Sunday...more scraping

Oh--there was a lot of scraping today.  Yesterday, we returned  a suspicious package of our soy based gel to the Sherman Williams store. (it looked like it had been opened--though perhaps it was just deterioration of seal, also a different color than the previous batch).

The young employees were singularly uninterested in what the mystery might be--and happily refunded the $16.38.  We did not buy anything else there, but instead went to Wal-mart--our primary purpose was to buy Sam cheap boots and sneakers but we also bought some extremely toxic (and of course more effective) paint stripper--which Sam has been applying in great swaths to the door and trim--and chipping diligently away.  Oh--it is tedious work--demanding, as all the internet instructions say--great great patience.

The lead of course is toxic, as well as the stripper.  I told Sam he should wear the mask he and Sarah had bought weeks ago but a close reading of the fine print reveals it is not to be used for lead paint--I tell myself he will be fine as 1)his brain is fully formed and won't be damaged by the lead--which at least he won't be eating and 2) since we're outside ventilation is not a question and not too much will be inhaled.  let us hope.

More scapes and scrapes

more scraping

About to start scraping, Sam opened our new paint stripper and found it dubious.  We'd picked it off the sales table at Sherwin-Williams (I'd actually bought the same stripper last year off the same table)--but the new purchase was a different color and the cap had been eaten away.  It's officially "soy-based" and not as toxic--but this bottle did not inspire much confidence. The young salesmen didn't have much interest in our concerns, but they were happy enough to refund our purchase and send us on our way.  Next stop was Walmart--this New Jersey living provides all sorts of new retail experiences on a regular basis--our goal was to outfit Sam with rubber boots and sneakers so he will be happier walking on the newly mown roads when he takes breaks from his massive scraping efforts. And, indeed both products were readily available at ridiculously low prices--plus we bought an

As my efforts don't seem to be making a major dent in the project, I retreat downstairs for more research on home appliances and garlic scapes.  What can I say?  I am much happier thinking about cooking projects than buying sinks and faucets.  When Sarah was here, we all agreed on a quite perfect sink, which I will soon order--but I do procrastinate.

more scapes

As part of this procrastination, I cleaned the kitchen and experimented with grilling scapes for an afternoon snack.

I wasn't exactly sure what I was doing--I had imagined long perfectly grilled coils--but the grilling wasn't even.  The more narrow bits, especially when they were charred a bit were perfection--the thicker sections did not quite cook through--perhaps they should have been peeled.  I ended up cutting them into three or four inch segments, topped them with ground pepper, salt and lemon juice.  I'd eaten all the less then perfect segments before bringing the remainder to scraping Sam who found them a splendid delicious mystery treat.

Moving forward--meetings, scraping, shopping and more.

Picked up Sam at Dover train station last night.  He zoomed back from NYC to be at my meeting  with George and Karl, the plumber, this morning.

We had many plans and lists from Sarah--plans for the new bathroom and kitchen and lists of fixtures and appliances to be installed therein. After weeks of so little movement (George was finishing up another job, Karl was kept busy repairing lightning damaged water pumps), it felt like progress was on hand.

We walked through the house, marveling (as we always do) at the wreckage and weirdness that permeates all things.  Karl will give us some kind of staged estimate next week--and if all things are more or less as expected (not cheap, but broken down enough so we can manage the beginnings), we will proceed.

Buoyed by the meeting, we first headed out to do a couple of chores--bringing the garbage to the end of the road, a visit to our favorite farm stand to buy tomatoes, green beans, lettuce, basil and parsley, then a spin to Ideal Farms for still more garlic scapes and home where I made completely superior French toast with slices from the brioche loaf we'd bought at Fairway last week and a delicious salad of red and yellow tomatoes and basil purchased (and we are assuming picked) just hours before.

Now--we are really moving forward.  Sam is scraping like a champion.  We did a fair amount of research on stripping paint.  Our conclusion:  for elaborate trim and molding, there are no shortcuts. We are planning to repaint, so there is really no need to get down to the bare wood (if we were going to stain it in its original glory that would be mandatory), but the paint was put on so poorly, and comes off so raggedly, that we do get down to the wood in most areas.    There are all sorts of chemicals, heat guns, specially made pieces of heating equipment to address this task, but due to the lack of flat surfaces in our project, we don't really have that much choice.  Last summer I'd bought a soy based paint stripper which I had used unsuccessfully on the floor of the screened in porch.  After days of scraping, we gave up and ended up hiring someone with a fine sanding machine to do the job.  But this year, using the stripper   We have an array of quite good tools.  A scraper with many different shaped blades as well as an assortment of putty scrapers, razor blades, etc.

There is tons of discussion on the internet about various methods and techniques.  Some methods might be better or less toxic than others, but for this kind of trim work, there are no pleasant solutions. 

Sam is much more adept than I, but I try to do my bit while also shopping on-line for bathroom fixtures--sinks, faucets, etc.  More on all that soon enough.

More scraping and mowing and another trip digression--Wichita to Kansas City...

Thursday afternoon--clouding over--after many hours of scraping yesterday, I seem to be taking the day off, letting my tired hands heal.

Phil from Fish and Game knocked on the door to report that he had cut a path all the way to Hicks Avenue--so there will be some fine (if mosquito abundant) walking in the very near future.  He then most kindly offered to mow the field in front of the house with that immense brush bull so all is looking very well-manicured indeed.

Sam will be returning this evening from NYC, Logan and Gabrielle might be dropping by soon, and tomorrow George and Karl are scheduled to show up around 8am to discuss plumbing plans...so the mode of the moment is waiting.

Instead of plowing ahead, I'll continue my backward journey and see if I can take this moment to continue my over-due and truncated  account of the final days of this most recent trip east.

I left Wichita as scheduled.  I was aiming to get to Cleveland about  late afternoon on Thursday.  I was about 17 hours away (according to Google which is never far off).  This meant I wanted to drive as far as possible on Wednesday.  Alas, in my enthusiasm, or distraction, or whatever, I made my first major travel error and  missed the turn-off to Emporia.  It took me a while to realize this.  I compulsively check my distances--and instead of getting closer to Cleveland--I was getting further away.  Instead of doing the hypotenuse of the triangle--I was set on a path to do the two legs--heading towards Salina--oh dear.  I was adding, rather than subtracting hours from my journey.  That was not good.

Hoping to turn disaster into adventure,  I left the highway with the hope of driving due east in the hope of hooking up with the road I'd missed.  Bad idea.  The road got narrower and narrow, soon turned to dirt--and there was no recourse but to re-trace my steps.

