---L--P+----1----@10--2----+----3-----R
---L--P+----1----@10--2----+----3---- -R
16 June 1998
Bummer. I seldom go out, but I accepted an invitation
to visit a yarn shop and a museum with a couple of women
from the Knitlist. Spent three days knitting the teeny-
tiny sock that's the membership badge of the
organization.
Yesterday I ran an extra wash just so my white hat
would be clean even though it meant ironing five
pillowcases. (Odd, a thick heavy sheet dried, and so did
two washrags and the quilted brim on the hat, but the
pillowcases were damp even though three of them are quite
thin.) I pinned all my membership badges to the hat --
clear back to 4-H -- and except for the Fibernet skein
making a tuft where the button used to be, it doesn't
look as silly as it might.
We got another non-raining spell in the evening, and I
vacuumed the car. Just before bedtime, I spent an hour
or two getting my knitting fit to KIP.
"Knitting In Public" is a favorite pastime of the
Knitlist. The socks I've been carrying in my purse have
reached the point where they need the needles that are in
the purple socks, and one of the purple socks was at a
stage that required a strong light and a magnifying
glass.
I picked up the black-and-purple heel, got through the
awkward part, wrapped each sock in a Arachne furoshiki,
and packed them in my purse.
(A bobbin lacer's cover cloth is prettier to carry
around than a bandanna.)
This morning I got everything ready, closed up the
house, got into the car, checked the map one last time,
put the key into the ignition.
Grind, grind, . . . . etc.
So I called to cancel & called Dave to let him know I
wouldn't be out late after all.
And I'll bet that if I tried to start the car now, it
would take right off.
June 17, 1998
A compensation for the knitter's outing: The Jeep's
appointment is on Friday, and an interval of dry weather
is predicted for Friday, so I'm planning to ride home
from Langan's by way of the yarn shop in Schenectady --
but I'm also planning to wrap everything in my panniers
in three layers of plastic, and dress in wool and silk
from the skin out.
I should call to make sure the yarn shop is still
there.
I printed out the Banner yesterday -- and finished the
job today. As usual, I've sworn not to let that many
pages pile up again.
I also planted the St. John's wort yesterday. The
ground wasn't nearly as wet as I expected it to be, so I
suppose I should dash out between showers with another
bucket of water.
Found my garden bucket -- it's been sitting on the
garage floor in plain sight all this time -- but I still
want another Rubbermaid mop bucket. The flat shape of
the sponge-mop bucket makes it easier to carry without
bumping my legs, and I can fill the bucket clear up,
because the splashing is fore and aft, not onto me.
The potatoes and tomatoes seem to be flourishing, even
though I haven't dusted them or picked off the beetles in
days. I have fourteen tomato plants! Turned out there
were two plants in two of the Tiny Tim Tom pots. Tiny
Tim is blooming vigorously.
I complained of the "sidewalk closed" signs at the
bridge by the grade school. A while back, they stuck an
arrow over the word "closed" on both signs, to point at
the temporary bridge.
The temporary bridge is looking more temporary than
heretofore, and potholes are developing in the half-
bridge near the underpass. The main wheel track now
passes along the boundary between roadway and shoulder,
so the pavement is breaking up.
It's hard to see how work is progressing, because by
the time I get to where I can see anything, I have to
keep my attention on not slowing up traffic.
18 June 1998
I've found out how to stop it raining. Yesterday I
put a pot under the downspout to catch water for my
garbage dyeing.
Plain catnip doesn't do much. Catnip and a pinch of
alum give a pale but clear yellow. When I get rain
water, I intend to try boiling peppermint with wool. It
stained my fingers when I was picking buds for tea, so
there must be color in it.
The spearmint isn't nearly as vigorous as the
peppermint, perhaps because the peppermint is on the
south side of the house and the spearmint is on the west.
Also, the peppermint gets more water.
I got to June 18 before there was no more room for
Words.mas in the memory, so it looks as though this
year's Banner will fit into two files.
21 June 1998
Took the car to Langan's Friday, & came back by way of
Schenectady. I've been wanting to go to Ye Olde Yarn &
Gift Shop for a long time, but I'm not strong enough to
ride both ways.
Didn't buy anything, but found that decent crochet
hooks are again available. I completed my set just
before Boye started downhill, but I've been worried for
several years because I couldn't replace them in case of
damage or loss. Thought to buy a second Knit Check, but
they no longer go down to #0000, and I regard #2 as
coarse these days. Not to mention that #1 and up are
color coded, so I don't need a gauge for those needles.
Should have taken a closer look at the books.
Picked up four books from the 50<¢s;> rack at
Bibliomania in Jay Street. There were several books in
German, but all were too hard. I opened a thin one
called "hieron<üaut;>mus bosch garten der Luste" &
saw a black-and-white reproduction of a painting and a
brief caption on each page. Muttering "Ah, I can read
this one!" I added it to my stack.
Turns out you can't get much out of it if you can't
read pages five through fourteen. A reproduction of the
triptych follows the commentary, cleverly printed so that
you can unfold it like the real "fl<üaut;>gelalter".
The rest of the pages are enlarged details.
I amused myself for a while by trying to find each
detail on the triptych. Some could be located only by
deducing their location with respect to other details
that had common bits around the edges. Fitting a panel
that opens to 2.2 meters wide and 1.95 meters high onto a
4.5" x 7" page tends to shrink details out of sight, and
the triptych suffers badly from the conversion to
monochrome.
I made out enough of the commentary to learn that the
cover is the orb of heaven with a flat Earth floating
inside. The word for the interior bit looks as though it
ought to translate "orb of Earth", but I can plainly see
that it's a pancake. The inside of the left leaf
represents the Garden of Eden, the inside right leaf
represents Hell, and nobody knows what to make of the
middle leaf, the "Garten der L<üaut;>ste". Each
painting is an arrangement of symbols, the meanings of
which have long been forgotten.
Also bought Down Our Street, a 1939 precursor
of Dick and Jane. When I tried to read Edmond Cooper's
Slaves of Heaven, I thought the style choppier and
more dick-and-janish than Down Our Street, but I
opened to a random page just now and found all the
paragraphs stuffed with compound and complex sentences.
Must just be a lousy job of storytelling.
It doesn't help that the author decided to open with a
pornographic scene, and was so embarrassed about it that
there was no hint of the romantic idyll about to be
rudely interrupted that he undoubtedly meant for it to
be. (The blurb says that the plot is Our Hero rescuing
his kidnapped wife and turning the universe upside down
in the process.)
On the other hand, I think that the crumbling
paperback copy of Otto Jesperson's Growth and
Structure of the English Language (1955 price
95<¢s;>) will prove to be worth the whole $2.
If I'm ever not-tired enough to read it. I'm planning
to finish Neal Stephenson's The Diamond Age
tonight -- at least I was; it's after 11:00. Thought it
was Cyberpunk when I started it, but it's something quite
different. The structure ought to read like a pile of
scraps, but it holds interest page after page despite
jumping from one character to another, and one honestly
cares about all these people.
I was a bit slow on the uptake, though. He'd referred
to this and that being made of diamond about forty times
before I grasped the meaning of the title. The book is a
plausible construction of possible consequences of
nanotechnology.
I checked The Diamond Age out of the
Voorheesville Library when I stopped on the way back from
Schenectady to order a couple of books from Interlibrary
Loan. I've forgotten which two, but I was working from
the top down on my list of interesting books.
I'm adding about three a day to the list, and reading
about three a year.
24 June 1998
Picked up Patterns of Culture on my way to buy
strawberries this morning.
I'm not yet finished with The Diamond Age, but
I think I'll look for others from the same author.
Couple of nits: it was necessary to the plot that a
"ractor" -- an actor in interactive plays -- read Nell's
book to her, so computer-generated voices aren't of
sufficiently high quality for a book intended for the
granddaughter of a Lord of Equity. But later on, the
narrator commented that it didn't matter whether the
ractor was a him or a her, or how he read the lines,
because the computer would touch it up!
Also, the air in the poor sections is so dirty that
thetes come down with black lung, yet dirty air is a
valuable resource. Surely "toner" would be a
particularly valuable dirt, being the remains of critters
built out of the molecules filtered from dirty air and
water.
But that could be a plot point; some of the
subversives are trying to build "seeds" that won't depend
on central feedlines; perhaps the centrists can't harvest
the richer deposits of pollution without losing their
central authority.
"Thete" means someone not belonging to a clave or
phyle -- the wretches on the fringe, the boys in the
'hood. All the other odd words sprinkled in to add to
the illusion of being in the alien future were easy to
figure out, but what is "thete" a shortening of?
27 June 1998
Had a heavy shower before the grass got dry enough to
mow. Also before the clothes got dry. I ironed the
pillowcases and left the sheet draped over the ironing
board. The ironing board is right in front of the window
fan, so if the sheet isn't dry now, it will be by
morning.
The day seems to have evaporated. Except for washing
the whites I left to soak yesterday, I didn't do anything
-- not even take a nap.
Now I've mislaid my disappearing pens.
I could probably eyeball a quarter inch -- marking a
pinning line on a seam that runs the from the end of the
sleeve to the floor would be a bit of a chore anyhow.
I've not much steam up on making my daygown. I
discovered that there's too much polyester in the blend;
when I try it on, I nearly pancake. And I've washed my
cotton daygown, which had been too dirty to wear, so I'm
not so fried.
Come to think of it, I wore jeans and a T shirt most
of today; it's not so steamy as it was. Dave turned off
the air conditioner this morning, and opened the windows
in the bedroom.
And I caught Fred sleeping on the lamb pelt in the
living room this afternoon. As soon as Dave installed
the air conditioner, he spread himself on the bed where
the main blast hit, and refused to leave the bedroom.
29 June 1998
The mosquitoes have taken full advantage of the rainy
weather. I wanted to cultivate the garden before it got
hot, but I gave up after only two laps. I was getting
bit so bad I was afraid I'd mow off what I was trying to
cultivate.
"Patterns of Culture" has already given me an insight.
I've long wondered at the poor job of writing in certain
types of Christian literature. I would do my very best
work when making something for the Lord, but edifying
fiction is often so crude that it bears a startling
resemblance to cheap pornography. I figured that the
"Christian" writer, like the pornographer, felt that
having mentioned the tabu subject, he had done his duty
and no further effort was required.
On page 38, Ruth Benedict says: "As a matter of
history, great developments in art have often been
remarkably separate from religious motivation and use.
Art may be kept definitely apart from religion even where
both are highly developed. In the pueblos of the
Southwest of the United States, art-forms in pottery and
textiles command the respect of the artist in any
culture, but their sacred bowls carried by the priests or
set out on the altars are shoddy and the decorations
crude and unstylized. Museums have been known to throw
out Southwest religious objects because they were so far
below the traditional standard of workmanship. 'We have
to put a frog there,' the Zu<ñ>i Indians say,
meaning that the religious exigencies eliminate any need
of artistry. This separation between art and religion is
not a unique trait of the Pueblos . . . "
So I see that the people who produce the embarrassing
stories and the unconvincing tracts feel that artistic
merit is unsuitable for sacred work.
And good workmanship is dangerously close to artistic
merit.
There's a brisk breeze coming in the window. I should
get some cultivator-pushing in before it quits or blows
up a shower.
30 June 1998
Skeeters still a pain, it's still raining. Haven't
been outside today except to bring in the mail. Spending
a lot of time on the Web and use.net.
When I was in the library yesterday, one of the
librarians told me my interlibrary-loan book was in, and
said they'd tried to call me but my line was busy for two
solid hours!
I think Dave had gotten on when I got off. I'd left
him on line when I went to the library.
The book was one I'd noticed when I asked the uncard
file for Mary Konior -- she wrote the text for Louisa
Calder's Creative Crochet.
I am very much not impressed. Using bright colors and
coarse yarn to make clumsy shapes would have been
"creative" in the thirties, maybe in the forties,
possibly in the fifties, but by 1979, the date of the
book, Calder's designs were old hat. Also, she firmly
states that it's impossible to avoid a jog at the
beginning of the round when working stripes, and the
photos are careful to turn this jog toward the camera.
In knitting, you have to know how to avoid the jog, but
in crochet, it's easier to leave the jog out than to put
it in.
The hooked rugs in the back ain't bad.
On closer inspection, it's a pretty good book for a
beginning crocheter. If the designs of the famous
artist's wife are designs a beginner can easily improve
upon, that's all to the good.
1 July 1998
Pleasant weather! And they say it will continue
through the holiday.
I'd better mow and cultivate today, because I want to
ride my bike tomorrow.
Cultivated. Forgot to mow. It's only a little patch
hidden under the smaller oak tree anyway.
I did finish my daygown -- all but the two patch
pockets. It looks rather good. Pity I didn't think to
use the cotton chambray instead; after all, I bought it
for just that purpose!
I may up and buy some silk and make an evening gown
along the same lines. First, I want to make a slip.
Dharma's 45" 12mm silk twill at $7.51/yard would probably
make lovely underwear.
I finally got around to ironing the two garden shirts,
so now I'm clothed for two warm days.
Any more all-cotton shirts I make are going to open
down the front! Pity I didn't buy that madras I saw when
I bought the print I made the daygown from; madras work
clothes don't need to be ironed.
