Dandelion

Eleanor in suckle mode. It's odd and sweet. Weaned too soon, I suspect. Moby will knead, but not suckle. So, I let her find comfort, and take care of her inner kitten.


Ok,honestly, I know nothing about wine. Sips of it at gatherings when I was a child, occasionally at mass, when it was free in college, the odd reception. Never liked it, it was simply a free source for alcohol.

We were wondering today, seeing all the dandelions blooming away in the neighborhood, how dandelion wine is made. Looked it up, and it's the blossoms (their term) with a ton of sugar, an orange, yeast, and the alarming final line. "Age the wine at least a week for best flavor."

Um. Again, not into wine. But a week? Does this imply, it really doesn't get better, so down it now?

Harsh night, ill in the morning. Had a bit more beer than usual last night, not much, but following a week of intermittent nutrition, perhaps unwise. A bit of food, then a bit more, and feeling fine. We got out. Replaced several halogen(ptttui) bulbs with LEDs. Got a few useful things from a moving sale. Dylan made stew, which was wonderfully spicy and hearty.

Winds kicking up, all sorts of warnings. Downslope winds, we are on the southern edge of the predicted area. Rains of seeds whirling around, then stillness.

Complaint

If you got a problem, don't care what it is
If you need a hand, I can assure you this
I can help, I got two strong arms
I can help
It would sure do me good, to do you good
Let me help

(Billy Swan)


My father always complained that I never let him help me. That I was MissIndependent (like that's a bad thing.) Thing is, his help wasn't help. He was intrusive and manipulative, and none too bright. He only wanted it to make himself feel good, that it wasn't anything I wanted never occurred to him. Nor did I want to be any more beholden to him than I already seemed to be. He thought this was why I had no friends, not letting people help me. Which only solidified me in my rejection of his offers (demands.)

This song always hits that button. Reading the lyrics clearly for the first time, it's worse than I thought.


My father also complained that anything he told me, I wouldn't do. Well, yeah. I didn't like him, so I considered his approval to be an insult, his taste a guide to what to disdain. He never wanted to give me what I wanted, only what he wanted to give. Bastard. Strings strangled his self described 'generosity.'


One of our skeezier street folks told me he would clear away all that stuff, the verge I've cleared of weeds last year, and have planted this year. Yeah, I could hire him to destroy all my work. Piece of shit don't like my garden. Rather a compliment, looked at properly.

This can be the problem with giving, it's insulting and selfish. When given by the wrong person.

Sorry, this is all pretty negative. I'll do better tomorrow.

Sitting here, saw someone stop in front. So I went to see if they were up to "no good." No, apparently, just admiring the front garden.

oh.

Neglected

Cold April winds, Dylan failed to wear his warmer jacket, which wound up with a cat on it. Moby knows what he looks good on.


Short day, two cancelled cases, then one back on. Had to do tedious cleaning tasks, but I also got rid of long unused computer crap in a cabinet. CDs, and we haven't done those in a couple of years now. A disused mouse and keyboard, and a bunch of cables. So, I put 'em in a box and delivered them to the charge nurse who can pass them on for discard or dispersement.

Home in time to make catsoup.

Apparently I tracked in garden mud, again, and neglected to sweep it yesterday. Possibly this morning leftovers on my shoes. Tis the season.

Lighting

Various gouts of loud rain through the night, which I find immensely soothing. Some sleep accomplished, despite congestion and coughing, I won't say by whom. Got out and turned compost, dug and weeded, too much. Too damp to paint, or apply filler in gaps. This weekend.

Also ran to the larger hardwaremart - found socket/base and brown electrical cord,then the smaller local hardware store that we'd already checked for the socket, instead got a dimmer and screws.



Various elements, some new, some old. The box is for the dimmer switch, came from a yard sale and has been used for many years to hold incense sticks. It will have holes drilled and knobs attached, and find it's place on the wall. The bracket came on House, heavily painted and neglected, now stripped and burnished. It held a bulb, wobbly, on the outside back porch. Which is not where the original back porch was, we think. Dylan excited for this home-grown steam-punk project. He's planning to use an old guitar knob for the dimmer.

