I thought we already celebrated the Fourth of July with fireworks in my small town, but I heard and saw more tonight, so I don't know what that's all about. Well, I guess you can't celebrate Independence Day too many times. Maybe this is a private celebration, but I'm seeing these fireworks in the same place as the others. Anyway, they are pretty, and I love being able to watch them from my study window.
I worked my part-time part-time job today for four-and-a-half hours--that was all I could stand. The air conditioning wasn't working in the receiving room, so Hunter (the receiving manager) and I spent our time sweating--he unpacked boxes and I packed them. I was so hot my shirt and pants were damp--I mean DAMP. I planned to work longer, but I can sweat at my own house, and I can get some gardening done while I do it. So I came home.
And, hooray, I received season 3 of The Closer and Pirates of the Caribbean--At World's End. So I had an excuse to stay inside and not sweat. But that means I need to get up early tomorrow morning and mow the front yard, which I didn't do this afternoon. Oh, well. I'll do it sooner or later. And I'm waiting for a cordless string trimmer so I can tackle the front ditch and the back corner where I can't reach with the mower. I ordered it Friday and it should be here any day. I love the Internet. I can get what I need without leaving home.
I'm finding that I don't much like leaving home these days. I realize I have to leave once in a while. Otherwise, I'll become the crazy cat lady who talks to her plants. But I also realize that I can get so much done here when I'm not distracted by trips to "the big city." And I've discovered that going out involves planning. I make extensive lists, map travel routes, and calculate gas use--I plan every stop so that I don't have to double back. I've become almost obsessive about it. I think that's good, though. I only go to town when I need to, so I'm not using up as much gas as often.
If I don't have to go to town for myself, my mom will always have a reason for me to go. This weekend, we have a baby shower, and my brother is going to finish what he started last week--putting a new hard drive in my laptop. By then, I should have the rest of the memory for it. I think I'll have a brand new laptop for less than half the cost of a new one.
I sometimes think I lead a boring life. When I write it out, though, it seems more interesting--to me, anyway!
Monday, June 30, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Another Post
I've posted once today, but Nissa suggested that I make a list of "recommended reading."
When and if I teach literature, I usually teach Intro to Fiction or the second freshman comp course that covers fiction, poetry, and drama. My friends will not be surprised when I say that I love poetry, but despair because so many of my students don't "get it." Poetry, for me, is about the human heart in all it's fragility and beauty. It's more feeling; I think of fiction and drama as more cerebral, which may not be entirely true, but that's how I feel about it.
If I listed all of the poets and poems I love (and I mean that), this blog site would kick me off for exceeding my alloted space. So, here are a smattering, in no particular order of preference:
Mary Oliver--she's one of my favorite modern nature poets, but she also touches on her own hard life growing up. Those poems sneak up on you and smack you upside the head. Her nature poetry takes my breath away.
Margaret Atwood--also one of my favorite fiction and nonfiction writers. My favorite poem is "This is a Picture of Me." It's been a jumping off point for many poetry exercises.
Emily Dickinson--I don't think I need to explain this choice. I've been reading her for years, and she never ceases to surprise and confound me.
As odd as this sounds, war poets--Randall Jarrell ("The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner"), Howard Nemerov ("The War in the Air") , Henry Reed ("The Naming of Parts"), Stephen Crane ("War is Kind")--because they don't glorify war. For them, war is bloody, senseless, and deadly.
Well, just begin with Sappho and work your way forward. The Imagists (William Carlos Williams, Wallace Stevens, H.D., Archibald MacLeish ("Ars Poetica")) are some of my favorites, but I also like the Romantics and the Victorians, and Shakespeare's sonnets.
I just scanned my bookshelves and was reminded of the poets I envy--Gerard Manley Hopkins for his language ("The Windhover: To Christ Our Lord"), and Elizabeth Bishop for her specificity (read "One Art," a wonderful sestina).
These are, by no means, all. Just some to start with.
For fiction, again, too many to list.
For short stories and novels, I like the quirky and surprising. In my Intro to Fiction class, I go for the startling endings--"The Lottery," Shirley Jackson; "The Story of an Hour," Kate Chopin; and I like angel/devil stories: "The Demon Lover," Elizabeth Bowen; "Gimpel the Fool," Issac Bashevis Singer; "The Man in the Black Suit," Stephen King' ; "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings," Gabriel Garcia Marquez; "Young Goodman Brown," Nathaniel Hawthorne.
For depth, I like "The Death of Ivan Illych," by Leo Tolstoy; "The Metamorphosis," Franz Kafka; and "Heart of Darkness," by Joseph Conrad.
And you can't go wrong with anything by T. C. Boyle. Some of his stories are apocalyptic and weird, while some are painfully real ("The Love of My Life").
Again, I have more, but that's a start.
With novels, again, too many to list. I've read a few in the last couple of years that are good--Atonement, by Ian McEwan; The Road, by Cormac McCarthy; Life of Pi, by Yann Martel; Year of Wonders, by Geraldine Brooks. But I also love the African novels of Alexander McCall Smith.
Take a look at Modern Books' list (just Google it). I can't agree with Ulysses by James Joyce. I've never been able to get through it, and I don't particularly care for Ayn Rand. I like apocalyptic fiction--1984, Animal Farm, The Sparrow and Fahrenheit 451 (the last two are classified as "science fiction"). Love The Lord of the Rings trilogy, all the Harry Potter books, and The Mists of Avalon.
I had to come back in here (it's Sunday) and add the original "chick lit" (hate the modern stuff) by Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters. Add Daphne DuMaurier's Rebecca to that.
For drama, anything by Shakespeare. I particularly love "Othello" and "King Lear." I'm drawn more to his dramas and history plays. I like the comedies, but the tragedies seem to resonate with me.
In more modern drama, I like Susan Glaspell's "Trifles," and any of Wendy Wasserstein's plays. Also, Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman" and "The Crucible." I like "The Glass Menagerie" by Tennessee Williams. But, then, I like the Greeks, too--Sophocles and Euripedes .("Medea"--Wow! She's one angry woman.)
That's the short list. If I went through my bookshelves and boxes, I'd be typing here all night. And, of course, I haven't mentioned nonfiction--Amy Tan's The Opposite of Fate, Margaret Atwood's Negotiating with the Dead, Alexandra Fuller's Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight, and Peter Godwin's When a Crocodile Eats the Sun (about Zimbabwe--a must read for these times).
Again, that's a short-short list of nonfiction, and these are all books I've read recently. Add to that Stephen King's On Writing, and so many other books about writing.
That's enough for now. I've spent about an hour typing all of this, and I promised myself I wouldn't spend the whole night on the computer. Ha!
So, if you have anything to add, leave a comment--agree, disagree, amplify! I'd love to hear what you're reading right now.
When and if I teach literature, I usually teach Intro to Fiction or the second freshman comp course that covers fiction, poetry, and drama. My friends will not be surprised when I say that I love poetry, but despair because so many of my students don't "get it." Poetry, for me, is about the human heart in all it's fragility and beauty. It's more feeling; I think of fiction and drama as more cerebral, which may not be entirely true, but that's how I feel about it.
If I listed all of the poets and poems I love (and I mean that), this blog site would kick me off for exceeding my alloted space. So, here are a smattering, in no particular order of preference:
Mary Oliver--she's one of my favorite modern nature poets, but she also touches on her own hard life growing up. Those poems sneak up on you and smack you upside the head. Her nature poetry takes my breath away.
Margaret Atwood--also one of my favorite fiction and nonfiction writers. My favorite poem is "This is a Picture of Me." It's been a jumping off point for many poetry exercises.
Emily Dickinson--I don't think I need to explain this choice. I've been reading her for years, and she never ceases to surprise and confound me.
As odd as this sounds, war poets--Randall Jarrell ("The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner"), Howard Nemerov ("The War in the Air") , Henry Reed ("The Naming of Parts"), Stephen Crane ("War is Kind")--because they don't glorify war. For them, war is bloody, senseless, and deadly.
Well, just begin with Sappho and work your way forward. The Imagists (William Carlos Williams, Wallace Stevens, H.D., Archibald MacLeish ("Ars Poetica")) are some of my favorites, but I also like the Romantics and the Victorians, and Shakespeare's sonnets.
I just scanned my bookshelves and was reminded of the poets I envy--Gerard Manley Hopkins for his language ("The Windhover: To Christ Our Lord"), and Elizabeth Bishop for her specificity (read "One Art," a wonderful sestina).
These are, by no means, all. Just some to start with.
For fiction, again, too many to list.
For short stories and novels, I like the quirky and surprising. In my Intro to Fiction class, I go for the startling endings--"The Lottery," Shirley Jackson; "The Story of an Hour," Kate Chopin; and I like angel/devil stories: "The Demon Lover," Elizabeth Bowen; "Gimpel the Fool," Issac Bashevis Singer; "The Man in the Black Suit," Stephen King' ; "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings," Gabriel Garcia Marquez; "Young Goodman Brown," Nathaniel Hawthorne.
For depth, I like "The Death of Ivan Illych," by Leo Tolstoy; "The Metamorphosis," Franz Kafka; and "Heart of Darkness," by Joseph Conrad.
And you can't go wrong with anything by T. C. Boyle. Some of his stories are apocalyptic and weird, while some are painfully real ("The Love of My Life").
Again, I have more, but that's a start.
With novels, again, too many to list. I've read a few in the last couple of years that are good--Atonement, by Ian McEwan; The Road, by Cormac McCarthy; Life of Pi, by Yann Martel; Year of Wonders, by Geraldine Brooks. But I also love the African novels of Alexander McCall Smith.
Take a look at Modern Books' list (just Google it). I can't agree with Ulysses by James Joyce. I've never been able to get through it, and I don't particularly care for Ayn Rand. I like apocalyptic fiction--1984, Animal Farm, The Sparrow and Fahrenheit 451 (the last two are classified as "science fiction"). Love The Lord of the Rings trilogy, all the Harry Potter books, and The Mists of Avalon.
I had to come back in here (it's Sunday) and add the original "chick lit" (hate the modern stuff) by Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters. Add Daphne DuMaurier's Rebecca to that.
For drama, anything by Shakespeare. I particularly love "Othello" and "King Lear." I'm drawn more to his dramas and history plays. I like the comedies, but the tragedies seem to resonate with me.
In more modern drama, I like Susan Glaspell's "Trifles," and any of Wendy Wasserstein's plays. Also, Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman" and "The Crucible." I like "The Glass Menagerie" by Tennessee Williams. But, then, I like the Greeks, too--Sophocles and Euripedes .("Medea"--Wow! She's one angry woman.)
