Honeybees

I spent a lovely afternoon at Lowes this past Friday. My list was short:
wood-
frame
bed
toluene

I got sidetracked in flooring, ceramic tile, sweepers, doors, etc. I also love paint departments and all those free color chips. Sometimes I stand and flip through the giant hanging rugs, but skipped it this time. Anyway, I saw what I wanted to see and saved the plant department for last. I looked at what was left of their trees. Then came the perennials, and what made me stop cold was a huge table full of a variety of Salvia with tall purple flowering spears. There were hundreds of honeybees on them. There were so many there was a low drone of buzzing. I did not see bees on any other plants. But they were sure loving that Salvia.

Just this year I've seen a couple on clover in our yard and was pretty excited, since I'd thought they were about gone in the area. Maybe they weren't the same type of bee from years ago, but they looked the same. I hope the bees are coming back.

D-Clutter

I've been watching HGTV this week, while painting our bedroom. This painting job has been postponed because I couldn't face moving 4 dressers, a king size bed, and emptying corners and closet. I left the TV on as I worked, and watched HGTV, mostly those shows with decorators "staging" houses so they would sell quicker. So I get their message, they think clutter is bad. The bedroom was a living example of clutter, and I have to admit my magpie personality-verging on hoarder, sometimes gets the best of me. Now it feels nice walking into my Sand Yellow bedroom, so clean, calm, almost empty. New carpet in place. I'll not be taking a lot of the stuff back in there (she said bravely), so it will stay nice looking (uncluttered) for awhile.

I'm sitting at my desk looking at all my personal items that have turned into clutter. Each item here is needed almost every day, or is so precious to me, that I won't de-clutter this area to any significant degree. Top shelf are family antiques and gifts from students, and friends. There is a story for each item. A picture of Johnny Depp taped to the wall was from a student. An Obama sticker. The top shelf has some antiques from Mom and a picture of my dad holding Brian. I love that shelf. 2nd shelf, more of the same plus some practical items I use frequently. Stapler, reference books. Well, I could put the "Yoga 101 Workout for Beginners" DVD away. I bought it before Christmas and haven't even watched it yet.

Desk area: My favorite place in the house. A little TV sits to the left of my monitor. There's usually a little bowl of kitty food for Danny to eat when she comes to visit me. My vitamins and calcium plus D are beside the TV so I'll remember to take them sometimes. A bottle of Gold Bond lotion, dental floss, TV remote. Personal mail and Things That Need Taken Care Of sit there too.

To my right is a swivel magnifying lamp. I've found if I keep it on, for some reason the glare of the monitor doesn't tire my eyes so quickly. Beside the light I stuck a little clip on fan which goes on if I have a hot flash. There's a jewelers loupe 'cause my eyes are weak, tweezers, nail clippers, a comb for my cats and dog.

But back to the bedroom. I papered the ceiling, the hall and down the stairway. It is an embossed design made to look like a tin ceiling. I think it's kind of tacky but it covered a world of woes up there. The paint is on, a coat of primer and two coats of "one coat" paint. http://www.myperfectcolor.com/Match-of-Walmart-93212-Yellow-Sand-p/mpc0085145.htm

Soon a new bed will be delivered, which I'm kind of nervous about. After reading all the reviews on the internet I'm not sure there is a decent durable mattress made anymore. I have laid on mattresses all over town, with strange men watching and inviting me to lay on my side and stomach, wiggle around and take my time. I didn't like that experience at all. At Andres Furniture I laid on a bed that cost $5999.99! If you are ever there I highly recommend trying it out. So, the bedroom is about finished. Maybe I'll post a picture after the bed arrives, and before the clutter sneaks back in. Guaranteed, this house will never be ready for HGTV, and that was never my goal. I just really love fresh paint.

Sherry's Garden

This was the 3th time I'd attempted to visit a new friend's garden. We became acquaintances a couple years ago and from time to time Sherry would invite me to see what she'd done at her house. I like her a lot. She is very humble, but every once in awhile she says something that makes me think this is a person worth knowing. Like mentioning off-hand "I have a lot of friends who are artists". Or, "I just finished enclosing my porch room, and I love the floor we chose". And mentioning that she's related to my speech professor from college, whom I liked very much. That she went to Italy and washed her clothes in the hotel room and hung them out the window to dry. I just plain like her.

