---L--P+----1----@10--2----+----3----- R
19 July 1996
The good news: the first load was half
shirts, so when I saw that the rain had
already started, I was able to put it on
hangers in the doorway, except for one
pillowcase and two washrags.
The bad news: the second load, which
I'm not now going to put in, included all
my socks.
Put it in after all, to soak overnight.
After mopping rain off the sill of the
bay window, I decided to scrub it and put
on a fresh coat of paste wax. When I'd
just finished & stepped back to survey the
wet wax, Frieda lightly leaped onto the
windowsill, and lightly trotted through an
arc that took her back to the floor. No
hint of surprise or hesitation.
I've buffed it now, so the kitties can
come back. I presume, though, that it
still stinks.
Better-than-usual Enterprise. Good
week for local news?
Speaking of news, one side effect of
the TWA crash is that all TV and radio
shows are boring. Everybody feels that he
has to talk about the crash, and nobody
knows anything worth saying.
20 July 1996
Erica slept with us all night. I
slipped out of bed this morning, leaving
Erk and Dave snoring, and went to the
cellar to start the whites I'd left
soaking in the washer. Erica was
peanutting in her little cave under the
window screens. After hanging the wash, I
tiptoed up the stairs with some of the
stuff that I dried in the doorway
yesterday, and Erica was curled up on a
blanket that I had knocked off the bed
during the night.
Are you sure there's only one of this
cat?
The latest Writer is the annual "how to
sell your book" issue. I started going
through the market list highlighting all
the publishers that weren't obviously
hopeless at first glance -- surprisingly
few, as all but the biggest are narrowly
specialized -- and grogged out in the
"M"s.
Hmm. I remembered it as "G" or "H" --
do you suppose I should read the last few
pages a second time?
It's downright cold this morning. Also
very windy -- we loved that last night,
when it was still warm, and didn't turn on
the fan. The door to the sewing room blew
shut. I heard it, but didn't get up, as
we were getting plenty of ventilation
without it.
This morning I got into the "S"s before
I got crosseyed. I'm accumulating a list
of turn-off words such as "literary" and
"studies" and "quality." None of the book
publishers has said "highest literary
quality" yet; in the magazine listings,
that's code for "we don't pay."
Rode to Altamont this afternoon, and
visited Agway and the thrift shop. The
"farm" store has finished mutating into a
suburb store, selling only garden stuff
and pet supplies. Thrift shop duller than
I remembered; even the books were of no
interest. I did buy my first (and
possibly last) Nutrageous bar at the
village market, where I observed a large
collection of large motorcycles taking a
pizza break on what appeared to be a
multi-day tour.
If Altamont were more interesting, I'd
get more exercise; it's a pleasant ride.
Much pleasanter coming back! The wind was
so strong on the way out that I never got
off the little ring.
At least it didn't reverse for the trip
back.
It has been days since I've used the
mouse to play computer games, and my hands
are much better -- but the temptation is
getting stronger.
Though it's my right hand that's been
swelling, it was the left hand that
tingled on the bike. (Didn't notice
anything on the easier return leg.) Of
course, it wasn't until a girl on her way
to the Altamont market tucked in behind me
that I needed to put it behind my back and
wiggle the fingers.
21 July 1996
I've pruned a tree before breakfast.
On the way back from not getting the paper
(which still isn't here, at 6:23), I
noticed that yesterday's high winds had
broken a trunk off the filbert bush.
Erica has been insisting that I serve
her supper in the kitchen, but yesterday
she jumped up onto the glove chest
spontaneously, before I'd put cat food on
it. I think the hair is growing back on
her spot, too, but it could be that she is
shifting her excess grooming instead of
reducing it.
Still walks funny. I may call the vet
Monday, to see whether she needs her
Vetalog back.
I'm definitely taking me to the vet. A
back tooth is sore. I noticed a few days
ago that I've shifted from being right-
toothed to being left-toothed, so I think
this has been going on for a long time.
When it first started hurting (two bites
into a wonderfully crunchy edition of the
prize-winning "Villager" pizza {sob!}), I
couldn't tell whether it was upper or
lower, so it could be what we were hunting
around my bridge for, when we went to so
much trouble to patch an ignorable problem
in my wisdom tooth.
Dave got a nosebleed during the pizza,
though he said he'd never had one as easy
to stop. We brought half the pizza home.
24 July 1996
I greatly fear that Erica is avoiding
me. Early this afternoon she was having a
high old time distracting me from patching
my jeans, purring and rubbing, and I
decided that a cat in hand should go the
the vet ten minutes early. She hated
every minute of it, and called me a "meow"
and a "mrrow", neither of which I'd
translate even if there were
English equivalents.
Essentially, the diagnosis is that
she's fourteen years old. Dr. Bull didn't
want to start the Vetalog again, and all
the less-drastic arthritis medicines are
toxic to cats, so she prescribed a
"nutriceutical" that works for about half
the cats with arthritis. Sea mussels and
brewer's yeast colored green with alfalfa;
she said that Dr. Lynx takes it himself.
Dave said that it smelled like malt; I
thought it more like rotten fish. Erica
didn't notice the tablet in her Friskies
Mixed Grill despite its odd color.
This was a relief. Dave had just
cancelled his standing order for a big
spoon with his breakfast, to crush his
caplets, and I had been afraid I'd have to
take up where he left off.
Saturday night, when Dave first
wondered what was wrong with me, I told
him I'd broken a tooth, but I counted,
when things had calmed down a bit, and all
were present. The pain was highly un-
local & I kept chasing it around, never
quite certain it was the lower jaw.
Ellenbogen almost immediately traced it to
a specific tooth, x-rays were taken, then
he started poking around and called the
hygienist back in, saying "You've got to
see this; you won't believe it." I did my
best to say "What? What? What?" but
wasn't well fixed to commnunicate.
It seems that one whole cusp of my
middle molar had broken off. He pulled
the shard out with forceps, and had to
struggle a bit to get it loose from the
gum. Slapped a temporary filling on what
was left -- I called it "plaster" because
the "hole" was a vertical wall -- and I
began to feel much better at once.
That changed the following day
when he put in the temporary crown, which
involved a lot of pounding, and also
something called "cord" to push my gums
down for the impressions.
I came home a little before one, dined
on mush, and unwound a bit. Just as I
felt that it was time for my afternoon
nap, the novocain started wearing off. So
I read a Hitchcock magazine instead.
Couldn't get to sleep that night either,
though by then it hurt much less than it
had on Saturday, when I slept like a top.
(Perhaps the bike trip to Altamont into a
high wind had something to do with that.)
I don't remember aching; just couldn't get
to sleep. It was sore enough when I woke
up; thought I was coming down with a cold
or sore throat, but it loosened up when I
started moving around. Still sore clear
into the ear, but have to stop and think
about it to notice.
I'm due back for the permanent crown on
the eighth of August, then the Westons are
celebrating their silver anniversary on
the tenth, and we leave for Indiana on the
eleventh.
Not to mention that the fair starts
tomorrow. I'm feeling a bit overbooked.
July 27, 1996
Boy, is my list of things to do getting
clogged. Next up is "take a nap."
28 July 1996
Got home about midnight -- was around
one in the morning yesterday. Cold wind
scattered the customers, but party was
about over anyhow. The food booth sold
out. Dave took bulging bag to bank. Not
home yet. Hadn't locked up yet when I
left.
Big job of counting tomorrow. Took
only twenties and larger out of the bags.
Dave took a bucket of quarters -- and
one washer -- out of the quarter drop when
we ran low on change. I think we'd have
made it without them, but we have to count
them sometime anyway.
Discovered that if you watch closely,
you can see the quarters dropping off the
sides of the quarter drop. I can't
believe that parents encourage their
children to put money into the machine. A
father was holding his son up to reach the
slot when I looked at it.
We got about $400 as our share of the
carnival rides. Worth $5000 in
advertising, one of the officers opined.
The carnival owner also seems pleased with
his bargain. The craft show people took
up a collection of $80, with a check in
the mail. This also was deemed primarily
advertising -- and a rehearsal for next
year, when we will charge $10 a table.
Didn't have time to sell the slots this
year, but by advertising "free exposure,"
we filled both the quonset hut and the
chicken house, and a jewelry dealer's tent
filled up the space between. Made that
side of the fairground much more festive
at no expense to us. Alas, except for a
few rag dolls, there was only what you'd
expect to find in a carnival craft show.
Nothing was outright trash, as often
happens, but nothing was imaginative or
exquisite either.
The pony rides were a big hit, and I
thought the fluffy bunnies would be petted
bald. They didn't seem to mind the
commotion at all.
Erk didn't get her pill today. I
should have sneaked it into her tender
vittles at breakfast. I wonder whether I
should give her two tomorrow?
29 July 1996
I did.
Huff, puff. Dave asked me to make a
deposit -- $5,9187.43, and only two
twenties in the bunch. $3,800 in ones,
$1,200 in quarters, $270 in dimes, $54 in
nickels, and $2.50 in pennies. Plus what
we didn't wrap. Took me four trips to put
it into the car. And quite a while to add
it up, though we did most of the counting
yesterday.
Only three trips to get it into the
bank -- motivation. The first teller to
be free when I got to the head of the line
said "I don't want to do that!" The more-
experienced teller who did take it said
that she would count it later and mail us
the receipt.
30 July 1996
Cool! I got fumble-fingered this
morning and discovered that the Windows
menu that appears to be labeled "alt
minus" is actually labeled "alt spacebar."
Since this is the main menu, a way to get
at it without using the mouse is very
welcome.
Made another quarter-haul this morning,
with three bundles of checks to deposit.
With any luck, this is the last one.
1 August 1996
Fred and Booker had another cat fight,
much shorter and less noisy than the first
one. I think that they have decided that
standing on your hind legs and peering
through a plexiglas window isn't a
satisfactory way to stage a fight.
Hung out the muslin I bought from
Dharma Trading Company this morning --
whether to dry or to get rained on remains
to be seen. I soaked it two nights, so it
must have arrived on Tuesday.
The ready-to-dye sheets that Dharma
makes from this same muslin are hemmed on
all four sides, so I figured I'd have to
cut off the selvedges, but they appear to
be proper sheet-type selvages, about half
an inch wide.
But I plan to use it crosswise.
I'm very glad that I'll never have to
wash this all in one piece again. I think
they sent me a piece a bit wider and
longer than the one one that I ordered.
That may have changed after the two soapy
soaks. Had an emergency load of underwear
to run yesterday, and it wasn't a drying
day (most of the stuff is still hanging in
the doorway), so I wrung the sheeting,
kept it in a basket while washing, and put
it back.
Another emergency wash this morning:
somebody threw up fur on the pillow I keep
in the bay window. I waxed the sill not
too long ago, fortunately.
This time I finished washing the sheet
first.
What a struggle! Yesterday I had a
spoonful of chicken-broth skimmings I
thought would be good for Erk, and tried
to kill two birds with one stone by
dropping her pill into it. She washed the
pill and left it in the dish.
I saved the dish and put her supper on
top of the pill -- she said "No thanks; I
had a nice little dish of fat about half
an hour ago."
I put it aside to wait for her to work
up an appetite & forgot about it until I
saw her this morning. She ate some, but
didn't get to the pill; it wasn't
suppertime, and Fred & Freed spoiled her
appetite. I decided it was time to haul
out the heavy artillery & frosted a fresh
pill with cream cheese, using as little as
possible because the vet said there's an
off chance that dairy products make her
itch.
She nearly bit me getting it off my
finger, and said "Thanks; got another?"
Come six o'clock, Erk. If she doesn't
eat it this time, I'll throw it out.
I threw it out. The cream-cheese bit
again, then she ate the rest of her
supper. Do you suppose I'm being trained?
Erk went into the garage, with the
outer door open nine inches, for a while
today, and didn't seem eager to come back
in. Earlier, when we had a thunderstorm,
she cowered beside the couch instead of in
the cellar.
And her fur is growing back.
