Category: daily life

Finished All the Pretty Horses today. It was an excellent book, one I will read again I am sure and pause to savor bits and pieces. John Grady Cole and Lacey Rawlins were setting out for trouble from the beginning although they didn’t quite realize it. It was so painfully plain, not so much Rawlins, but Cole was one of those unfortunate young men, so right and yet at the same time so wrong. Trouble was destined to find him and even revolve around him, without his ever understanding how or why, much less seeing his responsibility in attracting it. I was sad to put the book down.

I immediately started another though; the demands of the exercise bicycle are always present, after all. The new book is Sweetwater Creek by Anne Rivers Siddons, which promises to be quite different. I’ve not read any of Siddons books but the first couple of chapters of this one have drawn me right in – a huge change from the world of words I just left.

Otherwise all has been mundane and hectic all at once. We moved the chairs in the family room on Monday with the goal of attempting to see how the room would work if they were actually in front of the fireplace. Of course this raises the issue of the television, and the stereo speakers as well. We ended up spending far more time than we initially thought, but have come up with three potential scenarios. The next step will be to plot some drawings on graph paper to check to see that things will fit and how before me make more decisions and start thinking about getting estimates for some work. I don’t see how anything will be accomplished merely by rearranging furniture. A minimum of a little electrical and carpentry work will be required, but not as extensive of renovation work as I had originally feared. I don’t think either one of is ready to start the whole contractor wheel going again, a little breathing room is required. Still I am feeling great hope, and far more excitement for the prospects in the family room and dining room than I have felt for some time. Still there are many things to finish before I get started on this project, including my sewing room closet; I STILL have not finalized the plans for that, much ordered the components. With Harvey coming for a visit the beginning of April, time is running short – I can’t use the guest room as a sewing closet and fabric storage area forever.

The biggest suck on my time now is the office computer, which is dying a slow death. I should say it is just dead, but that is not completely true; we are keeping it going on life-support. An equipment swap was performed yesterday, just because the secretary had to have something to get through the day, but things are not going well. The scheduling program we used for 11 years disappeared a few years back and won’t run on any version of windows more recent than Windows 98. A constant bevy of phone calls and trips between offices seems mostly to drive my available time down to fragments and I see a future littered with interruptions and fixes, at least for the short term. Even buying a new computer won’t solve these problems. There are certainly days when running one’s own business, and being married to the boss, is a trial. Not that the boss is a trial, but I look back fondly on the days when I could close the door on the office in the evening and be truly “off duty”. What an interesting concept.

Exhaustion seems to be the state of the day. 

Up at 5 because back was simply too sore to stay in bed any longer.  Worked on drawings for a potential new shelving system in sewing room closet.  I can’t seem to leave well enough alone.  Since it fell down I feel compelled to try and make it better, besides I am moving the shoes which gives me the opportunity to rearrange the storage in this closet as well.

Rode bike an hour, then normal breakfast, shower, dress and face the day routine.

Spent day battling closets.  Master bedroom closet1, site of future shoe closet, is finally stripped of the old shelving system.  The guy who put it up built it to fit, no way to get it out without dismantling it, and all the screws had been stripped when they went in.  I finally just had to saw it in pieces on site.  Well I took it down from the wall bracket on which it was suspended first.  That too was a bitch to remove.  It consisted of a long metal strip with a hang ledge.  All the screws were completely stripped and most were in at angles.  I finally got them out just barely enough to force a hacksaw behind the strip and saw the screws off.  Took me much of the day.  Then much patching and repairing of wallboard.  Closets in this house were never primed or painted, just bare wallboard with paper sitll exposed.  Badly damaged. Much work.

Priming and painting tomorrow.

In between I folded, measured, and took inventory of the old sewing room closet contents so that I can account for everything in the new plan, make sure it works on paper before I tear out even more.  Why change?  The old system worked, not perfectly perhaps, but it worked, without the shoes I should have more room. But I can’t help thinking it could be better; well it can be better, getting things out of the corners was impossible; hard to reach impossible to see.

When I haven’t been hammering, using a screwdriver, sawing, banging and cursing, I have been measuring fabric storage requirements and carrying piles of fabric down to the other end of the house, presorted by eventual storage location (shelf number).  I can see half the sewing table now.

But I want to change.  Besides I have to repaint the closet now that I have replaced damaged lumber and put up new wallboard and patched the holes. 

Not much going on at all, and I just putter about, thinking I should be doing something useful but not doing it any way.  There is more than enough to do; but then isn’t that the point of 21st century life that we all always have so much to do that there is never enough time to do nothing?

I revel in nothing.  Well, not exactly true either, but I do revel in these days when G goes off to work.  Often Tuesday is a very busy day,  but sometimes it is just a puttering day.  Today was a puttering type of day.  I was happy to have no one in the house, mine all mine.  What is this leaning of mine toward the solitary life?  Oh I don’t want to lead a solitary life all the time, I adore my husband and I adore his company.  But I seriously doubt there is anyone I would want to see all day every day.  I like spending time alone far too much for that.