So--back to heading due north to Salina--then east through Topeka and on through Kansas City.  Given the grand distances I was traversing and the early hour of my departure, this wasn't an enormous set-back, but I did worry about too late an arrival in Cleveland.  Despite my worries, it was not much after 2pm when I found myself on Route 70 driving through Kansas City.  Pleased that I was ahead of rush hour, I was busy calculating how far I might drive that day, when I noted, out of the corner of my eye (is this a correct memory?) a small sign for Arthur Bryant's bar-b-que.

Years ago, Calvin Trillin had convinced me that this was one site of American nirvana, but in previous trips, influenced by endless internet chatter on the merits of all K.C. meateries, and the inevitable decline of Arthur Bryant's since Mr. Bryant's passing, I had decided not to make the detour (when I follow the proper route, I bypass downtown).  Instead, I lunched in a suburban branch of highly rated Jack Stack--the food was great--I got some huge sampler platter which provided plenty of left-overs for dinner that night--but it was a far cry from whatever I thought I'd expected.  I had been happier in fact at Hog Wild, a less heralded (as far as I know) barbecue in Wichita that Tom took me to.

But that was years ago.  Now, spotting this Freeway sign, despite my vow to drive great distances,  I couldn't resist taking the exit (in fact, I missed the exit--but successfully navigated the next one just a few blocks on), and within minutes found myself at the original Arthur Bryant's on Brooklyn Avenue.


Oh--no time to finish now--I was hoping to make this my last trip installment, but that will have to wait a bit.  I am trying to be relaxed about abandoning my strict chronology (time was I would have back-dated and buried this--but have now shifted to more accurately reflect the time-shifting patterns of my skittish brain.  So...all will soon be continued--I hope. 

Scapes, scraping and more..

Wednesday

Sam had to be in the city to move out of cousin Jame's apartment and let in the cleaning lady.  To facilitate all this, I drove him to catch the 9:03 train in Dover. 

scrapes

scapes

Before leaving, I packed the car with recyclables, and most efficiently stopped at the dump on my return trip.  Also stopped at Ideal Farm and Garden store on Route 15.  It's the heir to Ideal Farms, the dairy farm that was our neighbor through the fifties and sixties.  The Guernsey cows are long gone, but there are various allusions to those dairying days around the current shop where I picked up a few tomatoes and garlic scapes.  I don't know if I'd ever seen these green curlicues before.  I haven't tackled them yet, but a bit of internet research suggests that scapes might be the secret to all things.  Although I don't believe I've ever even seen them before, they are clearly have been an item in the food world for at least three years as evidenced by this article from the New York Times.  First the dump, then garlic scapes and the New Yorker in my P.O. Box.  A fine day indeed. Home before 11:00am and using array of new scraping tools made serious inroads on door project--though not quite sure how much change is visible to the naked eye.

While I scraped away at centuries of paint, the men from Fish and Game were circling the lake with their very large machinery.    Finishing their labors for the day, they left their Brush Bull resting on the lawn.   I circled the lake and walked down to Hyper Humus marveling at all the shearing they'd done as well.

Hot Days in the City...then back to work

Thursday morning headed to New York.  The radio crackled with warnings for the entire nation to be on extreme heat alert.  We are all inside an enormous heat dome.  The mid-west has been suffering for weeks, but it will be arriving in New York to welcome me. 

Sarah was going to be away so I thought I'd stay there taking advantage of more ample Brooklyn parking, but decided to stay at Jackie's for many reasons.

It was a morning of many shifting plans.  I was going to go over the George Washington Bridge and zip into Brooklyn--I thought I'd park, and if there was time, I'd bring my stuff via subway to Jackie's before meeting Regina, Elaine and Barbara (friends from kindergarden in Jersey City--oh so many decades ago) at the Union Square Cafe for a Restaurant Week bargain lunch.

well-traveled Camry at rest

My Google phone gps suggested the trip through the Holland Tunnel would be easy and indeed it was.  The drive  to Brooklyn, however, looked more ominous. The heat dome was pressing--and in response to a blast of parking chutzpah, I decided to take a quick spin through the West Village--maybe -- just maybe the alternate side of the street parking regulations would be in my favor.  And indeed they were.  I know this is only of interest to an ever-dwindling number of serious New York City parking place hunters--but marvel of marvels--my timing was perfect.  I arrived in the city around noon, and as can be seen on this sign on Sullivan Street--this was at the end of a no-parking period that ended at 12:30.  If I could find a spot--I'd be good throughtout by New York stay.  Reader, I found it.

After that parking triumph, everything else fell wondrously into place.  A splendid lunch with Regina, Elaine and Barbara, which stretched into visits and drinks with Michael and Billy, then a visit with Jackie on Wooster Street.   The next day, I met Dick and Carol in from Newbury at the Met.  It was even hotter than Thursday, but we had a fine air-conditioned art-filled time.  First, the  Richard Serra Drawings followed by a quick cafeteria lunch and a trot through the European galleries.  We were long over due for a proper visit--and what better spot than the long line snaking through many galleries en route to the Alexander McQueen exhibit?  It had been on none of our "must-see" lists, but the exhibit was a wild installation of fashions we'd never imagined--and putting aside all questions of art, fashion, commerce, etc.   A fine time was had by all. The roof garden (where we had decided not to go because of the heat--was in fact closed because of the heat, which shows at least that we were all aware of many extenuating circumstances. 

Dick and Carol headed downtown.  Blithely ignoring the record heat,  walked the few blocks north to the Jewish Museum to view  the many Matisses and other treasures of the remarkable Coen sisters of Baltimore, the upstairs to the Maira Kalman.   Who should be in the corner of one of the exhibition rooms but Maira Kalman herself.  She sets up a little pop-up store in a corner and sells sundry artifacts for $5.00 each --proceeds to the Central Park Conservancy and Wheels on Meals.  I bought tiny Einstein pins, "imagination is more important than knowledge."  The pins come in little votive candle size cans in brown envelopes which I had Ms. Kalman inscribe in her famous hand-writing to Sarah and Sam, both long time fans. 

Hurried across the park for a brief visit with Nancy and George, then downtown to meet Jackie.  Craving air-conditioning, we thought we'd see "The Trip."  It was sold out, so always flexible, instead we watched Tabloid, by Errol Morros--which was weird and wonderful in its own peculiar way.

Saturday morning--I drove to Harlem to pick up Sam---and then for the first time went to the Fairway Market on 12th avenue and 130th or wherever.  It's most splendid feature is a huge refrigerator section--which is to say--a huge portion of the store is a giant refrigerator--shelves lined with meat, milk, cheeses and other perishables--you can wear one of their down jackets---or you can just get delightfully chilled as you shop (we chose the latter).

