dumpster, the edge of which was about chin-height on me. Hmm. DS and I got it out of the van and rolled it over. We picked a spot where we thought we could get it up and over without it catching on a lip of the dumpster. He grabbed the back, I grabbed the front and we lifted with our legs like good children. Unfortunately the piece I was holding turned out to be a removable piece so it came off and the dishwasher slid down me, bonking my cheekbone, knocking off (but not breaking) my glasses, giving me a scrape on my chin, and drawing blood as it slid down my thumb. OUCH. I didn't cry. He dug out the first aid kit and bandaged my thumb to contain the bleeding and then we got serious about getting the d***ed thing in there. No grubby dumpster or broken dishwasher was going to beat us. We got it. Good thing he's strong and smart. I think he did most of the lifting and thinking, I steadied and pushed. Thanks,
I am looking at the next week as an endless vista of opportunity for relaxation and enjoyable crafting. Hopefully I won't goof off too much and leave myself disappointed in myself next Sunday. While Durwood sleeps or watches the Packers today I plan to do some writing so that I'll be free of commitment for the week, well, except for needing to make stuff for Thanksgiving and go eat in Shawano on Thursday. Oh, and we're meeting friends for a burger on Wednesday night, but that'll be relaxing and enjoyable too. I stayed up til midnight last night finishing that cardigan I've been knitting off and on (mostly off) since June 2009. Now all that's left is to weave in 3 yarn tails, soak it in a cool bath, and pat it out to dry; those things I can do this afternoon easy, and then my decks will be cleared.
I made turkey chili yesterday afternoon and put it into the crockpot on Low. Three hours later I realized that I could lift the lid with my bare hand and even after stirring it I could leave my finger in it without getting burned (and I'm not a stoic about hot stuff), but the countertop under it was too hot to leave my hand on. There was something wrong, don't you think? So I scooped it out
into a Dutch oven to heat it up on the stove (the turkey was pre-cooked so there was no danger of food poisoning) so we could eat supper before 8 o'clock. We just made it. It was pretty good chili, tasty but not too spicy, in fact we both shook more chili powder into it, served with a dollop of plain Greek yogurt (I love the stuff) and some shredded cheddar. Guess Durwood needs to check the ads in today's paper to see who has crockpots on sale. I put the old one into the trash already.
November 24--Flemish, The Triumph of Fame. They were all looking at him as if he had wings. Their cow-like adoration made me uncomfortable. He was charming, there was no denying that, but I saw a certain calculation lurking in his eyes and kept my distance. It wasn't easy because his voice echoing through the small church threatened to pull me in. I kept a tight hold on my hymnal and kept both feet firmly in place. I was not going to spring up with a religious shout and glide up to the altar rail like the women around me. It seemed like men were less susceptible to his charm because only a few of them stood in the crowd at the front of the pulpit where he stood swaying in his own sort of trance.
Allrighty then, I'm off to fill all the birdfeeders and then get to writing. Stay warm!