How to conquer territory and foment world unrest with a loom and a pocket knife

After a lovely two week visit, Hazel and Tony are back to Cambridge tonight, via London. Tony (who is singing in the kitchen as I type) just returned from mailing home the pocket knife he purchased at Kidron’s Hardware, in Amish Country. 2 ½” blade, perfect, he announced to Tom on the way back. Then, “Bloody hell, I can’t take it on the airplane.” So Mr. Regular Bloke and my brother-in-law drove into “your little village” and dropped “three quid” at the post office to preempt TSA. “Yes, OK, not bad,” Tony said.

In the meantime, I purchased my loom, and I will even tell the price because it figures significantly. $150.00, Canadian. The owner sent me photos of every square inch of the loom, which he bought long ago and never used. It is a 36” Fanny LeClerc. Anyone who looks up current retail will just shake their head in disbelief.

Because neither the seller nor I have a truck, he broke it down to fit in his wagon, and is bringing tools in case we need to disassemble more of it to fit in my car. He even sent me the link to assembly instructions; I think he doesn’t believe I wove on the same loom for twenty years. Without metric tools to make repairs.

I digress. I bought the loom three weeks ago; the seller took the listing off Kijiji and held it without payment, and now has disassembled it for me. Further, he is driving a hundred miles to a hockey match with his son and will meet me, essentially on the other side of the Peace Bridge.

I went to the bank and bought two one hundred Canadian bills to give him. The purchase took twenty minutes of paperwork, and not all because the teller had to consult her supervisor, who also read every line on the computer screen before touching a key. It was the paperwork! I could take thousands from the ATM machine in less than a minute, with no questions asked. If I had thousands. 

I was to return today, after noon, to pick up the money.

The receipt of what amounts to pocket money took another twenty minutes. Temper would not facilitate the transaction, so I settled for putting my forehead on the counter, in clear view of an extra person, who I hope was a regional supervisor. I looked up only to sign paper work and retrieve my driver’s license, which had to be copied.

The delay was frustrating because I also needed to drop my car at the garage for new tires, which I need before winter in any event, and am a good enough citizen to think ahead and not blow out a tire on our interstate or, heaven help me, the Queen Elizabeth Way.

Now baby has new shoes, Tony and Hazel will be home in the morning; the loom on Sunday. I have no idea how fast the post office moves a little knife for three quid postage.

Current events

Another sign eating weed,

and a golf cart.

Looking down one of the irregular sandstone sidewalks in town.

Too bad it was trash day.

Laura started after school art lessons.

We "practiced" her ten minute walk from school

before the first lesson,

But of course Grandma showed up the very first time,

to be sure.

In future I won't embarrass her,

and only pick her up after class.

And Hazel and Tony are here for a two week visit.

We certainly need a bigger British flag!

Freeze warning

Over the weekend we had a cookout featuring shish kebob, our traditional Memorial Day fare.  We held it in honor of Hazel and Tony, who will be leaving this week. I think we counted seventeen in the house, including my friend Linda, who’s generally up for a picnic.  The operative phrase is in the house. In spite of the new picnic table on the deck it was not warm enough for anyone to go outside.  Even the children worked up minimum enthusiasm for throwing a football in the late afternoon sunshine.

Linda produced her new phone to get some advice.  Rather like hiring on at a job and everyone else is an “old employee,” even if they started the day before.  Not even a year ago I was a flip phoner, just like her.  But I’ve had a smart phone for six or seven months, have six apps that I use regularly out on the home screen, and am the very local expert.  If a grandchild showed me how, I’m pretty good.

Linda has a new phone too, with a slide out keyboard.  She bought it for a reason I don’t recall plus it fits in her pocket holster.  She only makes and receives calls on it; no plan upgrade.  No extra charge because it was the phone that fit the holster.

Later this week I’m going to Indianapolis with her, her roadie for the Broad Ripple Art Fair.  A couple of years ago a severe storm with high winds tore right through the grounds and did severe damage to many artists’ work.  There was no warning except one volunteer who ran through the show shouting “Take cover.”

This year the Indianapolis Museum of Art has offered to send weather tweets to any artist who signs up to receive them.  In case you wonder where this story is headed, we’re on the way.  Linda wanted to know how to tweet.  There was a general consensus her phone could tweet, but nothing was tweet ready, including her plan. Then there is the whole learning curve business.  We seventy year olds take a little longer.

