1 June 1993 
      Home again, and packing furiously.  
   Sometime in there I figured out that the 
   way to make the line-drawing feature work 
   was to use the keyboard instead of the 
   mouse.  I've forgotten which keys, but I 
   can look it up in Help again.  
      I've ordered a book on how to use 
   Word.  
      I rode from Saratoga Village "Park and 
   Ride" to Essex with Herb Insley, and came 
   back with Lahel and Linda, who happen to 
   ride at my pace and had room for another 
   bike and rider in their truck.  When we 
   were having a belated lunch in an excellent 
   truck stop ---- and thinking it amazing to 
   find food that good when we stopped at 
   the first place that was open ---- I 
   mentioned the Bikeabout and they didn't 
   know what I meant, so I think they are 
   from Schenectady Wintersports, rather than 
   the Wheelmen.  We made our arrangements 
   to travel together first and introduced 
   ourselves later.  
      It was Linda's first big bike trip, and 
   she acquitted herself very well, managing 
   to keep up on a mountain bike, and, on 
   occasion, passing me on an uphill.  If she 
   had any competitive spirit, the Brueger's 
   team would be after her.  I don't think she 
   realizes how strong she is, because she 
   doesn't know how much help toe clips, 
   high-pressure narrow tires, etc. are.  And 
   she was exhausted.  I didn't see her hang- 
   ing around the lodge while I was resting, 
   so I think she rode on all three days.  
      My timing was perfect: it rained on 
   Saturday while we were riding up, was 
   sunny and in the sixties (perfect riding 
   temperature) while I read books beside the 
   fire, and for the trip back, I didn't bother 
   to put on any sunscreen.  Didn't start to 
   rain in earnest until after we got onto the 
   ferry, though.  
      I'd thought the lodge was an old 
   farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, but it 
   is on the main drag near a lot of places to 
   go ---- Ben and Jerry's ice-cream factory is 
   only two miles down the road.  So all the 
   other stay-at-homes were constantly coming 
   and going and exclaiming on how much fun 
   they were having.  But I've learned from 
   experience that for me a short ride the day 
   after a ride that hurts is an invitation to 
   disaster, so I settled for the attractions I 
   could walk to: the "Old Cider Mill" sou- 
   venir shop next door, and the convenient 
   store across the road.  
      The last few miles of the 45-mile ride 
   on Saturday were very unpleasant for me; 
   I was astonished, on the way back, at how 
   soon we reached the store where I'd made 
   my last pit stop.  But, except for the time 
   while it was raining and the cold made my 
   knees hurt, I was never worried that I was 
   damaging myself, and I felt good on 
   Sunday.  For one thing, my backache was 
   much better; I recall a cough or sneeze 
   getting aborted once, but for the most part 
   the creaky care with which I stood up and 
   sat down was more habit than necessity.  
      We came back over the same route 
   yesterday, and it didn't bother me a bit.  
   That was partly because Essex Ferry is 
   lower than Waterbury, but there was still a 
   lot of climbing to do.  I think I walked 
   more hills on the way back than on the 
   way up.  I really think I could have done 
   the 55-mile Burlington route (it was much 
   less hilly than the straighter route) but I 
   wasn't at all sure I could connect with the 
   truck carrying my suitcase, or find a ride 
   back to Saratoga.  It turned out that the 
   folks who went that way got rained on 
   thoroughly, so I'm not as disappointed at 
   missing the longer ferry ride as I might 
   have been.  A ferry ride in the rain isn't 
   much fun anyway; we went into the cabin 
   and stayed there.  Since there were plenty 
   of unoccupied seats, I stretched out on one 
   of the benches for a few minutes, which I 
   think stood me in good stead during the 
   rest of the day.  
                                                           
   13 June 1993 
      What ever happened to stamps that 
   didn't force you to express an opinion?  
   Bring back the coarsely-engraved portraits 
   of dead white males.  
      Had I realized that the sleezy muslin I 
   bought was perfect for adding a skirt to 
   the undershirt I bought the same day, I'd 
   have bought more of it.  I bought a short- 
   sleeved "vest" at Lodge's because I prefer 
   slips with sleeves, and thought that adding 
   a skirt to an undershirt would be easier 
   than making the entire slip.  
      I'm almost unpacked.  Washed three 
   loads of clothes on Thursday, but haven't 
   done much else.  I asked Dave to delete 
   "Minesweeper" from the disk, and the dirty 
   dog did.  Perhaps he was inspired when he 
   came home on Thursday, expecting me to be 
   ready to go to the reception at New Salem 
   Garage, and found me in my shift clearing 
   just one more minefield before taking my 
   after-lunch nap.  
      The book on how to use Word was wait- 
   ing for me.  I'm almost through the section 
   on how to use the book.  I want to tackle 
   "templates" first, but I gather that "fields" 
   is a prerequisite.  I hope to be able to use 
   Word for the August Bikeabout --I've 
   already designed the back cover -- but I 
   think I'll do all my punching-in and editing 
   with PC-write.  Haven't solved the file- 
   switching problem yet.  PC-Write lets one 
   leaf through a series of files as easily as 
   through pages in a book.  I haven't yet 
   found the section on file-managing in Help 
   or the book, let alone how to make a 
   commented directory.  Haven't even found 
   out how one tells whether or not the file in 
   memory matches the file on disk.  When in 
   doubt, save.  
                                                           
   15 June 1993 
      Grump.  Yesterday I carefully got rid 
   of the change weighting my wallet, today 
   I'm on the way to the laundromat to shrink 
   two lengths of new cloth in the jeans and 
   towels dryer.  
      NiMo is supposed to turn the power off 
   this afternoon, if it doesn't rain.  
   Thunderstorms are predicted for the 
   afternoon, but there are cherry-picker 
   trucks all over the place anyhow.  
      I'd been planning to find & reinstate 
   Minesweeper, but Dave did it himself.  
   Spoilsport.  Took him a while.  You don't 
   need to know the name of the *.exe file to 
   turn a program off, but you do need that 
   information to turn it back on.  
                                                           
   16 June 1993 
      The NiMo boys gambled and won.  The 
   power was supposed to be off from 1:00 to 
   3:00, and the predicted rain started at 4:15.  
   I was mowing the back lot at the time, and 
   got so caught up wiping rain off the mower 
   and washing the poison ivy out of my 
   jeans that I forgot that all the windows 
   were open.  So I mopped up for a while, 
   then forgot to get my jeans out of the 
   washer until this morning, and good grief 
   I've got the sheet and blanket Fred threw 
   up on in the washer now & it's past time 
   to do something about it.  
      When I read an article in the paper 
   about Bryn Mawr Bookshop, I decided to 
   ride to Dove street for exercise, and on the 
   way home stop by the gym to loosen up my 
   arm, which is getting stiff after two weeks 
   of rest.  When they predicted afternoon 
   thunderstorms for yesterday, I decided to 
   go this morning.  But this morning I 
   realized that I didn't want to go to the 
   bookshop, at least not bad enough to spend 
   the whole day at it.  
      Maybe I'll go after I clean the spare 
   room some more and bag up some books to 
   contribute to them.  The story said that 
   they take anything except Reader's Digest 
   condensed books and heavily-annotated 
   textbooks.  
      Meanwhile, I'd better spread a blanket 
   on the lawn and do my stretches here.  
      I haven't found the feature in Word yet 
   which tells you whether or not you've made 
   any changes in a document since you last 
   saved.  I suppose that isn't essential 
   information, but I've become accustomed to 
   knowing.  
      You'll know when I change the Banner 
   to the new program: the resident fonts 
   don't include a decent Roman, and the Word 
   fonts don't include a decent Courier, so 
   there is bound to be a marked change in 
   my typestyle.  
      Is it just my imagination, or has Frieda 
   been bugging me more often since I started 
   using a mouse?  She hasn't started chasing 
   the mouse yet, but she likes to punch 
   keys.  She also likes to jump off my lap, 
   then jump back on with all eighteen non- 
   skids out.  I object louder in my muslin 
   "float" (shift) than I did in denim pants.  
                                                           
   18 June 1993 
      Today I put a freshly-washed sheet 
   blanket on the bed, and decided to take 
   advantage of the big, clean work surface to 
   sort out the linen closet, which hasn't been 
   straightened in years.  I found three or 
   four old sheets that I could have taken to 
   Evelyn for her bandage-rolling, and put 
   them in my suitcase so I'd be sure to re- 
   member them next time.  They've been on 
   the top shelf long enough that they ought 
   to be washed before they are torn up and 
   rolled, but I figure it's better to do that 
   _after_ dragging them halfway across the 
   country.  Also found a mysterious pair of 
   shabby jeans; I'll put those in the Salva- 
   tion Army box.  Threw out a handful of 
   rags, collected the tablecloths together, and 
   put the closet back together with a space 
   left over.  But now there's a pile of stuff 
   on the bed that doesn't belong in the linen 
   closet and doesn't belong anywhere else.  
      Also found some never-used wedding 
   presents; there's a 56" x 76" white damask 
   cotton-and-rayon tablecloth with eight 16" 
   napkins in the original package ---- maybe I 
   can pass it on to one of the nieces.  A 
   cross-stitch runner still has its card, 
   signed "Leota."  That must have been Leota 
   Ramsey.  I'd hate to separate them after 
   they've been together for a quarter of a 
   century.  The box itself is a collector's 
   item: who would dare to market "Bachelor's 
   Friend" reinforced-toe socks now?  
                                                                       
   20 June 1993 
      Yesterday Dave came home sunburned 
   from a day of tedding hay, and said that 
   Fred had taken a chance and mowed the 
   entire field.  Today we are finally getting 
   that long, soaking rain we have been 
   needing.  
                                                                       
   21 June 1993 
      The mailman startled me by passing by 
   while I was bringing in the groceries about 
   twelve o'clock.  Margie met me at the door 
   and expressed astonishment.  When Dave 
   came home for lunch shortly after I got the 
   stuff stowed away, he sat down at the 
   table and said, "Is this _today_'s mail?  And 
   now I appear to plan to spend the after- 
   noon thinking that it's time to run out to 
   see whether the mail is here yet.  
      I wonder how much consternation he 
   spread along his route ---- and whether or 
   not this heralds a change of schedule.  I 
   find it extremely annoying that the post 
   office refuses to let us know when our mail 
   is supposed to arrive.  Delivery at the four 
   hundred and sixty-first stop is irregular 
   enough without official mystery.  
      On my "milk run," I bought a melon 
   plant at Olsen's, to replace the one I 
   cultivated by mistake.  I didn't put a stake 
   by it, because the melon plants are bigger 
   now.  The ground was damp only two or 
   three inches down; yesterday's intermittent 
   rain was needed, but not enough.  I hope 
   that this damp and breathless weather 
   turns into rain this afternoon.  
      There was something about a storm 
   watch on the scanner.  Doesn't appear to 
   be anything to worry about ---- this area 
   tends to weak and pallid "storms" ---- but if 
   for some reason I go out again, it might be 
   a good idea to unplug the computers.  
      I finally sewed a skirt onto my under- 
   shirt yesterday.  When I tried it on to 
   decide how wide to make the hem, I dis- 
   covered that the neck of the dress is 
   wider than the neck of the slip.  I'll have 
   to remember where I put the nylon slip 
   that I bought when I bought my flowered 
   skirt.  
      My newer bras show inside the neck 
   opening too; mustn't forget that when 
   dressing up.  
      Dave came home for supper just in time 
   to put a safety pin into the slip at the 
   hemline.  He wanted to know what the 
   occasion was when he found his cook "all 
   dressed up."  Particularly when spaghetti 
   was on the menu!  
      Decided to change pants before running 
   out for milk, groceries, and a hose clamp, 
   so this afternoon I'm patching my garden- 
   ing jeans.  While I'm at it, I'm putting a 
   patch on the seat of the old brown pants, 
   so I'll have two pairs for dirty work.  If 
   I'm going to keep on mowing poison ivy, 
   I'm going to need one to wear while the 
   other is in the wash.  I'm using scraps for 
   the black pants, but I found that I'd saved 
   the remains of the first brown pair to 
   patch the second with.  So the worse pair 
   will have patches that match better.  
      Now all I have to do is to press the 
   patches and sew them on.  
      After I make the hamburger into meat- 
   loaf and freeze it.  Got hamburger and a 
   chuck steak at Stonewell.  I _wanted_ to buy 
   a pork steak at Falvo's.  Seems as though 
   I never want to buy meat except on a 
   Monday, the only day Falvo's is closed.  
                                                           