Expert scraper at work

Then --back to New Jersey where we have been addressing ourselves to all sorts of household chores...many many hours scraping 200 years of paint off the front door-way.  Taking a break from our Fairway food supply, we just went (my first time there also) to the Chinese restaurant in town--a huge cantonese palace with carved carrot flowers and fried noodles with duck sauce.  Hooray for that as well!

Trip east continued: On through New Mexico to Kansas and beyond

Another easy drive to Santa Fe.  Well, easy until I got to the city.  Although I'd  spent some time in Santa Fe working on the Obama campaign (before de-camping for two Las Vegases), familiarity only sowed confusion.  I couldn't quite find my way to Nancy's apartment--which, it turns out, was right in downtown.  I marshalled assistance from 1) not so helpful Google Map lady, 2)a medium helpful woman in the Trader Joe's parking lot and 3)very helpful phone directions from Nancy who was well aware of perils all potential confusions.  Once I found her, we headed for our lunch (oh I was starving) at a nearby restaurant.  It was a few minutes past 4.  Lunch, we were told, by the hostess was no longer being served, but in the land of Santa Fe relaxed, the cook instantly offered to make us a proper meal.  I had my chile rellenos with red and green chile and a sopapilla to fortify me for the rest of my drive.

Before I left, we stopped at the Gallery on Santa Fe's art laden Canyon Drive that Nancy manages--and then thanks to a surprising burst of memory, I was able to find the home of one of Sam's college room-mates parents were we'd stayed three years ago.  Pretty impressive as I didn't even know the name of their street.  A short  delightful visit with them before I left Santa Fe, heading over the mountains towards Springer, New Mexico--about two hours further east. 
                                                                         

My goal was to arrive before dark--and I just made it.  The Brown Hotel was as advertised--an old cowboy hotel--bathrooms down the hall, sinks in the room, in an area that had once been cow country, but few cows to be seen.   Residents, no longer cowboys, commute to work at the prison and nursing homes in Raton, about 40 miles north.  Are prisons and variations of nursing homes the main employers in deeply rural America?

The shared shower didn't get much traffic.  Perhaps two other rooms were rented.  The bulk of traffic is during hunting season.  The buffalo might not roam, but the antelopes do.  I actually saw living antelopes for the first time along these roads.


In the morning, had a huge breakfast of Huevos Rancheros, and stretching out the breakfast with an extra coffee and donut for the road I headed towards Wichita.

This was a slightly different route than the one I'd taken the year before, and perhaps because of my fine breakfast, or maybe the weather, it did not seem nearly as desolate this time.  Not much acctivity on the two late highways--a few cars in the opposite direction, but I don't believe I either passed or was passed by another car or truck for the entire journey.

I arrived in Wichita--easily found my way to Laura and Tom's house (this time familiarity did not betray--it was my 3rd stop there--and with the aid of the voice of Google, I sailed right to their door, even earlier than they'd expected.

In previous visits, where I'd lingered to avoid the threat of tornadoes as well as for the fine visiting, I'd sampled Wichita Bar-B-Que, hamburgers and middle eastern food, as well as Tom's excellent cooking.   This time, he'd prepared one of his mother's recipes--Chicken with Dumplings.  Dumplings, in this rendition, turn out to be thick noodles (not so unusual, but I'd never heard of it, green beans with bacon and orange flan for dessert.  A perfect Kansas meal--well perhaps the flan is not so mid-western, but it did the trick.  I got to once again admire their massive kitchen re-model--inspiration for tasks awaiting me in New Jersey before joining Laura for an after-dinner walk along the river.  Their house is very close to the junction of the Big and Little Arkansas InKansas--as I'd learned on my first visit--they do not say Ar-Kan-Saw--but Ar-Kan-Sas.  The air had cooled, the park was lovely and I indeed felt like a Wichita regular.

I left first thing the next morning when Tom drove Laura to the airport--she  was taking an early flight to Detroit to help her sister.  I'd hoped to cross many states and get as far as Terre Haute, Indiana. 

Luther Hill Corn

The other night, Laura reminded me of Luther Hill Corn.

One of the great treats of our childhood summers were ears of a very small sweet white corn.   Last year, the corn I'd bought at stands was good--it certainly seemed better (might be a trick of New Jersey) than California varieties, but nothing quite measured up.

I did some research and discovered that it was in fact bred in 1902 in Andover, the next town over.

Further searches led me to this article from the New Jersey Herald, packed with all the information I needed including a lead to a local farmer who has been growing the corn for the past 25 years.  A few days later, I stopped at the Valley View Farm Stand.  They do indeed sell Luther Hill corn in September.  It was a Sunday, lots of customers, so I did not add my name to the list of people to be called when the corn comes in, but I will do that--and come September will get some genuine Luther Hill.  Praise be.

It's too late this year, but if you're interested you can order the seeds from CherryGal Heirloom Seeds and see a lovely picture as well. Come September, I'll have my own photos, but this will have to do for now.

Catching up to myself: driving across--first stop, Winslow, Arizona

A quiet day in the country.   The house is clean, the refrigerator stocked, plans are made to go to the city on Thursday for lunch with the Jersey City gang. It's hot despite last nights rain.  I've been relatively lucky with the weather--not too hot and muggy--it looks like the worst days are going to be on Thursday and Friday--I should just plan to be as air-conditioned as possible, I guess.

In any case, I haven't done one bit of work on the house today.   A bit obsessive about filling in the historic record, I'm going to seize this moment to write up a quick report of my last trip east.  I had of course planned to do something of the sort for my six other cross country drives of the past three years--and perhaps I will one of these days--but throwing my desire to put things in their proper order (a desire that always feel a bit suspect in this going-backwards-blog-format)--here's a report on my drive from June 19-24th.

Just five days.  I didn't meander.   On previous trips I'd either visited friends for a while, or drove short distances and did some exploring, hiking, and sight-seeing.  I don't drive in the dark--but do seem to be able to go for hours without a stop--a talent that seems to have come with age.  Or maybe it's the result of yoga practice almost every day for the past several months.  All that stretching and concentration may have paid off. 

My first destination was the Delta Motel on Route 66 in Winslow, Arizona.  I'd found it on Trip Advisor (as reported weeks later here on July 14).   It was an easy 8 hour drive--arrived around 7pm and was warmly welcomed by the owners--Chuck and Joy.  They've owned the place for about five years and clearly love getting it in surprisingly good shape (most of these old motels, if they are up and running are pretty dreary spots).  They've created "theme rooms,"--Betty Boop, The Beatles, Elvis, Cars, etc.  The walls are covered with posters and related jig-saw puzzles and they work to choose bed spreads, pillows, etc. to continue the theme.  They gave me the Marilyn Monroe room--what could be better?

