We didn't have a flood or a disaster of any kind, but our kitchen is turned upside down, unexpectedly.
Jon had the opportunity to look around a house next door that is going to be demolished (he knows the realtor and the owner), and he collected up some tools and a purple martin house and this and that. Plus he found a refrigerator that appeared to be in good condition, and one that matched the description of a fridge that I have coveted in the past.
He got some help and loaded this large refrigerator into our little pickup truck. Then we wrestled it up the stairs onto the porch, with help. Then he took it all apart and scrubbed it all out, and then he plugged it in. We waited a while before it cooled off and seemed to be working. Phew.
For the next day or so he worked, on and off, on switching the old one for the new one. Lots of scrubbing and shifting of contents. After a while we discovered that the builders didn't leave the standard amount of room for the fridge, and we never knew it because the first one was smaller. So Jon began to disassemble the surrounding area. He took the baseboard trim off. He pulled the cabinet and countertop out. Now there is a cabinet's worth of contents on the center island in addition to the many jars that were on the countertop. And two fridges and a gap next to the stove. All by himself, he took the door off the old fridge and put it on the front porch, so now we are bona fide hillbillies in suburbia.
Over time he discovered that the valve in the wall was broken and the water line needed some work. Home Depot trip. Finally got that connected. And to his great dismay, he learned that the ice maker does not work. Perhaps this is why this double door stainless steel fridge was abandoned.
So, the counter is filled to the edges with jars of flour and sugar and soy sauce and hot sauce and all the things that add flavor. And out on the front porch is the cabinet that Jon is sawing off the extra half inch so he can squeeze it back into its space.
He goes to Shreveport tomorrow. We will see how much happens after I go to bed tonight.
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Friday, June 10, 2016
Long Days, Short Nights
When it's sunny in June, there is no reason to stop working. Long days, short nights. This morning I slept in, waking up with a start at 5:20, wondering where I was supposed to be, but I figured out it is Friday -- now one of the easier days of the week with only one mission (picking vegetables) -- and I could go back to sleep. For the last eight days I have had to be somewhere at very early hours, so this morning is a luxurious one. I am still in my nightgown at 6 AM.
In the last week, we have launched the CSA for yet another season. There are pieces of the system which go very well by now: we register our members, we send welcome messages, we keep track of the payments. We planted peas in March, we filled about a quarter of an acre (I hope that is an exaggeration) with lettuce, and we stayed in touch with all of our farmer friends so they would know when we needed their vegetable help. We have learned a lot in the last 17 years and we were ready on the first day.
This year the challenge is working with an almost entirely new crew. They are lovely and they want to do everything to help. But there are so many things they have never seen or done, so when it was time to actually pick and pack and produce the CSA this week, it was up to me and Carrie and one experienced volunteer to get them in their places, show them how to get chard into a bag, remember to count, and do it all as quickly as possible. On Tuesday night I realized we needed to pick a substantial number of things to get through Wednesday and I decided the simplest solution was for me and Carrie to get up at the crack of dawn and pick it all ourselves. So we did, and it was the best and only way. As it was, we just barely hit all our marks getting the bags ready for delivery by noon.
While I am living and breathing vegetables and logistics, there are still diversions on my calendar, and it is last night's social event that I wanted to tell about.
About a week ago I got an email from a fellow alto in the choir, saying that one of our choir members was having a really hard time with her life and could we all get together and have dinner. So seven altos met up on a delicious evening, and we sat outdoors on a plaza at Lake Anne and swapped stories and had a fine Greek meal. Our friend Betty Ann, who is 80 years old and astounded by that fact, has been caring for her disabled husband for 35 years and it is really wearing on her. She does not consider the option of finding a different answer, she just lives with this reality of being a constant caregiver. They were married for 12 years before he got a brain tumor and ever since then she has been the one who does everything for both of them. The reason she is having a harder time now is that he is not talking much anymore. And he does not want to go anywhere. He is safely able to stay by himself so she comes and goes, keeping busy and participating in the world outside of their home, but the reality of that caregiving is a constant for her. One of her biggest source of sadness is that she can't travel to visit their children and grandchildren.
