Company is coming...

We are getting excited.  The washer guy is fixing one of the big load washers so I don't have to do laundry in a tea cup of water.  Eric and crew are coming to do the outdoor area, and the handyman is coming this evening to dirty up our clean house.  He is finally going to finish the powder room I HOPE.  There is more to do of course, but this will make the most dust and grit and work for me, so that's what he is going to do tonight...if he comes at all. We are having company!!! Three humans and two more dogs.  Captain Wagstaff (Beth's son) and his wife Carly, and our son David.  I think David was meaning to surprise us, but Mike let it out of the bag this morning. David always brings his dog and Carly and Brooks are moving to Oregon with his important new military assignment and they will have to bring their dog too.

I have begun cooking.  So far I have made a large anti-pasta salad (one dish of it will have pasta, and one without.) I have made a large batch of beef tortellini soup.  And, though I am totally over baking in any form, the guys have sweets on their minds. I have to make a list of what I need because it has been so long since I did the sweet bakes.  A cheesecake may be the answer, however, for I have the stuff that is needed.  Groan.  I miss the patisseries in Paris, that's what the French do...they make the main meal and buy the dessert. Then I have to make some of my crack breakfast treat for David to take home to Johnna.  She would love the Mrs. Field's chocolate chip cookies, but nooooo.  I can't do it. Maybe.

On Sunday we are all getting together for a roasted pork noon lunch with roasted potatoes and corn on the cob. So, I will be cooking big time in the next few day.  (Oh, I don't think Sam's  roasted cauliflower bites are good enough to buy again.  They need to flavor them up some.  They look good and hold together well, but there is little flavor inside.  Save your money for something tastier.)

Corn , cherries, and the beer joint

This time of year reminds me of the corn cob parties we used to have at the Spook House in August.  This is when our boys were small.  We would go to McConnelsville
on a Friday night and wait for Joe, Glenda, and their three girls to arrive for either a cherry-picking or a corn on the cob session, or both.  The spook house was an escape from the pressures of life.  It was and is across the road from the river and we found such happiness there.  It was like filling the car with gas and by Sunday afternoon we were filled up with goodness and ready for the week ahead. When we arrived Mother would have caldrons of boiling salted water outside in the yard.  Nice fires, newspaper-covered tables set up, and then all we needed was the corn.  Andy worked with a man who gave us as much corn on the cob that we wanted.  So we filled the station wagon with boys and corn and headed to the river house. Soon Joe and Glenda and the girls would arrive for the week end and the boiling began.  We cooked the corn, let what we didn't eat cool to handle, and we took it off the cob and filled small sandwich bags with the corn.  We put it in the fridge until Sunday.  That done I believe we went cherry picking on Saturday.  Seems like we combined that and if not we had individual visits to complete these processes.  We would go to the cherry fields and we simply could not stand to leave one juicy cherry on the trees.  We over picked, over ate, and over bought cherries.  They were glorious.  The kids had to pit the cherries and we made them keep their noses to the grind stone believe me.  After the work was done we cleaned up and went down the road to the Colonial Inn.  They had a dance floor, a jukebox, beer and the most audacious handmade French fries in the world, it seemed to us.  Juicy cheeseburgers were on the menu and dancing was required. Our kids had good lives even if they don't remember every aspect.  Life was and is so good to us.  Thank you Mom and Dad for preparing the way for us.

When I was teaching I took my entire class (around 30 kids) to the Spook House for a brouhaha week end.  The children enjoyed every minute of it.  We arrived first on Friday with a few girls and then everyone arrived on Saturday. We grilled and cooked and they all found things to enjoy but in the afternoon it started a gentle rain so I got the idea to take the class to the beer joint to eat and dance.  So off we went to the Colonial Inn.  We spent the entire afternoon playing pool, dancing, and enjoying French fries.  How did I get away with that?  We had the preacher with us.  Jill's father who was always good for a laugh thought that the beer parlor was a perfect solution for a rainy day.  My God, I could not get away with that now days.  As the children bedded down with giggles and whispers some on the wrap-around porch, some upstairs, some all over the house one, unfortunately, was in the house.  He had eaten so many hot dogs that he became sick and tried to outrun the upheaval by running room to room towards outdoors throwing up from one room to the next... and don't you know suddenly everyone was asleep (adults included) so guess who had clean up to do after a long busy day?