2 August 1996
Erk took her pill in her cat food
tonight; didn't eat all the food, but got
the pill. I think I'd better open one of
the little flat cans next; they seem to be
getting tired of Friskies Buffet. (Only
two flavors, and a can lasts days and
days.)
Stirred up a cloud of fur the last time
I petted her, just like old times.
Today I pulled more winter onions than
I wanted to peel and chop. The first of
August seems to be the best time to pick
them -- a few are sprouted, but one of the
bulbs was big enough to slice for
sandwiches. You would have to slice it
very thin -- it takes only a dash
of the dried onion to season a whole
gallon of stew. When Dave came home, he
thought the house smelled of garlic.
The clumps of onion are still crowded.
Bindweed isn't too bad, except in the
asparagus bed.
Mowed the new grass for the first time
today. The old grass around it was wet
and cloggy despite the sunny weather; I
don't think we've been getting as much
rain as it seemed, if the sprinkler can
make that much difference in the grass,
that long after we stop. It has been
raining often, but not heavy or long.
The soil I turned up cultivating the
garden was damp, though. Drier on the
side nearer to the house.
Some sod that had been creeping into
the garden turned out to be creeping
charlie (ground mint), which has
gratifyingly shallow roots.
Tore my muslin from Dharma Trading
Company in half last night, and got one of
the pieces made into a sheet this morning.
Just in time -- when I put it on the bed
this evening, I found a three-cornered
tear in the old sheet I was putting on for
a bottom sheet. I used it anyway, since I
mean to finish the other one tomorrow and
put it on the bed at once. I washed the
muslin before making it into sheets -- and
that's the last time I wash six yards of
ninety-inch heavy muslin all in one piece!
It's a little coarser than I like, but
I'm hoping that it will soften when I've
washed out all the sizing. I soaked it
two nights, but that isn't enough. Also
didn't agitate much (because the edges
were raw), and the washer was overloaded.
The kapok pillow the cat threw up on
still isn't dry. Made more progress on
the line today than it did in the doorway
yesterday!
3 August 1996
Kapok pillow on line again. Parts of
it are getting fluffy.
In the evening, I noticed that it was
raining. Seems to be wet only on the
surface; I hung it beside the hassock fan.
I was leafing through the classifieds
in Threads Magazine, and came across
"Unusual Fabrics -- 100% cotton chambrays,
sheetings, denims." How's that
for future shock?
Both sheets are on the bed, and Dave is
in it. Not much else accomplished today.
I did drag the suitcases out of the attic.
Now to make the annual discovery that I
own no clothes. I'm particularly short on
summer shirts.
We went to Yan's Chinese Buffet in
Delmar for supper. I don't see how they
can sell all-you-can-eat of such good food
for eight dollars a head. There's even a
serve-yourself ice-cream machine.
I should have had more rice and less
meat. Oddly, the menu is rather short on
vegetables. I thought I saw potatoes on
another customer's plate, but when I found
the dish, it was labeled "fried scallops."
Having overloaded on beef, pork, and
chicken, I passed.
8 August 1996
Got the permanent crown -- and I have
to work at remembering that the glue
hasn't set! What a change from the
temporary!
Finally put the pillow back in the
windowsill not too long ago. Left it in
the fog and dew overnight twice.
The kitties are cruising for plastic
covers on their mattresses.
Somebody threw up on the hardwood floor
yesterday.
I hosed out the mower this morning --
wonder whether it's dry enough to use?
Nice breeze, good time to mow. I've
decided to let the remaining field go and
start again out front. Hope to make it
back to the house before time to leave.
9 August 1996
Sigh. I was too sick to mow yesterday,
and today it is raining. Looks like I'll
be mowing all day tomorrow. At least the
mower is working much better, and throwing
the grass farther, now that it's been
hosed out. I suspect that one is supposed
to do that after every mowing.
For a while there, I thought I wasn't
going to come to in time to go to
Christine's yesterday.
Got started on the law yesterday,
knocked off to get Dave's lunch, my period
started during lunch, so I took aspirin
lay down a couple of hours, got up, took
more aspirin, got the mail, discovered
that I couldn't read Rick's letter, went
back for a couple more hours -- was moving
again about four, and got a little
sweeping done before starting to dress for
our 5:30 appointment.
At which time I decided that there was
no way I'd put on hose, then realized that
everything that goes with my black
(polyester!) pants is long-sleeved. Found
the shirt I bought in the Bahamas &
decided to go with festive instead of
elegant.
Then I tried, tried, tried, and tried
to pin my hair into a plain bun that you'd
have time to do on your way out of a
burning building. You just can't arrange
hair with wet hands, and not even standing
over the fan would get them half-way dry
for even a millisecond. Finally managed
to tie it back, rather sloppily, with a
pigtail holder.
By this time Dave is home. After all
the fuss I was making, he decided to
change into a dry shirt, choosing a
tropical print to harmonize with the
poncho shirt.
The restaurant is air-conditioned, and
the food was great. Dave had a stuffed
steak, and I had chicken marsala. We went
whole hog and shared two pieces
of pie, one lemon meringue, one chocolate
cream. Dave suggested coming back for our
next anniversary.
I think it's been a long time since we
celebrated on the actual date.
Whoosh! It's raining so hard now that
I've not only given up on mowing the lawn,
I'm commencing to wonder how I'll dig
potatoes to make salad for the party
tomorrow.
I'll bet Rascal hates this downpour.
He has refused to come into the house ever
since Margie died, and Danny feeds him in
the shed.
During dinner, I realized that in
addition to not being sore from the
surgery, all the little pains that have
been plaguing me for months are gone.
Must have all been in that one tooth.
Feels odd: I'm going to the gas station
today -- for gasoline.
Later: I pulled into a parking space
instead of going to the pumps, and had to
back up. Was saved from driving just to
buy gas by running out of mayo. Glad I
remembered before digging the
potatoes. Left those not immediately
wanted buried; don't have a good place to
keep them in the house -- the last sack I
put in the cellar was infested, so I don't
want to put the new potatoes there.
Salad turned out pretty good. The
potatoes, onions, garlic, and proto-
Jerusalem artichokes were all ours. From
Super Valu were the salt, mayo, and dill
relish. Meant to put in dill weed &
couldn't find it, then realized that I had
some relish, which is much
better.
There had been some sunchokes in the
mulch I put on the potatoes, and I let
them grow. Three or four got dug up with
the potatoes & I salvaged a handful of
incipient tubers to season the salad with
-- put them in skins and all, since they
were so young. Also left potatoes
upeeled, but some skin scrubbed off, some
scraped off when I went after blemishes
before boiling, and some stuck to the
knife when I cut them up.
One potato was red, but it lost nearly
all its skin in the bath. That end of the
row isn't dying, but the cats excavated
between the red and white a few weeks ago
and scattered potatoes around the garden.
Just before I went out to dig some,
luckily.
Hardly anything done, and the whole
yard has to be mowed tomorrow. Before the
party starts at 2:00.
My nose is out of joint. I changed the
knitlist to "digest" format this morning,
to get two or three long messages a day
while we are gone, instead of fifty or
sixty short ones. As a result, when I
check the mail -- I haven't got mail!
When you are accustomed to an average rate
of two or three per hour, and much thicker
at just the times when one is likely to
check the box, it's startling to find it
empty.
Joined another list, fiberlink, but
there are a tenth as many members; so far,
I've received only one digest.
Why do they call concatenations
"digests"? Newbies get confused enough
when you say what you mean.
13 August 1996
I'm using the laptop on my lap. Not
the recommended method, but it works.
Takes some getting used to, particularly
such things as actually having to wait
when the spell checker says "guessing,
wait."
15 August 1996
Starting to think about dividing the
luggage into what goes back with Dave &
what goes with me. Didn't think to shine
up my old shoes after that last-minute
dash at the yard and garden, & I hate to
go anywhere without shoes that I don't
mind dunking in mud, so it looks as though
I'll have to take both pairs. And if I
decide to take the dress, that's a third
pair. About half a suitcase before I
start in on the clothes!
All the keys on this here computer are
in odd places.
Realized today that I forgot to pack
spare pigtail holders. Had one in my
purse, but I'd better keep an eye on it!
16 August 1996
Found my pigtail holder lying on the
patio. Almost lost the other about the
same time.
Ran into Dave's eighth-grade teacher
while walking in the park today. Turned
out to be the other David Beeson.
24 August 1996
There are two loads of wash hanging
hither and thither about the house. It
rained only once while I was gone, and my
last basil plant died, but the day I felt
up to tackling the lawn, we had heavy
showers all day. Could have started the
mowing Thursday evening, had I realized I
needed to push myself.
One of the damp items is my denim
pants, and when I was sitting around after
pizza Thursday night, Frieda jumped into
my lap and pulled a few long picks out of
my polyester-with-a-dash-of-wool pants. I
don't want to wear them again until I've
made some effort to salvage them; they
were my dress-up pants.
So when I went out for eggs yesterday,
I had to wear the imitation-wool flannels
usually reserved for very cold weather.
About time I made another pair of denims;
my old pair has gotten so shabby that I'd
rather not mow the front lawn in
them, so I always have to change before
running out for eggs.
Maybe I should pull on a T-shirt with
short sleeves hanging to the wrist and an
undershirt poking out through the neck,
and wear them anyway. But fashionable
pants have holes, not patches.
Erica got out of the notion of taking
her pill while I was gone, and I don't
want to use the grab-and-stuff method with
a chewable tablet -- scaled up to human
size, it's as big as an Alka-Seltzer.
Since Dave & Nancy H. overfeed her, I
tried first the old method, with barely
enough cat food to conceal it. She washed
the pill and left. I stuck it to my
finger with cream cheese -- a method
heretofore so effective that I called it
"heavy artillery" -- chased her down, and
stuck my finger in her face. Purring
loudly, she licked the pill as clean as
she could without undergoing the slightest
risk of swallowing it. I crushed it in
the dish and stirred in a little more
cream cheese and some cat food. She said
"I have dined sufficiently, thank you."
I decided to give her some time to
regain her appetite, and tried again that
night. I crushed another pill, added cat
food, and, on impulse, a little water.
That was the key! By adding more water, I
got better than three-fourths of the pill
down her.
Yesterday I put some water in the
crushed pill, then thickened the broth
with cat food. She lapped it up.
But the pill floats; next time I'll put
the cat food in before the water.
I put the small flight bag inside the
large flight bag this morning. While
checking that all the pockets were empty,
I discovered the stuff I thought I'd
forgotten & left in Dave's mother's
bathroom.
So that's two of the five bags taken
care of. I think I'll empty the hanger
case next, so that I can put the flight
bags in it and put them in the attic.
Besides, Fred is asleep in the smaller
gray suitcase. The gym bag I didn't use
is catching most of the fur.
The other gym bag should be easy to
dispose of; it contains only my vest-in-
progress -- I finished the back of the
armholes on the plane, and resumed work on
the front -- a change of underwear, and
some granola bars. I ate one of the bars
in the gate, and it turned out to be
primarily coconut. I shall have to go on
some long bike rides to dispose of the
others, as Dave never gets hungry enough
to eat coconut.
Grump. It's showering again. Even if
it quits soon, the grass isn't going to be
dry enough to mow today.
Upon coming home, I bridged between my
inadequate lunch and an early supper by
drinking one of the "Resource" boxes I'd
bought to carry in the car before I
decided not to take the cooler. When I
consume that many calories, I expect to
have a little more fun! And when I spend
that much money, I expect at least one
ingredient. (It's 100% additives.)
Reminds me of the bike newsgroup where
I read a discussion of Power Bars in which
one member opined "Bit O'Honey tastes
better and costs less." I checked every
candy display for Bit O'Honey for weeks,
until it dawned on me that I had been
reading rec.bikes.aus -- Australia. I
think they were illegalized in the U.S. on
account of containing only a bit of honey,
and I've never seen anything that might be
the same candy under a different name.
I have just discovered that it is now
possible to run two copies of PC-Write
under Windows. No doubt not unconnected
with the mysterious cessation of the disk-
error messages we used to get every time
we loaded PCW.