   23 June 1993 
      Yesterday I used above-mentioned hose 
   clamp to install the new Presta connector 
   on my floor pump.  The receipt from Pedal 
   Power calls it a "Silca head." Actually, he 
   wrote "slca head."  The package doesn't 
   say anything but "Silca Italy," leaving it up 
   to you to recognize the gadget in the 
   bubble.  I'm well pleased with the new 
   connector, though I keep turning the nut 
   the wrong way once it's upside-down on 
   the stem.  Maybe I should put the presta 
   adaptor off my old Schraeder head into my 
   patch kit so I can study it before trying 
   to remove the connector after inflating my 
   tire.  
      The job was as simple as I had expect- 
   ed, but before I got the barbed pipe of the 
   connector worried into the air hose, I was 
   thinking that Silca meant for the connec- 
   tion to hold 120 lb. of air _without_ a hose 
   clamp.  Cutting the old connector off didn't 
   shorten the hose enough to stop me from 
   using the clip that keeps the hose tidy 
   when it's not in use, which was a relief.  
      Kept the meatloaf in the fridge and 
   baked it yesterday.  The leftovers take 
   care of lunch today, but I'm going to have 
   to go to Falvo's this afternoon.  Seems as 
   though I'm shopping all the time.  
      I miss downtown.  Not only does 
   shopping take more time when stores are 
   scattered all over the county, I haven't the 
   foggiest idea where I can replace my 
   cracked and chipped oatmeal dishes.  
      I think I'll stop by Country Cottons on 
   the way to Falvo's, and see whether they 
   have anything suitable for summer pants or 
   garden pants.  They sell mostly quilting 
   fabric, but they do have a few shelves of 
   other stuff.  
                                                           
   24 June 1993 
      While reading the day before 
   yesterday's paper, I realized that Clinton's 
   original name was Billy Blythe.  How 
   appropriate!  
                                                           
   25 June 1993 
      When my editor said she replaced my 
   placeholders with tab stops by hand, I 
   couldn't understand why it was so difficult 
   for her to figure out her Find and Replace.  
   Now that I'm using a big, fancy, anybody- 
   can-learn-it word processor, I'm beginning 
   to get the message.  
      Having typed a document with spaces, 
   I'd like to replace those spaces with tabs.  
   As near as I can make out, Word won't help 
   me in any way, shape or form.  
      There's nothing in Help or the book 
   about getting rid of those *&%#@! default 
   tab stops, either.  You can space them 
   farther apart, but you can't get rid of 
   them.  There's a "clear all" button in the 
   tab menu, but it removes only tabs that 
   you have added, not the ones you don't 
   want.  
                                                           
   26 June 1993 
      We decided to have a "special" as a 
   change from pizza tonight.  It wasn't quite 
   the way Smitty used to make it, which is 
   exactly the way Smitty used to make it.  He 
   always let the food vary a little to keep 
   people from getting bored with the limited 
   menu.  
      A fellow at the next table said "they 
   have everything!" and started listing the 
   sandwiches.  They have eight-cut and 
   four-cut pizzas, a few sandwiches, and the 
   "special," which is considered a sandwich 
   for accounting purposes.  It does include 
   meat and a roll.  And too much butter.  
      I got a fairly respectable interior page 
   for August's Bikeabout out of Word today.  
   I wonder if there is some way to make 
   "Pacelining for Smooth Speed" print a little 
   higher relative to "Racing News" without 
   resorting to dividing the section into 
   columns?  
      I'm using 14-point type, to be printed 
   at 75%.  
                                                           
   27 June 1993 
      I did find out how to Find and Replace 
   tab stops, but I'll have to look the codes 
   up in Help every time I use them.  There 
   should be a drop-down reminder the way 
   there is in PC-Write.  
      "Magic," one of the aspects of "After 
   Dark," ran through an all-white phase -- 
   it's amazing how much better black-and- 
   white designs look on a color monitor!  
   Though the description implies that the 
   lines disappear, what actually happens is 
   that black lines are printed over them; 
   with the current settings, it's re-printing 
   the same lines after a 150-line delay.  When 
   the pattern is dense, the black design is 
   more interesting to watch than the colored 
   lines.  
      I love having straight sides to the 
   screen.  Dave brought home some work 
   yesterday because he likes this machine 
   better than the one at the office.  
                                                           
   28 June 1993 
      Once again, it is Monday -- and once 
   again, I want to buy meat at Falvo's.  
      If I cooked a big, fancy Sunday dinner 
   I wouldn't have these problems with 
   Monday's menu.  
                                                           
   4 July 1993 
      Sigh.  I bought a box of strawberries 
   and cut them up and put sugar on them.  I 
   laid a stick of butter out to thaw, figuring 
   that I'd make the whole stick into biscuit 
   mix, because even though it's July, LeVie is 
   still picking strawberries.  
      Then this morning I came down all set 
   to have strawberry shortcake for Sunday 
   breakfast and discovered that I've barely 
   enough flour to dirty the bin.  
      "Word" is driving me up the wall, 
   across the ceiling, and a couple of laps 
   around the house.  "Help" isn't very 
   helpful.  The Bikeabout was in good shape 
   when I quit working on it yesterday, but 
   that's no indication that it won't be 
   scrambled when I open it today.  I wish I'd 
   followed my first impulse, to keep each 
   page in a separate file to limit damage, but 
   there isn't any convenient way to use a 
   file series in Word -- or, at least, there's 
   no way in the manual or the Help file.  
      I've made one accommodation to Windows.  
   Running PC-Write under Windows disables 
   two of its commands, because both are 
   defined as "go back to Program Manager."  
   It hasn't been too much trouble to learn to 
   delete words from the end instead of from 
   the beginning, but I really _need_ to toggle 
   the non-printing characters.  Yesterday, I 
   remembered that Boxing mode switches off 
   View mode, and isn't any more trouble than 
   the View-mode switch, except that "off" and 
   "on" aren't the same key.  
                                                           
   7 July 1993 
      Went to a Punkintown Fair work 
   meeting, where we stuffed envelopes for 
   the raffle.  Chairman said it was too hot to 
   work outside.  When I came back outside, it 
   was like stepping into a motel room: the 
   air smells like stale cigarette smoke.  I 
   hope this weather pattern moves on soon.  
      Dave has been running the air 
   conditioner in the bedroom, without any 
   protest from me about the noise and smell.  
                                                           
      I decided that today was a good day to 
   clean out my closet.  Didn't finish the job, 
   but I removed three piles of winter clothes, 
   and the closet is still congested.  When I 
   have nothing to wear, that doesn't seem 
   reasonable.  
      Those religions that make you wear the 
   same outfit for every occasion have 
   something.  
      Though I haven't seen any habits 
   suitable for really hot weather.  I dug out 
   my only pair of shorts today, and hung my 
   shirt by the door.  
      Yesterday I got back my order for a 
   new bra top -- sold out of the substitute 
   for what I really wanted, and there won't 
   be any more bra tops until next summer's 
   fashions come in.  They offered, as 
   compensation, an excessively sponge- 
   rubbered bra at the same price as the 
   simpler garment.  I've already got a 
   "jogbra," and break out in prickly heat at 
   the mere thought of putting it on.  
      And now that I've got flour, LeVie is 
   out of strawberries.  There are still a few 
   on the Joe Rickets plants.  
      Too hot to bake anyway.  
                                                           
   8 July 1993 
      Too hot to do anything.  Not as bad as 
   yesterday, but I regarded reading the mail 
   as strenuous activity.  
      The fork with which I meant to eat my 
   supper vanished; later on I found a fork in 
   the refrigerator.  
      The cats spent the day flat, two on the 
   windowsill, one on the picnic table.  They 
   perked up at suppertime -- which was 
   after it cooled off a little.  
      Actually, Erica didn't move to the picnic 
   table until the shadow of the mountain was 
   on it.  She's been spending less time under 
   the car and more time under the 
   vegetation.  
      I spent the morning trying to persuade 
   Word to print page six.  I reset the 
   computer after lunch and got a copy, then 
   later on the power went out.  By then I 
   was in the bed in front of the air 
   conditioner reading the mail.  It stayed out 
   long enough for me to run downstairs and 
   flick the switches on the power strips, for 
   which I was grateful, because the lights 
   flickered several more times.  The clock 
   radio still shows the correct time, because 
   just yesterday, Dave installed a backup 
   battery in it.  
      And I unplugged the TV when it came 
   on hissing.  Some bug in the design causes 
   it to switch on at high volume when the 
   power goes off.  
      They just said that the smell of smoke 
   Dave dashed off to about half an hour ago 
   was a controlled burn.  I bet this heavy 
   air held the smoke down to alarm the 
   neighbors.  
      I am exceedingly unhappy with Word's 
   Replace function, because it won't let you 
   see the results of one replace before 
   dashing off to the next.  That's fine and 
   dandy after you've made a few and are 
   sure it's working, but it sure multiplies 
   mistakes.  And in Replace mode, it won't 
   search backward, so if your finger twitches 
   on the Ignore button, you have to cancel 
   and start over.  
      And the "dialog box" not only conceals 
   the stuff you are trying to search, it is 
   one of the few Windows windows that you 
   can't move.  
                                                           
   10 July 1993 
      Dave is in a funeral procession this 
   morning.  I suppose I should have gone to 
   see it; it will be a long time before 
   Voorheesville sees that many companies of 
   firemen.  I was surprised to learn that Bill 
   Campion was Ellen Hunsinger's father; when 
   I heard 1C1 say "call my residence" on the 
   scanner, I assumed it was somewhere in the 
   middle of the county.  He said that often 
   the last year he was working, because his 
   wife worried about him, but she died a 
   year before him.  
      Our fat little Fred hates the heat, and 
   he also hates the noise of the air condi- 
   tioner, so he oscillates.  Dave said we 
   ought to put a cat door in the bedroom.  
   Fred has developed a very persuasive 
   "meowp," and if he's standing on the bed, 
   he'll pat the doorknob.  I think he could 
   learn to turn it if he had the physical 
   equipment!  
      The potatoes were starting to die, so 
   yesterday I turned the lawn sprinkler on 
   low, to sprinkle a straight line.  Then 
   something distracted me before I set the 
   timer and I left it on all night.  
      The surviving leaves look crisp and 
   healthy this morning.  
      We definitely could use some rain.  It's 
   not in the forecast.  Might be showers, but 
   those seldom last long enough to wash the 
   dust off the leaves.  We got some damaging 
   winds somewhere not too long ago; it was, 
   of course, front-page news.  
      Word has its pros and cons.  On the 
   one hand it won't give you any hint, 
   beyond eyeball measurement, as to how 
   much extra space there is in a column; on 
   the other hand, when you have filled a 
   column up the best you can, you can ask it 
   to put extra space between paragraphs to 
   make it fit; on the third hand, there is 
   nothing equivalent to the last line in a 
   paragraph in horizontal justification; if a 
   column is short, the only way to keep it 
   from getting spaced out is to turn off 
   vertical justification for the whole section.  
   And you can't tell whether vertical justifi- 
   cation is on or off.  
      On the one hand, columns snake.  On 
   the other hand, you can't turn snaking off.  
                                                           
   12 July 1993 
      It's raining!  And though it isn't 
   raining hard enough to make you put on a 
   windbreaker, it appears to plan to rain for 
   hours yet.  
      Pity I didn't leave that bucket sitting 
   on the picnic table.  But sticking a shovel 
   into the garden will tell me whether 
   or not we got enough.  Radio said we'll 
   have clear, dry weather tomorrow.  
      Hoot mon!  "Memory full."  Better shut 
   off some of them games.  
      Maybe I left Word running.  
      That's the first time I've overloaded the 
   new computer.  
      My favorite screen saver at the moment 
   is "Magic," which can be set to run slowly 
   instead of jumping nervously.  (Penalty of 
   a fast computer.)  All it does is to print 
   lines on the screen one at a time (four at a 
   time when set for vertical and horizontal 
   reflection), and print black lines over the 
   oldest lines after 150 lines have been 
   printed.  Though an occasional six-pointed 
   star appears, patterns are more likely to 
   be organic than geometric.  I did see a 
   pretty plaid, once, but it changed into 
   some sort of flying insect before I could 
   focus.  
      I think the rain is over.  It's not only 
   dry under the trees, I spotted a dry patch 
   of mulch under a tiger-lily leaf.  
      Ah, well, the plants did get a bath.  
      A few days ago, the leaves fell off the 
   green stems of the pussy willow twigs, 
   which I took as a good sign: the dead 
   leaves clung tightly to the black parts of 
   the twigs.  So I picked off all the loose 
   leaves and cut off the blackened twigs, and 
   the axial buds have been swelling ever 
   since.  Today they are definitely starting 
   to open.  So I cut a twig off the bottom 
   branch of the pussy willow, cut it into four 
   parts, and stuck the pieces into the peat 
   pellets where I've decided that the forget- 
   me-not seeds aren't going to come up.  
      I got back on the bike for the second 
   time since Memorial Day.  Just this side of 
   where Picard runs into 85A, there was a 
   smash between a white Toyota pickup truck 
   (which, I presume, was towing the trailer 
   of firewood) and a dark-gray vehicle I 
   didn't get a good look at.  New Salem was 
   called for fire police, so after I finished 
   the dishes, I put on my bike shorts and 
   rode down to see what was happening, and 
   continued on to the firehouse for a short 
   visit.  One of the fire policemen said that 
   the deputies were quite nasty about sight- 
   seers, but they never said a word to me.  
   Perhaps it was because I got off the road 
   before approaching the scene, perhaps be- 
   cause they could see the firemen recognize 
   me, perhaps because bicycles are invisible.  
   Had they said something I could have said 
   that I'd come to see whether I needed to 
   make a soda run; I'd even brought plastic 
   bags to line my wire panniers with if I 
   needed to fill them up with cans and ice.  
      Sounded dire, with ambulances alerted 
   clear to Berne, but it turned out that one 
   of Voorheesville's two ambulances broke 
   down, so they called Onesquethaw, and 
   Onesquethaw called Berne to stand by while 
   they were gone.  
      By the looks of the wreckage, the 
   victims, even if there are only two, must 
   be in bad shape.  The driver's side of the 
   truck was smashed up too bad to tow (in 
   confirmation of my judgement, I met a 
   flatbed on my way home) and the gray 
   thing behind it didn't appear to be in 
   much better condition.  
                                                           