4 July 1998
Wore myself out yesterday, and then couldn't sleep
that night.
So I had an unusually long nap this afternoon, and now
it's -- 2:00 am tomorrow, no wonder that date didn't make
sense -- and I still don't feel like going up to bed.
Finally made my bike trip to downtown Albany. Hit
Lodge's & three book stores, and had a chat at the Black
Cat Bike Shop, which I made a U-turn for on Western
Avenue, or maybe it was Madison. There was a comic shop
next door, but it was ten minutes to opening time when I
left the bike shop, so I went on.
Stopped at Stewarts in Voorheesville on the way home,
which was a mistake. "Fireworks" ice cream wasn't the
treat the newspaper story had led me to expect, my legs
stiffened up, and my metabolism decided the trip was
over. I was dangerously stupid while negotiating the
village. Did retain enough wit to turn onto Stonington
and avoid the construction. Well, the bridge builders
were digging across the mouth of Mountainview at the
time, but there was a flagman to tell me when to dart
out, and I didn't have to keep up with traffic for the
full length of the bridge and both approaches.
Bookstores weren't much fun, because it isn't safe to
leave a bike unattended in Albany. I cable-locked at
Bryn Mawr & surveyed most of the 50<¢s;> section,
which was in the hallway where I could keep an eye on the
bike. I bought McLeod's Vane Pursuit, which I
read tonight, and Earl Derr Bigger's Seven Keys to
Baldpate, illustrated with movie stills that remind
me of my high-school play. Copyright 1913 -- perhaps
they were still overacting in memory of the silents.
What with the word "key" in the title and the book
having been made into a movie, I thought it must be a
Charlie Chan story, but the table of contents suggests
that McGee, the viewpoint of the opening scenes, does all
the detecting.
I'd read Vane Pursuit before, but Miss Binks
and her hobbit's lair was all that I remembered of it. I
was even surprised at who the mastermind was, and didn't
catch on until the clues got right blatant.
Picked up five hats and seven pairs of underpants at
Lodge's. Didn't think to look at the household linens;
the store was somewhat crowded on account of the sidewalk
sale, and I was tired by the time I got there. I went
straight home after checking out. Well, not straight; I
got lost in Washington park. Also made a stop at the
Albany Public Library, which I found while hunting for
McDonald's, and topped off my water bottles. I'll go to
the library on purpose next time.
I think the shower afterward was the first time I ever
washed my hair and lathered up only once. But I scrubbed
my skin twice! This time I got all the sunscreen off --
at least I didn't roll up dirt when I towelled off.
Just remembered that I dropped some books off at the
Voorheesville Library on my way out -- two libraries and
three bookstores makes it a rather literary trip. And I
passed by the New Scotland Avenue branch of the Albany
library.
I should have touched base.
4 July 1998 -- for a few more minutes
Frieda meowled pitifully for some of the lentils I was
having for a bedtime snack -- if I'm eating, she feels
that there must be something around that's fit to eat,
and there's no way to tell her that humans are omnivores.
I'd settle for telling her that humans don't always
know where they are putting their feet.
I've found a good recipe for lentils: half a cup of
brown rice, one cup of lentils, three cups of stock,
assorted vegetables and seasonings, simmer one hour.
July 1998
Sigh. Quicken was working perfectly well, but Dave
absolutely had to have the latest version, so now the old
commands don't work.
The first thing I noticed was that I couldn't get out
of the split window without using the mouse -- today I
found that even with the graphics input, there
is no way to close an account window without shutting
down the entire program and opening it again.
So when I finished entering my register tapes, I left
the Mastercard window open. When Dave complains, I'll
tell him why!
I wonder why the close-window button appears when you
re-instantiate the program?
9 July 1998
Rode to Walmart today; took about an hour, so I reckon
it's about ten miles. Easier trip than I remembered --
but I didn't make it up Grant Hill on the way back. I've
got to ride more often than every other week!
I bought a dozen wire coat hangers. I've been running
a trifle short ever since I hung my uncut fabrics on wire
hangers with clothespins, as if they were skirts or
pants.
I found three yards of "denim"-colored chambray in the
$1 pile, & bought it to test my blouse pattern with.
I've been wearing my indigo-blue chambray smock a lot, so
I think I can use another one. The blue one is a lot
more useful than the white one!
There were several bolts of plaid seersucker in the $2
pile, and I bought four yards of blue plaid to make Dave
another summer nightshirt.
First I want to establish that he'll actually wear it.
The striped chambray shirt just hangs on the peg, unless
I steal his muslin shirt to wash it.
Discovered that Crossgate's ring road is quicker to
get back to Gipp than Rapp is -- even without considering
that you have to put in an extra mile on Frontage because
the last few feet of Rapp are one-way. There's a paved
bike path leading out of one of the parking lots onto
Rapp almost at Gipp, so I didn't have to go all the way
to the entrance, fight a swirl of traffic, and come back
again. Can't figure why they want a bike path just
there; it doesn't particularly go anywhere, and there
aren't any pedestrians in the neighborhood. It's edged
with real stone, so it isn't just a left-over wheelbarrow
path.
But getting from Frontage to the ring road calls for
crossing a great deal of loose gravel that might be
fenced off the next time I come.
I stopped at Paradise and bought a bagfull of nuts,
raisins, lentils, and rice. I was completely out of
everything but lentils.
And they were out of walnuts, so I settled for
hazelnuts and almonds.
I went back up Gipp to Turnpike to come home --
meandered through Sherwood Forest to Gladwish -- which
doesn't have a light to get you onto 155, but you don't
have to negotiate into the left-turn lane -- then went
through Nott and Grant Hill, which becomes
Voorheesville's Main Street. This got me around both the
bridge on 155 and the bridge by the tunnel. Then I took
Stonington and Mountainview, which doesn't get me around
the construction at the bridge by the grammar school any
more, but the bulldozer I dodged getting onto 85 appeared
to be paving the approach to the new half-bridge, so
maybe they are going to open it pretty soon.
I paced off the bridge one day after eating pizza at
Smitty's. I was puzzled because it was too wide for one
lane, but nowhere near wide enough for two. After a
while Dave suggested that they mean to put in a wide
sidewalk. That would be exceedingly cheap, in proportion
to the number of small children who cross the creek at
least twice every school day.
Saw them driving a pile at the other bridge one day,
but I don't see anything developing. That might be only
because I can't see anything at all. I've considered
making a special trip just to look, but there's no safe
place to walk anywhere near the bridge.
Got home about three -- took a shower and went to bed,
then Dave called to say the 7:30 envelope-stuffing party
was about to start at the fire house. I didn't hang
around long after the envelopes were stuffed -- most of
them. The number of letters and flyers was supposed to
be a hundred over, and it was about a hundred short. And
the raffle tickets weren't ready yet. I told Nancy to
call me when she got the stuff, and we'd go for peanut-
butter ice cream afterward, but she said she'd prefer
lemonade.
Does that mean she doesn't want to ride her bike to
Altamont?
Meant to put on my daygown after my shower, but the
pockets are only pinned on. I wondered why it was
hanging in the sewing-room doorway!
11 July 1998
Not much done today. I took five minutes and sewed
one of the pockets on the daygown. Also washed
the seersucker, put the shirtweight denim in to soak, and
drafted a shirt pattern for the denim.
Somehow, I checked that the warp and weft of the
"chambray" were different colors without noticing that
the back was navy blue!
I'm planning to use it with the workshirt-colored side
out, but I'm considering making the pockets and collar
from the dark side. Or I might turn the hems to the
right side.
Danny is having a garage sale in his barn this
weekend. I haven't been to look yet.
12 July 1998
From the Lace-chat list: "Everyone has a photographic
memory, but some of us don't have any film."
Dave's new camera, which he is still carrying with him
everywhere, uses 3.5" floppies.
15 July 1998
This morning's wake-up show included a sound clip from
the First Lady, who, you may have heard, is gracing our
neighborhood with a historical visit. I was amazed at
how unpleasant her speaking voice is. My first thought
was that a professional should have taken lessons, my
second thought was that perhaps lessons were what was the
matter.
Mentioned it to Dave at breakfast & he suggested that
she might be imitating Eleanor Roosevelt.
17 July 1998
Last Sunday I rode up New Salem Hill to Thatcher Park,
just for exercise. Noticed white spots on my front wheel
while hanging over the handlebars getting my breath back.
An inspection after I got to the overlook revealed that
the fabric is showing through the tread in several places
on the casing. Not a thought to enhance a screaming
descent!
Bought a new casing Monday, and bought White's
Final Diagnosis at the Book House on the way back.
And stayed up until today last night reading it.
Got around to installing the casing Wednesday, but
couldn't get the witness line to settle down -- it stuck
out nearly a quarter of an inch on one side of the valve,
and noticeably on the other. When Dave came home for
lunch, he suggested hammering it.
I fetched the rubber mallet I use to dislodge air lock
in the laundry drain. Hitting a fully-inflated ninety-
pound tire on a properly-tensioned spoked wheel is rather
amusing, but not very productive.
Dave then suggested letting the air out, pumping it
back up, and riding it around a little. I fetched a
meat-ball sub for supper, repeated the relax-and-repump
exercise, and it helped considerably, but there was still
a slight deviation on one side of the valve.
Didn't check or repump after Thursday's trip to
Altamont. Should.
I got back in plenty of time to take my nap at the
usual time -- and read use.net a while first.
I'm repairing a cotton jersey that isn't worth
mending, and plan to cut front pockets from one that's in
even worse shape. I must get on with testing my blouse
pattern so my next trip can be to Alfred's to buy yellow
interlock.
18 July 1998
I'm running low on starlight mints, so I bought a bag
of sourballs at Super Valu tonight. Big mistake. A
sphere is extremely uncomfortable to hold in your mouth
while riding a bike.
Getting something wrapped, rather than sealed into an
envelope, was a good plan, though.
When I first saw heat-sealed mints, I thought it a
wonderful idea, but a sealed envelope doesn't stop them
from sticking to the wrapper when they've been in a
pocket for a while, and the package is very hard to open
even when fresh from the bag -- especially when you are
trying to do it with one hand and your teeth. And the
envelope comes off in small pieces that must be disposed
of individually.
All I have to do with the sourball is to pull on the
wrapper with my teeth, then switch ends and pop the candy
into my mouth. In addition to paying too little
attention to my riding while attempting to gain access to
a mint sealed into an envelope, I've been known to drop
the candy and lose it.
Which is particularly annoying when I've stocked my
pocket with exactly enough.
Tonight's pizza of the week was Potato Skin. We
succumbed, and ate more than half. Grease city!
Maybe I'll skip weighing myself tomorrow morning. I
seem to gain about five pounds at each such excess, but
it fades away as easily as it came.
I've been stuck at 160 for a while. My weight seems
to drop ten pounds quickly, then hold for a while.
But I've got to get more energetic about chopping
vegetables.
Pity they aren't good when not fresh. Be nice to cook
up a big batch and freeze single servings.
Hung my new polycotton daygown with my winter clothes
today. I don't wear gowns much in cold weather.
Bought lemons and sugar for the lemonade stand at the
same trip as the sourballs. Just ten lemons, for the
dress rehearsal Monday. I bought five pounds of sugar,
because I want to make the syrup the same way as for
real, and the left-overs can be left in the cooler at the
firehouse. I calculate that five pounds of sugar and
seven pints of water will make nearly five quarts of
syrup.
Lessee. One shot of syrup to the glass, sixteen
glasses to the pint, call almost-five quarts eight pints
to allow for people who want extra syrup, so there's 128
servings in five pounds of sugar. We have five hundred
paper cups, so we can't need more than five bags of
sugar.
Unless the weather is hot enough that Dave has to run
out for more cups.
20 July 1998
Dress rehearsal for the lemonade stand tonight. I'd
better make the syrup in the morning, to be sure it has
time to cool.
And I'd better time it, so we'll know when to make a
fresh batch of syrup.
Thunderstormy this morning. Just as well that I
forgot to put the sheet and pillowcases in to soak last
night.
Had to iron the pillowcases in the load I washed
yesterday. Changed all the cases on the bed first, which
is where I got the load that needs washing now.
I dislike wearing shorts, but this morning I put on my
only pair, and reflected that I ought to have another.
Now I know how to cut the linen that's enough for one and
a half pairs of pants.
Linen ought to be very good for shorts.
The leftover pizza is already gone. This time Dave
ate some.
22 July 1998
The bridge by the grade school is much easier to cross
now that the new half is open.
I rode to the village yesterday to buy gasoline --
I've always wanted to do that, and it turned out to be
quite easy, though it took a bit of grunting to bungee
the gas can to the bike firmly enough to suit me. I used
every bungee cord I have.
On the return trip, I decided to cross the pedestrian
bridge in order to take a closer look at the construction
-- not to mention that it was hard to get onto the road
from the gas station before they tore up the
pavement. Was startled to find that the sidewalk was
freshly-unmolded wet concrete & blocked access to the
pedestrian bridge. Hadn't had attention to spare to
notice that on the way in, especially after I accelerated
briskly to get across before the light changed, then --
just barely in time to loosen my grip on the bike --
remembered that the ramp from the old pavement to the
surface of the bridge is about the height and slope of a
speed bump.