That's the short list. If I went through my bookshelves and boxes, I'd be typing here all night. And, of course, I haven't mentioned nonfiction--Amy Tan's The Opposite of Fate, Margaret Atwood's Negotiating with the Dead, Alexandra Fuller's Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight, and Peter Godwin's When a Crocodile Eats the Sun (about Zimbabwe--a must read for these times).
Again, that's a short-short list of nonfiction, and these are all books I've read recently. Add to that Stephen King's On Writing, and so many other books about writing.
That's enough for now. I've spent about an hour typing all of this, and I promised myself I wouldn't spend the whole night on the computer. Ha!
So, if you have anything to add, leave a comment--agree, disagree, amplify! I'd love to hear what you're reading right now.
Pass-along Plants
I had a lovely visit from an "almost" former student today. I say "almost" because she wasn't in my class for long before she dropped it and withdrew from the university to pursue another direction, but she's kept up with me through this blog.
When she came out, she brought me two types of mint--a "regular" mint and a "rough" spearmint. I planted those earlier this afternoon. Thank you, Nissa, for the plants and the visit.
Armed with a trowel, we walked around my yard and dug up some plants she wanted to try in her yard--Purslane (which is an edible succulent), periwinkles (they multiply like crabgrass), and a small juniper-like tree (the birds drop the seeds all over my yard; they spring up like weeds, too). She came out to get some of those spider lily bulbs (I filled up a huge bag for her). We talked about plants and she gave me some good ideas about what to plant for ground cover. We took a look at the plum, peach and mayhaw trees.
And we talked and talked. I so enjoy good conversation and funny people, and I had both today. I don't get many visitors, so I cherish the ones I do get. With gas prices so high, it's difficult to just jump in the car and drive 45 miles (90, round-trip) to chat for an hour or two. I do appreciate it, though, when someone does that.
I love when people bring me plants from their yards. I feel that I have a bit of that person with me all of the time. I look at all of the plants my sister, my mother and my friends have given me and appreciate their contributions to the landscape. And I love to pass on what I have that others want. That's the beauty of gardening--getting to know the plants, learning how to care for them, and sharing them with others. The more plants I get, the more I learn and the more I can share.
When she came out, she brought me two types of mint--a "regular" mint and a "rough" spearmint. I planted those earlier this afternoon. Thank you, Nissa, for the plants and the visit.
Armed with a trowel, we walked around my yard and dug up some plants she wanted to try in her yard--Purslane (which is an edible succulent), periwinkles (they multiply like crabgrass), and a small juniper-like tree (the birds drop the seeds all over my yard; they spring up like weeds, too). She came out to get some of those spider lily bulbs (I filled up a huge bag for her). We talked about plants and she gave me some good ideas about what to plant for ground cover. We took a look at the plum, peach and mayhaw trees.
And we talked and talked. I so enjoy good conversation and funny people, and I had both today. I don't get many visitors, so I cherish the ones I do get. With gas prices so high, it's difficult to just jump in the car and drive 45 miles (90, round-trip) to chat for an hour or two. I do appreciate it, though, when someone does that.
I love when people bring me plants from their yards. I feel that I have a bit of that person with me all of the time. I look at all of the plants my sister, my mother and my friends have given me and appreciate their contributions to the landscape. And I love to pass on what I have that others want. That's the beauty of gardening--getting to know the plants, learning how to care for them, and sharing them with others. The more plants I get, the more I learn and the more I can share.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
WiFi in the Backyard
My brother, showing off with his iPhone, located two WiFi signals in my backyard--can't get them in the house, but that's fine. One is secured, so it probably belongs to the police department; the other is not, so all I have to do is plop down in one of the Adirondack Chairs, plug in my WiFi card, and the computer connects. This morning I answered all of my email and looked up birds on the Internet while I let the sprinkler water the vegetable garden. I took care of the email before 8am and did a bit of birdwatching and identifying.
I don't know where the signal is coming from, but to whoever--Thanks!
*****
The garden is doing well. I saw two nice-sized squash and a few baby ones; I have a bell pepper and an eggplant and a few tomato flowers. I think I have a cucumber--and the vines are blooming all over. The watermelon and the butternut squash have spread out over the garden border, so I need to make sure I don't mow them down.
The sunflowers haven't sprouted any blossoms, but they are tall. I expect they'll start busting out soon. I have a few corn plants, but I don't think those are going to produce. I could be wrong; we'll see. Overall, everything's doing well. I think the Miracle Gro has kicked in. I try to "feed" the gardens once a week. I hope the bees are working, but I haven't see too many lately. I think I'll get some Mason bees in the spring just to make sure I have bees when I need them.
*****
George Carlin died. He is/was one of my counterculture heroes. I first heard his "7 Words You Can't Say on Television" on his album "Class Clown," which is one of the funniest comedy recordings. My brother made me a copy of it (on audio tape--that gives you an idea of how long ago that was!), and, while shocking, that routine is one that has stayed with me for the last 40 years. I could even tell you what those words are, but I'd probably get arrested! So I won't detail them here. But he did some funny riffs on going to Catholic school (I did), and his routine about "stuff" is a classic (and so true). His "Hippie Dippy Weatherman" on The Smothers' Brothers Comedy Hour is a classic character. As long as I can listen to his comedy routines and reread his books, he won't leave me. I think he falls in the comedy ranks of Bob Hope, George Burns, Lenny Bruce, the Marx Brothers, and Steve Martin! He broke new ground for comedy and he wasn't afraid to take risks; he pointed out our foibles and idiocies and made us laugh at ourselves. I will miss his presence, but his comedy will endure.
*****
I learned yesterday that I need to keep my cell phone on when I'm driving. I left my wallet at my mom's house--it fell out of my purse--and she tried to call me to tell me it was there. She's mailing it back to me because it's "too far" to drive to my house to return it! I drive that 90 mile trip as often as necessary, but it's too far for my family! What's with that? I drove in Sunday and Monday--that's 180 miles or so in two days. I don't get it. I've started bribing them with homemade bread and a good meal to get them to visit.
Maybe the WiFi will get them out here more often. That could be a selling point, if I market it right!
I don't know where the signal is coming from, but to whoever--Thanks!
*****
The garden is doing well. I saw two nice-sized squash and a few baby ones; I have a bell pepper and an eggplant and a few tomato flowers. I think I have a cucumber--and the vines are blooming all over. The watermelon and the butternut squash have spread out over the garden border, so I need to make sure I don't mow them down.
The sunflowers haven't sprouted any blossoms, but they are tall. I expect they'll start busting out soon. I have a few corn plants, but I don't think those are going to produce. I could be wrong; we'll see. Overall, everything's doing well. I think the Miracle Gro has kicked in. I try to "feed" the gardens once a week. I hope the bees are working, but I haven't see too many lately. I think I'll get some Mason bees in the spring just to make sure I have bees when I need them.
*****
George Carlin died. He is/was one of my counterculture heroes. I first heard his "7 Words You Can't Say on Television" on his album "Class Clown," which is one of the funniest comedy recordings. My brother made me a copy of it (on audio tape--that gives you an idea of how long ago that was!), and, while shocking, that routine is one that has stayed with me for the last 40 years. I could even tell you what those words are, but I'd probably get arrested! So I won't detail them here. But he did some funny riffs on going to Catholic school (I did), and his routine about "stuff" is a classic (and so true). His "Hippie Dippy Weatherman" on The Smothers' Brothers Comedy Hour is a classic character. As long as I can listen to his comedy routines and reread his books, he won't leave me. I think he falls in the comedy ranks of Bob Hope, George Burns, Lenny Bruce, the Marx Brothers, and Steve Martin! He broke new ground for comedy and he wasn't afraid to take risks; he pointed out our foibles and idiocies and made us laugh at ourselves. I will miss his presence, but his comedy will endure.
*****
I learned yesterday that I need to keep my cell phone on when I'm driving. I left my wallet at my mom's house--it fell out of my purse--and she tried to call me to tell me it was there. She's mailing it back to me because it's "too far" to drive to my house to return it! I drive that 90 mile trip as often as necessary, but it's too far for my family! What's with that? I drove in Sunday and Monday--that's 180 miles or so in two days. I don't get it. I've started bribing them with homemade bread and a good meal to get them to visit.
Maybe the WiFi will get them out here more often. That could be a selling point, if I market it right!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
They're Odd, But They're Family
Well, this has been an interesting Father's Day weekend. I spent Saturday babysitting Skype, waiting for my youngest brother (he lives in Colorado) to install it and contact me. Then I spent the rest of the day waiting for two of my sisters to show up to drop off a load of stuff for me.
My sister Lydia has taken on my yard as a "project," I think, which I don't mind in the least. It's big (about an acre), and I can use all the help I can get. I've planted a few small gardens--I posted pictures of the herb garden she and I created--but I also have my vegetable garden, my camellia garden (flowers), the fence garden (an old piece of fence stuck in the yard for who-knows-what reason), and the front garden (the one where I dug up all of the spider lilies--and I still have those bulbs, if anyone's interested).
When her big red Suburban pulled into the driveway, I had no idea what lurked inside. Two plastic Adirondack chairs (for my birthday), two cedar poles (for the "secret garden" we're working on), several cedar planks left over from fencing her yard (for raised planters), some scrap lumber (I'll do something creative with it), a rack to hang my tools, a hose for the veg. garden (dedicated to that only), two hose hangers, a straight shovel (it's great), and a host of plants (some from the nursery, some from her housekeeper). I have ginger plants, coleus, wandering Jew, and those wonderful orange lilies--not tiger lilies--but the ones that spew out bloom after bloom on the same stalk, and three Esperanzas. I'm sure I'm leaving something out, but I think that gives you an idea. A gardener's Christmas in June! Too bad it's so hot. Working in the yard makes me sweat heavily.
Today, Sunday, I went to my parents' for Father's Day. Usually, these kinds of celebrations cause the house to bulge at the seams, but, today, my father was surrounded by women, most of us single. My brothers were fishing and celebrating with their own children. When I got to the house, my sister had more stuff she forgot to give me--hangers for whatever, and an Off mosquito lantern with refills! And my mom insisted I pull up the remaining edging from her front garden. I'd gotten about half of it when I helped her clean out one side of her front flowerbed. I'm recycling the edging for my front walkway garden. I'll take a picture when I finally get it all in place (I managed to get three more pieces in place today, but was so soaked in sweat, I couldn't finish the job--and that was at 7pm. The sun was behind the trees, but I was so hot I couldn't stand it).