So this morning I went to visit her garden. I took my camera because she told me about an intriguing Clematis vine that has bell-shaped blue blooms. As I walked through her house to the back, I saw she did have a lot of artist friends. The walls were covered with work. Important looking pottery and glass caught my eye. Creative touches everywhere inspired me, or to be more accurate, made me wish I tried harder in my own house.

I was at a loss for words when I walked on to her patio. I was still speechless for words though I was Oooing and Ahhhing when she handed me a generous cup of espresso. The first sip was a jolt as I hadn't expected espresso, and it was delicious.

She has raised flower beds throughout her yard, and their borders undulate in and out past the bricked patio. It is cool and lush. Roses, Lavender, Clematis, Lilac, Azalea, Hydrangea, Rhododendron, Columbine, varieties of fern, mature Wisteria, blue and white Spider Wort are the names I can think of, but there was much more. She also has a huge freeform iron sculpture, and tall cast planters holding pink daisies from South Africa. There is no direction to look that something is not growing.

Toward the back of the yard her husband and daughter were working in a nice size vegetable garden. They have a large drum composter behind their garage, and beside it, a 50 gallon? rain water collector they just installed. That really intrigued me. It is half full already, and comes with a spigot attached. They say rain water is the best for your plants; I think it's a good investment.

There are benches and garden chairs positioned here and there. Interesting art pieces, statues, and sculptures, and Green man faces added points of focus. I took two pictures and wouldn't you know it, my camera said 'battery exhausted'. Sherry said she'd let me know when her Wisteria blooms. I've not seen any since I was 12, so I look forward to that and I'd also like a better look at the art in her house, too.

Granddaddy Gallops

Since Mom was raised in Birmingham AL, but moved to Ohio when she married Dad, I never got to know her father very well. I was thinking about that and decided to write down what I know/remember about him. His name was John Fayette Gallops and he came from Georgia. (One of his brothers was named Grady.) He was very tall and had a lot of hair. We called him Granddaddy.

He worked on the Panama Canal before he married. Then he worked for the railroad running from Birmingham to Atlanta. Actually, he worked for a company, my mom once explained, that wanted him to oversee cargo that was being hauled on that train. Once he had a dog in his car. She said it was overcome by the heat and he worked and worked to come up with ways to save it, but it died. She said he felt terrible about that for a long time.

My dad said that when Mom took him to meet her parents, he overheard Granddaddy complain that he couldn't understand a thing that Yankee said.

Mom took me on a train to visit her parents when I was maybe 3 or 4? I remember a few things about that trip. I remember a black man wearing a hat with gold decorations on it walking down the aisle and giving me an egg salad sandwich wrapped in wax paper. He later turned our seats into a berth and Mom and I slept together in it with a curtain pulled across the opening.

Next I remember walking down a street (which was Alemeda Ave) and a thin little woman with black/gray hair in a bun and dark circles under her eyes, running towards us with her arms out, making a noise like she'd been hurt. It startled the shit out of me. My mom started to cry and I thought she was afraid. I also thought that it was a witch coming at us, so I cried too, but it turned out she was my grandmother. My mother called her "Mama".

When we went into their house, Granddaddy told me he had something to show me. He led me into the corner of their kitchen. There was a dead mouse in his mouse trap. He seemed pretty happy about that, but I'd never seen such a thing and felt sorry for the mouse.

I remember he held my hand and took me for a walk on a beautiful night. Mom dressed me in a pretty dress and shoes for that trip, with a tiny purse to carry. I think we road a bus too. He took me downtown and we stopped at what I thought was a theater and he bought me a paper cup of lemonade. He also stopped somewhere and let me select a toy but I don't remember what it was. I ate watermelon at their house and Granddaddy told me if I swallowed a seed I'd grow a watermelon in my belly. Oddly, I don't remember one thing about Grandmother after the "witch" incident, just a feeling that she was a kind woman.

Granddaddy came to visit us only once when I was pretty young. The biggest thing I remember about that is he left a red pill on the upstairs bathroom sink. I found it and thought it was an M&M and started chewing it. It was a bitter pill and made me vomit. He sent me a present for my high school graduation, a long strand of faux pearls.

Mom told me he was a member of the Presbyterian Church and (their) Ku Klux Klan. She said he had a white robe and hood in his closet.

