Archive | May, 2014

Road Rage

31 May

The Squire is one of the most patient men who ever lived (sharing a life with me will do that for ya!) but even he has limits.

In order to get from our home to the thriving metropolis of Joppatowne, or almost anyplace else for that matter,  it is necessary to cross US Rt. 40, which is a very busy dual lane highway.  Traffic from the side street is allowed to cross for a short time first one direction and then the other. Then Rt. 40 runs, long enough to show short movies.

This morning, as The Squire was heading to church, the light was green for him to go as he approached the intersection. There were two cars in front of him, and they could have made it, but the woman in the front car was taking her own sweet time. By the time she had dawdled up to the highway they all missed the light. Not the end of the world, but she stopped so far from the corner that she didn’t trip the” switch”, so while the light turned green for the other side, the folks on this side had to sit through two circuits.

The fellow in the car in front of The Squire got out of his car and tapped on her window. “Lady, you have to pull up a bit or the light will never change.” She rolled down her window and told him, very bluntly, that she was on an important call, and he could do any number of impossible things.

To top it off, she was so far over that people wanting to turn left had to pull into on-coming traffic to get into the turn lane.

Some people really do need a good smack upside the head.

Wouldn’t You Know

30 May

After three days of temps on the 80s and 90s (with humidity to match), which led to the great Air Conditioner Debate, we have now had three days of cold and rain. The temperature right now is 65, which is the expected high for the day, going down into the mid-50s tonight.

It is supposed to go back up to 80 on Monday, so maybe we can finally get the summer-winter clothing switch completed. Twice, I’ve started to pack away my winter clothing, only to have to drag the plastic tub back out of the attic, so I don’t freeze to death.

Ogden Nash once wrote “Spring comes to Baltimore/But Christmas comes more promptly”.

Let the Games Begin!

28 May

It seems to be one of the Rules of the Universe that people who need ten hours sleep always marry folks who can get by on six. Pack-rats always end up with mates who toss out anything not nailed down. And, of course, people who like it cold marry people who like it warm.

I have low thyroid, and as a result, I am always cold.  The Squire is a one-man blast furnace.  One year on vacation, we stayed over night in a suite – the bedroom was large enough to hold a square dance, plus a small kitchen/living room combination. There was a noticeable drop in the temperature when I walked out of the bedroom. He could heat a small office all by himself. I sleep under a quilt, and he has just the sheet – and we are side by side in the bed!

We live in an old farm house, which was not built, so much as accumulated, and it is time to install the window air conditioners. This is always fun. We have one in the living room, which cools both that room and the dining room – really just one very long space, about 15 by 35 feet. There is a second unit in our bedroom, and a third in the room which serves as a guest room, sewing room and TV room.  Only the one in our room has an actual thermostat; all the others are cool, cold and arctic.

He sets the one in the bedroom at 69. I nudge it up to 75. He wakes in up the middle of the night and puts it back down, and so it goes. I’m sorry, but I simply refuse to spend the summer wearing a hooded house coat (with the hood pulled up), sleeping under the quilt and a blanket folded in half, while he snuggles under the sheet.

By popular request, he has decamped to the guest room for the time being.

Self Control

26 May

You all may remember our friend Mac, who set off the burglar alarm last July. He is truly a very intelligent man, but his sandwiches are packed in the basket in a different order from the rest of us.

He brought his lap-top to church yesterday so The Squire could take a look at it. We locked it in the rector’s office during services, and then brought it home. All fixed and ready to go, so The Squire took it over to Mac’s house who told him the power cord was missing.

A phone call to me to ask where in the office I had put it. “On the rector’s chair by the desk. You’re the one who picked it up.” Hmm. “Maybe I left it on the chair.” The Squire swung by church, and there was no power cord in the chair, so he came back home to see if he had left it in the workshop. Not there, either. He finally grabbed one of his spare power cords and took it back to Mac’s house, so he’d at least have something to run his computer.

When he laid the cord on top of the laptop case, he noticed one pocket was flat and the other bulging. And there was the “missing” power cord. When he confronted Mac about this, after two trip between our house and theirs, and asked why he hadn’t looked in both pockets, the answer was “The power cord belongs in the left pocket, not the right one.”  Shades of Sheldon Cooper!

The Squire said it was a good thing he didn’t have a gun. 

And the Dish Ran Away With the Spoon

23 May

I mentioned a while back that The Squire and I managed to misplace a pillow case while we were making the bed. We had it, and it disappeared faster than a cat when it sees a carrier. Looked under the bed, between the bed and the cedar chest, in the cradle. I even lifted the edges of the mattress.  Nada. And it still hasn’t shown up.

This morning, we were making the bed, and The Squire noticed he didn’t have “his” pillow.  Now, I am the type to buy pillows on sale at Target, two for $7, or whatever. The last time I sent him off to the store, he got special pillows for each of us. I sleep flat on my back, and he sleeps curled up on his side, so he bought pillows specifically designed for the way we sleep. I didn’t ask him what they cost.

Apparently, his pillow has been MIA for quite a while, but he just noticed it today. We checked the guestroom bed, looked to see if it had been put into the pillow shams, dug around in the linen closet. Gone.

There is a black hole in this house.  Watch your step.

Ay! Carumba!

14 May

When I make macaroni and cheese, I always use 1/3 pepper jack and 2/3 sharp cheddar.  I also use half the amount of pasta and toss in a package of frozen cauliflower.  I have always called it “Mexican Mac and Cheese” because it is mildly spicy and the cauliflower gives it an unfamiliar texture. But it’s good.

Last week, Aldi’s had some cheese called “Mango Fire” in the same bin with the pepper jack. “Mangos, huh? How spicy can that be?” Well, let me tell you, that stuff will just about clear your sinuses. I took it to a covered dish supper over the weekend, and warned people that is had a kick to it.

I didn’t have any leftovers.

Speaking in Tongues

9 May

Way back when we only had eight grandchildren, I made each of the kids a sign with their name on it for Christmas. But I had written it in English in the center, and then surrounded the English with as many other alphabets as I could manage. I sounded out the names in Cherokee, our exchange student wrote them in Arabic, and our church organist has her students’ parents write the names in Korean, Chinese, Hindi, and Japanese.  There was one other, but I forget what it was.

Now we have nine grandchildren, several great-grandkids, and both of my nephews also have children, plus some close friends are about to become grandparents, so I decided it was time to get moving on another set of plaques.

I made up the English, and did the Cherokee, and the druggist had agreed to write out the names in Arabic for me. I dropped off the signs on Wednesday, and he suggested I come back for them today, as he would not be in on Thursday, but the druggist on duty that day is Jewish, and he would ask Mike to do them in Hebrew.

When I went to get them today, the druggist was very upset to admit he’d left them on his desk when he went home Wednesday night, but – in addition to Arabic, he also spoke Urdu, so he “would make it up to me” by putting both names on the plaques.  I’ll pick them up tomorrow.

One family at church is from India, and the mom said she would do them in Hindi for me. Another woman in the congregation – an Army brat – speaks Japanese, and she said she’d do them for me, and the lady who does my nails is from Thailand.

I think we’re good to go!