Me, My brain, and Martha Stewart
I have the feeling that Martha Stewart never hung wash out on a line to dry. If any of you have seen that she did, I will retract that. I’m not sure how or when I saw something about her folding sheets, because I didn’t have television for so long, and certainly haven’t seen her on television since the “smart” tv revolution, but I remember her explaining an easy way to fold what we called “contour” or “fitted” sheets - meaning sheets that had elastic in the corners to fit a mattress.
Well…this certainly was before the time that sheet manufacturers decided to put elastic all the way around the sheet, not just in the corners. This has made my life hell, and it’s her fault. Plus, she had a big ol’ table in her studio that she could lay stuff out on. I don’t have a studio dedicated to folding sheets.
So, I’ve decided not to care. Any old way I can stuff two sheets and a pillowcase into the 2nd pillowcase so it sits more or less flat on the closet shelf - life is good. (I have the feeling I’ve covered this topic before, so forgive me if I have; I have got a great excuse. My brain.)
By Wednesday, I should hear the results of the EEG the neurologist ordered on July 1st. I don’t really know what an EEG does, but it was kind of fun having it done. I was in a darkened room with a woman who reminded me a lot of Flo, the Progressive Insurance commercial’s character. She told me she was applying what she called “dragon snot” to maybe 30 (?) places on my skull to attach electrodes (I think) to. She had me blow continously for 3 minutes at a toy windmill. Sounds easy, but it’s not. After just a few blows, your lips are dried out and you have to stop to lick them. Three minutes can last a long time. Also had to name the current president and a couple other things. I think I passed; maybe got extra credit.
While my brain is telling me there’s absolutely no reason to get out of bed before 10 a.m., my body is telling me that I must keep moving or I will die. So, on July 1st, I re-joined the local gym, paying for a year’s membership. (I’d been a charter member when it first opened 20 or 30 years ago - when they said if they had 800 people sign up, they’d add an Olympic-size swimming pool. Immediately 1200 people signed up, but the pool was never built. That doesn’t bother me because I generally never want to be seen in public in a bathing suit anyway.) But still.
A week after working out, my brain informed me that I could not afford a year’s membership, so I quit and got a refund. I can buy a punch-card and go at random times, not being committed to showing up every day in order to get my money’s worth. This is good for people like me who change channels frequently, so to speak.
Finally, this morning, my body won over my brain. I’d finished watching my beloved MidSomer Murders by 10pm last night, read my requisite Dave Barry, and woke up this morning un-alarmed at 6:30! I went to the garden and turned on the sprinkler (rain isn’t forecast for several days).
It was cool outside, and once the dogs got out to sniff the front yard and then eat, I clipped the retractable harness to Ronni’s dog Otter (Sadie and Fang do not like to go for walks!), and we walked uptown so I could check the bulletin board I “edit” outside the old Hilltop Restaurant (which is still vacant, unbelievably).
We walked back via the Town Square and up N. Main past what used to be the fire department and is now the public works department. Otter got to sniff more great, exotic smells than she probably has in years. Thankfully, I had a roll of poop bags on me, and used three. I think that’s some kind of record.
When we got back, I turned off the sprinkler and planted a sweet potato that I have been rooting in a glass for a couple of weeks. I planted it near the fence so it can climb and hang on. We shall see. A friend of a friend told me they’re invasive, but I really don’t understand that; if they are - great! I’m not supposed to eat nightshades, and sweet potatoes aren’t, plus I love them.
I spent the next couple of hours peeling watermelon rinds to make pickles, which I remember fondly from my childhood. They’re sweet. I am sure I must have helped my mother make them at some point; they were a real staple for us - but I don’t remember that much work or that it took 4 days to make a batch, which is what the recipe I had (from our neighbor in Big Bend, Nancy Fickau) said. So, deciding that, despite Nancy’s recipe, which called for both the syrup and the rinds to be boiled separately 4 times over the next 4 days, I was going to finish them today, I did. They’re cooling on the counter now.
I think they’re supposed to ‘sit’ for a couple of weeks, before the pieces are properly infused with the cinnamon and clove oils. I’ll test one before I share.
Off to the garden to see if my sweet tater has grabbed onto the fence yet…
Stay cool and think nice thoughts.
xox
Lucy