Tag Archives: The Squire

It’s Going to Get Worse …

20 Apr

…before it gets better.

Apparently, getting the guest room finished and the workshop started has set off some primal urge in The Squire. He actually asked me to post on Freecycle that he had a bunch of scrap lumber to dispose of. Now, mind you, I am married to the Scrap Lumber King of Greater Downtown Bradshaw, so this was quite an ordeal.

I did not expect anybody to be foolish enough to lug this stuff away, but we had several responses, including one man who wanted the 2 x 4s to build a treehouse/fort for his child, and another man who was willing to take everything The Squire was willing to part with. We gave Chris everything we thought was appropriate, but then the “fort” man was a no-show, so Chris is coming back sometime after the weekend to clean us out.

While he and The Squire were in the barn, my husband discovered that one of the bad storms we had a few weeks ago (Oh, heck. It could have been a few years ago, for all I know.) had carried water under the barn door, across the floor, and out the other side. Lovely. I still haven’t cleared all of my mum’s boxes,  some of which were stacked on the floor, and obviously had gotten soaked. I mean, she’s only been gone since 2011; what’s the rush? She doesn’t need any of that stuff anymore.

Today, The Squire brought down – at my request – three boxes for me to  empty. One was a box of plain old junk, most of it from either her desk or my dad’s. Who wraps and packages a collection of old pencils? Another was a box of glassware from the dining room – a mixed collection of Spode, antique cut glass, and pressed glass from a chain store.

What I really don’t understand is how three boxes of items wrapped in newspaper can leave behind six boxes of newspaper and peanuts, after you remove half the contents.

And then, there was this prize, from November 1958. Apparently, my “Famous Model” phase started earlier than I thought. Now, honestly, would you think these two people were related, never mind siblings?

L&E 1958

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Hide and Seek in The Bedroom

17 Apr

A year or more ago, I mentioned that one of my pillow cases had disappeared someplace between the linen closet and the bedroom. The Squire has been complaining that his special pillow was missing. He’d spend what I considered an inordinate amount of money on a flatish pillow for me, and a practically-sleeping-sitting-up one for himself, and it was gooone!

Last night, being Saturday, I stripped and remade our bed, and decided to switch from the winter weight quilt to the lighter one for summer, which of course also meant changing around the pillow shams. I don’t bother to put our “real” pillows in the shams; I just use a old ratty pillow that nobody wants to sleep on.  I prop them up against the pillows we actually use, so the bed looks finished.

So – when I removed one of the shams, there was The Squire’s extra firm pillow in the missing pillow case!

He, of course, knows nothing about this, but if it happened before breakfast today, he wouldn’t.

He’s cute, and I love him.  And that’s all that matters.

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Odds and Ends

10 Apr

Yesterday, The Squire and I spent most of our time ironing curtains and dust ruffles(me) and shortening and painting doors (him).

When I was working on the altar on Friday, I looked at the wrong chart and didn’t think we had flowers for Sunday, but later, while I was chatting with the secretary, I noticed the bulletin that we did indeed have flowers. In my panic I thought it was Saturday, but it was – thank Heaven! – only Friday, so I grabbed the liners and hustled up to the florist. I went up Saturday morning to collect the flowers, and then swung by church to put them on the side tables. I’d taken Blazer with me – I’ve developed a real phobia about driving alone – and he went into church with me. He has been trained not to go onto the chancel steps, but he wanders around and inspects things.

The Cub Scouts were having an indoor carnival and he went over and put his nose against the glass in the narthex doors. I could hear the boys yelling, “The dog is back! The dog is back!” so of course we had to go in and see what was going on over there. The Cubs normally meet on Monday nights and I used to go to knitting on Mondays, so Blazer was quite a popular figure over there. He wandered around, getting head scratches and belly rubs, and then we came on home.

When I got back, The Squire said he’s been painting on the front porch when a squirrel came up to the door, looked at him, looked at the seed bin, and then over his shoulder. The critter did this a couple of times, and then stood up, put his paws on the glass and started giving The Squire a real talking-to. “Table five is completely out of seed. The service in this place is dreadful. What does a squirrel have to do to get waited on around here?” The Squire got a scoop of seed and opened the door; he said the animal only went about six feet, and as soon as the seed hit the ground, he was on it. He didn’t even wait for the door to close!

