Steven Harper's Blog, page 46
May 19, 2020
Recipe Lies
I love reading recipes. I love reading the way they lie.
"15-Minute Recipes for a Lazy Supper" boasts one cooking headline I just saw. Lies, lies, lies!
I've never in my life managed to cook a 15-minute recipe in 15 minutes. This is because these recipes always leave out:
--prep time (gathering, washing, chopping, etc.)--heating time (the time it takes for the stove to heat the pan or for the oven to pre-heat or the pasta water to boil)--shopping time (because these recipes invariably list ingredients the average person doesn't keep on hand, like pancetta, gyoza, scallops, or sun-dried tomatoes
All these add considerable time to any recipe. The first two will easily triple the time. Add in the fact that cooking a recipe for the first time always goes slower, and a 15-minute recipe easily takes an hour or more.
I just came across a 15-minute recipe for peanut noodles that listed in its ingredients "one pound spaghetti noodles, boiled and cooled." Really? Because I just happen to have a pound of boiled, cooled noodles on hand at all times! A 15-minute recipe for pork fried rice calls for a very hot pan and bunch of cooked rice, both of which take a fair amount of time to prepare. (I know fried rice was invented as a way to use up leftover cooked rice, but this recipe doesn't make note of that, and it's the very last ingredient on the recipe list instead of the first, and needs a "use up that extra rice" note.)
My favorite of these recipes calls for 1 pound of raw shrimp, peeled a deveined (because THAT doesn't take an hour) and 1/2 cup julienned fresh basil (because I keep fresh basil right on hand, and prepping it julienne takes no time at all).
Then this particular headline called the recipes "lazy." Because deveining, julienning, pasta-ing, and rice-making are "lazy" kitchen activities on par with spreading peanut butter on a stale roll.
15 minutes. Lies, lies, lies!
comments
"15-Minute Recipes for a Lazy Supper" boasts one cooking headline I just saw. Lies, lies, lies!
I've never in my life managed to cook a 15-minute recipe in 15 minutes. This is because these recipes always leave out:
--prep time (gathering, washing, chopping, etc.)--heating time (the time it takes for the stove to heat the pan or for the oven to pre-heat or the pasta water to boil)--shopping time (because these recipes invariably list ingredients the average person doesn't keep on hand, like pancetta, gyoza, scallops, or sun-dried tomatoes
All these add considerable time to any recipe. The first two will easily triple the time. Add in the fact that cooking a recipe for the first time always goes slower, and a 15-minute recipe easily takes an hour or more.
I just came across a 15-minute recipe for peanut noodles that listed in its ingredients "one pound spaghetti noodles, boiled and cooled." Really? Because I just happen to have a pound of boiled, cooled noodles on hand at all times! A 15-minute recipe for pork fried rice calls for a very hot pan and bunch of cooked rice, both of which take a fair amount of time to prepare. (I know fried rice was invented as a way to use up leftover cooked rice, but this recipe doesn't make note of that, and it's the very last ingredient on the recipe list instead of the first, and needs a "use up that extra rice" note.)
My favorite of these recipes calls for 1 pound of raw shrimp, peeled a deveined (because THAT doesn't take an hour) and 1/2 cup julienned fresh basil (because I keep fresh basil right on hand, and prepping it julienne takes no time at all).
Then this particular headline called the recipes "lazy." Because deveining, julienning, pasta-ing, and rice-making are "lazy" kitchen activities on par with spreading peanut butter on a stale roll.
15 minutes. Lies, lies, lies!
comments
May 16, 2020
The Plague Diaries: Hunting a Unicorn
How did Max and I occupy ourselves while people were viewing our house? We looked at other people's houses, of course!
Jim hooked us up with Michael, one of his agents, and I sent him the list of houses we wanted to see. He agreed to meet us at the first one during the time when lots of people would be tramping through our house.
