Posts Tagged: domestic
A Happy Series of Events
- Shellynoir leaves Sang and me six tall IKEA bookcases when she moves to Brooklyn. They take up a whole wall of the living room. But
- for several years they are mostly empty, because it is vexing to figure out how to attach them to the wall so they won’t kill us in an earthquake.
- old-school lathe and plaster wall in which it is difficult to find studs
- baseboard that keeps the shelves from standing quite flush with the wall. It doesn’t seem right to remove and saw up the baseboard for shelving if it’s not built-ins. But!
- for my birthday, Sang Does The Thing!
- buys boards to affix to the wall, solving the baseboard gap problem, and even paints them to match the wall, with paint the previous owner left behind for us in the basement in 1996
- gets toggle bolts to fasten the boards to the wall, even though making 5/8″ holes in the plaster is unnerving
- fastens the bookcases to the boards with L brackets.
- We go to IKEA for a few extra shelves. And breakfast.
Two dollars! excluding coffee and elderflower drink.
Things that now have a designated place on the living room shelves:
- current household files
- shoe box of correspondence to be saved
- my university library books
- my TBR that are not library books
- my borrowed-from-individuals books
- footstool that Bookherd made
- art supplies TBD – colored pencils and sketchpads?
- picture books
- OED, Oregon road atlas, Sunset Garden Book, Chinuk Wawa dictionary, and a few other reference books
- the globe
- comics
- poetry
- coffee table books
- empty shelf for the kitty
- Legos, Zoob, K’Nex
- games
- art and photos from friends
- pop-up books
- Sang’s research project books, mostly from university library
- Sang’s Holmesiana
- yoga mat, foam roller, rollout-stick
Now, in addition, the mostly-fiction in the other room won’t be so overstuffed, and shelving will be easier there too. I am very, very pleased.
Throwback Thursday: Runway Walk
I surprised sanguinity this morning with a skill from my past– a practiced runway walk, complete with stop, pivot, and graceful gestures at features of my clothing as they are described by the narrator (who was also me).
I learned it in 4-H, because we had a fashion show every year to show off the clothes we sewed, knitted, and crocheted.
Granted, mine is the smiley midwestern version, more A Dream For Addie than Project Runway. But then, I was modeling a Rick-Rack Rhapsody navy-blue t-shirt from JCPenney. Frump Power!
Monday Magpie
I save up links by posting them with “Only Me” access in FaceBook. Here’s a few that I still find of interest:
- I enjoyed Victoria “Winnie the Pow” Jamieson’s Roller Girl, pitch-perfect and set in Portland, and of course it made me think about what my derby name should be if I ever join a league. Fuse Eight riffed on kidlit derby names (Nancy Drew Blood. Jacob Have I Shoved.) a few years ago. I am pleased to see that Ramona the Pestilence isn’t taken yet, per the registry. Maybe someday.
- Audre Lorde’s first published poem appeared in Seventeen magazine! Here’s a little more about it, with quotes from her autobiography Zami about her group of high-school friends, their support and their silences. Now I really want to read Zami.
- Matt de la Peña’s Newbery acceptance speech was published this morning and it has EVERYTHING. Kid-Matt with his school librarian, what The Phone Call was like, the make-me-cry-at-the-end part, it’s classic and perfect! *snif*
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First there was one large bloom with a corona of buds, and now all the coronal buds have bloomed. Their fragrance is so wonderful that I find myself thinking that watering and protecting this rose is sufficient purpose in life. I’m going to spend the evening sitting down-breeze from it in the backyard.
What to Put on French Fries
Sanguinity over-browned some roux while making creamed spinach and decided to start over. Later she turned the browned batch into Sauce Espagnole, and we rediscovered how wonderful our 1975 edition of Joy of Cooking is:
Legion are the children of this mother-sauce, and only the cook’s clumsiness or lack of ingenuity need convert them into the changelings we lump together as “gravy.”
Graaaaaavy.
hot and cold
The outdoor part of the heat pump started making an alarming rattle; since it’s freezing rain season, sanguinity thinks it has ice built up inside somewhere. Therefore, we are now running the A/C full blast to push warm air from the living room out past the mechanism and hopefully melt the ice. Then if it works we can heat the house again, maybe.
I have turned on the electric blanket in case it’s an early bedtime instead.
Inappropriate heating and cooling seems to be a bit of a theme in our life: rolling up the windows and blasting the car heater in the summer for “car sauna” to acclimate for Badwater, rolling down the windows and blasting the car heater that Christmas the dog rolled in dead fish and we couldn’t stand to be enclosed with him, and de-smoking the house that time during the Snowpocalypse when the exercise ball caught on fire on the old furnace grate.
The heat pump controls for air conditioning go down to 64 degrees. Economically sensible, but inadequate for certain experiments or, say, a Mr. Popper’s Penguins scenario. Fortunately, you can hit a button with a little picture of a strongman flexing his bicep, and the heat pump gives it all it’s got for 20 minutes. We call him Skookum-Man.
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