First thing I saw after opening this file was a reminder to wind Grandmother Bailey's watch. It must be wound at least once a month or the gears will gum up, and the fellow who cleaned it the last time they gummed up is dead.
I'd like to give up this responsibility. If you take the watch, you also get the brooch Grandmother used to wear it on, the gold-filled chain Dave bought so I could wear it as a necklace, and the hand-made wooden box I keep them in.
I set out the poinsettia today, directly in the flower bed because I don't intend to take it in next fall. I think it will spark up the south end of the fern bed.
Denise saw me sitting on the porch sewing, and came over to visit for a while.
I bought a bed today, and bought exactly what I didn't want: A mattress much thicker than a mattress and a box spring put together ought to be, and a box spring too. There are no other options.
It will be delivered Monday afternoon.
I have a feeling that I'll be going into the sewing room to put my shoes on starting Tuesday.
I was looking forward to going to Lowery to buy smaller sheets after we bought a queen-size bed, but we may well need *bigger* sheets.
In thematically related news, today Dave decided not to send the unsatisfactory blood-pressure meter back, because all the other meters are exactly the same.
I stopped at all three Mexican groceries on the way back from Reinholt. I bought a jicama, a bottle of yogurt drink, and a head of lettuce.
And a candy bar because I was overdue for lunch.
After supper, I sliced all the asparagus stems diagonally as thin as I could, fried them in butter, and put them into the freezer in three sandwich bags. I *think* there is enough butter in each bag to make a cup of cream sauce.
Then I went to the garden and picked three long fat asparagus spears. There's at least one more to pick soon, and some hills that I'm allowing to grow.
I took my Fosamax this morning, then looked into the bathroom mirror and thought about shaving my face, putting on another coat of sunscreen, and searching my closet for a short-sleeved dress that doesn't have a scoop neck that's incompatible with my store-bought bras, and just couldn't face it. I'm skipping church today.
I'd been having gas pains ever since I woke up, but that seems to have stopped when I ate. (I eat half an hour after taking Fosamax, after which I'm allowed to bend over.)
I still feel very tired. Perhaps I overdid yesterday. Certainly it was too soon to walk from the Trailhouse home; Did fine while walking, but I woke from my nap with sore muscles. When the mechanic asked whether I could walk that far, I told him I did it every Sunday — but didn't mention that I haven't walked to church *lately*.
It's aggravating that just when I got over the sciatica, my bike came down with a broken spoke, and it won't be my turn on the repair stand until next week.
I was planning to stay home Monday anyway, to wash the bedding before the new bed is delivered.
Now that I'm allowed to lie down, I think maybe I will.
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And I did, and then took another nap at the usual time. Now it's almost midnight and I can't sleep.
But whatever I had, I think I'm over it.
Had borderline intestinal upset all day. It's good that I didn't have my clothes laid out; if I'd been able to dress without thinking or making decisions, I probably would have, and spread my germs all over the church.
Much better. I got up at six or seven, and washed the dishes as quietly as I could.
Now Dave is up and two of the sheets are in the washer. There are three, because I hadn't washed the sheet from flipping the mattress yet.
I'd like to wash the fleece bedspread, but it completely fills the dryer, and I don't think it would have time to line dry after I've washed the other stuff.
Meanwhile, back at Saturday's ride, my plan was to go to the ice-rink market, the fairgrounds market, Reinholt to pick up a water bottle I'd mislaid on Friday, the courthouse market, Rotary Park to re- fill the water bottle at the power washer they are passing off as a bottle filler, and then wander about.
It was warm enough that getting sprayed each time the stream touched the edge of the bottle would be more of a feature than a bug.
I noticed a faint squeak in the back wheel right off, and stopped to look for it — attracting offers of help from two cyclists and a pedestrian — but could find nothing, and it didn't happen when I spun the wheel. I bought a mango lassi (yogurt smoothie) at the ice rink market, returned home, put it into the fridge, and went to the fairgrounds market, where I bought some kale.
Insert pauses to inspect back wheel all through this account.
By the time I got to Reinholt, the squeak had become a definite rub somewhere, and I thought my hub must be dying, since there was plenty of clearance around the brake blocks and fender stays, whether I spun the wheel or watched them while pushing the bike. (Reinholt gave me a peanut-butter cookie with my water bottle.)
I wheeled the bike through the courthouse market (nothing I wanted) and hit Main Street headed for Kroger, where I intended to buy milk and raisin bran, and make another attempt to buy Toaster Scrambles.