   14 July 1993 
      The newspaper said that the gray 
   vehicle was another pickup -- I had 
   thought that it looked like Jezebel about 
   the fenders, but hadn't seen enough to be 
   sure.  It also said that there were three 
   victims, one in the offending vehicle and 
   two in the truck he hit.  None seriously 
   hurt, though the offending driver was kept 
   overnight.  Dave said Berne did carry one 
   of the victims.  
      Took the Bikeabout to the printer, half 
   an hour before the place closed.  I was so 
   disorganized that I had to paste three ads 
   in the car, in the parking lot at Sir 
   Speedy Copy Center.  I'm so sore from 
   using the mouse that I can't raise my arm.  
   Part of that is my own fault, for playing 
   "Minesweeper" and "Solitaire" when I 
   needed a break, instead of going out to 
   mow the lawn or something.  If I can get 
   the Writer's Exchange Bulletin ready to 
   copy tonight, I plan to go for a long ride 
   tomorrow to let my neck rest.  Or there is 
   so little to do to it that I could finish it -- 
   for the third or fourth time -- in the 
   morning and still have plenty of time to 
   ride to Guilderland and back.  
      For some reason, the mouse hits me in 
   the neck -- and in the left elbow, which 
   isn't used at all.  
      Picked up bread, mayo, and yogurt 
   on the way back from the printshop, and 
   to my surprise, that was all that was on 
   the list I forgot to take with me.  Also 
   stopped at Creekside for some corn, then 
   when I got the stuff put away I realized 
   there was no meat in the house and it was 
   still half an hour before Falvo closed, so I 
   hopped back into the car and bought a 
   pound each of bacon and ground chuck.  
   When tomatoes are in season, that's all it 
   takes to feed Dave.  
      I noticed that a limb of the pussy 
   willow was rubbing on another, so I cut it 
   off and stuck it into two peat pellets piled 
   one on top of the other.  Its leaves are 
   starting to dry up; I should have hacked 
   up the part of the stem inside the peat 
   just a little.  The four smaller twigs I 
   potted earlier are still healthy-looking, and 
   today I potted one of the first two twigs, 
   after finding a root wandering across the 
   bottom of the saucer.  
      On the way back from Falvo's, I drove 
   through what passes for a shower lately.  
   It didn't make any black specks on the 
   pavement, but I collected a few drops on 
   the windshield.  Noticed on the way out 
   that Karen's little spruce looks really bad, 
   and plan to hook all the hoses together 
   and give it a drink while it still has a few 
   green twigs.  
                                                           
   15 July 1993 
      Here I am so sore from the Bikeabout 
   that I can hardly raise my arm, and I have 
   to resist the urge to switch on "Mine- 
   sweeper."  A missing letter and the onset 
   of the cramps put paid to my plans to 
   treat my "charley mouse" to an all-day 
   ride.  And I tried to switch the washer 
   over to summer mode, the plants being 
   desperately in need of water, but couldn't 
   get the winter hose off the pump.  So I'm 
   not even running a load of wash.  It is, 
   alas, a good drying day.  
                                                           
      It may be my imagination, but I think 
   the little spruce already looks better for 
   having had a drink.  The green parts seem 
   greener.  
      There was a work party for the fair 
   yesterday evening.  I went down to watch 
   for a while, but little actual work was 
   being done, so I came home.  They did put 
   up the banners, using 2370.  Before I went 
   to bed, there was some strange conversa- 
   tion on the scanner.  A woman rumored to 
   believe that her boyfriend was in hot 
   pursuit, and who may have been on her 
   way to the sheriff's sub-station not far 
   from our house, made a U-turn in 85-A and 
   asked the boys to call the sheriff.  
   Appears to have livened up the work 
   party.  
      Dave says that after the tent goes up, 
   they'll need some hands.  
      Judy was upset because the printer's 
   clip-art collection didn't include a tent.  I 
   told her that the general rule of clip art is 
   that if you need it, you don't have it, but 
   she figured that a professional is a 
   professional, and a printer ought to know 
   how to draw.  
                                                           
   16 July 1993 
      This morning I finally converted my 
   laundry pump to summer mode.  The grape- 
   vine is showing signs that it could have 
   used the loads and loads of water that I've 
   pumped into the septic tank.  
      Usually, when I wash clothes, I start 
   the washer as soon as Dave leaves, then 
   come upstairs to finish the paper and 
   drink my juice.  Today, I waited until I 
   was quite finished with breakfast because I 
   had to change the hoses and Dave had had 
   such a rough time putting the garden hose 
   on the pump last spring.  But either he 
   worked it out, or I'm in for a surprise 
   when I pump out a full tub of water.  Once 
   I managed to remove the septic-system 
   hose, all I did was slip the adapter over 
   the nozzle and tighten the hose clamp, and 
   it didn't seem to leak when I ran a little 
   water into the sink and pumped it out.  
   Couldn't be sure, because the septic hose 
   was full of water and everything was wet.  
   Got most of it into the laundry sink 
   though.  I admire myself for quick 
   thinking, because I'd forgotten that water 
   stays in the drain hose until it's pushed 
   out by more water.  
      The leaves on the four smaller twigs of 
   the pussy willow are getting brittle, but 
   the first two are still doing fine, and I've 
   put the potted twig outside. When roots 
   come out the drain hole, or when the dry 
   weather breaks (whichever comes first) I'll 
   plant it between the yard and the field.  
      The connection leaked vigorously, but I 
   found a better screwdriver and tightened 
   the hose clamp considerably more, so I 
   think that will take care of it.  Hope so, 
   because there is real soap in the load 
   that's in now, which would make a mess on 
   the floor.  
      I enjoyed ill health all day yesterday, 
   somehow without reading any books, if you 
   don't count the time I spent revising the 
   chapter on paste-up in the second edition 
   of "How to Edit Your Club's Newsletter."  
   Just before sunset I finished mowing the 
   field.  The patch of poison ivy I hadn't 
   noticed the first time I mowed the field is 
   larger than I thought, and thriving while 
   the other plants shrivel.  Made me nervous 
   to see all those juicy leaves spraying out 
   the discharge chute!  But the mower 
   discharges to the side, so that I don't come 
   into direct contact, and I always undress 
   into the washer and then take a shower, so 
   (so far) I've been getting away with it.  
                                                           
   17 July 1993 
      Tada!  This morning, on the way to the 
   computer to write a letter, I noticed a 
   stray flyer on the table and picked it up 
   to throw away.  In the process, I looked 
   under the weatherfaxes to see whether 
   anything else of mine had wandered into 
   that pile of Dave's papers, and it wasn't a 
   pile of Dave's at all: it was two faxes 
   lying on top of the manuals for the C.P.U.  
   and monitor!  I'd thought there simply 
   weren't any.  
      The monitor manual explains the 
   strange icons on the brightness and 
   contrast controls: they are backward.  The 
   manual says that contrast is on the right 
   and brightness on the left, but the screen 
   gets brighter and dimmer when you turn 
   the right-hand control.  If the controls 
   were the way the book says they are, the 
   icons would make sense.  
      "International" symbols confuse 
   everyone equally.  
      I pulled up most of the garlic 
   yesterday; it ripened prematurely in the 
   dry weather, but the bulbs are about as 
   fat as usual.  I pulled up one clump of 
   four bulbs!  Must have been an unusually 
   fat clove.  I should be able to put up some 
   nice bunches for the Auxiliary bake booth 
   to sell.  
      Spent most of yesterday doing wash.  
   Still drying weather, but it was a trifle 
   windy for hanging clothes.  Took each load 
   down when I brought out the next one.  
      "Contrast" doesn't seem to do anything 
   except when the monitor is in black-and- 
   white mode.  
                                                           
   18 July 1993 
      Today I finally wrapped up WEB #34.  
   I've lost track of the number of times I got 
   it finished and had to add something be- 
   fore I got around to going to the copy- 
   shop.  I'd better go first thing tomorrow, 
   before the mail comes!  Afterward, I copied 
   page two into Word, and arranged it by the 
   Bikeabout template.  It occupied precisely 
   as much room as before.  
                                                           
   19 July 1993 
      After that I copied a page of the 
   Banner into word; it occupied significantly 
   less space.  So I grabbed a calculator.  
   Fourteen points at 75%, the ratio I use 
   in Word, is a smidgeon more than ten 
   points, and twelve points at 83%, the ratio 
   I use in PC-Write, is a smidgeon less than 
   ten points.  I had _thought_ Times New 
   Roman had to be more compact than 
   Courier.  
      When I wrapped up WEB #34, I thought 
   I would ride to Guilderland, have it 
   reduced at Sir Speedy, pump iron, and 
   come back through the village to make two- 
   sided copies on the subsidized copier in 
   the library.  Then I noticed that I'm 
   running low on return-address stickers -- 
   and sticker consumption is about to take a 
   dramatic leap because I'm down to three 
   letterhead envelopes.  So I decided to make 
   an all-day expedition out of it and go 
   to the Paper Cutter in Colonie, where I can 
   get copies on labels.  
      This morning the weatherman said that 
   the drought is finally going to break.  
      He predicts fine weather tomorrow.  I'm 
   tempted to risk staying through one more 
   delivery of mail, but if I did that, the 
   weather system would dally.  
      Later: I do believe the rain is actually 
   going to amount to something.  It has 
   already washed away the smell of spoiled 
   hay.  But I just caught Erica holding up 
   her paw.  Had I realized that today would 
   be rainy ---- and that it would bother her 
   ---- I'd have started giving her Vetalog a 
   few days ago.  The weather should be hot 
   and dry again before the stuff would have 
   time to build up in her, though.  
                                                           
   20 July 1993 
      Things look greener already ---- but I 
   dug a hole in the garden and hit dust less 
   than three inches down.  I reduced the 
   long trip to a dash to the post office, and 
   was glad I did; it's _stuffy_ out there.  
   Supposed to be lovely tomorrow.  
      I went to the post office because I got 
   an order for "How to Edit Your Club's 
   Newsletter" in yesterday's mail.  Also 
   stopped by the bank to deposit the check 
   and take out some cash.  I charge $5 
   postpaid and it costs $1.44 to mail it.  I'm 
   not at all sure I left that much margin 
   when calculating the price.  
      This was only a couple of days after I 
   got the issue of "Sewer's Source Letter" 
   and "Stitcher's Source Letter" in which I'd 
   bought ads.  I wish I'd coded the address 
   so I could tell which ad produced!  She 
   might have heard of me somewhere else 
   altogether; I've bought a few other ads 
   that might still be floating around, and she 
   might be a member of N3F, though the 
   letter doesn't look like what one Neffer 
   would write to another.  But it's like a 
   Neffer to know where you can get 
   stationery printed on a letterpress.  
                                                           
