Fiddly

Doing the fiddly bits, now. Cleared the mass of weeds around the water shut-off valve. And intensive clearing near the edge, to give the thyme seeds purchase. Only wish I could have done a time-lapse of the process.

Getting colder this afternoon, good chance of rainsnow. Chickens are out. There are ducks, as well. I like watching them waddle and strut around.

Chandelier

This(look to the top) was the dining room light in my parent's house. It used to be height adjustable, but my brothers frequently jumped off their beds, in the room above, until they broke the mechanism. So the story goes. It had 150 watt bulbs, and made the dining room the best place to work when light, and a large flat surface, was required.

My aunt Alma bought a chandelier, with pseudo candles and dangling crystals, that I adored - except that the light was spotty, shadowy, and mostly lit the ceiling.

Not this, but this style.


The light in our dining room now is actually not bad, given it's origin. Wrong for the house, but largely inoffensive. We've broken it several times, it collects dust madly, and we keep the table right underneath it to avoid injuring ourselves on it.



Previous owners definitely had a designer infestation.

There are any number of fun, creative fixtures that probably do an awful job lighting a table.



However clever, not to live with, not for us.

The problem with a lot of chandeliers is that they were made for candles, adapted for gaslights, then electric bulbs, without being completely redesigned.







The idea of the candle is still there, with the light going up.

The one we ordered has a lens, and the light is directed down.

I think this is it, very like at any rate. Photo does not do it justice.

Lighting

Today,



Really doesn't take long for me to relax, two days off work, and the world is an easier place. Well, with my usual day off ahead of that, and a weekend to come.

We went to look for a light for the dining room. Those pronged halogen bulbs aren't going to last forever, they take a lot of energy, and we are not about to do a straight replacement when they blow. We found something, appropriate, and very functional. More than we'd hoped, but then, anything worth the trouble of installing runs about the same. We looked at a more traditional shop, it was hideosity en masse. There was one light I could have lived with. But it wasn't significantly cheaper.

So we went back to retrospect to look again. I spotted a very nice one that was smaller, without a price. We asked about it, and the owner tells me he just can't bring himself to sell it, a real vintage piece. I figure this means I have a good eye, if nothing else. Can't blame him, it had a presence. We look again at the one, among so many beauties, that struck me as most fitting. We consider some of the others, and decide we can swing it. As a permanent part of the house, it's not really that much. Owner gives us a small discount, which we appreciate very much.

And, well, hb.

Dug a bit more, just to get it looking more sorted. Then dug just enough to put down pease in the back. I'm just doing pease, with four roma tomato plants - they'll have to wait for May. The buckwheat and poppies can't go in until after last frost, and given it snowed a little on me today, I don't think we're there yet.

And found this,


Which seems to be from here, an Ohio pottery 1890-1929. Which makes sense, a lot of household goods made in Ohio were shipped west. As for how it wound up in the dirt of the verge, I suspect a moving mishap.



I'd found a few other bits of this white stoneware dish, but to find id is very cool.


Tomorrow, I'll put down the scarlet flax seed in front.

Thymebalm

After due research, I've ordered these.

Mintleaf Bee Balm (Monarda Fistulosa) - Grow Monarda Fistulosa seeds for this attractive and useful perennial plant. Also known as Wild Bergamot this perennial is an upright growing plant which spreads out. It has a lovely lavender blossom and distinctively aromatic foliage.

Creeping Thyme (Thymus Serpyllum Mother of Thyme) - Edge the borders of your herb, flower or vegetable garden with Mother of Thyme seed. It is low-growing and spreading, with spikes of lavender bloom clusters. Mother of Thyme blooms all summer long, and the foliage is an evergreen in most locations. Easy-to-grow from Creeping Thyme seeds, this creeping plant is also used between paving-stones or bricks in walk ways. It has a highly fragrant scent that rises up to greet you as you walk along a pathway of Mother of Thyme. It is a hardy perennial, handling summer heat and winter cold. Once it is established is can withstand periods of drought although moderate watering helps it perform its best. Butterflies and bees devour the Mother of Thyme herb blooms yet deer and rabbits seem to leave it alone.

Herhimnbryn sent, made, the most gorgeous card, which D insists (not that I objected) needs to be framed.
Correction "Glad you like it. I didn't make it though ( I wish)!

It's by a local-ish artist, I like her work and it can be found here....."