Main Street passes the library, so I stopped there to take care of my other reason for hurrying away from the market (it being Saturday, the courthouse was closed). There was a Friends of the Library book sale going on. One of the clerks knew I wanted funny books and led me to the graphic novels; I reflected on how much nicer that was than all the other places that have learned to recognize me of late.
I bought two Campfire Classics, which appear to be modern imitations of Classics Illustrated. I don't like the slick paper they are printed on; it highlights the self-conscious bland artsiness of the drawings. I opened The Three Musketeers at random and saw one of the musketeers saying "Maam, are you okay?", so I'm quite certain the dialog will be tin-eared.
The fifty cents I paid was about what they are worth.
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Oops, I forgot that there was a blanket under my weekly wash in the last load, and set it for "normal" instead of "bulky/sheets". Not that I have a clue as to what the difference is.
I did finally figure out how the water level "auto sensing" works. It can't be by weight, because wet clothes would get more water than dry clothes, and I couldn't think of any other way to detect how much clothing is in the tub.
The algorithm is very simple: "run in enough water for half a load."
All the other wash is off the line and put away.
The guys who delivered the bed told us that we could have a "low profile" box spring that will make the bed four inches lower, and they'll be here any minute to make the switch. (Dave just said "here they come".)
Wow! They re-made the bed!
I gave them another tip.
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Partly because they'd said that the job would be done tomorrow, but later they called and said they would be back in less time than I'd spent making the bed.
In other recent news, Dave came home from the heart doctor saying that the heart doctor had been planning to take him off Plavic permanently about the time the surgeon wanted him to lay off, so that all works out. The doctor also said that his overdose of blood-pressure medication won't hurt him a bit. The story that the latter news is the punch line to is part of the Saturday recap:
I left off narrating at the library. By then the bike had gotten so bad that after crossing Detroit I decided to go to the Trailhouse the shortest way I could manage. (Dave bought milk when he gassed up the car today, but Family Express doesn't sell dry cereal.)
I parked in front of the Trailhouse and a woman coming out told me I was an inspiration to her and she was planning to become an eighty-year-old cyclist too. She'd been discussing panniers with them and said she was considering wicker; I told her that I preferred wire because one can hook bungees to it. I should have first inquired as to what she wanted the panniers *for*. Note: when you ask me for advice, give me lots of time to think it over.
Reminds me of the time Judy asked me how much spaghetti I cooked and I said two or three ounces per person. It was far too late when I realized that she was planning to serve it as a side dish.
The mechanic noticed the broken spoke the instant he had the bicycle hung up where he could see it.
This made me feel very stupid. All those wheel inspections and I hadn't once thought of inspecting the spokes. You'd think I'd have found the break by accident when spinning the wheel by pushing on the spokes!
But it didn't make me feel stupid enough to commiserate properly with Dave when he told me he'd found out why he'd been feeling lousy for weeks: while I was gone, he organized his pills and discovered that he had been taking a double dose of one of his medications every evening. Worse, he'd also been taking the proper dose in the morning.
The cardiologist thinks it conceivable that he doesn't need the medication at all. But no lasting damage was done.
The spoke couldn't be replaced on the spot, so the mechanic (If I'm going to hang around the Trailhouse so often, I should learn these guys names! But I was twelve or thirteen before I was sure of my own name.)
The mechanic carried my bike upstairs and pointed out a niche where I could stash my stuff while I walked home and came back for it on the flatfoot.
There are advantages to having two bicycles. I wondered how I could carry the contents of two panniers on the flatfoot, and put a lot of bungees in the basket, but it turned out that my Kroger-bag cooler fits into the basket nicely — I put it in ice-end first, so I didn't even endanger the kale — and the books, folder of papers, etc. could be squished around it.
Another advantage of newspaper insulation over plastic foam: it was willing to change shape.
I noticed yesterday that the light was kind dim. Today the white sky is all over the news.
I've eaten most of the kale. I make a lunch dish rather like wilted lettuce, but I put the lid on and steam it for a while.
No word from the Trailhouse; I'm beginning to think I missed a call.
Yesterday's sewing was adding a snap to a walker bag, today I've made visible progress on my new jersey.
8:34 AM 6/9/2023 — I slept like a rock last night, and took my two o'clock pill at seven forty-eight. The night before, I hardly slept at all, and got up twice out of boredom.
I wish I knew what the variable was.
Noon:
Dave says he smells smoke and his eyes sting. Yesterday he noticed nothing at all.
