buy some plain yogurt at Star, then come home and take a bath and a nap. Much to my surprise, I didn't want a nap when I got home even though I haven't done that much in one day lately. Perhaps it was because it was past time to get up from my nap by the time I got down. I had scarcely settled into bed when Dave came home and wanted me to go to New Salem Garage with him so I could drive the Toyota home. This being Thursday, he hasn't brought the Saab home yet. Good thing he got me dressed, because I probably would have fallen asleep anyhow, and woke up at bedtime. Spent $32.15 on nuts and dried fruit. That did include two pounds of raisins. Got only yogurt at Star. Wanted desert, since I hadn't been satisfied with the "mini-subb" I'd bought after working out, but chose a flavored yogurt. I used to reject the "lo-fat;" now I reject the "no- fat." The 1% yogurt was edible, but only because I was hungry. This still isn't a good fraction of the 45-mile "easy" route on the Weekend Tour, and I've less than a month to train. At least I've the option of flaking out on the second of the three days. I'd better pack some muffins, though; I think that they are planning to ride to a restaurant for lunch. I've been told I won't be the only one taking the trashy-novel option on Day 2. The training ride after next must be to Canterbury Tales; I'm out of good trash. I've been reduced to reading "The Lusty, Ribald, and Wonderful Misadventures of DAVY THAT IRREPRESSIBLE CHILD OF THE FUTURE," which I bought by mistake for another story about another Davy. None of the "spicy" stuff is disgusting, but it doesn't flavor up the book the way the male author thought it did. I think I'll put it in the book-sale bag unfinished and re-read an old book. It's been a long time since I read a Tarzan story. It's also been a long time since I picked over the Voorheesville Library's SF collection. When I left off a bag of Analogs on my way to Paradise this morning, I noticed that they have acquired a flock of new titles. I could stock up at the library for my day of rest, if library books didn't weigh so much. Hope I can share a ride to the ferry where the ride starts. It's a long drive from here to Essex. I have pushed a cultivator through most of the garden, mowed the back yard, and begun to rake mulch. I've also been drying clothes outside. A few days ago some orange-clad teenagers, presumed to be 4-H kids on an adopt-a-highway project, cleaned up my lawn for me. I didn't find any more debris when I mowed out front last Saturday; they must have pretty sharp eyes. They settled the question of whether or not I'd take the debris up the hill and leave it on the lawn of the fellow who gave it to me. 2 May 1993 The Midwest Micro catalog finally came yesterday, so I told Dave that for his birthday I'd order myself a new computer. Which will leave him undisputed possession of this one. On the other hand, the new one has a mouse and Windows and 210 Mb IDE hard drive; I may find myself running up to the ham shack to write letters on Dave's system while he plays with mine. Also ordered ten new 5" disks and fifty 3.5". I've been hearing about how much more the little ones hold for so long that I figured fifty would be a lifetime supply, but got to reading the description & found that my 3.5s hold less than twice as much as my 5s: 2Mb versus 1.2Mb. Figured I'd be moving all my archives onto a few 3.5s and freeing up most of my old HD disks; now I'm wondering whether maybe I should order a hundred 5s. Have to phone the company in the morning to find out what the shipping charges are, then go to the bank to withdraw a check. ---- on the way to Canterbury Tales, so I'd better clean up the spare room some more tonight. I'd thought that the bookshop was a long trip, but it's only a couple of miles longer than the last ride I took. I used to go to Central Avenue by way of Fuller or 155 ---- usually going by one and coming back by the other ---- and now I cut across on Rapp. On my last trip, I was eating a sandwich at "Mr. Subb" before I realized that I'd gone right past Pedal Power, which is in the same plaza as the health-food shop. They might well have had the gasket I need before I can pump my tires up to full pressure. I'm a bit nervous running around on 80 pounds. I must stop there this time; they'll quite certainly have the new water bottle I need, and might have a cage suitable for the lawn mower. They might even have wool socks, so I'd best not send my order to Womyn's Wheel before seeing what they have. Mowed the front yard this morning. Burned the prunings yesterday, includ- ing the mystery branches left at the scene of the crash. Hope they weren't evidence! Made Dave some chocolate-fudge brownies with chocolate chips and pecans, then sprinkled the rest of the bag of chips over the cake and spread it out for frosting. Dave said it was very chocolate. I should have saved a few whole pecan halves to stick into the frosting. It's probably still soft; could use walnuts or almonds ---- or chop some filberts. 