Sad

 I am away being an extra set of hands right now but today I had a chance to get a nice walk in.

I wasn't sure where I was going, but I set off at a good clip. I saw a city cemetary. I do love a good explore in an old cemetery. 

Two things I had never seen before: the family plots with the old names that I recognized from street signs and park signs all had little carved stone entrances. The middle of those plots contained huge monuments with the family name. The family was all laid to rest around the central marker. I don't remember ever seeing that kind of set up before.

The other amazing thing was that many of the tombstones of the women listed their maiden names which made it easy to connect the Kutzes to the Klines to the Denkels to the Schaeffers.

It was an interesting walk.

Probably the saddest stone: a married couple was buried side by side with the normal collection of dates. On the other side, four babies were buried. They had just one year for two of them, indicating to me that they had died shortly after birth. The other two had lived for a few months.

Four babies! It was sad enough on its own, but the saddest thing of all is that their oldest boy was buried between the married couple on the other side of that stone.

He had outlived his siblings, but died at 16.

I could not take pictures. My phone was (ironically) dead.

SFB, JC

The title means this post is 'safe for breakfast, Jaycee!'

I bought a new carpet for the livingroom yesterday because it was a pattern that I'd loved for a few years, and the colors went with what was already there. How often do you see something you really love being clearanced out? Unfortunately, once I got it home, while the colors were just right, but the size of it wasn't. 

So I waffled around about what to do with it today, and got the bright idea to do some switching around, moving the 8 ft round carpet from the library, and putting the new 5 x 8 ft into the library.  I changed out the throw pillows and it was perfect, I kept walking out of it and walking back into it, just to admire the new look.

Silly how such a little things can makes such a big happy, isn't it?

I spent the rainy chilly day baking bread, stuffing zucchini for Tim's supper, and trying to figure out the meaning of 'cursus'. Reading wasn't doing it for me, despite Northstoke's help, but I found some videos put out by the English Heritage, and got it all sorted out in my mind. 

I think I needed this rainy, puttering day. 

Best part? 

No spiders. 

LATE EDIT: 

This is the new rug, which was bought for the livingroom which wound up in the library. 

This is the rug that was in the library, that got moved to the livingroom. 

These are the pillows bought to pull together the livingroom.  

Bob lives in the library. He approves the changes. 

As always, please excuse the poor photos. Someday I will have a decent camera. 

For Northsider

  This is the lean-to. It will keep three tractors under cover. 

After working today, we headed for home, and on the back of my seat, there was the biggest freaking spider that I've ever seen in my life. It was grotesque, with a swollen body the size of a marble, stripey legs. Tim saw it first. 

"Get that rag off the floor and get it out of there," he said. 

So I gingerly picked up an oily rag, gathered up the spider, and tried to shake it off outside, but it clung there to the rag, stubbornly. 

So. 

I gave it a little flick with my finger...

....AND IT EXPLODED!

Totally not kidding. I almost lost my cookies. I had spider guts on my fingers. 

It was so gross. 

We could not figure out how it got in the truck, but when I got home, I ran my fingers through the back of my hair while I was talking, and pulled away a handfull of cobwebs. 

I need to go lie down. 

Another project

 Tim was up at 6:30 this morning, and raring to go. "Get up! Time to get up!" Just as excited as a child on Christmas morning. 

I did get up, but I wasn't all wound up and raring to go like he was. We had a big pile of wood waiting for us in Grand Valley, fresh from Levi's saw mill. We were adding on a 24 by 12 lean-to on the side of the garage. Tim had cemented in the four support beams on Saturday but we needed to  complete the cover for it, building the framework and putting up 13 beams, one end of which attached the the garage, and the other end fit onto the support framework. 

Tim and I usually work well together, really, but the one thing that really bothers me is that he has a plan in his head, one that I can't see, so I have to wait to see what he's doing. Unfortunately, he is a thinker, and so he spends a lot of time second guessing himself and measuring twice, cutting once, etc. while I stand there trying to figure out what the vision is. 

By lunch time, we had six boards up. 

Totally not kidding. 

Six. 

So, I began getting impatient like I do. Despite my vow of patience, despite my vows to go weed something if I was getting irritated (for the record, I did get some weeding done), I found myself saying things like, "Tim. I don't understand why you just have to do things the hard way, every time." He snapped back, "Well, what's your plan, then?!"

