Tag Archives: around the house

Tuesday

The latest batch o’ spam includes a Jane Austen fan, apparently.

Keep your breath to cool your porridge.

Mordez-moi aussi, duckie.

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Busy morning at the day job. Home during lunch to let out the pups, a little later than usual. Color me In A Hurry. Dump purse, keys, etc on kitchen table, grab towel, and go out on deck to wait for pups so’s I could wipe their muddy paws before they went inside. Close door after me, because that’s what you do. Wipe pup paws, then open door to go back inside. Try to open door. Try really, really hard.

Yeah.

You see, back door is problematic. It’s old, which means that all the trimsulation or whatever the hell you call it is old as well. Most of it is cracked or missing, so last year I inserted some lengths of narrow foam stripping to fill in gaps and keep out cold air etc. For some time, this insulation remained puffy enough to keep the door from closing completely–the deadlatch wouldn’t catch and the door would pop open. To keep the door closed, I either had to slam it really hard, or engage the deadbolt. The deadbolt is locked on the inside with a thumbturn and on the outside with a key. The second lock, on the door handle, was never really an issue because the door never shut properly. I usually left it engaged.

Now last summer, I accidentally slammed the door and did manage to lock myself out. But I cranked down on the door handle and pushed with my shoulder and the door opened because the insulation was still thick enough to keep the deadlatch from extending all the way.

The insulation has thinned since then. If the door is closed with force, like when one is rushing out onto the deck with a towel to wipe muddy pup paws, the deadlatch will extend all the way.

Yeah.

I must have spent a good 45 minutes trying to open that door. I cranked on the handle and pushed, cranked and pushed. Cranked and kicked. Kicked many many times. Hunted for anything on the deck or out on the yard that I could use as a pry. Wondered whether I should just give up and drive to the hardware store and call a locksmith. I did have my car keys, but drivers license was in wallet, which was in purse, which was safely secured inside the house, along with two sets of house keys and my phone.

I debated breaking the door glass (French door–lotta glass). Instead, I searched the deck again, and found a short pole behind the wood rack. I braced it against the door handle and levered it down, down, down, cranking the door handle more and more until the screw posts cracked. Pulled the knob apart, and got in the house.

Bought a new handle after work and installed it. It’s not perfect. The deadbolt is dull brass, but the local store didn’t have an entry door handle with the same finish. So I settled for worn bronze, which is black with coppery undertones. And since the handles curve, I need to reverse them at some point–they curve up, and they’re supposed to curve down, which means I need to pop them off the spindle and reverse them. Just don’t feel like dealing with that now. My right shoulder and arm are a little stiff from grappling with the door handle and pushing, and my right foot is a little stiff from kicking. Nothing serious, she said, fingers crossed. I’m just happy that the door closes.

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Looks like I’m going to have to upgrade to Lion in the near future. MobileMe, the older Backup/iDisk/Mail/calendar service, is going away, to be replaced by iCloud, which requires Lion to run. I haven’t heard great things about Lion, so I will wait as long as I can. But sometime in the next few months, I will have to give up Snow Leopard and move on.

I saw that Mountain Lion will be coming out this summer, which is another hint that Lion wasn’t all that great. Poor kitty. He deserved better.

 

 

 

 

Words to live by

To Hell With It. Cobwebs festooning the corners? Dust pumas under the bed? Floors that crunch underfoot? So what? The laundry goes from body to hamper to washer to clothes basket to body again without being sidetracked into closet or drawer. No problem. Why scrub down the stove and the counters? They’ll only get dirty again. Okay, we stop short of being shut down by the Board of Public Health. But who gives a rat’s backside if the linens match? And making the bed? Please. Life is too short.

And I have novels to write.

I was bad and printed the climax first. Sort of like eating dessert before dinner. But the rest of the post is here, and is well worth your time.

Several things make a post

February is going to be a tough month, so blogging may be light.

1) I will be at Capricon this Friday, for the day only. Schedule is as follows:

Reading: Kristine Smith – Friday, 02-10-2012 – 11:00 am to 11:30 am – River C (Cafe)

My First Doctor- The Classic Doctor Who Panel – Friday, 02-10-2012 – 11:30 am to 1:00 pm – Botanic Garden A (Special Events – Programming)

Does It Matter If Science Fiction Authors Are Bad at Predicting the Future? – Friday, 02-10-2012 – 7:00 pm to 8:30 pm – Willow

2) I don’t care who wins the Super Bowl. The Blackhawks are in a slump, and that’s all the sports shit I can deal with at the moment. Trying to forget about it, actually. As my Dad used to say, I don’t have any money riding on them. And yelling at the TV just alarms the pups, anyway.