When I drove in for a tomato today, I noticed that
there are barriers on the paths to the temporary bridge.
I presume that they plan to tear it down soon.
Crossed the bridge only once on that trip. I'd
planned to get a tomato at Indian Ladder while buying
milk, but the fruit stand they've set up in the apple
room didn't have any, so I drove to Supervalu by way of
Altamont Road.
I'd promised Dave a tomato on his hamburger. Got a
bag of hamburger buns while I was at it.
This was after laying hamburger out to thaw so that I
wouldn't have to go to the village to buy something for
supper.
Luckily, I don't feed him tomorrow. I'm out of menus
that don't call for cooking. Gave him a take-out meal on
Monday. We split one meal, and had meat left over.
Cut out my new blouse today and yesterday, and I still
have the back yoke and the patch pockets to cut out.
But I finally ironed the linen. If I hadn't been
afraid it would mildew, I don't think I've have gone on
after realizing that I can't plug in the iron and the
window fan at the same time.
Tomorrow is my day for an all-day bike ride. I
haven't selected a destination yet. Could go to
Guilderland to buy cat food -- Super Valu doesn't have
Friskies Senior in bags, and it doesn't take the little
guys long to go through a box. But that isn't quite long
enough, and there isn't anywhere pleasant to put in a few
miles, unless I just ride around in circles.
Could see whether the Grand Union in Delmar has it,
but that means riding on Delaware Avenue, which is
narrow, bumper-to-bumper, and lined with parked cars.
We postponed the dress rehearsal to yesterday. It
went tolerably well, but we have four lemons left.
Learned that we need some towels in the booth to wipe our
hands on. We can wash them from the jugs of water we
dilute the lemon juice with.
We don't expect to use much water because we are
piling up the cups with ice. Dave found a shaker that we
used to good effect. Looks like the metal container they
used to make milkshakes in.
Opening night is one week from tomorrow.
At least when the fair closes Saturday night, we can
wash our lemon squeezer, turn in our money, and we're
done!
Dave seems to be acting as advisor to this year's fair
treasurer, but I don't think I'll end up hauling boxes of
quarters to the bank.
I wonder when the Big Top arrives?
23 July 1998
The weather turned pretty nice right after I got back
from my ride. I needed practice at riding in the rain.
Getting wet with rain was much more pleasant than
dripping sweat, though I did some of that too. Never got
much more than damp.
Didn't go into places as much as I would have if
there'd been a dry place to leave my bike, though.
Checked my new Albany County map before leaving, and
the tunnel under Washington Avenue that connects
Crossgates and Crossgates Commons is marked on it, so I
put on my extra miles by trying it out. I had been
hunting for it from the Walmart end, and from that side
it isn't easy to find even when you came in that way.
Since both malls are owned by the same company, you'd
think there'd be signs all over telling you to stop at
the other on your way home, but the first sign I saw on
my way back marked a ramp that was your last chance to
avoid going to Crossgates. There's no more marking than
that on the Crossgates end of the tunnel, but from that
side, all you have to do is to get onto the ring road and
drive until you see it. Tried that on the Walmart end,
and wound up in somebody's driveway.
Just ahead of a truck that had gone there on purpose.
I suspect that that business had been there before the
mall was built, and was the last place on the frontage
road. Frontage may have been chopped off to make space
for the tunnel to Crossgates, but I think it had already
been chopped off to make room for the Interstate.
The ramp from Crossgates to I-87 gave me a thrill
while I was hunting for the tunnel to Crossgates Commons.
At first glance it appears to be headed for the office
park behind Stuyvesant Plaza.
I'd better have another look at that up-to-date map.
It would be nice to go home from Stuyvesant Plaza without
using Western Avenue. (Checked: I'd have to cross two
interstates and Washington Avenue.)
Since I came in at the back of Crossgates Commons, I
went into MJ Designs. Craffte shoppes sometimes have
needlework supplies, but I didn't see anything to make me
wish I had changed my shoes and found a safe place to
leave the bike unattended. Place didn't stink, which is
unusual in places that sell candles. Even when I was
right by the candle display it wasn't strong enough to be
unpleasant.
But everybody knows I'm dull of nose.
I did get the cat food. Got home in time for my nap,
but fooled around until three o'clock before I took it.
Didn't touch my sewing today, if you don't count
ripping the bias tape off the neckline of a poncho shirt.
The neck was a hair too small and had started to fray.
After checking that the rest of the shirt is in good
condition, I decided to cut off the fraying seam
allowance and put on fresh tape. Did get the tape pinned
and cut it off the card.
Dave drove 2370 into our driveway today, just to give
Danny and me a thrill. He demolished Danny's light post
on the way out; he should have stuck to turning around in
the county building parking lot as they usually do.
Didn't ask him how the adopt-a-highway meeting went.
24 July 1998
I keep finding Frieda lounging in the kitchen, face
toward the stove.
When we had mice, that's where they hung out. I found
a dead baby mouse yesterday, unmarked.
Which beats piles of bloody vomit.
Naptime: I've taken two more baby mice away from
Frieda, one still twitching, and she appeared to be
trying to eat the second. She complained about the one I
just took; when I took the twitching mouse, she suddenly
took an intense interest in the stove.
Also caught Fred putting his big paws under the stove.
Maybe I should get a mirror and a flashlight and do a
little stove peeking myself.
26 July 1998
Itinerary is firming up. I have airline tickets to
Lafayette (Purdue Airport) to arrive August 19 and leave
September 2. Visit with Alice until the reunion, go home
with Nancy, then I'll rent a car and drive to Warsaw.
That leaves three days unaccounted for; perhaps I'll go
back to Shipsewana -- several people on the sewing list
think it's the greatest attraction since Disneyland --
perhaps I'll hang out at the Purdue library.
Didn't take any exercise today, but I did wash a
year's worth of cleaning rags. When I went to put them
away, there were only two mop rags left, and it takes
three to clean the kitchen floor.
Up until now, washing rags has taken one washerload &
I've had to string up extra clothesline. Today they took
two washers, and all fit on the umbrella dryer. I must
have been diligent about throwing out the little bitty
rags.
They had to soak, then be washed twice and rinsed
twice, and the whites had to soak too, so the sheet and
the pillowcases are still on the line. After checking
the weather reports, I've decided to risk letting them
hang all night.
But I brought in my hand-knit white socks at sunset.
I've been thinking about making up the remaining two-
thirds of the cotton I bought to make pillowcases. I
have enough cases to fill a 16-pound washer, which is
worlds a plenty in the winter, when a sheet stays on the
bed more than a week, I change all the pillowcases at
once not more often than every other sheet change, and I
change only a few pillowcases in between sheet changes.
For the last few weeks, a sheet has stayed on the bed
less than a week, I change all the pillowcases when
changing the sheet more often than not, and I change at
least one pillowcase every morning.
So when I change the sheet and don't change all the
pillows, it's because I haven't enough clean cases!
Didn't touch my new shirt today. I should be eager to
see whether it fits; I made some drastic changes to the
pattern this iteration. I have all the pieces cut out,
and I've started to fold down the hems of the
patch pockets.
Did touch the sewing machine today. All my hats are
loose, & I remembered that when you make rows of parallel
machine stitching, they shrink. So I stitched round and
round the band of my old beat-up hat -- only one old hat
is still reporting for duty, and it's the one that blows
off with little provocation -- to see whether a stitched
band would look clumsy.
When I tried it on, it was bigger!
I do wish I'd been more careful and persistent when I
bought the hats. Every one "adult" except the lime-
yellow rain hat, which is "57 cm" and fits perfectly,
though I think I'd want a 56 in a sun hat. I wear the
nylon hat pulled down low to keep rain off my glasses,
but I could shade my eyes without going for the secret-
agent look.
Some of the cotton hats were marked in
centimeters; don't know how I missed buying any.
Fair this coming Thursday. Dave thinks our current
gallon of syrup will see us through the first night, but
I'll buy two five-pound bags of sugar tomorrow & make up
one of them. We'll use it Friday, after all, and sugar
is cheap.
Now if I could remember why I meant to go to Stonewell
tomorrow . . .
Got it! I want some corn and fashionable bread from
Our Family's Harvest. Everything else on the list is in
Voorheesville.
29 July 1998
Had to string extra line Monday, because the sheets
were still hanging out when the first load of shirts came
out of the washer.
The dime fell: I wrapped the line around the trees at
shoulder level, and hung only short stuff on it: no
stretching and straining.
Not only didn't go for a ride, I barely had time to
fetch milk by car.
I wonder whether the radio station did that on
purpose?
This morning's wake up show took a commercial break;
first ad told how wonderful it is to hang out at an Off
Track Betting parlor, the second said the best way to get
through "hump" Wednesday is to buy a scratch-off lottery
ticket, the third said that you could get free admission
to the race track by showing a losing lottery ticket --
double whammy! And the fourth, just before returning to
the program, advertised the Family Center for Problem
Gamblers with a dramatic scene in which the gambler's
spouse discovered that the savings account was empty.
I did sew the back of my shirt to the yoke yesterday.
Couldn't get any farther without turning the iron on, so
I disassembled a pair of patch-source pants rather more
thoroughly than is strictly required.
I should at least get the back and front sewn together
so I can see whether the new narrower shoulders work, and
whether I can reduce the size of the armhole.
Was reading a thread about diver's weight belts on the
sewing list, and learned that the Rain Shed sells "leno
nylon" mesh to make jersey pockets with. I wonder
whether the person looking for soccer-shirt patterns
noticed that.
Perhaps not, since I think that thread was on
usenet.
And I'm not sure it wasn't a would-be hockey-shirt
maker who wanted the mesh fabric.
Tried to find the Rain Shed's home page. They haven't
got one, but everybody is talking about them. I
copied instructions for obtaining a catalog from a home
page selling patterns to make your own horse-riding
clothes.
I was rather surprised to find that none of the
patterns gave me ideas for wire-donkey riding clothes.
But they didn't include windbreakers; I think the
patterns are costumes for contests. (One of the sources
on the page sold sequin-covered fabric.)
Still haven't figured out how to cut my windbreaker
nylon. I've been thinking of using my soldering iron for
a hot knife, been thinking of marking the cutting lines
with Fray Check -- school glue should do, since I plan to
enclose all raw edges.
1 August 1998
It looks as though the three bags of sugar I bought
are going to be just right. I'm making two of them into
syrup for tonight; used one yesterday.
Thursday we emptied the drip-catcher into a cup & I
brought the juice home and stashed it in an eight-ounce
mustard jar. Yesterday I took a pint-and-a-half "can or
freeze" jar, and got it full enough that today I'm taking
two.
We can use can-or-freeze jars for that because I
bought a package of Ball's new plastic storage lids.
There are always plenty of standard-mouth lids from mayo
and spaghetti sauce, but none of the things I buy come
with wide-mouth lids that fit canning jars, so I was
tickled to find them.
2 August 1998
We have three unopened half-gallon jars of syrup left
-- I could have saved that third bag of sugar.
Had half a lemon on the cutting board when we decided
to close up shop; just then a little boy came up who,
when I asked whether he wanted lemonade, said he didn't
have any money. We used up the last half lemon, and he
shared it with a friend.
Got at least as much lemon juice from the drip catcher
as yesterday, and didn't give away as many drinks -- I
never had time to carry it to the ambulance crew -- but
Dave (who did the cashing out) says that we made less
money.
We didn't much more than make expenses, but that
includes a hundred-dollar lemon squeezer that we can use
again next year. Should make better sales next year too,
since the customers will be expecting us, and we'll know
more about it.
I wonder whether fruit cups would go over at the fair?
There was a fruit-cup stand doing land-office business at
the NSS convention, but people staying three days have
different tastes than people staying three hours, and cut
fruit spoils quickly.
5 August 1998
The Albany County Auxiliary picnic is safely over. I
never saw clean-up go so quickly! Part of it was that it
was a pitch-in. When the party broke up, our guests
descended on the tables to retrieve their dishes (mostly
aluminum-foil pans), and that cleaned up at least three
fourths of the mess in about thirty seconds.
We kept the tent that had been rented for the fair,
and rented two fresh portapotties and a hand-washing
stand. First time I'd used a hand-washing stand, and it
took me a bit to realize that the faucet handles were
pumps, not switches.
The men re-opened half the steak-sandwich booth and
cooked the hamburgers and hot dogs, and they moved the
heavy stuff for us. We moved two of the coolers by dint
of putting two women on each end, but the third had to
wait for someone bigger. The men also got all the picnic
tables out of the tent, which will probably be taken down
tomorrow, and carried the serving tables back to the
meeting room -- which is up two flights of stairs, since
our basement opens at ground level at the back.
I think that most or all of the meat and bread was
also left over from the fair. The potties cost $200; I
don't know what the extra time on the tent cost. Dave's
asleep, and I can't ask. Not as much as having one
pitched, I'm sure.
Party was scheduled for the pole barn, and at our last
meeting we'd planned to haul the hot dogs and hamburgers
across the street. The pole barn's barbecue was
"destroyed" -- whether by weather or trashers, I don't
know. Neither do I know whether they paid for extra time
on the tent, or discovered that it wouldn't be picked up
until tomorrow & decided that they might as well use it.