I took the laptop with me, thinking
that I'd keep up the Banner while gone,
but quickly discovered that I cannot write
when other people are in the house. I
like to think that if I had deadlines to
meet I could shut people out and buckle
down, but the Banner, forgive me, is not
something one can concentrate on.
Mom could never sleep if anyone was
awake. Does that mean that writing the
Banner is like sleeping?
LIKE WOW! Just entered into Quicken
the expenses I noted in my datebook while
traveling, and only $0.47 is unaccounted
for! Dave says that he mislaid over $100.
26 August 1996
And then I found a register tape for a
dollar I spent on granola bars and didn't
record. I threw it out.
The queen mother died while we were
gone. She and one of her daughters
developed FLV. Now Booker is locked into
the garage to keep him away from the
outdoor cats and everybody has to go in
for tests and shots -- except the deaf
tom, who tested clean during his other
troubles, but has to go in for alteration.
The platoon is lost without its
sergeant, and the kittens have taken to
mewing at our door; they run away if I
come out, so I suppose they are calling
for Grandma.
The gray tom has noticed that he's
deaf; he is always looking around, so that
it's difficult to sneak up behind him and
make a noise to see whether it's clearing
up. Not much hope.
And now the surviving daughter is
mewing on my doorstep. Seems to want her
ears rubbed, but won't let me get close
unless Danny is around. I've been meaning
for months to take my knitting outside and
sit still long enough for them to get
confident, but there's always something
else more urgent.
Switched the knitlist back to "ack"
yesterday; I meant to wait until I caught
up, but I can read the individual messages
much faster than the digests. There are
lots of times when I could read and trash
three or four messages, but if I don't
finish a digest in one sitting, I have to
hunt for my place. (Can't mark it unless
I copy it to a text file, and changing
programs messes up format.)
27 August 1996
Found a reference in Arachne that I
wanted to paste into my shopping list, and
was reminded of another change in PCW: it
is no longer necessary to put the cursor
at the end of the file before using the
Windows paste. I wonder what we did to
make PCW so much more compatible with
Windows?
And will it stick when (not if) Dave
yields to his lust for Windows 95?
Hoot mon, I should attempt using PCW's
windows again. They started misbehaving
when we switched from the firehouse
computer to this one, and I forgot that
PCW had windows.
Perhaps it wasn't her mother that the
Aunt Kitty was mewing for. When I went
out to mow the lawn after lunch, there
were at least two kittens locked in the
garage. They didn't seem to be in any
hurry to leave, but Dave saw one go out
while I was mowing, and I haven't seen
anybody in there since.
And I didn't hear anybody mewing
pitifully under our windows last night.
Did hear a cat fight, though.
Light bulb: I could copy my unread
digests en mass to the "out" box, and
thereby be able to delete each message
after reading it. Would be a permanent
delete, though, not tossing it into the
wastebasket where it can be pulled back
out if I change my mind before emptying
the trash.
Heavens! It's trash day, and we
really need to empty the trash.
29 August 1996
Tried an experiment with Erica today:
she has been behaving so much like her old
self that I tried giving her a pill in
cream cheese, then tried putting the
cheese-coated pill in her supper.
Then I crushed the cheesy, cat-foody
pill and put water on it, and she got most
of it. Hate to crush the pill because I'm
never sure the scraps in the dish don't
include most of it. Erica never did like
to chew; even as a kitten, she licked her
food to death. But she didn't mind
crunching chipmunks bones and all!
Do they make chipmunk-flavored chewable
tablets?
Maybe if I made her chase it down first
. . .
I've had a stack of letters on the
printer for days now, waiting for me to
address the envelopes, and two on the disk
waiting for me to print. Every time I sit
down at the computer, I start reading my
back mail.
Grump. Stocked up on groceries today,
intending also to get some paper bags so
that I can throw newspaper and junk mail
away next week, but they were so efficient
that when I turned around after unloading
the cart, my stuff was already bagged in
plastic.
I've taken to landfilling plastic bags
for imaginary defects; they are useful,
but I don't need bushels of them.
2 September 1996
Brought my bookkeeping up to date. I
have eighty-one cents more in my wallet
than Quicken says I have. If I could
figure out how I do that, we could retire.
I'm beginning to conclude that Erica
hates the taste of Glycoflex.
6 September 1996
Thought I had the secret when I coated
a pill with Tender Vittles, but that only
worked once. This morning, noting that
she is walking hunched up again, I
buttered the pill and used the grab-and-
stuff method. She took it rather calmly.
I take Fred and Freida in for shots on
Monday, and will discuss whether Erica
needs FLV shots.
I've been packing away diaries, to get
them out of the linen closet. Found an
account of Fred and Freid's arrival in
1986, so they are just ten years old.
And still my little kittens. Tough to
fatten Erica up when I'm trying to take
lard off Fred & Freida. They've learned
to walk around Erica when she is eating --
if I'm sitting on the kitchen stool
knitting.
I also have to stop Freida from
stealing Fred's food. She eats a great
deal more than he, but he's a much bigger
blob. While she dances on her back feet,
he sits calmly and waits. His favorite
sport is sleeping.
8 September 1996
Pruned the locust tree on Lawrence's
side of the line (with permission). Now
I'm wondering what to do with all the
brush. One limb is big enough to consider
a log.
If we get some drying weather, I'll
burn some of the small stuff around a
poplar (aspen? cottonwood?) stump I want
to get rid of. Can't build much of a
fire, because it's only a yard or two from
some young trees I want to keep.
Called Dave out to spot me, and he did
most of the cutting.
I'm going to have to buy some Fancy
Feast, because Erica seems to like canned
food only when it's freshly opened, and
her weight is alarming. I haven't seen
her eat any Friskies Senior since we got
back.
9 September 1996
Most of the not-too-famous
females on the unimportant stamps preserve
a certain amount of dignity, but on the
three-ouncer, "Alice Paul, Suffragist"
appears to be suffering from a terminal
bellyache.
Perhaps the artist took the wrong
meaning for suffer-age.
I've added whole milk and cream to my
shopping list. May not go today, as I
expect to be pretty well phewed after
taking Fred & Freida in for their shots
this afternoon.
Erica tried to run when she saw the
glycoflex pill this morning. This time I
didn't choke her with it.
In trying to clean out the linen
closet, I've got the Scientific American
straightened out up until June, 1983.
There's an article about zippers in that
issue that ends with speculation about the
future of zippers. One possibility, he
says is to make them smaller and bigger --
followed by examples that require only
cutting chains of a current size shorter
or longer. Then he speculates on airtight
zippers for space suits, and disposable
zippers for paper clothing. An airtight
disposable zipper was developed soon
after, but it's not strong enough for
spacesuits, and I don't think you could
sew it into clothing.
He never even considered the
possibility that food containers might be
closed with zippers. And Zip-Locs were
already in the lab, if not in the grocery
stores.
10 September 1996
Primary day! When I see Wasserman's
ads, I think McNulty must be a pretty fine
fellow, and when I see McNulty's ads, I
think Wasserman must be a pretty fine
fellow. I don't think I'd vote for either
of them even if I were eligible to vote.
12 September 1996
We had an unexpected upgrade to the
computer. Dave has been thinking about it
for quite a while, but when the CD drive
died just as he was beginning the second
disk of his first audio CD (Freeberg's The
United States of America, Part Two) he
decided that the time was now. Much to my
surprise, he brought the computer back
when he came home for lunch today. The
job was supposed to take two days, and he
picked it up when he came home for lunch
yesterday.
The sound card isn't working right, and
the modem won't dial. We're afraid the
latter might have something to do with
dropping it on the floor when I shoved the
printer stand back where it belongs.
I took this opportunity to clean up a
couple of years of dust behind the
"tower". Found a golf ball the kittens
had lost.
I didn't get an error message when I
opened this file, and the windows seem to
work. Tried doing a windows paste right
in the middle of a line, and nothing got
scrambled. The improvements, at least,
haven't re-maladapted PC-Write.
I may have mentioned, when I was
belatedly hunting for tomato plants, that
I bought four cabbage plants at a
clearance. All thrived, but one got
mysteriously broken when the cabbage was
about the size of a baseball. I brought
it in and we ate it. Several days ago I
picked the largest remaining cabbage,
which was bigger than those you buy in the
store. It has been a nuisance in the
fridge ever since, and I'm shopping for a
slaw cutter.
One of the two remaining cracked, so
today I picked both of them -- and the
smaller is much larger than the first.
Cabbage keeps and keeps, but I have
nowhere to keep it.
Oh, yeah, the stump of the cabbage I
cut is making little cabbages.
The tomatoes I bought turned out to be
a very dry, juiceless, paste variety and
now they are starting to PRODUCE. We are,
luckily, getting plenty -- going on more
than plenty -- of eating tomatoes off the
volunteer vine.
I've begun filling empty milk jugs with
water and setting them in the garden,
instead of rinsing them and throwing them
into the recycling bin. Already! I'm not
ready for spring yet.
Did get all of last year's leaves moved
into a compost heap, clearing the tunnel
under the windbreak for this year's crop.
I put a layer of field clippings on the
pile after every layer of leaves, taking
them from a strip that grows so lushly as
to clog the mower. I don't know whether I
removed enough nutrients to slow the
growth any, but it turned out that I had
to re-mow the previous strips each time I
collected more, to keep it from developing
a mohawk-cut next to Lawrence's one-hole
golf course. Keeping it short
does prevent it from clogging the
mower.
I plan one more collection for the
heap, but I don't think I'll mow the whole
field any more this year; all we want is
to keep trees and bushes from getting
established, and mowing in the spring
accomplishes that. Besides, there are
some young milkweed I want to preserve,
and they are hard to see before the mower
hits them.
There aren't any cultivated fields or
pastures near enough that I feel any guilt
at encouraging milkweed.
Didn't give Erk a Glycoflex yesterday,
so I suppose I have to today.
Aunt Kitty is doing her best to take
over the Queen Mother's duties, but hasn't
the experience to make strange cats
behave; I hear fights nearly every night.
She's starting to look like her mother
about the face, but I haven't seen her
disposing her troops yet. The Queen
Mother was a sergeant.
Carried a few more twigs out to the
burning place, and found that the coals I
left around the stump last night had sawed
it off at ground level; leastways, it had
toppled into the ashes. It was quite firm
the last time I kicked it.
So I can start a new spot where the
root that gave rise to that tree sticks
out of the ground. It's about to rot away
on its own, but I have a few more sticks
to dispose of. I'm cutting off the small
stuff and leaves, and leaving the big
pieces to dispose of later.
May hide them under the windbreak and
forget about them. Maybe in a year or
two, split the biggest limb and get the
lathe out again.
13 September 1996
Yesterday, Dave spoke to the guy who
overhauled our computer. Re-installing
the device driver will probably repair the
sound card, and as for the modem -- it's
unplugged. He thought the modem on that
port was internal, so he didn't connect
the cable to the outside connector.
So sometime or another, Dave has to
shut the machine down, remove the case,
and plug in the port.
Tetris is like life: your reward for
doing a good job is that it gets harder.
18 September 1996
SPECIAL EDITION:
I just caught Erica with her face in
the Friskies Senior!
As soon as she's had her fill of the
dry food, I'm going to open a can of
Pacific Salmon Entree.
And lock up Freida.
27 September 1996
Today I became sufficiently alarmed to
take Erica to the vet. She has lost three
of her eleven pounds since the last trip.
Dr. Bull says that she has a very large
paunch for a cat so scrawny, and of the
three or four explanations she could think
of offhand, none had a prognosis of more
than six months. She kept her to run
blood tests and take x-rays, & I'm to pick
her up at 4:20 this afternoon.
Now there's a fully-involved barn fire
at 440 Font Grove Road. Or 491 Font
Grove.
6:20 -- just got back from buying
strained meat.
No fluid in the abdomen; the diagnosis
has been narrowed to bacterial hepatitis
or cancer of the liver. If the former,
the pills she's taking will clear it up.
If the latter -- Sodium Pentothal. Will
call Monday afternoon with the results of
the blood tests; meanwhile, any calorie is
a good calorie -- hence the baby food.
