.R:V ---L--P+----1----@10--2----+----3-----R I hit Dave up for Saturday's pizza today. While we were waiting for it, Onesquethaw borrowed NSVFD's brush truck, to the accompaniment of an embarrassing amount of squawks and beeps out of Dave's pager. Dave was pleased when one of the Onesquethaw firemen said that now that they had New Salem's brush truck, all would be well. Speaking of the "good little truck" reminded him that Fred had bought the brush truck, and that reminded him that Fred had bought all of NSVFD's trucks. Fred left a big hole in the fire company, among other places. I should mention at intervals that "Fred" sometimes means Fred Carl and sometimes means Fred Cat. No connection that I know of. I never mentioned the week Dave's car had an appointment for maintenance on Tuesday, my car had an appointment for a new windshield on Wednesday, and I had an appointment to get a skin tag off on Thursday. Found another before seeing Casey, and he took that off too. They don't have to burn tags off or cut them out any more, they give them a few puffs with something like liquid nitrogen, and the part that sticks out freezes solid while the skin around it is still only windburnt. When the spots commenced to thaw soon after I left the office, they stung like sweat running into a scratch for five or ten minutes, and I didn't notice them after that. A week or so later, the dead tissue fell or got washed off and that was all there was to it. I've still got tiny patches pink from windburn, but I can't see the scars. (Maybe I could see them if they weren't in my armpits.) I no longer remember the exact date, but I still had the thorn in my paw at the time; I remember thinking afterward that I should have mentioned it to Casey. 13 September 1994 My calendar alarm went off for primary day, but I'm not going to bother going to the Voorheesville firehouse; I don't think people who aren't Republicans or Democrats are allowed to vote in primaries anyway. 14 September 1994 Freida caught another mole, this one alive and squeaking pitiably. Because the light was bad -- and because I didn't want to grab it with my bare hand -- it escaped and hid under the stove. Poor creature; she'd have killed it reasonably soon if I hadn't interfered. I thought I could carry her outside and make her drop it there. I thought we had the chinks in the foundation plugged up. Today's account of the malfunctioning voting machines implied that only Democrats were allowed to vote yesterday. So it's just as well that I didn't go to the polls. 15 September 1994 Somebody threw up animal guts in the middle of the night. Erica's fur still has a conspicuous dent where her bald spot was. I'm sure it didn't take her this long to get her belly fur back after her hysterectomy. On the other hand, she was a growing kitten at the time, and the boundaries of the shaven spot were less conspicuous. On the third hand, the new fur looks flatter, particularly in the spot that was sore, as if recently licked. We never did catch her at it. I suppose that when a human is around she has more interesting things to do -- such as getting to the other side of the door. 16 September 1994 Took the Bikeabout to the printer about half an hour before closing, a day late and an ad short. Luckily, it was a full page ad and I had a one-page filler -- attached with removable correction tape! I'm going to have to talk to Marty about surprising me that way. I do hope Touhey and Elliot meant to repeat. 17 September 1994 The jersey sold at the Century was a good buy, but I rejected it because men's sizes are too long to ride in. I should have gotten one to wear around the house. A few days ago I started wearing three old cotton jerseys for housework, and they've proven very suitable. The tails are long enough to carry about as many tomatoes as I'm likely to find in the garden, they are short enough to keep out of my way, and jerseys are made to move in. And 27" is a flattering length on me. (At least from the front!) I don't have much use for the three pockets in back, though. 80 in September? I thought I was exhausted or something until I noticed the sweat. It seems to finally be making good on the threats of rain it's been making all day -- but it looks like the sort of rain that will wimp out pretty soon. A few weeks ago I moved two hollyhocks out to the oak tree. Today I watered them, then deleted that chore from my calendar instead of moving it to next Friday. They are on their own. I dug up some woodruff with one of the hollyhocks, and it seems to be doing well. I also severed the antenna cable we had buried in the flowerbed, and now Dave is hunting all over for his other one. When we bury that one, I'd better go to Olsen's for a half-dozen zinc markers to plant on top of it. I wonder whether Olsen has "caution: buried cable" signs. 19 September 1994 I've been reclaiming the garden a foot or two a session. Today I quit when I got to the winter onions. I think my best bet for those is to dig them all out and start a new bed. Sure hope I finish before time to plant the garlic. It isn't difficult, because purslane crowded out the other weeds, and purslane is so easy to pull that I was dumbfounded when I took hold of a mallow stem about the same size as purslane. Moreover, purslane spreads so wide that three or four plucks will clear a square yard. 20 September 1994 They are making rapid progress installing the roof trusses of the new building -- and about time; it's supposed to go into operation in October. Rumor has it that the delay happened because the architect specified such weird trusses that nobody would bid on them, so they had to fire him and hire another architect to put on the roof. I thought custom trusses were like custom bike clothes: measure the building and specify one of the standard styles. When a similar delay afflicted the building where the highway-department engineers work, rumor had it that the trusses were actually delivered -- and didn't fit. You'd think the county would know how to pick an architect by now. Maybe they hired the steel-truss architect who repaired the engineers' building to design the wooden-truss E911 building. The hammering makes me nervous. It's muffled when I'm at the back of the house, and every now and again it starts up suddenly in the exact rhythm of Freida's retching. I never had a cat that threw up as much as Freida. Someday I'm going to ask the vet whether cats can get bulimia. If that's what she's got, it's working. Nobody would call this cat anorexic, but of the five butterballs in the house, she is the least buttery. I find completely undigested cat food often enough to suspect that Freida takes a Roman attitude toward eating. When I go to the cellar for a little flat can, she is the only cat who gets so excited that she has to sharpen her claws. 21 September 1994 The garden-clearing has reached the tomato patch, and purslane has become less common than bindweed and mallow. I didn't move the winter onions, but I did dig up every other clump and dump it on the edge of the compost heap. So far, the discarded onions don't seem to have noticed that they have been mistreated -- I may have two onion patches next year. Something odd happened today. In midafternoon the UPS truck brought a package from Carmel, Indiana. Thought it had to be a mistake, but my name was spelled right, so I opened it. Contained an enormous cookie with a spiderweb pattern in white icing, and a note saying "We are experimenting with packaging and shipping cookiegrams. Please accept this gift and enjoy! We would appreciate a call to let us know the condition of the cookiegram upon arrival. Call Dan Jarvis, 1-800-447-1233." I called the number -- Dan wasn't in, but somebody took the message -- but I was afraid to eat the cookie until Dave came home and cut pit a wedge. It was a trifle dried-out on the edge. Do you think I should call Dan back and tell him? I didn't think to ask where they got my address. Since I'd just finished the *W*riter's *E*xchange *B*ulletin, and the cookie had a web on it, I thought they might have the N3F mem list -- but then I remembered that the next holiday is Halloween. Dave hasn't found his spare antenna cable yet, possibly because preparations for Saturday's parade have been taking a lot of his time. After using my light yesterday, I put the battery and its charger on the glove chest next to the charger for Dave's 2305 radio. Erica doesn't like having junk on her table. Did I mention that Dave is a second lieutenant now? He's still treasurer. I haven't sewn his new gold buttons on his uniform yet. 22 September 1994 I still haven't gotten around to re-labeling my ribbons. Maybe I should just leave the draft ribbon labeled "normal," since draft is the default. The draft ribbon got tossed a few days ago. Dave was using one of my programs, and got used to calling me each time it snagged, so he called me when the printer went bananas. I tried to advance the jammed cassette by turning the little knob, then said "your ribbon died." He said, "Ribbons don't die -- they just fade away." This one, alas, died. I find that annoying, since cassette ribbons are expensive and don't last very long. Just fished it out of the wastebasket to see what killed it. Found a frayed selvage snagged on the opening. I pulled it free, which frayed it even more. It works now, but would no doubt jam again when that spot got back to the window, so it's back in the basket. 23 September 1994 This morning I accidentally activated an icon when I meant to edit its properties, and realized that I can use a blank icon to open PC-Write the same way I'd have launched it from a DOS prompt. All these months I've been going through the directory when the back door was standing open! 24 September 1994 When you win Taipei, you get a fortune-cookie saying. One of them is "Bouncy ball is the source of all goodness and light." Voorheesville's convention is over, and Dave is upstairs exhausted. On both days, I came home soon after the parade. When one of the drum lines got to the firehouse, they ran back past the reviewing stand and re-joined at the tail. Dave speculated that they'd promised their escort to two different fire companies. A lot of revolutionary-war costumes on the musicians -- I suspect that some of those broadcloth breeches were supposed to be leather. Also a good bit of WWII influence -- one corps was actually wearing helmets. The Yankee Doodle Band Post 461, I think. The mock rifles gave me SF ideas about some far-future being wondering about the odd shape of parade batons. Does the shape of a drum major's baton mean something? Many of the flagstaffs definitely suggested spears. On the way back to my car, I considered asking the fireman walking ahead of me whether Colonie's little bitty engine was a brush truck (or, more accurately, a brush jeep.) The only part of Colonie I ever visit is one of the most congested areas in the Capital District, so I hadn't thought about Colonie needing a brush truck. But I wasn't sure he was from Colonie, and hesitated until he climbed into a Colonie truck. That removed all doubt, but also made casual queries impossible -- he had climbed a ladder to get into the cab. Which is a long-winded way of saying that the trucks parked on both sides of the road all the way from the firehouse to Atlas Copco were only obstacles to circumnavigate, until, while driving home, I noticed the little brush truck looking forlorn in a large gap because all the other Colonie vehicles had left. Somehow that reminded me of the parade annoucer remarking that one of the trucks had cost half a million dollars. Most fire trucks have only five digits in the price, and many had been taken home, but there were still millions of dollars worth of apparatus parked along the road completely unattended -- and perfectly safe. 26 September 1994 Arachne The Hands of Lyr, Andre Norton, 1994, Avon. One night when I was too tired to go to bed, I spent two hours reading an old issue of Ellery Queen that hadn't impressed me much the first time. Then on the way up the stairs, I said, "Hey! Haven't I got a book started?" That says more about the way I've been organized lately than about Lyr. Norton seems to have mastered her mannerisms -- "such"es and "so"s and gratuitous "what was"es were far between, and I probably wouldn't have noticed them at all had I not been sensitized by stories in which she seemed incapable of getting through a paragraph without saying either "such" or "so," and every noun had to be labeled "what was." The storytelling gift didn't depart with the mannerisms; she held me spellbound throughout even though I knew very well how it would come out, and the plot was nothing but a treasure hunt. I didn't even fret much over the question "If it's all that easy, why didn't Lyr dispose of the evil wizard centuries sooner?" I was gratified to find the book devoid of the hatred for humans that tainted such books as *Iron Cage* during her "aware" period. @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ 1 October 1994 Poor Dave! He got up at 5:00 to go golfing today, and over pizza tonight, he confided that he was so tired that he planned to go straight to bed as soon as he printed out a score sheet for tomorrow's clay pigeon shoot. He settled down to the computer, and I went to the cellar to rinse and hang up some denim I left soaking yesterday. After I hung up the denim, I came up the stairs intending to ask "Did I hear someone say '2320' on the scanner?" and found the chair empty, the screen saver timed out, and his car gone. Just heard someone say that everybody was to return to quarters -- but from the Clarksville School, which isn't New Salem territory. 