He died in the early 70's; Mom, Dad and I drove to Birmingham to his funeral. Grandmother had been dead for a long time and he had remarried a woman named Minnie. Minnie buried Granddaddy in a grave where she too would be buried in the future. Mom discovered that when we were walking to the graveside. She started to cry because she had assumed/wanted her parents to be buried together. I, in my smart-aleck youth, stomped over to Minnie and her entourage to demand why the hell wasn't my granddaddy being buried with my grandmother? Mom was appalled with my behavior, but I never regretted it.

Also, after the service I took a couple flowers from an arrangement at the grave. Minnie squeaked "you're not taking flowers from the grave are you?" and to her entourage "I never saw such a thing!" I wasn't well versed on funeral etiquette, but saw nothing wrong with this. People looked shocked and I embarrassed myself, but I wouldn't back down to her and selected another. I never regretted that either.

Canoe, beaver, geese, cell phone

My son went on a little canoe trip last night. Temperature in the low 80's on a balmy evening. He was with his buddy, and they started out below Dover Dam, and stopped 2 1/2 hours later at the Wooster Ave. bridge in Dover. He said the river was low and quiet. They saw a beaver swimming and said his head was so big, he bet the beaver was as big as his dog, who weighs 60 pounds. He said they then came upon a large flock of geese, and he couldn't guess how many hundred baby geese. He said the parents raised their wings, honked, hissed and stuck their tongues out at them as they went by. Actually, there were so many he didn't know how the parents knew which were theirs. I wish I could have been there.

It sounded like a really nice evening, but as they got about 20 yards from their stopping place, he made a dumb move, and tipped into the river. He said the water felt delicious, so cool and refreshing. But he had to move fast because he had his cell phone with him. It got wet and wouldn't work. Oh, and he also lost his sunglasses.

So today, he was really upset with himself for letting that happen, and was trying to dry it out in the sun under the windshield of his vehicle. After about 3 hours in the sun, it still had condensation under the screen. So he left it sit there another 3 hours. By then the water was gone, he tested it and it started up. He didn't loose a bit of data, and knows how lucky he is on that one.

I still can't stop thinking about those baby geese.

Mom's Paring Knife

My mom used to regularly say "I couldn't live without my sharp knife". She had a little paring knife with a dark gray blade and an oval wood handle. It was almost as sharp as a razor and never needed sharpening. All my life I watched as she peeled vegetables and fruit, an expert at it. Her peelings were so thin you could almost see through them. She could peel a pound of potatoes in minutes, flicking the eyes out with a quick twist. Or an apple in a minute. She would share slices of whatever she sliced and that's how I came to know how good raw cabbage, rutabaga, and celery hearts are.

She didn't really want anyone else to use it. It was so sharp it was almost scary, and I'm sure she was afraid we'd mistreat it at some point (kind of like the time my son used my sewing shears to cut a wire, they were never the same after that). I could never attain her skill with a knife. Mine was nowhere as sharp as hers. I wanted that knife someday, but it disappeared after she got dementia.

I bought a similar one on eBay, finally, after months of searching and researching. Seems others know their value, because I bid against 7 others to get it. Turns out it was a carbon steel blade and I believe that is the secret. It will bloom with rust if not dried after use, but is always very sharp. I keep mine on my windowsill over the sink, because I want to know where it is all the time.

Auction Time

I haven't been to an auction in awhile but like everything about them. I like signing up for my bidder number, and perusing the tables, digging into the boxes, examining antiques and marveling at the beauty of old things. I like getting coffee and a gooey roll that I rarely allow myself anyplace else. My ears are open to conversations around me. I really do want to learn about antiques and the experts in our area are there. They generally keep their mouths shut. I can see their point, why give up your secrets and add competitive bidders? But others who are pretty smart are glad to tell you everything they know and more. There are, in my observation, 3 types of attendees. Those who congregate in the first 2 rows, the regulars, and the one's who stand behind the chairs, who are regulars (and share their knowledge) and the rest who seem to be irregular visitors. They are afraid to bid at first (like me).

