The new normal and oh well..

I'm very glad I went to the Preserve in Sunday. As of yesterday it's closed till further notice. As are all parks. The Preserve and the dogpark have gates, but I can't see how the others can be closed, since they're open on all sides.

 Sooooo, I will walk in the development. We have trees and grass, so it's not exactly a hardship. And the closing measures make loads of sense, given that we have an increasing virus caseload and several deaths in the state.

Target is now allowing an hour a week for seniors and disabled people only, yay. So I can get a couple of food items there next Wednesday, early. And since it's a minute from where I need to go to get the second shingles shot, I can do a quick round trip.

Bwaaaaahaaahaaa, scared you..

Wearing my vinyl gloves, another new normal, so as not to be too concerned about touching things. These are the kind you use for printmaking, not fitted, because you need to slip your hands out at some points in the process so as to handle the paper without smudging the margins. But they're probably better than nothing. And yes I plan to wash them, on my hands, to lose any  critters they might bring home.

Yesterday continued my education on Where Things Are in the new Honda Fit. Raining, and I needed some fresh produce from the local Asian store.

 Couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get the wipers working. Except the rear one. So after much pulling and pressing, I switched everything off, and checked YouTube on my phone. And got the answers. Cool. I just was falling down laughing about my latest ineptitude.

And I have an everything old is new again report:

You remember old TV's with tiny screens and a magnifying glass installed to make the picture visible across the room? I don't but I've seen pictures. Here's the updated model:

I've got access to Kanopy thanks to clever local library, an Aladdin's cave of movies, lectures, all kinds of video.

 But I can access it best on my phone. Small phone, smaller viewing area, smallest movie screen, like an animated postage stamp.

Enter my whole page 3x magnifier, with lights. I got it recently because of books only available in small print, but it's earning its keep.

Last evening I used it to watch The Lavender Hill Mob, Alec Guinness, Stanley Holloway, Sid James, Alfie Bass, all the usual suspects. And it's still as funny as ever. Laughing out loud for the first time in a while. In fact I think I'll seek out other movies for an Alec Guinness Personal Festival.

I did this a while back with The Forsyte Saga, so long, it was like a part-time job. Libraries all closed now, so no access to DVDs. Streaming is a blessing. And movies at home come with a cup of tea and a little something.

I did wear the green yesterday for the benefit of internet friends, and forgot to shove the picture in here, for better or worse, looking a bit dorky, but who's counting

Plain, very plain, and just plain exciting

Yesterday turned out to be plain. I did cut the terrycloth for future towels, you'll notice that the spare room bed, last week my diy workbench, is now my cutting surface

And hemmed a hand towel now in use in the bathroom.

 The one it replaces will go down the animal kingdom as a floor cloth.

 So I now have a stack of plain sewing to attend, in uncreative moods.

And then I moved outside to sort the outdoor storage closet next to the front door.  Found myself in a shouted convo with several neighbors doing distance chatting, while I sorted. Not much to discard, it turns out to my surprise, but a couple of handy discoveries.

The reason I can't just toss or donate garden tools, which is most of what's there, is that I keep them for any neighbor to borrow and return. Bulb planters, dibblers, trowels,  spades, bamboo canes, sisal string, clippers, all that.

 So there's a fair bit of rummaging when people are looking for a tool, and I sometimes have to sort it. It's generally understood that there's no need to ask, just borrow, then return clean when you finish. It saves people from buying their own, no point. But people don't always remember where the tool was and stuff gets mixed up.

Not in the mood for walking yesterday, so I did Eight Pieces of Silk, chi gong exercises, which I haven't done for a while. I have an ancient videocassette of Renee Ryan teaching a class, outdoors, grass, trees, a little wind.

It's a great series, with stretching, firing imaginary arrows, punching, all very interesting,while she explains the point of each one.  You can find various versions on YouTube if you like the idea. I find that I'm calmer, and the day after, much less creaky when I get up.

 I also often do one of the exercises while I'm waiting for the microwave. Or a yoga move like Tree Pose. My kitchen window faces the street and I've often wondered what passing neighbors think of these moves.  I have Indian and Chinese neighbors who are probably familiar with them and shake their heads over my poor form.