   July 21, 1993 
      We did have lovely weather today.  I 
   thought I felt a drop of rain on the last 
   leg, but it was probably wishful thinking.  
   I had a good trip except that I forgot to 
   stop at the library, and then I paid four 
   bucks for a packet of crackers.  
      When I addressed the envelopes 
   yesterday, I imitated Word and made PC- 
   Write print the return address on them.  
   Then I realized that it was no longer 
   urgent to buy address labels, because I 
   wasn't going to use an entire sheet on 
   WEB, so I scaled the trip down to lunch at 
   Stuyvesant Plaza followed by stops at 
   Paradise foods, Sir Speedy, the gym (for 
   the first time since Memorial Day), the 
   print shop, and the library.  
      Then when I was preparing the bike 
   this morning, I found that I'd already 
   packed the label originals, and realized 
   that once I'm at the health food shop, it 
   isn't far to dart down Gipp to Rapp Road.  
   So I packed up a few books to leave at 
   Canterbury Tales and (in the interest of 
   making sure that I got to Guilderland Press 
   by 5:00) cut Stuyvesant and Paradise from 
   the itinerary, going straight down 
   Normanskill to Rapp.  With a detour on 
   Wormer, because I forgot to turn at the 
   light in Voorheesville.  Stuyvesant and 
   Paradise are the only food stops on the 
   route, and I hadn't baked any muffins, so I 
   put in a sack of bite-size shredded wheat 
   and a bottle of frozen juice.  I also bought 
   a juice box of "soy drink" at Kim's Oriental 
   Grocery and Gift shop, but I should have 
   bought the "slab candy" I looked at too.  
   And maybe some cassava chips.  
      While Paper Cutter was doing my labels, 
   at $0.33/sheet, I read their price list and 
   found that double-sided copies are six 
   cents each.  I'd thought I was getting a 
   terrific bargain at ten cents.  So I decided 
   that after he made my reductions, I'd have 
   him run off the mailing copies, but it 
   turned out that Paper Cutter doesn't have 
   a percent-increment copier, and they 
   couldn't do the reductions.  I guess that 
   that is one reason they charge a third as 
   much as Sir Speedy.  So I had to make a 
   side trip to Sir Speedy, but that isn't 
   much out of the way -- except that I like 
   unto never got a chance to cross Western.  
   Had even more trouble with Central earlier.  
   There is supposed to be a light at Lincoln 
   and Central, and I'd already gotten into 
   the left-turn lane when I realized that it 
   was flashing.  I studied the situation for a 
   while, then bipped across Lincoln (which 
   was easy because nobody wanted in, only 
   out) and walked to the middle of the block, 
   then crossed at a driveway where they 
   could only come at me from two directions.  
   Still got cursed at twice while I was in the 
   middle lane.  Beats getting run over, or 
   not crossing at all, which was the case 
   before they put in the middle lane.  
      I stopped at Mobil and Creekside in 
   Voorheesville for milk and corn.  While I 
   was buying milk, I decided I'd better put 
   some calories into my stomach, and picked 
   up a twenty-five cent packet of peanut- 
   buttered crackers.  "Eleven Oh One," she 
   said in her dramatic way.  (Standing be- 
   hind that counter must be really boring.) I 
   was so distracted fishing around for the 
   money that it wasn't until it was too late to 
   complain that I realized that the reason I 
   hadn't had it ready was that 0.25 plus four 
   times 1.44 does not come anywhere near 
   11.01.  I _always_ pay with a five-dollar bill 
   and change, so I can't think how I failed 
   to see something wrong when a ten-dollar 
   bill wasn't enough.  
      Met Dave in the driveway when I came 
   home: he was on his way to a Punkintown 
   Fair work party.  I'm going to have to 
   make a special trip to buy prizes for the 
   Kiddy Striker ---- as soon as I find out 
   someplace to go.  Going to be hard to find 
   suitable prizes, because we charge only a 
   quarter and give every child a prize.  I 
   _don't_ want to resort to handing out candy.  
      Wasn't any need of me at the fair- 
   grounds, so I ate a hearty supper and 
   went to bed.  Now it's bed time, and, oddly 
   enough, I feel like going upstairs and lying 
   down.  
      This time I'll take my clothes off first.  
                                                           
   22 July 1993 
      GROWF!  I just went to put my labels 
   away, and found that of the twelve sheets 
   I had printed, only five were printed on 
   33-up paper.  The other seven sheets are 
   30-up: each label has a top half at the 
   bottom and a bottom half at the top.  I 
   know enough to look through my copies 
   when I get them --especially when getting 
   labels.  
      The sheets that were done correctly 
   were those that I need immediately, so at 
   least I don't have to go back right away.  
   When I do, I'll bake some muffins first!  
      But I think I'm out of sunflower seeds.  
                                                           
   24 July 1993 
      GAACK!  I sat down here to hardcopy 
   and mail that three-page letter to the 
   Enterprise that I've been working on all 
   week, and discovered that with all the 
   boxes and boxes of paper that clutter up 
   this room and part of the next, I've got 
   exactly one sheet of plain white letter-size 
   paper.  Sure wish I'd had the sense to add 
   a package of copy paper to that order to 
   Quill; I'll have to run over to Delmar Real 
   Soon Now.  
      I guess I thought I'd order white paper 
   to match my new letterhead, but it will be 
   months before E911 tells me what my new 
   address is.  Though I'm almost out of 
   printed envelopes, while verifying that the 
   box marked "continuation sheets" is empty, 
   I found that my stack of letterhead is half 
   an inch high.  And I've two or three 
   inches of the MHW letterhead with our 
   former P.O. box number on it.  I've been 
   using it for every sort of casual note even 
   remotely connected with club business.  
      After a while I remembered a package 
   of legal paper stashed at the bottom of the 
   desk.  I can print on that and cut the 
   bottom off with a knife.  
      Egad.  I talked to Alice more than an 
   hour yesterday, and didn't find out what 
   her new address is, or ask what became of 
   the "Alfalfa King" plaque.  
                                                           
   25 July 1993 
      Yesterday I got to thinking that maybe 
   the potatoes weren't turning brown because 
   they were short of water, so I peeled off 
   the mulch at one end of the row and found 
   a nice handful of potatoes.  Dave wants 
   them fried for breakfast tomorrow.  
      Today I finally did something about the 
   smell of rotten onions in the cellar.  When 
   I opened the responsible bag EW! what a 
   maggoty mess.  I put them in a bucket, 
   filled the bucket with water, and dumped 
   the water on the tomato plants.  After 
   several rinses and soaks, the remaining 
   dutch shallots became socially acceptable 
   and I planted them.  
      Not going to be much of an onion crop 
   because I got it in so late, so I hope the 
   shallots make a fall crop.  
      Today I got around to installing the 
   copy holder I bought at Office Max.  
                                                           
   26 July 1993 
      I've developed a system of irrigation 
   ditches in the garden.  By good luck, it 
   slopes enough, but not too much.  
      After planting the dutch shallots, I 
   knew they'd never come up if they weren't 
   watered, and they were in no condition to 
   wait, unlike the shallots I planted a few 
   weeks ago.  I can't water those because I'm 
   not sure where they are; I ran the 
   cultivator through them by mistake and I 
   suspect that the row is a bit wider than it 
   was when I planted it.  
      Anyhow, I ran the furrow maker be- 
   tween the two short rows after planting 
   them, and this morning I plowed a furrow 
   between the yellow onions and the multi- 
   pliers, and ran the water from a load of 
   shirts into those ditches and into the 
   elaborate system where a puddle around 
   the beefsteak tomato drains into a puddle 
   around the volunteer tomato, which drains 
   into a puddle around the Toybox tomato, 
   which drains into a ditch that divides to 
   run on both sides of the dividing onions.  
   That's a very short row where I'm culti- 
   vating those onion sets that split into two 
   or more onions last year.  They look as 
   though they intend to do it again this 
   year.  A bulb I missed last year is already 
   ripe, and made two bulbs even though I let 
   it go to seed.  
                                                           
   27 July 1993 
      We got a little sprinkle of rain in the 
   night and things looked wet when we first 
   got up, but the darker soil where I 
   watered the garden is already (9:09) a 
   stark contrast with the rest.  They promise 
   a humid day with an off-chance of a 
   shower in the afternoon.  
                                                           
   29 July 1993 
      I'm typing this under a Windows icon.  
   Seems to work, but I don't see any 
   advantage over using the MS-DOS icon.  It 
   does save typing "ED," but when I type 
   "ED" I can make it "ED filename" and get 
   out of going through the menus.  
      We got some more rain.  A lot of booths 
   cashed out early, which is why I'm home, 
   but it didn't appear to dampen the spirits 
   of the crowd.  The tent helped a lot!  
   Didn't hurt that the ground is still thirsty, 
   so there won't be any mud.  
      I lugged the mini striker into the 
   chicken shed as soon as I took care of the 
   kids who were lined up when the rain 
   started, thinking I'd take a turn around 
   the fair and then open up again.  But 
   when I finished my hot-fudge-and- 
   pineapple sundae, it was raining harder 
   than ever, so I cashed out.  When I came 
   back out from counting my money ($26), the 
   rain had stopped.  
      But by then people were starting to 
   take my customers home and put them to 
   be.  
      I forgot to buy some fried dough 
   before I left the fair, and I may be too 
   busy to get some tomorrow or Saturday.  I 
   don't think I'm hungry enough to have 
   enjoyed it anyway, said the fox.  
      I'd like to know what we pay to rent 
   the Mini Striker.  I had to tighten several 
   nuts -- the bell was loose enough to rattle!  
   At least this year, I knew to have a 
   crescent wrench in my pocket.  
      I see that I didn't mention the good 
   heavy shower we got the afternoon of the 
   previous entry.  Ground wet three or four 
   inches down, and _not_ dusty below that.  
   Yesterday I harvested all the potatoes, 
   nearly half a crisper full.  I may do it 
   again on purpose next year.  
      I forgot to take the packaged garlic to 
   the bake booth.  Also got going late and 
   forgot that I had intended to take the 
   basket of junk mail to the recycling shed 
   on the fairgrounds.  
      I've been itching several days.  
   Yesterday I was scratching my arm and 
   dead skin rolled up -- I've been 
   sunburned.  Decided to do without 
   sunscreen on the trip to Colonie, and came 
   back thinking the day hadn't been as 
   bright as I thought it was because I hadn't 
   changed color in the slightest, not even on 
   the backs of my hands.  
      But I did rub some SPF 15 lipstick 
   through the holes in my gloves.  
                                                           
   30 July 1993 
      When I went out for produce, bread 
   and milk today, it was raining hard in 
   front of the Colonie Country Club.  Smallest 
   shower I've ever seen.  You couldn't quite 
   see the other side of it while standing in 
   dry weather.  
      It's moved here now, or another has.  
   Dave was reluctant to come into the house 
   when he came home for lunch.  
      Dave said later that it was raining all 
   the way to Guilderland.  It had slacked off 
   by the time he was ready to go back.  
   Weather seems promising for the fair, which 
   starts at 7:00.  
      Later: It didn't start to rain again 
   until about 9:00, and then not hard or 
   long, so I think we did fairly well with the 
   fair.  Tonight's Mini Striker take was 
   significantly more than Friday's take last 
   year.  
      But I'll be doing some if I beat 
   Saturday's take tomorrow.  
                                                           
   31 July 1993 
      The mini-striker came with four boxes 
   of prizes, with two different labels.  I 
   opened one of each label on Thursday, and 
   found them identical.  Still had half a 
   boxful when I shut down yesterday, but all 
   the good prizes had been picked out.  I'll 
   open the "Halloween" box first today, 
   because that one falls apart when the lid is 
   lifted & you can't put the prizes back in.  
   I can dump them into the "Empress Toy 
   Assortment" box, piled up and spilling onto 
   my makeshift table.  I've got a wooden 
   shutter that we kept for some reason when 
   we had the windows redone, and put it on 
   one of those barrel-shaped highway cones 
   that someone found for me.  I leave the 
   shutter in the quonset hut instead of 
   taking it home every night as I did last 
   year, but I'll have to take it home tonight, 
   of course.  I take my chair with me, lest 
   someone fail to notice the small address 
   sticker and take it for his own booth.  
      Like unto never found my mallet, after 
   pawing through and through the box of 
   prizes where I'd left it.  Found it on the 
   ground in the high-striker booth.  Some 
   helpful person had carried it out for me.  
      I'd a heap rather he'd carried out the 
   mini-striker!  But I'd left it in the chicken 
   house because I can't open the quonset hut 
   door and carry something through it.  On 
   Thursday, I got a bruised shoulder trying.  
                                                           
   2 August 1993 
      A little light bulb went on over my 
   head this morning, and I changed the 
   command line for PC-Write from "ED.EXE" to 
   "ED ED.DIR" -- and it works!  Instead of 
   coming up in the menus, I come up in the 
   annotated directory.  I could put an icon 
   into windows for each of the files I 
   regularly edit.  
      If I can find a suitable icon.  
      I didn't do much yesterday, and I'm 
   still tired this morning.  
                                                           
   4 August 1993 
      This morning, while reflecting in 
   discomfort that it's well past time to take 
   up the eternally-stretching waist of my 
   garden pants again, I realized why my 
   gray pants are tight even though they 
   were cut by the same pattern as my newer 
   pair of denims: To get them out of the 
   remnants on hand, I had to cut them with 
   the grain line on the cross grain.  Which 
   means, for the non-seamsters, that they are 
   waistband all over.  
      The original pattern called for a hem in 
   front instead of a separate waistband, and 
   my oldest pants are made that way.  The 
   men's version gets away with that because 
   there is an under-belt; the hem on the 
   "broadfall" doesn't support anything but 
   its own weight.  
                                                           
   5 August 1993 
      Margie is mowing her lawn.  I guess 
   I've got to mow ours.  Though the chickory 
   out by the road is at least knee high, I'm 
   not sure I can see where I've been yet.  
   Margie's lawn is brown where she's been 
   (most of the lawn is green again) but I 
   don't think I'm set that low.  
                                                           