2501 just called all officers back in service. That's Onesquethaw, I think, and Clarksville is theirs -- I think. I've been to Clarksville today. My first chore of the day was to measure the flower box in front of the meeting hall and buy some tulp bulbs. Mailed a letter along the way, and noticed a poster for the craft fair at the elementary school, and went hoping to find one of those cap-collection display sticks everyone was making last year. The only stick in the fair, alas, was displaying painted caps. I think one of the necklace stands was at last week's convention. There was a table of real, if unimaginative, crochet, and some good woodwork, but the majority were buy-something-and-paint-it "crafts." The pizza was uninspired and the nachos were horrid. Got some pocket protectors and a non-reproducing highlighter at the stationers in Delmar -- I went to Delmar first, thinking the fair was at the Bethlehem High School. 2 October 1994 Dave said that the alarm at the Clarksville school was set off by a water heater venting steam. They automatically send two companies to a school. Then about 23:35 that night, when I was finally drifting off and Dave, who had made good on his threat to go to bed as soon as he printed out the score sheets, was downright comatose, the pager went off -- and when it's in the charger, the pager assumes that it has to wake the dead. Lawson's house was filled with smoke. Turned out to be a trivial fault in the furnace -- and am I ever glad we turned ours on for a while earlier in the fall, to see whether it was going to do something like that. I heard 2305 calling back in service ("in service" means available, not busy), but it didn't sound the least bit like Dave. I suppose that the portable radios have less fidelity than those in the trucks. I was puzzled while Dave was groping around for his clothes. I didn't hear the "portable" on "2351" and wondered why the warming bus was responding to a smoke condition in the house next door to the meeting hall. When they re-organized the radio calls, they forgot to provide for the fire police, who are the only guys who need radios to function at all. They tried putting fire police in "miscellaneous," but there are only ten misc. numbers for each company, so now they use the nn5n codes twice by adding "portable" to the fire police, to indicate that it is a person and not a vehicle. The shoot went well, though half as many people showed up as signed up. We were particularly puzzled by the absence of Jimmy, who only yesterday had been heard talking about the shoot. After the contest was over (as far as I know, they are still breaking ceramic frisbees just for fun) Jimmy and Robyn turned up & said that someone had an emergency with his well, and Jimmy had to pull out a gadget that had been installed in a well that won't be used for a while and repair it. It's Sunday, and I don't suppose that you could pick up whatever it was at Builder's Square anyway. I left early -- and left my purse behind Sandy's sofa. I hope Dave notices so that I won't have to go back. Unfortunately, it's black, and there is nothing distinctive about it. Pity I didn't leave my white scarf draped over it. But the wind came up and I put the scarf back on. On Friday, I bought the canned goods for Sandy's chili, and after golf and before pizza yesterday, Dave went to three different supermarkets to buy prizes, rolls, chips, etc. He came home saying that he hadn't known how much work Fred did. The turkey Dave bought is back in our freezer. I didn't ask which prize it represented. Not first, since there was a goose, nor last, since there were prizes smaller than the game hen. I was hoping that he'd win the ham. Dave is home, and hadn't noticed the purse, so I went back. Sandy was out buying cigarettes, but the glass door was still unlocked, so I reached in and got it. The turkey was fifth prize. Pretty good for somebody who hasn't shot since last year's shoot. 5 October 1994 Sigh. The laundry pump is clogged again, and I just can't plunge with one hand, especially when I have to reach out and over. If we can't have a drain that works, can't we have one that can be plunged with both hands on the same plunger? Dave cleaned his shotgun and rifle last night, and put them away until next October. An innocent new member is trying to stir up schism over the MHW's name again. I'm sitting this one out -- which offends the new member, who thinks I should be helping her split the club. Makes me feel queer to write about what is going to go on at this time next year when there's a chance that next October there will be no MHW and someone else will be editing the Bikeabout. Ah, well, the club has survived twice before. On the other hand, John Grasso's death took a lot of the starch out of us; he was in charge of everything worth doing except organizing rides. I was hoping to hang out the white stuff that I put on to soak last night before starting to can tomatoes, but the final rinse will have to wait until Dave comes home for lunch and can help me plunge the laundry sinks. Time to plant garlic, too. I planted tulips in the flowerbox in front of the firehouse Monday, and Tuesday was all getting out the mail. Right after breakfast, I took the newsletters inviting people to the Length of Service Awards Program (LoSAP) Information Meeting to the post office, my first experience in bulk mailing. Then I came home and stamped all the postcards telling NSVFD that they are meeting on Tuesday instead of Wednesday next week, because the meeting hall is being used for the LoSAP meeting at their usual time. Then I polished a two-page reply to our new member's latest letter, which she will no doubt resent, so I don't plan to waste any more time writing to her. While I was re-writing, Dave came home and I fed him lunch. After I packaged the letter with a copy of "How to Edit Your Club's Newsletter," I suited up and took it and the post cards to the post office by bicycle. I must remember that one copy of HtEYC, a cover letter, and an envelope weigh five-and-a-fraction ounces; my postal scale goes only to four, and I keep forgetting what I paid the last time and having to have it weighed again. And I've really got to get on the bike more often; my tights were noticeably tighter than they were the last time I wore them. 6 October 1994 Newspaper says that they spent ten million dollars re-aligning Rapp Road in order to provide people on Western with a way to get at the Northway on-ramp in Crossgates Mall. Makes no sense to me; if you are westbound, you pass another on-ramp first, and if you are eastbound, the lane you are in will, in a couple of blocks, peel off and become an on-ramp without making a left turn onto Rapp and winding around inside Crossgates first. People on Johnstown will find it more convenient to keep straight than to turn right into the lane destined to peel off into an on-ramp -- maybe -- but there isn't a tremendous flow off Johnstown onto Western, and the majority of those folks aren't headed for the Northway. But who cares how much it costs when Pyramid is paying the bill? Rapp as it was was a nearly car-free bike route to the bookstore -- I wonder whether the old entrance will be left open under another name? I hope the ten million included paved shoulders. The ground is pure sand though there, so you can't use a road bike on the foot path -- if there is a foot path. 7 October 1994 There was no fun at all in yesterday's MHW meeting. But by the first of the year it will be over one way or the other. Even Jackie, who started the second brouhaha on purpose, agrees that it should be settled as quickly as possible. I was surprised, though, at how many of the members ride tandems. It could be, of course, that every tandem couple in the club was there. (The program was the adventures of a couple who recently took up tandeming, and love it.) Pity I didn't think to count attendance. More than twenty, I think, and we've never had more than fifty. Out of a thousand members, twenty-to-fifty could easily have been a skewed sample. My order from Johnny's arrived today, and I planted New York White garlic and Elephant garlic. Both went into one row shorter than the two rows of wild garlic, but planting the tame garlic was more work, if you don't count the initial measurements. I'm changing the shape of the garden, a belated response to the loss of one tree and the growth of another. After dithering for a long time as to which way was north, I eyeballed an arbitrary straight line through a post in the garden, and now I'm making all measurements from there. I'm eyeballing the right angles too. If it looks square, it's square enough, as long as I work from the middle out. The New York garlic wasn't much extra work, except for making two more passes with the furrower than I made for the wild garlic. But the Elephant garlic has to be planted six inches deep in this climate -- shallow planting probably accounts for the disappearance of my first culture of Elephant garlic. I'm sure my cultivator would accept a plow blade capable of making a six-inch furrow, but I haven't got a plow blade. That meant digging individual holes in the furrow with a trowel, and my soil is nice and soft from the continual addition of leaf mold only as far down as the cultivator reaches. For digging six-inch holes, a trowel is too dainty, and a spade is too big. If I decide to keep seed from this planting, I'm going to have to prospect around at Robinson's, Olsen's, and Price Greenleaf for a bulb planter that works in gravel. Or maybe a plow blade I can bolt to the spare spike for my cultivator. I thought I was ordering just a start, a sample to play with, but three bulbs are a Whole Bunch of cloves, and I bought three bulbs of each garlic. We'll have some happy Italians next August. Which reminds me that it's past time to put this year's harvest into a bag for Dave to take to the firehouse. Dave refuses to eat fresh garlic, and I seldom cook anything I don't mean to share with him, but some of the boys think wild garlic is just wonderful, so I can get rid of the surplus. This year's crop was in the ground until some of the tops rotted, so it isn't very presentable and isn't going to keep very long. The instructions with the garlic say that you should pull garlic seven to ten days before it is fully ripe, to keep the skins white and tight so it will keep longer. More than half of this year's bulbs are falling apart, so I'm going do that next year -- if I'm here, and if it isn't raining. The percentage of collapsing bulbs in those I mean to bag up is less, because I picked those for planting after I'd used up the small round bulbs. The loose cloves are fatter than the others, and should make bigger bulbs. 