Our old air filter doesn't work, and I suspect that Menard's is sold out, but we remembered the furnace filters and turned on the fan.
I spent the entire morning deciding where to make a row of stitches. Actually sewing the seam is going to be an anticlimax.
Did neaten up the card tables a bit.
Kathy and Dave dropped in Friday evening to tell us that Lois had stopped breathing. She was talking with a visitor at the time, and went without fuss or pain.
On Saturday afternoon, they came back to tell us that the funeral will be on Thursday.
This afternoon, Sherry dropped in for a nice long visit.
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I walked to church this morning. Walked back pretty fast because speckles were appearing on the walkways, but the rain didn't start until after I'd begun my nap.
We brought in the cushions of the porch chairs that didn't get wet, and forgot the one on the other side of the house.
My sciatica episode is completely over, but Dave is very tired — and he has to go for another infusion tomorrow. At least this will be the last one.
I really, really need some new old clothes. Can't just buy some, because shirts must have timer pockets and pants must have knife and cell-phone pockets. I have a pair of cotton tights on my to-sew pile, but none of my pre-made pockets are suitable.
We woke this morning to exactly the sort of drizzling rain we have been needing. But it didn't last long enough. [It came back later.]
Tomorrow should be good weather to ride to my annual exam, then return my books at the library.
I've already laid out my clothes. I wish I could wear my new jersey, which is still in more than a dozen pieces.
Dave doesn't appear to be too knocked out from the infusion. This morning he got out of bed without using the chair, untied it from the bed frame, and put it back into the garage.
Then he brought the chair back in, because we need a place to sit while putting on our shoes. But now it's over by the window.
This morning, he came back from an appointment saying "that was instructive". I thought he'd learned something from the doctor, but he said that he zoomed out without putting his walker into the car, and got along fine with the cane.
He also said that the roundabout looks as though all they are doing is waiting for the asphalt on Argonne Road to cure.
There is a large Bobcat sitting on the huge pile of dirt in the middle.
I complain that the huge pile of dirt prevents me from seeing whether it's my turn to enter; he says that the obstruction is a safety feature because people who can't see move slowly.
Tell that to the trash collector who was crushed by a blinded-by-the-sun driver who couldn't think of any reason to proceed with caution.
I didn't notice the Bobcat on my way to the farmers markets, but I have little attention to spare when going round the roundabout.
I'm ready for church twenty minutes before time to leave. Hope I don't get distracted and arrive late again.
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Arrived early, didn't know how to behave.
I intended to walk home by way of the teller machine, being down to forty-five dollars, but was too hungry to take the extra time. There was a bison-burger truck parked in front of Ice Cream Social, and I was tempted, but it would have been stone cold by the time I got home.
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There are two boxes of file copies of the Banner in the closet, one labeled 1977 - 1986, the other labeled 1987 - 1995. There is also a notebook labeled 1999 - 2005. 2006 - 2013 were lost to computer upgrades. I've no idea what happened to 1996 - 1998.
I do know what happened to 1963 - 1986. If three moves equal one fire, we've had at least three fires. There was one literal fire, the time we kept the apartment over the summer, but there was only smoke damage to the stuff we left in our locker.
If you noticed that I wasn't a Beeson until 1964: there were a few issues of the Loveless Weakly Newslitter.
Does anybody want to take these archives off my hands?
I completely forgot that Dave's surgery was today until yesterday evening when discussing it with Kathy and Dave. But it doesn't take me long to pack a go bag and lay out my clothes.
We leave in about six minutes.
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Well, that was a water haul. He had three wristbands on and an IV in the other arm when the anesthesiologist came in and said that his platelets were too low to do a spinal and he'd have to have a general, then the surgeon came in and said there was no way he was going to cut into someone with such low platelets.
So the nurse unplugged him and he put his clothes back on and we came home.
Now he's cooking breakfast. I think I'll have an early lunch.
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The paper-recycling bin was fuller than it has ever been because I didn't want to make another mess in the parlor until I'd taken out the card tables of jersey parts.
I got it all sorted in one sitting — it has always taken me *days*.
I think it's because I've been pre-flattening the cardboard by sliding it under the bin, which resulted in it being in clumps instead of scattered all through. But flat boxes also make a given depth of paper many more pieces.
The cardboard is an untidy pile which will need to be re-sorted. But it's only one pile, because most of the folded boxes are already flat.