Why didn't I think of putting cat food
through a strainer, instead of trying to
mash it with a spoon?
Seems to still be something going on at
the fire house, but the traffic on the
scanner sounds more like cleaning up than
like fully involved. The Onesquethaw
siren went off just after I passed their
fire house on the way to pick Erica up,
and I hoped that it wasn't mutual aid.
I'd noticed a big truck still in Station
One when I passed it, so had reason to
think it wasn't.
I've half a mind to go down to Station
One and find out what's going on.
After locking Erica into the bedroom
with some strained chicken.
28 September 1996
YEE HAWWW!
Rob Pulleyn of Lark Press wants to see
the rest of Shuttle Solitaire!
Which kinder distracts me from
continuing yesterday's story. A minute or
two after I wrote the above, Dave called
me to bring his jacket to the barn fire.
Fifty tons of hay -- more or less -- and
you can't put hay out. Dave came home
about bed time; I don't know when the rest
left off. When I went out, Glenn said
that he'd been blocking the road since two
o'clock.
On impulse, I served Erica's food in
the demitasse saucers from the dishes Mom
bought to go with her miniature table,
instead of in the little stoneware dessert
dishes I bought for the cats. If I hold a
saucer of milk under her nose patiently
enough, she'll lick up a little -- always
from the merely-wet part around the edges.
Pity I didn't think of saucers sooner.
And a worse pity that I didn't get her
started on antibiotics while she was still
eating. A couple of days might have made
a difference.
Hmm. I think I'll mix a little
strained chicken and milk, and hold it
under her nose. She must have forgiven me
for the pill by now.
I did. She walked over to some
discarded lining material that happened to
be lying on the bed, and threw up. Not
much, but more than she has eaten today.
At least it was a synthetic satin, and
came clean when rubbed with a paper
handkerchief. I left it there in case she
wants to use it again.
30 September 1996
Like brother, like sister. Earl got
his meow back just before that last trip
to the vet, and when I went to pick Erica
up for hers, she had walked all the way
down the stairs, and was sitting on the
sofa.
We buried her by the grapevine, beside
Claude and Earl.
2 October 1996
I finally took the manuscript of
Shuttle Solitaire to the post
office today. Mr. Pulleyn is out of town
for the first three weeks of October, so
it will be a while before I hear the
verdict.
3 October 1996
I never wear skirts that short anyway,
said the fox.
My chore of the day is to send off all
the mail orders I've been thinking about
for weeks: a couple of lacemaking books, a
Rivendale mock-T shirt, four 3.25 mm 47"
knitting needles, and twenty-five yards of
sheeting. I might even pay my ARRL dues.
So I'm reading the Dharma catalog that
came yesterday. There's a "silk charmeuse
play dress" gorgeous enough to make me
want to pay $34 for a slip, if only I
could try it on first and be sure it fits.
Uh-oh. The "Tank dress" is even
better, and it's only $12 -- does my chest
measure 44"?
44 exactly, but I don't need a slip.
All orders sent, and I didn't get
anything else done before noon -- if you
don't count warming up some soup and
laying out bread and meat.
Tried to check my e-mail twice, and got
nowhere. Outgoing won't send, and
incoming says "sorry no new mail" before
it's had time to check. I really, really
don't want to have to notify everybody of
my new address again, but if the mail
server isn't up when I want to use it once
in a while, I'm going to take Dave's side
of this discussion.
Free Agent works. I haven't tried
Netscape.
4 October 1996
From a Knitlist signature:
I know it sounds crazy,
but I don't act my age
like an old desperado
who paints the town beige
Sounds like the end of a poem, but there
was no attribution.
When sending out the orders, I forgot
the order for a custom windbreaker that
has been hanging fire since last march. I
got Dave to measure me a week or three
ago.
7 October 1996
From here, the Jerusalem artichokes
don't appear to have been damaged by the
frost, but before our first frost, they
looked like a bed of ornamental
sunflowers, and now they don't. The
blossoms on the stems that fell over the
tomatoes are still large and bright.
(I've been using those stems to support
the weight of the blankets.)
I forgot to go out last night, but it
appears that the fog came in soon enough
to save me.
I ought to go to the Salvation Army
store and see whether I can find another
all-polyester mattress pad. I've one
that's non-woven interfacing "quilted"
with hot needles to a very thin batt; it's
light and stiff and the dew dries off it
quickly. Much easier to use than the
other old bedding, and WAY AHEAD of the
tarp.
8 October 1996
Dug the last of the brown-skinned
potatoes yesterday, and two big red ones.
The reds didn't do as well as the brown,
though they seem to have divided their
efforts less -- there were a lot of bite-
size brown potatoes -- so I should get
them all eaten before it becomes
impossible to dig.
Looking for file folders -- I'm
sure we had a whole box -- Dave
found some obsolete NSVFD envelopes, so
you'll all be getting the banner in yellow
Certificate Royale for a while. Box
claims it's "tan".
9 October 1996
Sigh. I was looking forward to going
to Woods Hole this December, but Karen
called yesterday to say that Bill was so
busy running for office that he forgot to
advertise it, and it's extremely unlikely
to come off. Might be re-scheduled for
the school's spring break. (We used the
dorms during the Thanksgiving break last
year.)
She also said that the local elections
are over in Massachusetts, and Bill was
lucky enough to lose despite diligent
effort. She never saw such a happy losing
candidate!
He offered to read anything sent to
him, but what I was looking forward to was
hanging out with folks who discuss instead
of cuss.
Even the net is cluttered with folks
who break into tears and call you names
whenever you say anything other than "Like
wow, I love you man." Not as common as in
the eyeball QSO, though, perhaps because
it is so easy to filter their whines
directly to the trash.
Have I mentioned that the woman who
encouraged me to submit "Solitaire" to
Lark, has successfully defended her thesis
for a PhD in ancient literature? From a
KnitList post:
> on Nov. 11, I will be "Dr. Avital
Kobayashi Pinnick." I can't help you with
your back problems but if you're stumped
by a knitting pattern written in ancient
Greek, drop me a line. :)
I didn't realize that there was a
waiting period for degrees to become
official.
Did a triple take, when I realized that
whether it's a holiday or not, Nov. 11 is
an even more important date in Europe than
in America -- then wondered whether it was
particularly remembered in israel, or just
history like 1492 and 1066.
Arachne
I've been reading Anne Perry's The
sins of the Wolf. I may not finish
it. You recall that I complained that her
Victorian novels were amusing at first,
but it got a bit wearing that every last
murder was done to conceal some Victorian
family's Victorian secret. The
paterfamilias was a drag queen, or had
starved his late wife; the respectable
doctor did abortions... singly, good; en
mass, they make one long for the
traditional greedy heir.
In Wolf, her solution to this
boredom is to uncover secret after secret,
like circus clowns popping out of a tiny
car. The late patriarch died of syphilis,
which so disgusted his wife that all his
children are bastards by his brother, who
has degenerated from a noble soldier to a
parasitic drunk, for reasons yet to be
revealed. The patriarch was also a
counterfeiter, and one of the sons-in-law
has been taken into the family to replace
him as engraver, all unknown to anyone but
himself and the oldest son, who is also
taking bribes to dismiss cases he ought to
prosecute. The patriarch built a secret
room in the family printing house for his
counterfeiting. (At least some
of the secrets were related.)
The other live-in son-in-law is an ex-
con who is buying an old cell mate's
silence by letting him live rent-free on a
croft belonging to the matriarch. I think
he is the same one who is stealing books
from the family firm to give to the
youngest daughter, whom he not-so-secretly
loves. She was given in marriage to buy
the bank-note engraver, and is sneaking
out at night to teach poor people how to
read. A daughter-in-law sneaks out at
night to build an airplane; her belief in
"flying machines" would consign her to the
madhouse if revealed.
The youngest son paid for his
unsuitable mistress by embezzling money
from the printing firm. His mother repaid
it to keep the other children from
knowing, and cut him out of her will with
the comment that he knew why, and would
not object.
Just where the daughter and son-in-law
in London come into this, I don't know,
save that the matriarch was murdered on
her way to visit them.
I'm looking for a mystery publisher who
outlaws murder as the crime to be solved.
This might inspire some originality.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
11 October 1996
This morning Dave looked into the spare
room to check on Erk. Last night, I tried
to get three little ironstone dishes out
of the cupboard.
Fred has stopped looking. Freida
didn't seem to notice, save for sniffing
at the coffin while we selected a spade.
We took her out of the box she came
home in, & used the cat-furry wool rag off
the pile of blankets as a shroud.
Arachne
I dropped off the half-read Sins of
the Wolf when I went to the library to
pick up Barber's Primitive
Textiles. I'm hardly past the
introduction, and already I've learned a
great deal. It has always been obvious to
needleworkers that wool was the first
fiber spun -- but in every culture, a bast
fiber was the first fiber used. Once the
archaeological evidence became clear, it's
obvious: bast fibers are long enough to
use the way you peel them out of the
plant, and though the preparation method
is complex, it doesn't call for any
special tools; once you realize that there
is fiber in a stem, it won't take many
generations to perfect the art of getting
it out.
Since wool was no use in Egypt, the old
method of splicing fibers end-to-end and
then twisting them persisted long enough
to be well documented.
The oldest synthetic fiber isn't nylon
nor yet rayon, it's wool. The hair
of the ancestral sheep is almost useless.
I had had the impression that thigh
spinning had persisted as late as ancient
greece, but the thigh-shields I'd heard
about were used with high-whorl drop
spindles.
Thigh spinning, incidentally, still
persists for special uses; someone -- I
think it was on FiberNet -- mentioned
casually that she had thigh-spun a few
yards of yarn to test the quality of the
fiber she was discussing.
I recall reading that thigh spinning
can be very efficient; the spinner can
spin two or more yarns simultaneously, and
ply them on the backstroke.
I'm also reading How to be your own
Literary Agent, by Richard Curtis.
Dave found it while searching the Web for
"agent," ordered it from Amazon Books, and
it came yesterday. Seems quite sensible
so far. The sad news: for a first book,
an agent won't help much, except that
threatening to get one may be a strategic
ploy in negotiation. Unless you're
famous, the instinct to accept almost any
terms is almost sensible.
The book also says that an advance of
less than $5,000 is a poor deal. That
seemed like a lot of money to me until I
worked out how much it is per hour.
Other sad news: the author commented
that his numbers are almost unchanged from
the previous edition; allowing for
inflation, the pay for authors is half
what it used to be.
The last time I checked, Analog was
still paying 5/word. And was the
top-paying market. That must have
changed, because Analog is still printing
good stories.
Though an unseemly percentage of them
are recycled novels.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
13 October 1996
Finally got around to testing the
"Ohio" bodice pattern. Couldn't remember
where I'd stashed the cheap print I meant
to use, so I cut up a sun-rotted curtain I
found while hunting for the other.
And wouldn't you know, the pattern fits
well enough right out of the box that if
I'd used decent fabric, I could put a
skirt on it and wear it.
But it definitely needs a dart. Got
exhausted trying to figure out how to add
it, then sent off for a different pattern,
size M instead of L this time --figure I
should go by the back length in the old-
fashioned way, and adjust the waist and
bust. The bodice is much too wide between
armhole-seams, and I've never had any luck
with making shoulders narrower.
After a nap, I realized that the bodice
has a dart, namely a pleat that I
didn't sew in because it hung right
without. (Gotta start getting more
exercise!) So what I need is to slash
from an upper corner to the dart, and make
the corner just enough less acute to open
an inch at the high point. This will make
the dart monstrous, so I should slash
again at the side seam and open a new dart
by partly-closing the existing dart.
Which would still be sewn on the bias.
Main reason for sending for a new pattern
is that it's a pain to cut the front and
back on the bias. But I'm hanging onto
the "Ohio" pattern, which should work fine
for knits cut on the straight.
