Heleen and I managed to wrestle her boyfriend's Monster Truck (diesel, 4-wheel drive, stick shift) down to Atlanta and back--leaving at 5:30 am and getting back to town around 9 pm. In between, we walked about 20 miles through IKEA, loaded 4 push-pallets with 14 boxes of shelving units (about 67 pounds per box), 15 lighting fixtures and bulbs, display hooks, racks, miscellaneous items like toilet brushes, watering can, S-hooks, and what has become known as "the big-ass clock."
Heleen fell in love with the largest clock on the planet--about 20" in diameter, analog, with numbers about 6" high. I told her it belonged in a lecture hall seating about 4oo people (where every cabbage-head student could watch it from 200 yards away), and I'd be waiting for the bell to ring everytime I looked at it. She was not deterred. She wanted that clock!
I was completely blown away by the lighting department. You have to understand that while I love having light, I despise most lighting fixtures. They are ALL ugly. They cost too much. IKEA's selection was a revelation. I loved almost every one I saw, (and the incredibly low prices!) and the hard part was deciding just how high we wanted our electric bill to go. We bought pole lamps, clamp-on spotlights, table lamps, giant suspended paper-shaded lanterns, and one surprise stunner we are saving for MaryAnn on opening day--it's about the size of the moon, and is covered in paper flowers. (Well, MaryAnn said I needed to get in touch with my whimsical side). It's my justification. Heleen and I are going to put it together this weekend, while M is out of town, attending the Artist-Formerly-Known-As-Prince concert in Greensboro, NC.
And then, there's the YARN! Boxes and boxes of color and texture. We ooh and ahh over every discovery. Then we buckle down and get it listed into the POS computer (that's "Point of Sale" for those of you who thought I was swearing).
It took two days to assemble all the gorgeous white cubicle shelving. Now, we're shoving the finished units around, trying to arrange them in a pleasing and organized manner. Heleen is busily sewing our partition fabric "walls," and I am shampooing rugs and furniture. I donated our original couch from the Vallejo house. I have good memories of that sofa--Bill slept on it with his legs hanging over the sides, we'd prop infant Alex up in the corner so Juli could play with her baby brother)--our first furniture purchase 27 years ago. It belongs in the yarn shop instead of the basement for another 27 years!
One week to go. Whatever will be, will be...
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
A Good Day
Today was super Sunday. I had planned to go to the shop to work (still sorting, labeling and hanging thousands of knitting needles), but then Bill got up and made me waffles and bacon. Yum! Perhaps I'd just putter about at home for a change?
I noodled around on the computer while drinking coffee, made new wills and set up a trust for Bill and myself, then took a shower, baked biscotti (folding laundry while waiting for the timer), and watched TV. I dipped the biscotti in chocolate (white & dark), put away my clean clothes, sorted my seeds, transplanted the asparagus and tomato seedlings outdoors, seeded chives and cilantro in pots, cleaned the AeroGrow and planted salad greens, sat in the sunshine and planted a seedling tray of cucumbers, eggplant, miniature peppers (the ones they sell for $4.00 a box in the grocery), tiny tomatoes and strawberries, (designed for hanging baskets), filled up 3 window boxes with dirt for lettuce, and put out my birdfeeder that Jean gave me for my birthday. I cleaned off the dining room table and spray-painted a display rack for the store. I made Bill some nachos and did all the mountains of dishes I had created with my morning adventures. Then I made a fresh mango salsa, cooked some brown jasmine rice in orange juice and added some tart dried cherries, sauted some chicken and opened a bottle of champagne. (I needed it for the chicken, and I had to make sure it was tasty, so I tested it by having a glass or two while I was cooking).
Sometimes, I swoon when tasting my own cooking. This was such a moment.
I ate two helpings, had another glass of champagne, and set the pots to soak in the sink.
I didn't worry about anything.
I did all these chores and still felt totally relaxed.
It is good to have a day "off."
I noodled around on the computer while drinking coffee, made new wills and set up a trust for Bill and myself, then took a shower, baked biscotti (folding laundry while waiting for the timer), and watched TV. I dipped the biscotti in chocolate (white & dark), put away my clean clothes, sorted my seeds, transplanted the asparagus and tomato seedlings outdoors, seeded chives and cilantro in pots, cleaned the AeroGrow and planted salad greens, sat in the sunshine and planted a seedling tray of cucumbers, eggplant, miniature peppers (the ones they sell for $4.00 a box in the grocery), tiny tomatoes and strawberries, (designed for hanging baskets), filled up 3 window boxes with dirt for lettuce, and put out my birdfeeder that Jean gave me for my birthday. I cleaned off the dining room table and spray-painted a display rack for the store. I made Bill some nachos and did all the mountains of dishes I had created with my morning adventures. Then I made a fresh mango salsa, cooked some brown jasmine rice in orange juice and added some tart dried cherries, sauted some chicken and opened a bottle of champagne. (I needed it for the chicken, and I had to make sure it was tasty, so I tested it by having a glass or two while I was cooking).