8 October 1994 Turned out that all the garlic fits into the box that the seed garlic came in. Haven't persuaded Dave to take it to the firehouse yet, even though I saved out the most-presentable bulbs and put them on top. Maybe it would help if I printed out a "free" sign. I started out to do that yesterday, but noticed that my *.PUB files needed purging, and by the time I deleted the trash, I'd forgotten that I was looking for FREE.PUB. I should just make up a new file, print it out, and close it without saving. An Oppenheimer's Ladies' Book came today, and I was disappointed to see that they no longer offer a discount on twenty yards or more of osnaburg. But perhaps they will have another "curtain special" by the time I've used this roll up. Didn't see anything interesting in the new stuff -- didn't even notice which items were new. I bought pleater tape -- not the right kind, but I can ignore every other pocket -- at Jo-Ann's on my way to the MHW meeting, and now have it soaking in the washer. So I should soon get on with the curtains for the bay window, and after that I'll make three panels for this room and put the ones I'm using here into the living room. I have a double traverse rod over the bay window because I originally intended to have glass curtains. I was much struck by the dainty civilizedness of sheer curtains behind the drapes, but soon discovered that glass curtains make sense only in cities. I intend to take advantage of the mistake by moving the skimpy black curtains to the inner rod, to serve as a liner for the new curtains. I hope I bought the correct length of tape. I think I should have rounded nine and two-thirds up to nine and three-quarters. I'm making eight panels; the curtains need to cover the entire end wall. The first time I made drapes, I made the mistake of making each curtain all in one piece, and it was impossible to wash them. Now I join them by making a pleat half from one panel and half from the next; it doesn't show at all, and they separate into convenient pieces. Also provides places where the cats can push through to get off the window seat. 10 October 1994 I woke up to a beautiful rainbow this morning. The "mountain" was kind of blah, since the trees that have turned are a washed-out yellow that isn't sure it isn't brown, and the mist hadn't burned off yet, but it made a good backdrop for the windbreak between our place and Woodwind Drive, which is still brilliant green except for trees which have turned bright red -- mostly sumac, from that window, and one red tree as tall as the smoking-class oak. I don't recall seeing any maples back there, but it's on Lawrence's side of the line, so I wouldn't prowl past it very often. Then I came downstairs and realized that we used to be able to see the escarpment from the picture window; that was the main reason I've been so energetic about trimming all the lower limbs off the locust trees. 11 October 1994 The rainbow was also bad news; it was the result of recent rain, and I had forgotten the pleater tape and left it on the line all night. It doesn't seem to have been damaged, and it was already dry again when I took it down. So today (tada!) I'm finally going to make the bay-window curtains. I already have the fabric shrunk and cut into panels. The kitchen is clogged with aftermath de turkey. Dave got yesterday off for Columbus Day & we spent it cooking and eating his prize from the shoot. Sometime Real Soon now I'm going to have to bone out the bird and get that roaster out of the fridge. I promised Dave turkey sandwiches for lunch. Also have to get the November Bikeabout done by Friday, and haven't much to work with. No pres. mess., and Jackie called up to cancel the minutes because they weren't "complete" without a letter that was read at the meeting, but isn't scheduled for publication until December. Poor Jackie has been brainwashed into the belief that putting "wo" in front of "men" is like putting "welsh" in front of "rabbit" -- self-evident truths do not apply to females. Caught her smiling during the social hour. I think it's the first time I've seen that expression on her face. Time to start work on December's editorial. This weekend Dave changed back to VGA, saying that the screen controller we'd been using was slowing up the machine. Since Publisher at the best of times works so slow that I often think the computer has hung up, I agreed heartily. About the only displays improved by the higher resolution were the color-animated modules of After Dark, and all we ever use is "fade away" and sometimes "messages." Come to think of it, we could deactivate After Dark and turn the DOS screen saver back on, and wouldn't notice much difference. The icons on the Desktop and most of the other pictures in programs that came with the machine got bigger, so I find that I'm playing Solitaire, Cruel, Minesweeper, and Taipei again. Not Tetris; it's a good game, but it's a test of alertness & when I'm alert I have better things to do. I can see cops carrying Tetris games in their squad cars: "OK, buddy, you didn't score one point -- pull over and take a nap." But you'd need a control more intuitive than pushing up-arrow to rotate clockwise to make it fair. Haven't started work on the drapes yet -- decided to glance at the Bikeabout first -- but this morning I walked out back to look at the red tree. It is a maple, it's not quite as tall as the oak tree that used to shelter Voorheesville High's required course in smoking, and you'd need a surveyor to tell whether it's on Lawrence's side of the line or ours. Which would be a waste of money; it's also on the other side of the stone wall that separates our property from that of the people who live on Woodwind. I was surprised at how far the fence row (which I sometimes call a "windbreak") has encroached on the field. I found it difficult to push into the brush far enough to see the wall -- and I only presume that what I saw was a stone wall. I'm sure that when we bought the field, the ruins of the wall were plainly visible between the trees while I was standing well back from the brush. 12 October 1994 What a struggle! Having sewn tape to one panel, I thought I'd put the hooks in, hang it up, and check the length before proceeding further. Inserting five four-tine hooks was the hardest work I've done all week! The tape resists folding exactly where it has to fold, and the pockets are so loosely woven that pushing the balls on the prongs of the hooks through the sides of the pocket is much, much easier than persuading the prongs to go where they are supposed to. I heard the five-O'clock siren while I was struggling, and it was nearly six when I finished. When I saw how much the tape cost, I consoled myself that pleater tape lasts longer than curtains, and I could use it again. This cheaply-made stuff is going to be lucky if it lasts until I get the curtains hung up the first time! I hate to think how tough the job would be if I didn't have plenty of old hooks that have balls on the ends of the prongs. The new hooks are made cheaper. One of the two fabric shops in Northway Mall is closing down. The clearance sale didn't look any different from the "sale" they were always holding. One customer, perhaps one not familiar with the "So Fro" chain, was aghast that they were calling six or seven dollars a yard for cotton flannel a bargain. I'm not going to miss So Fro, but Jo-Ann's isn't much different. Except that Jo-Ann's did have pleater tape -- of a sort. Time to resume collecting mail-order catalogs. I wonder whether I could have got tape from Clotilde? Wouldn't have taken as long as waiting until I was going to Colonie. I'll be thoroughly got if it turns out that Beyond the Tollgate carrys curtain-making supplies. The proprietor never buys anything she wouldn't use herself. You might buy something not suitable there, but never anything useless. For a hermit, I have a lot of little squares on my electric calendar. I just came back from an "information meeting" at the firehouse, and I've got an MHW Board meeting next Monday, poets on Thursday, a ham class the following Saturday and Sunday, and a tentative invitation to spend the week after Thanksgiving at Woods Hole. Karen Jacobs is taking a science-writing course and wants someone to keep her company on the long drive. Since the invitation included my bike & Woods hole is near Cape Cod, I'm seriously considering it. 14 October 1994 We got our first frost the day before yesterday, and this morning makes three in a row. Yesterday I turned the furnace down before lighting a fire in the fireplace, then had to let the fire go out because the damper keeps closing itself and it was getting rather wearing to keep one ear cocked for the kwhmp, not to mention that I knocked the smoke detector off the wall while flapping the hall rug at it. So it was a mite frosty inside this morning. I turned the furnace on and ironed two shirts while waiting for it to get fit for sit-down work. By some miracle, I properly filed the whole-page filler I killed last month for the unexpected ad, so I've got six of the twelve pages finished. It felt strange to run off to the printshop with plenty of time to put my drafting board away. I even went back into the house, when I realized that I was hungry, and put some crackers and a cut-up apple into sandwich bags. I went to 20-Mall afterward, but didn't find anything on my list except for milk, eggs, etc. at Star. Got home in time for supper, but Dave wasn't here, so I didn't make any. Erica is easier to lure into the house when it's frosty out. She's been known to think twice before dashing into the cold in her thinning fur, too. She still goes, but she thinks about it first. Seem to be more fights with Rascal, perhaps because both of them are staying closer to home. According to yesterday's Enterprise, which came in today's mail, someone stole a halloween decoration from in front of Crafts and Fabrics Beyond the Tollgate. 16 October 1994 Yesterday evening I went through the needle catalogs looking for persian wool to make new gloves, even though I realized before getting them out that I've got a skein or two stashed away in the closet. Clotilde, voluminous though she be -- not a lot more pages than the average, but they aren't diluted with "kits" and "projects" -- has no curtain-making supplies. My last order from Craft Galleries was Medici wool in 1990, and, judging by the yellowing of the spine, they have (quite sensibly) not sent me a new catalog since. Why *won't* mail-order firms *date* their catalogs? Found that they have Paternayan persian in four-ounce skeins, which will be what I want if there aren't enough one-ounce skeins stashed away. I weighed one of my mitten-liners, and it was a hair more than an ounce, but I knitted a strand of heavy nylon thread into the palms and fingers. On the other hand, I intend to make the wrist on dress gloves longer. Paternayan also comes in one-ounce skeins and 1 3/4-yd. "strands." DMC persian comes only in 5.4-yd. skeins and four-ounce hanks. I've still got most of the Medici. An ounce of Medici is a *lot* of darning wool, and I haven't been wearing my tights out as fast as I used to. Not to mention that I use Medici only for repairing machine-knit tights, which are more likely to be patched or discarded than to be darned. Dave's fortune cookie read "now is a good time to finish old jobs" and he came home and cleaned Harold's golf clubs so he could give them back. I hope mine is as accurate: "You are heading for a land of sunshine." When I opened it I startled Dave by exclaiming "*Cape Cod* in NOVEMBER?" And half of the week is in December. The trip to Woods Hole is definitely on, but we don't know some of the details, such as are we leaving on Saturday or Sunday. Dave checked his calendar, and I will be back before R&P's Christmas party at the Bavarian Chalet. Found that I had *five* one-ounce skeins of black Paternayan persian stashed away. I must have found a pretty good sale -- or maybe I was tearing a lot of holes in my tights that week. (I use a single strand of persian to darn hand-knit cycling clothes.) I separated one skein into its component strands, making a terrible mess of the job -- you'd think I'd never pulled a pull skein before. But it's separated, at the risk of attracting a neighbor's cat to the wool dangling out of a second-story window, and wound into six little balls. I was annoyed to find a knot in the skein; I thought, until I'd gotten it untied, that my clumsiness in unwinding was responsible. A bit of a shock when the knot separated: I thought I'd broken the yarn. I put the bag of yarn and my roll of sock needles into my MHW bag and mean to knit a swatch at the board meeting tomorrow; a pair of gloves is just the right size to carry around to work on in odd moments. I've got a whole shoebox full of booties and little crocheted bags, and crocheting too long makes my hands hurt. Got the draperies hemmed tonight; now "all" I have to do is to press them and wrestle the hooks into the pockets and hang them up. I left two orange-wood sticks and all of Dave's golf tees -- there were several in the golf bag -- in pockets in the hope of rendering them more co-operative. I ran a search for "bag" and find that I didn't mention that I bought a golf bag for $1 at a garage sale the last time I rode my bike. Which was quite a while ago. Friday, I think it was, the mail included a "Scottish Lion" catalog. Has anybody even suspected Scots in the background of either family? Fascinating all the same -- particularly since a piper serenaded someone at a front table when we were almost ready to leave the Gold Coin. I was peering around the wall of the booth, guestimating the price of his outfit. (Five or six hundred dollars for the skirt alone.) A bagpipe should never be played indoors, except maybe in the Purdue Fieldhouse. I see why it was a war instrument -- when the piper started tuning up, I thought a whole band had marched into the place. 