About 4:00 or so,  my girlfriend and her husband (or, as The Squire phrases it, my boyfriend and his wife) swung by to ask if I wanted to ride to Costco with them. Why not? The Squire needed sodas and I was completely out of yeast, so I went along. I also picked up some Lutein for him and a bag of dried figs for myself. Managed to get out of the store for under $40.

 

 

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Almost There!

8 Apr

The installation company said they would besewing room here between 8 and 10 this morning. The truck pulled into the drive at 7:55! Neither The Squire nor I were in any condition to receive visitors; he was in his BVDs and I hadn’t brushed my teeth or put on my “hat”, let along get out of my housecoat. You should have seen us scurry!

There was only one poor young man to do all the work, so The Squire lent a hand, as I had to go to church to do Altar Guild stuff. Heaven only knows how Lowe’s expected Israel (that was the fellow’s name) to lug a twelve foot wide roll of carpet through the house and up the stairs without help. He and The Squire apparently had quite an interesting conversation while they were working.  He said he had left Mexico because it is too dangerous to live there any more. The cartels come and tell you that you are going to work for them, or join the police force so they will have an “in” if they get arrested. If you refuse, they shoot you. “After I lost a second amigo, I decided to get out while I was still alive.” Makes Cleveland look like Paradise.

So, we have moved the bed, dresser, and my sewing machine back into the room. The walls are painted a colour called Artichoke, and the rug is a light silvery grey. We still have to hang the curtains, etc. but we can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I don’t think it’s an on-coming train. The bookcases are to be delivered on Monday.

Next week, we hit the back room, defrosting the freezer and reorganizing the pantry. I had stocked up on canned goods in September in case we had a bad winter and the power went out, so I need to pack up those things to take to the food pantry, and then make space in the freezer for veggies and such.  The Squire mentioned in passing cleaning off the work bench back there (Not the workshop upstairs; that’s another nightmare.) but I’m letting that bear sleep.

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How to Drive Your Wife Crazy

5 Apr

Right now, we do not have any carpet in the TV room (I believe I may have mentioned this before once or twice.), and you’d be amazed at how sound travels in an empty space.

The Squire has a habit of drumming his fingers while he watches TV. I didn’t notice this when we still had an upholstered love seat in that room, but now he is using the recliner that belongs in our bedroom. The ends of the arms are bare wood, as are the legs; he has actually worn the finish off the right arm, tapping his fingers on it. The sound travels through the chair arms and down the legs and through the bare floor, echoes under the ceiling tiles in the dining room, until it reaches my ears, and drives me nuts!

It’s like Chinese water torture.

I must love him; I haven’t killed him.

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Amateur Hour

3 Apr

Doubting Thomas

We have finally gotten all of the painting squared away, and went down to Lowe’s last Monday to select the carpeting for the guest room. I’ll tell you, if ever there was an outfit where the left hand didn’t know what the right hand was doing, this is the place. We looked over several selections, and then paid a deposit to take home a board of samples. We had gotten a “guesstament” from the salesman, and he had told us we could simply call the store and make the deposit on the carpet over the phone.

Nothing doing. The woman at the desk said we had to come in and do it in person. “We’re not allowed to take credit card information over the phone.” Since The Squire was going in that direction on Thursday anyway, he stopped and took care of it. We went back on Friday evening to settle things, and arrange for somebody to come measure the room. When the man came, he was quite pleased that the tacking strips were still in place from the previous carpet, which he said would save us some money. I pointed out that we simply did not have space to move the TV, but if the installers would do the upper part of the room, my husband and I would move the set ourselves to that side, while the men did the lower part. OK.

When we went in to sign the final contract, we were being charged both $75 for tacking strips and $50 to move the TV.  Needless to say, The Squire was not pleased. We had also received a $25 gift certificate in the mail, but we were told it could only be used for merchandize; it couldn’t be used to pay on a contract. Well, the contract was for merchandize, but that didn’t fly. It ended up with the manager giving us a new $25 gift card to spend on whatever we wished, and he “discounted” the contract by $25.

Yeesh. The Squire was ready to go to Home Depot, but that would have meant starting all over, with no guarantee things would be any better.

Things at church have been a bit confusing. (What else is new?) I was under the impression that one person was doing the Rota, and it was another person entirely. Since people still come to me with questions, I’m sort of caught in the middle. We have not had a newsletter since last April, and the website is “wonky”, so quite often people don’t know they are on until the pick up the bulletin in the narthex.

Today, the person who  was to be crucifer became ill.  I was assigned to assist at the altar, so she called another member to carry the cross in the procession. The gal she called is the shortest woman in the congregation, and Dulcie simply isn’t capable of carrying that cross, so I said I’d do it if she’d take the altar for me. Fair enough, except that Dulcie had a sore throat and didn’t want to read the Epistle. OK, I’d read both the Psalm (part of the crucifer’s job) and then cross the sanctuary and do the Epistle. I had gotten as far as the altar when another member of the church came up to the lectern, and since she is also a reader I figured she was going to do it, so I turned around and returned to my seat.

Except that Christine wasn’t going to read; she had a question about the Power Point, and she turned to her seat at the same time I did. Of course, I had my back to her at that point, and didn’t know she’d left. By that stage of the game, Dulcie decided the Epistle was only a few verses, and she might as well do it. Do-si-do, and allemande right!

Amateur Hour. Has anybody here ever done this before?

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Surprise!

4 Mar

We woke up this morning to about an inch of snow! It’s been well above 40-F for the last few days, so it really didn’t amount to much, other than looking pretty on the trees and grass for a while. It was all gone by noon. Blazer thought it was lovely! The last snow we had was so deep he was buried, but this was just enough to “snovel” around and kick up his heels. Mind you, it’ll be Spring in two weeks, but the weather will do as it pleases.

Speaking of things doing as they please, Local Grandson called to tell us he and his wife are expecting a baby in early October. His mom’s birthday is the 5th, and that was the original due date, but now the doctor says it will probably be a bit later. I reminded him that babies, like the weather, and the economy, will do as they please. Apparently twins run in his wife’s family because he said he kept asking the doctor, “You’re sure there’s only one in there?” So now, we have four great-grandchildren, plus two-thirds and one-third.

Which doesn’t quite add up to a whole baby. Yet.

We’ve gotten two coats of paint on the ceiling, and it really looks good. We also put a coat on the trim.  I think that will look better done in gloss, but at least it has a base coat. I got some samples of green paint, and we sloshed those on the wall to see which one we liked best. The jury is still out on that. We have a lot more of that blasted textured paint to scrape off yet before we can get too involved in that part of the project.

The Structural Engineer recommended putting extra posts under the dormer, and The Squire took care of that Tuesday and Wednesday. Where there were three, there are now seven posts; I feel as if I’m looking through the bars of the Folsom County jail, and the dog has gotten his rope wrapped around them a couple of times, but the SE felt part of the problem with the wall under the window was the extra weight of the second floor, and this certainly ought to relieve that. The good news is that because all we are doing is making repairs and not new construction, we don’t need a permit. Thanks Be To God. This place wouldn’t pass any sort of inspection; there are no footers, and there’s not a square corner or level floor in the entire place.

The Squire had an MRI of his head a few days ago, and he spoke with the GP today. Apparently, he has an effusion of the mastoid on the right side. Haven’t a clue what that means, frankly, but MRI does show a lot of “stuff” on the right side of his head. He has an appointment with the ENT on the 17th, so maybe we’ll get some sort of answers. I told him he needed to look for zebras. If there’s something odd, either The Squire or I will have it.

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Sometimes…

26 Feb

Sometimes, “good news” is simply that things are going to hell in a handbasket at the slowest possible rate.

For years, we have been having trouble with the house settling, shifting, sinking, and generally acting as if it’s trying to quit on us. The Squire and I are trying to keep it upright until we are ourselves no longer in that position. There are at least six springs on the property and we have always assumed the problems were related to the ground settling. (It’s listed on the tax assessment as marsh land, which gives you an idea of what we’re dealing with.)

For quite a while, there has been a gap on the outside of the dining room between the bow window and the block wall, and it’s getting wider. Also, the entire dining room floor has been settling, until the side nearest the kitchen is about two inches lower than the side by the stairs. Yesterday, The Squire finally called in a mason to take a look at the mess. The man admitted it was beyond him, as he is a one-man operation, and suggested we contact a structural engineer. We called several, and they all want roughly $400 just to come out and take a look!

Anyway, the upchuck of it all is this – back in the mid-80s, The Squire’s nephew, whose reach frequently exceeded his grasp, helped us level the floors from one end of the house to the other – from the bow window to the fireplace, about 35 feet. When The Squire pulled up the corner of the floor this morning, he discovered that Ernie had not put hangers on the plate along the long wall, to attach the floor joists. They were just hanging in mid-air, and slowly sinking into the sunset. Repairing this will involve jacking up each individual joist, nailing hangers to the plate and setting the joists in place. Heaven know how many joists this involves. The problem with the bow window is that the wall directly under it is crumbling. That will obviously involve removing the window, repairing the damage, and replacing the window, and will have to wait until spring. At least it’s not the entire wall.

In the meantime, in addition to all the mess upstairs, everything had to be removed from the corner cupboard and piled on top of the table, adding to the general disaster area atmosphere around here. Contrary to what my normal housekeeping may lead you to believe, I do not handle chaos all that well. Clutter, yes. Chaos, no.

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Dummy!

15 Feb

The Squire, bless him, fixed dinner today, which involved cutting some carrots into very thin slices. I got out the “shooter” part of my Osterizer and started putting the carrots through the machine. They weren’t coming out the tube as quickly as I thought they should (in fact, I actually thought I had put the blade in upside down, which is impossible) so I stuck my hand up into the chute to pull the slices out.

Without turning off the machine.

As my dad used to say, “You can make a thing fool-proof, but not damned fool-proof.”

The underside of the cutting blade has two ribs on it, to push the slices down the chute, and I stuck my hand in far enough that one of the ribs caught my finger. The middle finger on my right hand is now deep purple, and someplace in the bowl of carrots is a fair-sized chunk of fingernail.

We will draw a curtain over the Discussion which followed.

This is a much older machine, the base of which accommodates a mixer, a blender, a food processor, and the aforementioned grater and slicer. Quite a handy gizmo, as long as you don’t put your fingers in it.

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The Snow Lay on the Ground…

3 Feb

…and the kids walked to school in shorts.

Capture

The ground here is still pretty much snow-covered, although it is melting very quickly (The high today was 55), and our pond is covered with “floating islands” of string algae.  Where the grass is poking through, it’s amazingly green for early February.

It rained today, which helped melt the snow, but it was incredibly foggy. We couldn’t see the barn or the street from the house. I have been fighting a cold, so The Squire went up to the Y by himself. I was supposed to be on the altar on Sunday, but stayed home from that, too. Nobody wants me sniffling and coughing all over the place.

I seldom get a cold, and when I do I take it as a personal insult. Really, other than a decongestant, there’s not a thing you can do, except treat it with the contempt it deserves, soldier on, and try not to contaminate other people.

The Squire and I were eating breakfast in the den this morning, and the cat kept reaching up and tapping the edge of the counter, waiting for The Squire to put some milk on his plate and set it down for him to drink. For some reason this gentle pat, pat, pat reminded me of an event that happened when I was still married to the Late and Unlamented.

I have slept flat on my back for most of my life, with one leg or the other pulled up like a flamingo. We had a cat who slept part of the night curled up in the “nest” of my knee. One morning, too early to get up, the baby cried, and I dashed across the hall to settle her back down and tried to get back into bed before Mr. Boh heard me moving around. Didn’t make it.

Just as I pulled the blankets up to my chin and closed my eyes, the cat jumped onto the bed and walked up to stare at my face. He went back to the bottom of the bed, and I could feel him sit down to contemplate the situation. Again, he walked up the side of the bed, but this time he gently, gently patted the side of my face. Again, I ignored him. Once again, Boh went down and I could just feel him staring at me. “I know I heard her moving around.” A third time, he tip-toed up the side of the bed – but this time, my husband sat up and yelled, “Dammit, she’s not awake yet!”

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