Carrying On The Tradition

I just realized that Monday was laundry day for my Grandma A.  My most vivid memory is of her wringer washer in the basement.  It was a marvelous machine and I ached to be allowed to feed wet clothes into the wringers but never was.  "Too dangerous," Grandma said.  I suppose she was right but it sure looked cool when the stuff came out all flattened from the sudsy water and eased into the rinse water or came out of the rinse water and into a bushel basket to be carried outside to hang on the clotheslines.  I did laundry today but the new-fashioned way with a washer and dryer, not with a wringer washer and I didn't hang things on the line.

The fattest squirrel is the one that comes to the suet pellet feeder every couple days.  It fends off any interlopers with a threatening grunt and keeps right on nibbling.  I don't know how it gets enough of a taste to make it worthwhile because the holes in the mesh are so small, meant for a bird's beak not a squirrel's teeth, but he/she manages.

Once the laundry was done, I'd written the prompt, and looked ahead in the art assignment book, I sat down to knit.  I finished the ribbing and got almost half of the hat rounds knitted.  I realized that if I want to have hat to knit on at Wednesday evening's zoom I need to slow down or not knit tomorrow.  I can do that.  I'll start another preemie hat and knit on it instead.

 

11 January--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

            We passed a quiet Sunday, sleeping late, dawdling over breakfast, and talking.  Iggy made a picnic of the chicken salad left from the day before that we took down to his narrow strip of beach.  He had a faded beach umbrella that he pushed into the sand so we could sit in the shade.

            After lunch I snorkeled in the shallows while he fished from the rocks.  He caught a trio of yellow-tail snappers he said we could stuff and grill for supper.  I was glad he caught those fish; there are large schools of them that cross the reef like ribbons trailing in the wind.  I would have felt sorry if he'd caught one of the brightly colored parrot fish.  I'm sure they taste great but suspect I'd have a hard time eating one with its sightless eye staring at me reproachfully from my plate.

            By the time I got out of the water the sun was blazing so after Iggy cleaned the fish and tucked them into the refrigerator, we retreated to the cool dimness of the house for a short siesta.

            When we woke up clouds were gathering in the west and sliding over the island like a lid over a kettle.  Iggy kept an eye on the weather as he chopped vegetables to stuff the fish.  I made a salad with greens and vegetables from his little garden plot.  I silently thanked Elizabeth, my daughter-in-law, for teaching me how to make a simple vinaigrette dressing with ingredients on hand.  I was happy to find a jar of stone-ground mustard in Iggy's fridge behind a can of beer.  Of course I could have made dressing without mustard but I'm a fan and think it balances out any lingering sweetness from the pinch of sugar I always add.

            The rain held off long enough for Iggy to grill the fish over charcoal but as soon as he stepped in the door it began to pour.

            "Oh damn," I said, "I was hoping we could go down to the beach to watch the sun set."

            He looked out the window to the west and said, "The storm might pass in time."

            It was a lovely supper.  The fish was cooked to perfection and I enjoyed every bite although I wasn't excited to find my entree staring at me when Iggy set the plate down in front of me.  I moved a leaf from my salad over to cover its eye and felt better.

            As I finished drying the last dish that Iggy handed me I noticed a shaft of sunlight slash across the floor from the front of the house.  I looked out to see a clear horizon.  "You were right," I said, kissing his cheek, "the storm clouds passed in time for us to go watch the sun set." I folded the dish towel over the bar and said, "Let's go.  Maybe we'll see the green flash."

            "There is no such thing."  He pulled a vinyl tablecloth out of the back closet where the picnic hamper lived so we could sit on the wet sand.

            "Yes, there is," I said. "I saw it once in Bonaire when we went on a sunset cruise."

            He snorted.  "Was there liquor available?"

            "Well, yes, there was but..."

            He tugged my hand to follow him out the front door.  "Then I am certain that your green flash came from the bottom of a cocktail glass.  You do not have a head for spirits, Rose, you know you do not.  If you had a drink in your hand you probably saw little green men too."  He started to laugh.

            I said, "I did not" and lightly swatted his shoulder.

            He kept laughing and I had to laugh too.  We held hands climbing down the rock stairs to the beach, they were wet with rain and a bit slippery.  The sun was nearing the horizon as we spread out the vinyl cloth and sat down to watch the day end.

            I drew my knees up, wrapped my arms around them, and rested my chin on my knees.  After a few minutes he put his arm over my shoulder.  "What are you thinking about?"

            I shrugged.  "Oh, I'm worried that Calvin won't get a toilet installed fast enough for us to get back to work tomorrow and that Gerald LeMoinette will stay off- island with his padlock key just to spite us."

            His hand rubbed circles on my back.  "He would not do that.  He knows that if he does that his boss would hear and reprimand him."  He leaned close to my shoulder.  "What else?"

            I nearly blurted out that his best friend had propositioned me, the same man I had to rely on to get my hotel renovation back on track, but I shook my head.  "Just a little discouraged, that's all."  I leaned into him, glad to have his strong arm to hold me.

Today's toss was a box of incandescent light bulbs.  I use LEDs so won't be needing a bunch of old fashioned light bulbs but someone will use them.

It was too chilly in the basement to spend much time down there searching for things to toss.  I spied a couple items that I can get rid of but need to dig deeper.  One of these days.

I had the first portion of the Salisbury Steak I made last week tonight for supper and it was just as tasty as it smelled while I prepared it.  I never thought that a hamburger steak with gravy made from a can of soup would have me licking my lips and saying "mmm" but it did.  I predict that this will be the Monday night supper for the next five weeks and this recipe will stay in the rotation for a good long time.  Yum.

--Barbara