The usual: doors to bathroom, bedroom. No threshhold to get into kitchen or living room.
Door to my office. I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in here, especially given that I am retired. Email, reading blogs, creating stuff, dealing with my (many) volunteer activities. This is where it all happens.
Door to laundry/sewing/craft room. That's where my stash lives. The beverage refrigerator happens to be in there, too.
Does a virtual threshhold count? Because if it does, the threshhold to the wider world of the Internet is one I cross many times a day.
That's it. Those are the only ones I cross every day. There are many days when I do not leave the house. (Yay, retirement!) In the interests of making a reasonable list, I shall list a few others that I cross frequently.
The door into my car*, the vehicle that takes me to that other wider world, the one that some people call The Real World.
The door into the local library. There are very few times I leave home that I don't make a stop at the library, either to pick up new books or drop off other books I have finished.
The doors of the supermarket and WalMart. Sadly.
The doors to a few of the local restaurants. But not the bars. For whatever reason, I almost never go into a bar.
The door to the government center, although since losing the election I go in there far less often. Seems like I used to be in there several times a week; now, it's more like a couple times a month.
That's it. Rural world = small world.
* I need to tell you a little story about my car. On Sunday when I met up with my friend Jeff, who had volunteered to ride with me in the parade, the first thing he said after hello was Shall we run your car through the car wash?
Him: Sure. I'll pay.
Me: You don't have to do that. But srsly?
And thus my car was clean for the parade.
Although I understood his concern -- presenting a nice sparkly image for our local group -- I didn't really see any need to wash the light-colored dust off my silver car, especially since everything behind the windshield would be covered by signs. It is immaterial to me whether the outside of my car is clean or covered with dust from the gravel road I must drive on. In the winter Smokey runs my car through the carwash over my vigorous-but-futile protests (the locks always freeze!) and occasionally during the rest of the year (but why?). I dislike having any clutter in my car, but the outside? Who cares?
This was our group in the last parade. Lady in light blue shirt is Kelly Westlund, running for Congress from our district.
Gonna drive in the Lucky Days parade this afternoon. Got a big bowl of candy to throw to the kids along the route. I tell myself all through every parade, "Don't drive over a kid. Don't drive over a kid. Don't drive over a kid." It's a good rule.
* * * * *
Joke :: practical.
Away :: game.
Reaction :: time.
High :: times.
Movie :: times.
Decide :: later.
Afternoon :: delight.
Contrarian :: Smokey.
Understand :: grok.
Zone :: no parking.
* * * * *
I continue to knit on the fingerless glove project. Four pairs mostly done, and cast on for a fifth pair last night. Only one pair is completely done; the others all need thumbs, one pair needs its hems sewn down, and most need their ends woven in. I am saving all that finishing for some night when I am watching TV.
In other TV-related news, we just joined the rest of the US and* got a flat TV. I think it is 46", maybe 42", plenty big for our cozy living room. Younger Son set it up for us on Saturday morning. It took me roughly 30 seconds to get used to having a bigger screen. The viewing experience changes a little -- I find I am more aware of the rest of the picture, not just the main action/actor. Our old TV, a 32" digital CRT model, will go to live in Elder Son's house.
* I have found it a little disconcerting to see huge flat-screen TVs in the living rooms of pretty much every house that leaves its curtains open. Why does everyone else -- even people whom I know are on a severely limited income -- have a fancy-schmancy TV and we don't? Well, because we were waiting for the prices to come down to cheap. And they did.
Smokey and I visited Elder Son in Sioux Falls this weekend. Did I tell you that is where he is doing his residency? He is two weeks into it and seems to be happy (yay!)
No photos to share (boo!) because I suffered from camnesia all weekend. Let me tell you about a couple unillustrated coffee experiences, though.
After we went out for lunch on Sunday, I forced the driver at gunpoint requested that we stop at a coffee shop so I could get my daily dose of caffeine. I had noticed a small remodeled house with a large sign, Ethiopian Coffee House and Restaurant, on the way to lunch.
As I walked into the front room -- the former living room, now with a bar in one corner housing the liquor and the expresso machine -- I realized to my horror that the room was filled with men. Standing room only and not a female in sight. The men were all watching the World Cup final on the HD TV on the wall and cheering for Argentina. (Apparently the German team is not popular with the Ethiopian male contingent.) Mr. Messi! they kept shouting. In my ignorance I thought Mr. Messi was the proprietor, and they were shouting for service. Actually, Leo Messi is a star on the Argentine team.
