Hobbes spent the night in the house last night- first time since spring. When I woke this morning, he was sitting quietly by, staring at me. I said "You need to go outside, don't you?" He gave that quick little reply thing he does and stood up. I'm sure at almost 8 in the morning he was wondering if I had died there.
I want to paint and write and sew and throw pots. But, alas, I am in the midst of an ongoing bathroom renovation. It's getting better though. I tell my painting students at one point in the process that everything you do from this point on is a major 'oooh-aaah'. That's how I'm feeling as I am tieing this renovation down.
The toilet was hooked up last night. It works well. Yay. Given the 'fun' we had on Saturday, I ran and got a couple of huge towells for the reveal!! Louis gave me one of those looks. It has a dual flush and a slow closing lid and rim. I told Louis that must be for the men. He gave me one of those looks. We flushed it quite a few times to see how much water difference was made between the full flush and the half flush. There is a little less water in the half flush, but Louis said the directions spoke of adjustable water. He didn't read that part yet.
We were so silly, flushing the toilet over and over, raising the seat over and over. The first time we raised the rim, it started lowering as soon as we pulled it up. Louis observed that he would have to learn to pee quickly. But then we got it trained to stay until we start it lowering. We had way to much fun playing with the new toilet.
I have started teaching an online group to paint. So far, I have one person who has actually begun. She is doing quite well. Sometimes student don't understand that when I say "That's good" I am seeing it through a knowledge of what will be done. The painters in my studio get it for the most part. If I say "Well we need to fix this before we go on" they know it wasn't so good. I'm never going to say "Wow, that stinks." I'm enjoying that alot and will enjoy it more once the tile, paint and woodwork is all in place.
Last night I made frozen yogurt. Louis said it needed some getting used to. I asked him what I needed to change. He said I didn't need to change it, it just needed getting used to. Actually, I really liked it. It was peach. I used extra cream and milk but no extra sugar. Next time I may try adding a little raw sugar.
The change of diet is going okay. About a week ago, I decided I had to eat better for strength. I've added dance aerobics to help strengthen my stamina while eating a little more substantial meals. Saturday night we went to a fish fry and I showed amazing self control -the guy can cook, yeah- but yesterday, my stomach was torn up. Fish is high on the recommended foods, but fried foods aren't. I've discovered that fried turkey pastrami is very tasty with eggs, baked potatoes or anything that I would normally use bacon for. It's not the same taste exactly, but its a very good taste and it smells wonderful cooking. Turkey sausage will work nicely for biscuits and gravy. I'm learning to enjoy eating again - slowly.
The coffee this morning was left over in the pump pot. I had to heat it, but it was okay. Left over coffee doesn't fill the house with aromatic wonder.
Yesterday it was 91degrees. It was in the lower 60s this morning when I woke. Wednesday, we have a chance for a freeze. Sheeze! The wood we cut in the spring will come in handy it seems.
Gotta hit it again. I hope your day is blessed. I'm sure mine will be. God is good.
We all unloaded from the vans we were driving and wandered into the Cliff House Restaurant at Mesa Verde National Park. It was a cold evening, but the building was warm and inviting. The evening crowd had not arrived yet and we went immediately to get our 16 people onto the call list.
We weren't dressed for the finery about us, but the leader of our travelling group requested the window seats and held his ground when the request was first ignored. Reluctantly, they complied while continuing to eye us contemptuously. The restaurant is known for its cuisine and atmosphere -and for its prices! One couple actually left our group. They wanted to shop a little and the expensive fare would short them. They had brought food along and as yet had not eaten any of it. We all bid them happy hunting and sadly watched them walk away.
My husband and I sat down at a small two person table overlooking a vast landscape that would normally be full of golden color but was quite bland because of a large forest fire in recent years. A huge fire roared in the fireplace across the room, which was good because the window was quite drafty.