Thunderation

Thunderation what is going on? If my sources are correct the regulations are starting to get on my nanny. The big capacity washing machine started trying to get out of the basement, then a bolt snapped and the noise was horrific.  I called the repair man and he looked at it and said it could be fixed for $400. or I could buy a new one.  I was flabbergasted because I know for a fact that the new washers only allow very little water into the tub to wash clothes.  I witnessed this at Matt's house when I was doing their laundry.  I asked Matt how to get more water into the tub and he said you can't.  It is now a government regulation that allows you what they think you need to do a load of wash. These are people who can't get a bill passed and they worry about my washing machine? The repair man said there is only one washer to buy that does not have that regulation built-in and that is an $1100. appliance. (It has queen in the name and I never have heard of it.  I will ask him again when he comes Thursday and let you know in case you are in a hurry to buy one.) OH, It's Speed Queen made by Maytag and yes you can fill it with water as you like. Bless their hearts.

Then there are the new cars that turn off at every stop and turn back on to go.  You can turn that off...EVERY time you start the car.  Just an extra annoyance as if the road does not present enough headaches.

One of my high school classmates from McConnelsville died of the virus last night, so it has hit that little town.  The family has no idea how she got it and she has a big family. That is half of my classmates dead now, a new benchmark. Sarah was 82.

Well, this is a cheerful little post. I am ashamed of my whining.  Forgive me please.

On a happy note I am salad making crazy.  I make some form of this salad every other day.  It is fun to see what works in a cluster of savory healthy items.  Today I added pasta for a twist.  I have the most interesting array of jars of okra, baby sweet corn, sweet cauliflower...on and on. I love Amazon and the Amish stores' products. Amazon is the  safer place to shop than the other venue. Now I will be even more careful where I go since I lost a friend to the virus.  

Sam's has a new frozen item.  Cauliflower bites and they are good with a touch of siracha to spice them up a little.  We had them last night with fish sticks and roasted tomatoes.  Now that's a combination that works.

Six years old

I have very few memories of life before six years old when this picture was taken.  I remember being arranged and ready for my close up when I thought I should do something interesting for this picture, so I contorted my fingers...why? Only a six-year-old could answer that one.  I cleaned up real well but did not look that good on a daily basis sometimes I resembled a ragamuffin because I took care of myself after all.  My mother could not sew; she could make glorious quilts, but she could not sew garments.  Once she made a red coat for my sister, who was eleven years older than I, and when she wore it to school kids made fun of her.  She came home madder than a wet hen, took off the coat and threw it into the fireplace and burned it to a crisp.  I am sure that hurt mother's feelings, but at that time neither my sister nor I paid any attention to parent's feelings. Mother had a friend who sewed beautifully. She could have worked in a fashion house but was stuck in Roseville as were many talented people. Mother had her sew for me whenever she had some extra change and the clothes were glorious. In seventh grade, I was asked to model a pink corduroy dress for a fashion show. (That made my nemesis Leanna really mad.  I paid for that one.) I remember a sky blue silk dress with pearl buttons, and a beautiful white blouse with puff sleeves and a long black skirt for a play in sixth grade. She also made the dress in this picture. Once when peek-a-boo skirts were popular she made one for me with a pink peasant blouse.  It was such a cute outfit.  I wish I had pictures of these beautifully made clothes and a way to thank that long-gone woman.

Every year before school started we would go to Zanesville to one of the elegant department stores to buy some dresses for school.  I looked forward to that. I would get three or four but that was it for the entire year. The total cost was probably three dollars.  It was a loooong time ago.