So today, what happened?  Not much.  I puttered with the computer.  I made bean soup.  I cleaned out a closet, unearthing a few things I hadn’t thought about for a long time.  I am taking the small closet that was my original master-bedroom closet and turning it into the shoe closet.  The shoes are being moved.  Right now they are on the floor of my sewing room in all their glorious excess, where I moved them after the sewing room closet shelves collapsed — oh I didn’t tell you about that. Well the shelves collapsed.  Blame the woodpeckers, pecked right through the beams.  Thought they were building a condo with a Hudson river view.  Foiled.  But they took the support for my shelves with them (not to mention the roof).  More repair bills.

The shoes aren’t the only homeless possessions.  There is fabric piled up everywhere.  I can’t even sew it up because there is no place to work since the contents of the closet are piled on every available surface. 

Having emptied one closet I moved on to a second, the bedroom closet mentioned above.  I found my college journals — amateur sophomoric musings and adolescent angst.  But amusing at times. There are still a few things to move, I have not been efficient with these occasional forays down memory lane.  Once the closet is empty I might as well paint it before putting up new shelves and moving the shoes to their new home.   What color shall it be?  pale green?  I will probably use some color currently existing in the basement inventory.  Let it be a surprise.

Life has been busy:  too busy to read, too busy to pursue hobbies, too busy to cook too busy to write.  There are things to report, if I still remember them when time is more forgiving, updates will be forthcoming.

If not, dream on….

I am still exploring Knoxville. Yesterday’s errands sent me to the western side of town, I suppose far in local terms, but not really.  It took me less time on the road than any attempt at shopping at home; the mileage might be smaller but the time spent traveling is far greater in New York.  Tennessee is able to build far more and better roads than New York without the excessive gas tax.  That is not to say that all other things are equal though.

Yesterday my conversations with people I met seemed to center around families with children.  There was the store where I tried to make some photocopies, where Dad ran the store and Mom had just come in with their twin daughters to bring lunch.  It is a fairly new enterprise and although they are on target so far, Dad is the sole employee of the business and so is there all day six days a week from about 9 until 6.  His 7 month old twin daughters bring him lunch everyday and afford a little break and family time.

At another small store, mom was filling in for an absent employee for a few hours and had her 5 month old son in his car-seat carrier with her at the counter.  The junior entrepreneur was fascinated by the sounds and lights made by the copy machine as it did its work; he’ll be taking it apart before his parents are ready, I’m sure.

I was much more successful in my pursuit of perfect vegetables this time, I suppose learning delivery times is an important consideration in any town.  I managed to come home with some lovely chard which will be transformed into soup for lunch today.

On my way to the store I stopped at the local wine store to pick up another bottle for a little evening indulgence of a glass before bed, or after dinner is made and while we are waiting for Owen to settle down so that his mom can enjoy her dinner.  When I arrived, I was the only customer, but it must have been a brief lull for the place quickly filled up. As I perused the shelves, trying to decide which one bottle I felt like drinking, I had a nice conversation with a young woman in her mid twenties who was scanning the rows of Spanish wines.  She too was exploring.  She and her husband have gotten interested in wine and have started drinking and trying different things.  She said they worked out a budget and decided that if they were careful they could spend $25 a week on wine, and they buy weekly because it is more fun and easier to manage.  Some weeks they buy two bottles or even 3 if they are lucky and some they buy one.  Some weeks they don’t spend all the money so they save it up for something special another time.  They are having a great time and she is learning the kinds of things they like and why and having lots of fun.  We didn’t talk of anything else but wine and learning.  She is interested in Spanish wines right now, Temperanillo especially. The conversation brought a smile to my face,

But now, the kitchen calls again and there is a pot of soup waiting to be made.

I am in Knoxvile, Tennessee, where I am becoming acquainted with my new grandson. He is stil working on the finer points of personality develoment; I suspect this will take a while, but certain patterns are starting to form and he has the household jumping and yielding to his will.  I remind him that this, the first few weeks of life are truly the only time that the world revolves around one person, and that he should make the most of it while he can.   Of course one beatific little smile, or o-shaped pout and the world falls at his feet once again.

Meanwhile I am enjoying Knoxville.  I have long thought it was not a bad town.   I think I was more positive when Miriam first moved here and I have learned to see more potential during the intervening years.  Still, when G starts talking about the post-retirement move, a little panic sets in.  At this point the panic revolves around grocery shopping but this is not unique to Knoxville.  I forget how lucky I am in my proximity to New York City and the Culinary Institute.  In many ways Dutchess County is closer in attitude to Knoxville than NYC, but in terms of provisioning I am truly spoiled.  I am surrounded by good farms that produce vegetables, poultry, meat, and cheese, all of which survive because of the availability of New York City restaurants and farmer’s markets, and which for the most part do not survivce due to the efforts of local residents.  This cornucopia was not there when I moved to the area.  The local farm-stand-evolved into upscale market sells good fish and meat as weill as fine olive oils and vinegars, not always up to my standards, but superior to most of what I have found so far down here.  I suppose if we moved I would have a vegetable garden again, or lose interest in food, or become well acquainted with my UPS delivery person.