By the time I get to re-sorting the cardboard, the newspapers, letter-size items, and odd bits patted into the approximate shape of a tabloid should be squished enough to tie into bundles.
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The low hemoglobin count reminded me that I had a pound of chicken liver in the freezer. I thawed it in cold water, coated it with salted & peppered whole-grain white-wheat flour, and fried it in a stick of butter. Had less than a tablespoon of butter to drain out of the fry pan when cleaning up.
A pound of liver is a >LOT< of liver. There wasn't any flour left in the box I shook the liver in. There were a lot of bits of dough, which I scraped into the sizzling butter. They were yummy.
As was — and still is — the liver. But this isn't the sort of dish one can serve twice in one month.
For lunch today, Dave ate the last of the potato soup that Kathy and Dave gave us, with clams in it. That soup was all we had for supper the Wednesday before last, and we've both been nibbling at it — it didn't look like enough to last this long.
Dave returned to Work Out Any Time today, and thinks it did him some good. When I asked what he wanted for supper tonight, he said "hamburgers" instead of "not much".
I dashed to Kroger this afternoon, to buy milk and real Coke — and a last-minute request for hamburger. Also three apples from the produce clearance. [A few dayslater, I discovered that they were green tomatoes.] It took me ten minutes out and fourteen minutes back. I think the extra time was entirely coasting *down* McKinley more slowly than I climbed *up*.
Going up, I was trying to keep ahead of the car behind me, which couldn't pass because of the queue waiting to turn left into the roundabout. Coming down, I used the sidewalk so as to bypass the queue and cross as a pedestrian. There is a nice big driveway to remount in at the end of the crosswalk, but I remounted in the Heritage Trail because of the rush-hour traffic in the roundabout.
The roundabout looks nearly ready to open. They were painting squiggles on it when Dave came back from W.O.A.T. When I went through more slowly, I could see that they were sketches of the road. I think that this sort of mark was called a "tulip" when it marked the route of a bike tour, from having been invented for a tulip festival. Even if I recall correctly, they are long obsolete, since Dan Henry marks work better, and "route arrows" — rolls of tape pre-cut into dovetails — are easier than hand-painted Dan Henrys.
I no longer remember the meaning of the notes I jotted when I had no time to write, so here they are raw and unedited:
3:36 PM 6/14/2023 — when I went up McKinley, there were cones across both ends. When I came back the cones at the upper end were still there, but the cones at the lower end were gone.
8:17 AM 6/15/2023 — blood count unremarkable
8:17 AM 6/15/2023 — shirt was selected by Evelyn
3:00 PM 6/15/2023 — I logged out of Facebook!
6:45 PM 6/15/2023 — From today's front page: "A local family is seeking to set a Guinness World Record for the longest chain of floating inflatables on Winona Lake in Northern Indiana and raise awareness of ALS." It's a pity I no longer have time to read alt.usage.english. I'd like to write a post with the subject line "can this sentence be saved?".
Roundabout working, but still no access to Argonne. Since I was in the car, I had little attention to spare for judging progress. And even less on the way back; there was a construction truck parked in the lane I had to use. The lane was wide enough for both of us, but just barely.
I broke off writing to try to enter my Aldi receipt into Quicken, but it updated and now Dave has to attend to it before I can use it. I hope they haven't scrambled the categories again; I haven't even started to unscramble the dog's breakfast the previous update made of the categories.
I don't know how long it's been since I crossed 30 to go to Aldi, but I spent $222.20. I've only ninety-four dollars in cash, and I'm always a bit nervous when I present my debit card for more money than I have on me. I did have it fail once, when I stopped at Kroger on the way home from paying a couple of thousand to the dentist.
I remembered that I won't be to Aldi again before the Fourth of July party and bought a couple of extra bags of chips, but I couldn't find the aged white cheddar to make cheese dip.
There were several Amish ladies at Aldi, all well dressed enough to make "Oh, wow, who made your dress?" a reasonable greeting, but I couldn't work up the nerve to accost one.
I guess I just have to resign myself to running around in pajamas.
Both of the prescriptions I picked up for Dave on the way home were mistakes — by two different doctors. I went out Zale's back door and followed Main to Bronson — you don't have to stand in line to turn onto Winona at Bronson, and the cross traffic is stopped for you.
The prescription I picked up on the way to the third farmer's market was correct.
The roundabout appears to be in full operation, though there was a fellow in a yellow vest doing something or the other. I took the Heritage Trail out because I didn't know what to expect, but used the roundabout coming home.