I said for her near future I would download Storm Shield, the weather app endorsed by the major local television station, to my phone.  I did that yesterday, read the directions, entered the local settings, put the phone back in my pocket.  I have to say I was a little disappointed to see I have to tell the app where I am.  Google maps and navigator always know where I am!  And, they were free. But, Thursday I will tell the app I’m in Indianapolis and we’re all set for the weekend.

My phone has several discreet tones to notify me.  A ring for calls, other notes for incoming texts, missed calls, appointments, that stuff.  Early this afternoon there was a new tone from my pocket and before I could retrieve the phone, a man’s voice:  “There is a freeze warning for this zone.  There is a freeze warning for this zone.”

So, I sent Hamilton to bring in the hanging flower basket tonight.  He brought it in Sunday night, too, before the app went into effect.  Local weather included a freeze warning.

 Picture

Starting with pancake breakfast

We did not set out to do so much in a day, it just happened.  We did plan on pancakes at the fire station this morning, and when that plan shifted from noon to nine in the morning the rest of the day just got longer.

After pancakes we (royal we) mulched the garden.  Then Jan and Hazel and Laura and I went shopping for a new picnic table for the back deck.  That had been slated for tomorrow and happened today.  Tomorrow Tom and Tony will surely assemble the new outfit.  At least one of them won’t rest until he knows what we bought.

Without further ado:

Some of the equipment the fire district put on display.  They move it all outdoors for pancake breakfast morning so the equipment garage becomes the dining hall.  On the right, the pumper.  Its cab, at least.  I forgot my camera and put Emily in charge of taking pictures with my phone.  On the left, the squad.  Personally, I would call it an ambulance.  It is the very one I rode in to the hospital when I had a stroke three years ago.

For the first time I remember a medi-vac helicopter came for the public to inspect.  Geoff told me they have been on the field the last three years; I guess I've just been missing it.  I was not about to walk on the very lumpy field to take a picture of Hamilton, Laura and Emily together so they passed the phone among themselves. Someone forgot to tell Hamilton the color scheme du jour.

Tony, Tom and my nephew Mark up close and personal inspecting the chopper.  Tom left, Tony right in the right hand picture.  Hazel calls them "the stomachs."  

Passed Geoff in the parking lot and got a hug.  I worked for the fire district for four years, through the construction of the new station garage.  My favorite:  construction accounting for a government entity.  Not.  

The first day I went into the station house, a building already on the site, construction was all around.  2x4's on the floor, marked up drawings on long tables, a to do list on a chalk board.  Item one on the list:  Fire Geoff. They're a pretty loose lot when they don't have to be serious and apparently firing Geoff seemed like a good idea that day.

At work back at the house.  Mark took pity on them after a dozen bags of mulch and unloaded the bags from the tractor.  My knees should be as young as Laura's knees! I am keeping an eye on the lettuce tower in the lower left picture and will soon have a report.

Hazel

My little corner vignette. I moved in one of my lavendar plants, added the pansy pot and pulled all the weeds from around the blarney stone and the indian.  Mulch compliments of my grandkids.

Finally.  Look at this young man's dirty feet.  A black and white with dirty feet.  I finally realized when we are outdoors he lays at the storm door with his front paws pushed as far as possible underneath.  Feeling the breeze?  He does not try to leave when we open the door, although we have to push him aside or try to step around.

Awaiting Hazel and Tony

Hazel and Tony are coming to visit next week.  They’ll be here nearly a month.  Hazel has visited several times since Bill’s death, but not since she and Tony married.  Not for want of trying.  Tony had some health setbacks shortly after he and Hazel married.  He’s finally cleared to travel.

None of us get any younger, either.  I wonder if Hazel’s hair is as white as Walt’s, my brother to whom she once was married.  It may still be black.  I’m getting excited.

We are out of beds at our house; they will be staying with her youngest, Mark.  Walt lives there, too.  Jan teased him she hoped Hazel could put up with him.  Walt retorted “Can she put up with me?”  We know which way it will be.

The traditional Memorial Day picnic, featuring shish kebob and lots of company will be held early, in honor of their visit.  That was Walt’s idea, resoundingly seconded by Hazel when Jan asked if Tony would enjoy it. 

 

Tony’s  two requests are to see a baseball game and go bowling. Tom and Mark will handle those details. Hazel will keep Tony busy, I’m sure. Hazel loves to shop.  She holds an international driver’s license and knows how to use it.

They arrive Tuesday afternoon and Hazel has us all lined up to go to her favorite smorgasbord restaurant for supper.  In spite of our recent troubles with air traffic controllers, I doubt Hazel’s plane will be late.