It was good that I did calming stuff because in the evening my son who lives two minutes away, messaged to say he might call out of work today, a cold, maybe a fever, but he had no thermometer. He'd been unable to buy one. Out of stock.

Since he works in a supermarket that's been mobbed recently,  the fever was a sudden cause of alarm, so I went through my bathroom storage in search of a backup thermometer. I found one, the old fashioned kind with the mercury column you have to shake down, and peer at to read.

So, I said don't go away, I'll bring it to you. This involved my first trip in the dark in the new car, trying to find the headlight switch, all that. Got halfway there and realized I'd left the thermometer on the counter.  Back again, out again. Nervous, me? Nooooo, I do calming exercises..

Then I didn't want to go in his apartment, handed him the therm. and waited on the landing looking through the storm door while he took his temp. He couldn't fathom how to angle the therm to read it, so I threw caution to the winds, took it, showed him, read it, normal, no fever after all, then explained how to shake it down.

 And had to do it for him, since  he couldn't master the whipping wrist action. Just flailing it about vigorously doesn't work. Nowadays even doctors don't always know, what with high tech thermometers that read it to you in several languages and offer you a cup of tea while they're at it. Then I came home and scrubbed up like a surgeon.

So no fever, no dry cough, and he's fully equipped with cold remedies. If he's home today, he can probably do some work on his second job, a high tech one done remotely, using the equipment he has.

 This was his full time  work until the recess closed the company he worked for, and one of the partners retained him to work part time in a new project he'd started from the ashes. No chance of a return to full time in high tech, no matter how skilled, for a 50 something.

 So he,  philosophical as ever, after years of searching and temping, cut his losses, got hourly work in the supermarket. It's a union job. I think it's the Brotherhood of Meatcutters, or something.  And, true to form, never a word of complaint, just puts his head down and gets on with it.

So that's where we are.  Hoping for the best. As always.

Preserve and preserves

Yesterday I went to the Preserve, local small wilderness area, partly desperate for change of scene, partly to conquer nerves at driving new car. Once I started I was fine, really liking the new car. After I remembered how to start it.

And found that a lot of people had the same idea. The normally deserted parking lot, me, park ranger, maybe one other birder, was jammed. Trails mobbed. Had to wait to get a people-free view of the lake!

 Mostly newcomers worrying about getting lost, shouting to each other about where to see birds, funny ,but they had the right idea. I had a brief glimpse of a resident bluebird before a shout sent her flying away.

Last time it was like that was the day after 9.11. Many local commuters never came home. Parking lot at the train station packed with cars which were eventually towed. People reassuring each other by coming to the preserve for peace. The incineration smell from the Towers was still drifting over.  We're less than  an hour, as the crow flies, from Manhattan.

It was lovely to be there, it's been a while since I had enough energy. I don't do the whole trail as I used to, since I may run out of juice a bit soon, but love to walk there. Usually, if you see anyone, it's kindred spirits wearing binoculars, pointing out interesting sightings, casually, not bothering each other.

The virgin beech wood generates its own climate, warmer in winter, cooler in summer.

And on the edge, milkweed for monarch butterflies.

The lake was a quarry, extremely deep, shelving, with many species of fish, and it's running water, so it's self cleaning. A lot of migrating waterbirds rest here a few days each year.  Overhead the newly restored bald eagles, sometimes an osprey, always turkey vultures and redtail hawks.

Peaceful meadow.

This morning, breakfast with cherry and berry preserves, very Belgian, Poirot would approve. He didn't like marmalade. I learned to like cherry jam at breakfast when I was working in France as an au pair.

 And not speaking a word of English for all the months I was there, bringing my fluency up to the point where, on the homeward journey,  Customs insisted I should be in the non-citizen line, until I waved my passport, and we all switched to English.

It served me well in my uni program, where everything happened in French, massive reading requirements, lectures, and, as a competitive program, students from much better preparation than I were together in class. I stayed nicely above water.

But back to the cherry berry preserves. I made it that day I did all the cooking, and it turned out a bit runny like fruit sauce. I saved some for Easter since I like fruit sauce with ham, while Handsome Son stoutly sticks with his manly mustard, Coleman's.