Anyway, I felt rather out of place as I ordered my four-shot latte, which was served with four shots of espresso and zero latte. After dosing it with milk back at ES's house, I found it to be quilte palatable. And a good story.
* * * * *
We left around noon on Monday. Once again, after eating lunch I forced asked Smokey to stop so I could get coffee, this time at a kiosk in the lot where we had parked. The sign said Open but there was no one visible inside.
...until the window flew open and a 30-ish man exploded into the opening.
Hello! he shouted. How are you today?What can I get you?
We decided he had been injesting his wares since 6am. The day before. I really don't know how one person can contain that much energy inside a 6'x6' space. He must be absolutely cray-cray by the end of his shift.
Jerk :: chicken. I seem to have food on the mind this morning.
Closed :: mind.
Texture :: -d stitches.
* * * * *
Younger Son sent me a photo that a friend had taken of Ser Percival The Energetic.
Look at the size of that mouth. Now imagine your leg in there. Beware the pit bull.
* * * * *
Smokey figured out that it was the 20+ year-old sunscreen I used on Saturday that had caused the allergic reaction and made my eyes swell to monster size. So much for trying to use up old stuff -- that sunscreen is going in the trash. I don't look quite as bad as I did on Sunday, but I would still scare small children. Sheesh.
* * * * *
Earlier this week I had to drive through Lindstöm. Remember Lindström? Anyway, I got myself a small Blizzard at the DQ (mint chocolate chip, thanks for asking) and looked for a shady place to park while I ate it. (I hate having to get out of the car. Drive-through, every time.) A block or so later I found a cemetary, lots of shade. Perfect.
As I drove around looking for my ideal spot -- level, shady, not too obvious -- I came across this tombstone.
Have I been knitting? Yes. Have I been taking pictures of my knitting? No.
I have been busily making fingerless gloves to sell at the farmer's market later this summer and fall in support of the new library. The library building committee is sponsoring the market and gets the booth fees. They also have a table to sell dog blankets and other crafts, all proceeds going to the building fund.
I finished my third pair yesterday, then discovered that Ser Percy had snatched a glove from the second pair -- 100% alpaca*, no less -- and had mangled it a bit. I grumbled and fumed as I wove in the ends on pair #3, then inspected the pair #2 damage more closely. Glove turned out not to be salvageable, but the yarn was. Frogged and 1" reknit so far. Will finish this weekend.
Damned alpaca-chewing dogs...
* Apparently dogs prefer alpaca to wool. Go figger.
Today Carole has us listing what we served with our Fourth of July barbecue. Since I was responsible only for the meat course, I was not concerned with side dishes. But that doesn't mean I don't have favorites.
Ten Favorite Summer Side Dishes.
Kale salad. Mine is kale, raisins or craisins, thing-sliced onion, and pecans, with sweetened balsamic vinaigrette. The one served at the Fourth of July pot luck picnic was kale, slivered almonds, and Parmesan; some kind of vinaigrette dressing -- it was a hit with everyone.
Greek village salad. Chunked tomatoes, cucumbers, feta cheese, kalamata olives, onion, with an oregano/lemon vinaigrette.
Tossed green salad. My year-round standard is Romaine lettuce, some paper-thin sliced onion, halved cherry tomatoes, sliced fresh mushrooms, diced feta cheese, and pitted kalamata olives. Dressing may be balsamic vinaigrette or creamy Caesar.
Spinach salad. My year-round standard is spinach, sliced hard-cooked egg, paper-thin sliced onion, pecan halves, and maybe some halved cherry tomatoes. Dressing is Cardini's Asian Sesame.
Quinoa salad. Quinoa tossed with raw or semi-cooked vegies and dosed with vinaigrette. I prefer this to pasta salad because it is gluten-free.
Potato salad. Not the traditional one with mayo; one with an oil-sabed dressing and seasoned with rosemary. And maybe garlic. I need to create a recipe.
Sliced watermelon,cantaloupe, and/or honeydew.
Fruit compote -- melon balls (water-, cantaloupe, and honeydew), sliced strawberries, blueberries, and sliced kiwi, all tossed with a sprinkling of sugar and a couple tablespoons of Triple Sec.