Wondering if I should finish the cast iron in some way. Inside, it won't rust, and I don't want to do anything cheesy. But maybe I should lacquer it? Rub oil on it? Not sure I need do anything, but I want to get this right. Likewise with the box, wondering if I should at least put on tung oil. Time, we got. No rush.

The bulb is LED, made to look like an original Edison-type bulb. Oh, the irony. House is all excited, eager to both express herself and be hip and thrifty.

We are going to mount it to the living room door frame into the Music Room*. Finally get rid of the abandoned ikkeah lamp that has nevertheless done admirable service, despite the inelegant design. Abandoned Lamp will no doubt find a corner to be Useful yet.


Addendum: Can't seem to stop myself, dug some more and put in bee balm (bergamot) that I just happened to find while looking for it at the nursery.




*Yes, we really do call it that. Like the Cat Exclusion Device to the basement, we use all the words. All The Time.

Unknown

Pouring rain today,
washes and washes of wet.
Green flourishing green.


Reminded of taking neurotin for my back injury many years ago, now. Coming up on eight years ago, at the worst. Not warned to just stop taking it, but to taper, so I stopped on a dime, and it didn't go well. Which was at least a good warning to stay away from narcotics completely. My back now is as better as it was going to be, given my work and such. No more electrical zings, anyway.

Reminded also of signing on the house, the day before one of my hand surgeons gave me a cortisone shot for my thumb. I was up, up, up for 36 or so hours, could not sleep at all. The shot no doubt kept me awake, but perhaps so did the occasion of laying so much on our future in ink. (Funny, the night before we got legally wed, I had not a single qualm, but then I also had the flu.)

Dylan finally coming out the other side of his virus. Still congested, but a day off to rest helped him get ahead of the bugges. We hope to get to the hardware store in the morning. To find lamp bits for the House's old outside light fixture, that will become an inside fixture. Beautiful old decorative cast iron, deserves a new life in the warm and dry.

Love this creature, the maned wolf, that is not a wolf, nor a fox, and has no known relatives, living or extinct. Chrysocyon.



Via TYWKIWDBI.

Bathing

Bathing beside each other. Gotta be a good sign.

Weeded significantly.

Colours

Yeah, way too many different colors. Hated that dull muddy green. The red on the black columns was to both brighten and stabilize, as the paint was pretty much peeled off the front. I don't plan to paint the brick, gradually getting the black and mud-green covered, which is taking time. My first priority was paint loss areas.

I think all the wood will become monet green, in time. Lots of time.

Minimal

Thyme moving on. I'll have to plant something where it's migrated away. Not sure what.



Strawberries and lettuce looking fine. Warned that mice will destroy strawberries, I've started using lemon balm mint around the bed to keep mousies away. Eleanor got another mouse last night. I praised her and gave her treats, which are hopefully better tasting. This is the second one in less than a month. She is quite the killer.

Weeded, chatted with Spike&Mike. The low income apartment across the street had an "unattended death" this week. Mike figured, since they removed a dog, and (presumably) a cat in a carrier, police present and solemn. I found a note on the crime map the slcpd keeps. I'll never hear further, I'm sure. I'm used to this in my work. Once in a great while I will hear back, or get a patient again. Always figure if I don't hear, it more or less worked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



When he doesn't sleep, waking snotty and coughing, I wake up as well. My instincts and my training kick in, and I do what I can. Even if it's only to be vaguely aware. He's always been an adult, takes care of himself, so I wait for need. Avoiding parenting mode, easy enough for me since I've never felt those impulses. But a scrub nurse anticipates and readies supplies. Poor guy, he just can't shake this bugger. I realize how much he really does do around here, which he hasn't been up to this week. I do appreciate, and I'm struggling to take up the slack.

Knew he was searching for a tissue, and while still mostly asleep, I grabbed one from my side and passed it to him, as I would a clamp for a surgeon who'd found a bleeder. Heard Moby on him, then his particularly exasperated sigh as he got up, "There is sliced turkey in the fridge" which I knew would satisfy the cat and not frustrate the guy. Was I awake? Only sorta.

Doing the least I can get away with. Dylan's parents bringing dinner by this evening. I cleaned up just enough to be acceptable. When we were in Saudi, one of the sections of our hospital unit was Minimal Care. In civilian terms, ambulatory patients who aren't ready to return to work, or home. In this case, barracks or active duty.

So they had a sign.

Minimal Care.

We Care. Minimally.



That's about where I am right now.

When I drove in last evening, I noticed how bright the house looks. Thinking I'd better either tone down the red on the front, or paint it Monet as well. Once I get the door frame that color, I will decide.



Your opinions are welcome.

Passover

A much better day. Although Dylan still plagued by a viral infection of some sort. He's usually more resistant, shakes off colds in a few days. Not this time. Oddly, I have not caught it, also odd. Presumably, I've already had this one. Well, I have had 'em all.

Very interesting parallels with Wallace. I remember my mother hated Wallace, back when Democrats were bigoted assholes. Perhaps we will resist the upheaval, and go on leaving some hatred behind.

Cheered by the idea of Tubman on the $20. Had to look up the musical Hamilton, found an interview on Sunday Morning. (Go Mo Rocca!) Looks very appealing.

Dust kicking up, cold front barreling toward us, with lots of rain.

22 Apr 5:54 pm 79˚F SSW 29G40

Catsoup cooking in the crockpot. All is right in the house.

Monet

Still need to remove tape, tidy up, but I love how much brighter it is. The hue? Monet's Garden. Dunno why exactly, but ok.

Addendum:

Duel

Bulbs

Eleanor's new sweetheart brought magnets, and poetry, for our fridge. Very sweet. I do prefer Crow's art, though.

This is one of the neighbor's chickens. Between the garages.




Looking at the back porch fixture that we removed long ago, again I want to do something with it. Aside from use it to hang up christmas stockings. We came across LED bulbs made to look like old filament bulbs. These two ideas may come together.

Details

Continued taping and caulking. Watching everyone walking by reflected in the windows, voices as well. Dog Spike stopped Human Mike, waiting for me to come pet him. Apparently some backrubs are worth a little extra effort. Since I could see him behind me, it wasn't a long wait.


Sun bright and warmer, although the winds are still April winds. The yard waste bin tipped all it's collected water out, presumably the soil beneath softened too much. Hoping to have proper rain barrels in the next week or so.

Got some video of our cats wrestling, working on getting it so I can show it to you.

The comic book guys came by on Friday. One is a full on cat-guy, brought Eleanor catnip, which worked nicely. She let him ruffle all her fur. Moby stayed on the chair under the table in the dining room, only coming out after they were all gone. A new (to me) guy showed up, not a fan of superheroes, so I could offer him some recommendations, as I share his aversion. (Maus and Usagi Yojimbo, added to his liking of Persepolis.)

Elegance

Mint and strawberries doing well after several days of rain, not minding the cool weather, nor the bitter winds of April. More warmth on the way, which I anticipate with both joy and anxiety.


Elegant Eleanor.


"Eh, leave me be."


"I like it here. It's private."



Conservation in the form of an LED bulb for the fridge. And my work compost bin. I work with a bunch of recyclers, so it gathers a lot of coffee grounds and peels.




Turned the compost today, and it was hot. Steaming away in the middle. Neighbor's chickens were visiting this afternoon. Funny wigs they were wearing. They are welcome, they eat bugges and leave nutrients in the form of shit, not to mention they are comical. I told them to make themselves at home.

Kinda like this.



Local marathon route nearly stranded us, only one path out, otherwise surrounded. I would have liked to have gotten out early, but... wasn't happening. Later, two men in running gear stopped, one picked up something from near the triangular bed, looked up at me standing on the porch, and balanced the rock on the cairn. I smiled and gave them a thumbs up, they waved and walked on. Strange, but fine.

Mike and dog Spike came by, I petted Spike. A guy with a shaved head but for two braids, scraped his shoe on the wood sleeper, walked on. As I weeded, he came back. I said "good morning" he asked if I wanted any bread. He had a couple of bags of baked goods. I said, "I'm good, but thanks." He walked on. Another odd moment. I've learned casual friendliness. You never know when you might need a familiar face, after all. Making friends of the street folks, to be a decent person first of all, then to have them see me as respectful, could be important. I'm learning.



Restless day, couldn't settle to anything. Weeded intermittently, put in buckwheat where the weeds were. Can't take something out without replacing it. Weeds are sturdy and persistent, filling gaps. Keeping ahead of them is challenging.

Analyze

I've got a work compost collection, mostly orange and avocado peels and coffee grounds. I rinse it out after I dump it in back, and pour the old coffee that inevitably sticks, into my own countertop compost...bin, that, yeah, I know, what can I say. As I'm rinsing, Dylan hugs me, and says, "it smells like break-room."

For a second I thought he meant me, but no, just the odor of old coffee from the container. He explains that his parents didn't drink coffee, nor did any of his friend's parents, so his exposure to coffee was through work, and neglected staff rooms.

For me, old coffee grounds smell like Uncle Milton, who rarely if ever spent an hour without a cigarette and a cup of joe, one in each hand. Sometimes both in one, or both in both. Old fashioned chain smoker, and would cradle a coffee mug in both hands. Even after he quit, the basement would smell of cigarette smoke regularly. Old coffee grounds reek of nicotine.

My father would pour hot coffee on shredded wheat, the stench reminiscent of wet dog, and put me off ever enjoying even the aroma of coffee. Nevermind actually drinking the swill. Could have used a taste for it in the army, but no dice, no soap, not a chance.

Taking the grounds for compost, which smells pleasantly earthy to me, has transformed in my nose from something awful to the odor of garden. Well, this is what composting is best at.

Strong Language is still an amazing site. This week an astonishingly Not even close to safe for work (NECTSFW) video, Woman Up and... well, you'll just have to see for yourself, if you've a mind to. Quite musical, and brilliant. Not for the faint of ear.

Patience

Still can't pick up Eleanor. Sometimes when we come home, she looks at me through the window as if to say, 'Who are you?' Moby completely chill, unless he's doing Ninja-Kitty. But nothing we do bothers him any other time.

"Have patience, it only takes about ten years to completely earn a cat's trust."
-Felines of New York.

Found a Fresh Air interview with Shugs&Fats. Woman's version of Key & Peele, more or less.


Wetter weather dribbling in slowly. Could use a few all-day rains, but those are uncommon here.

Got home early yesterday, after being late Monday. This is what the OR is like. Even stopping to help a nurse well known for getting himself in a tizzy, because the procedure room cases weren't open, and he was in a panic. He's not an OR nurse, but they are doing cases a step above office, not really needing a full OR, local anesthetic, so no anesthesiologists, with him charting, an assistant from the surgeon's office, and the surgeon. Nurse Tizzy working himself up because the assistant only comes down with the surgeon, instead of coming down early to get all the supplies ready.

I tell him, "Just make a pile, no sweat."

That I also know that surgeon's preferences so well helped. I completely took over opening, "I got this, it's fine" placing everything as clearly as possible.

These are very small cases, I could open all three, slowly, in less than ten minutes. He remarked at how tidy I made it look. I think my nonchalance rubbed off a bit, being purposefully slow, deliberate, just to get him to calm down. He's been known to be a bit dismissive of the need for actual OR trained people, now he's beginning to see we have a lot more value. He was touchingly grateful to me for a very simple task.

Started on the other front windows today. Stripped and caulked. May well tape and paint over the weekend. Tending my seeds and turning the compost.

Thataway

Grace

So much to do, so little done.