Then after waiting overnight, long enough to know it wasn't going to jell, I poured it back in the pan, with cornstarch, and reboiled it. It's now a passable jam like food. The flavor's lovely, just the texture needed work. It's the first time I tried that. Also the first time my jam didn't jell. So all is not lost if that happens.

Just thinking what to do today. Plain or fancy. Or both. I could be making new towels from the terry fabric I have for the purpose, to replace the thin and ragged ones I keep using. Hand stitching. Plain.Or I could be doing a bit of that silk piecing that's been waiting. Fancy. Or sort the outside storage, continuing the downsizing. Very Plain. Or spin some paper. Fancy.

I'll have another cup of tea and decide.

Survivors and a newcomer

Here are the March flowers still hanging in, joined by a daffodil the wind knocked down.

 They're getting along well. On the mantelpiece in a Chinese porcelain vase. East meets West.

Clara Parkes from The daily respite

Just Google on her, sign up for her daily email for a bit of good cheer. Sometimes a lovely pic, sometimes a bit of video, it's good.

 Today it's brilliant tap dancers I'd never heard of : the Nicholas brothers, and Dormeshia. Great start to the day.

And my own contribution, my cherry bushes bustin' out all over. I may get fruit. If we don't have a late frost. Or I get ahead of the birds and squirrels. I'll show you my harvest if there is one. It usually fits on a small saucer.

Cheering thing, and, drumroll...the census

Since we're all so anxious and nervous, I think I'll try to post something nice to look at when I blog.

So here's today's offering

My little primula which wasn't supposed to be a houseplant, but bloomed for months indoors,  came through the winter on the windowsill, needed repotting and is now starting to strut her stuff. It's as close as I can get to my favorite wild primroses.

And the Census form arrived, after all the fighting in Washington to put inappropriate questions in, defeated in court yay.

This isn't the form, but the preamble. You can do it online. If you can't, they'll send a paper one. I just hope their website's secure.

And I love this. Two sides, small print, to fit instructions in all the possible languages in our lovely mosaic.

Tomorrow when I'm not up to my bippy in cooking, I'll do it.

Today, in what everyone now says is an abundance of caution, so tired of that phrase, I'm cooking ahead in case I get sick.

  Bread, the whole wheat oat sunflower seed  kind, banana bread with golden raisins, soup of black beans, pink beans, tomatoes, chicken broth. All simple food for the freezer in case I'm not up to cooking. After tea, I'm making berry jam, because a slice of bread and jam can do a sick person a power of good. No pictures, you've seen my food before.

Then I'm reading a Blanche White mystery. Barbara Neely just died, hadn't known her, and wish I had.

 Great mysteries, social commentary, activism, colorism in the black community,  all told in the exploits of cleaning lady Blanche.  Highly recommended.  Woman can not live by soup and bread and banana bread and jam and anxiety alone.

Speaking of alone, I already seem to follow the protocols of social distancing as a matter of course. I have no problem with being alone a lot, just as well. Lovely neighbors. No big groups, no travel other than local in my car. My knitting groups are now closed till mid April. That's a bit of a blow, but some of the friends there read in here, so we're not totally cut off.  So I guess I'm already socially conscious.

Our schools are going virtual next week, and all township programs closed.  The great news is that the water co and all the utilities will not cut anyone off, a great fear when people's jobs are threatened. In fact they've undertaken to reconnect people already cut off.

 The state is supporting free testing if ever we get any, and one hospital system has started the rapid response testing.  All in all, a pretty civilized response. Very few cases yet, but it's all about flattening the curve.

So I'm doing my bit. And planning on buying shares in hand cream mfg..

Living in interesting times

Action packed. Sunday was the little visitor, who turned out to be the high point. Tuesday I thought I saw a little damp patch under my 1999 Honda Civic. I gassed it up, went to knitting group, noticed a bigger patch when I left, but was distracted by a call and texts from next door.

The lady of the house's mother, in her 90s, had a house fire, Sunday,smoke  damage, windows broken. She lives in New York, lady of the house went right away to bring her back here. Four hour round trip.

Friend Gary, man of the house, took one grandchild shopping for mattress and bedding for old lady. That's how come I had my little visitor, the other grandchild, too young to be in the house alone.