Honestly. You never see the married people on television fixer-upper shows bickering. We've never once just quietly done a project without some irritated bickering and snapping. I guess it's safe to assume that DIY television won't come knocking on our door anytime soon. 

Tim did incorporate a couple of my ideas into cutting the beams and attaching the hangers.  I carried the finished beams over to the building and set them where they would eventually be mounted. Even he had to admit that things were going much faster. We had all the beams up by 2:30. I pushed the 4 by 8 sheets of plywood up a ladder to where Tim was waiting to grab the end and shift them into place on the roof. He hammered, while I hauled out another sheet and started up the ladder. By 4, we were installing the fascia.

We drove into town to get supper at a fast food place, (I was dirty and sweaty and not fit for anything else). and then got back to it, installing the drip edge, the rolled roofing,  and the flashing. By 6:30, we  were done. We gathered up the debris and we gathered up the tools and put everything away. 

We drove home in contented silence. We were both bone tired and aching but very proud that we'd gotten it done. All of it. For all the snapping and bickering, we really do work well together. 

Tim said, "That's what happens when you are retired. You work sunup to sundown."

"No, we don't," I said firmly. 

LATE EDIT (specifically for Han Dylan) We added this structure to the side of a 24 x 24 ft garage. It will hold 3 tractors backed in to 3 bays. 

Nuts

Julie Green is a prophet. God told her that King Charles murdered the Queen for the crown. Of course, she also claims that President Biden is dead and that Barak Obama is running the country through a Joe Biden body double. 

She could easily be dismissed as a religious nut wad except...

She is a spiritual advisor to Doug Mastriano, the Republican gubernatorial candidate who participated in the January 6th debacle. He also uses a white supremacist online group to attract followers. He vows to deregister every voter in Pennsylvania and make us all re-register to vote. He also says that he can decertify the votes from anywhere if he believes that there is any irregularity. 

He is losing in the polls, but I still have a question. How can he only be losing by 10.4 points? 

Boring

 I am about tired of tomatoes, I can tell you that. Probably one more picking, and we'll call it good. I dug the potatoes today, which were disappointing. I picked beans again, and pulled the onions. I have three more zucchini I have to figure out what to do with. Probably at this point just go ahead and shred them and put them in the freezer in 2 cup packages for zucchini bread. 

Tim is building a lean to for the tractors at the side of the garage. He has been working on the Oliver, and finally got that operational, so he's a happy guy. He was going to sell the Oliver for the longest time. Now he's going to keep that because he wants a bucket loader (and he's got the bugs worked out of it). He loves the new (1956) Farmall because it has a winch, so now he's thinking to sell the old Farmall (1940 something)

I think he won't sell any of them. 

So we worked on our projects, me in the garden, him on the garage. William bounced between the two of us, helping his grandfather, helping me. He was a good extra set of arms and learned how to use the level today. 

So really, the only thing left, really are the pumpkins, which will need to be cooked down. We both love pumpkin soup and Tim loves pumpkin pie. It's quite a satisfying pile of fruits and vegetables in the chest freezer. Once we start stocking it with venison, we will be set for winter. 

I drove home to begin work on the produce, and Hairy lay across the driveway, stretched out on his side, his back towards me. I stopped the car, and he did not move. I tooted the horn. He did not move. I got out of the car and made my way slowly to him. I expected him to be dead. He opened his eyes and looked lazily at me. 

"Will you move?" I asked, giving him a nudge. He leisurely got up and moved to the other side of the driveway. As I was unloading the car, William got a dish of kibble for him. He moved very quickly when he heard that. What a stinker. 

That's it really. Sometimes your most productive days will simply bore the snot out of everyone else. Sorry about your luck. 

Dodged a Bullet on that One.

 William will be hunting for the first time this year. Tim had wanted him to use the .222 that HE had bought as a boy, to learn the craft, but unfortunately, .222 ammunition is no longer made. So, Tim found a rifle for him, a gun that allowed it to 'grow' with the child, with stock additions that made the gun longer as William's arms grew. It also had a scope, which was a new thing for him. He has only used his bb gun and the .22, which had open sights. 

Tim really studied the situation, agonized over what gun would be best. He really wants William to be a hunter. 

So Tim bought that gun, a .350 Remington Legend but was disappointed to discover that it was not everything it was cracked up to be. It kicked despite advertising that it didn't. He fretted about that as he sighted it in, and then in the end, decided that he needed to find another gun for William. 