17 October 1994 Sigh. I was a couple of inches short of enough tape, so I cleverly spaced two patches of four pockets an interpleat apart. Then when I went to put the hooks in, I realized that one uses only every other pocket; I needed two groups of *seven* spaced an interpleat apart. I got the panels ironed, and put the end hooks into two panels, then I decided to drape them neatly over the ironing board and try again tomorrow. I seriously wish I'd looked at the tape and said "I can't buy what I need, so I can't make my curtains." After which I went to Delmar to pick up Erica's pills, since she took the last pill of the previous batch this morning. Afterward I went to Delaware Plaza because I hadn't been there in years. Woolworth's is still there, but otherwise there is nothing I can't get in more-convenient places. I didn't go into Friar Tuck's Bookstore. Stopped at Beyond the Tollgate on the way back to ask her to recommend something to make pants to wear to Woods Hole, but they are closed on Monday. There was a ghost ornament on the lawn, but I couldn't remember the picture in the Enterprise well enough to see whether it was the stolen placard. Beep beep of the calendar says it is time to head for Border's Bookshop. I'm taking my gift certificate and intend to arrive a bit before the meeting. 18 October 1994 Hurriedly purchased a copy of Wahrig Deutches W”rterbuch before the meeting, then on the way out, I noticed a book on shirtmaking that would have been much easier to find shelf-room for. I'd have come closer to getting it for the value of the certificate, too. I could put Wahrig on the fore-edge on the shelf with the bilingual dictionaries, and find another spot for the 38th-edition Rubber Bible. Squeezed Wahrig" onto the shelf of tall books, but have Shipley's Dictionary of Word Origins left over. I could replace everything on my list of things to do with "Decrement Entropy." 19 October 1994 We picked the little melon off Dave's vine before the first frost, and today we got up the nerve to open it. Much to our surprise, there was melon meat inside. Not quite ripe, but edible. We had it for breakfast. Dave says he's going to give up raising melons. 20 October 1994 According to the book I'm reading for this weekend's ham class, one can learn everything needed to pass the Novice written exam in twenty days, and everything needed for the Technician written exam in another twenty days. One must pass both to get the No-Code license. I have a feeling that I'm not going to get anything *else* done this Saturday and Sunday. Mowed up some of the leaves on the front lawn today, and started knitting a shawl for the sofa. Started my gloves the day before -- I don't remember persian wool being that *thin*. They are a good size to carry around, but I can't work on them in fashionable light. Shoved the drape-laden ironing board into the spare room so that we could use the bedroom. I keep finding things that have to be done before I start wrestling with that stupid tape. Went to Beyond the Tollgate on my way to buy gas for the mower yesterday, but the only fabric I liked the weight of was bright red. Well, there were some plaids too. I don't think I've been young enough for plaid slacks since Mom made my shorts out of chicken-feed sacks. There was some suiting, but I didn't like the colors, and it didn't look as though it would wear, so I didn't look to see whether it would wash. It's a mummy ornament that's missing; there's a wanted poster on the door. 23 October 1994 In two months or so, I'll get my call sign. I suppose now he'll want me to learn the code. After being innoculated with the oi bad habits of 5 wpm, I don't think I could re-learn it unless someone sent me regular quantities of information that I seriously wanted. I find SuperMorse boring. Sometime during the weekend, Dave went to Crossgates and replaced the cable I dug up. I finished mowing the front lawn before classes started. 24 October 1994 Now I'm picking up -- bills to pay, a bunch of stuff given me at the Board meeting for the Bikeabout, incoming mail, a pile of Banners that I sealed and never stamped. I was amazed, Sunday night, to look around and see that the kitchen was in reasonable shape even though I hadn't cleaned up in two days -- but I hadn't cooked in two days either; I'd dirtied two cereal bowls and left two of the muffin tins to soak. Found the third muffin tin in the plate cupboard. I doubled the recipe for muffins for the first time, and put in a third of a cup of sugar by mistake for a quarter -- and I shouldn't have put in any, since there was already a half cup of malt syrup to two cups of flour. I ate four muffins on Saturday and six on Sunday, but didn't get the trots until this morning. I remembered Big Macs as having more vegetables in them. I also remembered McDonald's as offering alternatives to hamburger -- the McGrilled chicken I ate on Sunday was indistinguishable from the beef I had on Saturday. This McDonald's was the only eating place in walking distance of a very large number of very large office buildings; you'd think there'd be some lunch-type stuff for people who aren't working hard enough to stomach a milkshake. Dave hadn't eaten yet when I got home Saturday, and we had our usual trip to Smitty's at an unusually crowded hour. When I looked into my purse, saying I'd best be sure I had $5.75 for my examination fee, he gave me a five-dollar bill and three quarters -- is this boy eager? I forgot to take my passport with me -- I was too tired to remember that I'd taken notes, let alone read them -- but it turned out that one picture ID was enough. I had told him that the exams didn't start until 6:00, so he got carry-out at the Gold Coin on Saturday. It was still warm when I got home, but I didn't eat much, having devoured two sugary muffins while waiting for my tests to be graded. Dave said that he'd had a "major disaster" while trying to open a soy-sauce packet with his teeth, and I found evidence while reading the Sunday paper, but he didn't get one tiny speck on his shirt. 25 October 1994 This morning a gust of wind brought leaves down off the locust tree so fast that I thought it had started raining. 27 October 1994 I've been working on the Bikeabout at least an hour since the minutes of the board meeting came in the mail. I copied them in, checked for grammos, and tediously reformatted, paragraph by paragraph, into Bikeabout's style. Then, like a durn fool, I decided that while I was in there I'd finish reformatting the President's Message. The electricity shut off for a moment and now I've got to do it all over. Why oh Why must Windows programs be so hostile to the idea of saving and making backups? Hmm. The grammar-checked version of the minutes might still be in Scratch.doc; I don't save the cut version until I'm sure that the transplant was successful, and I never left Publisher after moving the minutes. I do "quick-save" Word documents; Word isn't as inclined as Publisher to create clutter files, and anything important in Word gets copied to something else immediately, so there isn't as much fussing and fretting about getting rid of mysterious tmp.doc files. 31 October 1994 I never thought I'd have any use for the attachment that lets you put a multi-color ribbon in this printer, but right now I'd shore like the ability to print out some boxes in non-reproducing blue. I wonder why no printers have old-fashioned red-and-black ribbons? Perhaps because it's as easy to make four stripes as one. It's 6:33 by the clock -- 7:33 by my stomach--and I've got all the Bikeabout done except page nine and the front cover. And I've laid out the photo and caption for the cover. To lay out page nine, I've got to lay out three photographs of three sizes and shapes, type the captions -- and then convey those locations to the printer. Punching "blue" on the color menu would be easier than marking the corners, drawing the lines with a ruler, and then whiting out the marks. Hope I can calculate the scaling. I've been working on the Bikeabout all day, except for eating and running out for a pound of hamburger. I knitted a few rounds under Freida after getting back, and feel more alert now. 9:57 -- when I finished the Table of Contents, it exactly filled the space left for it. I'm going to recheck it in the morning when I'm smarter. Ticking the corners was harder than I expected, mainly because I wasn't smart enough to make the white octagons ten points wide so they'd cover easier. Shucks. I should have used "shade" and made the entire interiors white. Probably won't ever have to do that job again, even if this isn't my last Bikeabout. Darryl usually lays out the photos, but he has been away, and there was no time between November and December -- everybody made deadline for a change, so I'm going to press a week sooner than I expected. Twenty pages despite sparse contributions. The ballot accounts for one whole leaf, so I put the membership blank and the Entertainment Book coupon on the other end of the sheet to leave people an essentially-undamaged newsletter after tearing the ballot out. Then there were two pages of letters, even though only the screech-circlers got the word in time (save for Betty Lou, and she didn't mean for that post card to be printed), and I put in two pages of filler from Adventure Cycling. Also hogged two pages for the editorial, since it may be my swan song. Hope I don't have to do any more obituaries. They're tough even though I cribbed it all from a newspaper clipping; I didn't know Ettinger, though I must have typed the name many times before. It's harder than it looks to be properly respectful without parodying yourself. 