I'm usually outbid. I'll spot maybe 3 things I really really want, but am not smart enough to know the items will go for 3-4 times my limit. It's ok. I always get a few things I'm happy with. It takes a couple hours for my adrenaline to settle, then I'm hungry for lunch. I always get soda and a coney and add everything on top including chopped onions. After lunch the heat of the day blooms. But people don't leave, they sit redfaced, backs wet and watch. The regulars in the front by now have boxes and boxes piled around their chairs.

Actually my favorite part of the auction is at the end, when they sell the rows of miscellaneous in boxes. I once bought 12 boxes, for about $3 apiece.

They really are full of useful things. Letter openers, keychains, razor blades, SOS pads, furniture polish, pot holders, jars of screws and nails, recipe books, fondue pot, perfumes, mirrors, rolls of shelf paper, can opener, incense burner & incense, wind chimes, sewing box stuffed full, bowling trophies, business envelopes, Christmas stuff, Matchbox cars, soldering iron, snack trays, electric skillet, box of paraffin, toothpick holder collection, light bulbs, ashtrays, can of WD-40, Elmer's glue, stapler, Tupperware Popsicle maker, Rosary, magnifying glass, Kodak camera, paint brushes, empty picture frames, trivets, magic markers, travel checkers game, Kleenex tissue holder, trowel, back scratcher from Florida, Dr Scholl's inserts (never been opened), dog leash and flashcubes. I love sorting through it, sharing with friends, keeping what I like and storing what I 'might need' later.

How to Build a Brick Sidewalk

I always wanted a brick sidewalk. So when I heard that a friends neighbor was giving away old paver bricks. I put dibs on them right away, surely I could build a little walkway around the side of our house? Then I realized this meant I had to haul bricks ASAP, find a place to store them until use, then figure out how in the world to do this.

So I drove my husbands truck to the lady's house and started loading bricks. They were so big and heavy I could hardly hold one in each hand. I carried them 2 by 2 to the bed of the truck and started stacking them.

When I got home I tried the wheelbarrow to move them 60 feet to the site. I was able to handle about 15 before it was too heavy to push. This wasn't working well. So I decided to carefully maneuver the truck sideways in the street, back up over the devils strip and sidewalk, and back up into the side yard, trying to miss the tree, hedges, house, flowerbeds, etc. It really wasn't that hard, just something I'd never done. Now I just had to off-load into stacks by the hedges.

I repeated these steps 3 more times, until I had gathered every brick she had. Now I started thinking about the pattern, width, supplies needed, and why the hell am I so impulsive?

I dug out the area where I wanted the walk, about 8" deep X 44" wide X 2 miles long, and wheelbarrowed about 16-20 loads of sod and soil to the compost pile 200 feet in the back yard. I am a fairly sturdy person, but this was hard work! The bricks were about 4x4x8. I figured on a base of 4" of sand, then the bricks, would make the walk pretty level with the grass.

The next week, I started looking for sand. I had no idea how much I'd need. It turned out all the playbox bags of sand had been sold out for the season in my area. Then I discovered our town has a sandpit. This place had huge mountains of rocks, gravel, sand and big machinery. I found their business trailer, parked and went in. A woman told me sand was $17.50 for a truck load. Perfect, all the sand I could need for only $17.50. She told me to drive on around the other side (she pointed to a mountain of sand behind me), and someone would help me there.

I did that, and within a minute a huge scooper machine drove up and dug into the mountain, backed up and approached the side of my truck. I started getting a little scared. The amount of sand he'd just scooped didn't look like much at all, just a corner of the scoop actually. But he raised it and drove forward until the scoop's shadow covered the truck, and started to dump it. The noise, shaking, and feeling the truck lower under the sand's weight scared me, and after just a few seconds I held my hand up to stop. Just because I wasn't sure how much I could take or the truck could take! The guy backed away and drove off.

So here I was with several tons of sand. I could tell when I put the truck into drive that this might be tricky going home. I drove very slowly and the engine whined. I started braking about 100 feet before each traffic light or stop sign. When I got home, I repeated my operation of backing into the side yard. Now I had to empty the truck (groan). Out came the wheel barrow again. Shovel, fill barrow, carry it to the plastic. I had laid out a plastic tarp because I didn't want the sand to melt into the grass. I kept that up until the truck was empty and I had an enormous sand pile.