Got a surprise. The sleeve is so
enormously wide at the top that my widest
shelf paper was too narrow, and I had to
use a sheet of the Daily Gazette. I
figured that I'd have to gather the cap
into the armhole, but it doesn't even need
to be eased! It was so easy to set in the
sleeve that I'm tempted to transfer the
armhole to a pattern cut on the straight
grain. But it seems to fit quite well on
the drop shoulder, which might imply that
it wouldn't fit if not dropped -- and I
Don't Like Dropped Shoulders. But the
catalog says that L is for wider shoulders
than mine.
This was a "Friends" pattern; the
description is in the catalog; the
envelope has a list of all their patterns,
with a highlight through the one you've
bought. The patterns appear to be
blueprinted onto very large sheets of
heavy paper, and it's necessary to copy
them onto something thinner to use them.
So I put the "Ohio" pattern away, found
all the black denim, and sorted out the
appropriate pieces of my broadfall
pattern. Been time to make pants for a
long time -- my blue denims ought to be
relegated to mowing poison ivy, and the
black denims are starting to lighten along
the seams.
I think that I can repair the damage
Freida did well enough to wear my black
polyester-wool again on casual occasions,
but I still need a pair of dining-out
britches -- I spilled barbecue sauce on my
gray pants yesterday, and had to run an
emergency load of wash today, as I've
nothing else to wear on non-denim
occasions.
The great difficulty in making less-
casual pants is buying the fabric; nobody
else is making slacks, it seems, so all
the wool is fluffy, and dry-clean only.
There doesn't seem to be any prospect of
persuading Freida not to sit on my lap, so
I don't want any more polyester. Acrylic
doesn't wear well, and doesn't seem to be
any more available than wool.
I've also been thinking of making a
pair of something like nylon taffeta, and
adding pleats in front to make them loose
enough to wear over thick underwear.
I desperately need a good reason to
ride my bike to Delmar. Don't even need
to go to Super Valu, as I bought milk
yesterday, and have tomorrow's supper
planned.
14 October 1996
Got a start on cutting my jeans -- the
bull denim is crooked, and absolutely
impossible to straighten. Dave tried to
help, but doesn't understand what's going
on, so he didn't put enough energy into
it. By the time I got the front and back
cut out, I was too tired to cut the
pockets and waistband.
I really ought to get a folding table
to work on; I'm too old to crawl around on
the floor.
On the other hand, I've remembered
buying several yards of a dressy, solid-
black fabric at the thrift shop last
summer, so I don't have to hunt for non-
denim fabric.
16 October 1996
My 25 yd of 90" sheeting arrived today.
Having learned from the fifty yards of
Osnaburg, I unrolled it on the lawn to
make sure it's all in one piece. It is
not the same muslin as the sample. The
first piece had usable sheet-type
selvedges; both selvedges of this piece
are fringed, and one selvedge wobbles.
I'd like to see the loom; the narrowings
seem to be fewer warp threads, not warp
threads packed closer together, and I
can't see how it could have been cut. A
serger could have left a finished edge
like that, but not with a fringe sticking
through it.
Assuming that the wobbly edge can be
torn straight, it isn't an inconvenience.
I'm making the sheets 90" long and three
yards wide, so I have to hem all four
edges anyhow.
But with the first piece, I used the
selvedge to save turning the raw edge
under. At six-plus yards of top hem per
sheet, that could add up. (I put two top
hems on my sheets, so that they can be
used with either end at the foot.)
I gave brief thought to shrinking the
whole piece in the Big Boy at the
laundromat, then tore off an exact yard
and put it in the washer to soak
overnight, together with some dingy
dishtowels. When I see how long it is
when it comes out, I'll know how long a
piece to tear off to make a sheet.
I had intended to make pillowcases with
some of the sheeting anyhow; I don't have
many more than enough, and most of them
are nearly worn out.
90" is awkward for the purpose: what do
I do with the 10" strip left? It's too
big to throw out, and I have an ample
supply of pieces of muslin too small to
make into pillowcases. [Ten inches may
well be barely enough to correct the
selvedges; on closer inspection, I believe
the warp threads do follow the
wobbles.)
I looked up "selvedge," and "selvage"
is the preferred spelling -- but it looks
funny.
I wonder whether patchwork came to us
from Scandinavia? In reading "Primitive
Textiles", I've gotten to the introduction
of the warp-weighted loom to a northern
area with a long history of sewing pelts
and felts. As least that is how Barber
interprets gorgeous embroidery on wobbly
fabric. This is also the first mention of
color patterns made by sewing small pieces
together, and she speculates that
patchwork came naturally to people
accustomed to working with skins, which
come in short lengths and inconvenient
shapes.
At the time of writing, warp-weighted
looms were still in use in the back woods
of northern Europe, mostly for making
heavy bed covers. A warp-weighted loom
can weave a very wide fabric -- depends
only on the length of the beam, which can
be something found holding up the house --
and when not in use, it's only a few
sticks, and a pile of rocks that can be
stashed anywhere.
Our modern floor loom is descended from
a vertical two-beam loom that first
appeared in an area where warp-weighted
looms and ground looms overlapped.
17 October 1996
Got the needles yesterday, and found my
books in today's mail. Can the shirts be
far behind? I doubt that Marthe Hesse can
make my new pants quite so fast, but I
should hear from her pretty soon.
I bought a $3.99 watch on my way back
from the Salvation Army Store on Columbus
day, and a baton of "poster paper" -- five
yards of 30" shelf paper.
Alas, the S.A. gets so many
contributions that they throw out
everything that isn't perfect, so there
weren't any tomato covers. I invested
$0.27 in a skein of Meadowspun and two and
a half ounces of Red Heart knitting
worsted.
Since Meadowspun is half nylon, I like
it for stocking heels. I have plenty, but
it isn't being made any more, so it seemed
foolish to leave it.
If I had someone to teach, I'd have
taken the mystery-fiber variegated yarn.
It's easier for a beginner to see what
he's doing when the new and old stitches
are different colors. I have
been keeping references to textbooks, but
haven't been taking the idea of holding
classes seriously.
Except for a minute or two each year
when I get the high school's continuing-
education ads. But I don't think that
they pay the teachers; most seem to be
local business owners.
The latest you-can't-escape-it news is
that Bob Dole has decided to attack
Clinton's character. That should work
about as well as taking aim at a frog's
wings.
??? The wobbly selvage straightened
out in the wash; if the fringes weren't
different widths, I'd have no way to tell
which was which. If it was varying
tension in the weft, the short threads
would still be short after washing, and
might even shrink more than weft woven
more loosely. So it had to happen after
weaving -- and there are no pull marks.
Started assembling my new pants today,
and decided to make a poncho from part of
the fuzzy black wool. Don't know what to
bind the neck with; cotton is cold,
synthetics are clammy, silk is expensive -
- and unobtainable; blanket-stitch with
embroidery wool is tedious, wool flannel
is weak and still too thick, . . .
18 October 1996
Would have begun seaming the pants
today, but what I thought was a smear of
dust proved -- after I'd appliqud
some tape and a pocket to the piece -- to
be an abrasion that had scraped the black
warp threads off the white weft. It was
only a pocket & I have plenty of scraps,
but nothing could proceed until I cut a
new one, and I have yet to hem & appliqu it. I'm hemming with a fresh piece
of twill tape, but I had to rip off the
pocket.
And yes, there are pockets on my
pockets. Each side pocket sports a patch
pocket, usually just big enough to take a
passport or a folded bill, but this time I
experimented by making it as large as I
could without catching the smaller pocket
in the seam too.
Whilst postponing the re-cutting, I
tore out and sewed up the pillowcases, but
the hems were only pinned when Dave came
home and distracted my attention.
Also calculated that I need three yards
and thirteen inches to make a sheet, tore
two sheet pieces, basted the raw edges of
each in a temporary seam, and put them in
the washer to soak. Fun turning the seams
to the insides of the tubes: I got right
inside to grasp the far side and pull it
through. I'd planned to hem before
washing, but the wobbly selvage must be
straightened first. Could have put in the
narrow side hems. (Fine time to think of
that!)
Had to drag (literally!) the remaining
seventeen yards down to the living-room to
re-fold it, and have yet to wrestle it
back up the stairs and put it in the big
drawer under -- sorry to say, it's not the
rest of my stash; there are also
lengths on hangers in the closet, hanging
from the light fixture in the sewing room,
in the spare-room closet, and hanging on
the door. But the two hangers on the door
are current, so to speak: scraps from the
pants, and the piece I tore off the fuzzy
wool to make into a poncho.
I might up and call that a shawl the
way it is.
But I don't need a shawl, and I do need
a poncho.
19 October 1996
Dave got the music CD he ordered today.
I did up the side seams on my pants.
Nothing much else; gloomy dark & wet day.
I hung the sheeting in the cellar to dry.
Didn't get into turning the seams back to
the outside -- just followed the seam down
with my hands until all was out.
The pizza of the week was "hearty meat"
-- every meat in the place except bacon, I
think.
20 October 1996
Despite a protracted contretemps caused
by turning the tension up instead of down
before stitching in easing threads, my new
pants are down to the finishing: turn and
stitch the waistbands, hem the legs, sew
on hooks and eyes.
(Sigh. Both my old denims also need
lots and lots of eyes, and the ragged pair
also needs a hook.)
I found two selvage scraps from a piece
of cheap red-plaid cotton flannel that I
made into a scarf to keep in the car. The
"flannel" is no thicker than stout muslin,
so I decided to use it instead of twill
tape to cover the raw edges of the hems.
Should be rather festive when I turn up
cuffs when I'm barefoot. (Pants cut to
fit while shod tickle my feet.)
I had pizza for lunch and supper, and
there's a slice left. "Hearty Meat" pizza
goes a long way.
Finally got to see an episode of
"Babylon Five"; a lot seems to have
happened since I last checked in.
Not a lot happened in "And the Rock
Cried out, No Hiding Place", except that
Sheridan finally kissed Delenn, and Vir's
last illusion about Londo was dispelled.
Made me appreciate the death of Talia
Winters, though -- there've been lots of
complaints on the net that it was random,
and all the threads she had started left
unfollowed. Just like real life. Well,
too many "authors" think that you can be
realistic just by copying down what really
happens, so I don't want to go on too much
about that part of it -- but when G'kar
appeared to be walking into a trap, I
honestly worried that he might not escape
it. Had JMS not demonstrated that he's
willing to off a major character without
following up all the hints and portents
first, there would have been about as much
suspense to the story as there is in
Gilligan's Island.
21 October 1996
I may have to speak to the postmaster.
Found an AT&T bill addressed to Margie in
today's mail, and when I put it in Danny's
box, I found a Haband ad addressed to
Dave.
And they are always bringing stuff
addressed to the firehouse here. Heaven
knows where what is going.
25 October 1996
It's been gloomy so long that when I
saw a light in the living room, I tried to
switch off the sun.
Spent the whole morning playing with
the copy of "Top Draw" that I downloaded a
few days ago, and have two diagrams that
are almost printable, of medallions that
are actually in the book.
Dave said I was spaced out and
suggested that I do something else in the
afternoon. I told him I was just getting
it figured out.
Doesn't appear to be any way to add
another page when you fill one up, but I
had reached a natural joint about the time
I ran out of "paper".
Cute: whenever you print, it adds
"created with an unregistered copy of Top
Draw" at the bottom. Hope the registered
version doesn't add stuff to your
creations.
It will enlarge and reduce stuff when
you print it; that is handy -- especially
since I'm creating the diagrams at twice
life size, with the intention of reducing
them on a photocopier.
But when it prints a reduction, it
centers it on the paper. May be a way to
vary that.
27 October 1996
It was half an hour before time to feed
the cats, but because of the time shift,
Fred thought it was half an hour after.
He circled my feet while I trotted back
and forth in the kitchen until I stopped &
said "Okay! Okay! I'll feed the kittens!"
Thump thrump thrump thrump thrump --
streaking Frieda!
I suspect that this wasn't the first
time I said that.
28 October 1996
Accidentally discovered that one can
move the center of rotation; makes the job
much easier. But how does one draw mirror
images? Making two halves and gluing them
together isn't satisfactory -- editing
them after you see how they look together
leads to a lot of iteration for a merely
approximate result.