Our little group talked about our upcoming concert on Saturday (not going well, we are all worried) and we talked about the things we have in common. As I looked around the table, I realized what a vulnerable group husbands are. Only one of the women has a completely healthy husband. In truth, I have a healthy husband but he has a history so I can be counted in the group of six. I think I might have been the youngest person at the table (and we did talk about our ages quite openly but I can't remember if am younger than Ruth), so that partly explains why there are so many health issues. But all of the women at the table are healthy and strong. Why are men so poorly constructed?
We talked about the apparently universal phenomenon of leaving husbands at home so that we can do fun stuff. And yet every person there has a good relationship with her husband. We have known each other long enough, as choir members, that we know all the husbands and the origin stories of the relationships. We know about the troubles, the cruises, the grandchildren.
It was an excellent evening. We didn't solve any of Betty Ann's problems but we listened and we laughed, actually. At the very beginning, when we were ordering drinks, some of us wanted sangria but we couldn't see ourselves drinking a whole glass. So some of us shared. Ruth and Betty Ann drank out of the same glass with two straws. Just thinking about that makes me smile.
Life is full of memorable moments. Weeding dill at dusk is memorable, and sharing sangria with nice women is memorable. I am still one of the luckiest people I have ever known. And now it is time to get dressed and teach some young women how to pick chard.
In the last week, we have launched the CSA for yet another season. There are pieces of the system which go very well by now: we register our members, we send welcome messages, we keep track of the payments. We planted peas in March, we filled about a quarter of an acre (I hope that is an exaggeration) with lettuce, and we stayed in touch with all of our farmer friends so they would know when we needed their vegetable help. We have learned a lot in the last 17 years and we were ready on the first day.
This year the challenge is working with an almost entirely new crew. They are lovely and they want to do everything to help. But there are so many things they have never seen or done, so when it was time to actually pick and pack and produce the CSA this week, it was up to me and Carrie and one experienced volunteer to get them in their places, show them how to get chard into a bag, remember to count, and do it all as quickly as possible. On Tuesday night I realized we needed to pick a substantial number of things to get through Wednesday and I decided the simplest solution was for me and Carrie to get up at the crack of dawn and pick it all ourselves. So we did, and it was the best and only way. As it was, we just barely hit all our marks getting the bags ready for delivery by noon.
While I am living and breathing vegetables and logistics, there are still diversions on my calendar, and it is last night's social event that I wanted to tell about.
About a week ago I got an email from a fellow alto in the choir, saying that one of our choir members was having a really hard time with her life and could we all get together and have dinner. So seven altos met up on a delicious evening, and we sat outdoors on a plaza at Lake Anne and swapped stories and had a fine Greek meal. Our friend Betty Ann, who is 80 years old and astounded by that fact, has been caring for her disabled husband for 35 years and it is really wearing on her. She does not consider the option of finding a different answer, she just lives with this reality of being a constant caregiver. They were married for 12 years before he got a brain tumor and ever since then she has been the one who does everything for both of them. The reason she is having a harder time now is that he is not talking much anymore. And he does not want to go anywhere. He is safely able to stay by himself so she comes and goes, keeping busy and participating in the world outside of their home, but the reality of that caregiving is a constant for her. One of her biggest source of sadness is that she can't travel to visit their children and grandchildren.
Our little group talked about our upcoming concert on Saturday (not going well, we are all worried) and we talked about the things we have in common. As I looked around the table, I realized what a vulnerable group husbands are. Only one of the women has a completely healthy husband. In truth, I have a healthy husband but he has a history so I can be counted in the group of six. I think I might have been the youngest person at the table (and we did talk about our ages quite openly but I can't remember if am younger than Ruth), so that partly explains why there are so many health issues. But all of the women at the table are healthy and strong. Why are men so poorly constructed?
We talked about the apparently universal phenomenon of leaving husbands at home so that we can do fun stuff. And yet every person there has a good relationship with her husband. We have known each other long enough, as choir members, that we know all the husbands and the origin stories of the relationships. We know about the troubles, the cruises, the grandchildren.
It was an excellent evening. We didn't solve any of Betty Ann's problems but we listened and we laughed, actually. At the very beginning, when we were ordering drinks, some of us wanted sangria but we couldn't see ourselves drinking a whole glass. So some of us shared. Ruth and Betty Ann drank out of the same glass with two straws. Just thinking about that makes me smile.
Life is full of memorable moments. Weeding dill at dusk is memorable, and sharing sangria with nice women is memorable. I am still one of the luckiest people I have ever known. And now it is time to get dressed and teach some young women how to pick chard.
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