I woke up this morning expecting to go to the pole barn
at 3:00, but luckily mentioned it to Dave. Some of the
set-up crew said they'd arrived wondering why all the
activity was on the wrong side of the street.
It was much nicer in the tent than in the pole barn.
Primarily, I think, because the tent is white and
translucent, so it was much brighter in there.
Must go up to the kitchen to look out the window as
soon as the tent is gone. The fair leaves a striking
brown and green pattern of trampled and untrampled grass;
surely this is now overlaid with a fainter pattern of
picnic tables.
6 August 1998
"I think they are nocturnal, or at least diurnal."
After a long calculation gives a surprising result:
"Are you sure your numerology is correct?"
Every few pages while reading Alan Dean Foster's
Orphan Star, I stumble over a word that's a little
bit off from meaning what the author appears to have
intended.
And Flinx keeps darting into impossibly dangerous
situations without the slightest idea of how he's going
to get out alive.
And everyone who shoots at Pip is a marvelously-bad
shot.
Aside from that, and the occasional "and the secret is
-- Aaargh!thump." it's a real page-turner.
Only thirty pages left; Flinx had better read that
tape soon.
7 August 1998
His mother's name was on the tape, but not his
father's. Sequel coming.
And if I happen across it in a used-book store, I
might buy it.
Also found at the Bookworm: Kurtz's The Bastard
Prince, Two Crowns for America, and King
Javan's Year; Hambly's The Dark Hand Of Magic
and The Magicians of Night; and E. Hoffmann
Price's Operation Misfit. The last was probably a
mistake; if I recall correctly, his Chinese fantasy is
convincing enough to make you re-check his name to make
sure he's not oriental, but his SF stinks. Also got a
couple of hardbacks off the 50<¢s;> table.
Was all set for some serious exercise, but I settled
for riding to Delmar and back. Picked up two juice
glasses at the Dollar Tree -- there's "Dollar Tree" brand
merchandise in there; are we seeing the rebirth of
Woolworth's?
Alas, we may never see the rebirth of deciding what
you want before you go to the store.
Also got a 12-pack of diet Dr. Pepper at the Grand
Union, which was the purpose of the exercise. The
Supervalu has been out of diet Mountain Dew the last
half-dozen times I went shopping, they never did sell Dr.
Pepper or Royal Crown Cola, and Dave is getting tired of
diet Pepsi, so I thought I'd make a supermarket-to-
supermarket tour. But the mental fatigue of shopping
precludes any serious physical fatigue; I didn't even
turn back at Toll Gate to explore the new Price Chopper
less than a mile away. I did come back by way of Font
Grove, but I'm not sure it wasn't an easier route despite
being longer. Font Grove is certainly more pleasant than
the state road.
I did turn back to the Four Corners. The street which
bypasses the stretch of Delaware that's marginally worse
than the rest of it joins Kenwood less than a block from
Delaware, and I've been wondering what Destiny Threads is
for a long time.
It's a store that sells exquisite handmade textiles.
As I toured, I was struck by wonder from two sides: how
can American needleworkers make so many teeny-tiny
stitches for so little money -- and who is going to pay
$150 for a vest?
Some of the lines in reverse appliqu are
narrower than one seam allowance, let alone two. I
regretted not having brought my magnifying glass.
Taking off my specs doesn't do it any more; I can't
focus any closer without than with.
Just focussed without at nearest point, put on specs,
and moved the letter an inch closer. The habit is still
firmly fixed, though; so fixed that when I notice that I
can't focus close up, I try to take them off a second
time.
I noticed that the coarser pieces weren't any cheaper
than the exquisitely-fine pieces, and the machine-knit
bedspreads were in the same price bracket with the
handwork. I was pleased to see knit brocade being
revived, though. I think that "brocade" was
Rutt's term for purl-bump patterns on a knit background.
I asked Dave -- we did pay to have the tent held, but
he didn't know how much. I forgot to ask what happened
to the barbecue in the pole barn.
Upon re-reading yesterday's post, I realized that the
first quote was supposed to have a "not" before
"diurnal". But by the time I reached that page, I'd
become so accustomed to odd ideas as to what words meant
that I didn't think of looking for a typo.
13 August 1998
Somebody stole the barbecue pit! All the concrete
blocks are missing.
Today was my day to extend my range. Well, I was
supposed to ride Sunday, but I didn't.
Rather good day; a lot of hills, including New Salem
Hill -- I got to brag about that in Berne -- and I got
home just tired enough to know I'd done myself some good.
My route was pleasant enough to be an official ride:
mostly rural -- I passed an archery range -- and two
country stores with lunch counters. The one in Knox
doesn't serve beverages, though -- you buy a bottle out
of the refrigerator case and take it to your table. Lots
of food on the menu. Naturally, I ate in Berne and drank
in Knox.
The country store in Westerlo used to have a full-
fledged lunch room, and probably still does, since Hannay
Reels is still a close neighbor. I noticed that a road
runs fairly straight from Westerlo to Berne, so I could
have a three-lunch tour the next time I want to travel a
bit farther. Four if you count Altamont, but on this
trip I didn't make the side trip to the Altamont Diner.
I did stop at the thrift shop, partly because my right
foot was starting to hurt & I thought that changing shoes
for a while would help it. Seems to have worked.
All the easily-visible books were romances, & I didn't
care to dig. Betwixt the sweat & the sunscreen I didn't
look too closely at the clothes, either -- though I
noticed that "large" was 12-14. I take a 16. Was
tempted by some of the housewares, particularly a box of
shish-kebab skewers that probably fit my Open Hearth
broiler. But the box was still sealed, & didn't have a
picture on it, so I have no idea what they are. I
presume they are skewers with a holder that fits into the
rotisserie attachment instead of the spit, but it didn't
say so.
On the way out, I found several buttonhooks for $3
each. You never know when you'll find a use for a
buttonhook, so I bought a well-formed hook in a handle
that appears to be real bone. The other well-formed hook
was probably part of a dresser set; there were some other
things that matched it. Must have been celluloid, I
don't think any other plastic dates back to buttonhooks,
but the handles were in perfect condition.
There was also a spur in that box; if it hadn't been
tagged "humane spur" I wouldn't have recognized it; I was
trying to see some sort of wishbone-shaped ornament or
grooming tool. And one rather expects spurs to come in
pairs.
Did some more garbage dyeing yesterday. Tansy flowers
gave a yellow-ecru, tansy leaves gave yellow-green, and
it stayed greenish when it dried. May be fading in the
light, though. Grape leaves were unimpressive, but now
that both are dry, they match the tansy flowers.
Since grape leaves are a substitute for alum in
pickling, I'd like to try them mixed with onion skin. I
also suspect them of being capable of dying plant fiber,
since I think it's tannin that gives them their pickle-
crisping power. The cotton string tied around the skein
of wool is only faintly colored, but contact with it did
stain the paper yellow. And I tagged it after rinsing
and blotting.
15 August 1998
Tried each tansy bath with a sixteenth teaspoon of
alum. Made no difference in the leaves, made the flowers
darker. Then I dumped the grape leaves into the flowers
and dyed another skein; no discernible difference from
the flowers-and-alum bath.
My trip seems to be firmed up. A bit of a whirlwind,
except for a little porch-sitting at Nancy's. I arrive
at Purdue on the afternoon of the 19th, visit briefly
with Alice & go up to Kendallville with her for the
reunion, then go home with Nancy, then rent a car and
drive down to Warsaw, then drive to Lafayette to catch
the return flight on September 2nd.
Haven't heard any druthers from the folks in Warsaw,
so I've settled on a default of Friday for going there.
I've got a ms. from Nancy Jane to read on the plane --
Nancy Jane Hansen, a member of the SF&F Workshop, which I
recently joined. I'd been hearing of the organization
for many years, but the name led me to believe that it
was an event & I never looked into it.
Hmm. There are at least two people on my mailing list
who don't know that Nancy's middle name is Jane.
Mine's Ann. And Alice's is Alice.
Cultivated the garden yesterday, & patched & extended
the mulch under the tomatoes. If I do it again Monday or
Tuesday, it should hold for two weeks. I picked a
tomato; it isn't quite red enough to eat yet. We've had
a few handfuls of the Tiny Tims, but never a full serving
at one time.
I expect most of the crop while we are gone; Dave says
he will pick them and throw them into the freezer.
Haven't touched my linen pants and shorts; at this
rate, I'll have only one pair of summer pants to pack.
Nor have I gone hunting for the black muslin I mean to
use for the passport pockets, and the parts that don't
show of the side pockets in the shorts. Clever cutting
didn't *quite* make it.
Druther have the pockets thinner than the shell fabric
anyway. Pants wear better that way. (But then, there's
the seam to attract wear. I'll make it as flat as I
can.)
Finally figured out a way to get a summer jersey
before frost: add pockets to a T-shirt. Now all I have
to do is to order some leno nylon from Rainshed, and find
a thick safety-yellow all-cotton T-shirt to buy. I think
I'll get an entire yard of the leno mesh, as I'll want it
when I make a jersey, and it may be good for other
things. Not to mention that with Shipping & Handling, I
might as well. I'm thinking of getting a swivel hook to
slide onto my key ring so I can clip it to my purse.
Thinking about this has made me realize that I want to
make the pockets in my garden shirts from the hex mesh
that was too coarse for jersey pockets. I thought about
this after putting some onions in my self-fabric pockets
while cultivating yesterday.
16 August 1998
Today's schedule calls for sewing in the morning,
napping in the afternoon, and exercising in the evening.
It's 10:40 and I haven't even looked at my linen
pants. I'd better make sure my denims are clean when I
leave, because I seriously don't want to wear wool, mock-
wool, or polywool.
Did press a few creases and put in a few stitches last
night. Found that I've already made self-fabric pockets
for the garden shirt. I'm thinking of using the mesh to
make bike-jersey pockets on the garden shirt; that gives
more room for onions & trowels anyhow.
The more pockets, the merrier.
22 August 1998 22
I had no idea that there was a railroad passing by the
bed and breakfast until about 4:30 this morning; ever
since, they have been passing continuously, or at least
often enough to suggest that there is more than one
track. When I heard the first whistle, I thought it was
some large machine in dire need of a lube.
I walked around a bit after writing that; now it's
5:00, and rush hour at the railroad seems to have ended.
I popped two pieces of a broken roll into my purse after
supper, and now I'm sorry that I didn't take the unbroken
roll too. I suppose I could eat one of my granola bars,
but I'm not that hungry.
Those times are by my New York watch; it's an hour
earlier here.
We saw Aunt Doris & Linda Jane Thursday, despite a
"distributor module" that gave out in Alice's car on the
way to Lebanon. She's driving a rented Mercury Topaz at
the moment, though it turns out she could have gotten her
own car back in time to make this trip. Pity I didn't
rent a car at Purdue Airport instead of having them pick
me up; it may well turn out that that would have been
cheaper than the one-way fee from Detroit.
The Macray Mansion Inn was once the home of a
refrigerator magnate & is nearly restored, though the
owners feel that they have a lot of work to do still.
Tuesday I made the annual discovery that I have no
clothes; this morning I'm making the annual discovery
that I don't know which buttons I push on my computer,
only where they are on the other keyboard.
24 August 1998
As I was preparing for bed, one of the wandering
thoughts that popped into my mind was: surely the
brochures displayed in the main entrance of the mansion
named its owners and mentioned its phone number!
Luckily, I'm the only member of the party who doesn't
need to feel embarrassed at overlooking something so
obvious for so long. No doubt those who woke up thought
of it sooner -- perhaps they did read one that night; I'm
not terribly straight on exactly what went on.
I'll tell the story tomorrow, if I feel like it.
25 August 1998
Buster and Buffy don't shed on everything the way Fred
& Frieda do.
At home, I never sleep before midnight or one in the
morning, but I've been going to bed as early as nine.
And I usually get my nap, too.
28 August 1998
Going to the airport to pick up a car this afternoon.
Just realized that I've got Northwestern tickets for
the 2nd -- and there's a strike scheduled for the 1st.
Saw the clawless house cat bullying one of the outdoor
cats -- I wonder what will happen when Tiger catches on .
. . .
29 August 1998
Later I saw Buster steal Tiger's mouse. Guess Tiger
isn't going to catch on any time soon.
I seem to have nothing to say when other people are
around; I'd never make a professional writer.
I'm at Joe and Lois's house now. Last stop before
Purdue International -- if the airline strike is settled.
I'm committed to leaving the rental car at Lafayette, but
I presume that they'd take it at Toledo where I got it.
Didn't think to ask Dave the name of our insurance
company when he called. I keep that sort of stuff in the
glove box and didn't have it with me.
Better the strike start now than later; folks might
have alternate arrangements worked out by Wednesday --
and I'm not stuck in an airport.
The story: they tell me that I slept through a great
deal of excitement on the first night at the Mansion when
a toilet valve got stuck & everyone paraded through my
room because the door to Alice's room was stuck and they
thought it was locked, and at one point Alice called the
police non-emergency number hoping they would know the
last name of the owners so she could look them up in the
phone book (They overlooked an entire wing when hunting
for doors to pound on.) so we were afraid of finding
ourselves in the local paper.