When I talked to my mom on Saturday, she told me to bring the pictures of the chicken coops I was interested in building. So, today, she plotted out how I should build my chicken coop using the shed structure in my backyard. I was thinking about tearing it down, but she sketched out how I could use it to build my frame and chicken run. I had thought about that, but thought I should make a fresh start. She then regaled me with tales about the chickens her grandmother had. My mom's grandmother, Annie, had intended to keep the chickens for food--not eggs, meat. But Annie got rid of the chickens because my mom and her brother, Chris, wouldn't eat the chickens their grandmother killed. The chickens had become pets to them. I don't want to eat any chickens I get; I just want the eggs and the manure for the gardens, so no worries there. I don't mind buying chicken in the store, but I'm not about to start killing them.
When I left to come home, they were hunkered in the living room watching Tiger Woods play golf.
My sister Lydia has taken on my yard as a "project," I think, which I don't mind in the least. It's big (about an acre), and I can use all the help I can get. I've planted a few small gardens--I posted pictures of the herb garden she and I created--but I also have my vegetable garden, my camellia garden (flowers), the fence garden (an old piece of fence stuck in the yard for who-knows-what reason), and the front garden (the one where I dug up all of the spider lilies--and I still have those bulbs, if anyone's interested).
When her big red Suburban pulled into the driveway, I had no idea what lurked inside. Two plastic Adirondack chairs (for my birthday), two cedar poles (for the "secret garden" we're working on), several cedar planks left over from fencing her yard (for raised planters), some scrap lumber (I'll do something creative with it), a rack to hang my tools, a hose for the veg. garden (dedicated to that only), two hose hangers, a straight shovel (it's great), and a host of plants (some from the nursery, some from her housekeeper). I have ginger plants, coleus, wandering Jew, and those wonderful orange lilies--not tiger lilies--but the ones that spew out bloom after bloom on the same stalk, and three Esperanzas. I'm sure I'm leaving something out, but I think that gives you an idea. A gardener's Christmas in June! Too bad it's so hot. Working in the yard makes me sweat heavily.
Today, Sunday, I went to my parents' for Father's Day. Usually, these kinds of celebrations cause the house to bulge at the seams, but, today, my father was surrounded by women, most of us single. My brothers were fishing and celebrating with their own children. When I got to the house, my sister had more stuff she forgot to give me--hangers for whatever, and an Off mosquito lantern with refills! And my mom insisted I pull up the remaining edging from her front garden. I'd gotten about half of it when I helped her clean out one side of her front flowerbed. I'm recycling the edging for my front walkway garden. I'll take a picture when I finally get it all in place (I managed to get three more pieces in place today, but was so soaked in sweat, I couldn't finish the job--and that was at 7pm. The sun was behind the trees, but I was so hot I couldn't stand it).
When I talked to my mom on Saturday, she told me to bring the pictures of the chicken coops I was interested in building. So, today, she plotted out how I should build my chicken coop using the shed structure in my backyard. I was thinking about tearing it down, but she sketched out how I could use it to build my frame and chicken run. I had thought about that, but thought I should make a fresh start. She then regaled me with tales about the chickens her grandmother had. My mom's grandmother, Annie, had intended to keep the chickens for food--not eggs, meat. But Annie got rid of the chickens because my mom and her brother, Chris, wouldn't eat the chickens their grandmother killed. The chickens had become pets to them. I don't want to eat any chickens I get; I just want the eggs and the manure for the gardens, so no worries there. I don't mind buying chicken in the store, but I'm not about to start killing them.
When I left to come home, they were hunkered in the living room watching Tiger Woods play golf.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
I Got My Answer!
I have the annoying habit of losing track of time when I'm reading. It's a terrible curse, I know! So, if I'm reading late at night (or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it), I don't realize how late/early it is until I take a break. That means I usually don't get to bed until 2am or so. One of the perks (?) of getting older is that I don't sleep as much (unless I'm exhausted), and I get up early in the morning.
Right before I went to bed at 2am this morning, the rain began. Well, we did have a brief, heavy rainstorm yesterday afternoon (right after I watered the garden), but the rain at 2am was fierce. I crawled into bed to strikes of lightning and growls of thunder. I couldn't sleep with Mother Nature's grumbling. At 3am, I was sitting in the living room, waiting for the dish TV system to locate a signal. I think I finally went to sleep at about 4 or 5am. And I got up at 8:30am, so I know one person who will take a nap this afternoon.
My garden loved the rain, in spite of the small limbs that the wind shook down on it. I found my one tomato on the ground. I'll let it ripen on the window sill. I had to stake another tomato plant, but, other than that, everything seems to have survived. I just hope all of my gardens have enough water for a few days. I guess this calls for a tour of the yard to make sure everything is okay.
To change the subject, my cats annoy me. We were down to the bottom of the food bucket where the "old" food is. It stays fresh because the lid snaps on tight, but it's a brand of cat food they don't like, so none of them would eat it. I filled the bowls up yesterday and this morning, and they just sniffed at it and walked away. And, boy, do they complain! "Meow, meow, meow. Lady, when are you going to get some decent food? We want the good stuff, and we mean NOW!"
So, off to the store I went, the dutiful servant--I mean "master." For a large bag of cat food and a four-pack of toilet tissue, I spent almost $20. What the heck is going on here? I guess I could lead the cats away with a breadcrumb trail of expensive treats. They'd just come back. I just know it. But how can you not buy toilet paper? Can anyone recommend a substitute? Gee, on second thought, I don't want to contemplate an alternative.
I guess what I'm saving on gas for the car I'll be spending at the store. Since I'm a big conspiracy buff, this is what I'm thinking. I think the oil companies are helping themselves to our money in order to persuade us (extort us?) into letting them drill for oil in the Alaska Reserve and off the coasts of our beaches. That's just what I think. Of course, I think we're contributing to our own hardships by driving huge cars, driving too fast, and driving too much. I'd love to see more people in jobs where they could telecommute. Companies would save overhead by not having to rent huge buildings (sorry, realtors!), and people wouldn't be driving so much. I realize this isn't possible in every type of business. Sometimes, you have to have an office, and you have to drive. But wouldn't it be nice if more people didn't have to? We could cut our oil dependency somewhat if we could just stay home.
It's too bad more people don't live closer to the necessities, such as grocery stores and dry cleaners. Maybe the "old days" have something to teach us about community living that we've forgotten.
Right before I went to bed at 2am this morning, the rain began. Well, we did have a brief, heavy rainstorm yesterday afternoon (right after I watered the garden), but the rain at 2am was fierce. I crawled into bed to strikes of lightning and growls of thunder. I couldn't sleep with Mother Nature's grumbling. At 3am, I was sitting in the living room, waiting for the dish TV system to locate a signal. I think I finally went to sleep at about 4 or 5am. And I got up at 8:30am, so I know one person who will take a nap this afternoon.
My garden loved the rain, in spite of the small limbs that the wind shook down on it. I found my one tomato on the ground. I'll let it ripen on the window sill. I had to stake another tomato plant, but, other than that, everything seems to have survived. I just hope all of my gardens have enough water for a few days. I guess this calls for a tour of the yard to make sure everything is okay.
To change the subject, my cats annoy me. We were down to the bottom of the food bucket where the "old" food is. It stays fresh because the lid snaps on tight, but it's a brand of cat food they don't like, so none of them would eat it. I filled the bowls up yesterday and this morning, and they just sniffed at it and walked away. And, boy, do they complain! "Meow, meow, meow. Lady, when are you going to get some decent food? We want the good stuff, and we mean NOW!"
So, off to the store I went, the dutiful servant--I mean "master." For a large bag of cat food and a four-pack of toilet tissue, I spent almost $20. What the heck is going on here? I guess I could lead the cats away with a breadcrumb trail of expensive treats. They'd just come back. I just know it. But how can you not buy toilet paper? Can anyone recommend a substitute? Gee, on second thought, I don't want to contemplate an alternative.
I guess what I'm saving on gas for the car I'll be spending at the store. Since I'm a big conspiracy buff, this is what I'm thinking. I think the oil companies are helping themselves to our money in order to persuade us (extort us?) into letting them drill for oil in the Alaska Reserve and off the coasts of our beaches. That's just what I think. Of course, I think we're contributing to our own hardships by driving huge cars, driving too fast, and driving too much. I'd love to see more people in jobs where they could telecommute. Companies would save overhead by not having to rent huge buildings (sorry, realtors!), and people wouldn't be driving so much. I realize this isn't possible in every type of business. Sometimes, you have to have an office, and you have to drive. But wouldn't it be nice if more people didn't have to? We could cut our oil dependency somewhat if we could just stay home.
It's too bad more people don't live closer to the necessities, such as grocery stores and dry cleaners. Maybe the "old days" have something to teach us about community living that we've forgotten.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Where's the Rain?
June has just barely arrived, and I can hardly stand to go outside. These 90-degree temps have me hunkering in the house. The thermostat is set to 76 to hold down the energy costs (Ha!), and I'm comfortable, but I have so much I need to do outside; I just can't face those chores right now.
On Tuesday, I planted two climbing bushes my mom and my sis gave me on the back fence. I got up yesterday and found a large tree limb straddling the fence right where I planted the bushes. What are the odds of that? So, early Wednesday, armed with my saws and loppers, I took down the limb on my side of the fence, leaving the rest for my neighbor. I think she got the heavier end of it!
I spent the hottest part of the day cleaning out the closet in my study. How can one person cram so much stuff in a closet? And it's not a big closet, either. I took out three bags of clothes--some for my daughter, some for Goodwill--and I put the computer gadget bookshelf in there to get it out of my sight. I feel as though I have a bit more space in the room; it doesn't feel so wall-to-wall. And everything is organized. I just love organization. So, today, I need to tackle the closet in my bedroom--but I haven't had enough coffee yet!
On Tuesday, I planted two climbing bushes my mom and my sis gave me on the back fence. I got up yesterday and found a large tree limb straddling the fence right where I planted the bushes. What are the odds of that? So, early Wednesday, armed with my saws and loppers, I took down the limb on my side of the fence, leaving the rest for my neighbor. I think she got the heavier end of it!
I spent the hottest part of the day cleaning out the closet in my study. How can one person cram so much stuff in a closet? And it's not a big closet, either. I took out three bags of clothes--some for my daughter, some for Goodwill--and I put the computer gadget bookshelf in there to get it out of my sight. I feel as though I have a bit more space in the room; it doesn't feel so wall-to-wall. And everything is organized. I just love organization. So, today, I need to tackle the closet in my bedroom--but I haven't had enough coffee yet!
