30 September 2020
I now have a month of posts on the topics of pandemics, tendons and renovations. I guess that’s appropriate since I wrote a bunch of checks today and wrote 30 October instead of 30 September. Subconsciously, I must want to get October over with and have the election over and done.
Speaking of the election, I checked the Supervisor of Elections’ website for Broward and my mail-in ballot was received and tallied as of today. Considering I sent it in on 27 September, that’s pretty efficient.
Also speaking of the election, I did not watch the debate last night. I figured it for a pissing contest and apparently I was correct. Friends were texting one another with their comments during the debate and as one commentator said on the air “It was a total shit show.” Wonder what the FCC will do about that?
I also got a break from cabinet installation today. The last two days took a toll on me. I did run one errand but otherwise stayed in my bedroom or the computer room with the door closed. The installers were sometimes wearing their masks and sometimes not.
In theory they’ll be back tomorrow and Friday and hopefully finish the installation on Friday – except we are still missing two key pieces – one glass door for the upper center cabinet and the spice rack pull-out by the stove. I’ve also noticed they need to repaint where the upper right cabinet comes in contact with the wall.
Since I had a break from the installation, I managed a 2 mile walk, my yoga stretches and 1/2 of my swim routine. I usually try to do 40 minutes in the pool but only did 20 today. I’ll need to work my way back to 40 minutes again. I’ve decided that come hell or high water I’ll continue my exercises regardless of the installation. Otherwise, I get mopey.
Again with the downpour today and again with twinges to my tendon. The monsoon season is not over yet. My tendon is getting to be a better weather forecaster than the National Weather Service.
Again with the 3 am wide awake. I read a little, tried to go back to sleep but finally got up around 5:30.
Years ago when I lived in a garage apartment on Funston Street in Hollywood, Florida, I waked to a guy standing over me going through my wallet. I shouted at him and he pointed something at me and said “I shoot you!” three times. I admit to changing my attitude quickly at that point. That was 2 am. For years, I would wake at 2 am and eventually get back to sleep. Looks like I changed over for day light savings time. I wonder if on November 1st, I’ll start waking at 2 am again?
I’ve been trying new vegetarian dishes during the pandemic and one of my favorites is Lebanese green beans with cardamon, coriander, cinnamon, cumin, and nutmeg. You add a couple of diced shallots and I used diced tomatoes and the reserved juice.
I cooked that for tonight and have added Harissa potatoes. You basically cube the potatoes in one inch pieces and coat them with olive oil and bake for 50 minutes, stirring once about half way. Then you add one more tablespoon of olive oil to a pan along with 5 tablespoons Harissa and coat the potatoes, rebake for another 10 minutes and then add back to the bowl and re-coat, salt and pepper and serve.
Something seems to be working because I’m again down 10 pounds.
My cousin Jimmie sent me a photo today of her “wedding” picture at 5 years old. Very cute. I’m not sure this was the circumstance I’m about to relate but her Dad, my Great Uncle James, married us one time with cigar bands. He owned the Shell station in town and they, like many places back then, sold everything, including cigars. He would sometimes chew on one. I don’t think I ever saw Uncle James smoke one. Anyway, he would slip off the cigar band and typically throw them away.
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Another thing they sold at the Shell station was hoop cheese. It was a huge wheel of cheese – probably not as big as I remember – but absolutely delicious. Aunt Mabel would often cut off a piece for Jimmie and me and she’d open up some saltine crackers and we could make a meal off that after school. Towards the end of the wheel, it wasn’t very good but if the wheel was new, it was almost gooey. I assume it was either American or cheddar.
I’m so old that I remember when the only soap available was either the lye soap my paternal grandmother made or Ivory bar soap. Sliced bread was rather unique also. Most people made their own bread. I remember when Wonder bread came on the market in our area of Mississippi and to this day, there are certain things that just taste better on Wonder bread.
Aunt Mabel often ran the Shell station and Jimmie and I would head there after school. We’d play in the back part of the station that was mostly storage but every so often we’d approach Aunt Mabel with pleading eyes. Invariably, she gave in and treated us to a candy bar (five cents and bigger than they are today).
Jimmie and I have had long conversations about how we pretty much survived on cokes (5 cents) and potato chips and candy bars. Let’s just say we didn’t have a real balanced diet. One year, Coca Cola ran a contest where you could obtain a map of the 48 states. They printed a state on the underside of the bottle cap. If you collected all 48 states’ bottle caps, they gave you a case of coke. Let’s just say this was not the most intelligent decision the company made. I think Jimmie and I both got a couple of free cases off the company.
Often, we would go behind the Shell station where there was a huge hill leading down to the back of the station. We would cut vines (hopefully not poison ivy) and swing like Tarzan and Jane through the terrain. After you cut a vine at the bottom, the vine dies. Sometimes, when you were swinging out over the terrain, the vine gave up the ghost and would pull out from the tree canopy and we got a rude landing.
A lot of my life is tied up with Jimmie, her sisters Jo and Jean, Aunt Mabel and Uncle James. Truth be told, most of my “good times” were with them and I suspect I may not have survived my childhood without their support.
Aunt Mabel taught us how to play canasta and bridge. As fairly young kids (9th or 10th grade) we’d stay up until two or three in the morning playing cards. Aunt Mabel had an old card table that was rickety. Either she or Uncle James had put old car tags in the corner of the card table to give it some stability. Invariably, Jimmie or I would get too excited during the card game and we’d hit the table with our knees and a card tag would come crashing to the floor. It certainly would get your attention and liven up the game.
What I really appreciate about Aunt Mabel was she would not take any guff from me. She was quick to call me down if I exhibited any bad behavior or any attitude. A couple of times she would end the card games to show us who was boss. Most of the times it was Jimmie, me and Aunt Mabel. When we played bridge, we always played with a dummy (three handed bridge where whoever wins the bid gets to also play the “dummy” hand). And have you ever played canasta with four decks?
The talk ranged from literature, music, history to politics. I probably learned more playing canasta and bridge with Jimmie and Aunt Mabel than I did in any classroom. I remember very intense discussions and arguments. I learned how to defend a view point and also listen to an opposing one.
Perhaps Trump and Biden need to learn to play canasta and three handed bridge with someone like Aunt Mabel who won’t put up with their guff.
Stay tuned and stay safe!
Actually, I remember getting married to you with Daddy’s cigar rings many, many times over several years. The wedding/birthday party only occurred once though. I do remember swinging from the vines like Tarzan and Jane. We were good enough to go from one tree and catch another tree branch with our knees. We had such fun and were so agile then. Since we rarely had snow, we used cardboard boxes to sled downhill on the carpet of pine needles in the adjacent woods. As for playing cards, those license plates holding up the card tables were really hazardous when we got too rambunctious. They fell down very frequently. I remember playing cards until we heard the train whistle about 2 AM and agreeing to play “just one more hand.” Several hands later, when the next train whistle blew, an hour or more later we would realize how late it was and maybe reluctantly stop playing if we couldn’t talk Mother into another game. I didn’t realize how much she taught us.