But, sadly, the old lady died Tuesday morning. Hence the calls and texts. Mixture of stress and existing issues. The only glimmer of light is that she was with her daughter. Daughter and I talked this morning, and she said yes, good she'd brought her.

Overnight my Honda started peeing much more, couldn't tell what, gas, tranny fluid, oil, water, couldn't guess. So I set up a service date for earliest -- Friday --and about five minutes later decided the heck with repairs, it was time to move on to a new car.

 Went online, found a couple of likely cars right on the lot at the dealership, pre-owned like all my cars. Checked consumer reports, driving reviews, then made arrangements to go in this morning and just do it. I dread buying cars, but the Honda folks are nice guys, don't say stupid womeny stuff, answer questions, don't witter on about color etc.

So I got together all the dox, decided what I'd deposit, gosh I was prepared. Even emptied out the car, which was unfortunately loaded with heavy stuff for the thriftie.

 And, two hours later, I was tootling home in my 2018 Honda Fit. Lovely hatchback! Made in this century!

 What a relief to be done with the old Civic, which served me well for 20 years, doesn't owe me anything, but was starting to get frail and geriatric. To her credit, even today, her last day, she started as always, first turn of the key.

My neighbor Gary has been texting about whether I need supplies, etc. while he's stocking up. He's ready for the siege of Leningrad, from the sound of things. Texting whether he can freeze carrots, vital stuff like that. Probably displacement activity from the last couple of days. He likes to be in action. Lady of the house, much calmer person says he's beside himself with virus anxiety, too. So I think he's coping by shopping.

And I hope we can all cope. My savings, like everyone, have been badly hit by the plunging stock market. And I don't have the luxury of time to wait for it to recover, unlike the crash in the eighties.

So I'm getting birdsong videos on YouTube, and Paul Barton playing virtuoso piano for the elephants on a reserve in Asia, and Kate Jackson puttering about her garden. It's good to remember there's still a lot of wonder to enjoy.

And I hope all my readers keep well, and keep active, and keep creating stuff.

Leftovers

Or planovers, as those ladies' magazines used to say. I wonder if theirs were as haphazard as those chez Boud.

I had been fancying making Italian Wedding Soup, which I kept thinking was Wedding Ring Soup, since my neighbor brought me some fresh off the stove a while ago.

It needs meatballs, so I noticed some hot turkey sausage when I was out for food yesterday. Fine.

Then the weather turned really warm, windows open, so I still doggedly made the meatballs, if not for soup.

Used up the last of the cooked brown rice, the last egg in the carton, and the last breadcrumbs in the box.  I didn't add any seasoning, the sausage being hot and the breadcrumbs seasoned. Just as well, when I came to taste one. Plenty seasoned. Not quick, the fire extinguisher hot, but close.

And I had a nice playtime making meatballs and arranging them on the baking sheet. 23. Why doesn't it ever come out like the round number the magazine cooks claim they get? I had spritzed the sheet with olive oil, then did same to the meatballs. Turkey isn't fat like beef, so it needs extra.

400f for, hm, I checked several times before declaring them done, possibly 20 minutes. Shook them about a time or two to brown evenly.

Then steamed the last of the frozen peas and corn, winter go to, been using these since November. Since they come in plastic bags, washed the bags for future freezing, pinned them to drain over the paper recycle.

 At this point my freezer is full of misleading items. That is not milk powder, it's bread. No, not frozen berries, asparagus. I try to be on top of labeling, but you know how it is. Some of the yogurt cartons are soup, some natural dyes. Those are labeled though.

And here's today's lunch. Glass of lemonade left from yesterday's visit. Similar plate in fridge for tomorrow, bag o' meatballs to go into the freezer in case I ever make that soup. Or do spag and mb for visiting son. Or meatball sandwiches for moi.

And the peas are used up before they're in fresh at the farm. But first there will be asparagus. Ahead of which I need to use up the supply from last year.  Work, work, work..

Speaking of food and work, the current coronavirus crisis is likely to cause serious hardship among people who can't just stay home, or work remotely, or whose I kids need the subsidized school meals which won't happen if schools close.

 So it's a nice idea to pop a check in the mail to your local food bank. $$ is more useful than food items, because they know the current needs. And it's also toiletries.

 Most of our local recipients are working but still need help. And they need to be presentable for work, but don't have the money for vital personal needs.   When in doubt, ask the food bank people, they're the experts.