Just checked the brochure I brought away. There is
both a last name and a phone number.
But the pot didn't run over. Took only a few minutes
to repair it -- but he had to use the intercom to have
his wife shut off the water in the basement while he
worked. They hadn't quite got the hang of designing
plumbing when the mansion is built; there isn't even a
place where you can install a shut-off valve.
But the design of the shower has never been bettered
(apart from not being able to repair it); when it was
new, you could run water on your toe until you got it the
way you wanted it, then turn on the side sprayers or the
overhead shower. Which comes down in a nice narrow
stream, so you don't have to wash your hair unless you
want to.
And why did they throw away the recipe for that easy-
to-scrub skidproof ceramic tile?
30 August 1998
I've been sorting my garbage-dyed yarn, trying to find
the right one to splice on next, and reflecting that the
bright, primary colors so often dismissed as crude,
barbaric, primitive, and simplistic require a
sophisticated dyer or a high technological civilization,
preferably both.
Whereas you can boil a sophisticated mixed color out
of any weed, and though I've no hope of dyeing a "dead"
black, I've achieved several attractive grays.
I don't think that those who see the world in shades
of gray are as grown-up as they claim.
4 September 1998
Only my second night home, and already I'm back to my
old habit of sitting up until midnight.
Surprisingly little mail, after discounting the stack
of newspapers and two packages.
The package from Rainshed was a disappointment; leno
nylon is much too stiff to use for pockets, and too fine
a mesh for what I want it for. Should have sent for
swatches first.
I had high hopes for the reflective fabric swatches --
and they don't include the tapes I was interested in.
The "Illuminite" swatches that were included are dark and
ugly, and I can barely perceive the reflective quality.
Seem to be designed to provide minimal visibility for the
fellow who'd rather get run over than fail to follow
fashion.
But the two widths of cotton twill tape I bought are
thoroughly satisfactory, and different from the tapes
already in my collection.
The order from WEBS was a bigger disappointment.
After years of testing, I decided that Greylock 3/12
worsted is the best yarn for my socks and sent off for a
color card.
Instead of a card, I got a check for the price of it
an an excerpt from this month's mailing of samples.
After a long and profitable run, Greylock is being
discontinued.
On the other hand, the clear-out price is enough of a
bargain to justify sending an order for a lifetime
supply, which I did -- but I seriously doubt that I've
chosen the colors I'll want five years from now, and they
didn't have a good yellow. I picked white, natural, two
shades of gray, black, red, blue, green, and purple.
Also got five #000 needles to replace the three I've
mislaid, and a bottle of Eucalan Woolwash. Since I had
all my socks dirty at once, I tried out the Eucalan
today, on a load containing only socks, and a bandana
that had fallen into a puddle while I was taking out the
previous load. I have strong reservations about not
rinsing out the soap -- rumor has it that it really is
soap, not detergent -- but not rinsing does significantly
reduce the wear on the socks, and they did come out
nicely fluffy, they appear to be clean, and I don't smell
anything but wool when I sniff them.
Whoops, I missed a pair. I haven't unloaded my flight
bag yet.
When packing, I dismissed the bag that came with the
Oldsmobile because it loads like a sample case, but when
coming home, I packed the Tough Traveller case as though
it opened that way. That keeps the stuff I don't expect
to use out of the way at the bottom, sample-case packing
doesn't scramble as much when a half-full bag is jostled,
and most of the banging around happens when it's carried
by the handles, not when it's lying on its side.
On the other hand, the Tough Traveller bag also has
the option of being packed like a suitcase, if you are
carrying mainly clothes, and the two-way zipper lets me
get stuff from different parts of the case without
opening it all the way -- provided that I remember what I
put where.
On the third hand, about halfway across O'Hare, I
wished I'd brought the larger Tough Traveller case even
though this one just barely fit under the seat of a Beech
1999. The larger one converts into an excellent
backpack.
Turns out that trading tickets wasn't near as much
trouble as getting rid of the rental car. The ticket
agents were delighted that Celtic had already made my
arrangements, and they thanked me repeatedly for coming
in so early. Dave says that he checked United's Web
site, and found an offer to honor any Northwestern
ticket.
First I nearly forgot to turn the keys in at all, then
while I was waiting for a family to rent a car, I heard
the agent telling them to bring it back full. So when my
turn came, she gave me directions to a cluster of filling
stations & I grabbed the first one on the right, then
pulled up to the wrong side of the pumps. After locating
my filler pipe, I backed up and pulled in again, filled
and paid without too much trouble, then discovered that
there was no way to get back onto route 26, let alone
turn left onto it. Blundered about in the residential
area until I found an exit, then stopped at the little
shopping center by Follet's West. I'd been planning to
walk there for lunch, but I didn't think I could digest
with business still pending, so I bought a pork barbecue
sandwich and a pint bottle of milk -- really a bottle,
and molded to suggest a glass milk bottle -- and put them
in my flight bag, which was still with me (I'd checked my
hardsiders).
Returned the key -- "What's the mileage?" Parked my
flight bag on the counter & refused the offer of the key,
since I'd left the car unlocked. Hiked back across the
road and the railroad tracks to discover that the
odometer had an LCD readout. Went back for the key, and
this time got the desired information.
After eating my lunch, instead of knitting, I found an
un-occupied bench and tried to nap. After the gate
opened, I parked in the corner with my back on the carpet
and my legs on a chair. (All this while there was an
unearthly but companionable silence among the passengers,
and it continued on the plane, save for an almost-
whispered "You dropped this" and "thank you" when I lost
Key Out Of Time while changing seats. (The seat
marked on my ticket offered a fine view of the engine,
and the seat in front of me was unoccupied.)
When I felt up to knitting, I moved from my dark
corner to a a chair with its back to the window, and
almost at once stopped work to twist round and watch them
load our baggage. Was much puzzled over something that
looked like an animal cage, and was hoping it didn't go
into the baggage hold. Had about decided it was a step-
stool for the baggage handlers to climb into the plane
when one of the handlers picked it up like something to
be careful of, and carried it toward the front of the
plane. When she set it down at the foot of the plane's
stairs, which didn't quite reach the pavement, I said
"Oh!"
In ordinary circumstances, that would have been
inaudible, but when I turned around, the woman in the
seat across from me was laughing silently, and we
exchanged a conspiratorial glance.
I impressed people by saying the Saab I went from
Detroit to Lafayette on was so small there were only
three seats to a row, two on one side and one on the
other. In the Beech, there was only one seat on each
side of the aisle.
Had trouble picking the terminal out from the other
buildings as we were taking off.
Which was a while after we taxied out to the runway.
After all the safety stuff -- which was recorded -- the
pilot announced that they had no place for us to land at
O'Hare yet, and we were going to sit for ten minutes.
Grateful for the information, I took out my knitting,
which is too spiky to expose during takeoff or taxiing.
Certainly beats circling the airport. Perhaps traffic
controllers are getting their act together.
6 September 1998
When I made potato salad the day before yesterday, I
unvented a new way to peel boiled eggs. I put in six,
since they were pullet eggs and Dave had said that he
likes an eggy potato salad. (Can't detect them, even
though I used only a few potatoes.)
So I had time to think about it. Instead of putting
them into the sink cautiously, then whapping them
cautiously, I dropped each egg from about eighteen
inches. Thereafter, all I had to do was unwrap it. In
addition to being pullet eggs, these have unusually tough
membranes; I don't think a standard two-ounce egg would
stand for more than twelve inches.
An unusually restrained recipe: Not enough Yukon Gold
potatoes to cover the bottom of my five-quart Farberware
pot, six brown pullet eggs, one head of green dill seed,
one small onion, the central bud of a bunch of celery, a
dash of tobasco, two serving spoons of mayonnaise, and
the top two or three inches of a quart of un-homogenized
yoghurt. No garlic.
The salad was sloppy when I was stirring it, but it
seems a trifle dry now, and the potatoes firmed up when
they cooled. I boiled new potatoes an old-potato time,
and thought I was making mashed-potato salad. So I
didn't cut them quite so small as I should have.
13 September 1998
Exciting week: we got the shed moved yesterday, and
Talham is coming tomorrow to plaster the cellar.
So I'm dithering over what to move into the shed. I'm
going to take all the garden tools out except the cart
(two steps up into the shed, since I insisted on denying
privacy to the groundhogs), but I want to take the vacuum
cleaner out first and use the crevice tool to blow dust
out of the cracks.
Hope I can find that much extension cord!
Took a long ride Tuesday & slept through Wednesday.
Almost. Took a morning nap, took the usual afternoon
nap, then went to bed at eight or nine. Did me good, I
think, but next time I'll remember to put candy in my
pocket. Was almost home before I thought about it, since
I'd had a huge lunch at Crossgates (no more
combination plates!) & it was too much trouble to pull
off the road and dig around in my purse, but I shoulda.
Was a mistake to stop at the library, too, since my legs
stiffened up and were sore all evening.
I didn't make it up Grant Hill. I think it was a case
of the flesh is willing, but the spirit is weak. I'd
gotten so tired hiking around Crossgates, and there was
so little to see, that even though riding perked me up
again, I wasn't in a mood to push myself.
And I'd forgotten all about taking a mint every few
miles. When you feel hungry, it's a bit late.
Thursday, I think it was, I was washing dishes when I
heard a great clatter of overturning glass jars. (Must
remember to gather them up into boxes before the cellar
repairman arrives.) Went to the stairway to see what had
happened and met Frieda coming up with a live chipmunk in
her mouth. I decided to pick her up, carry her outside,
and make her drop the chipmunk.
She begged to differ & we took several laps around the
downstairs, with me cussing the genius who decided to rip
all the doors out of the doorways, then Frieda dashed up
the stairs and into the bedroom. It still has a door,
but I had mixed feelings about trapping her in there,
because she could hide under the bed forever. But she
dropped the chipmunk and he ran into the closet.
Luckily, he stuck to one corner to hide in, and Frieda
eagerly showed me which corner it was, so after
scattering a few dozen shoes and whatnot over the
bedroom, I caught Mr. Munk with my bare hands, having
nothing else handy. Considered putting him into a
shoebox, but doubted my ability to get the lid closed
before he went elsewhere. Now is a fine time to think
that I could have induced him to run into one of the old
boots that I had flung aside; these are theatrical boots
with soft, floppy tops I could fold over like a lunch
bag.
For some strange reason, he didn't bite me. I turned
him loose in the flowerbed. He was limping, but he felt
rather plump in my hands, so he might be able to hide out
until he heals.
Or maybe that was Friday; I seem to have mislaid
Friday. Somewhere in there I got the garden cultivated &
I'm almost through unpacking the suitcases. I washed the
laundry bag today, so it's ready to put back in the
suitcases. (I pack all the softsiders inside the hanger
case.) But I want to make a smaller laundry bag, and a
little bag for grooming supplies.
The garlic chives were in excellent condition -- until
I planted them in the north flowerbed; now they are all
droopy. I water them every day & hope they'll perk up
come spring.
When preparing for the shed move, I cut down a lilac
that I mistook for the second trunk of a honeysuckle
bush. Thought it looked like lilac, but when I looked
closer, I got hold of a branch off the birch growing
beside it, which I planned to cut down too, since birch
is a bug-magnet in this climate. Didn't; it turned out
to be so rotten at the base that I pulled it up instead.
So it looks better, but I'm put out about the lilac.
Still hoping that the stump -- which is flush to the
ground -- will send up shoots.
14 September 1998
All sorts of hammering and banging coming out of the
cellar. No digging where the new cement walk will go,
but there's a cement mixer in the driveway.
Haven't seen the cats lately. I looked under the bed.
18 September 1998
I got up for a four-o'clock feeding this morning &
read mail and wrote a message until after five, which
left me rather grumpy when the alarm went off at six.
But all in all, I feel much better than I did after my
previous ride. I probably went through half a sack of
spearmint candies, and I had a much smaller lunch: a
Walmart taco salad without sour cream.
They didn't have any kraut, grump. Saurkraut cuts the
hot peppers.
I intended to take this ride a week ago, but postponed
it until Saturday for some reason, then we had the shed
moving on Saturday, I didn't want to shop on Sunday, the
cellar was plastered Monday and Tuesday -- and the
bluestone walk replaced with concrete; we still haven't
put the steps back. They got bumped one too many times
and I don't trust them. Plan to have a new step made --
a simple box, since the concrete walk is higher, and one
step will do.
Went to the Windowbox Tuesday, since neither of us had
had a lunch there, & Dave's pager went off for a
motorcycle fire when he was about three fourths of the
way through his sandwich. I was alarmed at finding only
a walnut-sized ball of yarn in my purse, but I'd not
completed the first round after the cast-on when he came
back. One way or the other, a motorcycle fire doesn't
take long. Surprising it lasted until he got there. It
had two fuel tanks and only one burned through; perhaps
fuel was running little by little through the fuel lines.
It was a Harley, too. Dave thinks that it may be
possible to rebuild it.
Came home to find the concrete people out to lunch and
Tommy George's truck in the drive. None too soon; the
locust was tipping a little more each day. Seems to me
that pruning up the sound tree was more trouble than
felling the bad one, but he didn't charge extra for it.