Maybe I should send off for the manual.
2 November 1996
Rode my bike to Delmar Tuesday. Didn't
find anything on my list, but got a pen
for my purse at the drug store, and picked
up a bottle cage for the lawn mower at
Steiner's. Didn't notice that it was
Avenir until I was unpacking it. I've had
Avenir gloves, shoes, and hat and hated
all of them. Got rid of the gloves and
shoes, but I'm stuck with the hat, as
nobody makes anything any better.
Legs came through fine, but I
definitely need to use the dumbells once
in a while; nearly totaled my forearms.
Wednesday morning, Dave found one of
Danny's cats out by the road when he went
for the paper. The more I think about it,
the more it looked like the surviving
queen; now the pride is motherless.
Haven't see Danny since the accident --but
I haven't seen the queen regent either.
She hadn't had time to learn the job
herself, let alone teach one of the
kittens how it's done.
Thursday, we had an open house at
Station One to celebrate our fiftieth year
and wet down the new tanker. Good crowd,
but I think more were from other fire
companies than from our clientele. I also
suspect that the pumpers from
Voorheesville and Onesquethaw were aiming
at each other instead of our tanker!
Went well, I guess. there was barely
enough food left to show that we'd
supplied enough.
Lacking a dress uniform, I wore a long
print skirt, black cotton turtleneck, and
pearls. The other non-marchers wore blue
jeans and their red jackets. (Mine was in
the car!)
Spotted Dave by his red jacket Friday
morning. We took the Jeep to Langan's
Motor Car to be serviced, me driving the
Saab so Dave could come home again. He
was on a high point looking for me; I was
asking in the service department.
Some delay in picking it up that
afternoon, and I had nothing but a bit of
idiot cord, and an even more boring
drawstring for a bootie, in my purse.
Finished the idiot cord & string, and
started its mate -- even more delay
because it turned out that the part they'd
repaired flunked the highway test, so we
have to go back when they get a rear-
wheel sensor. Meanwhile, I've got an
alarming light on my dashboard; hope I
don't learn to ignore alarming lights.
Some previous owner had removed all the
bulbs from the warning lights instead of
repairing the sensors! Brakes were in
serious need of repair. Should be safe to
drive it now.
I'm planning to clean out the freezer
today. I've been planning to do it
"tomorrow" for months; we shall see
whether I follow through.
Maybe I should go do a few wrist curls
first. I need two sets of dumbells, as
curls should be done with twice as much
weight as extensions to keep your wrists
in balance.
Hmm. I think I can get to the
sporting-goods store direct from the
parking lot, without braving the noxious
music in Crossgate's halls.
Well, cleaning the freezer went well --
up to a point. It turned out that
everything that absolutely had to stay
frozen would fit into the upstairs
freezer, after I removed a boxful of dried
bread, flour, and the like. Most of the
rest fit nicely into a large eskie, with a
boxful of dried catnip and a few other
herbs left over. Thawing the frost off
was tedious but straightforward; the last
two slabs came off fervently embracing a
cardboard box I hadn't been able to remove
earlier, and I hauled the assembly up the
outside cellar steps and left it in the
sun to thaw.
Then I attempted to let the dirty water
out. I turned and turned and turned the
plug, but it doesn't unscrew. It also
doesn't pry. I hope Dave comes home
before I resort to a chisel.
Turned out to be a cork; he pulled it
with pliers. The kittens were fascinated
by the frost I threw out on the lawn. I
threw most of it into the corner to melt
into the gutter, but carried a couple of
the largest pieces outside after dumping
the box on the lawn.
Probably just as well they called
Voorheesville by mistake; the gas tank on
the back porch, judging by the scanner
traffic, and the way the trucks going by
are using both the sirens and the air
horns, is developing into something
serious.
Just heard the words "fully involved
structure fire." They are having a second
ambulance crew stand by in quarters, but
they said that everybody got out and is
across the street with the neighbors.
4 November 1996
The boys saved the bigger half of the
house. Needs a new roof and attic.
If they buy another gas grill, I bet
they store it in a shed.
Nobody brought the boys soda. Current
chief refuses to ask -- and one of the
times that the girls did show up
uninvited, he said the scene was too dirty
for females and sent them back to the
firehouse.
Yesterday I watched the Star Trek TNG
episode that WXXA cancelled a pivotal
episode of Babylon Five in favor of, and
discovered it was a re-run! And not a
distinguished episode either; just another
run of newbie added to crew so you can
knock somebody off without firing an actor
you have a season contract with. Or maybe
the death was thrown in so they wouldn't
have to explain why she isn't around in
next week's episode.
Did get my little bags for the six
colors of yarn in my stranded stockings
very nearly straightened out. I believe
that I have just one drawstring to go, and
I've been twisting Speed-Cro-Sheen for
that, which doesn't take long if I don't
drop the prospective string and let it
snap into snarls.
It's easier with your shoes off.
Knitted what I thought was Knit-Cro-
Sheen for the last one (getting spaced
out, perhaps?). As if that weren't
enough, I think the thread is actually
#20. Wonderfully cobwebby texture, like
an invisible hairnet. I worked long
throws to make the requisite see-through
patches, so it worked up reasonably soon.
I was using #4 needles, so it isn't
very opaque anywhere. Wrapped the needle
three times per stitch for the first panel
of long stitches; for the second, I worked
two overs after each stitch instead. The
polywraps were slightly easier to knit up
in the following round, but the overs were
a whole bunch easier to make.
Surprisingly, the second round after the
long-stitch round was the hardest to knit.
Easier after I thought of pulling the bag
down at intervals to straighten the long
stitches into providing some resistance.
Now I've got to number the colors, so I
won't confuse the three shades of ecru.
There are two that I can distinguish only
by the strings that I tied to them when I
removed the labels.
I knew I should have bought a package
of the string tags I saw at Woolworth's.
Some of the freezer frost is still out
on the lawn. All of the snow that was on
the ground yesterday morning is long gone,
however.
6 November 1996
Spent all day yesterday getting my
teeth worked on. Had an appointment at
10:15 for cleaning. Spent from breakfast
until time to leave getting dressed and
finishing up the organization of my sock
so that I could knit while waiting my
turn. Knitted one needle & un-knitted
half of it before time to go in. They
found a cavity, so I made another
appointment for 2:15 that afternoon,
quickly postponed by fifteen minutes for
reasons not specified. On the way out the
door, I realized I'd finally done it: I
was going to see the dentist at "tooth-
hurty"! Alas, there were no small
children about, & I was pretty sure the
receptionist had heard it.
I eat lunch at 11:00 and haven't
adapted to the Semi-Annual Time-Jerk yet,
so I'd planned to buy something at Super
Valu, but decided to wait fifteen minutes
and eat in comfort at home. Then I
decided that I'd better vote before
leaving the village. (Everything that I
voted against won.) Since I ride past the
library to get from the dentist's office
to the firehouse, I stopped there too --
but >Knitting in America wasn't in
Forthcoming Books -- I checked BIP
first, even though that copy of BIP has
been in the library since long before K
in A was released.
They have moved BIP to the reference
wall -- it had been on a desk where you
could sit down to consult it. The blank
spaces in the new layout strongly suggest
that they have been throwing books away
again.
Took a blank request card, voted, &
came home. Found Dave eating lunch, fed
myself, found that I had precisely an hour
to nap, & set the timer. I had just
enough time before hopping back on the
bike to use Eudora's pitiful excuse for a
search function to find the author of the
book -- no publisher or ISBN mentioned in
my correspondence, as far as Eudora could
tell. Dropped the card off on my way home
& took a glance at the magazines, looking
for the garden magazine that Workbasket's
publishers are filling out unexpired
subscriptions with, having read on
Fibernet or Arachne that there was a
tatting pattern in it. Couldn't remember
the title, and it is no longer in the
Workbasket slot.
Dave got home before I'd finished
reading the mail, so I fed him -- a steak
I'd planned to serve on Monday, which is
another story -- and vegged out the rest
of the evening.
I'm still tired this morning. Should
be darning -- lying in Ellenbogen's chair
with my feet before my face, I noticed a
frayed spot inside the left knee of my
tights. Since I'd felt a trifle cool in
the morning, and knew it would be pushing
sunset before I returned, I changed into
my heavier pair for the second ride -- and
while in the chair, noticed a picked place
in exactly the same spot. I can't find
anything rough on the bike, but there must
be something.
It was a shallow cavity, by the way; no
novacaine, and it didn't hurt as much as
the cleaning did -- on average. I didn't
like having a metal band wrapped around
the tooth and jammed down into the gum.
Afterward, I was more sore on the other
side, where my bridge had complicated the
cleaning. He used the new ultra-violet
setting filler; it was hard and ready to
go as soon as he got his stuff out of my
mouth.
I must get around to going to
Guilderland to buy toothpaste; the stuff
Dave uses is vile, and I tend to skip
brushing. The saccharine is so lingering
that I shall have to throw away the
toothbrush that I've used with it.
Water Haul:
After supper, we drove Dave's car to
New Salem Garage because it had an
appointment in the morning. When we got
home, an idler pulley fell off my fan
belt, so Dave cancelled the Saab's
appointment, hitched a ride to the truck
committee meeting, and plans to come back
by way of the garage and pick up his own
car.
I wonder what else is almost worn out?
I should be glad it fell off in our own
driveway, I suppose. Dave was trying to
track down the source of an alarming noise
at the time. If you think the noise was
alarming before the bearing fell
apart . . .
I wondered how I'd get the car to
Langan's, but Dave says that he can find a
pulley and install it himself. Seems to
be a simple matter of sliding it onto the
shaft and tightening the bolt. I could
probably do it if I had the right pulley.
And the right wrench.
8 November 1996
Dave can't do it -- not without
removing the fan belt, and with the idler
in place, you can't get the belt back on.
He may ask Keith to drop in.
I looked out the window one day to see
a rosette of little gray tails under my
water faucet. I found a gallon and a half
of weak beef stock when I cleaned out the
freezer, and have been keeping a soup
plate filled. I'm down to the last half-
gallon jar now; I wonder how long they'll
keep checking out the flower bed after
it's gone?
9 November 1996
There's another rosette of gray tails
out there -- just put out a fresh batch of
beef stock. There isn't room for six
kitten heads in that dish, but there's
plenty for the latecomers.
Yup. Only one kitty left, and nearly
half the stock.
Dave made a pusher tool yesterday, and
this morning succeeded in getting the
idler back on. Told me to ask the
mechanic to check the tension when he
installs the sensor -- and made sure I
knew how to answer the radio before he
drove off in it.
*SIGH*. Just checked the TV guide to
make sure I had the recorder set right --
and realized that Star Trek re-runs are
now the regular show on WXXA at 4:00 on
Saturdays. Babylon Five may still be on
the cable somewhere -- but it took me six
months to stumble onto WXXA, and I haven't
learned any new search methods in the
meantime. TV guides assume that you want
to know what's on a given channel at a
given time, but aren't interested in any
particular shows.
The reviews on Lurker's Guide say that
I'm missing some hum-dingers -- such as
Sheridan's leap into a hole two miles
deep, just as the city explodes; what was
that all about?
Axshewallly, it seems to me that you'd
be more likely to survive a two-mile fall
than a two-story fall.
10 November 1996
I found Babylon Five already!
According to this morning's paper's TV
guide, it's WXXA at five AM on Saturdays.
Evening: we dropped the Saab off at New
Salem Garage again. Dave said "We've got
this far before."
The Jeep is quieter than it's
ever been. All you can hear is
the speedometer cable. Also noticed that
the heater controls now light up. That
must have been one of the bulbs missing
from my dashboard.
12 November 1996
Another thin film of snow this morning,
and flakes in the air.
My neighbors raked up bags and bags of
leaves and landfilled them, but most of
mine blew away. That little preliminary
pile that I collected when they first
started to fall is going to be my entire
haul this year.