I dug, started seeds, weeded, pulled up all the little pavers, killed the ant nest and extracted buffalo grass. Not a long job, but complete. Weed cloth is pretty much useless, btw.

Still staring at the other front window, need to scrape and (likely) caulk, remove the tacked on screen (that Eleanor loves) to clean the window, and paint. Want the bright paint, but there are so many steps to take first.

Tending my poor hands, one gashed one bruised both dry. Skin is uncooperative these days.

Everything promising to be lovely and green, soon, honestly. Reminding myself it's only April, early April. Onions fine and dandy.

Allergies afflicting Dylan. Mine will kick in after his are done, if the pattern holds. Spring is such a mixed blessing.

Started the soaked seeds on the porch, will cover or bring inside with threat of frost. Lavender, petunias, cilantro. Weeded and watered and tended. Back garden restricted, but with more sun, I can adjust. Another month before I can add tomatoes, jalapeños, pepperoncini. Poppy looking threatening already. Scarlet flax coming up all over. Watching the woodlouse spider, daring jumping spider, ants and roly-poly bugs, earwigs and lovely worms. Evicted a hovering wasp wanting to move into the bamboo chimes. A bit of peppermint, and it decided the neighborhood stank, and looked elsewhere.

Assisted our neighbors in putting up a fence for a critical moment yesterday. Nearly tripped on their tools. Apologized and explained that I am a "klutz." Well, there is some truth there, but actually I have a dancer's grace, which shows as clumsiness in cluttered, tight places. Give me an empty floor, and I'll fill it will lovely movements.

My brothers called me "uncoordinated kid" and "klutz." Dance training does tend to foster the sense of throwing oneself into spaces, so falls and injuries are more likely. Realized how deep that label goes into myself, log hammered* in. Smuggled it's way past my expungings, carrying just enough truth. I'm not clumsy, I'm just occasionally over enthusiastic. Or unfortunate.

No, I am full of grace.

*While the logs were still in the forest the chaser (a member of the skidder crew) would wack each end of every log with a heavy branding hammer, denoting ownership.

These log stamps compressed the grain of the tree for a metre or more up the log. This means that if a beachcomber illegally tried to cut the ends off the logs, the brand would still be visible†.

†Learned this watching The Beachcombers.

Mesh

Warm afternoon, open windows, Eleanor pressed to the screen.

Appetite

Cats relax.



Stones fall down, I stack 'em up again.



Moby stalks the tall grasses. Eleanor caught a mouse this week. I took it away and gave her treats. Then she wanted food. And kibbles. Then horked it all up. But I praised her mousing all the way.



Soaking old seeds for future planting. Weeding the strawberries, added a wire mesh to keep birds from eating them all. Lettuce companions sprouting already.


Friday ran short for everyone, every room, so the idea of going out for beer floated up. I said 'maybe', stopped home. Dylan thought it a good idea, so we hopped on the bus and showed up. Eight of us total, beer was had, Dylan had a club soda (natch), chatting was done, and we wound up walking home. A nice little walk as it turned out. Good folks I work with, whatever my occasional complaints about them. People there take their jobs seriously, want it to be a safe place for our patients, and a good place to go if they or their family need it. Enlightened self interest.

We also bitched about the one new person who seems entirely out of place, lots of drama, pointedly won't listen to any of us, uncertain skill set, possibly insane. Hoping that gets resolved, but I keep my nose out unless I have a reportable concern. I'm prepared to document anything I can specify.

Dylan entertained by all of it.



Gardening this morning, found an irrigation spigot, attached to a significant length of pvc pipe. Well, damn. I thought I'd gotten it all out, but apparently not. So I dug and dug and dug, until I could get it out. No wonder nothing much would grow along that edge, save stubborn weeds. Amended the stretch, and will plant petunias and parsley, after the old seeds have had a chance to soak another day.

Pease are looking hopeful. Watching the sky for potential rains. Waiting for rain barrels. Cats gorging themselves this week, liking my cooking especially well. Spring appetite, I assume.