I never had a bike and still do not know how to ride one.  Dad thought it was too dangerous.  I was admonished to never get on a bike, so naturally, I did, with two other people.  I was in the back of this threesome rolling down a hill going, of course, very fast and I tried to stop it with my shoes tearing the back out of one having caught it in the spokes.  Yowl.  How would I lie myself out of this one?  "How did you tear your shoe," dad asked.  "I caught it on a nail," was my reply.  And that was it.  Nothing more was said...ever. Of course, dad knew it was not true because his friend saw the entire thing and ratted on me, but Dad never brought it up again. I am sorry about that lapse in judgment but there were so many of them.

Discombobulated

Now that we are older we have been leasing rather than owning cars.  Our lease is up in a few days so last night we went to a dealership to pick up our new lease.  I was to follow Andy home.  The new car is black and somehow in rush hour traffic I started following the wrong black car.  Had he not pulled into a gas station I would have still been following him. Duh!  I knew where I was, but it was so disconcerting that I found it difficult to get out of the maze of side streets to get home, but I finally did.  Mike and Andy were calling over and over but I could not stop to answer in the heavy traffic.  When I pulled into the driveway Andy was white as a sheet and both he and Mike were standing in the driveway waiting for me. From now on it will be driving Miss Doris. I give up.  With isolation lasting for months I had not been driving.  I am going to practice with Andy the car phone feature; with cell phones, we rarely used the car phone feature before.  Now we are putting it in use for sure. There are more do-dads on this new lease, it wears me out thinking about learning it all, but I intend to for just in case situations. I know, we are lucky to be able to do all of this and I am not ungrateful or unmindful of the suffering of others, it was just a moment for me and a dangerous one.  I do know enough to get off the road. That short time frame scared the bejeebers out of me.

There, the word of the day, bejeebers, from the little-used words of old. Every post will put one or more of these words to work again. (Oh, I also used discombobulated too.)

Not late , not late, for a very important date

Andy and I are always on time, early even. We think being late is disrespectful.  My father was obsessed with being on time and it morphed into my outlook on life.  It is nerve-wracking to be obsessed with anything, but being on time is, to me, major stress.  Andy and I, however, did not realize that being late was accepted and practiced in France.  So when we were invited by one of the Paris antique dealers and her husband for dinner, we pressed the bell on the street and waited to be let into the second door, then pressed that bell and waited yet again.  We were on time and that couple was not ready for on time people.  So they plopped us down with radishes and a drink and proceeded to get ready for dinner. (The meat had yet to be cooked and I am not sure it ever was fully cooked.) So we sat. We noticed the husband carried a plank into the apartment from somewhere.  I don't know where people store planks in Paris, but there it was.  I thought it interesting that it was used with another plank as the dining table. No tablecloth. We watched the construction of our meal from the get-go.  Andy started looking around and then he began rolling his eyes trying to direct me to see something.  I thought at first he was having a stroke. He used his tongue in cheek and eye roll to direct my attention to the glass coffee table on which the radish dish and our drinks sat. Finally, I got the message and looked through the glass top and saw a pile of cat leavings.  If you thought being early was a faux pas then you should have seen us trying to maintain decorum while trying to hold in nervous laughter. We were about to burst when the doorbells started ringing and another couple that we knew arrived. (Maybe a replacement couple for the likes of us ?)  They were French and acceptably late.  We knew them and we were giddy with relief that they were invited.  By that time we had made so many gauche mistakes we thought we might be asked to leave and it would have been a welcome request.  Nevertheless, much later we were called into a closet with the table planks enhanced by actual chairs. I was at one end and the hostess, unfortunately, was at the other end of the board. While chewing our gray meat, I started the conversation with a sentence that caused another uproar about a famous auctioneer breaking my American friend's arm. I said that I was surprised about him doing that...throwing her against a stone wall and breaking her arm because he did not like her questioning his auctioneering moves concerning the American quilts that she had given him to sell. In unison, the couples agreed she deserved it because she was acting big. I plopped my elbows on the table with emphasis to disagree and one end of the plank flew up and food and utensils flew end to end in that tiny room and dinner was done and so were we.  I don't know how we got out of there.  It was surreal. Yet, oddly, this was only one instance of our many kerfuffles in Paris.