But this problem would not be unique to Tennessee.  Besides. Miriam is looking for a position beginning next fall.  Who knows where the new family will end up. 

Otherwise, I am enjoying the mild weather, cooking, cleaning, and holding my grandson.   Grandparent duty is more than adequate pay for a little scut work.  And as for cooking, well it has been some years since I fed a family regularly for three meals a day, I am enjoying it.  But then I always cooked, even when I worked full time and G’s kids would spend summers or vacations with us.  I thought nothing of coming home from a long day of work and puttering in the kitchen.  45 minutes was my workday time-frame.  If I could put the meal together in 45 minutes or less I was content with the effort involved. I can’t remember when I last had a job I left by 5 PM, when I was working full time anyway, but I also can’t recall when I didn’t thnk preparing the evening meal worth the effort.   Weekends of course were play time, when I could experiment in the kitchen and tackle grander culinary delights. 

How strange my step-children found this emphasis on family meals.  How oddly they occasionally looked at me when I insisted that everone be at the table at dinner time.  How many times do I recall my incomprehension at a young adult who would go to MacDonalds 30 minutes before dinner time and then be too full to eat.    It is hard to enforce new standards and habits on people whose normal routine is different, and in whose lives you are not an  authority. 

I don’t expect anyone will continue the good works when I am gone, but I am happy to feed them in the meantime, just as I am happy to prowl the aisles of the local WalMart and Kroger as well as various esoteric food markets looking for something to put on the dinner table.  So far I find WalMart preferable to Kroger, or at least I don’t find the difference to be worth the effort.  The produce does not shine at either one, but I have had more success at WalMart.  Surprising.  I don’t really dislike Walmart, in fact there are quite a few thins I like about it, and I have no trouble buying groceries there.  It is just too large and overwhelming as a whole, and liberal intellectuals are not supposed to like WalMart, because they don’t pay their employees enough or offer insurance to all of them.  Support the local markets I am told.  But we all like the cheap prices.  We also all forget that our local markets don’t necessarily pay a liveable wage either, or offer health insurance; at least they don’t where I live.  Perhaps some people are more fortunate. 

And so I explore this world of big box stores and cheap gas.  Put me on a limited access freeway and my inner Texan comes out, zipping along happily with the other American gas guzzlers.  Add to this the fact that gas is over a dollar cheaper than it is at home and I have no qualms exploring even though some little nagging voice tells me that I should.  Give me a chance to explore Super Target, or Hobby Lobby or some other wonderful example of American Marketing and I enjoy the challenge.  Think of it as a sociological study. Imagine how wonderous this must seem to much of the world.  Who am I, beneficiary that I am off American wealth, to complain of the availability of more food and stuff than any person needs or could ever use up.

It is a wonderous world my little grandson has been born into, far different than the world either I or is parents entered oh so many years ago.  What will it be like when he is our age?

What have I done today? Sometimes I don’t remember and I wonder what I did all day and why nothing got done on the big projects: All in all it was a typical day for a housewife and part-time office manager, and I am happy with what was accomplished.  I really have no complaints about my life but I harbor suspicions that I could get a lot more done if I tried harder.

We got up a little early this morning at 6:30. I was very draggy this morning and moving slowly.
Made Breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen, made bed.
Put away yesterday’s handwash.  Washed pantyhose followed by a silk sweater. 

Added water to the pool for one hour.   Swept deck and front walk.

Cleaned all 3 bathrooms including thoroughly cleaning out vanity and cosmetic cabinets in yellow bathroom.  Master bathroom only required a few grungy spots and areas that George tends to miss on Mondays.

Washed outside of Stove Vent

Washed towels and bath mats.

Ordered yoghurt from Old Chatham Sheepherding Company.
Called Shirley Cunningham and had nice discussion about her fitting system and ordered first part of fitting program and a couple of books.
Post to Purls and Murmurs

By that time it was 11:00 and time for me to get dressed and ready for the day.
Attempted to call Mom, left message.                   
Read Times Literary Supplement of 9/23/2005

12:30 left house:
    manicure at Polished
    Mother Earth’s for gluten-free groceries
    PetCo for a fresh water circulating dish for Tabasco, and cat clippers.
    Sew N Vac to pick up the scissors that were mended.
    Post Office for mail

Home at 3:00
Talk to Mom
Office billing, payroll and miscellaneous accounting and bookkeeping work

6:00 Feed Tabasco and assemble new “fresh flow” water bowl.  Tabasco accepts flowing water immediately and rejects bowl of standing water.

Knit until George comes home. 

George comes home at 7:30.  Talk. 
Cook dinner: approximately 30 minutes:
    Breaded Veal Cutlets
    Fresh Tomato wedges
    Buckwheat spaetzle with garlic
    peas with Shiitake mushrooms

Plan menu for next week.
Make grocery list.
Finish knitting last sleeve of Posh. 

Place order with Professional Cutlery Direct.  Computer is slow .  I order replacement utensils but forget to order roasting pan I wanted.  It will keep.

Continue reading “A Bolt from the Blue and Other Essays” by Mary McCarthy

Lights out at about 12 Midnight.