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Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Sunday, November 3, 2013
R2-D2 Eats Dirt
Yesterday Dean asked me what I wanted for Christmas. Normally I don’t have a list of things I want
for my birthday or Christmas. It's hard for me to come up with gift ideas just for me. I'm all about sharing. How about a window? Let's buy each other a new replacement window and that way we'll have two new ones. But this time I surprised him. I had a list.
I want one of those round things that clean your
floors.
Puzzled look.
You know, the
round thing. I don’t know what it’s called.
The robot something and you just turn it on and it goes one way and
then it bumps into something and it goes the other way and then your floors
are clean. You just leave it and come home and your floors are clean.
Raised eyebrows. The
carpet is clean?
No. The hardwood
floors because we have wood floors in Casper and in Sheridan and Angus is a fur factory. But I don’t know if they’re good. I haven’t researched them yet and now NPR
says there’s some kind of vine thing going on with Amazon’s reviews so even if the reviews say they’re great I’m not sure I’ll be able to believe
them but still, that’s what I think I want; that
round thing that bumps into walls and cleans your floors. Uh ....well .....actually .... now that I'm really thinking and talking about it .... hauling the vacuum back and forth between
Sheridan and Casper is fine. We should
just do that. I don’t really need a
vacuum and a round bump-into-walls-thing.
Oh.
Or, I did think maybe I wanted a leather jacket because they’re
really warm and I’ve been wearing the old leather jacket Abby got at the thrift
store when she was in college for uh, well, a long time and I love it, but I
thought it might be nice to have one that is new. But then I thought about it and the hole in
the sleeve is really small and doesn’t even show at all if I hold my arm just
right and as long as the holes in the lining aren’t in the pockets so I don’t
lose my gloves it seems silly to buy a new one.
And anyway, I have that nice red coat you got me a few years ago. Just because I have to unzip it if I want to
sit down without it bunching up around my middle and pushing the top of the
zipper into my neck doesn’t mean I shouldn’t wear it. It’s a very nice coat.
Oh.
Or snow shoes. I
thought maybe we could get each other snow shoes for Christmas. But I don’t want them if you don’t want them
because I don’t want to go snow shoeing all by myself. (Kind of like you must not want to skate/ski by yourself since those new skating skis I bought you for Christmas a few years
ago, when you really, really wanted them, are snow virgins.) So
maybe snow shoes aren’t a good idea after all.
Oh.
Later on that day as I was getting ready to mow the leaves up from the yard I had another idea.
A sewing light would be a great thing to get me. I’m really going to need a sewing light
because I had to give Abby’s back to her and I really need a lot of light to
sew by now and we don’t have great lamps or ceiling lights here or in Sheridan. So a sewing light would be awesome. But I'd have to haul it back
and forth with the vacuum. There should
be room for both of them but that’d be kind of a pain. And then I remembered I have my head lamp. Dean
got me a head lamp three years ago for Christmas and I’ve never taken it out of
the packaging. I could just put that on
my head and when I look down, the light will fall right where I need it to on
the fabric. And those lights are really bright. Plus it would be super easy to take
back and forth between here and Sheridan.
Cool. A head lamp. That will
work. So I don’t need a sewing light
after all.
As I walked out the garage door toward the lawn mower I was mulling over the robot thing and the snow shoes and
the jacket and my solution to a sewing light and trying to come up with more Christmas gift ideas.
Thanks, Angus. I needed a good idea.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Robin! To the Bat Cave!
It's been nice
to get back to blogging again. I enjoy
writing pointless and insignificant drivel, even if I am the only one who reads
it. Unfortunately, my blogging may shortly become sporadic again since the pompous receptacles of supposed
humanity have momentarily run out of hot air and sent me back to work —
at least until the post-Christmas credit card bills come due.
As long as we’ve
been driving up to Sheridan every weekend since mid-May, we figured we may as well take the
opportunity to move most of our worldly possessions — one carload
load at a time. I'm not forced to sleep on a blow up bed here in Casper — yet — but it's a bit cavernous.