                                                                           
   8 August 1993 
      Finally found a root on the second- 
   oldest pussy willow, and the same day I 
   found a root coming out the drain hole of 
   the oldest willow.  So I planted the potted 
   willow in the low "wet" spot between the 
   back yard and the back point four nine, 
   and put the rooted willow in the pot.  The 
   ground was dry when I dug it up to plant 
   the willow.  
      Maybe I'd better stop writing and take 
   another bucket of water out to it.  
      For our anniversary, we took a tour to 
   Pine Lake, where there is to be an 
   absurdly-expensive wedding in a couple of 
   weeks, and collected a couple of motel 
   cards.  The innkeeper at the Iron Kettle 
   said, "I can't give you anything that 
   weekend: I'm booked up for a wedding"!  
   We came by the Gold Coin on the way back 
   ---- which, by the magic of superways' non- 
   Euclidean geometry, wasn't out of the way 
   even though it's southeast of here and 
   Pine Lake is northwest.  We had hot and 
   sour soup, chicken with peanuts, and pork 
   fried rice.  Brought most of the rice home, 
   and enough of the chicken that I don't 
   think I'll have to make supper for Dave 
   tonight.  
      What _is_ the generic term for interstate 
   highways, throughways, freeways, toll 
   roads, and turnpikes?  
                                                           
   10 August 1993 
      Paying the bills this morning: when I 
   came to the car-insurance bill, I noticed 
   that I'm listed as driving for "pleasure."  
   Nothing could be farther from the truth!  
      Same bill gave Dave a start.  I asked 
   what was the matter & he said his insur- 
   ance rate had gone down.  "What's wrong 
   with that?"  "I'm getting a senior-citizen 
   discount."  
      Got the piano de-verdigrised today.  I 
   hate to move all the junk back in here and 
   clutter up the dining room again, but I 
   want it out of the living room.  Took this 
   opportunity to get a good deal of the dust 
   off the floor, and rubbed a little lemon oil 
   on the piano top.  
      The tuner thinks we ought to control 
   the humidity in the room, or get a gadget 
   that controls it inside the piano.  
                                                           
   11 August 1993 
      Just made my second batch of potato 
   salad of the summer.  New potatoes make 
   such lovely salad!  Pity there aren't many 
   left, but they won't be new forever.  Some 
   in this batch were already hard to scrape.  
      Found one potato that appeared to be 
   left over from the last sack that I bought, 
   and peeled it before boiling, since I cut up 
   new potatoes peels and all.  It sure pointed 
   up the difference between new and old 
   potatoes.  
      Also quartered a lot of freshly-pulled 
   multipliers, since I haven't harvested 
   onions yet and don't want to pull the big 
   ones young.  
      I found the perfect way to put garlic 
   into a potato salad.  I selected a fat clove, 
   sliced it into my marble mortar, put two 
   teaspoons of salt on top, and mashed it all 
   up. Then I set it aside while I peeled and 
   cut up what seemed like dozens of tiny 
   onions, then mashed it again ---- by this 
   time the only thing to distinguish it from 
   damp salt was the smell.  Then I rinsed out 
   the mortar with vinegar, since a substantial 
   fraction of the salt and garlic stuck to the 
   walls.  
      I always put a good bit of vinegar into 
   my salad dressing, but this time I added 
   some olive oil too.  The first time, I put in 
   some of the oil in which I preserved last 
   year's garlic, but fresh garlic is better.  
      Dave praised a potato salad made with 
   sour cream instead of mayonnaise; every 
   time I make salad I swear that next time 
   I'll try basing the sauce on whole-milk 
   yogurt, which we both prefer to sour 
   cream for chip dip.  But there's always 
   some reason not to experiment with the 
   current batch.  Today, for example, making 
   the salad _before_ buying yogurt.  
      Hope I get around to making deviled 
   eggs before I fry all of the dozen I bought 
   for the purpose.  Something or the other 
   reminded me that it's been so long since I 
   devilled an egg that I'm not sure I've _ever_ 
   done it, and yet it's simple enough for a 
   three-year old to do, if you trust him with 
   boiling water.  
      I told Jeff I'd take the Bikeabout to the 
   printer on Monday, so I suppose I'd better 
   start doing some actual work on the 
   project.  
      The part of our lawn that I mowed first 
   needs mowing again.  I'm in the "chicken 
   yard" about to tackle the back point four 
   nine.  
      Maybe I should call it the artichoke 
   yard, since there hasn't been any trace of 
   the chickens or the fence for many years, 
   and the Jerusalem artichokes are thriving.  
                                                           
      Didn't even sort papers for the Bike- 
   about today.  Spent three hours buying 
   groceries.  Hit a third supermarket before 
   I found wood-chip cat litter.  Didn't ask at 
   the pet shop, where I picked up a sack of 
   Max Cat Lite because it might be a while 
   before I go out that way with the car 
   again.  The shavings they sell are too light 
   and fluffy, but it's been years since I 
   checked.  I'm pretty sure they have or can 
   get ground corncobs with the fines sifted 
   out, but suspect that it's expensive ÄÄ and 
   I can't re-use it in the flower beds.  
                                                           
   12 August 1993 
      Today I mowed the back point four nine 
   far enough to get all the young cottonwood 
   trees.  Oops -- forgot that the clothes I 
   wore while mowing the poison ivy are still 
   in the washing machine.  
      I made some deviled eggs this morning.  
   A few days ago I chopped up some leftover 
   ham, put it into the leftover chicken salad, 
   and called it "chicken Kiev salad."  At 
   lunchtime, I offered Dave a Kiev-salad 
   sandwich with potato salad and deviled 
   eggs.  He said "I love mayonnaise meals."  
                                                           
   14 August 1993 
      Today I decided that I was tired of 
   transferring information into DOS, and 
   started to make my contributor's-copy list 
   into a Word file.  It should be as easy to 
   make it print on labels as to make 
   membership cards, and that problem has 
   already been worked out.  
      Oh yeah?  
      It adamantly refuses to print near the 
   edge of the paper, and there's no way you 
   can leave half-inch margins on a one-inch 
   label!  And when I looked up "label," all I 
   got was a long, involved discussion about 
   how to merge my mailing list.  I also 
   discovered that there is no way Word will 
   allow you to see more than one page at at 
   time, no matter how small your page is.  (It 
   will let you see a two-page spread in 
   "print preview" mode.") 
      I hate learning a new word processor.  
      So I'm seriously studying the purchase 
   of Microsoft Publisher.  
      Screaming is good exercise.  
      Walt Green was buried today.  The fire 
   department hadn't had time to take down 
   the black cloth they hung for Bill Campion.  
   Most of the men at the funeral were in 
   dress uniform.  Walt said that he wanted 
   his last ride to be on a fire truck, so they 
   strapped the coffin across the back of the 
   brush truck, which is a small pickup.  That 
   doesn't look very impressive, so the new 
   ladder truck led the way and the small 
   tanker went in between to cut the contrast.  
   We went around New Salem South Road in 
   order to pass Walt's house (and incidentally 
   miss most of the state road), and his 
   neighbors came out to pay respects.  
      We are running out of charter members.  
      The wild thyme in the graveyard was in 
   full bloom.  Smelled good after we'd been 
   milling around for a while, but wasn't 
   strong or constant enough to set off 
   anybody's allergies.  
                                                           
   15 August 1993 
      Today I finally finished the mowing.  
   Time to start over out front!  The poison 
   ivy in the trees at the back is so green 
   and glossy, and the leaves are so large, 
   that I'm not sure I'd have recognized it if 
   I hadn't seen it earlier in the season.  The 
   patch nearest the house doesn't seem to 
   have weathered the dry spell as well as 
   the other plants, but the big patch in the 
   middle is the same as ever.  
      I promised to take the Bikeabout to the 
   printshop tomorrow, and I've nothing to 
   put on the front cover, not even a photo- 
   graph.  Didn't realize that Darryl hadn't 
   come through until it was too late to nag 
   him.  And Betty still has my clip art; I 
   called last weekend to ask whether I could 
   come get it, and she said that she'd bring 
   it "sometime next week."  I thought she 
   meant the coming week; had I realized that 
   she meant the week after, I'd have insisted 
   on coming for it myself.  It's too late to go 
   get it now.  Sure hope I get the stuff back 
   for October.  It is not easy to paste up 
   without a drafting board.  Thank goodness 
   I don't have to paste headlines any more!  
      I guess I can move the beginnings of 
   the President's Writeabout and V.P. Land to 
   the front cover, but I sure hate to break 
   up a page that's fitted together.  Word is 
   not co-operative about such activity.  
      I guess I'd better go punch in 
   Advocate's Hotline.  Even with a reduction 
   to 12 pages, I'm a little short on material.  
      Later: and then I realized that I 
   hadn't left room for the Ride Calendar.  
   The awkward holes didn't quite add up to 
   a full page ÄÄ not that I could have 
   consolidated them anyway ÄÄ so I killed the 
   application blank.  Darryl called up; in his 
   dual capacities as photograph editor and 
   Century Chairman, he is taking the front 
   page off my hands.  So I have only to 
   create the Table of Contents and fill holes 
   on three pages, and I'm off to the 
   printshop.  All the other pages are printed 
   out (amid much trauma: I HATE learning a 
   new word processor), but I doubt that I'll 
   clean up the remaining work in time to go 
   to Guilderland by bicycle tomorrow.  
      It would help if I had my drafting 
   board and clip-art collection.  I'm going to 
   have to call Betty again.  And have that 
   slightly-soft left-front tire attended to; I 
   don't want to go out on the Northway with 
   defective equipment.  
                                                           
   16 August 1993 
      Sigh.  Today I'm supposed to deliver.  
   This morning I filled up page two, one of 
   the three unfinished pages, printed it out, 
   noticed that there was an "s" where there 
   should be nothing, took it into the living 
   room in order to find a flat surface, and 
   covered the "s" with a twelfth-inch of one- 
   line correction tape.  Then I took a break 
   for lunch.  Before beginning work on page 
   four, I needed to glance at page two.  I 
   can't even find any freshly-disturbed earth 
   in the garden!  There are very few places 
   that one can put down an 11" x 17" sheet 
   of paper, but it's gee-oh-en-ee gone.  
      I sure hope Word didn't edit the file 
   copy while I was making chicken salad.  
      Later: page two was between pages 
   one and three.  I had looked there dozens 
   of times.  
      When Dave left to go back to work 
   after lunch, it was starting to sprinkle.  "I 
   hope it keeps up for twenty hours!"  I 
   said.  He said "It's supposed to."  The 
   prediction is for two inches of light rain.  
      Now I don't feel so bad about not get- 
   ting to ride my bicycle today.  I punted 
   page four ÄÄ I'm throwing the remaining 
   space into white space and an extra-wide 
   bottom margin ÄÄ and that leaves only the 
   classified ads.  Another cryptogram should 
   do it.  
      I sure could use my clip art and 
   drafting board.  I happened to keep the 
   "Dang!  Century month again!" cartoon, 
   thank goodness.  
                                                           
   18 August 1993 
      I finally froze the bean soup today.  I 
   am not never buying no more ham!  
      The rain was as long as predicted, but 
   lighter.  I haven't been out to the garden.  
                                                           
   19 August 1993 
      I was going to begin with an 
   impassioned complaint about my backache, 
   but it seems to have eased off.  Must have 
   sat around too much yesterday.  
      Looks as though the grass will be dry 
   enough to mow after a while.  
      The machine said that it didn't have 
   enough memory to check my spelling, so I 
   turned off Windows and re-opened the 
   Banner.  It still didn't have enough 
   memory, so I split the file.  This is much 
   later than I had to do that last year; have 
   I succeeded in being less verbose?  I 
   suspect that the new computer has more to 
   do with it.  
      The "Toybox" tomatoes are an awkward 
   size, too small to slice and too big to serve 
   whole.  I'm still glad I bought the plant, 
   because it's loaded and the fruits of the 
   other vines are still grass-green.  They 
   are hanging fire so long that I think 
   maybe I ought to count them, to see 
   whether something is picking off those that 
   start to blush.  
      But surely if we had a Sam, it would be 
   eating the Toybox too.  
                                                           
   22 August 1993 
      The beefsteak tomatoes are finally 
   beginning to turn red.  Just in time ÄÄ 
   there aren't many green tomatoes left on 
   the Toybox plant.  
      We stayed at the Iron Kettle Friday 
   night and last night.  I was astonished 
   when I opened the door to our cabin: there 
   was a sofa and a complete kitchen!  It was 
   a two-room apartment.  We found a set of 
   dishes in a corner cupboard later.  Every- 
   thing was shabby, however: there was 
   little hot water, the toilet rocked, and it 
   took a great deal of force to open and 
   close the door.  On the third hand, the 
   price was commensurate to the state of 
   repair, and the bed was comfortable.  But 
   we are not accustomed to sleeping in a 
   double bed!  The second night, Dave slept 
   too well: he thought he was in his own 
   king-size bed and, unable to dislodge him, 
   I spent the night hanging over the edge.  
                                                           