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Staying at Home
I'm enjoying not driving on a daily basis. I mean, I still drive, just not as often. I did go into the big city yesterday to visit my parents and drop a check in the night deposit slot at the bank, but I don't drive four or five days a week. And, since I'm not driving 90 miles a day and staying away from home for long hours, I've been working around, on and in my house.
So, today, I tackled the garage. Since I moved in three years ago and unpacked most of my stuff, I've had a stack of empty boxes piled in there. I finally broke them down; I filled up my trash can and have another stack that won't fit in there this time. I used nails and hooks to hang up my hand tools and an old rack someone gave me for my long-handled tools. I neatly restacked the boxes of books I don't have shelves for on the wall opposite the tools. I swept out the garage. If not for the riding lawnmower, I'd have room to park my car!
Before the day got too hot, I put some edging around the front garden I dug up this week, but I don't have enough of it. My mom needs to finish her front flower bed before I'll get the rest of the edging, but, so far, the front garden looks good. And I finished mowing the front yard.
I washed all of my dirty clothes. I had company last week--my sister--and I've been ignoring that chore. And I still need to close up the back wall of the shower. I'm so tempted to start pulling up carpet, but I have to think through that project before I start it--I'd need a pry bar and sandpaper, and polyurethane, and who knows what. So I'd better put that off for a while. But it's on the list of things to do, along with the chicken coop and yard, the compost bin, raised planting beds...
So, today, I tackled the garage. Since I moved in three years ago and unpacked most of my stuff, I've had a stack of empty boxes piled in there. I finally broke them down; I filled up my trash can and have another stack that won't fit in there this time. I used nails and hooks to hang up my hand tools and an old rack someone gave me for my long-handled tools. I neatly restacked the boxes of books I don't have shelves for on the wall opposite the tools. I swept out the garage. If not for the riding lawnmower, I'd have room to park my car!
Before the day got too hot, I put some edging around the front garden I dug up this week, but I don't have enough of it. My mom needs to finish her front flower bed before I'll get the rest of the edging, but, so far, the front garden looks good. And I finished mowing the front yard.
I washed all of my dirty clothes. I had company last week--my sister--and I've been ignoring that chore. And I still need to close up the back wall of the shower. I'm so tempted to start pulling up carpet, but I have to think through that project before I start it--I'd need a pry bar and sandpaper, and polyurethane, and who knows what. So I'd better put that off for a while. But it's on the list of things to do, along with the chicken coop and yard, the compost bin, raised planting beds...
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
The Herb Garden
I finally got some batteries for my camera and took some pictures of the herb garden my sister and I planted. When Dorothy and Pete were here at Christmas, they found some melamine plates in the old shed. We used those plus some stoneware plates I had to create the border around the garden. Plus, my sister had some bee chotchkas that we put in there. The kittens love it; they chase each other around in in. I'm afraid they are going to destroy the herbs.
Oh, and if you want spider lily bulbs, I have a huge box and a tall bag full. I've been digging up the ground in front of the sidewalk out front. I've only gotten half the area dug up; I think I'll end up with more and I have no idea what to do with them! I like spider lilies, but a box and a bag full of them? I'm sure I didn't get all of them, so a few will pop up in the spring. So, if you want some, just leave a comment and we'll work it out.
Monday, May 26, 2008
The Plumbing Debacle Redux
After $250 dollars and several hours of chipping at concrete, I have a working bathroom.
Not only did the plumber put in new fittings, faucets and a shower head, because I demolished the wall, he also fixed the toilet and unstopped my bathroom sink (it was running slow). I don't have to close the bathroom door to keep from hearing the toilet run and the shower drip. I just have to be careful not to drop an earring down the bathroom sink--he took out the "built-in" stopper because it kept getting gunked up.
To recap--I took down the wall behind the shower stall to help with the repair work and to lower my costs. When I took down said wall, I found a mess of concrete and 2x4s. Mr. Lindsey spent a good hour chipping away at cement buildup just to get to the pipe fittings, and, of course, he had to remove the 2x4 right above the fittings. What he charged me seems a pittance, considering what he had to do to fix the leak. Once he finished the shower, he gutted the toilet tank and put in low-flow works--it uses less water to flush and it fills up faster. I don't have to wait 15 minutes for the tank to shut off. And then he took the stopper out of the sink, grabbed the plunger, and, in two seconds, flushed out all the gunk that had built up in the sink pipes.
What a guy! And he also does electrical work, so, when I'm ready to put in a breaker box to replace the fuse box in the garage, I know who I'm going to call.
When I told my sister what he charged me, she asked me if I thought he'd come to Houston and do some work for her. Probably, if she wants to pay for his gas!
As soon as I recharge my AA batteries, I'll take pictures of the (still) open wall so you can see his excellent work, unless I decide to do the drywalling before then. I've spent the last three days working in the yard, but I'll write about that next time.
I don't mind paying for good work, and I certainly don't mind paying when the person I'm paying goes above and beyond. And Mr. Lindsey has never let me down. This is the third time he's done plumbing work for me (not in the same house, not for the same problem), and he works quickly and accurately. He does what he says he will do. So, the next time I need plumbing or electrical work, I'll call him. I have his number on speed dial.
*****
I stopped by Mr. Lester's twice Saturday--once on the way to my mother's, and, again, with my sister on the way back to my house.
The first trip, I bought a huge cabbage for my mom, a head of lettuce, about three pounds of yellow squash, and about three pounds of new potatoes for $9.80. (I split the squash with my mom, too.) On the way back, I bought a round zucchini (round like a small pumpkin!), some fresh corn, and a jar of local honey. I think that's all, and I think I spent about $10 (the honey was $6.95 for a pint).
My mom came out to my house on Sunday and cooked half the cabbage (with some of the potatoes) and the squash. My sister and I had the leftovers and added the corn for dinner. A mostly vegetarian day! And all of it was excellent. I'll be so glad when my garden starts producing--but I did spy a tomato today, so the vegetable garden is progressing!
Not only did the plumber put in new fittings, faucets and a shower head, because I demolished the wall, he also fixed the toilet and unstopped my bathroom sink (it was running slow). I don't have to close the bathroom door to keep from hearing the toilet run and the shower drip. I just have to be careful not to drop an earring down the bathroom sink--he took out the "built-in" stopper because it kept getting gunked up.
To recap--I took down the wall behind the shower stall to help with the repair work and to lower my costs. When I took down said wall, I found a mess of concrete and 2x4s. Mr. Lindsey spent a good hour chipping away at cement buildup just to get to the pipe fittings, and, of course, he had to remove the 2x4 right above the fittings. What he charged me seems a pittance, considering what he had to do to fix the leak. Once he finished the shower, he gutted the toilet tank and put in low-flow works--it uses less water to flush and it fills up faster. I don't have to wait 15 minutes for the tank to shut off. And then he took the stopper out of the sink, grabbed the plunger, and, in two seconds, flushed out all the gunk that had built up in the sink pipes.
What a guy! And he also does electrical work, so, when I'm ready to put in a breaker box to replace the fuse box in the garage, I know who I'm going to call.
When I told my sister what he charged me, she asked me if I thought he'd come to Houston and do some work for her. Probably, if she wants to pay for his gas!
As soon as I recharge my AA batteries, I'll take pictures of the (still) open wall so you can see his excellent work, unless I decide to do the drywalling before then. I've spent the last three days working in the yard, but I'll write about that next time.
I don't mind paying for good work, and I certainly don't mind paying when the person I'm paying goes above and beyond. And Mr. Lindsey has never let me down. This is the third time he's done plumbing work for me (not in the same house, not for the same problem), and he works quickly and accurately. He does what he says he will do. So, the next time I need plumbing or electrical work, I'll call him. I have his number on speed dial.
*****
I stopped by Mr. Lester's twice Saturday--once on the way to my mother's, and, again, with my sister on the way back to my house.
The first trip, I bought a huge cabbage for my mom, a head of lettuce, about three pounds of yellow squash, and about three pounds of new potatoes for $9.80. (I split the squash with my mom, too.) On the way back, I bought a round zucchini (round like a small pumpkin!), some fresh corn, and a jar of local honey. I think that's all, and I think I spent about $10 (the honey was $6.95 for a pint).
My mom came out to my house on Sunday and cooked half the cabbage (with some of the potatoes) and the squash. My sister and I had the leftovers and added the corn for dinner. A mostly vegetarian day! And all of it was excellent. I'll be so glad when my garden starts producing--but I did spy a tomato today, so the vegetable garden is progressing!
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The Plumbing Debacle
I was taking a shower last Thursday when I heard a pipe-like clunk, the the water pressure dropped. A long string of swear words flew out of my mouth as hot water scalded my back.
I didn't think much of it. It's not unusual in this town for an errant car to take out a fire hydrant and plunge the water pressure. I didn't hear any running water, so I didn't think much about it until the next night. I went to take a shower, and the water pressure sucked. So, I went to the Internet.
One of the great things about the 'net, besides blogs, is that I can find information about anything. So, I read up on low water pressure and decided I needed to take my shower head apart and reseat the washers, and, for a night, at least, that worked.
The next day, Saturday, I was brushing my teeth when I noticed an odd noise. I couldn't figure out what it was; actually, I thought it was my imagination. Until later in the day, that is, and on Sunday, when the noise escalated into a low hum. Every cold water pipe in my house was vibrating, and the noise sounded similar to a small wind tunnel.
I called a plumber on Monday, left a message, and didn't get a call back. So, I called another plumber on Tuesday, Mr. Lindsey. He worked on the water heater before I moved into the house. His wife is his assistant, and she's a nice person.
Mr. Lindsey came out, turned off the water, and proceeded to take the shower faucets off. Except he couldn't completely take the faucets off because whoever put the faucets in used non-standard washers and fittings. Mr. Lindsey didn't have sockets that fit. He put the faucets back on, turned on the water, and told me he'd come back Wednesday with some other sockets to try.
He came back Wednesday with three new sockets. One worked--on the first washer he had to take off--but not on the second. His opinion? They don't make a socket that size. My question--how the hell did the person who built the shower put the washer on in the first place? He didn't have an answer.
"What are my options?" I asked, innocently. Try to find the right socket (which he was pretty sure didn't exist) or rip out the tile wall on the toilet side of the shower so he could get to the faucets from the back. Or live with the drip in the shower (I was mighty tempted).