3 May 1993 I put the Presta adapter in my pocket before leaving for Canterbury Tales, because I'd be coming back by way of Gipp Road and could stop at Pedal Power. On the way back over Rapp Road, I passed up the temptation to follow the Six Mile bike path after it narrowed into a dirt foot path, because I wouldn't want to come back over it, so following it to the end would mean coming back by some road other than Gipp. So when I got onto Gipp, I turned off it onto Turnpike and was nearly to Burger King before I realized what I'd done. I had forgotten to eat my muffins; I think my belly took over navigation. Got home exhausted, but I think it was partly because I didn't eat soon enough, because I perked up after supper and now I don't want to go to bed even though I Missed my nap. I got a few necessities at Star after visiting the gym, but I thought it too warm to buy meat and carry it home by bike. Didn't quite make it up Grant Hill this time; whether it was the few extra miles, the delayed muffins, or the books in the pannier, I'm not sure. Chickened out of calling Midwest Micro before I left, and this evening when I noted that I still had fifteen minutes before their switchboard closed, Dave talked me into using my MasterCard to order it by phone, instead of withdrawing a check. I'll have to do that anyhow when the bill comes, but it does postpone the chore. But the card wasn't in the little drawer where I'd put it after my last trip to Indiana. After supper, I cleaned both little drawers out thoroughly, and threw out a lot of expired membership cards, and cut up three store credit cards I'll never need again now that I have a driver's license, but no MasterCard. Dave plans to use his card to buy the computer tomorrow, but where can my card be? I'm going to need it when I go back to Indiana this June. 5 May 1993 Last fall I wrote of my adventures in preserving garlic. I haven't used any of the dried-and-frozen garlic yet. The garlic that I dropped into vinegar is perfectly preserved, strong in flavor, and beautifully crisp. I can't even _cook_ it soft. Wish I knew where I could buy some more 10% vinegar! The garlic that I cooked and froze in olive oil lost so much flavor that you can almost eat it straight; on the other hand, I find that I can easily puree it with a fork: I can make just enough garlic toast for one meal without any fuss, and dirty only one dish. It's a chore to make garlic butter with fresh garlic, and there are always over-large chunks in it. I was surprised that the fresh garlic in the fridge kept well into what should have been spring. The other day, beside the Campbell's driveway, there was a highway cone with a sign reading "Taft" pinned to it. I've been wondering whether that is the name of the folks who have moved in; it looked like the sort of thing you put out when somebody who doesn't know where you are is coming to visit. They haven't labeled their mailbox yet, and I haven't spoken to them, though the woman and I were working in our front yards at the same time more than once. The right-hand ctrl key is sticking again, and it is, of course, the one I use more often. Grrrf. The new computer is to arrive Friday or Monday, and I've been cleaning the spare room to make room for the ham shack. I got a bag and a box of stuff for the library's book sale, which has been very well timed for me this year (even though I won't get to attend it, having plans to be in Vermont on Memorial Day.) I've started filling a bag to take to Canterbury Tales, which I ought to do tomorrow, because I need the exercise, and because I bought the wrong ribbon at ---- I can't remember the name; everybody is MicroSomething or Something Micro and it's all very confusing. Anyhow, I've got to get back there reasonably soon to exchange the ribbon. Hope I remember to stop at Pedal Power this time. I'm going to hate it if it's still raining, but rain or not, I need the exercise. And (groan) I might need the practice, since the date of the Vermont trip is fixed. 