I will mow again, if we get a clear,
dry day before winter sets in -- and if
I'm not feeling under the weather on that
one day. But it should be well into
December, or maybe January, before I'm as
sick as I was the day Danny's lawnmowers
got rid of all the pine needles I'd been
hoping to grab for the blueberries; I've
been running about sixty days to the month
lately.
With the time-change, it's almost
sunset when I get up from my after-lunch
nap, so mornings are all there is for yard
work now.
13 November 1996
Snowed again last night. Two of
Danny's kittens are in the driveway saying
"What is this stuff?
The sun hasn't been up long, but it's
already beginning to melt.
Finally got around to finishing my new
pants, and wore them to the grocery after
Dave brought the Jeep home last night.
Meant to go by bike, but it was very
windy, and sometimes snowing.
Besides, it had been so long since the
last trip to the grocery that I filled the
back of the Jeep clear up. (That did
include Dave's turnouts, and some pillows
and stuff I didn't take out before turning
it over to him.)
They are waiting for a part for the
transmission. Hope his comes in before
mine does!
16 November 1996
Dug the last of the potatoes yesterday
morning. Since many of them were already
frozen, I didn't stop until they were all
in the fridge, and in the afternoon, my
left arm ached so much that I didn't want
to sew.
Got the side seams in my new smock sewn
& pressed anyway, but didn't try it on
until today. Seems to fit well, but the
neckline is too low in the back, and the
slit in the front wants to overlap.
It looks like a maternity top. Didn't
help any that I was wearing my new bra. I
bought it last summer, but it made me itch
so bad that it was less than an hour
before I couldn't stand it any longer. I
washed it, thinking it might be the
finish, rather than the fabric, but didn't
try again until today. The itchy did wash
out, but it molds me into unnatural
points. "Madonna" doesn't look that bad!
When I changed to go to Yan's, I put on
one of the old shabby bras that don't fit
very well.
I'm testing the pattern with black-
yellow-green-and-red polyester, or maybe
polycotton, that used to be a very ugly
pair of curtains. There is quite a lot of
it left; I may have a rather splashy
wardrobe by the time I get the pattern
refined!
I've selected another piece to make a
poncho shirt to wear over a black mock
turtleneck. Perhaps I should use the same
stuff to make waistbands and pockets for
the wool pants I have in mind!
As if cabbage roses weren't enough, I
don't much like the feel of it, and I
suspect the fabric of containing cotton.
(Once drenched, twice shy; I don't want no
cotton in my wool pants.)
I'd better ride my little bike to
Beyond the Tollgate Fabrics on Monday.
Could get some milk on the way back --
Dave's car is going back to the garage
tomorrow night; he doesn't like the way
they repaired it.
Still no word on the sensor for mine.
I plan not to nag until the Saab is
settled, though I could easily drop Dave
off at work, take my knitting to Langan's,
then leave the Jeep at R&P and ride my
bike home.
Watched Babylon Five after coming home
from Yan's. Interim episode, 100% cliff-
hanger. Like a Burroughs adventure, but I
don't think ERB ever had four trails going
at once. Five, if you count Marcus.
And then there is the little matter of
Intergalactic War II in the background.
Lurker's Guide says that there may be a
spin-off series about the Rangers, to
begin when B5 starts over as a daily.
It will still take a whole year to tell
the story. Is this the first Maxi-series?
17 November 1996
We left Dave's car in New Salem
Garage's parking lot, dripping
transmission fluid. I was still dressed
in tights, having ridden my bike to
Stewart's for milk. Been a long time
since I bought Stewart's milk, but I don't
like to visit a supermarket on a Sunday.
Found that I had an almost-filled milk
card, so I bought three halves to finish
it, even though I'd dropped my intentions
from four halves to two upon noticing that
Stewart's skim is "protein enhanced".
The library is open from one to five on
Sunday afternoons now. When we first came
here, they closed when the librarian went
home for meals.
That was inconvenient; better
to have shorter hours than to have hours
with a gap in them; somehow, it's almost
impossible to miss the hole.
20 November 1996
Egad. Headline says Japanese official
resigned because he'd been accused of
taking hundreds of thousands of dollars in
bribes. First thought was that if he's
guilty, he can retire.
The story said that the alleged bribe
consisted of the use of a car, and
membership in a golf club.
If I ever go to Japan, I hope somebody
else is picking up the bill!
23 November 1996
You learn the strangest things on the
Internet. Latest datum, from Arachne (the
Lace List): there's a spider on the one-
dollar bill. He's very small and blurry -
-a strong magnifying glass is needed --
and he's hiding behind the upper left
corner of the cartouche around the "1" in
the upper right corner.
That filigree is right pretty when
examined closely!
25 November 1996
Our first day of winter driving today.
27 November 1996
This afternoon, I finally
remembered to take the five jars of
leftover strained meat to the library --
to discover that they had already closed
for Thanksgiving.
And I suppose that one of the things
they will do while it's closed is to haul
the collection of food to where-ever it's
going, and get rid of the box.
I did buy pie and ice cream. Went to
Indian ladder first, in case SV was out of
pumpkin, and paid $1.60 for a "quart" of
two Mutsu apples.
The larger one weighs more than a
pound, though.
Then went to Super Valu for ice cream
and found that their pies were half the
price, and looked just as good. Thought
for a while there that I wasn't going to
be able to find vanilla. Was having
visions of dipping on the vanilla end of
Neapolitan.
I haven't plotted tomorrow's menu
beyond turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes,
pie, and ice cream. I made cranberry
sauce a few days ago, and will probably
put some on the table just for pretty.
Dilemma: my prettiest tablecloth
clashes with my best dishes.
28 November 1996
Thought this morning's paper was
Sunday-thick, but by the time I picked out
all the ads, it was weekday size. I guess
that for newspapers, as for retail
merchants, Thanksgiving is a harvest
festival.
2 December 1996
Spent the whole day tatting a small
motif. Made mistakes the first time, and
had to do it over. I'm going to enclose
it in a letter to Lark tomorrow.
Drew my ends inside my chains with a
piece of dental floss, for the first time
in my life. Not hard at all -- but I
don't think anything feebler than dental
floss would have stood the strain.
Ran out just before supper to drop a
check at the library and some cash at the
Super Valu. (That's the local IGA store.)
The librarian said that the order for
Tatting with Visual Patterns had gone
through, and it was time for me to fulfill
my share of the bargain. I hadn't given
any thought to the bookplate, so it will
have nothing but my name on it. I should
have mentioned Arachne, as I wouldn't have
heard of the book without the lace list.
I'm giving serious thought to making
some cover cloths for the Knoxville
Lacers. After I put a stitch into my new
poncho shirt and cut out my fuzzy pants,
of course. Someone else started a thread
on how do you design a cover cloth for a
lacer you've never seen, so I may not have
to ask.
Realized today that my polywool would
do to bind the neck of the poncho I also
plan to make from the fuzzy wool. Now I'm
having second thoughts; the stuff is
scratchy.
5 December 1996
On the third hand, I do have a silk
scarf.
I finally mailed that letter to Lark
yesterday.
We still have half the larger Mutsu
apple.
6 December 1996
This is a glorious day for those of us
who can stay at home. The light is dim
and shadowless but clear, the snow is
falling as straight as a plumb line, and
every twig on every tree is delicately
outlined in white.
I dreamed last night that Nancy and
Alice were waiting patiently while I
frantically searched an enormous closet
for something to put on. This morning,
while attempting to squeeze in a pair of
Dave's pants, I concluded that my
subconscious was telling me it's time to
take everything out of my closet and put
half of it back.
At least the closet in the dream was
open all along the front, so that you
could get at what was in there. One of
these years I'm going to rip out my closet
wall and replace it with a curtain on a
traverse rod.
The snow is falling faster. Hope I
remember to sweep the Jeep every couple of
inches; Doug is sure to drop by this
afternoon & I'll have to back it into the
driveway so he can clear the parking lot.
Since I stocked up yesterday, I won't
clean anything but the glass until after
the storm.
Guess I'm a Noo Yawker now -- I can say
"storm" when there isn't a breath of wind.
In the afternoon, the snow I left on
the roof broke at the luggage bar and slid
forward until stopped by the snow that had
fallen on the windshield. Looked like
Beetle Bailey.
From Arachne:
> Now I never really thought about bonking
anyone in the head with a bobbin, but the
seed has been planted in my evil little
mind. One has visions of lacemakers
having a slumber party and getting into a
(lacemaker's) pillow fight...yikes!
> Betsy in Southwestern Pennsylvania
7 December 1996
Boiled the turkey broth and some bones
today. I've been thinking of cooking a
half-bag of noodles in the broth. Dave
has been thinking of sending me to live
with Alice until I learn to make turkey
and noodles her way.
9 December 1996
The laptop is officially mine -- for
$10. The case is worth more than that, so
I guess it won't matter if the batteries
finish dying soon.
Hauled my flab onto the bike after
lunch, and went to the post office to mail
a couple of letters -- one to the Ring of
Tatters, which is accepting U.S. funds
until February. They'll process my
application for membership in March, and
exchange all the American-money "cheques"
at once. Then I went to the library to
drop off a request card, and realized that
I didn't have enough data to find it on
Interlibrary Loan, so I wasted more time
than I could spare reading Reader's
Digest.
Somehow, I sewed the whole morning and
didn't do anything but press the first
fold of a hem.
I got a rather clever idea for a
tatting pattern, and consulted Flower and
Garden Crafts, which is filling in for
Workbasket. They do have "tatting"
patterns, but one of them is needle
tatting, and both are on the same page.
I'm sure that I couldn't write a pattern
in less than two pages -- particularly
since the innovation is incorporating a
bobbin-lace technique.
A kindergarten bobbin-lace technique,
of course.
Hmm -- I haven't researched children's
magazines in years.
11 December 1996
Addressed all the Christmas cards
yesterday. Held one out unsealed because
I've almost finished tatting a bookmark.
Hope I don't forget to mail it!
I left my lighter pair of split mittens
in my helmet, then couldn't find them the
next time I rode. We'd cleaned the garage
out in the meanwhile, and I'd moved the
bike (with the helmet dangling from the
handlebar) into the house, so I fear the
worst.
But I did find my other Diego shoe,
which had been mislaid during the same
move. Since slot-cleated shoes and shoes
in my size are each hard to find, this was
a great relief even though I've pretty
much switched to riding in garden shoes.
Walked all over Colonie Center &
Northway Mall today. Finally bought Dave
a robe, but I suspect that "one size fits
all" is too small; all the robes in all
the stores were the same size. Stopped at
Alfred's on the way back & bought four
yards of brown plaid flannel to make a
nightshirt. I plan to use a shirt
pattern, pockets and all, and add long
tails. I think I'll also widen the back &
gather it onto the yoke.
And after that, I stopped at Paradise
Foods & spent about $50 on nuts and dried
fruit. Also got unsweetened toothpaste,
at long last. And a new brand of mustard.
Dave had some on his pre-meeting snack,
and said that it tastes funny.
Tonight is oyster stew at the general
meeting at the firehouse. It's long after
ten o'clock, and Dave isn't home yet.
15 December 1996
Arachne
I'm re-reading Zimmer-Bradley's Star
of Danger. I was on page 86 before I
noticed that I'd read it before -- must
not be memorable.
Just realized that there are two
Arachnes in my life -- Arachne, my defunct
fanzine, and Arachne, the lacemakers'
mailing list.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
17 December 1996
Finished the bookmark Friday; decided I
would photocopy it at the library the next
morning. Saturday morning, I looked out
at a nasty rain & reflected that snow was
predicted for later, & zoomed off to the
library. I ordered a few books -- one of
them came today, but I didn't want to go
out in the nasty rain, which is still
going on -- then stocked up at the
grocery.
Sunday morning, I noticed the bookmark
on the ironing board, where I'd left it to
cool Friday night, and remembered why I
had wanted to go to the library on
Saturday.
Went Monday; set the machine for 200%,
arranged my tatting, laid a sheet of white
paper over it -- most of it printed as
scattered specks. Shoved the darkness
control as far to the left as it would go
-- still invisible. Whipped out a sheet
of black paper I'd brought for just such
an emergency, and shoved the darkness
lever as far to the right as it would go.