3) Stocked up the cookie jars yesterday in preparation for the month ahead. My fave oatmeal cookie recipe, with a few additions/changes. Toasted the oatmeal as well as the nuts (walnuts this time instead of pecans). Added a tablespoon of dark rum, a half-teaspoon of ground ginger, and a half-teaspoon or so of freshly ground nutmeg. Used organic raisins that turned out to be rather large, as in actual large shriveled grape-size, and a bit sweeter than usual. All combined to boost the flavor significantly. Next time, I will toast the oatmeal a little longer–some of it had turned light golden, but not all of it. But it looks like cookie flavor is improved if you lightly toast everything that’s toastable. And add more spices. And rum. I can tell you where some of the rum has gone.

4) Can’t believe tomorrow’s Monday. I do so love being home, puttering, doing what needs doing when I want to do it. Being able to think in solitude. The place is a hovel with dog hair everywhere and needs a good scrub from stem to stern, but oh well. Hovel Is Where The Heart Is. And The Brain, too, most days.

Tuesday post-con

Taking today off. A good idea.

I picked up the pups this morning from the Doggy Spa/Retreat. Both were !!HAPPY!! to see me. Gaby whimpered most of the way home and bugged me to pet her, while King sat in back and looked out the window. Once home, they ran around and drank water and ate snow and peed and dashed around and drank more water and ate more snow. They’re both sleeping now in their usual places, King by the back door and Gaby on the other end of the couch.

They were both groomed, and have the neckerchiefs to prove it. Gaby’s is pink checkers, while King’s is blue with white polka dots.

Household’s back to normal. Or as normal as it gets around here.

Snow!

I don’t know, maybe a half-inch of light stuff? Just enough for Gaby to eat and push her face through. Still, it’s the first snow of the season and it does make it look more Christmassy. Or at least it will until tomorrow, when it’s supposed to warm up to the 40s again, which means yea! mud! Then comes rain, and then maybe more snow. But temps are staying above freezing, which means I must keep a clean stack of dog towels by the back door at all times. The best thing about heavier snow cover is that puppy paws stay clean. Wet, yes, but clean wet. Until the March thaw, at which time I wish for tile floors with a drain in the middle fit for hosing down.

Had new tires put on Kuro last week, and am ever so glad. The old ones still had tread but had gone hard and cracked and were probably 10K miles past their use-by date. I knew something needed doing when Kuro started hydroplaning on wet roads at relatively low speeds, so I took him in. Tried not to think too much about the cost. It was worth it, of course. The difference in feel is so profound, it’s scary.

Had steel-cut oats for supper last night, even though they took forever, as they are wont to do. Made enough for the weekend, and had some this morning with blueberries and bananas and maple syrup. Odd combo, but so good.

Finches have taken up residence in the big evergreen shrub by the deck, and are using it as homebase as they flit to the feeder and back. Clusters of 10 or more at a time. They perch in a line on the prairiefire branch that grew right to the lip of the feeder, and wait their turn like kids waiting to talk to Santa.

Not much going on today. Grocery shopping. Haircut. Day job stuff. And it won’t get done until I get started, so off to it–

Run, run, Rudolph

When I hear about people hitting deer, they’re driving along remote country roads or freeways, usually at night.

I almost hit one in front of my house.

It was dark. I had picked up Gaby from the groomers, and was talking to her and looking out the passenger side window to see if the local newspaper was sitting in the open-ended mailbox at the end of the driveway when I saw movement. Then a big deer trotted across the road in front of the car. A *big* deer. It was at least 10 feet away, but still. If I hadn’t been slowing down, I probably would have hit it.

It trotted off, followed by a buddy. I don’t know what they were munching on in the neighbor’s yard. I do think they’ve been snacking on the yews in my side yard. For the last two years, the poor things have had their branches stripped. I should probably dig them up, but so far they’ve been rebounding over the summer. Just in time for the next round of winter snacking.

Gaby got her winter bath and trim. She’s all fluffed out, and the mud has been removed. The groomer tied a cute little holly-dotted scarf around her neck, which I will leave in until tomorrow morning. Can’t risk King grabbing it and pulling on it during play.

The groomer had written “good girl” on Gaby’s receipt. Well, yes, she is. Mostly.