Me? I think he just wanted another gun. 

Anyways, he came out where I was cleaning up after supper. He had found the gun for William. He was sure of it. He had placed an order on line. 

I was a little shocked, because to be perfectly honest, that strikes me as wrong. How does the company know who they're dealing with? What about background checks? I didn't even know you COULD buy guns that way. Let me be clear. Tim is a hunter, and he owns many guns, and if I ever stopped to count them, I'd probably be upset. BUT...we do not belong to the NRA, which we believe has a tight hold on the testicles of way too many politicians. We believe strongly that not all people should have guns. We also believe that if you want to own assault weapons, you can just go ahead and join the military. There is no earthly reason that any person in this country needs a gun that fires multiple rounds per second. No valid reason for it. NONE. ZIPPO. NADA. Tim also understands one thing: the gun laws that are changed affect him not at all. Neither does it affect any sportsmen we know. 

(So...please don't waste your time arguing with me in the comments. I won't respond.)

Anyways, the next morning Tim comes to me and says, "I need you to set this up for me." The place he had placed the order, Mossberg Gun Store, had sent an e-mail saying he needed to set up a Zelle account and transfer the money to them. 

I said, "I'm NOT setting this up for you. I'm not sure that I'm comfortable putting all our bank information out there for another payment method. Zelle has some significant issues. I think we need to talk to our bank." 

He agreed to go talk to the bank in the morning, but he said, "Tell them that we will send a cashier's check, just to see what they say." So I sent an e-mail. 

The next morning, we were quite surprised to find a curt e-mail from the company saying that our order had been canceled. If we decided to go ahead with the Zelle payment, they'd be glad to place the order again. My BS detectors were on high alert at that point, so I went back and did some research on the company. They have a BBB accreditation of 'F'. There is page after page after page of complaints. They take the money, send no gun  and their customer service doesn't reply.  Zelle does not offer any sort of protection to the buyer, which is why it is the payment choice of scammers. 

I typed my response to their e-mail. 'After reading about your company, we no longer wish to do business with you.'

Forewarned is forearmed as they say. The company is Mossberg Gun Store. And if any online group is demanding payment through Zelle, and accepting no other payment, go back and check on the company itself. Reputable people will accept multiple methods of payment. 

A Day in the Kitchen (except for that time when I wasn't)

 I was out of butter. I was out of vegetable oil. I needed eggs. Taco seasoning. Sweet peppers. Shredded cheese. Mozzarella. A strange list of things that I'd managed to run out of simultaneously. On my way to Aldi's, I thought to stop into Goodwill.  I've been going through quite a few tupperware containers, between cooking for others and freezing stuff for later. I thought just to check and see what they had. 

I parked the car and opened the car door and ~ACKKKKK!~ almost put my foot in a very large splat of barf. I think that my subconscious recognized the smell before I did, and my foot stopped just before making contact. My gosh, that was the grossest beginning to a day EVER. Well. Except for the times that I was actually cleaning up after a sick child. That was grosser. This was plenty gross though. Whoever it was had eaten a full meal. 

Anyways, despite that, I did get inside, and as usual, I found exactly what I needed: a large stash of new 'disposible' plasticware from Walmart, still packaged with the tags. I bought all they had, and am restocked, getting 14 new containers for $5, which was a nice surprise. I hadn't noticed that some of them were on sale. 

I took a look at the books, because I need books. Because I have no new books to read Okay dammit, I have no self control. I found a book that looks quite entertaining. Thames: A Biography, by Peter Ackroyd. I flipped through it, and it looks like one of those wonderful books that you can pick up, read a little and then set back down on your bedside table. For 99 cents, it came home with me. With another biography, this one about an actual person. 

I went to Aldi and picked up the things that I needed. I also picked up some vegetables, coffee, and olive oil, as well. $54.00. Eep. I left the store with everything in one bag and spent $54! 

Anyways, while I was in there, my phone rang and I answered it. Tim said, in an irritated voice, "I've been calling you at home!" I said, (because, I'm a smart ass), "Well, I bet I didn't pick up." He rarely thinks I'm as funny as I do. 

I got home and got my groceries put away. I have two loaves of zucchini bread baking and two loaves of wheat bread rising and a pot of chicken vegetable soup with rice in the crock pot. 

Best air freshener ever. 

Give 'em hell, Hairy.