"And how much will ripping out the wall cost?" I asked again, innocently. Well, if he had to rip out the tile and the drywall, I would be looking at $250, minimum. I choked. And begged him to try to find a socket that would fit. We scheduled our third plumbing session for Friday.
I was supposed to go to a QM seminar for online teaching today. As I was pulling out of my driveway at 7:30am this morning, a backhoe met me in my driveway. The driver pulled off into my yard. "What's going on?" I asked. "Oh, there's a water leak in the ditch; it's on the city side, so I'm going to fix it."
I hadn't noticed any leaking water, but we've had some rain lately. I found out today that my plumber noticed the leak on Tuesday and called the city to fix it. But he didn't tell me he did that.
So, I cancelled my attendance at the seminar. I'm not about to go off for an entire day while some guy with a backhoe digs up my yard. I could come home and find the water turned off with an ominous note about a leak that might cost $1,000 to fix.
The city guys fixed the leak in 40 minutes. Why can't my shower leak be fixed as quickly?
So, the plumber and I played phone tag today. When we finally spoke, I asked him if he had found the socket. "No," he said. My only option was to rip out the wall.
I did. All by myself. I took off all of the tile on the backside of the shower. I chipped off cement and ripped out the metal mesh. I ripped out the sheet rock. Guess what? A 2' x 4' sits almost right on top of the pipes. I still don't think he'll be able to get to what he needs unless he cuts out the board. And so much cement is gunked up in there that we'll probably have to chip it out to get a clear shot at the pipes. Mr. Lindsey is going to sit on the floor and cry. I almost did. After two hours of chiseling and chipping and ripping, I faced a bloody mess.
But I did it. That will, at least, decrease the labor costs. And I think that Mr. Lindsey didn't think I'd be able to do it. His voice held a trace of skepticism when I told him I would do it. He may still not be happy about what he sees, but at least he didn't have to do it.
One of the best things, though, is that I've increased my tool count. I bought grinding wheels to use with my drill, safety goggles, masks, and a drywall saw. I used the pitchfork I bought the other day to help pry the wire and concrete off the wall (I don't have a crowbar--yet).
But the BEST thing is--I did it ALL BY MYSELF! And I'm going to repair the drywall ALL BY MYSELF, too. The more I can do for myself, the better I feel.
Now to tackle cleaning out the gutters!
*****
P.S. Mr. Lester's produce stand has opened! You should come and check it out--south on Highway 1 from Shreveport; turn left at the blinking light at Armistead. His stand is on the right side of the road before you get to the Red River Bridge.
I didn't think much of it. It's not unusual in this town for an errant car to take out a fire hydrant and plunge the water pressure. I didn't hear any running water, so I didn't think much about it until the next night. I went to take a shower, and the water pressure sucked. So, I went to the Internet.
One of the great things about the 'net, besides blogs, is that I can find information about anything. So, I read up on low water pressure and decided I needed to take my shower head apart and reseat the washers, and, for a night, at least, that worked.
The next day, Saturday, I was brushing my teeth when I noticed an odd noise. I couldn't figure out what it was; actually, I thought it was my imagination. Until later in the day, that is, and on Sunday, when the noise escalated into a low hum. Every cold water pipe in my house was vibrating, and the noise sounded similar to a small wind tunnel.
I called a plumber on Monday, left a message, and didn't get a call back. So, I called another plumber on Tuesday, Mr. Lindsey. He worked on the water heater before I moved into the house. His wife is his assistant, and she's a nice person.
Mr. Lindsey came out, turned off the water, and proceeded to take the shower faucets off. Except he couldn't completely take the faucets off because whoever put the faucets in used non-standard washers and fittings. Mr. Lindsey didn't have sockets that fit. He put the faucets back on, turned on the water, and told me he'd come back Wednesday with some other sockets to try.
He came back Wednesday with three new sockets. One worked--on the first washer he had to take off--but not on the second. His opinion? They don't make a socket that size. My question--how the hell did the person who built the shower put the washer on in the first place? He didn't have an answer.
"What are my options?" I asked, innocently. Try to find the right socket (which he was pretty sure didn't exist) or rip out the tile wall on the toilet side of the shower so he could get to the faucets from the back. Or live with the drip in the shower (I was mighty tempted).
"And how much will ripping out the wall cost?" I asked again, innocently. Well, if he had to rip out the tile and the drywall, I would be looking at $250, minimum. I choked. And begged him to try to find a socket that would fit. We scheduled our third plumbing session for Friday.
I was supposed to go to a QM seminar for online teaching today. As I was pulling out of my driveway at 7:30am this morning, a backhoe met me in my driveway. The driver pulled off into my yard. "What's going on?" I asked. "Oh, there's a water leak in the ditch; it's on the city side, so I'm going to fix it."
I hadn't noticed any leaking water, but we've had some rain lately. I found out today that my plumber noticed the leak on Tuesday and called the city to fix it. But he didn't tell me he did that.
So, I cancelled my attendance at the seminar. I'm not about to go off for an entire day while some guy with a backhoe digs up my yard. I could come home and find the water turned off with an ominous note about a leak that might cost $1,000 to fix.
The city guys fixed the leak in 40 minutes. Why can't my shower leak be fixed as quickly?
So, the plumber and I played phone tag today. When we finally spoke, I asked him if he had found the socket. "No," he said. My only option was to rip out the wall.
I did. All by myself. I took off all of the tile on the backside of the shower. I chipped off cement and ripped out the metal mesh. I ripped out the sheet rock. Guess what? A 2' x 4' sits almost right on top of the pipes. I still don't think he'll be able to get to what he needs unless he cuts out the board. And so much cement is gunked up in there that we'll probably have to chip it out to get a clear shot at the pipes. Mr. Lindsey is going to sit on the floor and cry. I almost did. After two hours of chiseling and chipping and ripping, I faced a bloody mess.
But I did it. That will, at least, decrease the labor costs. And I think that Mr. Lindsey didn't think I'd be able to do it. His voice held a trace of skepticism when I told him I would do it. He may still not be happy about what he sees, but at least he didn't have to do it.
One of the best things, though, is that I've increased my tool count. I bought grinding wheels to use with my drill, safety goggles, masks, and a drywall saw. I used the pitchfork I bought the other day to help pry the wire and concrete off the wall (I don't have a crowbar--yet).
But the BEST thing is--I did it ALL BY MYSELF! And I'm going to repair the drywall ALL BY MYSELF, too. The more I can do for myself, the better I feel.
Now to tackle cleaning out the gutters!
*****
P.S. Mr. Lester's produce stand has opened! You should come and check it out--south on Highway 1 from Shreveport; turn left at the blinking light at Armistead. His stand is on the right side of the road before you get to the Red River Bridge.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Raindrops keep falling on my head...
so I'm staying inside, doing inside work.
I edited two files for NAF, and reviewed a transcript I spent 11 hours typing yesterday. Really, if you've never done transcription, word up--a one-hour voice file takes me anywhere from nine to twelve hours to transcribe. Seems slow, maybe, but I edit as I go. Most transcriptionists just type what they hear and ignore punctuation, etc. (That's why I edit transcipts, too. The punctuation usually sucks.) I was up until 2am doing that; I slept until almost 10am this morning, which was nice. The rain kept the sun from shining in the bedroom window--the sun always wakes me.
I was going to tackle the periwinkle bed that surrounds the pecan tree in the back yard, but I guess I'll postpone that until later in the week. I did transplant irises yesterday. I had a bunch around the carport; I dug those up. My mom gave me a bag full, so I dispersed them at various points in the front and back yards. Hopefully, I'll have a riot of color next spring--purple, blue, yellow, white.
Oh, and does anyone want a kitten? I have a feral cat who had five cute kittens--two solid gray, two gray and white, and one gray with a few white accents. I need to trap the mother and have her neutered (anyone have a cat trap?); the babies aren't too scared of me yet--I can pick them up--but the mom will eventually make them run away from me. I need to find homes for them now, so, if you want one, let me know, and you can come catch the one you want.
I restarted my sourdough starter and baked some sourdough biscuits this morning--yummy. And I made a loaf of artisan bread--one of the easiest bread recipes in the world. No kneading, really, but the bread needs a first rising of from 8 to 12 hours. I added wheat flour to this loaf; it's also yummy. I think I'll tackle sourdough bagels tomorrow. I have a simple recipe for those, and I used to make bagels all the time. The price of flour has increased, but it's still cheaper to buy the flour and make my own bread. A loaf of bread costs almost as much as a bag of flour; I can get six or seven loaves of bread from a bag of flour.
Here are two simple bread recipes:
Beer Bread
2 1/2 cups self-rising flour (if using unbleached, add salt, baking powder and soda--you'll have to figure out the measurements for those!)
1-12 oz. can/bottle of beer, cheap or expensive, your choice.
Pour 1/2 of the beer into the flour and stir (no sipping!). When absorbed, pour in the rest of the beer. You can add shredded cheese, garlic, veggies, whatever, to this bread. Scrape into a large bread pan and bake at 375 degrees until done, about 45 minutes.
Artisan Bread
I got this recipe from Mother Earth News.
You need a covered crock to bake this in. I use the insert from my crock pot. Works great. But don't bake this in a metal pan--you'll have to pry it out with a crowbar! And be careful with Pyrex--that may shatter at such high temps.
3 cups unbleached flour, bread flour, wheat flour, or a combination.
1 tsp. salt
1/4 teaspoon yeast (if you buy the packets, you don't need to use the whole thing--just 1/4 tsp.)
1 1/2 cups warm water.
Dissolve the yeast in the water. Add the flour and salt and stir. The dough will be wet and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap or a towel and set to rise in a warm place for 8 to 12 hours.
Dump sticky dough onto floured surface; fold dough on itself 4 or 5 times, flouring as you go. Shape into a round loaf. Dust a towel with cornmeal; place the loaf on the cornmeal towel; dust the top of the loaf with flour. Cover with a towel and let rise for 2 hours.
About 20 minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Place the pot in which you will bake the bread in the oven to preheat it. After 20 minutes, take the pot out of the oven, slide the bread, cornmeal side down, into the pot. Place cover on pot and return to oven. Let the bread bake with the cover on until the top turns just brown (about 30 minutes). Remove the cover from the pot, and bake for another 15 minutes or so, until a probe inserted into the bread comes out clean.
Remove the pan from the oven, remove the bread from the pan, and set to cool on a wire rack. Wait at least an hour before cutting. Really good for thick sandwiches or with a pot of homemade soup or stew.
So, make a loaf of bread! It's another way to destress and to enjoy the fruits of your labor!