I don't recall what I did with Wednesday.
Grand tour yesterday. Hit the bank for $300 &
SuperValu for the aforementioned bag of spearmints. I
don't think they last as long as peppermints, though they
look to be the same size and density. Thence down
Normanskill/Johnston/Rapp & around Crossgates to Walmart.
If I take that tour again, I'll go clockwise instead of
counterclockwise on the ring road.
Went past MJ Designs; they had burlap potato bags for
99<¢s;> and "hay bales" for six dollars. The bales
were a poor grade of straw, sloppily baled.
Bought two pillows at Walmart -- thought I might have
to go back for bungee cords, but I had enough. The $1
fabric table was missing -- has it gone the way of the
50<¢s;> table? On the way out, I noticed the sport
department & went to the fishing gear to hunt for swivel
snaps. Found 'em, and a new brass swivel is a lovely
thing. They are not for things that you want to snap on
and off, however; a fisherman's snap is designed to be
hard to undo. I put a half-inch split ring -- one of the
four I bought in Warsaw -- through the two I bought, and
attached them to one of the rings on my purse. I have
the Mobil "speed pass" on one; haven't made any permanent
decision about the other.
But before I found the swivel snaps, I discovered that
fishermen use teeny-tiny stainless-steel split rings!
What for, I don't know, but I bought six each of sizes 4,
5, 6, & 7. The numbers might be the inner diameters in
millimeters. I'll use two of the #4 rings to replace the
half-inch rings on my tatting pins; the remainder are
stashed away in case of inspiration.
Then a side trip to Sysco, where I bought a bottle of
Dawn and a bottle of House Recipe ketchup, thence to
Price Chopper, the object of the tour: we're running low
on cat food, & I had a Frequently Friskies coupon for a
free bag of the large size that SuperValu doesn't carry.
Got two bags of cat food & a pint of chocolate milk,
which latter I disposed of on the spot, while re-
arranging the load to make space for the chow.
Then across Gipp to Paradise for walnuts and raisins,
and home by way of the library, where I got two knitting
books -- but didn't sit down and read!
This time I spread the raisins out in a cake pan
before putting them in the freezer, and came back in a
few hours to put them back into the bag. I'm tired of my
raisins freezing together into an impossible lump.
The soap and ketchup are still out in the pannier.
And I left the pillows on the lawn mower.
Ironic that I bought Dawn for laundry, because I've
got laundry liquid in my dish-soap dispenser. I ran out
of dish soap, used laundry soap, and found that it worked
just fine, except for being about half as strong so that
I need twice as much. So I decided to stop bothering to
stock two kinds.
And if the Dawn doesn't stop my blacks from bleeding,
I'll still use up the rest of it on clothes, because it
irritated my hands something awful when I bought a bottle
several years ago.
Good thing I had the episode with the dish soap first,
since I'll know to use half as much Dawn as laundry soap.
The ingredient that is supposed to make Dawn strip
excess dye is ethanol; I could have just dumped a little
rubbing alcohol in with my regular soap.
I've worn my theatrical boots a few times. They feel
too tight when I first put them on, but soon mold to the
feet and feel like a pair of socks.
Strictly leisure shoes, though, because I could no
more walk in them than I could walk in socks, except for
having non-skid soles.
21 September 1998
I dropped a tapestry needle while I was darning a sock
yesterday, and found a #000 knitting needle when I went
down into the leather chair after it.
The tapestry needle turned up in the pocket of my
smock.
I think that the needle I found makes enough to keep
two pairs of socks going at once. Since I'm working on
two pairs now, that may come in handy. (One is still on
#0 needles; I'm working the tops looser than the feet.)
Can't proceed on the onion-dyed socks until my Webs
package comes -- I'm beginning to think something is
wrong. Looked at the checkbook to see when I'd sent the
order, & remembered that I used the credit card because I
didn't know how many colors would still be in stock. I
think there's a web page where I can find out whether
it's been charged to our account. Or rather, where Dave
can -- he knows the password.
Finished my purple socks yesterday, so there are a lot
of loose needles. Well, they are almost finished -- when
I was tying off the second one, I dropped a stitch &
couldn't pick it up without a crochet hook, sunlight, and
a magnifying glass, so I went to bed.
22 September 1998
Purple socks are in my drawer.
I went to Olsen's yesterday and bought three pots of
lemon thyme -- clearance priced at 3/$5. Planted them
this morning, in the unexpected little flower bed the new
walk marks off.
Dave said he wanted marigolds. I'll try direct
seeding some next spring.
It's less than three weeks since I sent Webs my yarn
order, but I wish they'd get on with it.
Just as I was settling down to my nap, the UPS man
came -- and I want to cast on that red right away.
The only yarn that was sold out was brown -- and brown
is the easiest color to dye on my own. (I got extra
cones of white and natural for garbage-dyeing
experiments.)
So I've got red, blue, green, purple, two grays,
black, white, and natural. Hope I can live with those
colors -- this is a lifetime supply of sock yarn.
Dave went up to bed, then called down that the cat had
thrown up again. She got two sheets and a blanket, for
which I'm grateful -- I had two suitcases and uncounted
pillows on the bed at the time. She didn't get the
mattress pad, which has to be shaken out the window, and
I was going to change sheets tomorrow anyway.
Somewhat to my surprise, I got all the new yarn into
the closet underneath my previous supply of sock yarn.
This purchase got me back on Webs' sample list. I
presume that the next mailing will announce that they are
replacing Greylock with 4/16 worsted, or a 3/12 longwool,
or something I didn't know enough to want.
23 September 1998
Frieda caught a mouse about four in the morning -- I
think; didn't make a note of the time. She ran up and
down the stairs with it until I got fed up and caught it
myself. Took it downstairs between cupped hands & faced
a door that requires both hands to open when it's locked.
Luckily, there was a glass pint jar in the recycling
bin; I put the jar into a mop bucket & dropped Mr. Mouse
into the jar; he was too beat to climb out of the jar
before I got the door open & dumped him into the flower
bed.
It was cold today, and they are predicting light frost
in vulnerable areas.
I'm planning to ride to Kim's Oriental for tea and
instant soup tomorrow, & decided to take milk & fruit
bars, since food I buy along the way tends to be too
spicy and greasy to agree with me when I'm exercising.
Went to freeze milk, & could find only one plastic baby
bottle. I'm sure we had two. I poured a little milk
into a spaghetti-sauce jar, & will look for a trash bin
after I drink it.
Pity I can't pick up a comic-book box at Canterbury
Tales; a box bungeed to the bike is very handy for
packing fragile packets of noodles -- and we have comic
books all over the floor. I never did find out where
Canterbury Tales went, but there's a used-book store in
Delmar now.
24 September 1998
Finally bought a gasket for my blender.
I can't remember where I put the blender.
The Tandy store is gone and the space is for rent. No
need to go back to that shopping center until I wear out
a printer ribbon!
Which makes today's discovery most apropos. I went to
Central Avenue by way of Voorheesville Avenue, which
changes its name at various marked and unmarked spots to
Normanskill Road, Johnstown Road, Rapp Road, and Lincoln
Avenue. With a little bypass on Springsteen & Frontage
on the way out, because of a one-way stretch. Except
that I bypassed on Crossgates' Ring Road, because I
wanted to make a side trip to Walmart.
Anyhow, while cruising along Lincoln Avenue, I noticed
a sign saying that during certain hours, all traffic must
divert into Petra Lane. I forget which hours, but I
presume that they want Lincoln to be one-way out during
evening rush hour. Well, I'd never had any idea that
Petra Lane went anywhere, so I pulled out my maps at the
next decent parking spot, and found that Petra connects
to Central by way of Jupiter Lane. I noted the name,
since it would be convenient not to have to come all the
way back to Lincoln on Central.
Lo and behold, Jupiter meets Central
precisely at Kim's! I'd always taken it for the
entrance to a parking lot, which it more-or-less is. It
dead-ends not too far after sweeping around the large
building which had hidden its continuation, but one of
its side roads has a side road, etc. I was rather
pleased with myself for finding the way without
consulting the map -- and a good thing that was; not all
of those little streets are on the map. On most of the
turns I could see dead ends, on one or two I looked to
see which street had traffic.
The price of saimen seems to have risen; hard to tell,
as few of the packages were marked, and those were the
less-interesting brands. Much less selection, too. Got
a few packets of saimen, three flavors of tea bags, a
small bottle of chinese soy sauce, rice vinegar, double-
strength vinegar, and "Wild Sweet Rice".
Wild sweet rice is very dark seeds of some plant that
may or may not be a variety of common rice, in a vacuum-
sealed bag that was stiff and board-like until I
punctured it. Boiled up half a cup with two cups of
water, which was at least twice too much. Turned the
water perfectly black. The rice was done in less than
half an hour, and didn't get squishy. The seeds tasted
fine without salt, but I thought the broth could use a
dash of soy sauce. Opened the new bottle of sauce,
sniffed it, then chickened out and used shoyu. Still a
little pale -- in taste, not in color! -- so I also added
a dash of balsamic vinegar.
Not bad. I'd say that wild sweet rice would make
excellent black-bean soup. Not the kind they
pure, though.
Also got a packet of Annatto food color -- ten grams
for fifty cents. I'm pretty sure annatto is fugitive,
but I'm going to boil it with wool and see what happens.
I wonder whether the red button that used to come in
white margarine was annatto?
25 September 1998
The morning paper can't talk about anything but
Clinton. This is a strange affair -- he stole money, he
made false accusations, he wrecked careers and ruined
reputations, he corrupted all his associates, he used the
FBI to assemble a blackmail file, but nobody got excited
until we found out he had engaged in adolescent fumbling.
I don't have the least hang-over of fatigue from
yesterday's expedition. This is due more to Dave's
condition than mine, though. He turned off the radio and
went back to sleep, so I didn't have to get up until I
was ready. It isn't eight o'clock yet, though.
I don't know whether it's the cold he's coming down
with, or he meant to take Friday off & forgot to turn off
the alarm.
He told Harvey that he was going to retire at the end
of the year, and says that Harvey didn't take it well.
Later he said that he planned to offer to work three days
a week, by way of getting used to it. I don't think he's
discussed this with Harvey yet.
For a while, I thought that I'd go to the Men's dinner
and Dave wouldn't, but I never heard when and where the
waitresses were to meet, couldn't find my Auxiliary
telephone-number list, and Judy (Dave knew her number)
wasn't in. And Dave got to feeling better between the
time he got off work and time to leave, and went after
all. He came home early, but not so early as I'd
expected.
I stopped at Crossgates Commons for lunch and a pit
stop -- there's a picnic table with an umbrella near MJ
Designs -- and spent more time in Walmart than in Kim's.
I'm beginning to learn how to find my way around in
Walmart. I used to grouse that they ought to have arrows
pointing at the entrance; yesterday I learned that the
main road is marked by red lines on each side.
And on the way out, I noticed a hand-drawn "you are
here" map on a pillar near the service center.
I bought a 72<¢s;> pack of #10 snap swivels and,
because I'd forgotten to include any fat in my lunch, a
can of peanuts.
Don't know whether Dave has noticed them yet. It's
dangerous for me to have peanuts around, so he seldom
gets them.
Oddly, I don't gomph up almonds, hazelnuts, etc. At
least not so bad.
Perhaps it's because they are ingredients.
27 September 1998
Dave noticed the peanuts -- not before I'd eaten at
least a quarter of the can.
I've caught his cold. That's wreaking havoc with the
diet too, because my sore throat feels ever so much
better when I'm eating something.
I've been making weak hot lemonade, or a sort of tea,
out of sweetened lemon juice -- the last of what we saved
from the drip cup.
I rode my bike to the fireman's convention on Russell
Road yesterday, and missed my nap, and got a lot of
exercise trotting back and forth during the parade -- it
hurts to stand still for any length of time.
Then, after getting too groggy to do anything, I put
down my book intending to go up to bed, & glanced at
Robots of Dawn to see whether I'd already read it
& therefore had wasted the 25<¢s;> I spent on it at
the Methodist bazaar on the way to the convention, &
ended up staggering to bed about three in the morning.
Then I finished the book this morning, and you know
that a hair of the dog really isn't a good treatment for
a hangover.
Not to mention that while I was reading, it became
undeniable that I've caught cold. And it's past the time
I usually have a nap.
Surprisingly, I don't feel bad at all.
I'm pretty sure I had read Robots of Dawn
before, but I didn't recall whodunnit.
Left me meditating on the prevalence of trilogies (the
first two books are Caves of Steel and The
Naked Sun) as evidence of the human tendency to think
in threes. Most trilogies are built in Beginning,
Middle, and End, which leaves the middle book rather dull
on its own. This one, I've read, Asimov intended to be
Thesis, Antithesis, and Synthesis. I had several other
triplethink forms in mind at three this morning.
29 September 1998
Dave says that he's getting over his cold. Since he's
only three days ahead of me, this gives me hope -- but
I'm still getting worse.
We stuffed envelopes for the calendar drive this
evening. I sat at the very end of the production line.
