Icy & Snowy

This morning  when I opened the patio door drapes I saw a little wedge of ice in the birdbath. It did not surprise me because we've had frosty mornings  and ice was bound to happen sooner or later.  I was glad that I ran my errands early this morning because...

... in the afternoon, it snowed.  Not a lot but enough to be annoying.  I know that it's the middle of November and I know that I live in Wisconsin but I was not psychologically ready for snow today.  Heck, it was sunny this morning, I had to wear sunglasses when I drove to Goodwill to drop off the tosses but it managed to pucker up and snow by the middle of the afternoon.  Not enough to cover everything but enough to be demoralizing.

The recipe of the day and the last one in this Investment Cooking bout was Chicken Breasts Pierre.  You dredge chicken breasts in flour, brown them in butter (yum), then make a sauce with diced tomatoes with garlic and basil, with Worcestershire sauce and ground mustard and celery seed, then you simmer the breasts in there until they're done, about 40 minutes.  I made another pot of brown rice so each serving is complete with rice.  Whew.  That means that I have a full six weeks of suppers in the freezer with a few extra meatloaves.  This is the only reason that I have been successful losing almost 50 pounds in the last 14 months.  If I had to cook every day I know that I would reliably be eating crap and ice cream straight out of the carton.

16 November--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

             The auto parts store owner had to rummage around in the back to find a can of WD-40.  I asked him to make sure that the can would spray before I bought it.  I didn't want to have to go off-island for some.  Since I was close to Amy's bakery I dashed in for a loaf of bread.  Her bread was so good and so fresh, I decided to ask her about getting bread for my B&B when the time came.  School was out so the roadsides were full of children on their way home.  I kept an eye out but didn't see any of the children that lived in Sandy Ground, none that I recognized anyway.  I made a sandwich and ate it while I walked down to the Seaview. 

            The guys had cleared all the furniture out of the bedroom so nothing was in there except that intriguing rusty lock face on the floor.  "Silas?" I called.  "Edward?"

             I heard a voice from under the floor.  "Here."

             I went outside to see Silas' feet sticking out from under the back porch.  "What are you doing?  I thought you weren't going under there with the mean lizards and big spiders."  I looked around.  "And where's Edward?" 

            Another voice came from under the building.  "Here."

            I crouched down to try to see under there but the sunshine was too bright.  "What are you two doing?  It must be dark as night under there." 

            Silas' feet started jiggling back and forth and soon his jeans-clad legs emerged followed by his torso and head.  Edward came out head-first and grinning. 

            "We got it," Edward said, standing and holding up a filthy pillowcase.  He stretched it out to me.  I couldn't believe it. 

            "This is from the compartment under the floor?" 

            They nodded.  Silas spoke. "While you were gone I thought about what might be in there and you saying that you thought dripping lubricant in there might be bad.  So, we got an old sheet to lay on, took the hammer and screwdriver along, and got to work." 

            "No spiders and lizards?" 

            He shook his head.  "Not many. I sent Edward in first," he said with a grin.

            Edward shoved his shoulder and snorted. "I chase away all the bugs for Silas," he said nodding and smiling. "Chase them away for big, brave Silas."

            Then it was Silas' turn to shove Edward's shoulder. 

            My patience ran out. "So, what did you find?" 

            "Papers," they said together.

            "Let's look," I said and took the pillowcase into the hotel.  The only place we had a flat surface was the counter in the lobby so that's where we ended up.  My hands shook as I reached in, grasped the thin pile of papers, and drew them out into the light, maybe for the first time in decades.  I set them on the counter and all three of us leaned in to see.  Our heads banged together, each of us said "ouch" and rubbed a spot on our foreheads. 

            "Patience," I said and turned the first paper over.  It was a letter from Scotiabank dated 1957 that said they were willing to lend Mr. Abram Reynolds three-thousand pounds to build a hotel on Sandy Ground.  I looked up and grinned. "This must be the person who built the Seaview, Abram Reynolds. Do you recognize the name?" 

            They shook their heads.  Silas said, "Maybe Dad or Auntie Anne would know the name. I never heard it and there are no Reynolds' on the island that I know." 

            "Let's see what else is in here." 

            The rest of the papers were personal letters wrapped in a ribbon, a couple of newspaper clippings talking about the new fishing hotel on the beach in Sandy Ground, Road Bay. 

            "Look at this," I held the paper out.  "This says Ernest Hemmingway came here to fish."

            "Who is that?" asked Edward.

            "He's an American author who was a big fisherman and hunter." I turned the clipping over to see what else it said.  "It makes sense that he'd come here.  I know he fished off Bimini a lot and that isn't so far away. I wonder if we could find a picture." 

            There were church bulletins and old greeting cards, an insurance bill, and, near the bottom of the pile, a passbook from Scotiabank.  A look inside showed years of savings and withdrawals.  I handed it to Silas. "I wonder if the account was ever closed. The last entry is in 1967; that's over fifty years ago.  I'll stop in the next time I'm downtown." 

            Edward looked sadly at the papers spread over the counter.  "No treasure."  His shoulders slumped and he walked away. 

            Silas called him back and handed him the WD-40. "Here, Edward, spray some of this in the lock. Maybe we can get it open after all." 

            I looked at them. "Did you have to break the box to get at the papers?" 

            Silas shook his head.  "No.  All we had to do was pry off the bottom board. The safe box is between floor joists so all they had to add was a bottom and ends." 

            "No mouse nests?" I had seen evidence of nibbling on a few of the papers. 

            "Yes, there was a nest of chewed paper that fell out when we pulled off the board."

            I smiled at him.  "Thank you for going under there. I was surprised that you did." 

            He flapped his hand.  "I lost patience."  He went off to help Edward haul broken shelves out of the kitchen.  He said, "Boards are piling up, Mrs. Rose.  Someone needs to get her hammer busy." 

            I groaned, tucked the papers back into their pillowcase, and went out back to pull nails--and not bend them on purpose.

Instead of tossing something today I drove to Goodwill and donated the pile of stuff that I had in the car.

Today wasn't a great  writing day. Just when I think I'm over the hump in my quest to get my writing brain revved up again, I have a day like today when I struggle to get a hundred words on the page.  It's not fair.  And not only that but my printer is on the blink and I might need a new one and the space bar on my laptop doesn't always work when I hit it.  Arrrgh.  Frustration much?

--Barbara