Although my original reason for choosing Winslow as my first stop was a meal at the Posada Inn--either dinner or breakfast--I was a)too tired to take myself out for an elegant meal and b)not all that hungry--with enough food in the cooler--the thai crab fried rice, etc. to tide me over--so I took a bath in the very pink room, availed myself of the flat screen tv and soon fell asleep.

The next morning, I decided to forego breakfast at the Posada Inn as well--I'd had several fine breakfasts there on previous trips.  Here's that site in case you missed its first mention on July 14:   Turquoise Room

My friend Nancy, whom I'd met when I worked on the Obama campaign in Las Vegas, New Mexico, was now living in Santa Fe--and I"d made plans to have a late New Mexican lunch with her before heading further east--to get me within striking distance of Wichita--so I couldn't linger that long in Winslow.

The Corner

Louisville Women in Winslow

Rather than stopping for breakfast I found The Standin' on the Corner Park.  I'd somehow missed it on previous visits--though it is right in the center of town--but this time I drove right to it.   Four visiting women from  Louisville showed up, delighted to be there.  According to a New York article that happened to have been lying unread in the back-seat of my car, this tiny park with its statue of an unidentified musician standin on the corner in Winslow Arizona has become a tourist draw.
Poking about I found an  older NYTimes article from the Travel Section with lots of details:  Escape to Winslow
And--if you still want more--and need proof that the NYT repeats stories as often as possible here's the article that was in my car: more on winslow

After much photo taking and filling up with gas, I left Winslow for my next meal in Santa Fe.

Showing off....house, lake and neighborhood

Brian, Heather, Grace and Gabriel arrived exactly as predicted by their GPS around 5:30 on Saturday.  I gave the grand tour once again--we did a bit of nibbling on frittata and fruit--and after the kids had given the rocking chairs a good work out, we sprayed ourselves with all sorts of repellents and headed out to walk around the lake.  

Grace meeting mantis

Despite some participants semi-official aversion to nature (well, only one New York Jewish intellectual's uneasiness), the walk was glorious.  We clipped brush to clear the way, admired the shifting light on lake and meadows and Heather even spotted a praying mantis.  I don't think they're rare--but they  so well camouflaged, I rarely see them and have memories of grand excitement whenever we found them as kids--they are remarkable looking creatures.

For more mantis facts and photos you can start here:  http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/bugs/praying-mantis/

Morton-Harphams at Lake

A tiny bunny and some of it relatives were spotted on the walk, and all-in-all, a fine time was had by all, followed by some serious foot washing to ward off poison ivy.  Heather and I  whipped up a grand feast of a dinner:  the basic hot dogs and hamburgers with many fixings but also the rest of the frittata,  roasted and boiled corn from the farmer's market, grilled asparagus, baked beans, sauteed beet greens with garlic and cherry tomatoes and many salads -- kale, cucumber and green beans.  We were going to grill watermelon for dessert, but that fell by the wayside--so ended the meal with nibbles of watermelon and blueberry pie.

We did a huge and thorough clean-up, before they headed out to the Holiday Inn Express across from Home Depot for another kind of rural experience.

I met them there the next morning as they were having their copious if not amazingly delicious Holiday Inn Breakfast.  Brian had picked up a map of Sussex County, and Heather discovered--marvel of marvels--that our lake was depicted and named as Glauberman!  We'd never seen this.  It is nameless on the Hagstrom map.  Google--as a result of some research done by an enterprising intern I'd imagine, has labelled it Reynolds  in deference to the man who actually got state permits to dig it out (my father bought the property from him).  

Unfortunately, a tick had found Brian at that very lake.  Our outing for the day would be a bit tamer--at Kittatinny State Park.  I'd never been there, but it is nearby with wide walking trails, so I thought it would fit the bill.

Now that I've found it, I might make it my regular walking spot--it's just on the other side of Newton--and unlike the walks that are closer to home, it is not as summer buggy--which is a real pleasure.

Back to the house to continue eating the many dishes from the previous night-with the addition of a corn salad made from the left-overs--just corn, red onion, red pepper and parsley,  provide serious rocking chair time for Grace and Gabriel and then bid farewell.  I hope a fine  before this party ended as guests left to dine with Brian's mother in Teaneck.

Saturday morning chores.

Basic cleaning and sweeping.  Chopped and marinated kale for salad.  I wasn't sure if Brian and Heather were coming, but decided to go to the Farmer's Market at the Fair Grounds for community research.  As I was about to turn left on 94, Heather called.  They were planning to come--which meant visit to market was elevated from research to   proper shopping at the Farmer's Market and beyond.  Hurray!  I am always happy to shop for a crowd.

Bought peaches and blueberries from Windy Brow, Twelve ears of bi-color corn form Ideal farms, as well as more green beans (I'd bought some from another farmer yesterday) and cucumbers.

On the way home, I stopped at Sasse Glaziers, hoping that they's made my screen--and wonder of wonders, it had just been finished.  It took just a little maneuvering to get it into the car (I'd learned the correct angles from my previous efforts--and we had four hands this time rather than two).  Then gas for car and lawn mower and a quick trip for milk and ice-cream and more at Weiss's.

Hall through screen

At home--I easily installed the new screen.  The door will have to be painted--but air and light now fill the hall.  Major improvement.

I wasn't sure if the entire family would be happy staying here (next year--let us hope, the house will be ready for scores of guests, so Heather made reservations at the Holiday Inn in the Home Depot Parking lot--well--not in the parking lot--but very close indeed.  And--there is not even a swimming pool.

Although I would have liked to be able to put everyone up, it was probably a good thing not to have to get everything perfectly visitor ready.

Frittata

Back to preparing food for snacks and dinner.   Parboiled green beans, sliced cucumbers and made a fritatta with onions, cheese, tomatoes, basil and parsley in case anyone needs a quick snack on arrival.

Screen up, snack made, ready for company.

Errands. Unexpected visitors. Three house tours.

Another gorgeous country day.

As I was cleaning and assembling garbage, a car pulled up.  It was Bob Olsen of Fish and Wildlife and his friend Steve (just retired from Fish and Wildlife).  We'd spoken on the phone last year.  He's in charge of the property we sold to Green Acres and had been here before any work had been done, so I got to do the proud-home-owner's tour.
Drove one bag of nicely frozen garbage to the end of the road.  Another mail-less stop at Post Office.  More rewarding visit to the organic farm en route to the library.  Last year I must have started going there quite late in the season and perhaps too late in the day.  I would often only buy garlic.  Today I bought gorgeous green beans and Tuscan kale.  I have too many vegetables already so had to passed on leeks, collards and other assorted greens.