   23 August 1993 
      For once, I unpacked, got the suitcases 
   nested, and put everything away the same 
   day we came home.  Dave's dress shoes are 
   still in their box on the cedar chest, but I 
   wanted to be sure I didn't forget to put 
   his dress-uniform socks into the box and 
   today is the first time I've washed blacks 
   since Walt's funeral.  
      When I got the TRS-80, I tried to use it 
   to keep a shopping list the way every 
   computer enthusiast who hasn't got a com- 
   puter yet says you should oughta, but, like 
   everyone else, I soon found that paper is 
   much better for the purpose.  Yesterday, I 
   found that we'd run out of liquid hand 
   soap.  I'd put "refills" on my list weeks 
   ago, then I'd taken the original list 
   shopping, for some reason hadn't been able 
   to buy refills, the list never made it back 
   to the fridge, and "hand soap" remained 
   forgotten.  While adding "soap" to my list, 
   I realized that now that we leave the 
   computer running all the time, a computer 
   list might work ÄÄ and it would guarantee 
   that I never take the only copy of my list 
   with me and lose it.  
      Adventure time: I didn't want to add 
   another icon to my PC-Write window 
   because it would require enlarging the 
   window and drastically re-arranging the 
   icons, which were convenient the way they 
   were.  So I decided to put it into the Word 
   window.  
      First discovery: adding an icon to the 
   window and creating a document for the 
   icon to open were two separate operations; 
   Word won't create the document for you.  
      Second discovery: when you double- 
   click the icon, you don't get the document 
   right away.  First Word has to load and 
   fire up all of its forty million features.  Ye 
   cats, what would Word be like on a slow 
   computer?  
      I reformatted the page setup to the 
   size of paper I put my grocery lists on, 
   and fiddled around to find a pleasing 
   combination of heading type and body type; 
   I kept the default body of ten point Times 
   Roman (I use at least twelve points for 
   everything else), but I didn't think to 
   "style" the headings, and put them in by 
   hand.  Pity; I've never found a use for the 
   "heading 1" and "heading 2", and can't 
   find out how to get them off the menu.  
      Then I thought I'd better print a copy 
   to see how it looked.  Though I'd asked for 
   half-inch margins, it spontaneously put in 
   a four-inch left margin, so that all but the 
   first five letters of each line printed on 
   the platen.  This is an entirely new aber- 
   ration.  Word doesn't like small paper, but 
   it's never before printed beside it.  
      At this point I executed a "save as text 
   only" and drastically re-arranged the icons 
   in my PC-Write window.  Maybe you can 
   keep a shopping list on a computer, but it 
   isn't convenient to do it with Word.  
      And when I got my computerized list all 
   done, I pulled a hardcopy and stuck it on 
   the fridge.  
                                                           
   25 August 1993 
      Whoosh.  I cut out a new pair of pants, 
   and now I'm exhausted.  Doesn't help that 
   it's already 80ø.  
      Couldn't find anything suitable for 
   pants in the stores, so I decided that I 
   might as well cut another pair from that 
   thin brown twill.  It doesn't wear worth a 
   nickel, but what I need is a pair to save 
   back for good, and it does make 
   nice-looking pants when it's new.  I 
   think there's enough left to make a 
   matching blouse, if I think up a 
   suitable style.  
      Been a while since I did any sewing, so 
   there were many complications.  Such as 
   half an hour figuring out how to get 
   Dave's computer off the little table in the 
   dining room; I need the dining-room table 
   to keep cloth from hanging off the end of 
   the living-room table and dragging 
   on what I'm trying to cut.  Never did find 
   my good sewing shears, but the red- 
   handled "high tech" shears were able to 
   chew through the feeble twill.  
      Aha!  Was just thinking that the stain- 
   less shears could never have handled that 
   shifting, squirming cotton knit that I tried 
   to make into a jersey ÄÄ I'll bet that I 
   folded my shears up inside the knit when I 
   gave up trying to lay it out.  At the time, 
   I thought I'd try again soon.  I think I'd 
   be cheaper off to buy something decent 
   and give that length to the Salvation Army.  
      It would make good mop rags.  
      Yesterday, I finally made my yoghurt 
   potato salad.  I put in some olive oil, and 
   much more garlic than last time.  The 
   garlic dissolved the salt, instead of the 
   other way round, but I got it pureed 
   anyhow.  Left out the vinegar, of course.  
   The salad tends to separate, but re-stirs 
   easily, and is quite good.  My mayo-loving 
   spouse approved.  
      I forgot to put pickles in the dressing, 
   and he missed them.  So today I cut up a 
   few "sweet gherkins" and stirred them in.  
      The salad was still warm when Dave 
   came home for supper yesterday, so I put 
   five little new potatoes on to boil, and put 
   two ears of corn on to steam.  When I 
   thought the potatoes were nearly done, had 
   the skillet hot, and was on the verge of 
   flouring a club steak, Dave's pager went 
   off.  
      We'd been having thunderstorm warn- 
   ings ÄÄ in fact, I'd shut down the com- 
   puter ÄÄ so I thought it was another 
   announcement.  But some tourist at the 
   overlook had seen a fully-involved house 
   fire on Picard Road.  Double take: you 
   can't see Picard Road from Thatcher Park.  
   Second double take: it was the overlook at 
   Thompson's Lake Campground.  I thought 
   Thompson's Lake was miles from the 
   escarpment.  Ah, well, a campground 
   doesn't have to be anywhere near the lake 
   it's named after, and I could have 
   Thompson's confused with some other lake.  
      I turned off all the burners and 
   wondered whether I'd need to rush to the 
   scene and hand out muffins.  A Keystone 
   Cops scene ensued, with a park ranger 
   watching the lights and sirens and making 
   telephone calls to the dispatcher, deputies 
   zipping around, and the fire slowly 
   migrating north.  For a while there I 
   thought it might be Peter Ten Eyke's 
   house, but it went on past Indian Ladder.  
      They finally found ÄÄ a controlled 
   brush fire.  The fellow controlling the burn 
   had reported it, but the dispatcher re- 
   checked all his papers and couldn't find 
   anything.  He said that he was going to 
   call the sheriff's office to see whether 
   they'd taken the call, and after that there 
   was nothing but "back in service" reports.  
      When Dave came home, he said that the 
   fellow had applied for and received a 
   burning permit from the town, but the 
   town didn't bother to tell the emergency 
   services.  I hope some clerk gets jumped 
   on by a fire chief, a dispatcher, a sheriff, 
   a park ranger, and an irate citizen.  
      Make that two fire chiefs.  The "fire" 
   passed through Voorheesville's territory.  
                                                           
   31 August 1993 
      I don't like the way Freida was lurking 
   in the spare room when I got up.  I hope 
   we haven't got mice.  
      Yesterday, I got the garden cultivated, 
   pulled the yellow onions, and plowed the 
   multipliers out of the ground and put them 
   in my pocket.  There are just enough 
   multiplier bulbs to plant next year.  I 
   carried the yellow onions to the shed in 
   handfuls to save walking back to the house 
   for a container.  We are definitely going to 
   buy onions this winter.  
      I suppose I should start now and buy a 
   fat spanish onion whenever I want one to 
   slice.  
      Hope I get the garlic planted today; 
   Emily will hit Real Soon Now, and a 
   noreaster is exactly what a newly-planted 
   bulb needs.  
      We can use the rain in any case.  I 
   imagine that the folks in the Carolinas 
   anticipate the storm with entirely different 
   emotions.  
      The U.S. weather service accidentally 
   sent out a picture of the Earth that wasn't 
   scrambled, taken by visible light at night, 
   or otherwise useless.  They may have 
   settled for forgetting the start and synch 
   pulses; if you happen to be right there, 
   you can compensate for that.  There's 
   something that looks mighty like another 
   hurricane right behind Emily.  The cloud 
   patterns at first glance look like a dotted 
   line of about five hurricanes.  Dave made a 
   paper copy of that one.  
      I got an order for copy #16 of "How to 
   Edit Your Club's Newsletter" yesterday.  
   Which leads me to meditate, as I often do, 
   upon the strange designs of things.  A 
   standard mailbox is almost big enough to 
   accept a 9 x 12 envelope.  
      I wonder whether I could buy a pack- 
   age of 8 15/16 x 12 envelopes somewhere?  
      I really ought to run down to the post 
   office, but it's hot out there.  
      I got the garlic in before I wilted.  
      Latest weather report says that the 
   front that is supposed to bring us showers 
   this afternoon might shove Emily back out 
   to sea.  Good news, if she doesn't wind up 
   her spring out there and come straight 
   back.  
      That spot on the photograph isn't a 
   tropical depression, but might develop into 
   one.  
                                                           
   1 September 1993 
      Dot printers should be equipped with a 
   slightly-oversize type to use when one's 
   ribbon is dying.  
      Today was cool and clear, and would 
   have been a good day to hop on my bike 
   and go buy a new ribbon, had I thought of 
   it before sunset.  
      Got the garlic planted, but Emily 
   backed out of her part of the bargain.  
   Lots of folks are glad of that.  The grass 
   looked wet this morning, but when I dug a 
   hole under the oak to plant a start of my 
   mystery vine, the soil was dry and dusty.  
      NSVFD got its pride and joy inspected 
   today.  The first thing the ladder-truck 
   inspectors said when they saw 2370 was 
   "Boy, that's clean!"  
                                                           
   September 4, 1993 
      Didn't organize myself and go Friday, 
   and now Monday is a holiday.  Hope the 
   ribbon holds up.  
      Decided to quit procrastinating and 
   order that gabardine from Oppenheimer.  
   Ripped out the order blank, turned to the 
   page -- and it's poplin.  I'm not at all sure 
   what poplin is, and the dictionary says 
   only "twill, various weights, used for 
   clothing and curtains."  
      I'll have to take in the area's two 
   fabric stores on my way back from buying 
   the ribbon.  Means turning left across 
   Central, but I have to do that when I come 
   back the way I came.  And once I get to 
   the mall, I can come out the back way and 
   not have to deal with Central any more.  
      I think there's a footpath connecting 
   Northway Mall with the park that runs from 
   Fuller Road to Rapp Road, but I'm not sure 
   it goes through, and I'd never find it from 
   the Northway end.  Not to mention that the 
   path didn't look suitable for road bikes.  I 
   can take my road bike anywhere a muddy 
   can take a mountain bike, but that doesn't 
   mean that I will.  
      A day or two after complaining that 
   Freida was lurking in the spare room, I 
   found some guts, cat vomit, and a mouse 
   head in the entry.  Cats are such dainty, 
   clean creatures.  
                                                           
   6 September 1993 
      Fred is the only person I know, human 
   or feline, who can lie down aggressively.  
   After getting mauled, he left the bedroom 
   almost long enough for me to put a clean 
   sheet on the bed.  
      After desisting for enough weeks to put 
   me off my guard, Freida has resumed 
   licking.  Maybe the hot weather sapped her 
   energy.  
                                                           
   8 September 1993 
      Late though it is, we can still use this 
   rain ÄÄ but I could do without the cold, 
   clammy temperature that came with it.  
   Dave tested the furnace this morning, and 
   made it more comfortable, but it's still 
   gloomy.  
      Erica has consented to come inside.  
                                                           
      Got the pres. mess. this morning, only a 
   week late.  That makes us a two-page 
   bikeabout.  
      Slight exaggeration.  A reprint 
   requested by the president runs over onto 
   page four, so that makes a three-page 
   bikeabout.  (Started on p. three, where the 
   President's Writeabout belongs.  Got the 
   announcement for the meeting and the 
   cover photo almost on time.)  
      Better be something good in the 
   exchange newsletters.  
      When I was teaching math in a small 
   school, I got a kick out of mail addressed 
   to the head of the Math Department.  The 
   mail I get for owning an office-model 
   typewriter isn't as much fun, but my 
   appointment books have my name on them 
   in gold, and Dave carries a brass ball-point 
   inscribed "compliments of Joy Beeson."  
      Sigh.  I could shuffle that stuff into 
   four pages -- but we've got to have a 
   back cover.  (Maybe I could reduce it to a 
   return address, bulk-mail stamp, and a 
   place to put the label?)  Looks like I need 
   three pages of filler.  
      Perhaps at the next board meeting, I 
   should suggest that we skip the October 
   issue instead of the January issue, or 
   issue the October issue late enough to 
   include the Century reports, and skip 
   November.  
                                                           
   10 September 1993 
      I needed a hard hyphen in the minutes 
   I was copying into the Bikeabout, so I 
   tried the PC-Write command (shift-ctl 
   hyphen) to see whether it would work.  A 
   dash appeared.  "Hot dog!" says I, "Why 
   didn't they tell me that you don't have to 
   go through the symbol menu to get a 
   dash!"  But how do you make a hard 
   hyphen?  Only one reference to hyphens in 
   the index, to the section on non-printing 
   characters.  "A non-dividing hyphen 
   displays as a long hyphen."  So I toggled 
   the View mode off, and my dash turned 
   into a hyphen.  
      I think I'll "shortcut" the key that I 
   defined as a dash in PC-Write to a Word 
   macro that turns the symbol menu on and 
   inserts a dash.  
      Sigh.  Only forty-eight of the ninety- 
   four keys can be used as "shortcuts." What 
   sort of tomfoolery is that?  Finally settled 
   on F12, because it was near the key I 
   wanted, and I probably won't want the 
   function it used to have.  
      I've really got to get around to going 
   to Logical Micros to ask whether they have 
   any books about Microsoft Publisher.  Not 
   to mention buying a ribbon.  
      The ride calendar editor called.  I don't 
   have to go to the printshop until 
   Wednesday.  
                                                           