7 May 1993 Now I have two overflowing bags and a box for the book sale, and a few volumes that Canterbury rejected are still in my panniers ---- I didn't have time to unload last night. Little man, I had a busy day. I decided to add picking up a Vermont map to the trip, to make it a little longer than the previous one. Then I realized that I had a dental appointment on the day I needed to ride. No sweat, the appointment was at 8:45 AM, so I could suit up before breakfast and ride to the dentist; it wasn't even out of my way. Then while eating breakfast, Dave realized that Mother's Day is this Sunday, not next Sunday, and he wouldn't be able to buy a card before it was too late to mail it. There's a card- and-gift shop a few doors from the book shop where I meant to buy the map, and a post office across the parking lot, so I promised to buy a card, forge his signa- ture, and mail it. Later, he said that the previous evening's fire-company board meeting had decided to send postcards to all the members, and he needed to get them into today's mail, but he couldn't be late for work, and I had to leave for my ride on time on account of the dentist. So he wrote the message, brought the mailing list up to date, and we both left with the printer still going. I got my teeth cleaned (no new cavities!), picked up some cash at the bank, came back, addressed the cards, used up all his 19 stamps, took the cards to the post office, bought another sheet of stamps ---- and furthered the education of an apprentice clerk by asking for a receipt ---- and mailed them. In the wrong slot, but it shouldn't slow them up much. I thought that because of the extra five miles, I wouldn't need to go to Stuyvesant Plaza, but I had promised to buy the card. Had a bagel and soup at Brger's, paying cash because I'd forgotten to bring my Editor of the Century award. Hope there isn't an expiration date on the certif- icates. I indulged in ratatoulle, to my regret. There aren't any calories in rattatoule; it's nothing but salad warmed up in tomato juice. Luckily, I had forgotten that I would be passing a place to eat when I was getting muffins out of the freezer, and brought plenty. Took a turn through Tough Traveller, and saw a purse just right for airplane rides, but it didn't have a shoulder strap. Gone have to make up my mind soon, be- cause the paper says that this Tough Traveller is moving soon, and I can't get to their other store in Schenectady. When I went into Alfred's to glance at the clear- ance fabrics, two women in brown sun- bonnets and dark-blue dresses were check- ing out. At first glance, I took them for nuns, then thought they must belong to a sect akin to the Dunkards and Amish, though I'd never heard of any such thing in this area, except for the extinct Shakers. When I came out again they were talking to a woman in shorts and T-shirt, and had acquired a baby in a habit matching theirs. The baby rules out nuns, and other religious women dress in a style, not in a uniform, so I think they must have been taking part in a play or re- enactment somewhere. I was wildly curious to see how the costumes were made; I do hope I didn't stare rudely. The bookstore was out of Vermont maps. Ran into Darryl, though; after I told him I'd gotten his plea for Century volunteers, he asked me to read it at the meeting because he couldn't attend. From Stuyvesant to Rapp by 20, which I dislike. The "bike lane" was even dirtier than usual, as is usual in spring. As I was crossing the Northway some machine in the distance started making a "which- which" noise that had me looking for dangling bungee cords and loose bolts. At the meeting, Trudy said that Herb refuses to use Rapp because it is so rough, but the traffic is light enough that one can ride around the potholes and some of the patches. And the really rough part is short. The folks at the computer shop were exceedingly nice about taking the ribbon back, and tried to make out that it was their mistake instead of mine, but they didn't have the right ribbon in stock, so they are going to call me when it comes in. I did make it to Pedal Power. He had a gasket for my presta adapter, and a bottle cage for my lawn mower, and I bought a bright yellow water bottle, because all mine are getting ratty -- except the pink one that never worked right in the first place. (I opened and closed the yellow one before I bought it.) He was also clearing out some italian shoes that lace to the toe and have the cleats I want, for $20 a pair, but the shortest was 40 and I take a 39. The 40 was a trifle narrow, so I don't suppose I could have worn a 39 of that brand anyhow. This workout was better than the pre- vious time, when I'd been hungry. I was hungry this time too, but eager hungry, not weak hungry. No visible progress on the frozen shoulder ---- I'm near enough recovered that I guess I can't expect to see progress every visit. But I could feel that the new exercise is doing good, and I'm getting to the gym often enough that my weights are going up. I barely had time to undress into the washer, bathe, change, eat