1 November 1994 &%#@! My schedule *finally* allows me to get some much-needed exercise by delivering the Bikeabout by bike -- and the weather forecast says the steady rain will be interrupted only by thunder showers. Oh, well, I mean to go to Filene's to see whether they still have that silk mock-turtleneck they were advertising a couple of weeks ago, and a several-mile hike through Crossgates should take some of the blubber off. Not even a quarter past ten, and my shopping list is printed up and I'm bathed and dressed and ready to go. Also hungry. My stomach says it's eleven. Found two errors in the T.o.C. which no-one would have noticed, printed the first page, pasted in the nameplate, and even put the drafting board back into the closet. Forgot to take the trash out, but I wouldn't have left the newspapers in the rain anyway, and nothing else is clogging up. Curious incident on the road: When I was approaching 155, I saw a light-blue car with an odd-looking front in my rear view mirror, and was reminded of the Hudson. Which struck me as strange, because I can remember only two things about the Hudson: it had a fold-down armrest in the back seat that was just the right size to make a niche for me to sit in, and it was so low-slung that the woman we asked for directions on the way to Uncle Bur's said "Yo' ain't nevah gonna make it in that cah!" When the odd car took the stoplight at 155, Voorheesville Avenue, and Johnston Road as an opportunity to get one place ahead in line, I noticed by his license-plate frame that it was a lovingly-restored 1966 Mustang, and thought that the driver would have been annoyed that it reminded me of a late-forties Hudson, had he known. Then I saw those license-plate frames for sale at Crossgates, and on the way home, I pulled up to the stoplight where I turn off Western onto 155, and the car in front of me was that same guy! He was headed for New Salem when I turned into our driveway. I suppose I'll be seeing him all over now. The trip to Crossgates was a disappointment. I was hungry when I left, and by the time I dropped off the Bikeabout and drove to Crossgates, I was fairly desperate. The old part runs from Penny's to Caldor, the new part is tacked on where the exit in front of Caldor used to be, and there is a grand new entrance right under the Food Court, which sports a glorious glassed-in extension over and continuing the new entrance. I headed for my customary parking spot near the old entrance, but the new traffic patterns shunted me past it, apparently in a desperate effort to call my attention to the new stores. I ignored the doors into the new part and hiked back to the entrance under the Food Court -- I needed something to eat, and I needed it *now*. The new entrance is still under construction. No sweat, there's a less-impressive entrance around the corner -- with a yellow tape across it. But there's a door standing open across the bay -- leading into a cavernous gutted space. I passed the other side of that store later, and I could have gotten in that way, had I had the chutspah to enter. And so on -- I'd hiked all the way to Penney's before I gained entrance. Well, I passed the entrance to the Crossgates substation of the Guilderland Police just before that entrance, but by then I was in a mood that made it hazardous to confront armed personnel. And when I finally opened a door, I was greeted by paint-and-glue fumes. I stopped smelling them pretty soon, but could feel them on my eyes the whole time I was in there. Not to mention that the "music" in the hallway is designed to drive you into the stores. So I hiked that end without shopping and didn't have the strength to take a second lap. By the time I finally made it to the food court, I was too upset to eat, but bought a plate of chicken teriaki with mixed vegetables and steamed rice anyhow. Little Tokyo is a good place to eat; they cook the vegetables after you order them. But if I eat there again, I'll ask them to hold the gravy. Filene's was at the far end of the new section, of course. I did find the silk mock turtles, and they are a good, heavy fabric that really is worth forty dollars, but it's the kind of mock turtle you put on when you are cold, and I wanted silk to show off my pearls. Then the fun came again as I tried to find a functioning door to escape by. They really ought not to hold a Grand Opening without opening! All in all, I don't think I'll mind that they have eliminated all the bike racks; I didn't see any sign that I can get any of the things on my shopping list there. I did see my Faberware saucepan at Filene's, but I'm not in enough of a rush to buy it at a store that pays that kind of rent. I can stop by Lechmere's on the way to the Wheelman meeting next Thursday. Brief pause to take my muffins out of the oven. Last time I wondered why they stuck to the nice new pan and popped right out of the battered old pans. This time I got the message: the new pan is black, and browns them before they are quite done. Letter from Ronni Stern in this evening's mail; she says that all thirteen of us passed (there were fourteen, but John didn't take the test.) I distinctly remember commiserating with Shirleen because she *almost* passed. Perhaps they gave the tests again that night; I think Shirleen was still there when I left. Egad, and she had to drive to Schenectady afterward. I just barely made it home, and the work was a lot easier for me than for her, thanks to Mr. Sidebottom and Dr. Kolitschew. 2 November 1994 Grump. I worked real hard and pinned two more panels, making a grand total of three -- and now I see that I'm going to have to pull all the pins out and do it over with three interpockets to the pleat instead of two. Oh, well, this way I'll fold between two pockets instead of through one, which should be much, much easier, and there won't be as many pleats to the panel. 4 November 1994 Got two more panels pinned yesterday. Meant to do the whole north end of the drapes, but getting my teeth cleaned and buying groceries pretty much occupied the morning, and then I took a nap so that I wouldn't be stopped for drunk driving on the way home from the meeting, which should have left enough time to do four panels, but it wasn't. Everything went without snags -- I even found a hole in the stream of traffic waiting for me when it was time to turn left off Central Avenue -- and I got to the meeting a half hour early. Found a new advantage to my square-of-quilt knitting bag. One can put two handles over each wrist, and knit under a street light! When Trudy showed up, she took the group -- which included two people who wanted membership blanks -- around to the back to show us the door that's always open. Excellent meeting, despite a downright embarrassing turnout. I should have written a more-seductive headline. We didn't even have any officers except the secretary, who complained that she thought that the job consisted only of taking notes! But it turned out that the only business was a Safety-Committee report that she decided not to take notes on because it would be history long before they could be printed, so she turned the meeting over to the program chairman -- who did show -- and said "that wasn't so bad." We had about as many government officials as members. They told us what is going on, and what we need to do to keep the bicycle money from being spent on anti-bicycle projects. They pointed out that most bicycle improvements are in the pothole-patching class of expense, and you can get them if you get organized and ask nicely. 5 November 1994 Dave brought home Word 6.0. While fooling around with it, I punched "paste special" just to see what would happen, and got a chunk of a letter I'd been writing just before opening Word. A little further fooling around showed me that if I press "print screen" while using PC-Write, the screen gets copied onto the Windows clipboard. I may think up a use for that. 6 November 1994 Finally persuaded the glue-on copy holder to stick to the monitor -- and now I'd like to get it off and throw it away -- as in hurl with force. It adamantly refuses to hold copy where I can see it, because it wants to tip backward. Maybe if I stick some round toothpicks into the joint . . . It's semi-functioning again. Guess I don't need to decide whether or not to switch to Word 6 -- after fooling around with it for an hour or so, I tried to compare the document to the Word 2 version -- and it came up in Word 6. I guess Dave replaced the old version when he installed the new one. Near as I can make out, Word still won't untranspose letters for you, but it will automatically change "recieve" to "receive," and correct several other specific words -- I gather that you can add your favorite mistakes, or at least substitute them for the defaults. The marvelous new "auto Text" looks like a fair substitute for PC-Write's Shorthand Mode. And Word 6 occupies only nine 3 1/2" disks, when PC-Write occupies three 5 1/4" disks. I'd like to know where Word 6 got that plethora of styles that I had to delete one at a time. Most of them had *never* been used in Word 2, but only in Publisher. It is also still infested with undeletable styles -- not less than nine levels of headings, for example. And a new one called "default paragraph style," which appears to do nothing. Luckily, I don't need to use the list of styles very often, since I use Word only for grammar-checking stuff I'm about to import into Publisher. Oh, yes, you don't have to go through menus to insert quotation marks any more. That will be a great relief. The new Word converts typewriter quotes to printers' quotes automatically. Unlike Publisher, though, it won't leave previously-typed straight quotes alone -- I may have to disable AutoCorrect. I've got all the panels hanging, at last, but I have to re-pin three panels, and the panels aren't connected yet. I connected two by taking them down, re-pinning the two half pleats, and hanging them back up. I'm hoping that I won't have to do that for the other five joints -- hanging four connected panels isn't something I think I can do without help. I'm hoping that I'll be able to stand in the bay window and work on them from the back. At six, I was ready for bed. At eight, I feel quite alert. So I guess I'd better finish re-writing the Albany Service Corps brochure into a press release while my copy holder is still hanging together. I do wish the club members understood the difference between sending me a 12" x 16" envelope stuffed with paper and writing a press release. This guy is a professional, too -- I'll bet he didn't treat the Times-Union that way. He did send a copy of an article in the Gazette, but it's too long and doesn't address his purpose of enticing Wheelmen to come and help him with his Bike Team. You can say the same of the brochure I'm re-writing. Except that it wasn't written when he was trying to recruit fifty "disadvantaged" (I think that means "poor") post-teens by September 12. Guess he made it, since the program is still in operation. 7 November 1994 When I grammar-checked the brochure summary and the accompanying letter and deposition, I discovered that Word 6 has found a practical use for the color monitor. They are still displaying a picture of white paper on a yellow tablecloth, but they are also printing the "mistakes" the grammar-checker catches in red, while the rest of the type is black. Word 2 used a bold face that was hard to spot in the reduced type used for the checker's dialog window. I was almost never able to see it on punctuation marks that it tried to call to my attention, even when I was able to deduce which marks it meant. I added "--" to the autocorrect list, so that two hyphens change to a dash. One of the defaults changes "(r)" to the registered-trademark symbol, which, I have just discovered, is not among the resident characters in the Microline. My daisy wheel has one! Ah, well, if it has taken this long to find out, I don't need it much. Thought it was windy in the night -- this morning I found that five of the ten bags of leaves that I stole from the Abbots were no longer under the bay window, and two were in the front yard. I took the bags in the reverse of the order that Mrs. Abbot put them out for the trash, because I did not want to leave the display untidy. Good thing! The last (oldest) two were wet, and I could barely lift them; if I'd moved them first, I couldn't have carried the others. I had to stop for a rest with the light bags, a bit farther from the bay window each time. It was so foggy when I went for the paper yesterday that I heard a car and could not see it, until it turned into the Highway Department driveway and pointed its taillights at me. But there was a thinning in the direction of the Abbot's garbage, which inspired the theft. The high winds we had early in the week made mowing up the leaves easier, but left much less mulch to collect. So I wanted the Abbots' leaves even though she collects them with a rake, so they aren't as good as those that I collect with the mower. I started a separate pile for whole leaves behind the compost heap. It rained later in the day on Sunday, but it looks as though I'll be able to continue mowing today. A great many of the leaves I meant to collect are on the part of the lawn I've already mowed. They are sparse enough not to hurt the grass. Finished mowing the front yard today, and the winds have pretty much cleaned up the back yard, so I may let it go. Would like to cut the grass a fraction of an inch shorter before snowfall, though. Also emptied the three bags in the windbreak -- they had been driven into the underbrush with such force that I had to pull two of them out from the other side. I'd best mark my calendar to empty the rest tomorrow, or I'll forget about them. I cleared off everything on today's calendar! (Don't mention that yesterday evening I moved everything I thought I might not do to yesterday or tomorrow.) 