My goal at the library was to amass piles of home improvement books to get ideas for kitchen design, landscaping, etc.  Sat deep in the stack with piles of books-- barely knew what I was looking for but managed to bring home a big stack of brightly colored volumes nonetheless.

As I was leaving the library, the phone rang.  Home Depot was calling to report that my Anderson screen for the upstairs bedroom had arrived.  Perfect timing. Congratulating myself on having remembered to bring the necessary receipt in preparation for this exact eventuality, I drove straight to the store, picked up the screen, returned home.  Instead of popping in the screen, I continued my endless sweeping.  Interrupted by knocking on the door.  Two young men--neither looking like a guy from Sussex County were on the porch.  Turns out one of them had wandered over the hill from Hyper Humus some months ago and met Logan at the lake.  He told them that the only real way to access it by car was with my permission.  They had driven out from Bushwick (certainly not Sussex County) and were hoping to do do a little fishing.

I said yes, but gave them a house tour before they headed towards the lake.

I returned to my household chores.  In the late afternoon, I thought I'd do a little branch clipping along the lake paths--but I hadn't remembered to put on mosquito repellent and soon gave that up.

Margaret then called--she'd finished her photography class and was ready for a walk.  When she arrived--rather than walk around the lake, we drove a tiny distance to the old railroad trail--not quite as buggy--but this is obviously the season of the mosquito.

Back at the house, we had a bit of left-over cucumber soup and one more tour.  Margaret had been here in November just before we left.  Her response to the condition of the hosue was very similar to mine.  She thought it was much more livable and in order than she remembered.  It was cold and wintry November--now it's sunlit and breezy--everything looks  better, despite the peeling ceilings.  I get great pleasure imagining a kitchen taking shape in the sun filled parlor. 

Full moon rose over the lake.  Fireflies very busy.  Fine summer night.

Remembering my very slow departure from Breeze Avenue......

Now that I'm here--and have even managed to get away for a night, I'm marveling at how difficult it was for me to actually leave California. 

I was originally hoping to arrive in New Jersey at the very beginning of June--or perhaps even earlier--I could put in a garden, supervise plumbing, make bathroom and kitchen plans, etc.

Perhaps it was just procrastination, but the  floods, fires, tornadoes and record breaking heat along my various routes (and on the east coast) did not encouraged a swift exit.

Finally, after many delays and plan modifications I decided I'd leave on my birthday.    I was making preparations towards that end--many mini-celebrations, desultory packing efforts, etc., but as the day neared---well--I just wasn't ready, plus Friday is not a good day to leave Los Angeles.  All hours screamed traffic, so I decided I would leave the next day--Saturday.

I planned to devote my birthday to serious packing--but (and this is certainly not something to lament), there were so many calls and surprise visits starting with  a delicious breakfast egg sandwich with kale at the new Gjelina take-away with Lisa that my packing efforts, never very brilliant, fell seriously behind.

When Natasha and Joe dropped by for a sunset walk--they took note of my half-filled suitcases, cluttered surfaces and gaping cabinets and easily convinced  me  there was no real  reason to rush off.      Instead of a final swoop of packing,  I joined them for  a sunset walk--followed by an an excellent meal foraged from the remnants in my fridge--a frittata with  the Trader Joe's brown rice medley with black barley and daikon radish seeds to which I added sauteed green garlics and roasted tomatoes.   I'd planned to nibble on it as  I sped eastwards--but was happy to share instead.  Also a very small salad--avocado, oranges, celery, carrots.  Some melon and prosciuto and perhaps a fruit salad too?  Not quite sure, but everything was delicious, impromptu and festive--a bit of a surprise birthday dinner.

Awoke on Saturday--seized once again by the demons of delay---continued my desultory packing efforts.  I knew that if I focused I could easily do it all in an hour or two--but alas focus didn't seem an option.  At some point, I did decide I should have just left--I worried I'd keep delaying until my tenants showed up. 

Luckily Carol came by around 3pm.  The house was still a mess,  though the dishes in the dish washer were now clean, and I'd packed up a few more items.   I decided that I needed a specific destination for Sunday night.  I had an actual destination---Winslow, Arizona, where I was planning to eat my first traveling breakfast at the Turquoise Room at the Posada Inn --an old Railroad hotel, the next morning before heading towards New Mexico.  I've actually eaten there two or three times.  I do this route ridiculously often.  Once a Harvey Restaurant, it  now  serves high end southwestern food--very delicious-- a welcome treat and relief on relatively desolate route 40.  Here's the restaurant site-- from there you can easily get to the hotel(on line and in reality): Turquoise Room

La Posada would have been a fine place to stay, but provides much more than I  need for my basic pit stop--so with Carol's astoundingly patient co-operation, I embarked on an obsessive and quite unpleasant search for a cheap motel  in either Winslow or Flagstaff.   Priceline, Expedia, Orbitz, I was checking them all--growing increasingly depressed by the combination of high prices and dreary chain motel accommodations.  Quite by accident, I stumbled upon many words of praise for The Delta Motel
in Winslow and instantly called and made a reservation.  The owner, Chuck, was so lovely on the phone that I knew I'd manage to leave Sunday morning--no matter what my house looked like on Saturday. 
I was expecting to stop for meal in Santa Fe (my friend Nancy, from Las Vegas New Mexico had moved there two weeks ago) but wanted to sleep a bit further east. 
More internet work led met to the  Brown Hotel in Springer, New Mexico--two hours from Santa Fe--where I was told by the desk man I'd have no trouble getting a room with a complete breakfast on Monday night.  There wasn't much data--but it  was in the right place--so fit my own peculiar set of demands.   And miracle of miracles--once those plans were made--all travel anxiety evaporated.  I became ravenously hungry and was about to see if I could eke one more meal out of my cupboard and fridge--but Carol insisted we go out.   Patty called at that exact moment---and we all three ended up going to one of the Thai restaurants on Lincoln--which was fast, delicious, and perfect, and I even got the leftover rice with fresh crab to take on the road (an upgrade perhaps from the fritatta).

Of course when I got home I did not accomplish great things in the packing department--and went to sleep in that by now familiar scene of pre-trip chaos.

Actual departure:

Woke up  at about 6:30 for final prep.   This time I had it down (it is a mystery why I couldn't manage it before, but such is life).   My immediate incentive at that moment was that Linda had wanted me to stop by as I left (she lives around the corner from the Freeway entrance) and I'd told her I would arrive before eleven am.   I zipped through the rooms, packed up every last item, cleared all surfaces, even oiled the kitchen butcher block and by 10 was ready to leave. 
Andrew, downstairs, offered to bring out my many bags while I pulled the car around from the garage—so my exit was even quicker than planned.  He did have a small accident—dropping the cooler—breaking a bottle of beer , and spilling the milk which destroyed a few other food items ---but I graciously excused him (though as you might note, I am mentioning it—but only because I had to slightly adjust my road food plans).  Nonetheless I thanked him profusely and sincerely and headed out.