a liverwurst sandwich, hang up my suit to dry, and pull a proof of the front page (which is where I'd put Darryl's announcement) before going to the last monthly meeting of the season. I was five minutes late, but one of the speakers didn't show, and people seemed reluctant to leave the refreshments, so the president let them gossip an extra half hour ---- and still had trouble getting everyone to sit down. Maybe we should forget programs and just party. The remaining speaker was a pep talk for ISTEA (pronounced "ice tea") and how we have to fight for our piece of the pavement, which I found boring, but the rest of the group is more politically inclined. And they haven't had all those documents passing through their hands; only about three held up hands to say that they knew what "MPO" stood for. Got to bed after eleven. First I opened an envelope I'd forgotten when I hastily sorted the mail before leaving. I'd thought it a late contribution to the Bikeabout, but it was instructions for the Memorial Day trip. We meet at Exit Twelve, put baggage into the U-Haul truck, arrange car-pools, drive to Essex, and park at the ferry. I'm going to have to get the music books and the old "Writer"s out of the car before then. No room for a bike in there, let alone two. And on the trip, am I going to have to stop and shop every five miles? You get what you train for. I feel better today than I did the day after my previous trip ---- but I'm still hungry. Trudy (the refreshment chairman) brought fresh pineapple, fresh straw- berries, brown crackers, cheese, brownies, iced tea (mentioned by our speaker), and lemonade. I pigged out. Dave brought a couple of disks home at lunchtime today -- one 3 and one 5 -- and said they were games to play on the new computer. The UPS man came before Dave went back to work, and we started to unpack the boxes. The computer is much larger than I expected; I thought these things were getting smaller and smaller. 9 May 1993 We have the new computer up and run- ning, but have yet to move the old one upstairs. At the moment, the printer isn't connected to it. I wanted to use the T switch to connect both computers, and do without the daisy wheel while we were changing over. Dave said that it would work, but he didn't want to re-arrange that many cables, particularly since most of them are hard to get at. We had it connected yesterday, and I pulled several proofs by trotting back and forth with disks of data ---- I don't want to transfer any working files until I can move all of them. Today Dave had to print some checks, and those files are to stay in his computer, so he put the printer cable back the way it was. We've spent more time playing games than studying. Computer games are dangerous ---- you can be passing by, de- cide to remove a couple of tiles, and the next thing you know, it's an hour later. Dave was right when he said I'd use the mouse. I don't like the flailing about ---- I'm always clicking something and being told that I clicked something else ---- but Windows is carefully designed so that you can't work without it. I think I'll use Word for Windows for publishing. It's a mite complex for writing letters, but I'll probably use it for that to save knowing two programs at once. And Bob (the president) is about to put a "How to Use PC-Write" book on my editor's budget. Hope I can find someone who scans the way Sir Speedy copies. I'm amazed that Sir Speedy doesn't. Must call around: there are several copy shops in my range of travel, and many more that I could reach if I had to. On Saturday, Dave got his copy of the mailing I did on Thursday, so we presume that everyone knows about the special meeting. I noticed some leaves sticking up through the mulch on the potato bed this morning. High time I bought some onion sets. 12 May 1993 As soon as Dave persuaded Drive C to stop freaking out every time I ask PCWrite to back up the document I'm opening, Drive B died. Wish I'd taken time to copy Bob's disk when the mail came yesterday, instead of rushing off to get the shopping done before it was time to put the hen on the spit. And when I finally got Bob's tribute to John Grasso in the machine -- Dave took it to work and copied it, and I went in to fetch it as soon as I got the wash off the line, and went on to Price Chopper because we were running low on cat litter and spaghetti sauce & Star and Stonewell don't sell the kinds we use. Picked up a box of yogurt while I was at it, and a dozen cans of cat food. The stockpile of cat litter made an impressive basketload; I was tempted to say "would you believe I came here for a 3" disk?" When I got the obituaries arranged, they filled up a whole page, but somehow we