I edited two files for NAF, and reviewed a transcript I spent 11 hours typing yesterday. Really, if you've never done transcription, word up--a one-hour voice file takes me anywhere from nine to twelve hours to transcribe. Seems slow, maybe, but I edit as I go. Most transcriptionists just type what they hear and ignore punctuation, etc. (That's why I edit transcipts, too. The punctuation usually sucks.) I was up until 2am doing that; I slept until almost 10am this morning, which was nice. The rain kept the sun from shining in the bedroom window--the sun always wakes me.
I was going to tackle the periwinkle bed that surrounds the pecan tree in the back yard, but I guess I'll postpone that until later in the week. I did transplant irises yesterday. I had a bunch around the carport; I dug those up. My mom gave me a bag full, so I dispersed them at various points in the front and back yards. Hopefully, I'll have a riot of color next spring--purple, blue, yellow, white.
Oh, and does anyone want a kitten? I have a feral cat who had five cute kittens--two solid gray, two gray and white, and one gray with a few white accents. I need to trap the mother and have her neutered (anyone have a cat trap?); the babies aren't too scared of me yet--I can pick them up--but the mom will eventually make them run away from me. I need to find homes for them now, so, if you want one, let me know, and you can come catch the one you want.
I restarted my sourdough starter and baked some sourdough biscuits this morning--yummy. And I made a loaf of artisan bread--one of the easiest bread recipes in the world. No kneading, really, but the bread needs a first rising of from 8 to 12 hours. I added wheat flour to this loaf; it's also yummy. I think I'll tackle sourdough bagels tomorrow. I have a simple recipe for those, and I used to make bagels all the time. The price of flour has increased, but it's still cheaper to buy the flour and make my own bread. A loaf of bread costs almost as much as a bag of flour; I can get six or seven loaves of bread from a bag of flour.
Here are two simple bread recipes:
Beer Bread
2 1/2 cups self-rising flour (if using unbleached, add salt, baking powder and soda--you'll have to figure out the measurements for those!)
1-12 oz. can/bottle of beer, cheap or expensive, your choice.
Pour 1/2 of the beer into the flour and stir (no sipping!). When absorbed, pour in the rest of the beer. You can add shredded cheese, garlic, veggies, whatever, to this bread. Scrape into a large bread pan and bake at 375 degrees until done, about 45 minutes.
Artisan Bread
I got this recipe from Mother Earth News.
You need a covered crock to bake this in. I use the insert from my crock pot. Works great. But don't bake this in a metal pan--you'll have to pry it out with a crowbar! And be careful with Pyrex--that may shatter at such high temps.
3 cups unbleached flour, bread flour, wheat flour, or a combination.
1 tsp. salt
1/4 teaspoon yeast (if you buy the packets, you don't need to use the whole thing--just 1/4 tsp.)
1 1/2 cups warm water.
Dissolve the yeast in the water. Add the flour and salt and stir. The dough will be wet and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap or a towel and set to rise in a warm place for 8 to 12 hours.
Dump sticky dough onto floured surface; fold dough on itself 4 or 5 times, flouring as you go. Shape into a round loaf. Dust a towel with cornmeal; place the loaf on the cornmeal towel; dust the top of the loaf with flour. Cover with a towel and let rise for 2 hours.
About 20 minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Place the pot in which you will bake the bread in the oven to preheat it. After 20 minutes, take the pot out of the oven, slide the bread, cornmeal side down, into the pot. Place cover on pot and return to oven. Let the bread bake with the cover on until the top turns just brown (about 30 minutes). Remove the cover from the pot, and bake for another 15 minutes or so, until a probe inserted into the bread comes out clean.
Remove the pan from the oven, remove the bread from the pan, and set to cool on a wire rack. Wait at least an hour before cutting. Really good for thick sandwiches or with a pot of homemade soup or stew.
So, make a loaf of bread! It's another way to destress and to enjoy the fruits of your labor!
Sunday, May 11, 2008
A raging case of poison ivy...
and it's my own fault. I didn't wear long sleeves. So, the calamine lotion stays close to hand.
But I've made some progress on my yard, which is my summer "task." I planted my puny little garden, which is growing slowly (I'll probably pick tomatoes in August at this rate!); but I also cleaned out the area around this odd piece of fencing in my backyard and the corner of the front "flower bed." I cut down an errant holly bush that was growing under the carport, and trimmed the azaleas obscuring the back windows.
I bought a cultivator--it's not quite a tiller--but it works well with my loamy soil and makes weeding a breeze. And I've been able to beef up my compost pile with all kinds of green and brown matter, not to mention banana peels, apple cores, and eggshells. I've mowed the grass twice--the last time, I finished the whole thing in about 1 1/2 hours.
My ultimate goal this summer is to build a chicken coop and get a couple of chickens. Don't know if I will succeed, but I'm going to try.
Mr. Lester's produce stand should be opening soon--if not tomorrow, then the next week. I try to go at least twice--I wait until the last week to buy my peaches. The later peaches are more ripe when they are picked, and I can make peach honey with them. I always buy my mom a cabbage, and I get some locally-produced honey. Mr. L's prices are usually pretty good, but I wonder how the cost of gas will affect him this year.
I haven't been doing much since I posted my grades--answering email, doing some work for the Norton Art Foundation--and I do need to get my summer class up and running. But I've tried to work in the yard everyday. I need the exercise! And it's good for me, too. Besides, the weather has been so pleasant. Who wants to stay inside all day?
So, go outside and dig in the dirt. It's the best therapy for overwork.
But I've made some progress on my yard, which is my summer "task." I planted my puny little garden, which is growing slowly (I'll probably pick tomatoes in August at this rate!); but I also cleaned out the area around this odd piece of fencing in my backyard and the corner of the front "flower bed." I cut down an errant holly bush that was growing under the carport, and trimmed the azaleas obscuring the back windows.
I bought a cultivator--it's not quite a tiller--but it works well with my loamy soil and makes weeding a breeze. And I've been able to beef up my compost pile with all kinds of green and brown matter, not to mention banana peels, apple cores, and eggshells. I've mowed the grass twice--the last time, I finished the whole thing in about 1 1/2 hours.
My ultimate goal this summer is to build a chicken coop and get a couple of chickens. Don't know if I will succeed, but I'm going to try.
Mr. Lester's produce stand should be opening soon--if not tomorrow, then the next week. I try to go at least twice--I wait until the last week to buy my peaches. The later peaches are more ripe when they are picked, and I can make peach honey with them. I always buy my mom a cabbage, and I get some locally-produced honey. Mr. L's prices are usually pretty good, but I wonder how the cost of gas will affect him this year.
I haven't been doing much since I posted my grades--answering email, doing some work for the Norton Art Foundation--and I do need to get my summer class up and running. But I've tried to work in the yard everyday. I need the exercise! And it's good for me, too. Besides, the weather has been so pleasant. Who wants to stay inside all day?
So, go outside and dig in the dirt. It's the best therapy for overwork.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
The Usual End-of-Semester Post
Well, actually, it's not a usual post. And it's not quite the end of the semester, though the end is in sight.
The College of Liberal Arts, the college in which I teach, had it's annual social last night. I honestly thought about ditching it because of the gas prices. I know--if I lived in Europe, I'd have something to complain about. I suppose everything is relative. But, with a budget already strained beyond its limits, high gas prices are the "straw" on my camel's back. I am grateful for distance learning--its my pathetic stab at the hearts of the huge oil companies. For three months or so, I will not drive so much, thereby doing my part to conserve resources. If all of us could work from home at least one day a week, we'd probably conserve quite a bit of gas--as long as we didn't use the day away from the company to run the roads!
Anyway, I bit the gas bullet and attended the social. I had received a couple of anxious "You are going, aren't you?" requests on Thursday before I left for the day. That should have clued me that the game was afoot. But I dismissed any thoughts of what might be coming. I've attended these socials for years. They are fun and great ways to spend time with your colleagues--especially people from other departments who I hardly see.
Every year, the department hands out awards--three to adjuncts (who contribute a great deal to the smooth-running of any department) and three to full-time faculty. The awards to the full-time faculty go for service, scholarship, and teaching. This year, a history colleague received the scholarship award, as he should have; the service award went to a music professor, as it should have; and--hold on to your hats--I received the teaching award.
"Shocked" is the first word that comes to mind, "delighted" is the second, and "humble" is the third. I have the framed certificate sitting on a shelf in my living room. Every once in a while, I glance at it and feel grateful for the opportunity to do what I love. Where else could I have this much fun? I get to talk about writing and literature, commas and semicolons, and anything else that appears to be relevant to whatever course I'm teaching at the moment. I meet great people, make friends, and get to fuss when necessary. And I have a cool work environment--an office with a window and free books from book companies that want us to adopt their texts. Not bad.
I spent thirty years trying NOT to teach. I kept thinking that I could make more money doing something else--computing services, technical support, administrative assistant-type jobs. I almost always ended up teaching something. Desperation drove me back to academia. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me--right up there with being born and having my children.
My life lesson--money isn't everything. Teaching pays decently, but, if we work only for money, then any money we earn is tainted with dissatisfaction. I have to love my work first. Otherwise, it becomes drudgery. One thing I can say for sure is that teaching never gets dull, and, while it does have some tediousness (I don't really like to grade papers all of the time), it's one of the most creative and thought-provoking jobs in the world. I get paid to think; I get paid to have fun and share my love of English. Who could ask for more than that?
I don't know that any of my colleagues read this blog, but, if any of them do, I say "Thank you." Thank you for your support, thank you for your joy, thank you for being willing to share yourselves and your talents.
To my students--past, present, and future--thank you for making what I do so much fun. Thanks for your enthusiam, your struggles, your effort. Just thanks!
The College of Liberal Arts, the college in which I teach, had it's annual social last night. I honestly thought about ditching it because of the gas prices. I know--if I lived in Europe, I'd have something to complain about. I suppose everything is relative. But, with a budget already strained beyond its limits, high gas prices are the "straw" on my camel's back. I am grateful for distance learning--its my pathetic stab at the hearts of the huge oil companies. For three months or so, I will not drive so much, thereby doing my part to conserve resources. If all of us could work from home at least one day a week, we'd probably conserve quite a bit of gas--as long as we didn't use the day away from the company to run the roads!
Anyway, I bit the gas bullet and attended the social. I had received a couple of anxious "You are going, aren't you?" requests on Thursday before I left for the day. That should have clued me that the game was afoot. But I dismissed any thoughts of what might be coming. I've attended these socials for years. They are fun and great ways to spend time with your colleagues--especially people from other departments who I hardly see.