Now my husband started getting involved. Ahem. He tried to describe how to build the base. He wanted me to make it slightly higher in the middle so water would run off. He wanted me to level and tamp the soil, then fill the area with sand and tamp it hard and smooth again, then plunk plunk plunk, lay the bricks in place. He said that would be the easiest. Oh, and to use a level going both the length and width so the angles of the bricks would be uniform.

So I leveled and tamped the soil. I lined my path with plastic so grass wouldn't grow up through the bricks. Then I filled the area with sand, tamped that, and finally it was time to start laying the bricks down. This finally felt like the fun part. I had a little stool I sat on to save what was left of my back. I'd carry 8-10 bricks to the work area, and start arranging them. Gradually it started to take shape. Carry bricks, place each one, place the level, hammer the brick (with rubber mallet) and check the level, over and over. I forgot to add I lined the walk edges with plastic landscape border as I went, kept it pushed up against the brick and stabilizing it with sand filled on the outer sides as I progressed. There might be a better way, but with the curves, this was the only method I could think of.

I got as far as the patio to the gate, about 25 feet, and stopped for the summer. I was exhausted. I still had half the walk left undone but my heart wasn't in it anymore. Except for another fun part. I threw buckets of sand over the finished bricks. When it dried out, I swept it, and the sand filled in the cracks and stabilized the bricks. It looks wonderful when it's done!

Finally, as the weather started to cool down, I bricked the rest of the walk toward the front of our house. It was one of the hardest projects I've ever attempted and it was worth the aching muscles, and swollen fingers. I go outside and walk that walk several times a day. I love how the bricks are all different earthy tones, that a little moss has established itself, that my cats use that walk, that it looks so beautiful, and that I built it all by myself for about $17.50. I counted the bricks this morning and was surprised there were exactly 400.

The Kirkbride Plan

This morning I drove north to tour what used to be called the Eastern Ohio Insane Asylum. A woman named Chris, who gave the program talk was very knowledgeable about it's history.

It was built in 1892 by the state. The buildings plans were based on a Dr Thomas Story Kirkbride, who believed that if people with mental issues could live in beautiful surroundings, with views of manicured lovely grounds, seen from any window of the buildings, that their countenance would surely improve, if not heal.

And so this self sufficient little town with hundreds of residents came to be. Eventually the asylum acquired several thousand acres. There they raised cattle, pigs, chickens, planted gardens and orchards, and lived off their land. The residents did much of the work in the barns, fields and kitchens. Many Kirkland-planned facilities looked like huge mansions, 4 and 5 stories tall. The plan put an administration building in the center, then the females lived off wings on one side, the males on the other. The patients who were the least ill and probably would not be staying long lived closest to the center building. The long term care patients lived further away, and the 'violent' ones lived on the edges, to the back.

At this hospital, I learned that it was decided instead of building one huge (and I'm talking castle size) building they would instead spread out. So they built a few hundred cottages on the grounds. The cottages are all now gone, but we saw pictures on a power point program and some were really beautiful homes.

Chris said most of the years the asylum was in operation, that the administrator lived on the grounds with his family. She said she has spoken with people who remember the administrators children being picked up by the school bus. Imagine how that would feel?

During the time Chris was employed there, a new rule said the residents could no longer be required to work where they lived. The livestock had long ago been sold, and the fields sold to a golf course, strip mall, etc. She spoke of one man who always wanted to sweep the dining room after meals. He would sweep, then they would give him his pipe and he'd sit down and smoke it awhile. She said he was very upset when he was told he could no longer sweep.

In the main lobby, there is a little display case with a few archives. It includes a mannequin wearing an old nurse uniform, and a ledger that I read with lots of interest. It's opened so you can only see one page dated 1921. Most of the who people entered there died there, though a few were only there a few weeks. It listed occupations such as farmer and housewife, and ages which were mostly 30's and 40's. It listed country of origin and it was amazing that almost no one was 'American' but it said Czechoslovakia, Hungary, English, Germany, Russia. Some of the reasons for admission were lunacy, menopause, alcoholism and drug addiction. There is also a straight jacket and a metal mesh mask! I also just read here on the internet that families facing the 'embarrassment' of a pregnant daughter would sometimes put her in an insane asylum.

