Steps—There are twenty odd steps between my bedroom door and the coffee pot in the kitchen. Even if I make a trip into the big world, I don’t get around much in a day. But I decided not to be so hard on myself. If I want to bring back a sandwich and a cup of coffee, it’s two round trips, once for the sandwich and another for the coffee. I tried balancing the sandwich plate on top of the cup of coffee, and it can be done, but is just over difficult.
Throat plates—A throat plate is part of a sewing machine. If it must be removed, generally two screws are removed and the plate lifts out. Way last summer, before I broke a bunch of bones, Jan and Tom came by and Tom tended to some repairs needed on the new loom. Toward the end Tom needed a trip to the hardware store, and Jan, of shear boredom, tore down my sewing machine for a good cleaning.
My sister can dis and reassemble a sewing machine blindfolded, in the dark. But at the end she made an error. My brother did this; Laura does it; most adults do it. Jan did it. She snugged down the throat plate screws. My machine is a nice old Brother, and its only fault is a good ability to get a screwdriver to the throat plate screws.
I called my sister, and found her down in Amish country, in a quilt fabric shop, weighing augmenting her stash. I bet the shop keeper tipped the scale. I went back to weaving until Laura came in from school, and removed the screws. I screwed them back in.
Handicap placards—The placard that hangs from my rear view mirror, and entitles me to park in designated places up by the door of a shop, expires after the last day of this month. I’ve had a placard so long that mine has slipped over to five year expiration. I called the office; the receptionist will get the paperwork together for me to pick up.
Tomato—Ruth and I try to get out to lunch, though this summer has been difficult. We have been several times to a restaurant in Cleveland called Tomato\Tomado. A casual little place; order at the counter for delivery to your table. It’s a lunch crowd place, heavy on fruits and vegetables.
Last spring Ruth said she’s been told of another ”tomato restaurant” in the Hudson area, and I should keep an eye out. One day, by the library, I saw a tomato go by. I went around the block to be sure, and found The Tomato Grill. Then I broke my leg and butt, and had my arm fixed. We didn’t make it to The Tomato Grill until yesterday.
Ruth was perfect, of course, but I was underdressed in jeans. She had crab cakes and I had squash soup and grilled tomato salad. The food was first rate, and so was the service. We probably won’t go back.