 Hairy is a large long haired black cat, one of the four strays (For everyone keeping track, there is Mangey, Hairy, Car Cat ~who is always looking for an open car window~, and Ginger.)  Hairy looks a lot like a four legged yeti, to be honest. 

Hairy used to live with us. It lasted about two months. He was not an indoor cat. He did not want to be an indoor cat. He wasn't destructive or anything. It's just that he scooted out the door every time he had a chance, and then he just stayed gone, to teach us a lesson, I suppose. After several bolts for freedom, he finally just stopped coming back. 

It's a free country, even for cats, I guess.

Anyways, now Hairy is back. He's the most regular feral. He is waiting for me when I wake up and look out the kitchen window. I get a clean bowl for him, put some kibble in it, and set it out. He eats it, although he makes it clear that he wants the good stuff. He gets the good stuff in the evening. That's it. He's fed regularly (usually twice with a small bowl of kibble, once with the good stuff). He doesn't need to be a pig about it. 

Anyways, Ginger came in last night and I took his food out for him, Ginger gets the good stuff whenever he shows up because he does not stop by regularly.  This meant that I had to keep Hairy distracted so that he didn't rush in to gobble up his second serving of the good stuff. It's pretty easy to do, really because Hairy does love to be petted and talked to. 

He's pretty sociable as far as yetis go.

When Ginger finished, I scooped up his bowl and took it in the house to wash
and left Hairy sitting at the door with an outraged look on his furry face. He couldn't quite figure out what had happened, but he suspected that he'd been deprived.

I finished up in the kitchen, set the bowl back out in the mudroom and came back in the livingroom. Suddenly there was a rattling at the storm door which was slightly ajar. "What the hell?" Tim said, and he got up to see what was happening. There was Hairy, sitting on the side porch on his hinder, both paws on the door, drumming them just as hard and fast as he could. 

"KNOCK IT OFF!" Tim roared, pulling the door tightly shut so that the rattling wouldn't be so bad. 

Hairy did knock it off as directed, but of course this has become one more thing to make Tim unhappy about the current situation.

Disclaimer. This is not Hairy. Probably his brother or something. 

The Find

 I had to go to Goodwill today. I feed the cats from little china bowls. Lest you think this is some sort of pretentious behavior, allow me to explain. I wanted them to have bowls that were different from anything in my kitchen. No confusion. I feed the cats, I wash the bowls and they get set out in the mudroom for the next hungry cat. You can go to Goodwill and pick up four mismatched china bowls for 39 cents (Pro-tip: Buy the color tag that is the week's discount. The cats don't care, and neither do I really.) 

Anyways.

The cats are fed at the edge of the driveway, and sometimes before I get back out there to collect the bowls, Tim heads off. He has a tendency to cut corners a lot closer than I do, and so, from time to time, a china bowl meets its sad end beneath the tire of a dump truck or whatever the heck he happens to be driving. Two of them bit the dust in this two week period. 

Time to replace them. I was headed to the grocery store for onions and passing by the Goodwill. Those bowls popped in my head, and it was still discount day, so I decided to pop in and see what I could get. I had a little stash of sale priced bowls at my chosen 39 cent limit already in my cart, when I saw them, a set of four melamine bows for 99 cents. It was like getting  two free, so I put my china bowls back and got those little set of bowls while wondering how melamine holds up to being run over by the dump truck. I imagine that I'll be finding out. Stay tuned.

Anyways, I was looking at kids clothes because...well...because I am practical...because my oldest grandaughter needs a winter coat...alright, dammit, I have no self control. Anyways, it paid off in spades for me today. Isn't this the dearest little coat you've ever seen? It's pink and black houndstooth which doesn't really show up in the picture.) And it shows no sign of having even been worn. 

And I am sure that this coat cost way more than $5.39 that when it was bought. 

Home Again, Home Again

 We left Friday morning to visit my son and his family. His birthday was last Thursday, and it has been an awfully long time since we were able to celebrate it with him. I made a batch of bread dough up, and baked a cake. I cut up the strawberries, and had heavy whipping cream to be turned into whipped topping for a strawberry short cake. We have a cooler that held it all. along with the pepperonis, the home made mozzarella cheese, and spaghetti sauce from our own tomatoes. We plugged the cooler  into the cigarette lighter and voila, everything stayed cold for the 5 hour trip. 