still have only fourteen pages -- which is _not_ a power of two. And I promised to deliver tomorrow. Well, I didn't say tomorrow _morning_. But I had planned on getting some training in afterward. I've got some good filler from Bike- centennial, but it's formatted for people who use three columns and I can't do that gracefully in Courier. Word for Windows includes a nifty Times Roman, and makes columns easily, but at halfway through the how-to-start-learning program (it lets you actually push buttons, and scolds you when you push the wrong one) I account myself a genius because I was able to produce a satisfactory copy of a simple letter. Leastways it would have been satisfac- tory if I'd had a new ribbon. I'm reserv- ing the good one for reproduction copies until I get a new backup. Had to use it for part of the last addition of the Banner, though, because the old one got so pale you couldn't read it at all. 13 May 1993 I thought having an extension of the enter key where the \| key used to be would be a problem, because "\" is part of every pathname and ctrl| is my dash. It has proven to be a bigger problem that \| is where the backspace used to be. 18 May 1993 Still haven't heard from Logical Micros. Wonder if they called when I was out or mowing the lawn? I've given up and put the new ribbon on, after getting a reproduction copy of the membership list. WEB34 can wait until the new ribbon comes, if this one gets pale before I get around to laying it out. May 25, 1993 Rode out to Logical Micros last Friday, and dumped some books at Canter- bury Tales while I was there. (Bought some too, of course.) I got back feeling better than when I left! That's partly because I had bronchitis and the cramps when I left, but I think it was mainly because I forgot to put cough drops in my pocket and bought mints at Brooks when I stopped in Stuyvesant Plaza for lunch. Since mint isn't as effective as eucalyptus, I had a candy in my mouth almost con- stantly. I think the sugar is what kept me from getting tired. Unfortunately, "Brooks Silver Mints" taste terrible, so I don't think I can do it again, now that my cough is better. I'm planning to ride downtown and visit Lodge's, where I hope to buy some under- wear. I'm not at all looking forward to the trip ---- that's a trivial reason to ride so far, and downtown is _not_ a pleasant place to ride ---- but if I don't get some exercise today, I'll never be able to ride 45 miles this coming Saturday. This morning Dave set out to show me that BACKCOVR.DOC would print all in one piece, and ended up asking me to make a copy of the file so that he could try it on the machine at work. I think the program is neglecting to tell the printer that the page is 17" long; perhaps a study of the printer manual would tell me how to change the defaults just before printing. I mustn't try that this morning, though, or I'll never get dressed and get on the bike. 26 May 1993 That evening I came home to find Dave fiddling with BACKCOVR.DOC & told him of my idea. He called up the printer's menu and found that not only is 17" one of the menu choices (in Word, one has to type it in, in two places, in two different units of measurement), we could set it to apply only to paper fed from the top. Since we use the top path only for hand-fed paper, we can leave it set that way and not have any interference with continuous paper. So he tried once more, and got a complete copy of the back cover. We even figured out a way to make my bold black lines narrower, though not so narrow as I would like. They are four points wide and I think one point would be plenty. Had a pleasant ride, but Dave thinks it was twenty miles, not thirty. I must measure a map. I stopped at Westgate and found that JoAnne was having a special on the kind of sleazy muslin we used to buy at five yards for a dollar, at only 69/yard, so I bought ten yards to keep on hand. There was also a sale on muslin suitable for pillowcases, but it was only 38" wide. I've made perfectly satisfactory pillowcases from 39" fabric, but I wasn't sure 38" fabric would do, and I expected it to shrink. 29 May 1993 We're off! My back doesn't hurt as much as it did yesterday, but I don't know about driving all the way to Essex. I may pick up a ride at exit 12. It wasn't fun trying to get ready yesterday when I felt very, very tired every time I stood up. On Thursday, when I leaped from the keyboard suddenly aware that I was fifteen minutes late for an Auxiliary meeting (luckily, we were planting flowers and I still had on my gardening clothes) I found that I had stiffened up while sitting, and I've been cripping around ever since. Dave also has a backache, and so does Margie. Is it contagious?