Archive | July, 2012

Another Fine Mess

13 Jul

I finally had a few minutes to spare this morning and laid out the stuff to complete the shingles on Savannah’s house: shingles, paint, hot glue, waxed paper.

When I spun the house around to put the last few shingles on the back of the roof, I discovered the wallpaper I had printed off and applied in the little girl’s room had “bled” all over the place. It looked as if some blue and red fungus had taken root, instead of the Raggedy Ann and Andy I’d put in there. Talk about revolting developments! I peeled off as much of the paper as I could, but the ink has actually gone through the paper and is now embedded in the walls.


Will have to go to Michael’s and get some scrapbook paper, and redo the room. I hate when that happens.


Dante’s Inferno

7 Jul

It is blistering here (still 102 f at 7:45 in the evening), and the compressor in the bedroom a/c went up last night. It was still far too hot outside to open the windows and just use the fan to pull in fresh air.

Under normal circumstances, we would have gone down and opened the sofa bed, but for reasons way beyond MY comprehension, The Squire decided to put the downstairs unit in the kitchen instead on the living room.  The living room and dining room are one long space, but the kitchen is off to the side, and there is no circulation. What was he thinking? I needed a sweater in the kitchen and it was almost 100 f in the dining room. Mind you, if he could find some itty-bitty unit for the kitchen, that would be great, but we do NOT need 8,000 BTUs in a room barely 11 feet to a side.

I went in and spent ten minutes getting all the junk off my guestroom bed (which doubles as a sewing/craft room) and slept in there, as that a/c was working.

I knew he was going to the movies this morning, and the last thing I said to him was, “When you and Mac go to the movies tomorrow, be sure to stop at Lowe’s and get a new a/c”.  I had to run out to the library and the farmer’s market today,  and he had come home while I was out.

“Do you need help with the a/c or did Mac already help you?”

Blank look. “Honestly, it completely slipped my mind.”

How can you possibly walk out of a movie theater, which is usually cold enough to hang meat, and not be reminded that your bedroom is going to be just about as hot as the sidewalk? Sometimes, I wonder just which one of us had the stroke.

At any rate, we did move the downstairs unit out of the kitchen and into the living room, which is half the battle. Next came calling every home improvement store between Philly and DC to find a new one for the bedroom. Small comfort, I suppose, to learn that Lowe’s didn’t have one in stock, anyway. He finally located one at Sears, and we got it hooked up as soon as he got home.

Will somebody please explain why on Earth a person needs a remore control for an air conditioner? Good Lord, deliver us!

Some Photos from the Baptism, and an Ugh! Moment

7 Jul

 This is a shot of my nephew Brian, his wife Ruth, and their son Eric, along with her brother, Andrew, who is Timothy Martin’s godfather. Andy’s wife is Tim’s godmother, but she was working out of town.

I had to get a quick update from my brother-in-law on how Lutherans do Communion. It’s been over 45 years since I left the Missouri Synod, and even though Lutherans change at the same glacial rate as Episcopalians, things do creep along. Back in the day, the pastor gave each person a small individual cup of wine, but at this service the pastor had a chalice of wine, and the server had a tray of small cups,  a few with white grape juice, and wine in the rest. They moved along side by side, so you could partake as you wished.   When I left Missouri, there was a great hoo-rah going on about whether to continue using all personal cups or switch to a common chalice. They seem to have reached a nice compromise.  At another Lutheran church we attended, those who wanted to use individual cups had to come up at the end, which really made them obvious. This way moved much more smoothly.

After the service, I mentioned to Pastor Linthicum that our rector always compares wearing a polyester alb in the summer to preaching in a zip-lock bag.  He laughed and said it was more like being wrapped in a shower curtain, especially since there was no A/C that day.  And, of course, there’s always a spotlight over the altar, which just makes it hotter. I’ve looked in pattern books to see about making myself a cotton or linen alb to wear when I am a chalicist but even with as much sewing as I’ve done over the years, it seems to be a rather daunting task.

Many years ago, we gave each of our grandchildren a plaque with their names in English in the center, and as many alphabets as we could find around the outside.  I decided this was as good a time as any to do up a set for Brian and Ruth’s boys, and I also made one for Brian’s brother’s daughter, Brooklyn.  There is no B or R in Cherokee, so Erik became “Elik(e)” and poor Brooklyn is just “Ooklyn”. The writing on these is Cherokee, Russian, Hindi, Hebrew, Japanese, and Greek.  (Other than an S sound, all Cherokee syllables end in a vowel sound, so even Brooklyn had an uh on the end.)

The Squire is very hard of hearing, and we do not have central air conditioning, so there is always a buzzing going on in the summer. Yesterday morning, the cat was screaming outside our bedroom door, that he was going to just lay down and DIE if he didn’t get fed right now. I stumbled down stairs, took my synthroid,  fed both Eddie and Blazer, filled all the various outdoor feeders, and staggered back up to bed. I set the timer for an hour and a half, as I had an appointment with the back surgeon at 10:30, closed my eyes, and was gone.

Apparently, my getting into bed disturbed The Squire enough to get him out, which was just as well, as he had to see the dermatologist at 9:30.  He came up and woke me when he was leaving, bearing a cup of coffee and the newspaper. He said he hadn’t seen Eddie and Blazer wouldn’t eat his breakfast.  Well, Eddie had gone out after he ate, and Blazer was full of his first breakfast. (First dog I’ve ever had that didn’t eat until he fell over; he’ll eat what he wants and then quits.)

So – this afternoon when I got home I removed my contacts, washed my face, and put on my jammies, then started to work on the Bombay house some more. I dropped a small part to a lamp (still haven’t found it) and while I was crawling around on the dining room floor I noticed a largish, dark blob, which I first thought might be a pillow from the dollhouse sofa.

It was a gift from dear Eddie – the head of a mouse. Blegh!

Wind, Rain, and Lightening – and a Baptism

2 Jul

Yesterday, The Squire and I drove to Hyattsville for the baptism of our newest great-nephew. Because of the storm, what should have taken 45 minutes to an hour took almost two hours.  Missed the main event, but we got there in time for communion.

Power was still out – all of our delays were caused by having to go blocks out of our way to avoid downed power lines and non-functioning traffic lights. The GPS lady was having a hissy fit, re-calculating our route every five minutes. Several tornadoes went through the area, and trees were uprooted and broken off all over the place.  Over a quarter million without power in the Baltimore area, and 3 million up and down the east coast. And, of course, every single one of them wants to be the first to have their power restored. Nothing can be done until the trees are removed, which the public refuses to grasp.

The church was like an oven. One of the ushers, bless him, came down the side aisle with cups of ice water! What a wonderful idea!

The baby’s mom had asked us to bring rolls to the party to make sandwiches, which we couldn’t get on Saturday because our local store was closed. We had to stop on the way to the party, and the only open store we could find  was a Mexican supermarket. Now, my only word of Spanish is “gracias”, which wasn’t much help. Instinctively, I reverted to the languages I do know – French, German and Cherokee.  Except that in times of stress, I mix them up. (Not that a soul would have known; they just assumed I was some crazy gringo anyway.) Ou est le brot? Pain awadulia. (I want [French] bread)  Wo is das gadu?  I was finally reduced to drawing a picture of a loaf of bread, and then a man came by with a loaf in his cart, and I grabbed it and asked “where is this”? Clutching his bread to his breast, he pointed that-a-way and scuttled  off.

One thing I like about my family is that they generally manage to be cordial to their exes. My brother-in-law’s former wife recently lost her husband, and for whatever reason, Social Security declared both of them dead. When her checks stopped coming, she called them to ask why, and they told her she was dead. On my best day, I couldn’t say, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Smith, but you are dead.” A note from her doctor didn’t do it. Her son had to take her down to the Social Security office to sign a “Resurrection Form”. (The mind boggles.) First, Ginny had to sit there while they looked at her from all angles (presumably to make sure Carl hadn’t just propped her up or something) and then she had to actually sign a form and say “I am alive”.

My nephew remarked that Jesus managed to do it without all that paper work. To which his father-in-law replied, “Well, no wonder the Romans were mad. He didn’t go through the proper channels!”