Thermos resting on Camry in NJ

I got to Linda’s at the appointed hour.  She met me on the street with a cup of coffee in an excellent red thermos cup and a bag full of what looked to be excellent snacks from Whole Foods.   She admired my well-packed car (she'd  brought me to the automatic car wash at the shell station on Lincoln the week before--i didn't even know there was such a place---we sat in the car while the machine soaped and rinsed it--and then we dried it to a grand shine with many paper towels and vacuumed the inside--excellent work all around--and it still looked good).    We bid our farewells--and off I went.....

Trader Joe's, Mutter Museum, Roebling Bridge, Riegelsville

Meandering Return.  After breakfast on the deck,dropped Jude near the museum and following carefully given directions found my way to Trader Joe's.  Oh--the joys of standardization--I loved wandering those familiar aisles.   On my many drives across country, I lament the lack of individuality--the endless chains of motels and fast foods--and here I am in Philadelphia all too happy to extol TJ's ability to replicate itself throughout the land.   This cannot be a good sign. 

After packing my car with many items I'd been missing, I walked to Di Bruno Brothers, an Italian market (well--really an upscale Italian food emporium with several outposts in Philadelphia).   Jude had suggested I walk there from TJ's, but the bagger there insisted the store on 9th Street was the place to go.  I considered that possibility, but decided I'd best not embark on urban car explorations and walked to the store on 17th and Chestnut. 

Much to my excitement, I passed the Mutter Museum of the College of Physicians.  I remembered that it's famous for bizarre and strange exhibits and was half tempted.  But my car was packed with groceries--nothing frozen, but I did optimistically include a  few items which would not profit from hours in a hot trunk, and I am always inappropriately anxious about leaving a car beyond its allotted time (the signs said one hour--but the lot was empty--and it was obvious the towing activity was below zero).  Plus I think I probably enjoy the idea of the grisly exhibits more than I would the exhibits themselves.  I just took a quick swirl through the Benjamin Rush herb garden, but if you want to check out the Mutter Museum, here it is:  Mutter Museum and then made my left on Chestnut Street to Di Bruno brothers.

Oh--it was a store full of scrumptious and gorgeously displayed items--cheeses, produce, meats-I could almost be happy enough just wandering the aisles.  I realized I hadn't bought any good car snacks at the Trade, and  although I wasn't particularly hungry, I do know how hunger functions--and thought it would be quite appropriate to buy some lunch provisions.

Always on the alert for little tastings as well as for sales, both things came together at the deli counter--where there were samples of a fairly good cheese an delicious salami--and there was indeed a sale--a half a pound of baked ham and a half pound of any deli cheese for $9.99.  If I chose the  gruyere at 19.99 a pound, this could clearly be a bargain.  Of course, the truth is I scarcely needed so much--but this is the famous Cosco trick--or quandary--and given my desire to make a purchase--I couldn't resist. Planning to make a sandwich,  I bought a challah roll, hurried back to my car (happy to find it secure in its TJ spot despite overstaying its welcome) and headed out.

I often get muddled leaving cities and this was no exception.  Perhaps I went west instead of east.  I straightened myself out relatively easily and  ended up on Route 611 which goes through Bucks County along the Delaware and was quite lovely.  All new territory.   I did a bit of map study and decided I could probably find a way to cross the river before Easton.  And indeed randomly making a right turn, I found a small green suspension bridge in Rieglesville (the towns in both New Jersey and Pennsylvania share the name).   I took a not very good picture, but many excellent views here: 

Riegelsville Bridge

I learned today from my friend Margaret that the bridge was  designed and built by John A. Roebling, who later designed the Brooklyn Bridge.  I might have once known but have surely forgotten that before that bridge was  built, he died of tetanus after a freak accident in which a ferry crushed his toes as he stood on a pier refining his bridge plans.  
   There is a trail along the Delaware canal that was quite lovely and runs for many miles.  Wanting to linger a bit but unable to deal with the logistics of sandwich making, I bought a New York Times and a cup  of very spicy and good gazpacho at the Figtree Cafe on the Pennsylvania side which provided enough sustenance as I wended my way north east --stopping to buy excellent corn and what looks to be a fine New Jersey tomato (not yet sampled). Arrived  home moments after a tiny rainstorm had cleared and sparkled the air, and made and ate my sandwich with great pleasure.

Philadelphia visit

No house work today.  I drove to Philadelphia to visit Jude and Alexander.    Their weekends were booked up way into August--and it's not clear what the work schedule will be here, so when Jude suggested that I could just come on a weekday--lunch together--then visit the museum (she works at the Philadelphia Museum of Art) until she finished work, it sounded like a perfect plan.  And indeed it was.

The first time I'd spent a night away from this house this season -reminded me what a happy traveler and sight-seer I can be.

The drive took longer than expected--an accident on 278 slowed things to a crawl--and much of the route is not on highways--not traffic jams, but slow moving through Princeton and other picturesque towns.  Nonetheless, I'd allowed plenty of time and turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue--at almost exactly 12:30--the time we'd set for lunch.  As I was about to call Jude, she beat me to it.   I told her I'd be in front of the Perelman meeting in two minutes.  Indeed I was, and she arrived seconds later.  Perfect timing all around.

We lunched in the Museum Cafeteria--she went back to work--and I spent hours wandering through the Museum.  I've always thought of the Philadelphia Museum as one of the grand ones--and grand it is--with a terrific collection--but in comparison with the New York museums it was practically empty--with room after room of fabulous stuff.

After many happy museum hours, met Jude when she finished work and drove to her new house in Germantown.

We whipped up a meal, most of the ingredients coming from their CSA delivery--kale salad, tomato and basil salad, boiled potatoes with butter and parsley, and some left-over curry and dined on the deck--

After dinner, Alexander had work to do and Jude and I took a quick tour around the neighborhood.  Huge variations block by block, but the stone houses on the avenues --- now--or perhaps always--duplexes--were enormous and imposing.

One local landmark is the Wyck House, dating from the earliest 18th century, now the site of a community garden, Farmer's Market and much more.  It was closed up tight when we walked by--but it will be worth a visit another day.    The website is full of both permanent and temporary information:  Wyck House

Then back to the house to pack up the re-cycling.  The pleasures of city living--curb side pick-up--no trips to the dump necessary.

Then to bed.

Is there such a thing as a quick and simple task?

It is now almost 3 in the afternoon.  Very early rising this morning as Sam was leaving at dawn to drive into the city.