Our waiter brought us a wine list. We ordered coffee and ice water with lemon. The wine list was wisked away in a huff. Shortly the waiter returned with two cups of coffee and an appetizer menu. We ordered a large salad two plates and two bowls of mushroom soup. Small loaves were complimentary. When the entre menu was presented, we denied it. The waiter was professional, but none too friendly. We were in the best seats in the house having the cheapest food we could order.
We complimented the food enthusiastically. It was by far the best mushroom soup I had eaten to that date. My husband who never really liked mushroom soup by itself, was impressed. It wasn't just acceptable, it was quite good. The salad was ample for two people and very nicely diverse.
Somewhere around the 4th or 5th coffee refill, the waiter decided not to hate us anymore. We even let her talk us into a shared dessert. The tab came to over $40. It was worth every cent.
That experience 5 years ago this month spurred me into a quest for a 'good' mushroom soup recipe. I tried two or three without much satisfaction. Some I could just read the ingredients and know it wasn't right. Then two years ago, I happened on a recipe I thought sounded promising. I'm proud to say it made good on the promise. I add some ingredients including a dash of Worchestershire and a small hot pepper diced.
As I sat down to the hearty bowl of mushrooms and barley tonight, I recalled, as I do each time I make it, that crisp October evening when we wandered into a fancy restaurant dressed in jeans and sweaters, tired and slightly unkept and sat down to one of the sweetest 'dining out' occasions in my mental scrapbook.
Five dollars. In those days, five dollars was a lot of money. I was a young mom. I married right after I turned 17 and had a baby right off. Life was not easy. For a little over a year, I had lived on hand me down everything, food often hunted, fished, or scavengered. I had lived in a house without plumbing, the water pump outside was contaminated. Wash water for dishes had to be boiled on the old stove with one defunct burner and a non working oven. The house had come 'furnished'. There was a table with a broken leg, three non matching chairs and an old couch with it's own ecosystem. The refrigerator didn't cool and the bed was a mattress over an old spring that set on blocks. It was the vacation spot for the inhabitants of the couch -or vice verse.
I discovered a natural spring a ways down the road and procured some 10 gallon milk cans. I had a path out back that led to an outdoor toilet without a door. But it was okay, because it faced a steep hill. The only real problem was the cows who were often curious about why I was out there. There were berries and nuts that could be gathered and squirrels and rabbits that I could hunt within a short distance of my 'house'. I found a little rogue garden that had some old potato plants and bitter carrots and found wild peas and onions. The stream ran through less than a mile away and I'd been taught to fish by one of the best. I was living the life of a pioneer woman and proud of it. My creativity was spent on existing from day to day in some kind of small pleasantry. It was enough.
A relative helped us sign up for commodities and we went once a month and got flour, sugar, beans, rice, powdered eggs, powdered milk, cheese and peanut butter. I learned to cook well with little. I used the meager earnings carefully. I sturdied up the table leg, sprayed the couch several times and all but set the mattress on fire getting rid of the fauna. I picked the cherries in the tree out back in spite of the curious cows that constantly plagued my existence. They were not our cows, but there were no fences. Sometimes I would pull out my old accordian -an heirloom that had belonged to my namesake aunt who died as a teen. The cows would gather about me as I sat on a large rock behind my house and played. They liked the music. It was a simple amusement, but it was enough.
We bought 50 culled chicks and put them on the front enclosed porch. I would raise them for eggs and eventually butcher and cook some. That was not my most successful venture to be sure. I had much more zeal than knowledge.
Eventually we moved into a real house with semi-indoor plumbing. We were given some hand me down furniture that didn't come with resident vermin. We bought simple furnishings to complete the necessities for living. We moved the remaining 7 chickens to town with us. I got a kitten. I had so many dresses made with an overabundance of fabric and so I tore some apart to make curtains and such. Life was a struggle still, but not as all-encompassing a struggle. I was able to bring my first daughter home to a life that may have provided me with some difficulty, but was warm and safe and had a little homespun charm.