Every year, the department hands out awards--three to adjuncts (who contribute a great deal to the smooth-running of any department) and three to full-time faculty. The awards to the full-time faculty go for service, scholarship, and teaching. This year, a history colleague received the scholarship award, as he should have; the service award went to a music professor, as it should have; and--hold on to your hats--I received the teaching award.
"Shocked" is the first word that comes to mind, "delighted" is the second, and "humble" is the third. I have the framed certificate sitting on a shelf in my living room. Every once in a while, I glance at it and feel grateful for the opportunity to do what I love. Where else could I have this much fun? I get to talk about writing and literature, commas and semicolons, and anything else that appears to be relevant to whatever course I'm teaching at the moment. I meet great people, make friends, and get to fuss when necessary. And I have a cool work environment--an office with a window and free books from book companies that want us to adopt their texts. Not bad.
I spent thirty years trying NOT to teach. I kept thinking that I could make more money doing something else--computing services, technical support, administrative assistant-type jobs. I almost always ended up teaching something. Desperation drove me back to academia. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me--right up there with being born and having my children.
My life lesson--money isn't everything. Teaching pays decently, but, if we work only for money, then any money we earn is tainted with dissatisfaction. I have to love my work first. Otherwise, it becomes drudgery. One thing I can say for sure is that teaching never gets dull, and, while it does have some tediousness (I don't really like to grade papers all of the time), it's one of the most creative and thought-provoking jobs in the world. I get paid to think; I get paid to have fun and share my love of English. Who could ask for more than that?
I don't know that any of my colleagues read this blog, but, if any of them do, I say "Thank you." Thank you for your support, thank you for your joy, thank you for being willing to share yourselves and your talents.
To my students--past, present, and future--thank you for making what I do so much fun. Thanks for your enthusiam, your struggles, your effort. Just thanks!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Eloise's Hat, a work in progress.
Finally, after many months, I've written a poem. I just wrote it this morning and it's undergone some changes, but I expect, with feedback from my writing friends, it will improve.
I wrote it in memory of a woman for whom my daughter was one of many caretakers the last few months. Eloise died of breast cancer, so this is for her and for all men and women who battle this disease.
Eloise’s Hat
04/13/08
I.
The clear sky chides me from my study.
Knee-high grass waves and laughs.
I must mow.
I have waited through cold and wind and rain.
The hulking mower stares
from the garage.
I delay. I dress. I stop
for water, grab the key,
pull on my grandmother’s boots,
find gloves
and Eloise’s hat.
I am ready.
II.
The lawnmower scares me,
all roar and wire and stuttering.
It could blow up.
It could stall out.
It could run out of gas.
It is like me.
III.
It is red and loud.
I would wear earplugs
but I would miss birdsong.
I would be out of touch.
I wouldn’t hear the ping
of pinecones spinning off the blades
or hear the rocks
smash against tree trunks.
The yard flashes past me
at three miles an hour
and I must watch
the tall grass fall.
III.
I take a drink of water, a long breath.
I push the mower into the yard,
slip the lever to neutral,
flip the park switch,
set the choke.
I am deliberate.
I turn the key.
It chugs alive after months of sleep.
I move the lever to forward,
move from choke to rabbit,
increase speed.
I drop the blades.
“Off with their heads,” I yell.
I’m off to murder the grass.
IV.
Here is what you see:
A fifty-ish woman
in her grandmother’s boots
scruffy clothes
and a broad-brimmed straw hat
strap firmly under chin.
Her gloved hands
grip the wheel
and give to its swerve.
She seems intent
watches the highs
and lows.
She doesn’t hurry
though she feels
the earth move past
without her consent.
V.
I ride and mow
and think of Flo.
Her boots go with me
to stake and weed and harvest.
They stand with me.
They kick stray logs
into the fire pit.
VI.
The hat stays on my head
despite the wind and speed.
My eyes shade clear.
I think of Eloise.
I did not know her.
I imagine she wore this hat
on days when, wheeled to her patio,
she watched my daughter
weed and plant
the gardens out of reach,
this hat keeping the sun
from her face, her head.
I think how seventeen years
with a husband is too short.
I think this is a glorious day.
I think that chemo and radiation
might dim even my view.
I don’t know.
I thank Eloise for the hat
and write poems to her as I ride.
She rides with me.
It is my gift to her.
VII.
The broken limbs and twigs
hump over the fire pit.
I strike a match
and thrust it to the heart of things.
The flames rise to low tree limbs.
I hose them down to moderate the burn.
I watch the mound flatten to coals
and think of the women
I would not become.
I am all of them.
Thanks for the poem, Eloise, and for the hat!
I wrote it in memory of a woman for whom my daughter was one of many caretakers the last few months. Eloise died of breast cancer, so this is for her and for all men and women who battle this disease.
Eloise’s Hat
04/13/08
I.
The clear sky chides me from my study.
Knee-high grass waves and laughs.
I must mow.
I have waited through cold and wind and rain.
The hulking mower stares
from the garage.
I delay. I dress. I stop
for water, grab the key,
pull on my grandmother’s boots,
find gloves
and Eloise’s hat.
I am ready.
II.
The lawnmower scares me,
all roar and wire and stuttering.
It could blow up.
It could stall out.
It could run out of gas.
It is like me.
III.
It is red and loud.
I would wear earplugs
but I would miss birdsong.
I would be out of touch.
I wouldn’t hear the ping
of pinecones spinning off the blades
or hear the rocks
smash against tree trunks.
The yard flashes past me
at three miles an hour
and I must watch
the tall grass fall.
III.
I take a drink of water, a long breath.
I push the mower into the yard,
slip the lever to neutral,
flip the park switch,
set the choke.
I am deliberate.
I turn the key.
It chugs alive after months of sleep.
I move the lever to forward,
move from choke to rabbit,
increase speed.
I drop the blades.
“Off with their heads,” I yell.
I’m off to murder the grass.
IV.
Here is what you see:
A fifty-ish woman
in her grandmother’s boots
scruffy clothes
and a broad-brimmed straw hat
strap firmly under chin.
Her gloved hands
grip the wheel
and give to its swerve.
She seems intent
watches the highs
and lows.
She doesn’t hurry
though she feels
the earth move past
without her consent.
V.
I ride and mow
and think of Flo.
Her boots go with me
to stake and weed and harvest.
They stand with me.
They kick stray logs
into the fire pit.
VI.
The hat stays on my head
despite the wind and speed.
My eyes shade clear.
I think of Eloise.
I did not know her.
I imagine she wore this hat
on days when, wheeled to her patio,
she watched my daughter
weed and plant
the gardens out of reach,
this hat keeping the sun
from her face, her head.
I think how seventeen years
with a husband is too short.
I think this is a glorious day.
I think that chemo and radiation
might dim even my view.
I don’t know.
I thank Eloise for the hat
and write poems to her as I ride.
She rides with me.
It is my gift to her.
VII.
The broken limbs and twigs
hump over the fire pit.
I strike a match
and thrust it to the heart of things.
The flames rise to low tree limbs.
I hose them down to moderate the burn.
I watch the mound flatten to coals
and think of the women
I would not become.
I am all of them.
Thanks for the poem, Eloise, and for the hat!
Saturday, April 12, 2008
First Mow of the Season...
Well, I cranked up the riding mower and took a ride around...and around...and around the yard today, but I'm not finished. I was afraid of running out of gas in the south forty, so I stopped when I got all of the high grass cut down. I still need to mow closer to the house, and, though I did a good job, I think, of picking up the sticks, the wind has been blowing constantly, shaking down a fresh crop of twigs that I need to gather for the burn pile. I plan to do that tomorrow morning, buy more gas for the mower, and finish the job.
I wore Eloise's hat today for yard work. It's a nice straw hat with an adjustable chin strap so it won't blow off while I'm working in the yard and riding the mower. Eloise died from breast cancer; my daughter was one of her care-givers to the end. Eloise gave Dorothy a bunch of hats; I asked for this one, and I felt guilty asking for it, but my daughter was generous and let me have it. So, the whole time I was mowing the grass today, I was writing poems to Eloise in my head. I need to write some of them down and send them to Dot. I feel lucky that I'm still healthy enough, in my fifties, to mow the grass, teach my classes, and generally make my way through the world. I should complain less. My life could be worse, really. And while that sounds cliched and stupid, it's true. I should remind myself, more often, to be grateful. And happy.
The semester is almost over. I will miss this current crop of students--they've been fun, interesting, and hard-working. And they don't complain much, really! Everything a teacher likes in students!
And I'm teaching summer school from home, so less driving! Hooray! I can reduce the big oil companies' profits by a tiny bit. Wouldn't it be great if more people could telecommute? We'd be able to reduce at least some of our dependence on oil. Of course, we still have to deal with heating and cooling the house, and a million other products that require petroleum. I wish I had enough money to convert my house to solar energy.
I'm going to make a conscious effort this summer to reduce the amount of gas I use. Except for a trip to Austin, I may only drive to visit my mother. I'll be a hermit! At least until the fall semester begins. Then I'll only be driving in two days a week and for meetings when I must.
Coffee's ready and I have papers to grade, or, as Robert Frost writes, "But I have promises to keep/And miles to go before I sleep." So, I'm off to the next task.
P. S. The peach tree I planted last year has peaches on it! But the plum trees I planted are just now leafing out--I haven't seen any blooms. Boo! That's not going to help the older plum trees that have already bloomed and leafed out. Probably no plums, unless the Victoriana sprouts some. I'll keep you posted.
I wore Eloise's hat today for yard work. It's a nice straw hat with an adjustable chin strap so it won't blow off while I'm working in the yard and riding the mower. Eloise died from breast cancer; my daughter was one of her care-givers to the end. Eloise gave Dorothy a bunch of hats; I asked for this one, and I felt guilty asking for it, but my daughter was generous and let me have it. So, the whole time I was mowing the grass today, I was writing poems to Eloise in my head. I need to write some of them down and send them to Dot. I feel lucky that I'm still healthy enough, in my fifties, to mow the grass, teach my classes, and generally make my way through the world. I should complain less. My life could be worse, really. And while that sounds cliched and stupid, it's true. I should remind myself, more often, to be grateful. And happy.
The semester is almost over. I will miss this current crop of students--they've been fun, interesting, and hard-working. And they don't complain much, really! Everything a teacher likes in students!