Just a thought.

The herald daffodil came out this morning, and a young visitor

Here's the faithful daffodil that always blooms first every year.

And the squirrels uprooted the Autumn Joy sedum, so I trimmed off last year's foliage and replanted because the new rosettes are under way.

 Sedum is such a worker of a plant. Something happening in every season.

Then a  young friend stopped in and we made lemonade and brought out banana bread, and he instructed me on  his basketball strategies.

 Seriously good thinker. I think he's eight now. Off the charts smart. He ran the conversation. Things like: what would the world be like if nobody had taste buds.  Followed by a simulation of eating with and without a sense of taste.

 You really have to be alert to keep up with his ideas. Quicksilver ideas. I may need to rest now.

Food Friday third try

Blogger froze, shut down and lost the other tries.

So here we are. Not much food around so I mixed a batch of bread, set it to rise and forgot all about it while I did paper weaving finishing,

 see https://beautifulmetaphor.blogspot.com, at least see in a while, after I write the post. I listened to a chapter of Braiding  Sweetgrass while I worked. She's the best studio companion, almost as good as a cat.

Then I needed lunch so used up yesterday's roast potatoes, broke an egg over and called it lunch.

 Fast food

Finally noticed the nicely risen bread I'd forgotten,  but couldn't bake it, off out to knitting group and shop. Wonderful afternoon as always, then home for cornbread and a pot of tea. And a catch-up on social media.

At last got the bread into the oven, but what to eat for supper? The cupboard a bit bare but a can of peaches waiting to be curried. Heaving a sigh, I thought fine, I'll do that. Jasmine brown rice, good.

Then found I had used up the Bill Veach Curry Powder 2. Dang. No help for it, I made a new batch.

You see the cast of characters waiting their turn, and the Bill Veach book of curries in the background.

I don't measure much, just estimate, and I guessed pretty well how much this would make-- one filled coffee grinder, which filled the little glass container.

A bit of luck entered into it, too. You don't want to make too much at a time, because fresh ground is wonderful.

The smells as you make this are just so filling to your senses, particularly when there's nostalgia for learning this as a newlywed. You can hardly go wrong, really.

And if you make it yourself you get the best mixture, not just overwhelming cumin, turmeric and pepper.

They're all in there, but so are cinnamon, cloves, coriander, mustard seeds, ginger, black pepper, cayenne. So each taste is a different combination from the last.

So I thought just  peaches, drained and rinsed,  no need to worry about not having chicken or fish, for once.

Here's the base, onions and salt and a heaping tisp of curry powder sizzling gently in olive oil and butter.

 Not clarified butter, I used to clarify butter for curries, but I didn't have any today. Haven't done it for a long time. My  Indian friends think I'm nuts, because nowadays you can buy it ready clarified. But I like doing basics. Peaches here into the mix

And the little wells appearing in the rice to tell you it's nearly there.

And here we go

It was really good. I think I can add a touch of chili powder to the mix, too. It was very good and can still afford to go up a notch.


Did I mention that the bread was baking all this time? I had time to eat my curry before it needed to come out.

Today it's whole wheat, a bit of white, a lot of oatmeal, and a shake of sunflower seeds.

I guess today was busier than planned. Now there's food in the house. Except I need cheese, urgently.  No, not tonight..

Another diy upcycle, no PVC pipe today

Exhibit One
Beloved cotton cowlneck whose neckline stitching has shrunk so it's hard to get it over my head

Exhibit Two
Solution. Cut it open and make yet another jacket. The stitch design makes it curl inward, probably no need for binding

Exhibit Three
Proud owner modeling same and cracking up laughing

I rest my case.

March flowers, oh, right, it's leap year.

Sadie Hawkins Day. When wimmin can git up and ask for a guy's hand in marriage.  Me: I'll pass, thanks doing fine.

In fact I'm ready for March, and here's the Monthly Buncha Flarze. P. G. Wodehouse reference.

Still winter after all

It looks sunny and mild out there. Fake news. It's icy and a brisk wind. Walk reduced to a trip to the mailbox.

And since there were no breadlike items in the house and I didn't feel like seriously working on bread, I made a batch of hot biscuits, whole-wheat and oats.