It was still on the warm side today–40s–but windy and getting colder. A soup/stew day. I chopped up the last of Sunday’s roast chicken and added it to the French oven along with the roasted veggies–fennel, onion, carrots, garlic–some corn, and barley. Let a fond build up, then added a cup of sauvignon blanc and a cup and a half or so of Sunday’s stock. 4 cups water. After the barley had cooked, I thickened the mess with gumbo file. A very hearty soup resulted. More like a stew. Good with bread and butter.

And finally, for those of us who still miss Calvin & Hobbes….

Rain all day yesterday and most of the night. I had been able to take the dog towels off the floor over the course of the week, but now they’re back down and already a mess. Supposed to clear today, after which comes the cold. Possibilities of light snow, though not enough to require firing up of the snow thrower.

Why do I have a feeling that my having acquired said snow thrower pretty much guarantees a mild, snowless winter? November was unseasonably mild, and December is starting the same way. But snow means clean puppy paws, at least until the dread March thaw. Constant rain means that there won’t be enough dog towels in the world.

Baked more cookies yesterday, as the crystallized ginger I had ordered from King Arthur arrived. This was soft chopped ginger, however, which I learned means that it comes packed in some of its syrup. I took care to leave liquid behind when I took out what was needed, but it still meant more liquid in the cookies. This dough came out a bit stickier than usual, but the cookies are more moist inside and have more of a gingery bite. I may stick with this type of ginger in the future, although if I used 100% all-purpose flour instead of 50:50 white:white w/w, the dough would likely be waaaaay too sticky/wet.

Quiet day. Harry Potter movies playing in the background. Working through the morning. Dinner will consist of breaded/fried beef liver with roasted veggies and mashed potatoes. I love liver. Call it a weakness.

Currently reading Richard Kadrey’s KILL THE DEAD, and liking it. Lucifer is my favorite character so far. Go figure.

Sunday?

It’s the 4th day of the long holiday weekend, and I officially am confused as to what day it is. Opened my eyes this morning, and thought it was Monday. So glad I was wrong.

Tomorrow, when I think it’s Monday, I won’t be wrong. That hurts.

Rained the whole blessed day yesterday, a light mist followed by steadier stuff. Looks like it’s finally pushed out, taking the unseasonable warm with it. Now it’s 40F, with a stiff breeze. 20s tonight. I’ve disconnected the garden hoses, but have left them looped outside for the moment. Need to figure out where to store them. Hung them on hooks in the garage last year, but they weighed too much and pulled said hooks out of the studs. I could just lay them atop something, but unless they’re secured they tend to slither and spread about. My fault for not thinking this through when it was warm. I’ll figure something out.

At least the basement stayed dry.

Christmas lights are still on, which means the timer isn’t working. I have another one, so I will switch them out when I put out the garbage around lunchtime. It’s just too damned uninviting now, grey and damp and cold. The only natural brightness comes from the prairie fire crabapple, which is filled with tiny red apples. The squirrels have left them because they only eat them as a last resort, likely because they’re bitter. The Louisa crabapple’s little gold apples must therefore be sweet, because they were stripped weeks ago.

Friday’s Cranberry-Orange Cake came out well. Not as sweet as I feared, although the syrup could use a little lemon juice or something. The recipe would work for muffins as well, if that’s what’s preferred.

Hoping for a quiet day free of horking dogs and other issues. Sundays always go by so quickly. It’s going to be 5pm before I know it.

Writing tip of the day: Prepositions often aren’t necessary, I’ve found. “She walked to the back of the house” works as well as “She walked around to the back of the house,” depending on how the scene’s been set up. Yesterday, I pondered “swallowed down,” and wound up removing the “down.” Swallowing only goes in one direction, at least for humans, so ‘down’ is redundant. “Choked back.” “Choked down.” “Bit back.” There, the preposition might be necessary, but I have found over time that I can remove a goodly number of them without forsaking clarity.

Saturday morning, too early

Heard rustling in the dark. Checked the clock. 230am. Listened. Thought it was Gaby at first, as that is her usual Bathroom! Mom! time. But the step was too heavy and there was the clinking of dog tags besides. That meant King.

Turned on the light to find him staring at me from the bedroom doorway, and told him to lie down. I didn’t want to let him out because I suspected he sensed an animal in the yard, and I really didn’t want to deal with a barkfest in the middle of the night.

Then I saw that he was licking his lips and swallowing, licking his lips and swallowing. Oh hell. If I didn’t want to have to break out the heavy duty floor cleaner, I needed to let him outside.