Read a few weeks ago about the Ash Wednesday Storm. I was always told I was born in a blizzard, my mother rather glad to be sitting in a hospital for the duration. Seems like my blizzard joined up to become the system to hit in the following week. Awesome.

Got some of the vanilla spumoni gelato to have with the gingerbread tomorrow, since I'm not fond of cake. Rather like christmas, we figure having sufficient food on one's b-day is important. That, not being at work, and not answering the phone make it exactly what I want. D is the only one I will accept fuss from.

Rainsnow

Knowing I really shouldn't dig more reinforced by snow.

This is good. Because I was so tempted to just do a little more.



So, we take the last few, long delayed steps to de-ikeah'ing the house. Got the new fixture earlier this week, and the LED bulbs. "Should we do the kitchen light today?" I asked as I turned on the light. One bulb did not come on, "We have a SIGN!" So, yes.





We can see! D is resting his arms now.


Just snowrain now, nothing much sticking except on dirt and lawns.

Why?

Why is Moby on the kitchen table?



On my hat?



Why is Eleanor behind the closed blind, when the other one is open?



Because, cats.

Contentment

Curb

And I did way too much. Cleared the curb of weeds to the half. Quite a job. Nearly three hours, not that I was counting, until I ran in to the bathroom. Cleared up and came in, somewhat reluctantly.



Found another marble, and the collection of broken glass adds up.



The first crocus is up, on the side where I first started digging the front garden. The allium and iris are sending up leaves, so they'll be along shortly.



And Moby has himself a sunbeam.

Intensity

I love the intensity in their faces. These kids are cool, and need never prove it otherwise.

Slept hard, until Eleanor walked up on me for a cuddle at the usual wake up time. Sore and raw, but knowing I have the time to rest and find my own pace. Going out to dig in an hour or so.

Thinking about passwords as I woke. Thanks to friends who have worked internet security, I have a pretty good method for generating strong passwords. Lemme 'splain.

Pick a phrase, not a word. Preferably with an implied or explicit number. '99 red balloons go by' comes to mind. And be willing to punctuate or hit shift.

So, 99Rbgb is probably a little short. Try 99Rbgb((. The ( is simply 9 on shift. Or add your own favorite number - 42$@. ((Rbgb99$@. As long as you remember the phrase, you have a good chance of reproducing the password. A poem, line from a song, famous line. The Quick brown fox, now is the time for all good men, to be or not to be, whatever you know you will remember. Tying it tangentially to the password purpose can help, but it needs to be "wordplay" tied, a crossword clue turned sideways out the corner. Add a comma, a colon, a plus. ,:+? Emoticons mixed in like a wink and a smile, or a sneer and a frown. It just has to be creative, and specific to you.

The other advantage of this sort of password is that you can write it down, in code. ((rBGB9942 won't get someone trying to use it anywhere, but you will know what it means. Anyone might guess my password as 'Eleanor' or 'Moby99' if I write down "cat's name." But, Ewisbf? (Enigma wrapped in soft black fur.) Not so much.


I have several up my sleeve for the next time I have to change mine in the suremed, there is no warning - and it's always when I have to get a drug in a hurry. "You can't have any drugs until you change your password." At least those are short, and don't need capitals or numbers. I make them as easy to key in as possible. Used 'plummy' for a while, kept my left hand free to hold the bupivacaine I thought they'd want while I get them the lidocaine they asked for suddenly.

I only have two work passwords at the moment, thankfully. One for the med machine, one for all my charting. The charting one hasn't changed for a long time, and this worries me a bit. So much need for confidentiality, so many opportunities for scammers to swipe sensitive information, I may just go change mine out of sheer paranoia.

I am a professional paranoid, do not try this at home.

Pin

The rest of the week off, not answering the phone. Just in time. When I've about had it with the people I'm paid to be around. Another side effect of February, I suspect. Everyone getting on everyone else's nerves. Manager being her usual exacerbating self.

But I have a stout in hand. Intended to make it to the official day, but with D's consent (since I made the promise to both of us) we agreed to call it today. Close enough. No beer since end of November. Illuminating, reassuring, and sufficient. Reined in, and properly assessed. And I really needed to rinse away the accumulated mood. That'll do.



I'm of two minds. Maybe I need to get offline for the week, maybe I need to only write and read your blogs. Something different, so I disrupt the habits. Consider and ponder, assess and understand. If you don't hear more, you will know what I decided.

