Quiet Sunday

Today was a quiet day.  I did some laundry (I'm getting low on socks) and went downstairs to dig out the Nativity set.  I decided that I'm not going to put the tree up this year but I'd put out the creche.  My favorite is the little donkey.  I named it Dad, because when they were making the sets Mom and Dad would sit at the kitchen table scraping off the mold marks.  Dad always did the donkey so that when he was finished he could say, "I've finally got my a$$ clean!"  He cracked himself up.  He cracked me up too.

Instead of a tree I set the lighted present on the table in front of the window and plugged it in so at least I have some decoration visible from the street.  I should probably take down the fall door wreath and replace it with a Christmas version.

In the afternoon I went over to DS's to visit for an hour and to deliver the batch of finger Jello (aka Knox Blox) that LC requested.  It was very warmly received.

When I got home I started Cast Sock #7 and got to work while the laundry was flopping around downstairs.  I think that this is the last one I'll be able to make with this yarn.  I'll have enough to finish this one but probably not enough to make another.

 

 

06 December--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

I had just gotten the last life jacket into the dumpster when Edward came out of the kitchen.           

“Look what we found, Mrs. Rose,” he said.

“What did you find?” 

His smile stretched from ear to ear. “It a box with a lock.  You have any extra keys on that big ring in your hand?” 

I looked down at the keyring in my hand and then back up at him.  I was sure that my smile was as wide as his.  “I do.  I have two more old skeleton keys that I can’t find keyholes for.  Let’s see if you’ve found one for me.” 

Edward set the box on top of my nail-pulling bench, put his hands on his hips, and beamed at me. 

I licked my lips and sorted out the two keys without tape on them.  The first one I tried wouldn’t turn.  Edward’s smile dimmed a bit but I held up the second skeleton key and fitted it into the lock.  That one slid in place like it was home and turned without a hitch. 

“Got it,” I said, looking up at Edward’s shining face.  “You found the box, Edward, so why don’t you open it?” 

He looked at me and said, “Are you sure, Mrs. Rose?” 

“I’m sure.  Go on.” 

He rubbed his hands together and carefully lifted the wooden lid.  The box was empty except for a piece of wood separating it into two sections.  “Empty,” Edward said, sounding like he would start to cry. 

I looked at the box carefully.  It was beautifully dovetailed with handmade hinges and that old lock.  “Don’t be disappointed,” I told him, “I think that this is a real antique called a sugar safe.” 

He shook his head. “A sugar safe? What that for?” 

I rubbed my hand across the old finish.  “In colonial times sugar was very expensive so people kept it in locked boxes like this so that no one got into the sugar but the mistress of the house.  She’d keep the key on her chatelaine, a kind of key chain she wore around her waist.”  I could feel tears well in my eyes.  I reached over and hugged him.  “Thank you, Edward, for finding this treasure.  I’m glad that you work for me.” 

He patted my back and said, “You welcome, Mrs. Rose, I am glad I work here too.”  Then he turned and went back inside.

That left just one skeleton key unidentified.  I made sure to tell all of the workers to keep an eye out for that last keyhole.

 

            The rest of the week went smoothly.  Iggy worked wiring the kitchen, Mr. Gomez wrapped up clearing all the items in the cargo container, Silas and Edward hammered and sawed from early morning until just before sunset to enclose the walls, floors, and ceilings, and over it all pulsed the music from Luke and Stanley's blaring rooftop radio like Technicolor rain.

            In the very back of the cargo container I had packed my beloved sewing machine and a huge Rubbermaid tote filled with bolts of white cotton polyester fabric and one bolt each of the five accent colors I had chosen:  salmon, turquoise, lilac, sea green, and butter yellow.  Once Iggy had the lobby and sitting room wired and Silas and Edward had replaced all of the wallboard and plywood flooring, I set my sewing machine up in there and got to work.  I had envisioned billowing white drapes at the windows and French doors but couldn't afford to purchase ready-made ones.  I had an old Necchi sewing machine with no fancy stitches beyond zigzag and buttonholes which would be perfect for the utilitarian, and mostly rectangular, sewing I intended to do.

            Rather than spend a lot of money on metal curtain rods that would rust and bend I bought a pair of brackets that had a groove on top for resting a wooden curtain pole.  I had shown the brackets to Silas and he put Edward to work tracing more on one-by-six planks and then cutting them out with the jigsaw I had also brought.  I intended to leave the wood raw so that it would age to a soft gray but Iggy told me that what would happen was the wood would absorb salt and moisture from the air, the salt making it absorb even more, and pretty soon no matter how I made the curtains or how smoothly Edward sanded the rods, the fabric would stick instead of slip.  So he bought some oil from the ship's chandlers down the beach; he called it Tung oil and said the Chinese had been using it on their boats for centuries and that it would make the wood tough and water resistant for years to come.

            "If that works like you say it will," I said, "I love it."  Without thinking I put an arm around his neck, pulled him to me, and kissed his cheek.  "And I'm very glad that we are building our dream together."

Today's toss was a small trunk I used to keep the VHS tapes in.  Since I got them transferred to DVDs last year I don't need to keep it.

I didn't write today.  Except now.  I guess this counts.

--Barbara