I let him out, and he immediately started chomping grass, that frantic rummage I remember so well from his severe gastritis days in mid-2007. There isn’t much of the long stuff left, so he darted from one spot to another, pulling at whatever blades he could find. After a minute or so of this, he ran around to the back of the garage. I grabbed my coat and went after him, braced for sounds of retching, and rounded the garage just as he started barking at the rear gate and sniffing the fence line. He ran back and forth for a bit, trotted back to the deck, took a long drink from the ever-present water bowl, then stood by the back door and waited for me to let him in. I debated, since the prospect of mopping up a really big puddle of half-digested grass lacked appeal, but let him in anyway. He waited by the bakers rack for a snack, which I declined to give him, so he returned to his bed and settled in, grumbling a bit as usual. After a few minutes, the sounds of soft snoring emanated from his corner.

It took me a little longer to get back to sleep. I feared that the gut bomb would hit and I wouldn’t get him out in time. But the snoring continued, and I must have relaxed because the next thing I knew, it was 7am. Found nothing untoward in any of the rooms. Fed everyone. King and Gaby are now dozing in the living room, Herself on the couch and HRH on the dog bed.

I still don’t know what happened. I think King’s stomach adventures are so indelibly etched that any hint of tummy rumbles or heartburn panic him and drive him to the grass. But it settles quickly, so he then goes about his business and leaves me to wonder WTF??? At 230am, when the mind tends to wander.

Damn dog.

My Black Friday shopping consisted of quick trips to the local grocery store and drug store. The grocery store was almost empty–the produce guy told me that it will remain slow until late next week, and that folks are told that if they have any vacation time left, this is the time to take it.

Today, work. Dinner will likely be the beef veggie soup. At some point, I need to tweak the holiday lights. They stayed on all night, which means the timer didn’t. It’s cloudy. 50s, with a cool-off coming. I don’t mind that the decorations are lit since they brighten things up.

*spla*

Lots of recipe/food discussion. Be warned.

The initial plan, formulated this morning, was a simple one. Buy the few things needed for Thanksgiving, then come home and write.

So. On the way to the grocery store, I stopped by the hardware big box to look for a nice shelving unit. I am trying to salvage the three hanging basket lavender plants that I bought a month or so ago by wintering them indoors, but the things are freakin’ huge. They didn’t fit on the small shelving unit that I had set in front of the one window in this house that has decent southern exposure, so I looked for different shelving. Found a nice chrome wire unit, like those you see in walk-in pantries–OMG, do I want a walk-in pantry some day–and snapped it up.

Then came groceries, which included all the fresh veggies for the Turkey Day not-a-turkey. I’m making beef short ribs this year, with buttermilk mashed potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts, and I didn’t want to wait until the last minute to get what was needed.

Home. Fed pups. Fed me. Assembled shelving unit. Moved large lavender baskets onto same. Yea, they fit, as do the other herb pots. Then I saw the mess atop the dining room table, and something in me snapped. Culled catalogs and sorted receipts, bills, notes, and all the other effluvia–it’s not perfect, but it’s a hella better than it was. Some order achieved. I can take clutter for a little while, but at some point I need to regain control of my space, that’s just how it goes.

Then I made marmalade. At least, I started making marmalade. It’s a two-stage recipe. First stage consists of boiling the sliced fruit in water, taking it off the heat and adding the sugar, then letting the mix sit at room temp overnight. Tomorrow, I cook the stuff until it’s that rich orangy-brown color. I’m not trying any fancy additions like whisky or liqueurs for this first effort. I just want to see if I can make something that tastes better than the store-bought stuff, which just doesn’t thrill me. I didn’t use Seville oranges or Meyer lemons, just navels and plain ol’ little lemons.

Then, I made cookies. My standby ginger cookies.** As usual, I substituted white whole wheat flour for half the all-purpose. I usually wind up with a drier dough as a result, but this time I ended up with something downright crumbly. In the past, I added additional molasses to moisten things up, and wound up overwhelming the ginger and spices. This time, I just worked with it as is. The warmth from my hands was enough to soften the dough balls so they held together, though I had to handle them carefully. But the resulting cookies were good, a little crisp outside and very light inside.

I was finally able to sit down a little after 7. One load of laundry’s in the washer, another in the dryer. Hockey on in the background. Pups are asleep. My feet hurt. I need more coffee. Time to write.

Where in hell did the day go?

**If it seems as though I make a lot of Ina Garten recipes, well, I do. Her food is basic, relatively simple to make, and tasty.