It's also been a bit of a trial at times when we're in Sheridan and that one thing we really want is in Casper, or vice versa, but that's okay. Searching for garage sales has helped us become more familiar with our future town, and there's nothing wrong with owning two coffee pots, two blenders and two toasters. It'll just give us the opportunity to have our own garage sale.
Other than that, relocation via Subaru
has been smooth. I’m not kidding. You don’t think it’s possible? I didn’t think it would be possible to get
rid of all the kitchen appliances, cupboards, and detritus one garbage can at a
time when we remodeled the kitchen either but we did it. Well, actually, Dean did it. And I was so proud of him for actually
throwing all that stuff away and not saving it for “art” projects. If only I could be as proud of him during
this move …
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| All you need is your Subaru! |
Before we had fully recognized the capabilities of the transportation by Subaru technique, we did wimp out early this spring by renting a truck to move some larger items. But I have now come to the conclusion that with some creative loading and a variety of bungee cords, straps and padding, trucks are an unnecessary luxury. By this time next year when I am ready to retire, I fully expect we will have moved the balance of our whole 3,000 square foot house two hours north to Sheridan using only one Subaru Outback wagon and a few paper boxes.
It’s a technique which is adaptable to any type of move. Especially congressman voted out of office.
Yes. This loveseat was in ....
..... our Subaru! Didn't believe me didja?
 |
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Billy Ray, I'm Breakin'
I have no idea when anyone is reading this because I am
typing it in Sheridan* where we have no wifi.
However, if my forced “vacation” continues much longer, my temptation to
connect to the world may become more pronounced. Especially if I feel the need to search for a
new recipe for bread or cookies or cake.
In the meantime, I am content with the natural connection nature has
provided me by the unexpected visitors I see through the big picture window at
the back of our house. I wonder how
long it will be until the owners discover their own connections to the natural
world are missing.
Even without a television, Netflix, internet or powerful
steeds, I’ve managed to occupy myself during the days we’ve been up here. Slaughtering box elder bugs takes much more
time than you could ever imagine.
Last
year I was the only one driven to crazed distraction by masses of disgusting
red and brown beetles covering the front of the house and flying into my hair
or down my neck when I tried to walk through the front door. This year it’s been a different story. Dean and I have become an army of two on the
battlefield of creepy-crawlies. We are armed with killing powder, fly swatters and a
pump sprayer. Every swat, soapy water
drenching or sprinkle of Borax is completed with precision as we work toward
utter annihilation. It doesn’t seem that
those skin-crawling husks of vile legs and antennae infuriate or disgust Dean the
way they do me. I think he just enjoys
the battle. But that’s okay because every
battle we win brings us closer to the end of the war. Sadly, every battle we lose brings me closer
to the end of my sanity because it turns out this time of year, box elder bugs
factor into just about everything I try to do – like acid stain a concrete
floor for example.
Have any of you attempted to acid-stain your concrete
floor? Raise your hands. No, wait.
Leave me a comment and let me know how many box elder bugs were permanently
affixed to your floor when you were finished.
What? The only thing you had to grab
was that one fleeting puff of fur released when your dog shook himself? You didn’t have to factor in the time of day,
the air temperature, the percent of cloud cover or the angle of the sun? You didn’t have to calculate the length of
time needed to complete your project in order to avoid the peak hours of warmth
when prospective smears would squeeze through the miniscule cracks in your old-leaky-yet-to-be-replaced
windows and crawl across the floor? Huh. Imagine that.
You must not live along a creek in Sheridan.
Before I embarked on this acid-staining project I had intended
to lay laminate flooring in my basement sewing room and when our friends, Larry
and Heidi, came for a visit in September, I already had 17 samples of flooring
lying against the wall. When Heidi heard
the anguish in my voice as I talked about the difficulty deciding which to
choose, listened to me as I stressed about my ability to lay it, nodded in sympathy
as I debated about the pros and cons of laminate versus tile versus vinyl versus
carpet, and anguished over the expense, she needed to shut me up took pity on me and suggested I consider staining the concrete instead. It
would be less expensive and if I didn’t like it I could still consider an
alternate floor covering.