My 4 year old grandaughter helped me roll out the dough and make the pepperoni rolls (one layer of parmesan, a layer of 3 pepperoni, a layer of mozzarella, top it all off with another layer of pepperoni and roll it up). She had her little apron on, her little rolling pin at the ready, and she stood on the other side of the island in her mother's helper. It was great fun for both of us. 

The pepperoni rolls were finished at just about the same time that her father finished at the office and did his arduous commute down the stairs. The rolls were a childhood favorite, and all these years later, he still seemed to enjoy them. He also seemed happy with his gifts, a gyuto knife and a block of habanero cheddar cheese from the Amish store. 

It was a such a happy weekend with the granddaughters. The baby is not quite two months old but I got a smile today, and I am convinced it wasn't gas. The four year old and I had a wonderful weekend playing Go Fish, reading books, taking walks. We went to the playground, we went out for supper, and we gave a unicorn a bath. 

The thing that I love best is that every night, when we went to bed, the door would very quietly creak open, and a little figure from across the hall would slip in to tell me something. Once it was to lend me her Thumper bunny to sleep with. I think that she just wanted to make sure that I was still going to be there the next morning. It was a wonderful long weekend, and the best part, when we were getting ready together this morning, she studied me in the mirror, and said wistfully, "I wish you could visit me every day." 

Me too. Me. too.

Tim and I left this morning and had a leisurely trip home with a couple side trips. We had a late supper, tomato soup with grilled cheese, and then walked out to take the shopping cart someone left in front of our house back to the grocery store where it belonged. We made a circle to the library and then walked back home. 

The evening breeze was cool. It feels like rain is coming in. A comfortable night for a walk and a good way to work the kinks out after our day in the car. 

Hairy the cat met us on the side walk, and he was glad to see us, leading the way up the driveway. Car Cat was there too, and they both meowed and led the way up to the driveway where they knew that they would be fed. 

My house seems so quiet after a weekend with a baby and a four year old. 

Condolences

 My condolences to her subjects. I cannot claim to be an expert on foreign politics, but she seemed a grand lady.

Bye!

 Headed east to celebrate my son's birthday Friday morning. I'm taking the makings for pepperoni rolls, the comfort food of my children's childhood. His oldest daughter will help me roll out the dough and layer the pepperoni and cheese and then roll it all back up. I picked tomatoes today and tomorrow I will make another batch of sauce for dipping the pepperoni rolls in.

Doubt I'll get a post in before I leave because I will be cooking most of the day tomorrow and getting ready to leave. 

See you Tuesday-ish. 

The Good Stuff

 Yesterday morning, when I went out, the orange and white tabby was in the back yard. 

The previous day I had seen him for the first time, He slunk out from beneath the dump truck to where two of my other strays were feeding from their dishes. There was some growling, so I got another dish of food and set it out for the newcomer who had returned to hide under the dump truck. This guy looked so awful that I would have given him a can of 'the good stuff', but I didn't want a cat fight.

When I pulled out of the driveway, he'd once again come out from beneath the truck and was eating ravenously. 

I was glad to see him back, and so right away, I went inside and got the last can of good stuff from the top of the fridge and gave it to him. He's very wary. He stood up when I approached with the dish, prepared to bolt. I got as close as I thought I could without scaring him off, set the dish on the ground with a few kind words, and then went back inside to watch. 

He was very interested in the food, but made a great show of grooming himself while keeping a close eye on that food dish. Finally, he dared to move a bit closer to it. And then closer still...and before too awful long he was polishing the bottom of the bowl. 

Tim does not hate the cats, but he's not happy about them. He's not a fan of animals in the house. He never has been. These cats aren't, but I think he has this horrible fear that they will be once the weather turns bad.

But....

He does not mind the occasional bag of kibble.

He doesn't mind the little collection of china bowls that I picked up from Goodwill to keep them fed. 

He did wince a little when I spent $30 on Ivermectin for Mangey. 

He also began to look a bit unhappy when I needed the good food. I could mix the ivermectin into it, and Mangey would gobble down the full dose. 

But for all of that, Mangey healed up so remarkably quickly that Tim stopped complaining at all. He now comes around so infrequently that the little stack of cans sat on top of the fridge for a month or so, which I am sure that Tim found reassuring. 

But now there is another, and I'd fed him the last can of the good stuff. 