Chris talked a lot about its operation today, in a clean modern large building. She stopped numerous times to give us details through out her power point presentation, then took us on a tour. One area is called 'the mall'. Those who are allowed can shop at a store for clothes, books and magazines & misc. items. There is a library, a music area, an art room, and a kitchenette where they teach cooking. There is a beautiful large gymnasium, the normal size seen in any high school. There are stained glass art works which I heard were made by a husband and wife team from Akron. We saw the dentist office, several medical type examination rooms and a few offices. And there is a large outdoor area with a large gazebo and a basketball court. They even have their own police department there.

Even though it sounds like I'm sugar coating this experience, it was evident that we were in a high security building. There was lots of locking and unlocking of doors. We'd been instructed not to wear anything revealing, too short, too low, or too tight, and they didn't have to tell me twice. The people who are here have committed crimes or tried to hurt themselves and are kept there under the order of a judge, who she said comes once a week to hear assorted patients requests. They are there because they are incompetent to stand trial, or not guilty by reason of insanity.

We were walked through three of the patient areas. Some people had been there a few days, some for 20 years. I won't describe those people in detail, but they weren't very scary or threatening. She said that if there was a yellow sign on an outside ward door, it meant to look before you unlocked it, because someone inside had tried to escape. Every door we entered had a yellow sign on it. So I was a little nervous about that. But they were all relaxed and most were sitting in groups chatting. Most of them waved to us and I wasn't sure if we should wave back, but sometimes we did. Some made comments which were, well, not inappropriate, but off-the-wall.

Their rooms have two beds and have all kinds of safety features to prevent patients from hanging themselves or hurting each other. They were all new and clean looking, and just looked like a regular room to me.

Chris has spent much of her career working in the community. She was very smart, very capable, and I'd want someone like her in my court. She spoke passionately about the problems that people go through when they have serious mental illness. For some years she did the admissions, being the first person a patient would see after some explosive event brought them to her, usually by ambulance or police car.

She said everyone was frightened or very upset and it was up to her to calm the situation down. She said she would explain that she was going to have to ask a lot of questions, but would they like a drink of water first? She hoped that they would later remember that in a worst time of their life, someone offered them a drink of water.

She described the common problem of patients not wanting to take their medications. But she understood it too. For example, she asked us if we were told we had to take a medication, but we could expect to gain about 50 pounds while on it, would we? Or we needed to take a medication, but then couldn't perform sexually, would we take it? Or we couldn't have a glass of wine or some beers with our friends, or we couldn't function at work because we couldn't think clearly, would we?

So it left me a lot to think about, but first I wanted to read about the Kirkbride Hospitals. Check out the link I have found to see pictures of these magnificent buildings.

http://www.kirkbridebuildings.com/buildings/index.html

Attic Orphans

Years ago I had a tortoise shell cat. It's been so long, I can't remember her name. She was a stray that I took in, and she got pregnant pretty fast. She had 3 kittens, two tortoise shells like herself, and a gold tiger male. Their nursery was a spare bedroom in my house.

One day I stopped at a friends house. They weren't home, but their mom was, so I sat at her kitchen table with her and chatted. I noticed an occasional little noise and asked her what in the world WAS that?

She told me that her cat had had kittens in her attic. She thought her cat had been killed on the road a day or two ago. She said "the poor things, they just cry and I don't know what to do about it?"

Well, I brushed my irritation away because that wouldn't help, I had to get those babies some care. I asked the woman how to get into the attic and she told me there was no easy way, and she pointed to a place on the ceiling where there was a square like a window on the ceiling. This turned out to be one of those staircases Chevy Chase encounters in his Christmas Vacation movie. I had to stand on a chair to reach a handle, and pull down. A ladder was folded up into this contraption, so I unfolded it out into the room, steadied myself and headed up.

It didn't take long to find two little gray tiger kittens. I scooped them up and came back down. They were tiny and weak. Their eyes were sunk in, everything was sunk in. They were badly dehydrated. They were about 3 weeks old, just a bit younger than my kittens at home. We couldn't figure out how the mother cat had gotten up there, but it didn't matter now.

I drove home and took the orphans into the bedroom. The mama cat was asleep with her babies. She ignored me when I walked in, so I just carefully laid each baby close to her nipples. The babies dove in. I sat down and watched for a long time. Finally the mama woke up, looked down, sniffed a couple times and started licking them both with vigor. By that evening their little tummies were round, and they had picked up energy. They would would survive! I was SO relieved!