I didn't buy anything at the ice-rink market. Might have bought some cheese, but that booth was mobbed and I couldn't see whether I wanted what they had. I bought kohlrabi at the fairgrounds market, and had the leaves for lunch when I got back. Last week I forgot my radishes on the bike and the leaves were rotten when I remembered them. The roots are in good shape, despite having spent a few days in the heat with leaves attached.
Zale's was next, then the courthouse market. I bought maple syrup and a half dozen peanut-butter cookies. Then to Rotary Park to refill my bottles. For some reason, I wrote "Kiwanis Park" on my notes, and like to never found it on the map when I wanted to measure my miles. Only about eight.
At a garage sale that I passed on the way to Rotary Park, I found a joint box that might do for a notebook case when the one I'm using gives out. There was a picture of Cheech and Chong on it, but I pried it off.
I was hungry when I stopped at Mi Poblanita for an onion yesterday, so I also bought a rollo de guayaba, thinking it was guava paste. It's a good thing I decided that the package was too fussy to open and anyway I was almost home. This morning I discovered that it is granulated sugar stuck together with guava. I do take a nibble every time I pass the table.
The topic of today's sermon was "praise the Lord". I chickened out of going to the lake to witness the baptism ceremony, and by the time I walked past the park, I'd forgotten about it and didn't look to see whether they were still at the beach.
I climbed four staircases after church, but only one way on two of them, and I didn't do any of it slowly.
4:25 p.m. — I just deleted "Greens & Spices" from shoppinglists.txt. Yesterday, the door was unlocked, but the store was empty: no merchandise, and no shelves. Not too surprising; I don't recall ever having to share when I shopped there.
I think they missed a bet by not having a sign pointing to them during the courthouse market.
Another thing I learned yesterday is that there are two public-restroom doors opening into the city-hall parking lot, on the back corner of the gray retail-space building adjacent to the lot.
I don't know whether they are available when it's not market day, but the vacant/in use locks seem to be all the locks they have. But I didn't look closely at the door knobs.
The thunderstorm that was headed for us split and went north and south. We still got a lot of rain today, and I've scratched "water garden" off my list of things to do.
Yesterday Dave learned that he can set Alexa to nag him until he takes his morning pills. This morning he learned that one must save after setting.
I spent most of the day sewing a collar on my new jersey.
Facebook says that Jean Loveless sent me a message, but won't let me read it. If one of you Lecklitners knows her, send her my e-mail address.
Kathy came by while I was sitting on the porch ripping off a mis-stitched sleeve, and we had a nice visit.
While I was showing her the pockets in the jersey, I found a pair of magnifiers that had been missing for days. I now remember dropping my glasses into a pocket to free up a hand for carrying other tools back into the house. I've been wooling that yoke around every which way, and I sewed a collar and a back and a sleeve onto it; it's a wonder the glasses didn't make themselves known sooner.
Maybe I should check my other pockets for the light bulb Dave is looking for.
A packet of powdered blueberries Dave ordered came today. I intend to stir some into plain yogurt.
Dave had some powder on his cereal this morning, and could detect no blueberry flavor. I took a sample on the tip of a teaspoon, and detected nothing but a general sense of having powder on my tongue.
How do health-food makers *do* that? The package claims that there is nothing in it but blueberries, but it's obvious that they took something out.
Including color. The powder is pale pink.
I stirred a heaping teaspoon of it into a cup of yogurt, and it turned it a nice color — but not as deep a color as the same amount of fresh blueberries would have. Perhaps something will develop when it's had time to dissolve.
I put half a tablespoon of blueberry powder in a mess of steel-cut oats this morning, and could not detect it in any way.
The package says to take a quarter of a teaspoon a day.
The yogurt dip is made and in the fridge, and there's a jacket of ice in the freezer. I poured a cup of water into a half-gallon semi-disposable container, put another container into it, and froze it. After I blast the inside of the inside container with the air compressor, it will pop right out and I can replace it with the container of dip.
At least it worked that way last year.
Dave bought a new switch for the bedroom, but when he took the old switch off, there was an alarming spaghetti bowl of wires under it. He was already planning to have an electrician install a new porch light, so we will have him do the switch too — the electrician will have the right tools to tell which wire is which. In the meanwhile, the lamps in the bedroom are running on an extension cord from the sewing room — we don't dare turn the breaker back on.
Tomorrow's thunderstorms are to be scattered, so there's a good chance my farmer's market tour is still on.
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