The specks now formed an image so
beautifully detailed that I could see that
I'd arranged the work with the wrong side
down.
The fourth copy is lovely.
And then I mailed the card. The
traffic in the post-office parking lot was
terrific.
I had planned to cut Dave's nightshirt
out Monday morning, but he foiled me by
catching the flu. Got his shot a few days
late, or this isn't the flu the shot is
for. He tends to recuperate in motion, so
there've been lots of times I was alone in
the house, but when I'm cutting and
modifying a pattern at the same time, I
require the calm attitude that comes of
knowing I won't have to sweep everything
out of sight. I suspect that it will take
an entire morning once I get at it. Once
cut, it won't be difficult to keep hidden,
as I won't be needing to spread it out in
the living room again, and he's accustomed
to ignoring my sewing.
I've never been able to persuade him to
read the Banner from the disk, or to read
a copy made for someone else -- I suppose
that now that I'm saying things I don't
want him to know just yet, he'll finally
come around.
Hope the rain ends soon. Today it was
raining just barely hard enough to keep
the windshield dirty -- until I got almost
home, when it rained honestly until I'd
got inside with the ream of paper I'd
bought at Mohawk Office Products, then
went back to misting.
I'm glad that I got a new blade for my
back-window wiper a few days ago!
18 December 1996
Grump, grump, grump. Fiddled around
until it was too late to lay out the
nightshirt, so I thought I'd also lay out
the pants I've been meaning to make. With
pants-in-progress as camouflage, I could
lay out the shirt pattern & fiddle around
until I figured out how to make the front
the full width of the cloth and also be
able to sew patch pockets on it, then
spread out the fabric after lunch. So I
got the patterns out of the trunk, and
reached into the back of the closet for
the fuzzy black wool.
It also isn't in the stash drawer, nor
yet in the spare-room closet, nor lying
around in the sewing room, nor in the
stack of blankets. I've run out of places
where it's possible to hide something that
big. I had it a few weeks ago when I tore
off the square that I mean to make into a
poncho. I thought that I folded
the rest over a suit hanger and hung it in
my closet.
19 December 1996
The rain paused yesterday; today, it
has finally listened to the predictions
and turned into snow -- large flakes
falling straight down in the manner of a
noreaster.
I've gotten so paranoid about my
missing fuzzy wool that I looked into the
cat cages and checked the cedar chest,
removing the pile of blankets from the lid
for the first time in months.
It's in the house someplace.
There's another poncho-in-progress in
the sewing room. I did find the black
polywool I mean to use for the waistbands
and pockets of the pants, and the neck
facings of the ponchos. Druther cut the
pants parts first, and fit the neck
facings around them.
The snow melted upon landing, and then
turned back into rain. It seems to be
trying to resume being snow now -- nearly
sunset -- but it's not having much luck.
I've got the shirt cut out. Hope it
goes together the way I thought it would
when I was cutting it.
Heard Dave driving up when I was
upstairs stashing the collar pieces,
pockets, and scraps in the sewing room.
Dashed down to hide my cutting board,
scissors, etc. Forgot that the room was
re-arranged into an alley, with the big
rocker shoved into the doorway and the
hassock under the table, but I don't think
he suspects anything. After all, I was
tearing the house up trying to find my
potential pants yesterday. (Still no sign
of the fuzzy wool.) In the afternoon, I
found a wad of flannelette ravelings, but
it looked like cat hair until I bent down
to pick it up.
Speaking of cat hair, Dave took this
keyboard apart yesterday and cleaned it
out; it works much better now. He also
whittled the "-" key, and it works for the
first time in its life. There was a burr
on the plastic, or some such matter, so
that when you pushed it down, it stayed
down. Most annoying. Always had to
delete a string of "-----" after going to
the bottom of a document, and hyphenated
words tended to occupy amazing amounts of
space. Not to mention that a few other
keys behave oddly when "-" is half
engaged.
I hope the mail comes before it's time
to go to the poets' meeting.
20 December 1996
It didn't. I stopped on the way to buy
two dozen cookies to pass around at the
meeting -- and arrived to discover that
nobody else was there, and the meeting
wasn't in the schedule book. Guess they
took another vote at the meeting I missed.
By the next meeting, the deadline for the
N3F poetry contest will be past, so I
might as well take my copy of Tightbeam
out of my attach case again.
I wonder why briefcases went out of
fashion? You can't get a laptop into an
attach case.
And are briefs really that much bigger
than attachs?
21 December 1996
Either I forgot to move my mark, or I
haven't mailed the Banner since before
Thanksgiving.
It's late enough now to say that the
day I smuggled a ream of Weyerhaeuser
letter-size 24lb laser paper past the
rain, I'd gone to the stationer to order a
package sent to Evelyn. The salesman said
that it would arrive before Christmas or
soon thereafter, so if this gets to her
before the package does, it's time she
started looking for it anyway.
Yup, yup, yup. This morning, Dave came
down the stairs and started reading over
my shoulder when I had precisely the wrong
page on the screen. And all of a sudden,
I couldn't remember how to exit the
program. So I jittered the screen so that
he couldn't read it; such a display of
hostility probably put him off reading the
Banner entirely.
Still no sign of the fuzzy black wool.
I've run out of absurd places to look.
I have, however, got a clue to the
whereabouts of the mittens. The last time
I wore them, I noticed a worn streak where
the brake lever crosses my palm -- so they
are probably someplace where I thought I'd
be sure to remember to darn them.
First step is to look under all those
packets of yarn samples in the sewing
stand where I keep my darning wool.
Got the front and back of the shirt
assembled to the front and back yokes.
Pocket problem was easy: I made all the
extra fabric in front into one box pleat
and stitched the edges to make a triple-
thick panel. A bit awkward where the
triple- thick panel crosses the quadruple-
thick streak on the yoke, but I can sew
the pockets on top of the pleats.
I cut two copies of the front yoke,
then folded each in half and overlapped
them in the middle. By, I hope, the
correct amount (I went by the pattern
instead of by the finished shirt I had
made from it). It would be a bear to take
off the pockets, undo the yoke seam, and
unstitch the pleats.
22 December 1996
While adding a paragraph on plaiting
tails to "Shuttle Solitaire: Tatting as a
Tranquilizer", I wanted to verify my
definitions of Cross and Twist, and
couldn't find my copy of "Beginning Bobbin
Lace," so I took everything off the
needlework shelf and put it back in
categories, in the process discovering
that I have a copy of Mrs. Bury Palliser's
"History of Lace." I suppose I should
call the library and cancel the search
they are doing for me.
I slipped the pictures of crocheted
snowflakes that were in Evelyn's Christmas
card, which came yesterday, into Dawson's
"Complete Guide to Crochet Stitches."
Aside from a leaflet or two, that 125-page
paperback is all I have on crochet, and I
don't recall ever consulting it. What Mom
taught me is plenty!
The knitting books take up half the
shelf, and they tend to be well-thumbed.
That half-shelf does include two
encyclopedias of needlework (deDillmont,
and Caulfield & Saward), and three
miscellaneous magazines that I bought at
Interweave's garage sale.
23 December 1996
Thought for a while there that I'd be
sewing on Christmas Eve, but the shirt is
slip-stitched, pressed, and hanging in the
closet. Can't find a suitable box; may
just put it in the sack with the robe.
There are only two cookies left, and we
had some left of what I'd bought for us,
too.
I'm thinking of buying pie and ice
cream when I go for the chicken tomorrow
morning.
24 December 1996
Folded the shirt neatly, put it in a
box, wrapped it up, ironed a tablecloth
(whine follows) decided to get the robe
bagged up, -- and remembered that the
shirt is supposed to have a belt.
I knocked the milk over while clearing
the breakfast table. Big mess, and now I
have to run a load of wash; the cloth is
figured, so I can't leave it in the washer
until washday, and it's bright red, so I
can't wash it with just anything.
A brighter note is the cloth that I
ironed -- and I'm half inclined to use it
for the feast tomorrow. I made four door
curtains, and miscalculated somehow so
that they came out just an eentsy bit too
short to properly block the drafts. But
it turns out that they fit the table
perfectly. So if you ever wonder why my
tablecloths have a four-inch hem with an
extra row of stitching on one end and a
bound edge on the other . . . .
I must make sure that two of them are
clean and ironed on New Year's Eve. They
leak air, but they are ample for privacy,
and sometimes a returning rider would like
to change his clothes in my office.
I've got until spring to make four more
door curtains. Luckily, I over-estimated
the amount of osnaburg I would need, so
they will match.
Ugh. I still have to go shopping. And
the store closes at six, so it's got to be
done in the morning. Hope I've put
everything on the list; just remembered
this morning that we are out of frozen
sausage, and nearly out of bacon.
Grump again. I forgot to take the
check to the bank when I went shopping, so
now it has to wait until Thursday. Dave
is not going to be pleased. Did get the
belt made this afternoon; since I didn't
want to unwrap the shirt, I tucked the
belt into a pigeonhole behind the #9
envelopes. (I presume that Dave will not
only come up with a need for #9 envelopes,
but remember where to look for them,
before time to open the packages.)
Checked last week that Super Valu sells
fresh whole fryers. Today there was
nothing but cut-up chickens, and
"roasters" too big to cook any way but in
the oven. So I bought a package of frozen
Rock Cornish Game Hens and put one in the
fridge to thaw and put the other in the
downstairs freezer. There won't be any
leftovers, but I don't want to cook two
birds.
And I promised Dave a fryer.
As I looked at Christmas dinner on the
palm of my hand, I thought of the
Thanksgiving turkey. I'm planning to
serve creamed turkey for supper tonight,
and that will still leave a pint of broth
and scraps.
The paperwork for the New Year's Day
ride came in today's mail -- which came
before dark, for some reason; I've gotten
into the habit of bringing in my mail the
following day. If the forms hadn't come,
I'd have gotten no mail at all.
Which reminds me that I have a stack of
envelopes to compare with my address book.
25 December 1996
Sigh. The nightshirt was a good six
inches too short. The robe, however, fits
perfectly.
The game hen is still brickly, so I
left it on the counter. Dave read it and
said "microwave thawing instructions," to
which I replied "set beside microwave and
wait one hour."
Maybe I should set it inside
the microwave, in case Freida
investigates.
27 December 1996
I'm seriously considering the purchase
of four more yards of flannel. Or four
yards twelve inches!
Found my mittens when I decided to
resume work on the stranded stockings I
keep in a computer-paper box beside the
printer. Haven't darned them yet.
Found a pressed-glass bowl of cranberry
sauce in the fridge the day after
Christmas. It isn't bad on a pancake.
29 December 1996
Got some pruning done today. You may
recall that I mowed around a few sumac
seedlings when I first started mowing the
field. This summer they were at that
awkward stage, too tall to see over and
too short to look under; I figured that
next summer I could prune off the lower
branches and have a nice little grove.
A few days ago I looked out the
upstairs window and noticed that the
sumacs were a tangled mess. Knowing that
sumac aren't good to eat, I figured that
human trashers had been at work. But when
I took my pruning shears out there to
clean up, I found that several branches
had been gnawed. I suppose that some
ignorant young deer had ridden a tree
down, tasted it, and tried another and
another -- it's amazing how persistent
children can be when they are being
destructive!
Hardly any are left standing, and none
of those are straight. I was surprised to
see that some of them had been developing
heartwood already, and three were so thick
that I had to go back for the saw, even
though they were broken half-way through.
Piled the brush up at one end of the
grove, then turned my attention to the
butternut out front, which I pruned a few
weeks ago, but left a stub on because I
was afraid of getting sore. Seemed as
though it took as long to saw off that one
limb as to clean up the whole grove of
sumac!
Then I went to the library to pick up
an interlibrary loan book from Oneonta, a
leaflet called "Lace: its history and
identification" by Ann Collier. And spent
three hours reading magazines. Might send
my tatted-heart pattern to Flower and
Garden when it's about time to for them to
buy February stuff; my pattern is prettier
than the tatted heart they ran this year.