Blew some dust out of the shed this afternoon. Got
most of the loose stuff off the ceilings & walls, but
cleaning the floors is mostly a matter of keeping the
dirt in motion until it wanders out one of the doors. I
can get some of it with a push broom.
When I clean the packed dirt out of the half-inch
cracks, that should make it easier to sweep the dirt
outside! A lot of the cracks blew clear, but quite a lot
is wedged in.
Have to wash the dust mask -- hope I've got another
stashed somewhere.
30 September 1998
I wonder how the nutritionist feels about getting most
of your calories from cough drops?
2 October 1998
Frieda brought me two mice yesterday evening. She
brought me two more this evening. I hope that uses up
the litter. Only one was in viable condition -- threw
all four into the flower bed.
Spent most of my time today patching & washing Dave's
nightshirt. Caught up on the ironing, but I chickened
out of ironing my flowered white blouse & decided it was
time to put it away for the winter.
I'm fighting the semi-annual crunch in my closet, as
the winter clothes come out before the summer clothes get
packed away. I'm out of suit hangers already, with most
of my turtlenecks still in the drawer. I'll have to go
to K-Mart and look for some of those very cheap suit
hangers that don't take up as much room in the closet as
good hangers do; they support high necks just as well as
the good ones.
I can say I've touched my sewing now -- I had to move
it off the ironing board.
And now I've got to move it back so I can use the bed.
3 October 1998
Frieda appeared in the office with another mouse
tonight. My first clue was crunch-crunch-crunch behind
me -- she had decided not to show this one off!
I pretended not to notice, and she didn't leave any
mess on the floor. I have a feeling that tomorrow I'll
find it somewhere, mixed with wet cat chow.
I hope it isn't in the bed this time.
My cough is much better today, and I can speak -- I'm
a baritone, but that's an improvement. Scared Nancy H.
when she called on the phone; she hadn't heard what I
sounded like before.
Spent most of the day mending my wool tights and long-
sleeved jersey.
Thought a gentle & cautious ride to the apple festival
on the Altamont Fairground would be good for my recovery,
but after getting up at 4:00, I didn't feel like it.
(Especially since it's cool enough that I needed to wear
said pants and shirt.)
Somebody torched a shed. Dave responded, but I'm
coughing often enough that I felt that the firemen would
rather I didn't meddle with their liquid refreshments.
Robin was the only one that showed up, and she was late.
She insists on brewing coffee before going to the scene.
I'd have grabbed a case of Coke and come back to fill a
jug with coffee.
So I should have gone; cokes are sealed, and I don't
have to touch the cans.
Today Dave went to Westmere Beverage to buy a case of
bottled water, & put some on every truck. There had been
bottles on the trucks, but most of the guys thought it a
silly idea, so there weren't enough to go around.
Opinions have now changed. I told Dave he should stash
an extra case on the bus.
The tank on the old bus was never filled, so they
didn't bother to put one on the new bus. I suggested to
Dave that they put a jug of washing-up water on the bus;
if it's in plain sight, people will see that it's low and
know what to do about it. I considered taking on
responsibility for keeping the old tank full, but never
found out where it was or how to fill it. And if I had,
no-one would have used it because they'd have assumed it
was empty.
Or moldy.
I greatly fear that the arsonist won't be caught.
Random acts of destruction seem to be all the rage among
our young men -- just a day or two ago, the sheriff
caught six of the boys who had been smashing mailboxes
for several weeks.
4 October 1998
I'm proud of little Frieda. Dave says that when he
came in from getting the paper this morning, she loudly
ordered him to refill the water dish, and when he didn't
get the point, she followed him into the kitchen, jumped
onto the sink, and dramatized her problem. She doesn't
understand English the way Claude did, but she has
mastered communication.
I must have been further out of it than I thought
yesterday. I usually change the water at least twice a
day, and the dish holds enough to last two cats much
longer than one day.
5 October 1998
Ever since Dave started chemotherapy, I've been
telling him "You have red spots all over your face." I
said it again last night even though it's nearly cleared
up and the spots are fading into his normally-red
complexion.
He answered, "Is it barn paint?"
The shed looks much better now. And I've nearly got
it broomed out. Dug dirt out of about half the cracks
this morning. When a crack half an inch wide disappears,
the floor is *dirty*!
I don't think I've mentioned that Dave's skin doctor
decided that since Dave's dad had skin cancer, Dave
should do something about his keratosis (sunburn scars).
So he gave him a face cream that selectively attacks
rapidly-growing cells, followed, once it had gotten
really icky, by desinide lotion to clear it up. He was,
of course, at the absolute ugliest stage during the men's
dinner at the Albany County firemen's convention.
He says that not once during the treatment did anybody
mention it, or ask what was going on.
The apple festival was on again on Sunday, but it
didn't sound like much fun, so I went garage sale-ing up
Rock Hill Road. Turned out to be an excellent choice of
route; since it was up hill all the way, I didn't worry
that I might be a long way from home when I'd had enough.
Sales were thoroughly picked-over, of course, and not
much to see. I think one of them closed before I got
there -- either that or I should have gone on a few more
feet, but I believe that Rock Hill officially ends where
Upper Flat Rock blends in.
7 October 1998
Finally resumed work on my linen pants today. I was
starting on the inseams, and thinking that they were
beginning to look like pants, when I tore my thumb on a
pin. Got a second blood spot on the cloth while rubbing
the first one with a wet rag, so I decided I'd better
knock off for the night and clot. Both spots in the seam
allowance, luckily. Blood never comes out entirely.
Put three rows of topstitching on the mock-fell side
seams, since linen frays easily, and I'm rather pleased
at how it turned out. But it's not quite so neat that
I'd consider using a contrast thread next time!
The sign says that they'll put the last layer of
pavement on the curve at the grade school tomorrow -- I
hope the predicted rain doesn't stop them. The road past
SuperValu is no longer worse than unimproved, and they've
put ramps around the drains in the tunnel -- I've gone
almost fifteen MPH the last two times I went through.
So the "Bump" sign at the gentle ramp up onto the
bridge paving is no longer quite absurd.
They've also added "Bump" signs at the worst of the
ditches across the road between the two bridges.
Hope I don't continue to think I've got worlds of time
to cross the road when I see a car a quarter-block away
after the work is finished.
But I won't be crossing the road after the work is
finished. I sometimes used Pine before the construction
started, but there's no reason to zig-zag to come out
exactly opposite the parking-lot entrance when they
aren't digging up the road.
I'll bet that SuperValu wish they had a back door to
the parking lot! (I often do.)
There's a sign up thanking people for sticking by them
during the construction -- but you pretty much have to go
through it to get out of town to go to some other store.
10 October 1998
There's a hard surface on the approach to the tunnel
in front of SuperValu! Guess that means that they are
through digging it up. I didn't go through the tunnel or
over the bridge, though. Sign says they'll be paving
Monday. Was planned for last Thursday, but it's been
raining almost constantly since then.
The craft fairs I meant to bicycle to today were
rather dampened. One guy had some interesting shirts,
but hadn't bothered to put price tags on anything except
the jumbo umbrellas. I think I saw some of those around
the fair.
Went to Beyond the Tollgate, since I was out that way,
but didn't see anything interesting -- except some suit
fabrics I might want to look into later. A few fabrics
that made me wish I had my blouse pattern perfected, but
nothing to practice in. Wallmart had nothing either; I
must go to Alfred's soon, since I already know what
changes I want to make in the next shirt. I finally
resumed sewing, and have the pants all done but for the
waistbands and the hem, and the shirt done but for the
hooks and eyes to close the front. Oh, yes, I forgot to
sew the patch pockets on the shirt.
The linen pants iron up beautiful, but I suspect that
they will muss so fast that they look slept-in before I
get them off the hanger.
Cure might be to actually sleep in them, to get so
many wrinkles in that they cancel each other.
The fair-workers party was in the engine room tonight
-- it's still going on, Dave isn't home yet. I left when
the band started playing. I'd eaten several times what
my diet allows before they served the chicken.
I left without even seeing the cake. Missed my nap
today, & was overstuffed, so I didn't circulate much.
When Dave was applying his daily dose of Desinide
lotion today, he said "When you can't see where to put
it, it must be time to quit using it."
13 October 1998
Fred is an Olympic-class nap taker, and his preferred
event is Horizontal Human. So he's always around when
I'm upstairs, just in case it's naptime. He's learned to
jump onto the bed when the phone rings, because I have
one hand free to pet the cat when I sit on the bed to
answer the phone.
Mary called to give me her new address the other day
(302 Northwest 81st Street Seattle, Washington 98117) and
we talked long enough for Fred to really get into it.
And long enough for Frieda to realize that she was
missing out -- she suddenly leaped onto the bed and froze
with such an astonished neglected-orphan stare that I
broke up.
Don't know what I told Mary.
The last time I was at SuperValu -- for the Library's
disappointing craft fair -- I saw a bike rider come
through the tunnel, but I haven't had the guts to try it
myself yet. I try to keep up with traffic through the
stretch where it isn't safe to pass, because people
insist on passing anyway, and I don't like to travel at
high speed over a road that's never the same twice.
Dave says they got a lot of work done at the grade
school yesterday, but aren't finished.
The new intersection is a really stupid design. They
wanted a stop light, so they re-routed the roads to
require a stop light, and it's harder to turn left with
the help of the light than it used to be without one.
The good news: the perpetual pothole in the bike lane
is gone.
The bad news: so is the bike lane.
I was crawling the Web a few days ago and found a yarn
shop in Frankfort! 508 S. Main St.
Just sent off an order for fifty dollars' worth of
knitting books. Barbara Walker's Second Treasury -- in
paperback -- accounts for thirty dollars of it. Drooled
over the Shetland yarn and the Aran yarn for a while, but
couldn't think of a good excuse.
There are already more needlework books on the shelf
than will fit. I'll have to rearrange something.
I have a set of fabric samples on order -- Dharma's
undyed silks range in price from 2.11/yard to 9.95 & I've
finally decided that I'm going to have some silk
underwear. Probably the silk twill at 7.51/yd, 45" wide.
Pity I can't hope to find dyed silks at similar
prices. Dying wouldn't cost much when it's done in
quantity, but the retailer would have to keep at least
ten times as many bolts in stock, and you have to pay him
to do it.
Ordered a couple of Dharma's Beefy Ts while I was at
it. When I wanted to put an old T shirt into my suitcase
to wear for a pajama top, I discovered that all the old
shirts are too old, and the newer ones are
polyester, or have some other reason I wouldn't want to
sleep in them.
15 October 1998
Frieda is intently watching the space under the stove,
no doubt hoping for a replacement for the mouse I threw
into the flowerbed. Dave ratted on her when she'd had
hardly any fun at all; it was lively enough that I almost
didn't catch it -- had it hidden at the other end of the
space under the convector, it might have squeezed down
beside the pipes instead of cowering behind a golf ball.
It dashed for that end when I reached for it, but my left
hand blocked it.
Then there was the fun of trying to get out from under
the table while not squeezing a struggling mouse.
16 October 1998
Smoke was resting on our walk, but when he noticed me
looking through the window, he left. He seems to be
afraid of me, so I try not to get too close. He'll let
Dave pet him, if Dave asks nicely.
He improved for a while after coming back from the
vet, and there's dark thick fur on the shaved spot, but
now it's apparent that he hasn't long to live. His fur
looks like a rug that's been washed in hot water, and fur
is about all that's covering his bones.
Danny has the worst luck with cats -- when Smoke dies,
Booker and Ink will be all that are left.
Both look healthy, and neither seems inclined to go
out toward the road.
17 October 1998
One of the thank-you notes with the calendar-drive
contributions said "Please forgive our false alarms as we
deal with an aging mother who loves to cook."
22 October 1998
Getting on toward time to close the window that opens
out of the garage into the woodshed. Also time to start
making sure our wonderful modern windows are locked so
that they won't open themselves.
Good day for mail order. The UPS man plunked my books
from Schoolhouse and my T-shirts and fabric samples from
Dharma into the entry about three, then I went out to the
mailbox and found Rivendale Reader #13 and Medrith
Glover's Fall/Winter Descriptive Price List. Also the
November-December Poets & Writers and, alas, two issues
of Crochet World that I've promised to index.
First evidence that the editor got my e-mail; I was
thinking about re-sending the query by snail.
The silk twill would make lovely pockets for wool
pants, if only it came in black.
I have a wool blanket that's in good condition except
for the satin binding. I've been studying the 19.5 mm
Charmeuse sample and thinking about replacing the binding
with real satin; the blanket is pastel, so white would do
fine.
It's 45" wide, so I calculate that a piece as long as
the width of a blanket would do eight blanket-ends.
So now all I need is three more blankets! Even at ten
dollars a yard, silk is too expensive to waste, and
piecing the binding would spoil the effect.
Just realized that I'd have to sew it on by hand.
Cancel entire project.
Rode to Beyond the Tollgate this morning & bought two
yards of yellow plaid cotton. Figure it will make two
bandannas and two three-cornered scarves. Hope it
doesn't get thick after I shrink it!
The "heavy gauze" from Dharma looks a good bit like
the feed sacks Mom used to make play clothes from. I
don't think it's as heavy, and I don't remember the sacks
being crinkled. The gauze isn't near as crinkled as
seed-corn sacks; it might be only mussed.