 With golden raisins and walnuts.

The interesting piece of architecture on the plate is a biscuit, very tender, hard to split, containing butter and marmalade. Nice pot of English breakfast. Taking a break from the portable studio in the background.

New sweater rack built and in action

Just sayin'

It's 10.35 and I'm taking the rest of the day off.

Pancake Tuesday

Pancakes in the evening, too busy to make them for lunch. Kind neighbor did the PVC connector shopping, found the bag of stuff on my step when I came home.

So when I made my pancakes, half a dozen went next door for him and friend, sprinkled with sugar and lemon juice.

Made thin, and rolled. I like pancakes like crepes more than like stacks.

Then after delivering the guest pancakes, came home and made my own.

Enough batter for breakfast tomorrow.

Great audiobook reads

One of my real needs in the studio is to have language going while I work. It's like giving a little kid, my left brain, something to occupy her while right brain surges into action. And I've been very productive lately planning, spinning and weaving my Little Book project. So I've needed listening material.

I used to listen to public radio discussion programs, but these days it's audiobooks.

Currently I've just finished a P.D.James, Original Sin. She works very well in audio, with a good reader, that is. I reject a lot of audiobook productions with irritating narrators, especially those who can't pronounce the damn names. But don't get me started..

Anyway, this was good, very thoughtful, dark, better not to listen late at night, or it will get into my dreams. James is a novelist around mysteries, not a mystery writer where the puzzle is the main event.

And then there are audiobooks which just have to be heard, not read in print, like those of Isabel Allende, who's really an oral storyteller.

Here's my current, wonderful one, where the writer, Robin Wall Kimmerer is the narrator. She's descended from the Potawatomi people, a scientist in botany and ecology, a lecturer, and a learner of her true native language. So you need to hear her speak it here and there, to grasp her intent.

It's a series of essays, full of wisdom, very accessible and good humored, no patience for self important academic writing.

And I think it's really vital reading for us, to understand our history at this juncture in order to save all of us. She talks botany, ecology, Indian history and culture, and the relationship between the native people and the natural world.

If you enjoy the analysis of language and cultural meaning of Robert MacFarlane, you'll enjoy and get a lot out of  Robin Wall Kimmerer. In fact it was through his Twitter feed that I discovered her.

All my audio is free of charge,  via library, YouTube or Internet archive. With the last you need to know your exact author or title, because it's very clunky to browse otherwise. But a lot of good radio plays are available there.

 Just enter the words internet archive and the title you want into a Google search. Let me know if this is news to you, and if you find interesting items.

Further PVC fun. Well, maybe.

So I needed a second sweater rack, taller and wider, for bigger sweaters. And I had a nice 10ft length of 1.5" PVC pipe just standing about waiting for work. And a bunch of connectors.

Note the spare bed is a workbench.

So I cut one 36" and two 30" lengths, still have a bit left over. And went and attached a wrong connector to the end of the longest piece, the crossbar.

Which wouldn't have been a problem if I'd had a spare connector of that type. I only needed two, I only had two, and I found I'd picked up the wrong section, doh. Because they're close in size I thought I'd picked up a side member, which would have been fine.

It still wouldn't have been a problem, if there hadn't been the remains of masking tape on the pipe from the days when it was a curtain rail. Said tape clung fiercely, I couldn't shift the connector even with pliers. Took it to my strong nextdoor neighbor who also couldn't.

So it needs a shopping trip. For one connector.  Insert profanity here. But dear neighbor says he'll pick one up, and cut this one off the pipe. It will shorten it slightly but it's not significant. Then maybe I can get on with this fifteen minutes tops (!) project.

That was a first.

So now I'm going to flounce away and make egg and chips (fries) for supper. With ketchup.

Cast of characters awaiting their cues

Today's soup involves red lentils, yellow split peas, garlic, onions, diced tomatoes, navy beans, turmeric, kosher salt, Thai red curry paste, some leftover lentil flour, chicken stock. Basically just what was lying about. I needed soup.

I simmered it for 45 minutes, fished out the chicken bones, then blended it all. Then 30 minutes more.

Very filling lunch, particularly with a slice of cornbread.

And enough for half a dozen more meals. Handsome Son might get some of this.