I had to pick up a few groceries and thought to pick up another half dozen cans of cat food. It is 83 cents a can. Because I am thrifty, I compared single price cans to multipacks. It got very pricey very quickly. But...I saw one case of 9-Lives. It contained 36 cans. It was $22.84, which worked out to 63 cents a can. Plus, each can was 5.5 oz compared to the fancy feast I'd been buying which was 3 oz. I could get two meals from each can. Doing some math, I figured that I'd be cutting the costs of my feral cat hobby by more than half. 

Tim was not happy to see the carton of cat food. Even with the explanation. 

Huh. 

But I fixed him right up. I can barely keep up with the tomatoes coming ripe in the garden so I've spent a lot of time in the kitchen lately. I made up a batch of my best spaghetti sauce yet. (secret: sautee the peppers, onions, garlic and mushrooms in a little olive oil, and then add the tomatoes and simmer.) I made homemade meat balls. He couldn't stop raving about how great this batch of sauce had turned out. "It's perfect," he said. 

Cats aren't the only critters that like the good stuff.

Yard sale

 Yesterday, we dressed up and headed to our favorite little restaurant. It was not open. It should have been based on the hours posted on the door. 

All was not lost. Across the road was a yard sale. There was a LOT of old furniture and tables of stuff. My spidey senses began to tingle.

We darted across the road. Settees. Tables. A chest. Several secretary style desks. Chairs. I mean, probably 50 pieces of furniture...and did I mention the tables of s.t.u.f.f? Dishes. Glassware. Assorted geegaws.

But not one thing was marked with a price. I HATE that. Especially for furniture. There are so many variables. How old is the piece? Condition? Has the piece been rehabbed? Is it a good job or a bad one? I saw a secretary desk.

It still had the key. Good.

It had been completely stripped. If it was really old, this was not good. It was probably a chemical stripper. Pieces had come unglued. The back was broke.

While I was doing my thinking, the man running the show came over and asked what I was looking at in a fussy British accent, which was a bit of a surprise.

I asked the price for the desk, and he began to tell me about how valuable the piece was without giving any numbers. Just that quickly, he began to go down the rows of furniture, telling me how valuable they were, and what they were...no prices given. 

Well, I decided that I was not interested in furniture. I did not need it anyways. I stepped over to a table and picked up a water pitcher. I turned it over and it was marked 'silver solder' which is, by definition, 65% silver with other metal (usually copper and zinc).

Behind me came that snippy British accent. "That is pure silver," he informed me. 

"Actually, it isn't," I began but he interrupted to snap "it IS!"

I put the pitcher on the table and headed for the car. 

The accent came from the porch and across the lawn and tried to chase me. "That is pure sterling silver!"

I shook my head. " it is absolutely not." A man standing near the table picked up the pitcher and carefully set it back down. He gave me a broad grin.

Cemetery Visit

We were headed out for supper but had a bit of difficulty finding something open. We wound up on a street we had never been on before and stumbled on a very well maintained cemetery. 

It was not especially old. Titusville came into prominence August 27th, 1859 when Col. Drake struck oil here, the world's first oil well. With the oil came many a "boom town". Titusville was one of them that managed to survive. There were many very wealthy residents.

The cemetery was donated to Titusville by Joseph Seep, a German immigrant who made his money by purchasing Standard's output and presumably getting it to market to resell.

So while the cemetery was not especially old, the names on the family plots were historically notable so that you could google as you walked among the stones.

Tim was howling at this one. The fellow had two wives named Mary. There was also one named Bridgette on the other side of the stone. He wasn't buried there. We tried to find him but could not. We think he was probably buried with his final wife somewhere.

It was a nice walk under old trees. Far off thunder rumbled.

We never did get to our planned destination, but neither of us minded. 

Earlier in the afternoon, I was leaving the house when one of my strays showed up. I stopped to feed 'Hairy'. While I was doing that, 'Car Cat' came strolling up, so I set out a dish for him too. He still will not be petted. I closed the door and walked past the cats only to see yet another cat, an orange and white tabby, wretchedly thin and acting very unwell. I set out another bowl for the poor thing. He hid under the dump truck as I set his bowl down, but he was eating ravenously before I was backed out of the driveway.

To Sleep or Not to Sleep

 William was pretty excited to get picked up today, because he's headed to Erie. His mother is picking up her new eyeglasses, but also Spirit Halloween has opened for the season. William has always been a big fan of Halloween decorations and will happily spend hours walking up and down the aisles of Lowe's looking at all the animatronics and Halloween decorations. These Spirit stores are open just for two months. They go into an empty store in September and pull everything out by November 2nd. The one in Erie is a superstore. I imagine that William will never want to leave. 