8 November 1994 Started binding off my lap robe today. I wanted to knit one more round, to end on a pattern row and give a little more definition to the scallops on the edge, but I was afraid the yarn wouldn't reach that far. Project started to be an afghan. I think I'll buy some yarn and start one, after I finish my dress gloves. I find that knit-two-together bind off looks good on garter stitch. I didn't turn after the last round, but bound off in the same direction, so that there are two purl rounds at the edge. (I was on a back round when the yarn ran out.) Voted for Shultz today. I won't know how he did until the party newsletter comes out; the papers refer to elections as "races," but they report only win and place, never show. Went to the polls by bike, but by the time I finished at the library, I'd forgotten that I meant to come back the long way, so it wasn't much exercise. 9 November 1994 Found out after all: Dave found election returns on Compuserve. Shultz got less than a quarter of the votes he had hoped for. The Right to Life candidate got one percent. So much for the "benefits" of Howard Stern's "endorsement." Dave voted for Pataki, it being important to vote against Cuomo. I have seen no sign that Pataki will be a change. I bound off at just the right time. The yarn left was far from enough to knit another round. I'm going to buy more Addi Stricknadeln before I attempt an afghan on the same plan. It's a pain to knit from one needle to another when no two are the same length. And you can't squoosh the stitches together, because they fall off at the joints, so you need a lot more total length when it isn't all on one needle. The curves in my American needles are a nuisance when you are using them for sock needles. Especially the springy old steel-cable needle I bought at a thrift shop. It would probably be good for what it's meant for, because stitches pushed at one end spring off at the other. When I'm knitting an Addi with its own tail, the stitches have to be milked around the cable. The steel-cable needle may be a collector's item; they were the first to be introduced, and they are extremely fragile. The cable kinks easily and can't be straightened, and they tend to break at the joint between the cable and the tips. Today a fellow called Rush Limbaugh to complain that we desperately need welfare, because not everybody can get a college education and you can't get any sort of work without a degree. Reminded me of Roger. Roger hasn't got a grammar-school education. Roger can't read. Roger can't write. Roger can't count. Roger can't even talk, except to people who are expert in deciphering his impediment. Roger is not on welfare. The new building across the road is still standing around in its underwear, with plywood doors and plastic windows. Rumor has it that when it was time to install the doors and windows, they discovered that nobody was in charge of ordering them. I've *finally* got the drapes hung. Now I can start trying to remember how I meant to make the curtains. First step is to figure out how much cloth I need, cut it off the roll, baste the edges, and soak it overnight in the washer. 12 November 1994 After all these years, I've just now noticed that the flag on the mailbox logo I use to mark my mailing lists is on the wrong side. Haven't noticed any reversed lettering in icons. 13 November 1994 I think the literary term for this sequence is bathos. Yesterday, the NSVFD pumped nearly fifteen thousand gallons of water saving a barn full of horses. Earlier today they were called to stand by while Voorheesville and Delmar extricated a seriously-injured person from a smashed car. Just now the sheriff has summoned them to "a pot roast in the oven." The trailer-truck-shed-almost-barn fire was started by a burn barrel snuggled between the trailer and the truck. The smashup was on "the sharp curve on New Salem Road," which is amply, nay excessively, marked as dangerous. Anybody who smashes into a stationary object there either wasn't paying attention or was going like a scared bat. No doubt the latter, judging by the difficulty in getting the victim out. I don't know yet whether Dave responded. I didn't hear "2305," but I could have missed it, and I don't think anyone except 2301 had anything to say. The *only* door to the horse barn was on the side that was steaming -- good thing the boys weren't called a few minutes later. The aluminum on the trailer was melted off, and no doubt the contents of the file cabinets stored there were incinerated, but Dave thinks they were old records from a long-defunct business. The truck and the shed were totaled. Twenty-three zero one called the company back in service a while ago. I suppose it doesn't take long to blow the smoke out of a trailer and verify that it really was caused by an overdone roast. I'd expect the smell alone to demonstrate that. I just cut sixteen feet of osnaburg to make the last three curtains. Since it was a shade over five yards, I thought I'd use the six-yard section, which should leave about enough to make a radio cover, but I couldn't remember where I put it. It's not with the -- I think it's in the box of remnants marked "solids and woven-ins." Anyhow, I cut the curtains off the main bolt, which now has less than three yards left. While I was drawing the thread, Erica squeezed under the antique commode, which I put in front of the fireplace to keep the cats out. She immediately squeezed out again and walked across my cloth. I shook it as soon as I had it cut loose, and all the ashes seem to have shaken off. I planned to wash it before using it anyhow. So I'm on the home stretch, and can cut out a new pair of pants -- if I can persuade the blue denim to lie straight. 16 November 1994 I cut the denim without persuading it to lie straight. I may regret this. The newspaper report said that the driver who bounced off the rocks, telephone pole, and embankment on 85-A wasn't seriously injured, but the sheriff (at press time) was still listing charges. Dave said that the post roast was a chicken. The folks in the trailer weren't home, which is how the deputy and the fire department got involved. The deputy broke down the door to make sure nobody was home -- what a mess to come home to! No way to warn them of what they were going to find, either. 18 November 1994 The controversy over showing dirty movies in the schools is front-page news in the Enterprise again. (We get Thursday's paper on Friday.) A few days ago, Dave said that he couldn't understand why they showed movies in school in the first place. I said that it was to give the teacher a half hour off. Glancing at last week's Enterprise, he said "But these are real theater movies, they take two hours." Two hours off is even better, but I can't see why the movies have to be dirty to have the desired effect. Must not be any Free Methodists or other conservative Christians in the neighborhood, or, more likely, they have been cowed into keeping silent -- nobody has objected to showing theater movies, only to the teachers' insistence on picking erotic movies and "action" movies -- preferably movies which confuse the two. 19 November 1994 Had a chain reaction the last time I went to Stonewell. 22 November 1994 Bought a 150-watt bulb for the bedroom, then remembered discovering that the reason I hadn't been able to turn up the pat-patty-pat lamp was that it had a forty-watt bulb, installed the 100 that had been in the bedroom, then remembered that one of the five forties in the dining room was burned out. Which involved washing the glass shade. I think I'll get fifties for the chandelier from now on. 200 watts isn't quite enough. The pants are finished, look good, and pass the sit test -- so I'm not going to risk getting them dirty before the trip to Woods Hole. The off-grain cutting might show up when they are washed. When I saw Nancy's suitcase-style pillowcase last summer, I decided to buy some upholstery fabric and make one, and put it on the list of things to get done before July. Then last Sunday Karen called to tell me that we are expected to bring our own bed linen, and that they advise bringing our own pillows, because the dorm pillows are flat and hard. So I roodled around in the closet for some more of that green-and-brown cotton duck. Found four completely-intact curtains. Apparently, I didn't even wash them before putting them away -- there was a thumbtack stuck in one, where it had been anchored to the windowframe. I wish I'd known about that trove of pleater tape a few weeks ago! I also found a used zipper, just the right length, and just the right shade of brown, so the case is nearly finished; I had started pinning the zipper when Dave pitiably demanded that I turn out the glaring light over the bed. It's the one I put a 150-watt bulb in. The only light in the room is designed for reading in bed -- well, it was for feeling your way to bed; the fixture was designed for not more than sixty watts, well muffled by a frosted glass shade. The outer cases on the car pillows are also made of that duck. I'm thinking of making a case for the blanket I carry in the car -- might as well have a matched set. Don't appear to have any more zippers, though. I'm sure there's a whole wad stashed somewhere. The aspect of this trip that I'm looking forward to most is not having access to a mouse for a whole week. Maybe my neck will have a chance to heal if I stop irritating it. I hope the school's word processors aren't Mac. And that at least some are coin-op, so that you don't have to be a student to use them. I've half a notion to take "writing samples," as the students are required to do. Might be a good place to pick up customers for a ghost-writing service. I wonder what one should charge for, ah, "pre-editing." Of course, I had pinned the zipper wrong, and didn't notice until I'd put in two rows of 2.5 mm stitches. Luckily, I was using #40 thread, which is easier to rip out than #50 because it doesn't break as easily. Case all done -- looks a trifle rumpled, but it works. Should be room for my sheets, pillowcases, washrag, and towels between the two pillows. I hope we need bunk-size sheets, 'cuz that's what I'm taking. 25 November 1994 Most folks realize that "Conservatives" are really reactionaries. I think I've found the right word for "Liberals," who aren't even as liberal as the Conservatives are conservative. I was pondering a couple of "Liberal" columns that concluded that everyone who objects to nationalizing medicine hates Hillary, because personal hatred is the only imaginable motivation, and realized that the Liberals are Projectionists. Whatever a Liberal accuses Conservatives of, that's he feels himself. One of Quindlan's columns was a particularly fine example: she said it was promoting "otherness" and an "us and them" mentality to say that one of "them" might conceivably manage to live without relying exclusively on handouts, as one of "us" would be expected to do. Did you hear that Mary Tyler Moore offered to pay a thousand dollars for a pet lobster just for the pleasure of dumping the poor creature in the Atlantic? One can comprehend people who callously dump their responsibilities, but that someone would pay money to turn a domesticated animal loose for carnivores to munch on beggars the imagination. At least an elderly lobster is more likely to be eaten than to starve, and it won't hang around excursion boats pitiably begging for handouts and affection. 