The thought of using an acid based etching concoction and
gearing up like I was going to make meth was scary and daunting. Not that I know how to make meth. Or even what it looks like. Okay, I know the good stuff is a really
pretty blue but that’s all I know. I
have no idea how to make it.
Really. I barely passed
chemistry. It’s just that Mr. White was
really safe and he wore all that gear and acid-staining my floor made me think
of protective clothing which made me think of meth and …. oh, never mind. Anyway, mostly I was scared I wouldn’t be
able to do it. That I would accidentally
etch my walls or my legs or I would etch too much concrete or not enough. I was scared it would be a failure.
So I did a lot of research.
And even though the many You-Tube videos I watched didn’t say anything
about not mixing box elder bug parts into the etching solution, and the can of
stain didn’t mention anything about how to camouflage box elder
legs when they become stuck in the stain, and the Valspar can didn’t tell me
how to remove box elder shells from under the dried wet-look sealer, I decided to throw
caution to the wind and go ahead with Heidi’s suggestion and stain the concrete
floor in my future sewing room. And I
did.
 |
| Before I became a hunchback |
As with every project, the preparation takes longer, is more
arduous and offers absolutely no reward other than the hope of a happy ending –
kind of like pregnancy. First I had to scrape
up all the paint stains and bits of leftover foam from past carpet and then
scrub the floor – on my hands and knees – with a bristle brush. The hardest part of all was slowly and
agonizingly unfolding and raising my contorted body from a cold, hard concrete
floor to an upright position. That’s when I wished I’d been more careful when I
was painting the walls and ceilings…..and that I was younger.
 |
| After I became a hunchback |
Once all the preparations were completed I donned my meth
gear, gritted my teeth, crossed my gloved fingers, sprinkled the etching
mixture on the floor, got down on my hands and knees, and scrubbed the mixture
into the concrete. I didn’t worry about
any stray insects because I was happy to etch their little guts to death. Here’s another tip. Use a plastic sprinkling can that actually scatters
an even spray of solution. Not one that
splashes big puddles.
 |
| Spray with mist of water before slopping on the etching solution with defective sprinkling can. |
 |
| Brush til the foam disappears or your body breaks--whichever comes first. |
I thought the worst was over when I was able to finally
shuffle my hunched body out of the room, but I was so wrong. Removing the etching solution using Dean’s
dinosaur of a shop vac almost broke me.
Since the recommended method of hosing the floor with a pressure nozzle
didn’t seem to be a viable option, I resorted to sprinkling it down with the
pump sprayer, scrubbing with a brush (yes, on my hands and knees again!) and
vacuuming it up. Easy peasey. Until I realized the shop vac would not
maintain its suction unless I was bent over with my nose nearly on the floor so
I could hold it at the precise angle it required to maintain the seal. I repeated that process three times. It almost took me as long to become vertical
again as it took to clean the floor. I
seriously considered calling out for Dean to help uncurl me but I knew he wouldn’t
be able to hear me over his swatting.
Finally, I was ready to stain. I began early in the morning, before the box
elders had warmed up enough to mount their attack. It was a race against time. As I sprayed I began to hear the whap .. whap
.. whap .. whapwhapwhap .. of Dean’s fly swatter. I stained as fast as I could because I was
afraid a bug would slip through Dean’s defenses and become mired in the stain
before it had time to dry. Here's another tip. Use the circular spray nozzle. Do not use
the fan-shaped “designed to kill box elder bugs” spray nozzle on your pump
sprayer. Do not.