We shall see, not feeling like pinning anything anywhere.

Opulence

Yes, I did a bit more on the weedy verge, ten more gallons out. Up to a total of 65. But nearer the curb, the excess had accumulated in a heap, and the weeds were thicker, the ground harder, so I made a lot less progress. Getting tired, I had to stop. I so want to get to a good point, to allow some sense of finishing.

Found another ring.



Larger, but not as pretty. Hard rubber O ring, with numbers - mostly illegible.

Wicked and bitter winds all day, of the just around freezing rather than the brutal sub-zero, off the ocean sort. This wind has it's own special misery. I wore the new, soft, purple scarf when we went out, on the spur of the moment - give it a whirl. Was I glad to have it, wrapping it up over my ears, my ball-cap brim sticking out.

Wish I could take the whole next week off, but just the two days will help. Especially since there are conferences in March, and the schedule at work thins out to a trickle some days. Can't use all my pto on vacation right before a slow stretch.

Soured

I realized yesterday, late in the day, after that asshat comment, that it was my father's birthday. He would have been 92. And I realized that I am at peace with him. Not happy, but resigned and sad, rather than angry or even resentful. He would not have spread his malice to neighbors nor strangers, he would have made the lame, corny, but encouraging joke. He simply should never have been anyone's father, it pressed him too hard, stripped away his fragile emotional defenses, taxed his meager intellect. He would have been a hard and steady worker, a helpful neighbor, even - by the standards of his day, an adequate husband. As a father, he was a one armed paper hanger with a bad attitude.

My mother is the one, though, to paper over, call everything 'love' and keep the peace. Peace at any price. Mollify the abusers, don't let them see they bother her (meaning me), forget unpleasantness done to others, or by her. Perhaps if I hadn't heard all her complaints, her petty gossip, even of those she most claimed to love, her anger at her husband, and then been recipient of the same behavior from her, and denying me any complaint against my father, I could let her in. Instead, I know not to trust her sweet words, for the bitter ones are right beneath. An unexamined and unacknowledged resentment of everyone around her.

We met with a local renovation company, a free consult, to see if doing work on the shabby back porch is possible, and how much we'd have to budget for. (This is years off, if ever, fyi. Still, gotta dream.) The woman there rolled over my ideas, telling me I didn't want it to be "weird." (Actually, I do.) That I had to consider "resale value." (Um, after I'm dead, I really don't care if a realtor has trouble selling the house because of a mild oddity.) She used words like "master bedroom" and "en suite" and lots of "cute" - oh, and getting "a cheap sink from Ikeah!" (blegh) ignoring my emphasis on practical, functional and that I trust my own taste in color and 'finishes.' We garnered good information, but it was so covered in frills and bows, and I felt so discounted. As my mother discounted my taste and preferences, mocking my solutions to problems with you should know betters.

The weird idea? A laundry/bathroom, with plants, lots of light in the morning. Weird because the entry is through the spare bedroom. (Spare bathroom through the spare bedroom is bad?) She's obviously never toured the variety of apartments in Boston, or of the lower rent variety. Toilet, utility sink, washer/dryer up from the basement, and one day (pleaseplease) an ofuro tub. Glass brick (or acrylic brick) wall. She especially thought that was a terrible idea, the glass brick. When we got home, D pulled up a program to diagram this. We will need a contractor, structural engineer, plumbing, electrical, heating. If we ever manage to save enough for this, we have a sort of plan.

She kept adding a vanity, and a partition around the toilet. Why a partition when the whole space is a bathroom? Just because there is a washer and dryer in there as well? I didn't ask for a vanity at all. I want this kind of simple and practical.



And this, one day.



And a cheaper version of this.



And elevating these.



But probably something better than this.




If not quite this.



Yup, all very white. But with hanging plants and golden morning light, a space that needs no further decoration.

Too cold to dig today, most likely. Nicely nippy, with winds, so I have to clean indoors.

Dug

SNOW! Ok, not much, but we are very glad of anything at all.

Later, I got out and dug. Up to 55 gallons of weeds out.



Which was little too much, but D was sympathetic. He got himself a sandwich for lunch, after checking with me. I told him, "I'm not hungry, I'm having fun, and I don't want to stop." He nodded, and let me to it. The child in me is grateful, the one who was never allowed to keep playing if an adult decided it was time.