3 December 1994 Didn't find a chance to work Mary Tyler Moore's lobster into the conversation. I think Shannon would have approved of lobster-dumping. I suspect that she gets all her opinions from the fashion stream, and doesn't quite comprehend that when you pull a creature out of the water, the hole closes up. I had surprisingly little time for bike riding and writing; I took a few notes, but they are disjointed because every time I sat down in the computer room, somebody would tap on the window to say that something I didn't want to miss (lunch, for example) was about to start. I couldn't keep typing until the last minute, because the student-proof software made a prolonged hassle out of powering down; no wonder I now and then saw a computer left running in defiance of the posted rules. It took even longer to power up, because the computers are set to run a virus-detector every single time they are turned on -- this despite strict rules against booting from a floppy, using your own software, or writing anything on the hard drive. The computer instructor said that they got a virus last summer anyway. Call me KB2SLF. I wonder how long it will take me to memorize that? Cain't remember how to send "F" in Morse. dahdidah dahdididit dididahdahdah dididit didahdidit dididahdahdidit. 4 December 1994 Got around to taking my notes, such as they are, out of my purse. It's becoming increasingly difficult to resist the urge to play computer games, so I expect it's time to go to bed. 5 December 1994 Yeaaawn. One thing I really miss about Wood's Hole is sleeping until you are good and ready to get up. And we never slept late. I usually saw the light of dawn even though dawn is a trifle earlier there. On Saturday night, the fire company rode a crowded bus to the Knick Arena to see the Albany River Rats play the Providence Bruins. A good time was had by all -- except the Bruins, who lost 7-1. I was the only one who carries ear plugs, so I was the only one who heard anything. Which wasn't necessarily an advantage -- the cheers of the young girls behind us struck the others only as loud; I was able to notice that they were also inane. 5 December 1994 I must remember to go to Robinson's soon. My ear plugs are getting grimy -- and Dave wants a pair. The MHCC board meeting is tomorrow, and I haven't even begun to add up my expense account for the year, let alone take inventory of the MHW property in my custody I'm feeling pretty dispirited; I think my subconscious thinks that if I put it off, I'll find a way not to quit -- but once such a decision is made, you can't go back on it. If I don't quit now, I'll be fired within the year. It doesn't help that I know that of the thousand members, there isn't any other who can spare that much time every month. Maybe they can use alternating editors. On the other hand, there are all kinds of things that I can do with that time. I think I'll start by making Dave a shirt. I have, knock wood, been manfully resisting the urge to play Hoyle -- with a little help from Life, a non-mouse game. My sore neck seems to be gradually healing. 6 December 1994 Why does a little dribble of gas last so much longer when you're trying to run the tank dry than it does when you are trying to get some mowing done? I've swept up stray leaves in the front and the back and even ventured into the field, and now I've given up and left it running by itself. And it appears to intend to continue running until the noise drives me crazy. One of the movies we saw at Woods Hole showed a close-up of hands punching in data, and she was working with her arms resting on the table while her hands strained up and over to pat at the keys. This explained all the "wrist rests" that office-supply places are always advertising. Also explains the rash of carpal tunnel syndrome among key punchers. On finding my seat away too low, I started this entry trying to type that way. Continuous typos. I don't see how anybody ever gets into such a painful and injurious habit. I guess it's the delusion that it's less effortful if you don't support the weight of your arms, but why don't typing teachers explain proper form? Now an elbow rest, I could see the utility of. The mower has been going for fifteen minutes now. Must be a secret compartment in that gas tank. 7 December 1994 I have noticed that the cats are much less sensitive to getting their paws stepped on when I am carrying bowls of tuna-and-liver puree. Something nice happened this holiday season. The Auxiliary applied for a poor family to buy presents for, and didn't get one -- there aren't enough poor families to go around. Unfortunately, the agency hastened to add that it can make good use of all the food baskets it can get. It was easier to present my resignation than I had hoped, and the way they accepted it told me that I don't have to write that editorial explaining why. Unfortunately, sharing a mail-order catalog with Betty Lou during the budget meeting (neither of us had much to contribute once our categories had been discussed) reminded me that I really like these guys. I'm going to miss going to board meetings. But the board meetings are going to change, so it's better to tip on out now, and not have to watch it. Got my new crown this morning, and the glue has set, so I can eat nuts again. Cautiously. I don't want to rush it. My tongue is sore on that side, and though it doesn't feel swollen, it's hard to avoid biting it. That could partly be because I'm not accustomed to having a sharp tooth there. For several years, that tooth had been deliberately rounded to keep stress off it. The crown feels just like a real tooth already. I'd have trouble remembering which one, had I not noted that it is right under the tooth bearing the more-obtrusive band of my Maryland bridge. When I had the temporary crown, the tooth next to it felt unreasonably sharp; now everything fits together. Sent proofs off to Louis Rossi today -- now I note that I didn't return the "Fords" manuscript, and I forgot to punch in the Sports Resort ms. Ma¤a¤a. 8 December 1994 Still resisting the urge to use the mouse for games. Tried Tetris, which is a keyboard game, but it's also a quick- reaction game. My neck still a bit sore, but I have to pay attention to notice. 10 December 1994 Fred gets upset when we look at the sore spot on his back, and gallops off when we let him go, so the last time we inspected it, I kept a bit of cheese handy and gave it to him when we had finished. He ate it, *then* galloped off. I decided to forgo the peroxide. He seems to be healing. The second time I put peroxide on him, it didn't foam nearly as much as it did the first time. I'm still on methadone, but I've played two Tetris games clear to the end. Caught Fred again this morning, and the scabs seem to be peeling off. Vigorous massage before and after the inspection took his mind off it. 14 December 1994 One of the reasons that I took up making my own pants is that I don't like polyester pants -- but yesterday I bought some polyester twill to make pants of. My black cords are worn clear out, and there is nothing else to buy. Can't expect the twill to wear any longer than the corduroy, either. Been playing Tetris a lot. Got to the third level a couple of times. Can't feel the sore spot in my neck this morning. Started trying to test the shirt pattern I altered last February. Found some blue chambray, but not enough. Found a lighter blue -- not enough, and it looked horrible with the first blue. Found a scrap of white chambray striped with both blues, and distinctly remember that the fabric was five feet wide, so there must be oodles of nice big scraps -- but I can't remember where I put them. I guess I'll have to clean up the sewing room. Got to the fourth level in Tetris today, but I don't feel the urge to chain-play, as I did with Penguin. I look at the Hoyle icon longingly now and again, but remember how much my neck hurt, and refrain. 15 December 1994 Went to the Auxiliary Christmas party tonight. We planned the Lenten fish fries -- this time we're going to think first and not lose money -- and had a "grab bag." I got my own box of Hershey Kisses and Hugs back, but when I came back for my things, it was gone. I think someone mistook it for a contribution to the food pantry -- I had left the room to help carry the bags of stuff down the stairs. We don't need to eat chocolate anyway. My contribution to the orderves was a tray of deviled eggs surrounded by carrot sticks, celery sticks, tiny wedges of red cabbage, and a sliced apple. That was a Mutsu, so it was quite a lot of apple! Nobody commented on the tray, but it was less than half as crowded when I brought it home, so it must have been acceptable. Another contribution was a plate of sandwiches cut into stockings, bells, and circles. Another was a wreath of cornflakes buried in green marshmallow sauce, with red hots for berries; at first glance I took it for a ceramic decoration. My solution to the dilemma of the five-dollar gift exchange is always five dollars' worth of candy, but someone had a brighter idea: one of the gifts was two paperback books. Everyone was much impressed; it seems that they all love Danielle Steele. Well, nobody who didn't mentioned it. One of the girls commented that it takes Steele two years to write a new one, so perhaps the romances are better than their reputation implies. 16 December 1994 I got to level six on Tetris today. I don't think the methadone is working. But it doesn't hurt my neck. Still scrounging around for something to test my shirt pattern on. I've a large piece of solid green poly-cotton, but Dave hates that shade of green. Found the makings of two sheets that got buried and forgotten; plan to finish those before starting the shirt, as another sheet wore out a few days ago. When I put the laundry away today, there wasn't room for all the pillowcases. I must have finally made enough. I'm used to changing the cases, then having to wash before I can change them again. Which was an improvement over having to wash before I could finish changing them! Also find that I have more rejected pillows piled on the spare bed than I thought; I think I'll store them on the rollaways -- the cats won't mind. I've been reading my August diary, wherein I optimistically opined that my new summer cycling suit would do under winter clothes. After wearing it under tights once, I took it to an MHW swop shop and marked it "free." Haven't gotten around to writing Flye yet, but I've got the start of a letter on disk. Have to measure myself. Sure hope they can make a cotton jersey in yellow -- it's getting harder and harder to buy fabric. You'd think, with shipping and manufacturing so much cheaper than fifty years ago, that there'd be more choices instead of fewer. You can't buy size 10 socks anywhere, and I know of only one store that carries shoes in different widths. At least I can still buy crochet hooks -- by mail order. Or I could a few years ago. I haven't used that catalog in some time. 17 December 1994 Reached level 7 in Tetris today. This isn't the way it's supposed to work. Heard a signal on Dave's radio that would have been good code practice, but I was busy at the time. It wasn't an amateur frequency, so curiosity would have been a strong motivation. Dave's talking about buying a duplicate of his car radio for me, so that we can talk to each other. I'll also have a hand-held, after his old one is repaired. Now what were my call letters again? He's getting me a CD-ROM for Christmas. I'm looking for a belt. I was horrified at the suspenders in the shops at Stuyvesant Plaza. All cost well over $40, and all would have looked at home on clowns. Except for the braided-leather pair. Some of the belts weren't garish, but all were expensive, and none were size 44. 