And I'm teaching summer school from home, so less driving! Hooray! I can reduce the big oil companies' profits by a tiny bit. Wouldn't it be great if more people could telecommute? We'd be able to reduce at least some of our dependence on oil. Of course, we still have to deal with heating and cooling the house, and a million other products that require petroleum. I wish I had enough money to convert my house to solar energy.
I'm going to make a conscious effort this summer to reduce the amount of gas I use. Except for a trip to Austin, I may only drive to visit my mother. I'll be a hermit! At least until the fall semester begins. Then I'll only be driving in two days a week and for meetings when I must.
Coffee's ready and I have papers to grade, or, as Robert Frost writes, "But I have promises to keep/And miles to go before I sleep." So, I'm off to the next task.
P. S. The peach tree I planted last year has peaches on it! But the plum trees I planted are just now leafing out--I haven't seen any blooms. Boo! That's not going to help the older plum trees that have already bloomed and leafed out. Probably no plums, unless the Victoriana sprouts some. I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Inserting a URL into my blog
I'm using this as a demo for a student at the moment.
And here's a URL inserted into my blog.
http://www.slate.com/id/2184933/
And here's a URL inserted into my blog.
http://www.slate.com/id/2184933/
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Home Again, Home Again...
I had a great time in Austin, but my stay there was too short! I mostly sat around watching my kids do things, ate too much great food (my daughter's an excellent cook), ran around town getting a first-hand look at how poor, creative people get what they need for less. My son traded a bicycle frame, parts, and tires for new tires for his own bike. I watched him pirate parts from that bike frame to spiff up his. He's creative and resourceful.
My kids have gardens all over their backyard. I like making a salad from greens picked straight from the garden, only getting what you need, and not having the extras turn brown and slimy in the fridge. My daughter and her boyfriend spent Saturday framing a shed for the washing machine that's in the backyard. Dorothy also rigged up an irrigation system from the washer's draining to water the plants with graywater. It's ingenious, made of pvc pipe and a soaker hose.
I went to Treasure City, a resale shop run totally by volunteers, for their Saturday Sidewalk Sale. Everything outside was 25 cents. We racked up on some good stuff. My son's girlfriend helped start the co-op, and she also works at Ecology Action in Austin. She's a contractor, and she and her roommates are renovating the house they just bought. She's an amazing person.
We also went to Tops, which is an office furniture resale warehouse. I found an excellent desk chair for $10! I'm sitting in it right now, and, I can tell you, it's more comfortable than the straight-back chair I've been using.
My cats missed me. I know this because they have been following me around the house since I got home. I hope they get used to me being here for a while. With gas prices the way they are, I don't think I'll be taking more trips soon, except for driving to and from school. But, when summer gets here, I'll be teaching online, so I won't have to leave the house. And, in the fall, I'll be teaching two online classes, so I'll only be going in two days a week. I'm looking forward to not driving so much.
But, I'm home, and life is good, until I have to pay my taxes!
My kids have gardens all over their backyard. I like making a salad from greens picked straight from the garden, only getting what you need, and not having the extras turn brown and slimy in the fridge. My daughter and her boyfriend spent Saturday framing a shed for the washing machine that's in the backyard. Dorothy also rigged up an irrigation system from the washer's draining to water the plants with graywater. It's ingenious, made of pvc pipe and a soaker hose.
I went to Treasure City, a resale shop run totally by volunteers, for their Saturday Sidewalk Sale. Everything outside was 25 cents. We racked up on some good stuff. My son's girlfriend helped start the co-op, and she also works at Ecology Action in Austin. She's a contractor, and she and her roommates are renovating the house they just bought. She's an amazing person.
We also went to Tops, which is an office furniture resale warehouse. I found an excellent desk chair for $10! I'm sitting in it right now, and, I can tell you, it's more comfortable than the straight-back chair I've been using.
My cats missed me. I know this because they have been following me around the house since I got home. I hope they get used to me being here for a while. With gas prices the way they are, I don't think I'll be taking more trips soon, except for driving to and from school. But, when summer gets here, I'll be teaching online, so I won't have to leave the house. And, in the fall, I'll be teaching two online classes, so I'll only be going in two days a week. I'm looking forward to not driving so much.
But, I'm home, and life is good, until I have to pay my taxes!
Friday, March 07, 2008
Signs of Spring, 2008
Well, about two weeks until Easter, and, of course, we had snow today. Didn't stick, thanks to the 70 degree weather we had earlier in the week!
And, thanks to that same weather, everything around me is blooming. My Mayhaw trees are busting out in white; Mr. Lester's peach trees are purpley-pink; the japonica, narcissus, jonquils and redbuds flaunt their colors all around. A purple haze hovers over plowed and unplowed fields. I'm hoping the freeze doesn't affect the fruit crops--mine or Mr. Lester's. I'm anxious to see if I get any plums from any of the four trees I have, and, of course, I'm hoping the peach tree I planted last year produces more than five peaches.
I need to get started on my garden, but I'm going to wait until after Easter this year. Last year, I planted on Easter weekend and spent the entire time covering and uncovering my plants because we had a late freeze.
I love spring. Next to fall, it's my favorite season. I enjoy my garden. It's about the only exercise I get these days.
This has been a difficult week. I'm behind in my grading, thanks to a number of factors, but I refuse to provide any excuses for falling behind.
We had a candidate on campus this week; we took her to dinner last night at Indigo, a new Indian restaurant. The food was great. I had to drive home in a freezing, pounding rain. I hydroplaned twice because of the buildup of water on the roads. I had to lower my speed considerably, so I didn't get home until 10pm. Then I was up at 6am this morning to go back into school (I usually am not on campus on Fridays) to sit in on a class the candidate taught. Then I had a meeting. I thought I'd take a nap when I got home, but I ended up working on one of my classes and downloading papers I need to grade. By tomorrow, I should have about four sets of papers to grade. Sigh! And we have another candidate coming in on Tuesday. That means a late night on Wednesday, with my usually early day on Thursday.
I'm so glad spring break is coming up. Austin, here I come!
And, thanks to that same weather, everything around me is blooming. My Mayhaw trees are busting out in white; Mr. Lester's peach trees are purpley-pink; the japonica, narcissus, jonquils and redbuds flaunt their colors all around. A purple haze hovers over plowed and unplowed fields. I'm hoping the freeze doesn't affect the fruit crops--mine or Mr. Lester's. I'm anxious to see if I get any plums from any of the four trees I have, and, of course, I'm hoping the peach tree I planted last year produces more than five peaches.
I need to get started on my garden, but I'm going to wait until after Easter this year. Last year, I planted on Easter weekend and spent the entire time covering and uncovering my plants because we had a late freeze.
I love spring. Next to fall, it's my favorite season. I enjoy my garden. It's about the only exercise I get these days.
This has been a difficult week. I'm behind in my grading, thanks to a number of factors, but I refuse to provide any excuses for falling behind.
We had a candidate on campus this week; we took her to dinner last night at Indigo, a new Indian restaurant. The food was great. I had to drive home in a freezing, pounding rain. I hydroplaned twice because of the buildup of water on the roads. I had to lower my speed considerably, so I didn't get home until 10pm. Then I was up at 6am this morning to go back into school (I usually am not on campus on Fridays) to sit in on a class the candidate taught. Then I had a meeting. I thought I'd take a nap when I got home, but I ended up working on one of my classes and downloading papers I need to grade. By tomorrow, I should have about four sets of papers to grade. Sigh! And we have another candidate coming in on Tuesday. That means a late night on Wednesday, with my usually early day on Thursday.
I'm so glad spring break is coming up. Austin, here I come!
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Always call the busy person...
I'm constantly amazed that, though I don't think I can find one more minute to do one more thing, I can and do "find time" to squeeze one more task into my already task-filled day.
Last night, I read/graded a set of essays, and was finished fairly early. I also read some assignments from my one "small" class (7 people) and thought, "Oh, I have time to work on my paper/someone else's thesis project/knitting/reading." But, then I did the wrong thing. I checked my email and discovered a frantic message from a friend asking me to edit/read her essay that is due Monday.
So, two hours later, I still had time to work on a few other projects, but I didn't get to them as early as I thought I would. I stayed up until nearly 3am this morning, squeezing in a few of the things I wanted to do--work on the one remaining sock of a pair, read some Jane Austen, work on my new online class I want to teach in the fall. I lost track of time, yes. And I woke up, initially, this morning at 7am and forced myself to go back to sleep. I got up around 9:30am and immediately began working. I need to stop this!
In the children's book series, A Series of Unfortunate Events, one of the characters, Violet, says that time is the one thing we can't invent more of. She is so right. So I guess what I'm trying to do is fill up the time as much as possible with everything I need/want to do. You know, "make the most of time."
Today, I've already graded Wikis, conducted an online chat, and mopped both the kitchen and the bathroom (long overdue!). Now, I'm going to take a bit of time to work on one of my projects--writing a paper--and then I'll grade a set of essays. I'm drowning in paper, so I need to clean out the stacks and add to the burn/recycle pile. I burn the junk mail, and recycle the rest. But, then again, I may not get to that, which is fine with me. I need to stop working every single minute of the day--smell the roses, you know?
Tomorrow... well, I'll deal with that when I get to it!
Last night, I read/graded a set of essays, and was finished fairly early. I also read some assignments from my one "small" class (7 people) and thought, "Oh, I have time to work on my paper/someone else's thesis project/knitting/reading." But, then I did the wrong thing. I checked my email and discovered a frantic message from a friend asking me to edit/read her essay that is due Monday.
So, two hours later, I still had time to work on a few other projects, but I didn't get to them as early as I thought I would. I stayed up until nearly 3am this morning, squeezing in a few of the things I wanted to do--work on the one remaining sock of a pair, read some Jane Austen, work on my new online class I want to teach in the fall. I lost track of time, yes. And I woke up, initially, this morning at 7am and forced myself to go back to sleep. I got up around 9:30am and immediately began working. I need to stop this!
In the children's book series, A Series of Unfortunate Events, one of the characters, Violet, says that time is the one thing we can't invent more of. She is so right. So I guess what I'm trying to do is fill up the time as much as possible with everything I need/want to do. You know, "make the most of time."
Today, I've already graded Wikis, conducted an online chat, and mopped both the kitchen and the bathroom (long overdue!). Now, I'm going to take a bit of time to work on one of my projects--writing a paper--and then I'll grade a set of essays. I'm drowning in paper, so I need to clean out the stacks and add to the burn/recycle pile. I burn the junk mail, and recycle the rest. But, then again, I may not get to that, which is fine with me. I need to stop working every single minute of the day--smell the roses, you know?
Tomorrow... well, I'll deal with that when I get to it!
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