It is where he got last year's Halloween costume. 

If I were his parents, he'd be wearing the same costome this year, 

but I'm not so I will keep my big mouth shut. 

Anyhoo. 

It's also National Cinema Day. 
Participating theaters are offering $3 movie tickets, and so they are going to take advantage of that while they are in Erie. William is just about beside himself. They are going to see Jaws in 3D. 

I imagine he won't sleep for a week. 

Grandma and Grandpa are on our own, and we're not going to let the weekend go to waste. We're headed to see the Titusville Iron Works. The historical displays will be nice and Tim wants to hear the live music and have a beer. 

Maybe there will be a wine cooler for a lightweight such as myself. 

Once I get that down, I imagine that I'll sleep for a week.

Biscuits, explained.

I was making biscuits again here. There was some discussion about biscuits the last time that I mentioned them. These are biscuits on my side of the pond. You can split them and serve them with chicken gravy or sausage gravy over them. Or you can drizzle syrup on them for the mornings. You can make egg sandwiches out of them. Our favorite way is to have them fresh from the oven with a good butter mix. If you use this recipe (which is my favorite), note that he doesn't mention the oven temp which is 425 F for 12-15 minutes. Note also that you can whip a batch of these up, and then freeze them, baking them two at a time or something. There is something very nice about a piping hot biscuit with dinner. 

I like to make a flavored butter for them. 

Honey butter, which is a healthy jolt of honey, a drip of vanilla, and probably a half cup of room temperature butter. You can add more honey to taste if you want. Blend it together. I use my immersion blender with the whisk attachment. Once it is blended, I put it in the refrigerator until I'm ready to use it. 

Another butter we like is cinnamon butter. which is about half a cup of butter. a quarter cup of confectioner sugar and one teaspoon of sugar blended together. 

The butter is best spread on biscuits or bread as it comes right out of the oven. 

Anyways, I wanted to explain the biscuit part to you. 

So I was making biscuits yesterday to go with supper. We had company coming over. Tim walked in and said, 'your friends are out here...' I know what he's talking about, and he's pretty unhappy. Mangey comes back every couple weeks, and to be honest, he seems to come back for the human interaction as much as the food. I got the good stuff from the top of the fridge and went outside. I did not have time to stop and play with him. He stood watching me sadly through the kitchen glass for some time. It was only when another stray came slinking over to check out the food dish situation, that Mangey decided to eat. 

(Don't worry. I made it up to him this morning. I also went back out and gave the second cat some dinner too.)

There are three strays showing up here regularly now. One of them irritates Tim because he looks for a rolled down car window and hops inside to make himself comfortable for a little snooze.

 

He is not hurting anything, and really, it's easy enough for Tim to keep his windows up. Then I wouldn't have to listen to him howling when it starts to rain and he hasn't noticed it until his car has gotten a good soaking. I tell Tim the same thing that I tell William: 'Every problem has a solution.' 

(Of course, I have no room to talk. I had washed the cotton bathrugs and had them drying outside. When they are wet, they are so heavy that I worry about damage to the dryer belt. They had been out all day, and were just about dry when the skies opened up. Tim was upset about his car. I was upset about once again soaking wet rugs. We're a pair.) 

But back to the cats, when we get the house built, we'll probably move those three cats right along with us, if they are amenable to the idea. Mousers would be useful to have, and Tim is agreeable to that. He likes a working animal. I'll probably move Mangey inside if he wants to come for the winter. Tim will NOT be agreeable to that. I'll probably see if the tabby (car cat) wants to join us. The long haired black one we tried to bring in a few winters back. It was not successful. He wanted to be an outside cat.

The property is being surveyed down the street. It will be good to have that officially mapped out and fenced in. I will never understand what started the whole thing, but people are mad! Even neighbors across the street who have no skin the game, so to speak. Before it is all said and done, we will have spent $3000+ to end the hostilities. We also chose not to renew a lease over it, which was the first time we've ever had to do that. 

William is back at school. I'll be walking across the bridge to meet him tonight. We'll be going to the camp to pick tomatoes, among other things. It will be fun to hear what he thinks of school.

So there is your update. 

Anyways, the biscuits got done, and supper was nice, a pleasant visit with an old friend.