   15 September 1993 
      I took the Bikeabout to the print shop 
   today.  That always makes me feel that I've 
   done everything that is expected of me for 
   the rest of my life.  
      Real Soon now, I must make up the list 
   of contributor's labels to send to the 
   publisher, and write a postcard to the 
   treasurer to tell him how many, and send 
   the photo I'm not using back to the 
   Membership Chairman and explain that I'm 
   using the rest of them in November, unless 
   we have so much Century stuff that I have 
   to postpone them until December, and I may 
   just do that anyway, because the December 
   deadline is so early that we often don't 
   have much stuff for it.  
      And Dave wants an apple pie.  
      The ribbon was a trifle faded, but 
   printable.  I worried that it might not last 
   to the end of the job; last month I had to 
   change the ribbon, and re-do two of the 
   pages just for being pale.  This month, 
   there was no backup.  
      I ended up with eight pages, and had 
   to postpone Betty Lou's photo-essay on the 
   bikepaths of Illinois University ÄÄ mainly 
   because I forgot that I had it.  
      I handed out water and fruit at the 
   thirty-mile mark on the fifty on Saturday, 
   and sat at the fifteen-mile mark on the 
   twenty-five on Sunday.  Brought a grocery 
   bag of cores and peelings home on Satur- 
   day, and gave out one cooler and two jugs 
   of water.  I gave out only a few pieces of 
   fruit on Sunday, and dispensed scarcely 
   more water than I poured into my own 
   bottle.  Probably about as many people, but 
   fewer stopped, and few of those who did 
   stop wanted water.  
      Saturday I was in a little park, but 
   never even looked at my knitting.  This 
   was more for lack of a comfortable place to 
   sit than from the press of business, for I 
   did read several chapters of Beebe's 
   "Nonsuch: Land of Water."  
      Sunday I was stationed at an aband- 
   oned store that had a lovely wooden porch, 
   and I sat on it and spread my knitting out 
   beside me.  It was a better place to deal 
   with those four tangled balls, two of them 
   unraveled, than my own easy chair.  I got 
   the shoulder cap figured out, and knitted 
   up all the unraveled wool, before business 
   slacked off and I began to miss the out- 
   house I'd had at the other station.  The 
   former owner of the store dropped in a few 
   times, and taught me a new crochet stitch 
   that makes a reversible afghan.  She said 
   that the current owner plans to re-open it 
   as a restaurant or bed-and-breakfast.  I 
   sure hope he's selling ice-cream and hot 
   chocolate this time next year!  
                                                           
   16 September 1993 
      It's a good thing I counted Erica's pills 
   today!  When I had a few left over after 
   filling the pill-a-day box for this week, I 
   thought I could pick up pills next Monday.  
   But I filled the box on Friday, and there 
   were only two left over, so she'd have 
   taken her last pill on Sunday.  
      So they will have the prescription 
   ready for me tomorrow afternoon.  I'm 
   planning to spend today buying ribbon, if 
   I get moving.  It's cold out there, it has 
   been several days since I've seen the 
   sneakers I carry in my basket in case of 
   emergency, it's already nearly too late to 
   start out to go that far, and in general, 
   going back to bed seems like a much better 
   idea.  
      I wonder where my sneakers are?  
   Dave's sweat shirt turned up in the basket 
   of paper bags; maybe I should look there 
   again.  
      Finding a sweat shirt in the scrap 
   paper isn't as odd as I thought at first: 
   the basket is under a coat hook.  
                                                           
   18 September 1993 
      The sneakers were under the bed, 
   where I'd looked dozens of times.  
      Looking out the window, I'm glad I 
   chickened out of doing the wash.  There 
   were quite a lot of those scattered 
   showers.  
      I made a potato salad with both a glop 
   of mayonnaise and a box of yogurt.  I think 
   I've got a winner here!  Also put in half a 
   glop of olive oil, and no more vinegar than 
   it took to wash the salt and garlic out of 
   the mortar.  
      I may have overdone the garlic.  Sent 
   the bigger half of my harvest to the 
   firehouse with Dave; he says one of the 
   boys wants it, and wants to know where it 
   came from.  
                                                           
                                                           
                                                           
                                                           
  A Duck Tale 
  by Evelyn Beeson 
    
      Winona Lake is a small lake in northern 
   Indiana.  I live on the east side of the lake 
   and my back yard runs down to the water.  
   We are on a fly-way and are visited in 
   season by ducks, geese, gulls, and even 
   herons and cranes.  
      My granddaughter and her family were 
   paying a short visit.  Mark and his little 
   son were in the back yard blowing 
   bubbles.  Then Mark came in and said, 
   "Grandma, there is a little lost baby duck 
   out here."  
      I went out and, sure enough, there was 
   a baby duck sitting on the grass.  Mark 
   and I searched along the lake front and 
   beside the creek that runs near my house, 
   but could find no mother duck.  
      The little duck was a mallard, and 
   mallards are migratory fowl, protected by 
   the U.S. government.  It is against the law 
   to disturb a next, pen one up, or kill one 
   except in duck hunting season.  I knew all 
   this, but I also knew that this particular 
   duck would not survive the night if left 
   outside.  There are two large dogs and two 
   cats next door, and also wild predators 
   along the creek.  
      I couldn't call the Fish and Wildlife 
   Service until Monday (this was late 
   Saturday afternoon), so I took the duck 
   inside and put it into a small box with a 
   small dish of water.  I pushed its bill into 
   the water and got it to drinking, and then 
   put some bread crumbs in the bottom of 
   the box.  The duck paid no attention to the 
   crumbs.  
      We were having a family gathering at 
   my son's house, so we all went there and 
   left the duck at home.  I told the family 
   about the little duck, but no one was 
   interested in taking care of it.  I was 
   disappointed.  I have had considerable 
   experience with wildlife, but I'm eighty-six 
   years old and this baby duck seemed just 
   one too many.  
      When I got home the duck had not 
   eaten the crumbs, but I could tell that it 
   had splashed in the water.  When I put 
   some crumbs in my hand, the duck ate 
   them greedily.  Before I went to bed I 
   placed a folded, well-worn wash cloth in 
   the corner of the box so he could crawl 
   under it if it got chilly in the night.  I fed 
   him more crumbs at four and at eight in 
   the morning.  He ate a hearty breakfast.  
      When I started to wash dishes, I looked 
   out the window and saw a mother duck 
   with seven very small babies down by the 
   lake.  I picked up baby duck and took him 
   outside.  He nestled quietly in my hands 
   until he saw his mother.  Then he went 
   wild, squawking and struggling.  And then 
   his mother saw him!  She lowered her head 
   and came at me as though she would tear 
   me apart.  I put him down and he ran to 
   her, somewhat wobbly, but he got there.  
   They joined the other ducklings and 
   Mother led them triumphantly into the 
   water.  
      That evening I told Mark what had 
   happened to the baby duck.  He said, 
   "Well, that duck will have quite a story to 
   tell to his grandchildren."  
      Yes, quite a story: how he was lost, 
   then captured, placed in a tiny cell, fed 
   only bread and water, and had to sleep on 
   the floor with only a ragged blanket.  
   Then, most tragic of all, taken from the cell 
   ÄÄ no doubt expecting a firing squad.  But 
   then he saw his mother, called to her, and 
   she rescued him!  
                                                           
                                                           
  ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 
  ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

   19 September 1993 
      Dave got tired of the screaming and 
   ordered a copy of Publisher.  He said he 
   ran across a really good sale.  I'd been 
   planning to pick up some literature on it 
   tomorrow, my attempt to buy a how-to-use- 
   Publisher book having come to nothing.  
                                                           
      I think this time I'm really 
   going to go.  Haven't collected any 
   books to drop off at Canterbury 
   Tales, though.  
                                                           
      Washed shirts, underwear, and bed 
   linen today -- nearly one whole load 
   devoted to stuff a cat threw up on.  I 
   wonder whether there is some way to teach 
   them to use the bath mat instead of 
   hopping into the bed.  Also mowed the 
   back yard as far as the garden.  Not much 
   else accomplished, if you don't count 
   several rounds of Minesweeper.  
                                                           
   20 September 1993 
      Have I mentioned that the girls are 
   getting together in Chicago on June 10?  
   I'm hoping to rent a car and drive to 
   Winona Lake afterward, but so far nothing 
   is set enough for me to consult a travel 
   agent.  Haven't even told the president he 
   has to find a sub again, but he'll read 
   about it in the October Bikeabout.  
      Dave is going to Indianapolis next week, 
   just a little too early to drop in on Alice 
   and Don's anniversary party, and just a 
   little too far south to go see his mother.  
   Something to do with Cummings Diesel.  I 
   plan to stay up late every night, and eat 
   lots of garlic.  
      (When I leave him alone, he eats 
   anchovies.)  
      He may have time to take in Union 
   Station, but doesn't perk up when I 
   mention it.  I told him to eat a dish of 
   Sweet Cream ice cream for me if he goes 
   there.  He's staying at a motel in 
   Speedway, one named after the track.  
                                                           
   21 September 1993 
      Finally went to Colonie and bought 
   three ribbons and a mouse pad.  Forty- 
   eight dollars!  Ye cats!  
      As I was marvelling at putting that 
   much money into such a small part of one 
   of my bike baskets, I reflected that that 
   was nearly half of what Dave paid for the 
   bike twenty years ago -- and at that time 
   I'd have thought a "mouse pad" was a 
   beatnik mouse hole.  
      At the two fabric stores, I remembered 
   that I'd searched these stores before; 
   apparently, nobody makes pants.  There's 
   truckloads of quilt stuff.  
      I found a flimsy crepe that might do in 
   a pinch -- thirty dollars a yard!  At the 
   other store, I found a fine-wale corduroy 
   that would have been perfect, but it didn't 
   come in black and I don't need tan or 
   paisley pants.  Bought a piece of plaid 
   cotton flannel to make a head scarf.  
      Explored the dead-end road that points 
   toward Six-Mile Park behind Northway Mall, 
   and found a couple of foot paths that I 
   wouldn't have tackled in hip boots, let 
   alone while hauling a bike.  By what I saw 
   later, I imagine the breaks in the bushes 
   led to fishing spots.  Upon following the 
   parking lot to the left, I found what 
   appeared to be a footpath that cut across 
   to Railroad Avenue.  Since that was where 
   I was headed, I took it.  Turned out to be 
   a path behind the warehouses along Rail- 
   road Avenue, and there wasn't any place to 
   get out to the road before I got to the 
   railroad, which was close to where I'd 
   planned to turn off onto Fuller anyhow.  
      A pleasant walk; I'd have changed 
   shoes had I known how far it was, but the 
   path was mostly soft sand, so it didn't 
   matter that I was wearing cleats.  The path 
   ran along a small river, and had been 
   mowed to keep down the brush; I passed a 
   picnic table and a lawn chair.  Ended in an 
   unauthorized dump, but someone had piled 
   debris to either side of the path and many 
   a road isn't so clean.  
      Someday I may come back to see wheth- 
   er the path continues past the railroad into 
   the park; the creek looked larger than the 
   one that runs through the reservoir in the 
   park, but it's got to be the same one.  
      I cut through the park back to Rapp 
   road, and flushed a white-tailed deer along 
   the way.  On the road, I'm conditioned to 
   hit the brakes if I'm in the car, or to be 
   very quiet if I'm on the bike, but on the 
   bike path there wasn't room to steer 
   around it and I couldn't convert to the car 
   reflex.  I coasted down on it with my 
   mouth hanging open, and might have gotten 
   hurt if the deer hadn't had more sense 
   than I had.  On a residential road later on, 
   I had a similar experience with a couple of 
   squirrels.  At least with the deer, you can 
   be sure it isn't going to jump into your 
   path.  
      When you're on a bike, that is.  
      In Voorheesville, I stopped traffic for 
   my own personal convenience.  Strange 
   experience to be having for the first time 
   at well over fifty, but I'm a withdrawn 
   little creature.  Got into the village and 
   found traffic from the intersection of 
   Altamont Road and 85A backed up past the 
   Mobil station.  Pulled up behind a pickup 
   truck and waited for the line to move.  
   And waited and waited.  After the inter- 
   section had been clear several times, I 
   realized that the road was clogged on the 
   far side too.  (The road curves sharply 
   right there, and it was hard to see.)  I 
   had a vague impression of flashing lights, 
   so I crossed the street at the next 
   opportunity, intending to walk past the 
   obstruction.  Of course, the line started 
   creeping the instant my cleats hit the 
   sidewalk and the pickup was long gone by 
   the time I got to where I could see 
   sheriff's cars.  By this time, I was tired of 
   walking in cleats, and it looked harder to 
   cross where the sidewalk ended, so when I 
   got to the crosswalk that leads into the 
   school parking lot, I waited for oncoming 
   traffic to clear, then stepped out into the 
   road and held up my hand for people 
   creeping toward the scene to stop.  They 
   did, and I remounted in the parking lot 
   and rode out the entrance; couldn't see 
   anything except that the van that had 
   sirened past me in the village was among 
   the red-and-white vehicles parked by the 
   road, and there seemed to be more than 
   one civilian car.  I presume it was a crash; 
   it was all over before I got home to my 
   scanner.  2321 passed me along the way; it 
   was, Dave said, on the way back from 
   another crash near Hilton Road.  Busy day 
   for the deputies.  
      Didn't ask whether the small pumper 
   was standing by while the forcible-entry 
   tool was used, or hosing debris off the 
   road.  
      I stopped at Paradise Foods to buy 
   rose-hip powder for my high-calorie 
   muffins.  They didn't have any, but I 
   managed to spend $26.92 anyway.  
      And I think I forgot to buy raisins.  
                                                           