18 December 1994 Dave has decided to switch the fire company's books from Dac Easy Lite to Quicken, and means to warm up by putting our personal accounts on the computer -- the job is less complicated, and he can always fall back on the paper check register. He is already so enthusiastic that he is talking about buying us some pinfeed checks. Seems to me that I got fired from keeping the family's books once before. Speaking of getting fired, when worrying over how much hard disk Quicken occupies, Dave gleefully counted up how many megabites will be liberated when I erase "ZMHW" and its subdirectories. I could recover most of those bytes now, since I don't erase those huge Publisher files after archiving them. It's slightly easier to have them on drive C than only on the shelf, and we aren't *really* tight yet. Come to think of it, I haven't archived lately. Should get on with it to save a heavy job when the new editor is appointed. I'm going to miss the Okidata printer. So will Dave -- and you guys, if I use Dave's printer for the Banner. The daisy wheel makes better copy than the new printer does when I use the resident fonts, but I broke the tractor feed a long time ago and I'm seldom terse enough to hand-feed the Banner. On the other hand, if you line the box of paper up carefully, it doesn't drift much, and the daisy *does* have a paper release for mid-stream adjustments. On the third hand, if I recall correctly, it takes one full minute per page. On the fourth hand, I sometimes get a lot of cleaning done while waiting for the printer. It's been weeks since it got too cold to stand in the wind feeding teeny handfuls of paper through a slot I can barely reach, but it still feels queer to throw clean paper into the landfill baskets. I wonder how long it will take to re-readjust in the spring? I haven't played Tetris today -- yet. 19 December 1994 When listening to the news one day, I thought that poor Clinton's life must be like the end game in Tetris: as your mistakes pile up under you, the space you have to work in gets smaller and smaller and the tetrominos drop faster and faster, and when the last few pieces pop out, absolutely nothing you can do is right. Somebody ought to write a game called "Dois" (or DOS?). If the pieces dropping were dominos, there would be nothing to it. Finished the sheets, which were some 108" fabric I'd forgotten buying. Since I'd found it in association with some print I had reserved for making false hems, I'd thought it was 90" fabric & overestimated the job. So it was a simple matter of putting in four hems, and I'd done the pressing yesterday, but it got strenuous all the same. Having finished the sheets, I decided to put one of them on the bed, and then I thought the pillowcases looked a bit dingy and decided to change all nine of them, not just the one Dave sweats on, and that got rather aerobic toward the end. Then I ran to the cellar for the long, long case that goes on the "body pillow," and found that it had been in the linen closet all along, on the wrong shelf -- but when it came to wrestling the other one off and wrestling this one on, I decided that it hadn't been very long since I changed it after all. Dave helped me the last time I changed the double-long pillow, but he isn't home right now. Meant to take the Mem List to the printshop today, and then go shopping, but I decided that I'd rather ride my bike & I'm not in shape to ride that far, so this morning, before my ride could get postponed into sunset, I took the Christmas cards to the post office. (We ought to send out New Year's cards instead!) That was a half-and-half trip. I looked into my wallet, noted that there was ample money to buy two gallons of milk, and decided not to retrieve the $50 bill I'd pinned it into the passport pocket of my blue pants during the trip to Woods Hole. Then I headed for the post office with the intention of buying a sheet of stamps! With the postal rise already announced, fifty stamps are plenty anyway. Then I arrived at Mobil and saw the Sycaway truck out front -- I'm sure to get my milk today! Only two halves in the case, so I told the clerk I'd wait for the other two. And the driver came in -- and said that they were selling 1% "the same as skim milk" this trip. I like 1% better, but we drink a lot of milk, and my windbreaker was, at that moment, unbecomingly hiked up because it won't fit over my wallet, so I settled for the two halves. 20 December 1994 Made level eight in Tetris this morning. One advantage: the second game never goes as well as the first, so the temptation to waste time is less than it was with Penguin. Time to get into my little car and deliver the membership list -- of the Mohawk-Hudson Cycling Club. Hope I don't forget to point out the change in name to the printer. I expect Herb would pay their bill anyway. Came back from shopping in need of a nap, and when I fell asleep I had a dream so horrible that it woke me right up: I was in a store applying for a job and music started coming over the loudspeakers. As I was raging about frantically trying to escape, the proprietor said, soothingly, "But I have some records of music that I like -- won't you stay if we play that instead of Muzak?" After a couple of hours in Crossgates, even the quiet and unobtrusive carols in Star Market set my teeth on edge, and I wasn't able to stay in Rite Aid Pharmacy long enough to see whether they carry effervescent anti-acid. I ought to get together with the Albanian who wrote to the Times Union that she is "assaulted and battered" every time she walks past someone who wears perfume. Didn't help that my legs hurt. I walked on those tile floors from Filene's to Penney's, then as I left Penny's for the return trek, I started to limp from carrying my excess poundage. They really ought to rent tricycles. Met Alice G. near the exit -- she was halfway through, having entered at Penney's -- and she said that a bike would wear her out, she wanted an electric cart. And she doesn't weigh half what I do. On the other hand, Penney's did have hold-up-your-pants belts and suspenders. I bought a black full-grain leather belt with much trepidation, and a plain pair of black suspenders with more confidence. Found two gift boxes in the bag when I got home, but put both into one. Haven't wrapped 'em yet. There was a box from Kenwood Service Center on the step when I was so rudely aroused from my nap, but it's addressed to Dave, so I haven't opened it. I don't know where he put the batteries anyway. 21 December 1994 Hit level eight again today, with a higher score than before. Fell off the wagon and played Penguin, Spiderette, and Eagle Wing. Wasn't much fun, but doesn't take any brain power. Found the striped scraps, and reduced the entropy in the spare room a bit. When I laid the chambray scraps out, I found that there was no way to cut a front and a back the same color, and I don't want to engage in elaborate patchwork. With all the bushels of fabric I have, I'm going to have to buy something to test my alterations. So I plan to make my pants first. Hope I remember where I put the black fabric. Also started to make the new ironing-board cover I've been needing for months -- but I can't remember where I put the new bias-tape folder I've been wanting to try out. Such a small gadget could be almost anywhere. Two corrections to the Member List arrived in today's mail. I started an errata list in the February Bikeabout. Dave pointed out that the Mohawk Hud*son* Cycling Club is still not P.C. Our Safety and Ed director has quit too. He cited hard work and the club's lack of interest. I now have a hand-held, but there is no instruction manual. And I can't remember which frequencies No-Code Technicians may use. There's a table in "Now You're Talking." 22 December 1994 I was thinking that I ought to finish the three remaining curtains by New Year's, and trying to remember how many inches to cut for a yard, when the dime dropped: the remaining cloth is small enough to put into the washer, so I don't have to cut it before I wash it. So it's in the washer soaking -- together with three bar rags from the firehouse kitchen and some dingy socks and underwear -- and I'll wash it tomorrow. I doubt that I'll cut it before Christmas, though. When I resumed sewing, I traded the "compact fluorescent" in the spare room for a 100-watt incandescent. Stashed the fluorescent in a drawer, since we don't have any lights we leave on for a long time, except the porch light. I'm not sure the fluorescent is rated for outdoor use. For exercise, I rode my bike to Mobil this morning -- and then went on to Stewart's, because Mobil still didn't have skim milk. Should have some next time; I think they get a delivery on Thursday. But I forgot that we also needed bread, and now we are completely out. Also forgot to stop on the way back from the poets' meeting, but Dave says that there is still a box of waffles in the downstairs freezer. 25 December 1994 There weren't any waffles. I forget what I did for breakfast. I've been wanting an idea of what we have been paying for Compuserve, so this morning I asked Dave to get me a hardcopy of the bill. I expected something like the phone bill -- instead I got sixteen pages of absolutely naked numbers and dates. I suppose that such a bill would be some use to someone who kept a detailed diary of every log-on and what happened during the session. I'm as much at sea as ever, except that what I thought was a monthly fee is charged every two weeks. I bought bread and milk at Mobil after pizza yesterday. I didn't get much done -- it rained and was dreary and depressing all day. They were predicting that the dreary weather would last though today, but it is bright and sunny out. Still no persistent snow, but it is nearly January and nothing is trying to bloom, so it must have been cold enough. I've been riding more since it got cold than I have all summer -- I went out Monday to buy stamps, and Thursday to buy milk, and Friday I rode all the way to Stonewell to buy bread. I'll use the last potatoes for the Christmas dinner, and we're already low on eggs, so I'll be out again on Monday. In some vehicle or another. 26 December 1994 Took an inspection tour of the property after writing the above. The buds on a few branches of the forsythia are so swollen that the green is showing, but most of the buds are tight. If the forsythia is lying low, then everything must be all right. The violas are in bloom, but I think that's still, not again. On the other hand, today is bright, sunny, and downright warm. I've opened two windows to let the smell of paste wax out. I've scrubbed a strip of floor in the living room. Dave is complaining of "clean spots" on the wood floors. UPS left another featherweight box on the step Christmas eve or the day before, about the same as the one they brought my hand-held in. I thought my present had arrived on time after all, but it was a mouse pad in all that packaging! While cleaning the spare room today, I opened a suit box and found Grandma's collection of handkerchiefs. If any of you guys want handkerchiefs, let me know. (And remind me that they are in a suit box!) Also found two pairs of scissors in a box of scraps. I'd been wondering where they were. One belongs in the sewing stand and the other belongs on the magnetic pincushion; I've no idea how they came to get lost together. I waxed another strip of the living-room floor before putting the stuff away, and wasn't surprised that my knees felt irritated. But when we got up from eating supper at the Gold Coin, my knees were so sore that I rolled up a pants leg as soon as we got into the car -- I'd rubbed a big blister on each knee, and broken it open! The raw spots have dried up a bit now, but I guess I won't be waxing any more floor tomorrow. Be a good excuse to go riding instead -- and a good time to shop for gift wrap, etc. I miss dime stores. They had been gone for twenty or thirty years before Woolworth folded, though. The father of one of the auxiliary members has died. I've got two dresses that are too tight and one with glitter down the front, and I don't think I could buy something before Wednesday. 27 December 1994 Realized a bit later that what I really need for a December wake is a decent coat. I never replaced my long coat because it had been too small for two years before I noticed, but I find that an old tan coat of Dave's doesn't look at all bad on me. And it's long enough that I don't need to worry about the state of my knees. I was planning to cut my new pants today, but that means crawling on the floor, which probably wouldn't be too bright, so I'd best clear the table off and start work on the last three curtains. I'm thinking I ought to make the one for the south window lined, or make an under-curtain, because osnaburg doesn't do a good job of keeping the sun out of my eyes while I'm cooking breakfast. The sun is so low in the winter, and rises so late, that at breakfast time the shaft of light coming in the dining room window neatly threads the door into the kitchen and strikes precisely in the face of someone standing at the stove. 27 December 1994 Ah, my mis-spent hours! I got my first level 9 in Tetris today, and edged "Julie" out of first place in the high-scores table. "Alex" is long-since gone, and "Shirlee" clings precariously to last place. A few more wins and "addict" will be the only player on the list. Then where will the fun be? Dave has never heard of any of those people; heaven only knows where this copy of Tetris has been.