Sometimes, I swoon when tasting my own cooking. This was such a moment.
I ate two helpings, had another glass of champagne, and set the pots to soak in the sink.
I didn't worry about anything.
I did all these chores and still felt totally relaxed.
It is good to have a day "off."
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Home - On the Road - Home
Bill came home, dragging a cold from his 30-hours in the clutches of the airlines. On Sunday, I deemed him well enough for a quick trip up to Illinois to see how his father was doing. We threw our stuff and the dog in the car, made some ham sandwiches, and hit the road.
We arrived in Illinois around 8 pm, and marvelled at just how COLD the change in latitude made life difficult. It is still winter up there. Bill's dad is terribly thin now, unable to eat any solid food, living on three cans of Ensure per day, and very difficult to understand, as his jaw tumor has distorted his facial features to the point where he cannot enunciate his words coherently. It has to be very frustrating to him, as it is very painful for him to speak -- to go to that effort and not be understood is maddening.
Bill was able to do one nice thing for his father -- get his motor scooter out of winter storage and ride it back to the apartment, so that when warm weather finally comes, he'll be able to go out and ride it. In order to do this, Bill dressed in about 3 layers of clothing and stuck his dad's car floor mats under his shirt for a windbreak. Dad can no longer play the accordion, so he now has an electronic keyboard for entertainment. That and his motor scooter are about the only things he can enjoy in his life right now. Surprisingly, he is cheerful and indefatigable through all of this.
We celebrated my birthday by driving towards home on a gloomy, rainy day. We stopped in Evansville, IN to see LST 325, one of the last surviving LSTs from WWII. We happily scrambled up and down ladders, stepped through watertight doors and explored the ship. Amazingly, 170 of these ships were built in Evansville during the war, but they were not meant to last -- the outer hull is only 3/8" thick steel, and the decks that held 22 Sherman tanks are only 1/4" thick. The flat hull, perfect for running equipment up on beaches, made for what must have been a terrifying rolling voyage across the ocean. This particular ship was found in Greece, and sailed back by U.S. veterans across the Atlantic, before putting into the Mobile, AL shipyard for refurbishing. Amazing!
We then tooled down the road to Cousin Jean's, and went to Holly Hill Inn for dinner. It was "Tapas Tuesday," at the restaurant, so we dined on plates of mussels, pate, olives, almonds, stuffed eggs, croquettes, a divine pot roast, garlic potatoes, all accompanied by various wines. The winemaker stopped by our table to chat, and we found out she had gone to California Maritime Academy for a year (about 10 years after Bill attended) before transferring to UC Davis to become a winemaker. The pastry chef whipped up an impromptu dessert of lemon mousse on sponge cake, topped with a raspberry coulis. Wow. A great birthday dinner!
We arrived home yesterday, and after unloading the car, the three of us napped on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. I had about 47 birthday emails, which cheered me to no end.
Now it's time to get back to work. Back to the shop today to finish up some painting and make more decisions. Time is getting very short now, and the partners are all in a low-grade panic. Me? I'm confident we'll get done what we need to get done, and all will be well. I just want to open the doors and get started!
We arrived in Illinois around 8 pm, and marvelled at just how COLD the change in latitude made life difficult. It is still winter up there. Bill's dad is terribly thin now, unable to eat any solid food, living on three cans of Ensure per day, and very difficult to understand, as his jaw tumor has distorted his facial features to the point where he cannot enunciate his words coherently. It has to be very frustrating to him, as it is very painful for him to speak -- to go to that effort and not be understood is maddening.
Bill was able to do one nice thing for his father -- get his motor scooter out of winter storage and ride it back to the apartment, so that when warm weather finally comes, he'll be able to go out and ride it. In order to do this, Bill dressed in about 3 layers of clothing and stuck his dad's car floor mats under his shirt for a windbreak. Dad can no longer play the accordion, so he now has an electronic keyboard for entertainment. That and his motor scooter are about the only things he can enjoy in his life right now. Surprisingly, he is cheerful and indefatigable through all of this.
We celebrated my birthday by driving towards home on a gloomy, rainy day. We stopped in Evansville, IN to see LST 325, one of the last surviving LSTs from WWII. We happily scrambled up and down ladders, stepped through watertight doors and explored the ship. Amazingly, 170 of these ships were built in Evansville during the war, but they were not meant to last -- the outer hull is only 3/8" thick steel, and the decks that held 22 Sherman tanks are only 1/4" thick. The flat hull, perfect for running equipment up on beaches, made for what must have been a terrifying rolling voyage across the ocean. This particular ship was found in Greece, and sailed back by U.S. veterans across the Atlantic, before putting into the Mobile, AL shipyard for refurbishing. Amazing!