23 October 1998
Haste makes slow. I was dashing up and down the
cellar steps, and the last time I went down, I took one
step fewer than the staircase did.
Whereupon I went down. Seem to have sprained my
ankle, so I figure I should put it up when I sit, and sit
as much as I can. We've got a crutch left over from when
the doctor numbed the wrong nerve in Dave's leg, and I
once found a cane that fits me at a garage sale & bought
it for just such an emergency.
Kinder hard to set the table that way, though.
25 October 1998
Is only a bruised foot -- still swollen and blue, but
it will bear my weight if I'm careful how I put it down,
and I've given up using a cane in the house except when
going up or down steps.
It's astounding how much trotting around there is to
sedentary work. I unearthed a cobbler apron from the
sixties, and that helped when my hands were occupied.
Sigh. I just checked the span to our trip to New York
to see The Phantom of the Opera. I'll be healed by then,
but still out of shape from sitting all the time.
Should call Capitaland Racquet and Health, and see
whether they have one-week memberships!
We went to a new restaurant yesterday. I didn't think
to have Dave drop me off as we passed the door, so it
took a long time to hobble across the parking lot.
Place was fearfully crowded; there was only one table
left when we arrived, and there were people waiting on
the other side of the row of golf bags (!?) the whole
time we were eating. Their family room is just as noisy
as Smitty's -- something about the construction of the
era? The two buildings appear to be about the same age,
at least both have ladies' entrances. Beff's lacked a
porch to extend the bar into, so eating in the bar isn't
a serious option -- unless you're dining with Gladstone
Gander.
The pizza was different from Smitty's, just as good,
and cheaper -- and the salad was better -- but I don't
think we can get past the noise, especially considering
that the one remaining table was right by the entrance
and somewhat removed from the rest of the room, so that
we could expect it to be worse next time.
One good thing about being pinned in place: I'm about
to start December, so I should be able to mail the index
tomorrow. Crochet World is the only remaining contract
for indexes. Since they've stopped selling back issues,
I may lose this gig too.
According to the Pattern of the Month contest rules,
Susan is taking disks other than mine now -- in Word 5.1a
format.
No wonder she has been having so much trouble with
simple operations. I got a few issues of the Bikeabout
out with Word, and still shriek whenever the subject
comes up. I can't imagine editing a professional
magazine with that interference machine.
The poor little kittens were getting all excited every
time I moved. I finally realized that according to their
stomachs, it was 6:00.
There's a Web page somewhere for people who want to
erase Daylight Squandering Time. Wish I'd writ down the
URL.
26 October 1998
We are having a wooden box made to replace our rotten
steps, and in the meantime, are using a couple of
concrete blocks to get in and out of the house. The
fellow who is building our teeny-tiny deck said that
eight inches was too high for a step. I didn't believe
him then, but I do now!
I've been out to the mailbox twice since falling. On
the way back this morning, I decided that I'm better off
shuffling along without the help of the cane -- until I
get to the steps! We could use a handle beside the door
like the one Darryl put up for Mother.
But I don't think our modern plastic door frame would
hold one.
I went out to mail the hardcopy and disk of the 1998
Crochet World index, so that's done for another year.
May be done, punkt.
Jim turned up when Dave was leaving after lunch, and
installed our deck. Eight inches isn't too high at all
when you've got a big, firm place to stand.
Puffed up with my ability to get the mail, I went out
in the morning to buy milk. Forgot that the Indian
Ladder parking lot is gravel. Much more uneven than it
looks, too. Then when I'd hobbled up to the building, I
found that they'd left me the spot next to the door, had
I had the sense to loop through the lot before parking.
(It was hidden behind a pickup truck.)
Went to SuperValu to buy supper -- turkey and dressing
-- and got on pretty well on the pavement. Helped that I
found an abandoned cart to walk in with.
I've hung the cane back on its peg in the entry, since
I don't need it at home now.
"Anything worth doing well is worth doing poorly at
first."
A knitlister quoted this with no attribution beyond
"Saw this on another list". Pity she wasn't more
specific; whoever made that up deserves credit.
28 October 1998
Our lawn is a lot lumpier than I thought it was, too.
Still haven't reset the cats to standard time.
I have the waistbands basted to the linen pants -- and
that's about all I did today. Lost track of how many
times I had to rip out gathering threads and start over.
And the front picked up a black grease spot somewhere.
I've been so lazy that I've read all of Tatting and
half of TatChat, lists that I filter into an out-of-sight
folder to be skimmed late on Sunday night. Conversation
turned to John Glen, and the logical conclusion that
weight considerations will make tatting an essential
amusement on interplanetary flights. (I doubt that
TechKnit would have concluded quite so readily that
knitting needles floating about in micro-gee would be too
hazardous to tolerate.)
I did like the image of a proud colonist displaying a
lace tablecloth and saying "My grandfather made this on
the first Mars-Jupiter run."
29 October 1998
Grumble, gripe, snarl, snap. It was raining when I
fetched the mail yesterday. Betwixt carrying the
umbrella and walking without a cane, I didn't look at it
until I got back into the house -- and it was the
Abbott's mail. Forgot to ask Dave to take it back out
this morning, so I had to make an extra hobble, and my
ankle is getting sore from not bending my foot.
Left it in our box for the mailman to deal with. I
usually leave it in the Abbott's box, but 25% farther is
much too far right now. I could use a pedal-powered
wheelchair.
Foot is much better, except that the top is blue all
over -- except where it's sore. The original blue spot
is gone. That shade of blue would probably soak out in
hot water; must remember to take a heating pad with me at
nap time.
Didn't help.
When I finally went out to bring in the mail, Dave's
copy of The Best of Robert Service: Illustrated
Edition was in the box. Preface says it's Songs
of a Sourdough and Ballads of a Cheechako
shuffled together and put into logical order.
Dave spent the evening reading aloud.
I haven't seen Smoke lately, and Ink looks sick.
Booker, knock wood, is doing fine.
30 October 1998
Got a postcard from Nancy Hansen yesterday, which said
"Thank you for reading Creeper."
An enigmatic remark, for anyone not aware that we are
both members of SF&F Workshop.
Closing on Danny's house is today. So I guess I ask
George for permission to steal the pine needles. Not
until we hear back from the guy waiting for a part for
the riding mower, though, since I can't use the walk-
behind. Well, I could, but I'm afraid of aggravating the
injury. Grass doesn't grow so fast this time of year
that it can't wait a week or two.
Ink is sunning in front of our garage. I don't know
whether Danny is taking him or he goes with the house.
As I pulled back the curtain, I realized that undyed
silk noil is a great deal like Osnaburg. I wonder how
Dave would feel about a silk nightshirt? At $5/yd, it
wouldn't be extravagant.
31 October 1998
Forgot to take my cane when we went to Smitty's for
pizza tonight, and didn't miss it until I looked around
for my things when we were leaving.
The Clapps are moving in & Danny has moved into a
trailer behind the barn. He says that Booker hates
living in a trailer, but Smoke is too sick to care.
Probably likes having a confined space to hobble around
in.
Danny hadn't seen Ink today, but Dave said he saw him
sunning in his spot on the blacktop close to our white
garage door, where he gets a double dose of the morning
sun.
Danny said that George doesn't like cats. Rather
awkward, with Booker trying to move back in.
Frieda, Dave says, ran up and down the stairs a few
dozen times last night. I'm wondering what the kitties
will do for exercise in a one-story house. Fred never
gets any exercise except trotting down two flights to get
from the bed to the sandbox. If he needed to hunt, he
would lie down and wait patiently until something got
careless.
1 November 1998
I greatly fear that I'm still going to have a sore
foot on Wednesday.
When we are going to be gone from 7:45 in the morning
until 10:00 at night, I'm going to want a pillow and
blanket somewhere along the way. No hope for the pillow,
but before I made pants out of the infamous fuzzy wool, I
tore a square off the end of the fabric intending to make
a poncho.
So today I made the poncho. Dave came in & saw lines
and circles chalked on a fuzzy black tablecloth & asked
what was going on. I said I was making a poncho & he
said, "For the Phantom of the Opera!"
It does look rather operatic.
I was tempted to take out the basting threads to see
the full effect. I used polywool bias tape around the
neck, so I want to give the creases a few hours to set.
Since it's my first trip to the theater, I'd like to
dress up a bit, but I've nothing dressy I want to spend
twelve hours in, six of them on a bus.
Perhaps a black T-shirt and pearls?
I was thinking about how all my pants got baggy when I
gained weight (???), & dug into the off-season closet for
the jumper that I outgrew while I was knitting it. It
fits beautifully! But for some reason, I stopped
knitting just above the knee; I had thought it came to
just below the knee.
As a less cheerful note, one of my hand-knit socks is
missing. I wasn't alarmed at first, because the day I
fell off the cellar steps, I took one sock off downstairs
and one upstairs & figured that the lone sock was one of
those. But I've gone through all the baskets several
times and it hasn't turned up yet.
2 November 1998
I still haven't found the blender. Could I have put
it into the attic? If so, I won't see it until we move;
I can no longer get into the attic, but just put things
within arm's reach of the door.
Snitched from some mailing list or the other (no
attribution):
Senility Prayer
God grand me the senility to forget the folks I never
really liked
The good fortune to bump into the ones I did
And the eyesight to know the difference.
Must be bedtime. Frieda has announced that if I won't
let her play with her mouse, she won't let me play with
my computer.
5 November 1998
Windows light up the house in odd ways. I sat down,
drew the curtain, then wondered how the morning
sun could glare on the screen.
It's reflected off the window of the entry.
I wouldn't have been so gung-ho for the trip, had I
known that busses are equipped with television now.
Wasn't bad on the way out: I wasn't tired yet, there
were things to look at out the window, and the stand-up
comedian on the tape being shown was, in fact, funny. On
the way back, when all I wanted in the whole world was to
be allowed to close my eyes and think my own thoughts,
all that could be seen in the windows was the reflections
of the screens, and the show was some sort of sit-com
where one was supposed to laugh at an ad executive
getting into improbable situations and reacting badly.
I put in my ear plugs before the "show" started, of
course, but E.A.R.s are designed to attenuate loud noises
without doing a thing to spare you from annoying noises.
I might add that the action took place over several
years, but the baby didn't age a single week.
The movie was a stark contrast to The Phantom of the
Opera, which was a lavish production. The costumes alone
were unbelievable; I wanted to sneak backstage and help
the wardrobe mistress put them away, to find out how all
that glitter was made machine washable. I got a clue in
that one dress included a panel of a gold-printed fabric;
I recall seeing such cloth in Beyond the Tollgate &
opining that it wouldn't wash, whereupon the proprietor
informed me that printing inks have improved a bit since
I made my blue-and-silver muumuu.
Recently an assistant wardrobe mistress on
Rec.Crafts.Textiles.Sewing remarked that the hardest part
of learning to sew theater style was being forbidden to
finish seams; you can't afford to waste time on anything
that doesn't show, and costumes aren't going to be worn
very many times.
Phantom has been playing for eleven years, we were
informed frequently -- another reason for wanting to
sneak backstage was a suspicion that their seams
are flat felled.
There was only a vague family resemblance to the
silent movie "Phantom of the Opera." Which I could tell
despite not being able to understand most of the lyrics;
it's amazing how much you can follow from the emotions
alone.
What with the explosions and backstage scenes and
being a play about putting on plays, it reminded me of
The Muppet Show.
Before the show, Dave and I walked to Grand Central
Terminal (historical signs firmly inform you that it is
not and never was a mere "station"), toured the library,
and had lunch in a deli. Afterward, we ordered
shepherd's pie (Dave) and spinach salad (me) at The
Playwright Tavern -- good food with cloth napkins and
attentive service, and no more expensive than an evening
at Smitty's. Remarkable, judging by the snare-the-
tourist prices posted most places. Sardi's did not have
menus on the door, which, we had been told, was a sign
that those who care how much they spend need not enter.
Then we walked around various blocks until it was time
to catch the bus. We arrived at the appointed spot just
as the bus pulled in, and the other people were all there
promptly, so we hit the Lincoln Tunnel before the after-
theater crunch. There was delay getting in, and bumper-
to-bumper busses inside, so I hate to think what it would
have been like later. We got back to the Ramada half an
hour sooner than was promised.
Somewhat to my surprise, I got on very well with my
sore foot. I got a twinge once or twice from putting my
foot wrong on an uneven surface, I had to run to maintain
a walking pace, and after I got tired, I had to go down
narrow-treaded flights of stairs backward, but that was
all.
I think I chose right when I wore my tightest shoes
with my thickest socks. When I got sore from walking, it
wasn't in the foot, but at the back of the calf. The
injury burns a bit this morning, but only when I pay
close attention to it.
My cloak was a great success. It was more useful and
less trouble than a coat would have been.
6 November 1998
Dave didn't have lunch at home today, but he came home
to pick up a bank slip and help me catch the cats. They
yelled all the way to the vet's and complained
intermittently on the way back. When we finally got
home, they sauntered casually out of their cages; I went
to bed.
Dave had shepherd's pie at Christine's yesterday; he
says that it's better than the Playwright's.