Inspired by our weekend of endless chores, I thought I'd take care of one small item:  ordering a screened in panel to put in the front door.

The glassed panel looked like it could be easily removed--four little latches appeared to hold it in.  My plan was to spin the latches, slip out the panel--and bring it to the glazier down the road.  George and the screen man at Home Depot had both told me that I could order a screen custom made at Sasse--which turns out to be a glazier just around the corner on Rte. 206.

I thought this would be a quick and easy assignment.

On Saturday when Sam and Sarah had gone in search of a screen for the upstairs room, they regretted that they hadn't just brought a similar screen with them.  To avoid such regrets, I decided that rather than worrying about exact measurements and complicated explanations (all our problems are so ancient, and perhaps I am such a bad explainer, it is often difficult to describe our exact needs), I would just pop the panel into the car--and all measurements could be done at Sasses.

Panel removed!

Ha!  The first task was that easy popping out of the panel.  What was I thinking.  The little clasps could barely move.  Decades of paint had sealed the insert to the frame.  Although I had thought the panel would slip out on the interior side--it barely moved in either direction.  I wasn't sure if I was pushing hard enough--and was of course worried that if I pushed too hard, I could end up breaking glass, frame, who knows what else.  Instead, I began chipping away with a razor edge--it was sealed tight--and to get to all edges, I ended up having to remove various guards and hinges--needed all kinds and sizes of screw-drivers as there was no attempt to have uniformity and any of the screws holding various things in place.  There was some movement in the top--but I began to fear that there was some other sealant of which I wasn't aware. I was climbing on and off a chair, and feeling pretty dopey.  It was hot and muggy--and the easy no-brainer task looked to be stretching into the afternoon.  But--glory be--after strategic pushing and pulling and endless rounds of slicing through ancient paint, the panel popped out.  Hooray!

At that very moment Lisa called from their island campsite in Parry Sound, Ontario.  I hadn't spoken with her since I'd left Venice--but rather than give a full report, I was delighted to have an audience to report my triumphant removal of the door panel  Oh--I was one satisfied and smug home-repairer.

But my task was not yet completed.  I just had to pop the panel into the car--drive the few minutes to Sasse--make my order--and I'd be done.

I just don't have a very well developed spatial sense (Let's say that's what the problem was).  The panel was too big by far for the trunk--but it did look like it could slide easily into the back seat.  At least, it looked like that to me.  And it was pretty close.  I longed for another pair of hands, or longer arms, another set of eyes.  I figured I could make my order without dragging in the door--but it really looked like it might fit.  Of course, I didn't remember how to put down seats, expand space, etc., but I referred to the Owner's Manual, carefully stashed in the glove compartment.

Door in car

I removed head rests, put front seats forward, lowered back seats, opened back windows as much as possible (they don't open all the way).  No permutations worked--there was always an obstacle--the doors, the container between the front seats, the rear window, the roof, the floor, the front seats.  What a pity the door didn't bend--I was convinced it would fit if I could just get the right angle--and indeed--after almost an hour (or maybe more--it felt like days but probably wasn't)--I did manage to wedge the door into the back seat and successfully close both doors. 

On arriving at Sasse, I'd thought perhaps we should just measure it in the car--but realized it would be easy to put it back as long as I had help--so we brought it into the shop.  I thought that having th piece would mean I wouldn't have to worry about precise measurements and they could just replicate it with screens, i.e. build a wooden frame and put a screen in--and I'd then fit it into the door.    What was I thinking?  No matter.

Waiting for a screen

They basically make metal bordered screens--like window screens--they didn't need the measurements from my carefully hauled panel, but rather the exact measurements of the hole in the door.  Was all my labor for naught?  The panel did have to be removed--and I suppose it made sense to bring it in--but who knows?  In any case, pretending I'd performed an important task, I left the panel in the shop, returned home, measured the door--30 3/16 X 56 1/4 inches and swept up the mess of paint chippings on the porch. It--whatever it might be--will probably be ready by Thursday or Friday--providing a whole new range of problems to solve.

July 10--Dirt Moving, Weed Whacking, Mowing and more

Sam was ready for more serious work on Sunday.  I made coffee and he headed out to continue hauling dirt up the hill.  This means he shovels the dirt that ran down the hill this winter, loads the wheelbarrow and dumps it into the gully in back of the third wall.  Then comes the topsoil and grass seed.  It is slow and hard and would be so much easier with some proper heavy equipment, he stops when the gully is about filled.

That's not the end of the dirt moving.  I'm going to get some tons of gravel to fill in the many holes on the half mile driveway--but we've decided we should fill in the deepest rut on the road before we get the dirt.  Again, many wheelbarrow trips up the road.  I had some proof-reading chores--so was happily reading downstairs--can't say I missed all that digging and hauling. 

A short break for lunch and  a trip to Home Depot to order the screen for the upstairs bedroom.  Yesterday, they hadn't known if the window was before or after 1980--but the salesman had explained how to learn this--one had 3 and 1/2 inches somewhere, the other 7 1/2--it was newer--which was good news as that would just take a week on special order (the older would take six--summer and the need for screens would almost be past).  We placed our order and also bought some scissors and an orange plastic tool box.  Oh--we are indeed home improvers!

A quick stop at Dairy Queen for a hot fudge milkshake (we did a lot of thinking about a chocoholic blizzard--but really wanted something a bit more liquid)--I had a few sips and then home.

More mowing,weed-whacking, road-fixing  and trimming,
interrupted by a trip to Lowe's to buy oil for the mower.  By the end of the day--the property looked almost suburban shorn (sort of).

Planning, Visiting , Shopping, Moving Dirt and Cooking

Sarah, Sam and I met with George this morning.  Trying to figure out how much we'll be able to get done this year with much more limited funds.  We have to do the outside--siding and grading--and would love to get plumbing done inside--for all bathrooms and kitchen even if we won't be able to get it all done.  We shall see.

When George left, we had a late breakfast of scrambled eggs with onions, garlic, cheese and red peppers.   Jackie and Andre arrived in the early afternoon bearing a grand hanging plant of pink, blue and yellow flowers and three pies from the vegetable stand on Route !5.

They had a quick meal of left-over pasta and cucumber soup while Sarah and Sam began making lists and planning shopping expeditions.
They headed out in search of many products while Jackie and Andre and I drove to the first trail head to walk into Hyper Humus.

The walk was lovely and the shopping successful--purchases for earth moving, floor fixing and wallpaper removal--bags and bags of top soil, knee pads, shovels, drop clothes, scrapers, face masks and more.  Sarah and Sam began hauling mountains of dirt from the bottom of the hill to the top.  This is part of the great re-grading effort.  It  wasn't completed last year. Water rushed down the hill, bits of the walls collapsed, piles of dirt at the bottom.   George explained how the slope should be built up--"just think like a rain-drop," he suggested.  Once the grading is complete, we have to add topsoil and plant grass.  Note newly purchased bags of topsoil at top of hill.