waxing nostalgic three

Thinking about today's school situation and what will happen to the world of education I once more waxed nostalgic. We lived in Roseville, Ohio. I think that is a pretty name for a village but it was not a wealthy place.  We lived, fortunately, right across a gravel road from the McCoy pottery where my parents and various members of our family worked.  I loved the pottery and enjoyed the workers.  We became friends and after at age five, I fired the heinous baby sitter who was a teenager and one I hoped would never procreate, the workers would look out for me to tell me it was time to go to school. I had a little chair from my tea party table and chairs out in front of the house facing the window of one of the guys working with the clay.  At a certain time he would shout, "time for school, Doris", and away I would go to first grade. If it was raining I could hear him from the front porch.  I don't remember what I did in the winter, but I came out unscathed except I am very careful with females in my life. I also think how the children who were in school and bullied that this remote learning that is in play right now must be a relief for them.  Not to have to face the bully every day and yet be able to learn must be a welcome respite.

During the school year a person would bring in a scale and everyone would be weighed and the results were on our report cards along with a lot of other personal information that could not be printed like that in this day and age.  I hated that day because I was tiny.  Everyone else weighed the usual amount but I came up not only shortest in class but I weighed the least and everyone thought that was so cute and funny. I found it less humorous, I can tell you that.   

Another school day was vaccination day!  Can you imagine getting away with that in this culture? It was free and painful and I blessed the situation with vomit every single time.  They got so they would move the trash can beside my desk in preparation for what was about to happen.  I never disappointed them.

Parents were not involved in the schools.  They had their jobs and the staff had theirs and the two seldom if ever mingled. Written communications were the thing at that time and they worked very well. I always got to school very early in the mornings and if my teacher was there we would practice my spelling.  One day she pronounced shoot and I carefully spelled shit.  I can remember the teacher's glee.  I am sure the teacher's room got a laugh out of that as well.

There was also a bully girl in my class starting about third grade.  Leanna was her name and she was mean through to seventh grade when I moved away. There were days when we had a good time together and then something would set her off and she was so nasty. Other than she and the one and only baby sitter, I have always been blessed with good friends, good family, and good times. When I donated the books that I have written to the Roseville Library I heard from several of my former teachers and classmates and Leanna was one of them.  She wrote a note and signed it with your old friend, Leanna. Yea, right... That library was where I discovered The Nancy Drew books and those books made me a reader for life. I remember a flood in that library and all the books became moldy smelling and there was not a library close by, I would check out the dried and smelly books anyway and hold my nose while I read. We had teachers that read to us every day after lunch.  One read the Uncle Wiggly series.  I loved that time of day, so when I became a teacher, that's what I did.  Every day after lunch I read to them for a long time.   I still hear from some of my students and that is always the first compliment that they mention, oh, and dodgeball is right up there too in the remembrances.

From a teacher:

Good day today...

We had the most glorious day yesterday with Kathy, Joe and Glenda coming up for the day from Cincinnati. We had two nice meals together while the pool and pergola got a working out as well.  We played cards on the porch while the others were in the pool keeping cool.  The first meal outside was like a scene from Tuscany. A colorful tablecloth, bottles of wine, mimosas to start along with a frittata, Italian salad, sweet corn, good chatter with hours of catching-up.  We had not seen them since July 2019. Matt and Stacy brought the great-grandchildren over for the day and Madeleine, age three, performed songs and dances from Frozen to entertain us further. The sun was exactly right with a soft breeze all day long.  It was perfect.

Speaking of perfect, we had a delicious pork roast for the second meal.  It was wrapped in bacon and I had marinated it for two days, roasted it for 40 minutes, sliced it and it was beautiful and tasty.  So easy.  Sometimes we take pork for granted.

The guests came at 10:00am and left at 6:00 and I was beat!  Luckily, Beth and Kathy took over clean up and left the kitchen in perfect order.  I could not have taken on that task at the end of a great day. When I am done, nowadays, I am done.  However, I feel lucky to be able to do what I do at the age I am. I had a good night's sleep and am writing this around 4:00 am. Not too bad.

