Ms. Fixit

That was me today.  After my morning chiropractor appointment I stopped at Home Depot for lamp guts and one of those tiny springs that helps your storm door shut when it's windy.  I got the lamp parts, no problem, but had to buy a whole new wind chain assembly (for $4.85, not a bank-breaker).  When I got home I decided to fix the door first so I got out the battery powered screwdriver and got to work.  Everything came off nicely but when I went to install the new stuff the screw holes didn't line up.  Arrrgh.  I glared at it for a few minutes then reinstalled the old one, adding the tiny spring part to the old assembly.  Works just fine.




Then I went to lunch with part of the St. Agnes Grade School Class of 1965.  I ordered pork sliders off the "Taste of Tailgating" menu.  When it came I had to stifle a laugh because the two little round buns side by side reminded me of a pair of boobs, with a side of fries.  It's hard to eat BBQ pulled pork when you're giggling, but I managed.





After lunch and another errand I came back to see if I couldn't fix one of the table lamps in the living room.  The harp was loose and the socket was loose too so if you bumped it just right the light bulb flopped over and the shade hung cock-eyed.  The cleaning lady was afraid to dust the lamp.  Something needed to be done.  I bought new everything but managed to use the threaded rod and wires already there, with the new socket and harp.  The harp's still a little wobbly but the socket seems solid.  Fingers crossed.



My other errand was to the Woodworker's Depot for dust masks.  I commented at lunch that I planned to find a mask to wear when I fly next week since there are corona virus patients in Chicago and I have a layover there, but good masks are hard to find right now.  Another of the diners suggested I try the woodworking store because they use masks and might not be out.  Score!  Even better, the clerk in the store is a non-practicing physician who said that the N95 masks I bought are the same as surgical masks.  Double score!  And they have a vent so my glasses won't fog up.  Worth every penny of the $15.


03 February--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

“What do you mean?” asked Archibald.

Cecilia waved her arms, encompassing the untidy desk.  “Well, if I were expecting a lover, I’d be sure to clean up the desk in preparation for his arrival.  A woman wants to look her best for the man she loves.  Look at all this junk!  She’s got stuff all over it.  And if everything on the desk is just as it was found when her body was discovered, there’s still a pad with her ideas and sketches on it in front of where I’d guess she was when she was murdered. Although I’d guess she pushed things forward on the desk when she died, right?” 

“Right,” answered Graybow. 

 “You’d think she’d tidy up in preparation for his arrival.” Looking around the room, she added, “And anyway where would they, umm, you know?  There’s no place I’ve seen in here that would be comfortable enough for a tryst.  Or maybe I’m just getting old.”  

Smiling slightly Graybow replied, “Yeah, that’s what we wondered too.  Maybe they had plans to go somewhere else.”       

Archibald volunteered, “When her husband found the body it was slumped over the desk, still in the chair.  She must have been killed instantly according to the doc, because there was very little blood.  Only a bit on the back of her neck.  None on the desk at all.”

Cecilia looked at the desk imagining the scene.  She pictured Tiffy slumped over, looking like she was asleep.  “Was she still holding something to write with?” 

Checking with Archibald and receiving a nod, Graybow replied, “No, but this pencil was nearby.  We figure it rolled out of her had when she died.”

 “Did Dirk say anything was stolen?” Cecilia asked. 

 “Not that he was aware of.  And according to the two women who work here, there’s nothing out of place or missing.”      

“What about that derelict I heard mentioned?  Was he any help?” 

“Yeah, some,” said Archibald, drawing Cecilia’s gaze to him.   “Edwards said he saw Marlene Brownloe leave at about 9:20 p.m. and then went back to rummaging out back.  He says he didn’t hear or see anything else until he heard Dirk Davis screaming into the phone about midnight.” 

“Edwards?  You mean Kenneth Edwards?” she asked, surprised that she knows yet another character in the drama.   “I know him.  I see him every once in a while, at the bookstore sorting through the $1 paperbacks.  I think he likes those complicated Tom Clancy adventure books.  He seems like a nice man, but I wonder what happened to get him in such a situation.  He seems educated and well-mannered.  And he’s always wearing such nicely shined shoes.”

 Graybow answered, “He got downsized out of his corporate security job a few years ago, had a business fail, and took up drinking as a hobby.  Lost his marriage, house, everything and just took to the streets.  Swears he’s working at that shelter downtown.  I’ll have to talk to that woman who runs the place.  What’s her name?  Teddy something?  See if she knows anything about him.”

“Allgood.  Her last name is Allgood.  She’s doing a really good job down there.  You might talk to her anyway.  She and Tiffy were good friends.  I think since high school.”  Cecilia had just drawn a breath to continue her questioning of Lt. Graybow when Det. Archibald cleared his throat.  He grasped Cecilia’s elbow and began steering her out of the office.  “You need me for anything else, Graybow?  I’d better get this little lady home.  It’s getting late.”

 Initially miffed at this high-handed tactic to remove her from the crime scene, Cecilia allowed Archibald to usher her to his car and take her home.  But her mind was racing with the things she’d seen and heard throughout the evening.  Sleep was long in coming.

In cool bird news, I was thrilled to see a Cardinal taking a bath this morning.  A Cardinal!  I rarely see them get a drink and don't think I've ever seen one bathing.  With a pair of sparrows, no less.  Cardinals are usually skittish to the max and fly away at the first flutter of another feather.  He must have felt extra dirty today.
--Barbara

Sunshine

The sun shone from sunrise to sunset today.  The temperature topped out at 48 degrees which felt like a benediction.  I rashly opened the patio door and turned the furnace off for an hour to let actual fresh air blow in.  It felt great.  Don't get excited, the clouds are supposed to roll back in through the day tomorrow and it's supposed to get to a high of 25 by Wednesday.  Winter, it's an adventure.



These two little sparrows were snuggled up in the leafless branches of the shrub this morning.  It's not the best focused photo because the camera couldn't decide what to focus on but I liked their little fluffy selves nestled in the dark red twigs.


I spent the afternoon with knitting friends and an old neighbor who raised her kids a couple doors down from us who, it turns out, grew up with a knitter I know.  It sure is a small world.  We went to the taproom for snacks and drinks and a couple hours of chat.  I foresee the taproom being a popular knitting gathering spot.





I knitted another tiny preemie hat.  These tiny hats feel like the right things to be knitting lately.  Anything more complex fuddles my brains.



 

After getting home I whipped up a batch of WW marinara sauce.  This is such an improvement over the old way of cooking down tomato juice.  You saute onions and garlic (I added a little bell pepper), then whir up a big can of plum tomatoes and juice, add that, along with salt, pepper, and sugar (I added pre-sauteed mushrooms and Italian herbs too. Might as well doctor it up, right?). I simmered it for half an hour to thicken it up a bit.  A batch makes eight zero-point, half-cup servings which freezes well and is just the right amount for a single lady.


02 February--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

Cecilia listened to the conversation but gradually her attention was drawn to the room.  She considered the pictures on the wall, the baskets of doodads, the design and floral books and catalogs.  She’d regularly bought flowers for her store from Tiffy, so she’d been in the main part of the boutique but never in the office.  Standing in the doorway she was aware of the smell of the flowers, good rich earth, and the faint nasty smell of death.  She shook her head and began to explore, hands behind her back so as not to touch anything.  As she looked at the scene, she got the impression that the room was divided into two sections, the business end and the personal end.  She started her tour at the business end. The shelves along the left-hand wall were crammed with catalogs for flowers, accessories, and plants and seeds, design books both floral and home, and untidy notebooks filled with sketches and ideas.  In the corner was a table covered with three cloths and surmounted with a nice arrangement of baskets on several levels containing swatches, more books, trims and ribbons, and other decorative things.  Next along the wall opposite the doorway was a client chair and Tiffy’s messy desk with its little brass lamp lit.  Behind the desk was a credenza covered with unfinished projects, more idea notebooks, personal photos, and more books and catalogs.  The desk chair was pushed back against the credenza.  A design magazine had fallen to the floor open to a page featuring shadow box frames containing botanical specimens.  The tile floor was covered with a beautiful faded Oriental rug that picked up the pale green of the room.  The walls were a myriad of framed prints, twig wreaths and swaths that Cecilia suspected were chosen more for their sales appeal than as actual decorations of someone’s personal space. 

By now she felt more comfortable in the room, realizing that it wasn’t covered in blood, relieved that Archibald was telling the truth at dinner.  She tuned back into the conversation to hear Archibald and Graybow, standing frowning over the desk, still discussing the possibility that Tiffy was awaiting a lover.

“I don’t see anything with a name or any indication that Mrs. Davis was waiting for anyone else.  We’ve looked at everything on top of and in the desk.”

“Do you think she’d be careless enough to leave evidence of a lover where anyone could find it?”

 Looking at the desk, Cecilia interrupted, “She wasn’t waiting for a lover.”  The men were startled at her interruption.  They’d forgotten her presence.  “Look at the mess of empty soda cans and candy wrappers!  Any woman worth her salt would clean up before a lover arrived.  This looks like the desk of a woman planning to get some work done.” 

Yesterday's lunch salad was so good I replicated it for supper tonight.  I think I have enough ingredients for one more big bowl full.  So tasty and so unlike me.  I did add cheese which is definitely like me, though.
--Barbara

Salad Day

 
 
The sun really did come out today.  For a while anyway.  Look at that shadow.





I was so pleased to see it that I made myself a masterpiece of a salad with what I had on hand.  I piled up romaine, baby spinach, a radish, half a baby cuke, carrot shreds, red bell pepper strips, teriyaki baked tofu, string cheese, and croutons, all dressed with light honey mustard dressing.  All that for a mere 8 WWblue points.  Yum.




While waiting for the rent to arrive I cast on another preemie hat, this one called Minie (as in Eenie, Meenie, Minie, Moe) with the end of a skein of the yarn I use for preemie hats.  When I finished it there was all of 2 yards of yarn left.  Whew.  This hat is so tiny it's inconceivable that a human baby could wear it.  A lemon fits in it.  That's small and it's not the smallest one I make.



01 February--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

It was a warm June Wednesday evening in Ashville.  The stars were shining, and the moon was bright as Detective Archibald’s car pulled in and parked in front of the darkened floral boutique.  There’s another car in the lot.  It was unoccupied.  There’s crime scene tape across the door into the boutique.  The detective got out of the car and went around to open the door for his companion.  Cecilia approached Blossoms with trepidation.  Even though Archibald told her about the scene over dinner, she couldn’t get the lurid rumors of decapitation, blood, and destruction out of her mind.  As they entered the boutique, she ran the “facts” she knew through her mind to reassure herself.  Archibald held the door for her.  The boutique was dimly lit and cool.  She heard the flower cooler compressors and the scuffling of feet from somewhere in the back.  Archibald took her arm and propelled her toward the back where the office was located.  Feet dragging, she crossed the tile floor toward the lighted office door on the left. 

Pausing in the doorway, Cecilia saw Lieutenant Graybow, Archibald’s partner, hands in pockets, studying the things on the top of the desk.  He looked up, frowning, at their arrival.  “Sorry to interrupt your date, Detective, but I wanted to ask you to look at this appointment book again.  The tech crew swears they left it just where it was when they got here.  See?  There’s no notation after Marlene Brownloe’s name for the night of the murder.” 

Cecilia reluctantly looked at the desk, expecting to see blood.  Relief flooded her when she saw it was empty of gore. 

Archibald stepped toward the desk, breaking the connection with Cecilia.   “Yeah, that’s what I saw that night too.  What are you driving at?”

“I was wondering if we might be able to find some evidence of a lover or a date to give us something to go on.”  They began to methodically examine the contents of the surface of the desk.   

I folded two full baskets of laundry today and put all of it away.  My sock and underwear drawers are extra full, over full even.  This is the first time in I don't know how long that essentially all of my clothes are clean.  I have a lot of socks.
--Barbara