Most people going by say a simple 'hi', or exclaim at the amount of work. Young men occasionally ask if I want any help. Some joke I need come do their garden when I'm done. All are meant to be friendly, and however trite the humor, it's good natured and encouraging.

Until the asshole who manages the apartment at the corner. The one who called the cops on the backyard concert before sunset, who told me off for once stepping foot in the open parking lot for the apartment - six months before. Since then, I have avoided seeing him even when he's in front of me. Today he says "You know, that is CITY property."

I respond with a grunted "uh huh."

He walks off muttering a mocking "uh huh" at me.

Let him call the cops, see how far he gets. The city doesn't care about people taking care of the verge, even raised beds are allowed. Checked the city site, there is nothing about not tending the verge. I really tried not to let his malice spoil my joy, but he did manage to sour it a little.

I found a tiny ring with three dull stones.

Cheap

Second Wednesday in a row I wound up at work. They requested I switch my shift because today only had three cases, and I was needed to cover Wednesday instead because Cow-orker reinjured her knee.

Today, woke feeling ill, not sick, but worn, achy, head buzzing, sinuses unhappy, hormonal and cranky. Part of me wanting to get out and dig, but the rest of me vetoing the idea strongly. Took a hot bath with epsom salts, read the Imogen Quy book D brought home from the library, hunkered. I do this, sometimes. Needing recharge. It's a known February state of mind. Not actual physical ailment, but a need to go soft and still.

We went out later to shop for groceries. Little exchange with the checker about the price of a tomato. I said I figured the price of produce was random, and since we were going to buy it anyway, why quibble? He laughed, I shrugged.

It's true, though, I don't worry much about the price of food. We get good stuff, with just the two of us, we focus on what will get eaten. We try not to buy more than we will use, try not to waste. I work with some women who have professional husbands, so two good incomes, they talk about vacations I would never consider affordable, house renovations, they have two cars, attend concerts regularly. And when I bring in a $6 meal from Trader Joe's, they are aghast I spend so much on one meal, when I could get a massive amount of food from Wincostcomart for just a little more. I nod and keep eating.

We reckon food as a price per amount-actually-eaten expense.

My mother bought cheap food. I understand where she was coming from, she didn't get milk very often as a kid, they ate bread with shortening and brown sugar on top as a treat. While not starving as a child, it was a matter of barely enough, and she clearly did not have great nutrition. So she made sure we were "filled up", usually with flour and sugar, desserts. Plain solid food, chicken, hamburger, tinned salmon patties on Friday, with potatoes and canned corn. Fresh vegetables and fruits were a rarity - too expensive. She knew to the penny what groceries cost, and disparaged (only in my hearing) how much Aunt Alma & Uncle Milton spent on food. More than she did to feed five! And don't even get her going on how much restaurants cost.

I still struggle to eat enough fresh fruits and vegetables, not wanting to waste any, I often buy less than I should, and would like to, eat. Frozen produce helps. And it's not like we are buying luxury food, no caviar nor exotic gold covered chocolate, no truffles nor huge thick steaks. Just, better raw materials. Not the cheapest, although often the simplest. I don't know if we do it particularly well, but we do it consciously.

Gold

Golden afternoon,
soothing, softening edges
until tightness sighs.

Lists

Many, many errands this morning, since we both have the holiday off. Everything but government institutions and banks are open, so we got stuff done. Ate at a Chinese restaurant that serves mild, but reliable food. We'd not gone there for a long time, passing near today we both wanted their soup. Found it the same as always, nothing notable, but good. Surprizing thing, we made a list, and got everything done. Shocking.



Moby rather noir.


Only dug once today, but I'm up to 40 gallons now. I measure it this way, as I stop when I fill my 5 gallon bucket (well tamped down) and go rest for a while. A way to pace myself. Got it squared around. I'd like to clear to the curb, but if I only get this far, it's a fair season's work.

Freshly

Further progress, at 35 gallons of weeds out, four marbles found, water meter uncovered, cat got to piss in freshly turned dirt twice, and sit on the water meter cover. Frame for newer raised bed roughly screwed together.

Still dry, still warm, still somewhat envious of my cousin's snow nightmare in northeastern MA. I'd gladly take half, even 75%, if there were any way to do it. As would the skiers here.



When both cats sit in the kitchen and stare at me, I know what is needed. Gooshy foods.



A different cat on a glass ceiling.



And a cartoon.