As they worked, Jackie and I began dinner preparations.  We roasted asparagus, eggplant, zucchini, onions and red peppers.  Just a little lemon on the asparagus--but we made a gremolata of lemon, parsley and garlic for everything else.  Once the vegetables were cooked, we grilled the chicken legs and thighs that I'd been marinating in orange juice soy sauce, garlic and ginger--and for a non-grill addition--mashed potatoes as well.  Very pleasant and leisurely  on the weeded patio.  Forgot to take a picture of the food before eating--but remembered mid-meal-not the whole spread--but you get the idea.   And then there was dessert--pies that Jackie and Andre had bought on Route 15--rhubarb and strawberry, berry, and some peach combo--all much better than in previous years--and ice cream that Sarah and Sam had bought after all their home-improvement shopping.  A grand meal--Sarah drove back to the city with Jackie and Andre--and Sam stayed for one more day of hard labor.

Shopping for house and larder

I'm gearing up for a major bout of work--both theoretical and hands-on. Inspired by the visit of Dustin yesterday, I have been digging back into last year's records--and was shocked (well, perhaps not shocked, maybe disappointed is more accurate) to see that although I had some ragged notes from last June and July when I was working around the clock with a constantly shifting cast of characters, I'd never gotten them into any coherent order, nor had I posted most of the pictures recording that extraordinary effort.  The picture part is what is holding me up because my memory has a very difficult time remembering the many systems I've used for transferring, retrieving and displaying photos--oh the things we expect to do effortlessly these days....

I spent the morning working to clarify the historical record.

This afternoon, in anticipation of arrival of Sarah and Sam this evening, and Jackie and Andre tomorrow, I did a round of shopping.  First stop--Lowe's where I purchased curly light bulbs and a runner for the front porch.

Then to Weiss's for cucumbers (I'm made chicken soup last night--and an excellent use for the broth would be cold cucumber soup) and other food items--and then because of Sam's lament that there was no soda in the house (when was there ever soda in my house?) stopped at Wal-mart where they often give cases of soda away for free (this is something I learned last year).  As I wandered the wide aisles, I became woozy and light-headed--was this the Wal-mart effect?  hunger? dehyrdration?  I was not terribly alarmed--it didn't feel like a dreadful symptom--still it was not clear if I'd be able to proceed on my appointed rounds.

Deciding I needed a blast of sugar, I picked up an eight-pack of Reese's peanut butter cups (excellent buy for one dollar)  and quickly ate two.  Better--but not completely...should I eat three?   Would that be excessive?  To avoid such indulgence, I plucked a box of Kashi Golean off the shelf--it sounds like an outer space science fiction word--but it is really a lo-fat description, as in go lean-- not very delicious--but as I read on the back cover later--each fistful contained enough protein for a major league athlete--so it did the trick.  I did have to explain to the cashier why I was not concerned that I was buying an opened half empty box of cereal (plenty of shoppers, I imagine, munch on Reese's peanut butter cup--fewer on cereal).

Runner in sun and shade

All dangers of passing out averted, I drove to Ideal farms for some farm produce, then the Post Office, where my New Yorker was the first occupant in my new PO Box--then home to put down the new runner and devote myself to cleaning and cooking.  I made the cucumber soup using the recipe from my own collection of my own old recipes that Sarah had posted in what I call my cookbook blog--not exactly a blog as it just sits there--no new entries--but I made so many changes to the recipe--using chicken soup, tripling quantities, etc., I might have to go back for a major rewrite.  But--for the original version from long ago--just go to: Cold Cucumber Soup.  Knowing a soup course alone wouldn't fill the bill, I also made farfalle with a tomato sauce with spicy Italian turkey sausage and cannelini beans.

The long awaited thunder storm hit with a vengeance--not much thunder and lightning--but lots of rain.  Sam and Sarah had made a first stop at Build it Green NYC--a warehouse in Astoria that sells salvaged items of all sorts--looking for appliances, toilets, cabinets, etc. for house.  They called from the GW bridge--but due to rain and traffic did not arrive until well after 7.  Luckily dinner was ready to go.  It was enthusiastically devoured--the kithen cleaned, then early to bed as we're meeting with George to discuss construction plans first thing in the morning.

Thinking about major work...

Another quiet day.  It looks like Sarah and Sam will be coming again on Friday--and Saturday we'll meet with George Roof to figure out a plan of action.

Logan, who did so much work last year,  was supposed to stop by this afternoon with his daughter Gabrielle.  At around 4:30 or 5:00, I someone out front.  It was not Logan, but Dustin Pittenger, one of the young men I'd recruited in my massive cleaning efforts last year (you can read about his activities in postings for June whatever dates).

He was with two friends--they've all just graduated high school--and would be happy to do a little work.  I showed him some of the tasks waiting to be done--and he seemed interested enough.  Last year he had worked with his brother, Corey--who has various injured body parts and won't be working just yet.

And speaking of injured, after Dustin headed down to the lake with his friends, I called Logan and learned that he'd broken four ribs falling off a --what is it called--four wheeler?--that he was racing around on this afternoon.   Oh the accidents of this world.  "It's all good, it is what it is,"  said Logan. 

Quiet New Jersey Days....

Planning, painting and cooking have all ceased for the moment.  Sarah and Sam will be coming back on Friday--we'll meet with George on Saturday morning--and I'm assuming a new round of vigorous activity will begin.

Yesterday was extraordinarily beautiful--hot, but not humid.  Can't say I did much in the house--all sorts of bits of Venice business had to be taken care of, plus of course I had to make sure the paint was drying properly on the porch.  It is looking good.--and start looking for toilets, tubs and other accessories on line.

I did make a run to the Post Office to check on my new postal box--it remains as empty as can be.  And I surprised myself by being unable to resist yet another trip to Dairy Queen for my second hot fudge and caramel sundae in 24 hours.  It was good, but that particular craving might be sated for a while.

Now that I'm here, I can't quite fathom why I had such a hard time leaving Venice.  Well--there were lots of reasons.  I had planned to leave late May or early June--but the entire middle of the country was engulfed in one disaster after another--tornados, floods, winds, fires...and then there was an incredible heat wave almost everywhere but Venice, California.

Russell and Heather who were originally hoping to move in at the beginning of June, delayed their arrival until July--so, between the threats of the environment lurking throughout the land and the lack of an immediate incentive to get out, I had an extremely hard time packing my bags.  But--finally--on Sunday June 19th, I finished packing the car and headed out!