We then tooled down the road to Cousin Jean's, and went to Holly Hill Inn for dinner. It was "Tapas Tuesday," at the restaurant, so we dined on plates of mussels, pate, olives, almonds, stuffed eggs, croquettes, a divine pot roast, garlic potatoes, all accompanied by various wines. The winemaker stopped by our table to chat, and we found out she had gone to California Maritime Academy for a year (about 10 years after Bill attended) before transferring to UC Davis to become a winemaker. The pastry chef whipped up an impromptu dessert of lemon mousse on sponge cake, topped with a raspberry coulis. Wow. A great birthday dinner!
We arrived home yesterday, and after unloading the car, the three of us napped on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. I had about 47 birthday emails, which cheered me to no end.
Now it's time to get back to work. Back to the shop today to finish up some painting and make more decisions. Time is getting very short now, and the partners are all in a low-grade panic. Me? I'm confident we'll get done what we need to get done, and all will be well. I just want to open the doors and get started!
Monday, March 7, 2011
Guess Who's Coming to Breakfast
...and to what do my wandering eyes appear? Yes, it's long-lost Harry, sitting calmly on the porch, waiting for breakfast! He seemed genuinely happy to see us, racing around the house, stealing Ozzie's toys and gobbling down his kibble.
Then he went out, and hasn't come back.
I am feeling a little like a fair-weather friend here. Oh sure, pop in for a visit and then disappear again. Today was the very day I was going to move the crate down to the basement, sure at last that Harry wasn't coming back. Now he's got me on tinderhooks, waiting for his call. Sheesh.
Bill is due in tomorrow night, after a grueling 26 hours of travel from Singapore-Toyko-Atlanta-Tri-Cities. Luckily, he will be coming in just in time for a light dinner and sleep, all the better to get him started on an Eastern Time Zone schedule. I have a list a mile long for work to be done at the shop. I should let him sleep first, though.
What am I to do with these wandering men?
Then he went out, and hasn't come back.
I am feeling a little like a fair-weather friend here. Oh sure, pop in for a visit and then disappear again. Today was the very day I was going to move the crate down to the basement, sure at last that Harry wasn't coming back. Now he's got me on tinderhooks, waiting for his call. Sheesh.
Bill is due in tomorrow night, after a grueling 26 hours of travel from Singapore-Toyko-Atlanta-Tri-Cities. Luckily, he will be coming in just in time for a light dinner and sleep, all the better to get him started on an Eastern Time Zone schedule. I have a list a mile long for work to be done at the shop. I should let him sleep first, though.
What am I to do with these wandering men?
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Country Music
I can always tell when it's time for Bill to come home. I find myself turning off the politics radio and switching over to twangy ballads of heartache and loneliness, toe-tappin' bar songs about strong women and manly men, songs of betrayal, regret, patriotism, arson, double-wide trailers, homesickness, muddy rivers, barbeque, huntin' dogs...well, you get the idea.
Country music covers the whole spectrum of real life, from the humdrum to the profound. Country also has a welcome sense of self-deprecating humor. Hence, the lyrics to "the best country song ever written":
I was drunk the day my mama got out of prison
And I went to pick her up in the rain
But before I could get to the station in my pickup truck
She got run over by a God-derned train...
You just can't beat country music for keeping you company in your yearning times. So, now the radios in both the cars are tuned properly, and I want my husband to come home. While this business is always "hurry up and wait," Bill says that he should be on a flight next week.
The other sure bellweather is that Bill's flight will arrive on the absolutely most inconvenient day and time. Next week is full of appointments and "must do" errands. So I'm guessing Tuesday or Thursday, since those days are already shaping up to be long and tiring.
So, come on home, darlin'.
Country music covers the whole spectrum of real life, from the humdrum to the profound. Country also has a welcome sense of self-deprecating humor. Hence, the lyrics to "the best country song ever written":
I was drunk the day my mama got out of prison
And I went to pick her up in the rain
But before I could get to the station in my pickup truck
She got run over by a God-derned train...
You just can't beat country music for keeping you company in your yearning times. So, now the radios in both the cars are tuned properly, and I want my husband to come home. While this business is always "hurry up and wait," Bill says that he should be on a flight next week.
The other sure bellweather is that Bill's flight will arrive on the absolutely most inconvenient day and time. Next week is full of appointments and "must do" errands. So I'm guessing Tuesday or Thursday, since those days are already shaping up to be long and tiring.
So, come on home, darlin'.
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