Our next move took us into a sweet little house -very old but with lots of character and indoor plumbing. My amenities were nothing to brag about, but I was content and the pioneer in me made the best of the situation and looked for the funny in each day. Little by little I was making the house homey. My creativity and frugality worked together for baby steps in the decorating department. After a failed attempt at working in a processing plant -primarily because my daughter was subject to new germs and had a tendency for respiratory problems from an early birth- I began babysitting to bring in a little added funds.
I bought a second hand sewing machine cheap after making a couple of dresses for my daughter by hand from the material I took from the dresses of my past. This gave me a whole new outlet for the creativity that was now free to discover itself in clothing and household improvements.
We had a wine colored chair and a worn blue couch. They wouldn't have complimented each other had they been new, but in their threadbare state, they were functional, but not aesthetically pleasant. I didn't have a dress that could supply that much fabric, so I began saving and looking. The small town I lived in had a nice little home owned fabric store. There I spied a heavy piece of fabric in an off-white blue french print. I went home and calculated what it would take to make slipcovers for the couch and chair. The figure was more than I felt I could justify.
One day I went into the little shop and my fabric was gone. A little sad resolve took over as I began looking about for a replacement dream. There was a thinner fabric in the same color and a little less appealing print. While I was considering and calculating, the owner came up and struck up a conversation. She had seen me looking several times at the blue french print. I mentioned that I had been trying to save, but I just didn't have enough yet. She went to the back and brought out the bolt of fabric.
"This didn't sell, so I was going to take it home and use it to cover some dining chairs," she said with a smile. "I was going to take a loss on it. I'll sell it to you for five dollars."
My heart skipped a beat. Five dollars would buy many necessities. I had barely that much saved. I knew what an incredible deal she was offering, but was reluctant to loose the emotional comfort that having a savings provided.
Finally, stomach churning, I said. "Can I go home and get the money? I can be back in just a few minutes."
Five dollars was a lot of money to me in those days of ripping apart dresses for baby clothes and curtains. Today I don't remember if I suffered as a result of my splurge, and I don't really remember many of the furnishings and such that I had, but I can still see those crisp slipcovers and feel the excitement I felt when they were finally in place, transforming my worn, mismatched furniture into an acceptable ensemble.
I remember when that was the screen message for TV oopsies. Now my cable just says 'temporarily off air. try again later'. Seems like the first message had more connection, - 'we're having trouble, but don't go away, please,'- though the second is perhaps just as accurate and probably just as useful.
My life is crazy right now. I'm trying to process a lot mentally and emotionally. I am dealing with 'issues' of many kinds. Frankly I've run out of suggestions and I probably would rather gripe than hear more.
The worst part of any renovation is waiting on materials or looking for things you used or saw quite recently. I'm on my second hunt and about to reach a great patience testing wait. So my processing has been a little negative today.
I got started later than I pleased. I began hunting for a bit that I couldn't find yesterday afternoon, but had to have to continue. I considered just hitting Lowes and getting another, but I had the thing yesterday morning. I found it in a 'Goodgrief Donna' spot and finished putting in the framing for the last part of my screened in porch. Now I can't find the staples that I've moved a dozen times during this whole renovation stint -while looking for other things.
As I said, the bad mood hasn't helped my reasoning powers toward positive. I know all the pat answers, but I find that somethings don't really get better, you just endure them and hope someday things will get brighter, as the music says. Popping out little smart mouthed negatives is one way to deal with it. But that doesn't really win you much on the home front or in the arena.
Physically, I have my downs, but most of it is way up in comparison to the past year or so. I've lost 15 lbs. That in itself makes walking and climbing and general housework easier. I'm beginning to eat a variety of foods, but not much more quantity. I am watching for signs of disability very carefully, and keeping a fairly good journal of the things I eat.
So if I don't post much, you will know that the things my mind does while my body is busy are not really something you want to read about. I'm hoping to reclaim intelligent thought soon and begin my story telling in a different light. Till then, Please Stand By, . . . . .