Getting ready for company at last

Yesterday I made two crock pots of soups: chicken and noodles and hodgepodge.  The latter was entirely eaten last evening so I made another pot this morning.  It burbled away while I did another cold Italian salad to go with the brunch frittatas for tomorrow's arrivals. Notice the baby corn; I adore products from Jake and Amos, I think it is an Amish company.  Fell in love with their baby corn and the marinade in which they rest.  I could eat the entire jar.  All of their products are good but expensive unless you go to an Amish store, then the products are more than reasonable.  I ordered several from Amazon because I did not want to go into a store if I could help it.  So I paid more but they were delivered the next day right to my door. Love Amazon too. In this salad, I used the juice from the jar of baby corn and let it rest and mingle until Sunday morning when guests arrive for the first time since July 2019.  What a world. When I waved the July 4th guests good-bye last year I had no idea, nor did anyone, what hell we were in for and now it is upon us.

Guests, oh my

We are having guests Sunday, the first time in over seven months. I'm a bit giddy. Kathy is driving Miss Daisy...no, she is driving Joe and Glenda up here to Many Branches for the day.  I will have a nice hot frittata waiting for them along with a salad with all Italian ingredients. It is never the same and the ingredients change with whatever is on my shelves and in the fridge.  For dinner, I will have a lovely bacon-wrapped pork roast, roasted potatoes with multi-colored carrots which will be roasted with the pork.

We are in the middle of construction trying to recover from the new pipes syndrome which has left dust and grit all over the house. Normally, I would not have guests, even family, during that time but I think last July was the last time family was here.  Only three are coming, so it will be fun outside playing cards and having good food and catch-up time. Oh, drinks might be in order as well.

ahhhhh the dust, the dust

Celebrities have never much interested me.  However, I did follow Martha Stewart when she first started out.  I admired her work ethic but not her stiff way of speaking.  She was trying to shed the New Jersey girl speak and was often seen as stilted and pompous while trying to shape a new way of presenting herself. I bought and watched and rewatched her first set of videos.  Sometimes weekend guests would visit (a lot) and I would cook Martha dinners which was very laborious, a bit like her speech pattern.  One Thanksgiving the company and I dressed the turkey in puff pastry and it looked perfect and was delicious to boot.  But it is not something I will ever do again. Anyway, Martha rode high for a long time and worked very hard pinching other people's ideas on occasion without giving them credit or so the press said, and you know the media is always right.  Lately, however, she's struggled to be important again in the TV sector.  But, I think she has found her niche on HGTV channel 52 (I think) in Columbus.  It takes place on her pristine farm and it is a garden show.  Andy and I liked it very much and she even told jokes--one about her husband.  She said couples who garden together stay together but not my husband, he ran away. (He actually did leave her and was it messy!) She said, 'I used to assign him garden duties and he would lay down in the grass and listen to classical music.' She did not think much of his gardening skills although she did tend to be critical of everyone who wasn't her.  Now she is more comfortable in her situation... loose and more comfortable in speech and demeanor and I think this show may work out for her.  She is a very good teacher and prides herself instructing others often and clearly. I think Snoop Dog has caused her to lighten up either that or its the weed. They are an unlikely pair but enjoy their time together. Strange, the connections we make with people in our lives. 

If you follow my blogs you know about the new pipes and the big cut-outs in my ceilings.  The powder room is the worst and a guy has just torn it to smithereens and is still working on it as I write. This blog gives me an outlet so I don't run screaming down Cooke Road. None of us like messed up houses and all dread construction and I have had enough of it done over the 34 years we have lived it.  I can't think there can be that many more surprises in store for us.  I've talked to The Lord about it and I think he agrees, we've had enough all the way around this year. Yet the hammering continues, the dust is still flying, and I have my night work ahead of me...that includes the shop vac and the mop. I bet you are wishing you were me. lol

Note:  I do have time to read and the book I am reading now is really, really good.  Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate.