Hi, y’all!

Since my brain now remembers new thoughts for only a few minutes, or lets me recall an old thought in a word or two for later, I started a new ButtonDown four days ago with one-word reminders of things I wanted to cover in this writing episode. Today is the 20th, but the draft I saved probably shows you that this was written on the 16th. (I really miss Tinyletter.)

Here they are the reminders, in no particular order:

table, formica, hanging out, bird dream, colonoscopy, locust trees, digging, compost, walnut oil, walnuts, Bob W, trivia

Bob W (Weisgerber) goes with walnuts, walnut oil, table, and - peripherally - formica. This would be about the Gregory family table, which sits in my kitchen. Dad and Mom wisely had it covered in formica when they were feeding 11 of us - I think the pattern was called “ice cube” - because it would be easier to keep clean. I think it also originally had heavy spooled legs, which Dad cut to tapers - again, easier to keep clean. The table has four leaves, one of which has the formica still on it. The other three leaves were left at various stages of the restoration (to original oak, I think) that my brother Marty may have started. I wouldn’t have; I’m much too lazy! The un-formica’d leaves are rough, so if I’m having bunches of people over, I use all four leaves, but cover the whole thing with a pad and a tablecloth.

Bob comes into this because he was a fabulous fine woodworker here in Burnsville. He died unexpectedly in 2013. Super nice guy, and always happy to share his extensive knowledge. I may have asked him about how to deal with white water stains on the old oak table, and he said to use walnut oil. He probably gave me some; he was that kind of guy. Recently I noticed new water stains, so bought another bottle of walnut oil, but also a large package of shelled English walnuts; can’t say why. I kept a jelly jar’s worth of walnuts, and gave the rest to my neighbor Mary.

There were several water spots on the table that I wanted to fix, including one about the size of my palm. I used walnut oil on half the spot, and rubbed a raw walnut on the other half. They did an equally swell job of restoring the oak finish to its original color. I’m guessing the raw walnuts have enough oil in them to do the job. I now wonder if an oak nut would do the same - seems like it oughta.

Hanging Out (No clue. I’ll try to remember to give myself more information next time. I’ll bet it was fun. I’ll bet it had something to do with Amber Leigh Westall Briggs.)

Bird Dream (Also no clue, but probably I dreamt I was a bird?)

Colonoscopy Presumably my last one, on July 15th. I’m guessing most of you are old enough to have gone through this. I don’t remember the prep and the aftermath ever having been as difficult as it was this time. ‘Nuff said.

Locust Trees are beautiful, but my last Buttondown told you everything about what’s happening with them here.

Digging Again, no clue, although I am pretty sure I need to go out into a little clearing out back where I’d planted three azaleas. I must have struggled with digging proper holes, because all three of them look like I just pulled them out of their buckets and set them down on the grass. Not how I usually roll with living things.

Compost This one’s a gem. My friend Mark Langner (you may know him as the guy who sharpens knives at the Farmers’ Market) gave me an excellent .pdf about the topic, and several hundred red wigglers to get it going. Mark used to own MAYtime Composting Systems. Unfortunately, I’d already started off with a bucket system I’d seen on YouTube. It required the use of 5-gallon plastic buckets and drilling holes of 2 sizes in various places on the buckets and lids. Long story short, I’ve resorted to begging Mark to make a home visit. I’m pretty sure the worms are still alive, but I’m not sure they’re happy. I’m not; I think I’ve reached my level of incompetence. Worms vs. Lucy. Who knew?

Trivia This is an easy one, thank gods! Birdfoot, a beer and wine joint behind the glass-blowing place (which used to be Ted’s Garage) has restarted Trivia every other Wednesday night. I’m on the team “The Potato Liberation Front.” I think we’ve won every time we’ve played. I believe my participation - frankly speaking - is useful only because the quizmaster and everybody else on my team is half my age, and I know some shit they don’t. (Old age is my superpower in these circumstances.) My honorary grandson Jacobo from next door is usually there with his mom Mary. (She used to be “my” Mary, and Mary Haidri, who is also on our team, used to be “Ronni’s” Mary. Then the Marys and their partners bought Plott Hound Books from Ronni, so they are now The Marys who don’t belong to anyone.)

Anyway, so I was wandering around the pub with Jacobo, since the team rarely needs my input. I was standing by the window with him in my arms, and in his adorable 18-month-old way, he was amazed by the light strings. And then. . . . I heard the quizmaster ask, “What was Muhammad Ali’s real name?” and I saw Mary’s head snap around, looking for me. I knew those young whippersnappers needed me, and I walked over to her and whispered, “Cassius Clay.” We won again. Life is indeed good. Even if you are old.

Remember, those of you who live in North Carolina - mark your calendars for September 20, when I resume what used to (before Covid) be my quarterly BYOB and A Finger-Food to Share parties. They used to always have a theme, and I thought of a good possibility a couple/three weeks ago but then forgot what that was. Maybe this time the theme should be “Stuff I Keep Forgetting.”

One other thing: when I lived out in Higgins, my neighbor Sonny Higgins told me about what he called (sounded like) “Cheah Chazz.” There’s no spelling for that - both words sound like “jazz” - like a singular “yeah” but starting with CH, and then “chazz”. I’m guessing it’s a traditional Appalachian term; I’d never heard it before, although I’ve heard their sound and knew them as cicadas.

What’s very strange to me is that the cicadas’ noise - not sure how to describe it - has always been a nightly constant; they always chirped, buzzed, vibrated, whatever you call it all night. And now, they’re stopping for a minute or so, then starting up again. Are any of you hearing this?

Ciao,

Lucy