I don't have a picture of those babies, so I've added a picture of my cat Danny. My husband found her in the alley during a bad windstorm a day before my birthday, so I called her my birthday present from him. Then he couldn't say we had to find a home for her. haha

Goat Island

My dad was the eldest of 4, with twin brothers and a little sister. There is a story he used to tell that was always one of my favorites.

I'm not clear on all of the details, but I want to write what I remember. It had to be in the 1930's. Grandma and Grandpa had taken the little sister Leah to have her tonsils removed. Back then doctors often had their offices in the home they lived in, and they removed tonsils right in their office! They left my father Russell, and the twins Gene and Dean, at home on the farm. They didn't know when they'd be back, so I'm sure a list of instructions were left for the boys. One of them was that a load of coal had been ordered and was to be delivered that day; they were to help the coal man.

Their house was located in a valley; and there is a quarter mile gravel lane leading down to it. So on this day, the boys were left on their own for a good part of the day. Dad said they fooled around, and eventually became bored. So they decided to walk to a friends house. I'm sorry I don't know who the friend was. But whoever it was, it had to be a walk as neighbors were quite far apart. They found this friend and decided to go play along the Tuscarawas river, near the White Bridge on Rt 800.

While playing there they found a rowboat. Well, what do you think 4 boys would do when they found a row boat on the shore of a river? And there was an island nearby. I think he called this Goat Island, and said someone kept a herd of goats there. So these boys took that boat and rowed around Tuscarawas River and went to Goat Island to explore/play.

They were gone a long time, hours by now probably. During this time the coal delivery came. There is a basement window where a coal chute from the truck was placed and the coal easily slid down into the basement in the coal room with a little persuasion with shovels. The coal man had no one to open the basement window, so he drove back up the lane and dumped that load at the top by the main road.

When Grandma and Grandpa finally drove home with little Leah, Grandpa was angry to find his coal laying by the road. And when they drove down to the house, the boys were gone. They were in big trouble. So the wait began for Russell, Eugene, and Dean to make their way home.

But...there was a big problem. The boys played all afternoon on that island, but when they decided it was time to leave, the boat was gone! (I remember something about it's owner coming over to get it and leaving them there on purpose on that island, because he was angry they stole it, and was going to teach them a lesson. But that detail I'm not sure about) The boys had no option but to wait for help. Dad said they called and yelled and called some more. But no one heard them.

As it got later and later, Grandma became more and more worried (I can only imagine!). I think they had a phone but I'm not sure. I know they didn't have electricity. Grandpa had to get in his Model T, or whatever they drove, asking around had anyone seen the boys? The news came to them that the boys had been seen heading toward the river. Can you imagine how frightening that must have been for them? Eventually he had a lot of people out hunting for them. And finally someone heard them calling and they were rescued.

The next day, the punishment was that Dad and his brothers had to carry the coal by buckets to the basement. I can only try to imagine how hard that was, but it seems like a pretty good punishment to me.

Added 5/31/09-My brother said I had the story right. He said Dad also was sent to bed without supper, but that Grandma took plate of food to him.

Lamb chops

At our house traditions don't change easily, yet one year my husband announced that a he ordered a leg of lamb for Easter. I was appalled. Everyone knows we have ham and scalloped potatoes and coconut cake made with a fresh coconut, and candy for Easter. I let him take over when the huge bloody thing arrived. Actually it turned my stomach a little. The man he'd ordered it from had butchered it himself and supplied a recipe. I got a little more interested when I saw the list of herbs for the herb rub. And the cream and red wine for the sauce.

So we entered uncharted territory and altered our tradition. We roasted that lamb. We searched for and discarded the fat pocket located above and to the outer area of it's knee. This fat we were told, was what caused the gamey flavor. We bought red potatoes, asparagus, yellow pepper and spring onions. I made a Key Lime Pie.

It was delicious. And we've come to look very forward to it.

This year we changed our lamb cut slightly. The last couple of years we allowed our dog to eat at the leftover lamb leg and it made him feel kind of sick, so this year, so we won't feel compelled to share, I bought two boneless leg roasts.

Here's our recipe (which I'll alter because now we have boneless lamb:

8 pound leg of lamb
2 tablespoons of olive oil

Put the lamb in the largest roaster you have. Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Score the fat in diamond shapes. Peel a bunch of garlic and make little stabs all over the lamb and sick the garlic down into the slits. Then cover the lamb with the olive oil. Use your hands, this is the fun part.

