---L--P
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.