our Berkeley shoe box is covered in a tent, sprayed with tear gas and a copper based powder post beetle poison. I hope nobody's stupid cat has any smart ideas about trying to sneak under the tent.
Last week, our friend A(who is supplying us with chickens) sighted a box turtle wandering along our fence. C says Meatball will either get crushed by a hapless driver, or chewed up by a dog if we let it go. So I guiltily confine it temporarily to a compost box. When I call up J, she excitedly repeats "Turtles love bananas. Turtles really love bananas."
We feed Meatball a snail everyday but I have secret hankerings to let it go. Unfortunately this is a non native species, an escaped pet. He doesn't look happy to me but C says Meatball is hanging out relaxing.
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
Donuts and holes
An old house is full of tiny cracks, holes, crevices. A house is also a slow-leak time sink. It's those holes that are eating minutes and hours methinks. So many days I spend filling/patching numerous holes with my favorite tool(double headed plaster spatula). But it's futile as new gaps are made.
While I was away visiting the OM for four days, C has busily dry-walled, tiled, and painted the bathroom.
My sister J is also renovating her home. J is serious about luxury and quality- she bought a full sized Steinway grand to learn how to play piano. But sadly she was diagnosed with arthritis in one hand so she stopped her lessons. J is also the most generous person I know. She doesn't hold back on anything. Everytime I go to her house, I always comeback with a sackful of goodies and an altered concept of the purpose of money. J can make necessities out of any luxury.
The architect who did the vice presidential residence(during the Gore years) is re-doing her kitchen and 4 bathrooms. When I showed her the pedestal sink C and I had selected, she held out a pinky in a scooping motion. She said she would have to wash her hands a finger at a time in my sink.
Although I always poopoo luxury, I find myself pleasantly surprised and acclimated to excess by the time I leave her house. Why chafe your knees on mediocre sheets when you can have the finest Tuscan linens. Why not bathe with the soap Napoleon had commissioned for Josephine. Except I am married to pigpen.
An old house is full of tiny cracks, holes, crevices. A house is also a slow-leak time sink. It's those holes that are eating minutes and hours methinks. So many days I spend filling/patching numerous holes with my favorite tool(double headed plaster spatula). But it's futile as new gaps are made.
While I was away visiting the OM for four days, C has busily dry-walled, tiled, and painted the bathroom.
My sister J is also renovating her home. J is serious about luxury and quality- she bought a full sized Steinway grand to learn how to play piano. But sadly she was diagnosed with arthritis in one hand so she stopped her lessons. J is also the most generous person I know. She doesn't hold back on anything. Everytime I go to her house, I always comeback with a sackful of goodies and an altered concept of the purpose of money. J can make necessities out of any luxury.
The architect who did the vice presidential residence(during the Gore years) is re-doing her kitchen and 4 bathrooms. When I showed her the pedestal sink C and I had selected, she held out a pinky in a scooping motion. She said she would have to wash her hands a finger at a time in my sink.
Although I always poopoo luxury, I find myself pleasantly surprised and acclimated to excess by the time I leave her house. Why chafe your knees on mediocre sheets when you can have the finest Tuscan linens. Why not bathe with the soap Napoleon had commissioned for Josephine. Except I am married to pigpen.
Monday, May 12, 2003
bathroom remodeling
All is progressing swimmingly. Last week C gutted the entire bathroom except for the loo. As of today- all plumbed- the copper pipes are things of beauty. I'm sad they have to hide behind a dry wall.
cracker wars
A late night snack bites both of us. C grabs the last box of grissini, dipping them unsuccessfully in a jar of honey(he chose the wrong kind- all crystallized). I, in an effort to grab one, karate chop his breadstick- split half in his mouth, half falls in the honey jar. Despite the deadly accurate aim, it was an accident. Honestly!
Seeing C growl over his box, I'm forced to scrounge around for my own box of saltines and favorite blue cheese. While I spread the cheese onto my first cracker- C looks at me intently. I spread my cheese a little too vigorously, and the cracker busts in my hand. C nods at me knowingly- with the look of satisfaction. He brags "I broke that cracker with my mind."
Unfazed, I stack a pile of four crackers on to my plate- fully ready enjoy my snack regardless of cracker breaking mindwaves. While I divert my attention for the briefest second to restore the twisty tie to the cracker package, C in plain sight drives a finger straight through my entire stack of saltines. What an outrage!
C claims it was purely an accident. This unnecessary escalation has my mind spinning. I cannot think of a response witty enough- I make C eat every bit of the destroyed cracker pieces. Without water!
The next day after dinner, I ask C to prepare the table for the cheese plate while I surf the web. When I go back into the dining room, I see a plate of busted stack of crackers. I cannot live this down. C grins again with satisfaction- he says the vacuum attachment I've left on the floor has made him trip over and his finger landed perfectly in the center of these crackers. I grumble since more perfectly good crackers have fallen victim. He says he only wanted to make me laugh. I can't win because it's true- I am giggling. So Aristotle is right again. One can't win against humor.
Seeing C growl over his box, I'm forced to scrounge around for my own box of saltines and favorite blue cheese. While I spread the cheese onto my first cracker- C looks at me intently. I spread my cheese a little too vigorously, and the cracker busts in my hand. C nods at me knowingly- with the look of satisfaction. He brags "I broke that cracker with my mind."
Unfazed, I stack a pile of four crackers on to my plate- fully ready enjoy my snack regardless of cracker breaking mindwaves. While I divert my attention for the briefest second to restore the twisty tie to the cracker package, C in plain sight drives a finger straight through my entire stack of saltines. What an outrage!
C claims it was purely an accident. This unnecessary escalation has my mind spinning. I cannot think of a response witty enough- I make C eat every bit of the destroyed cracker pieces. Without water!
The next day after dinner, I ask C to prepare the table for the cheese plate while I surf the web. When I go back into the dining room, I see a plate of busted stack of crackers. I cannot live this down. C grins again with satisfaction- he says the vacuum attachment I've left on the floor has made him trip over and his finger landed perfectly in the center of these crackers. I grumble since more perfectly good crackers have fallen victim. He says he only wanted to make me laugh. I can't win because it's true- I am giggling. So Aristotle is right again. One can't win against humor.
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