Mix in a bowl:
1 tsp of each
thyme, basil, rosemary, tarragon, marjoram, oregano, 4 tsp of parsley and 1/2 tsp of black pepper.

Pat the herbs all over the lamb. Put it in the oven uncovered for 10 minutes then reduce the oven to 350 degrees and roast it for 90 minutes. Then arrange red potatoes, spring onions, and a yellow pepper cut into strips. Roast it for another hour or until the lamb is 160 degrees.

Move all the meat and vegetables out of the roaster and in that pan use 2 tablespoons of fat, 1/2 cup dry red wine, and cook til reduced by half. Add one cup beef broth and cook til reduced by half. Add 1/2 cup of half and half or cream and cook until it coats the back of a spoon. This is your gourmet sauce. (This year we tripled this recipe because the sauce is so good!)

We serve this with asparagus and coleslaw or a salad. It's fun to open a bottle of champagne at some point during the cooking, to help celebrate the beginning of spring.

Crossing the Street

The rule was that NO ONE was allowed to cross the street. Under any circumstances.

In 1956, I crossed the street to go to the Eisenhower campaign headquarters. It was located in a house right beside the Goshen Dairy. I had found out they were giving away free campaign buttons. They gave me one; it had a little metal tab you folded down to pinch on to your shirt. Then I found what I really wanted. There, under glass in a display case with stickers and other campaign stuff was the most beautiful pin I'd ever seen! IKE spelled out in RW&B rhinestones! I was spellbound with it and it wasn't free or cheap, I think it was $3.00! So much money! I remember the ladies telling me to go home when I hung there too long.

Another incident when I crossed the street was after a summer storm. My parents had left to run some errands. My friend Becky and I were playing in my yard when we heard sirens! Sirens in my town were something not often heard and always reason for possible excitement. Becky and I could clearly hear them very close by. We couldn't resist and crossed 3rd street and continued down Ashwood Lane. We saw nothing on 4th St. So we crossed it and headed down to 5th. I could see people ahead and with excitement we ran up the alley toward what now we could see were fire trucks, police cars and lots of people.

The problem was a tree limb had fallen and taken an electric line with it. The wire was live and was sparking and dancing around right at the opening of the alley and 5th St. No one was near it-except us. The crowd watched as a fireman walked toward us keeping a safe distance from the wire. Then I saw them. My parents were standing in the crowd. I was totally busted. I knew where I was supposed to be, and it wasn't there. I started to cry and every one thought it was because I was hurt. The fireman asked me if I was ok and nodded yes. He took my hand and led us safely away. My parents confiscated me. Looking back, I realized they both had fear in their eyes and weren't thinking about scolding me.



And finally my favorite experience associated with crossing the street. I mentioned that we lived very close to the Goshen Dairy? It was a wonderful place. Ice cream cones were 5¢ for one scoop, 10¢ for 2 scoops. High up on a shelf on the back wall behind the counter were two giant fake ice cream cones. I think one had one scoop of vanilla with a chocolate scoop on top. The other one was identical but I think with vanilla and strawberry. My favorites-chocolate, chocolate ripple, butterscotch ripple, White House, and raspberry, orange, or pineapple sherbert. I spell it like we pronounced it. Sherbert.

Anyway, this dairy delivered milk. All day long the horse pulled yellow wagons that said Goshen Dairy on the sides. The horses lived behind the dairy. Their stalls were right off the alley and as you walked by, sometimes you'd see a horse or two standing in there.



Well, one day I had again crossed the street and walked up the alley to see the horses. There were little kittens playing in the hay. Even today, a sight like that will bring me to a screeching stop. And so it did that day. I walked into the corner of that barn, sat in the hay and pulled kittens into my lap. I held kittens all day. I held them as they slept, tried to play, played with my fingers, met their mother and petted her. I held each one as tenderly as I could and carefully put them all to sleep. I held them and held them and held them.

I wasn't allowed to hold cats. I was allergic to a lot of things back then. I'd never held one in my life, but that day I more than made for any shortage I might have felt. Finally a man spotted me and told me to leave. Even at that age I knew I was some place I wasn't really supposed to be, and I left wheezing. But it was worth it.