   22 September 1993 
      A mouse pad does make the ball roll 
   more reliably, but its primary benefit is 
   that it reserves space on the desk for the 
   mouse ÄÄ and that your fingers touch the 
   edge of the pad before the mouse does, so 
   you don't get those little surprises when 
   you run out of tail.  
      But who told Freida what it was called?  
   She didn't (knock wood) push any buttons 
   for me today.  Snagged the mouse pad, 
   though.  
                                                           
   24 September 1993 
      We were afraid that we'd miss Dave's 
   plane because traffic was backed up nearly 
   to Western from a crash on the bridge just 
   this side of Albany Street.  The deputies 
   ought to have signs they can put up at 
   the intersections around a crash.  Though 
   a warning would have had to be clear back 
   at Western to have done us any good, since 
   the Northway is the only alternative to 155.  
      I encountered another crash on 155 
   when coming home.  I didn't take note of 
   the exact spot, but I saw the flashing 
   lights a split second too late to turn down 
   Nott road and come home past the rifle 
   range.  At this time of day, traffic on that 
   section of 155 was mostly going my way, so 
   it wasn't difficult to get past.  Except for 
   the worry and indecision.  Couldn't see 
   how bad it was, but they were getting a 
   stretcher out of the ambulance.  
      I stopped at the quilter's shop in 
   Shaker Pines shopping center.  I knew that 
   they don't sell corduroy, but thought that 
   a little delay would give time to clear up 
   155.  Alas, that brought me into rush hour 
   ÄÄ and I'll bet the Guilderland police were 
   glad to get out of there!  And I spent 
   $48.60 on muslin while in Country Cottons.  
   ($45 muslin and $3.60 tax.)  
      Figured I might as well make it a clean 
   sweep and stop at Fountain of Fabrics; 
   asked for cord and she said she didn't 
   have black.  Probably what she did have 
   was dry-clean anyhow, this being a fancy- 
   fabric shop.  There was some pretty stuff, 
   but I was not tempted.  Took note that 
   they sell real silk, though, and not any 
   more expensive than many synthetics.  
   While I was wandering around, two women 
   were discussing how surprisingly bad 
   business had been this summer.  
      I happened to park in front of Price 
   Chopper, and I'd brought a fresh shopping 
   list, so I went in even though this one is a 
   superola.  Found the Bon Ami without much 
   trouble, then took several laps looking for 
   salt.  Finally located the baking supplies 
   and seasonings, but there wasn't any 
   potassium chloride, though there was one 
   choice of salt diluted with calcium chloride.  
   I'd been keeping an eye out for syrup all 
   this time without finding any clues, and I 
   hadn't the vaguest idea where to start 
   looking for the "dietetic" section (where I 
   presumed the KCl to be), so I took my Bon 
   Ami and checked out.  The Muzack was 
   getting to me anyhow.  
      I didn't have to stand in line very long 
   even though it was rush hour.  I think it 
   would be a better store than the Price 
   Chopper in 20-Mall if they put maps on the 
   carts.  But the Price Chopper across from 
   Robinson's is well ahead of those two rolled 
   together; the smaller store has at least as 
   much stuff to buy as the larger stores, 
   and you can find it.  
      I didn't look to see whether they had 
   electric carts like the one in 20-Mall; 
   anyone with the least difficulty in walking 
   would find them a necessity in that huge 
   place.  
      As I was about to leave, I decided to 
   take a turn through Paper Cutter even 
   though I hadn't brought the things I want 
   copied.  Found a fifty-disk 3«" file for less 
   than five dollars ÄÄ $5.39 with tax.  I 
   found it pleasing that the most useful case 
   was the cheapest.  
      I've got Erica inside now, so I think I'll 
   go to bed even though it's only 9:21.  The 
   clock on the computer screen gives seconds 
   too, but I can't type that fast.  
      I was mistaken about Dave's destination.  
   He's staying in Speedway only one night, 
   and spending most of his time in the 
   Holiday Inn in Columbus.  
                                                           
   25 September 1993 
      Just remembered that I rather liked the 
   Super Shop 'n Save in Clifton park, where 
   I was sent last year to buy water for the 
   Century.  But it was organized like a 
   warehouse, not like an exploded super- 
   market ÄÄ and the water was fifty cents a 
   gallon, which gave me the impression that 
   the prices really are lower than in stores 
   where you don't have to walk so far.  
   Prices are "chopped" in Price Chopper only 
   by comparison with convenience store.  
      Speaking of convenience, Stonewell 
   Market delivers, and if you place a 
   moderately-large order ($20, I think), or if 
   you are too old to run your own errands, 
   there is no charge.  I should stash one of 
   their flyers in case of emergency.  
      When I went out for the paper, the dew 
   on the grass looked suspiciously like 
   melting frost.  We shall see when the sun 
   has been on the tomatoes for a while.  
   Looks as though it's going to be a good 
   day to mow the lawn.  Endlich!  I've been 
   putting off washing my garden pants 
   because I was about to mow the poison ivy, 
   and they've gotten pretty grungy.  
      I saw some poplin at Fountain of 
   Fabrics, and I'm very glad that I didn't 
   order any to make pants.  It would make a 
   good bed sheet, if wide enough.  
                                                           
   26 September 1993 
      It was a good day for mowing, but 
   being virtuous kept me from getting my 
   work done.  
      I wrote some letters in the morning and 
   used up all the stamps.  I had to get to 
   the post office before it closed at 12:00 and 
   after pointing out to myself that I had to 
   change clothes anyway, I went upstairs to 
   put on my shorts, tights, etc.  Discovered 
   when changing that I'd put on my cleaner 
   black denims by mistake and need only put 
   on shoes to be presentable, but continued 
   hunting out my winter cycling clothes.  
   (Where did I put my mitten liners last 
   spring!)  Then I had to move the lawn 
   mower to get the bike out, and remembered 
   that I had used up all the gasoline the last 
   time I mowed.  I think I could strap the 
   gas can on the back of the bike, but I'd a 
   heap rather not.  
      On the other hand, it would freak out 
   xxx if I stopped a bike at the pumps and 
   filled up with gasoline!  
      Anyhow, I figured I'd run my errands 
   at the post office, bank, hardware store, 
   and Mobil station, then change into lawn- 
   mowing clothes and dash out for gasoline.  
   When buying the milk, I contemplated the 
   humor of buying two gallons to run the 
   bike, then coming back to buy a few more 
   gallons for the car.  
      But first I had to eat, then it was time 
   for my after-dinner nap, then the mail had 
   come . . .  
      I don't have to move the lawn mower to 
   get out the car, so I probably would have 
   forgotten the gas anyway.  
                                                           
   26 September 1993 
      I've got Erica trained.  Every night on 
   my way to bed, I go to the door and call 
   her name, and she comes running.  The 
   cold weather has taken all the fun out of 
   sleeping under the car.  
      I find myself walking around Dave even 
   though he isn't here.  
                                                           
   27 September 1993 
      As I was deciding whether to top-stitch 
   a continuous inseam in one stretch or two, 
   it started to rain harder.  Thinking that 
   Erica might now be willing to come inside, I 
   came downstairs.  I opened the garage door 
   so that she could see a clear path to 
   shelter, then bent to look under the cars.  
   Erica dashed out the other side, as if 
   fleeing me.  Puzzled, I stepped inside to 
   open the door she usually comes and goes 
   by -- just in time to see her returning to 
   the Saab carrying something the color of a 
   mouse and the size of a chipmunk.  Nope, 
   Erica is not interested in coming in out of 
   the rain.  
      And I thought she was safe from worms 
   and disease because she spent all her 
   outdoor time napping under the car!  
      By the time I finished writing that, it 
   had quit raining, so Erica asked to be let 
   in.  She reminded me that she'd left in 
   such a hurry this morning that she didn't 
   get the Tender Vittles I usually give her 
   for taking her pill, ate them, and asked to 
   be let back out.  I hope that means that 
   her prey escaped.  
                                                           
   28 September 1993 
      This morning Erica came limping up to 
   the house asking to be let in; she got a 
   10:20 appointment with the vet instead.  
   The vet thinks it's just a sprain, but she 
   gave me a bottle of antibiotic anyway, 
   because fang marks are so hard to find in 
   fur.  
      Erica asked to go out this evening.  
   She hissed at me when I said she couldn't 
   go, but went back to bed.  
      It's the left hind leg; I've been trying 
   ever since to remember whether the Vetalog 
   is for the right front or left front elbow.  
   The right, I think.  
      Erica isn't a climber; I can't think how 
   she could fall far enough to get a sprain.  
      Finally got around to the back .49 this 
   afternoon ÄÄ and after all that guilt, it 
   didn't really need mowing.  I mowed a 
   patch of Margie's poison ivy, and the part 
   near the front where the aspens are trying 
   to come up.  A herd of phys-ed students 
   or a track team came through while I was 
   mowing the aspens.  I'd wondered why the 
   path was so wide and shallow.  Hope none 
   of them get a rash because I stirred up 
   the poison ivy, but they're supposed to 
   take showers after class anyhow, and 
   surely by now they know what they are 
   trampling through.  
                                                           
   29 September 1993 
      Erica doesn't seem to be limping as 
   badly this morning, but I haven't seen 
   much of her.  To my relief, she didn't make 
   any fuss about having to take two pills 
   before I let her have her Tender Vittles.  
   She was annoyed that I wouldn't let her 
   out afterward, though.  Curling up under 
   the car would be as good for her as 
   sacking out in the cellar, but something 
   might make her move without regard for 
   the sore leg.  
      Yesterday, she wasn't interested in 
   eating her pill before getting canned food, 
   but I put the cheeseball on top and it went 
   down with the rest.  
      Late afternoon.  Erica has gotten fed 
   up with the "rest at home" bit, even 
   though I moved the glove chest to let her 
   look out the window while lying down.  I'm 
   now afraid to go in and out for fear that 
   Erica's body language will re-injure her 
   leg.  It's hard to tell, because I haven't 
   seen her move when she wasn't desperate, 
   but she doesn't seem to be favoring the 
   leg much now.  
                                                           
   Friday 1 October 1993 
                                                           
      Erica has strange and wonderful ways 
   of dealing with her game leg.  
      I overlooked some of the old storms and 
   screens when I took the rest out for Jimmy 
   to carry away when he was putting in the 
   new ones, and they are still in the cellar 
   because they've never gotten in the way 
   enough to make us figure out what to do 
   with them.  One of those screens is leaning 
   against a pillar near the pool table.  While 
   I was putting shirts in the washer this 
   morning, Erica began to climb the screen, 
   then somehow got all four feet on the 
   narrow slat ("muntin"?) across the middle 
   of the screen.  That's no way for a 
   crippled cat to behave!  
      Before I could get the soap off my 
   hands, she somehow climbed to the pool 
   table, though it meant standing with her 
   bad leg on the screen.  I suppose I'd 
   better go down and put something more 
   convenient beside the table before she 
   finishes her nap.  
                                                           
   Sunday, October 1993 
      I put two tablespoons of cornstarch 
   into the apple pie I made today and it still 
   came out swimming in cider syrup.  I've 
   half a notion to use a quarter cup when I 
   make up the last pie shell!  
      Erica is still limping, and getting cross 
   at being kept inside.  I moved the glove 
   chest over by the window, to give her a 
   place to look out, and found that it also 
   keeps her from coming at the door from 
   the side.  
                                                           
   Monday 4 October 1993 
      If you're wondering how she gets on 
   the chest now that she can't jump, I put 
   the old armchair I change shoes on close 
   beside it; she finds the chair, which is 
   covered with a ragged wool blanket, a 
   handy place to nap.  
      She cussed at me for a while when she 
   ate her pills like a good girl and still 
   didn't get to go out, but I think she is 
   napping somewhere now.  
                                                           
      I have decided to resume the banner 
   even though I'm still getting "some kind of 
   problem with Drive C" messages; it seems 
   to work anyhow even though I always hit 
   "stop trying."  The previous two entries, 
   and this one, were recorded with Word in 
   "addenda.txt" ÄÄ and I'm feeling abused.  
   I'm not accustomed to having to type the 
   date.  Word will insert a date, but it's 
   easier to type it by hand.  And the key 
   I'm accustomed to use is already assigned 
   in Word, so it isn't convenient to write a 
   macro.