If you do, you’re going to be unhappy with the result and feel obligated to take your husband's suggestion to try hand brushing on another coat of stain to see if it helps, which means getting down on your hands and knees – again – holding a little paintbrush in your already swollen and aching hand, and layering on another coat. Not only that, you will be forced to grit your teeth and admit he was right. As if that wasn't bad enough you will then decide it needs just one more coat and you will get down on your hands and knees and hand brush the whole room again. On the other hand, when you find out later your
husband thought he had the recommended circular nozzle (if only he knew where it was.....) you will be able to use those
creative phrases once again. That being
said, if you like the leather look of your floor after the wrong nozzle layered
the stain on so thick that it took ten hours to completely dry, go for it.
 | ||
| After the first spraying of stain but before a creative usage of words. |
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| After two joint-swelling hand-brushed coats of stain. |
 |
| I almost had a panic attack when it rolled on white. I thought I had accidentally opened a can of primer. I had to double check the can to be sure I was using sealer. Even bug parts would have been better primer! |
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| All it needs now is baseboards, curtains, and a sewing project! |
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| The look of leather. It's not just for furniture. |
*Obviously I’m connected again. Wouldn’t you know, just as I’m back on a blogging
roll I might be going back to work……..or not.
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Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Celine Needs To Eat More
If being furloughed is a precursor to my retirement next year I am
going to be in a boatload of trouble. No,
not a boatload – a shipload. I am going
to be in a shipload of trouble. I am
going to be in a sinking shipload of trouble.
I’m just not used to having all this time on my hands and I don’t quite know what to do with
myself. Sure, sleeping nine or 10
hours a night uses up some of the time, and chasing fur balls with a dustmop is fun for about …
actually it’s not fun at all. Reading in the middle of the afternoon, or watching Love It Or List It at 10 in the morning, or doing laundry on a weekday just doesn't have the same feeling of cunning triumph when I am pretty sure I am going to be able to do that the next day and the next and the next and the next.
What’s a
furloughed girl to do? Turns out I
bake. Yep. Bake and bake and bake – banana bread,
cinnamon rolls, sandwich bread, rice pudding – and then I eat and eat and eat…………………….and
eat some more.
Before the weightiness of this furlough pushes me down into the oceanic depths though, I’m going to share
a recipe in the hopes I will have company.
I got this from Abby and it’s awesome.
It’s very moist and very flavorful.
I followed the recipe exactly the first time I made it but if Congress
doesn’t send me back to work soon I’m going to try it again with a little
coconut added.
Abby says it doesn’t taste nearly as good after about three
days, however I cannot attest to that because mine didn’t last that long. I also only let it cool for approximately one
minute (not hour) before serving –– if hacking off a piece and shoving it into my mouth counts as serving. And I don’t
have a photo either because………….well, you figure it out.
See you at the bottom!
Low-Fat Banana Bread
4 large ripe bananas
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour
½ cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
¾ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 ounces fat-free cream cheese, cut into 4 pieces and
chilled
1. Adjust oven rack
to middle position and heat oven to 350 degrees. Bake bananas on rimmed baking sheet until
skins are completely black, about 20 minutes.
(Do not turn off oven). Cool
bananas completely, peel, and mash with potato masher until smooth. Measure 1 ½ cups mashed bananas and discard
any excess.
2. Grease a 9 x 5
inch loaf pan. Whisk eggs and vanilla in
small bowl. With electric mixer on
medium low speed, mix flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in
large bowl until combined.** Add oil and
cream cheese, one piece at a time, and mix until only pea-sized pieces of cream
cheese remain, about 1 minute. Slowly
mix in egg mixture, then add mashed bananas and beat until incorporated, about
30 seconds.
3. Scrape batter into
prepared pan and bake until golden brown and toothpick inserted into center
comes out with a few crumbs attached.
50 to 60 minutes. Cool for 10
minutes, then turn onto wire rack and let cool at least one hour. Serve.
(Bread can be stored at room temperature for up to three days).
**Use a deep bowl if you have it. It’s a little dry and chunks may fly out of
the bowl with the mixer.
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