Darwin had to be in Albion for work, so he couldn't come with us. He said he trusted my judgement and would accept any decision I made. I didn't like this. It was a terrible pressure because I would have to accept a house based on my PERCEPTION of his judgement AND somehow stay under $XX. It added to the stress I was already under--the ticking clock, finding a house that =I= could live with, and the constant, crushing presence of COVID 19.
The current requirements say you can view houses for sale BUT: 1) no open houses; 2) everyone must be masked; 3) no more than four people in the house at a time; 4) showings may last no more than 15 minutes. Additionally, we knew we should sanitize after every house. More stress. What if we forgot to do something? What if we picked up the virus somewhere? But we forged ahead.
This was also the first time Max had been involved in house-hunting. I was a little surprised that he wanted to be. When we were looking for our current house, Max was adamant that he wanted nothing to do with it. When we announced that we were selling this house, Max shrugged and said, "Whatever." So it was a bit of a start that he wanted to hunt with me.
We met Michael at the first house on the list. He turned out to be slim and very young (younger than Sasha, who is 27), with a penchant for exclaiming, "Perfect!" to nearly everything. Max and I chose to find it endearing.
The first house Max and I saw was on a lake, but was in scary-rotten shape. Bad floors, bad walls, scary-ass bathroom. It was a terrible pity, because the lake was fantastic. Really, the place was a tear-down. Next.
The second house looked promising. It didn't have a basement, but it did have a sun room where the treadmill could go. But it was very small, a converted vacation cottage with an odd layout. We put it in the maybe pile.
Max and I toured more houses with Michael. Some we rejected outright, others we put in the same maybe pile. Max pointed out flaws I'd overlooked in some and pluses in others. None of them made us sit up and bark. Hmm . . .
That evening, I talked to Darwin and laid it out for him. We couldn't find a suitable house for $XX. Not within half an hour of my job. We needed to increase to at least $XX+YY, or we'd be homeless. Reluctantly, Darwin agreed.
With this expanded parameter, I searched again. This time, I came across several houses that looked much more suitable, including an historical farmhouse within walking distance of my job, a teeny-but-nice condo 15 minutes away from Wherever, a condo on a lake, and a half a dozen houses. I sent the list to Michael, who said we could start touring them Saturday afternoon. This time, Darwin would be there, too.
To my disappointment, Darwin didn't like the farmhouse at all. We got into . . . not quite a fight, but a protracted discussion about it. We both liked the teeny-but-nice condo (three bedrooms and an arrestingly large basement), though it would be too small to have people over and there seemed to be a lengthy application process. We saw a bunch of houses that were, frankly, disgusting or even scary. ("Need some TLC," says the listing. TRANSLATION: "You'll have to gut the place, and it'll take months.") One unoccupied house had a bathroom that looked like something you'd find in a condemned gas station.
When we got to the condo on the lake, Michael said, "I don't want to show you this one." When we asked why not, he explained, "It's a second-story unit and it has no basement. Based on what you've been telling me, it sounds like it won't meet your needs."
Darwin wanted to see it anyway, and I thought it was worth having at least a quick look, since it was close to the last two houses we were going to see. So we went.
The condo was . . . pretty awesome! Yeah, it's second-floor, but one entire wall of both the living room and master bedroom look out on the lake. Big, open floor plan. (I know open floor plans have their critics, but Darwin and I like them very much.) Balcony overlooking the lake for my writing porch. An oddly-built bathroom with an empty space opposite the sinks literally big enough for my treadmill. A walk-in closet the size of a bedroom. A ginormous master bedroom big enough to accommodate our desks so we can have a lake view while we're working and keep the third bedroom as a guest room. Big enough to have people over. Monthly dues under $300. And within our budget.
The only problem with it was the seller's information stated there had been "settling or flooding." Couldn't be flooding, so it had be settling. We did notice some uneven flooring in the entryway, and a settling crack in the ceiling. When we asked about this (through appropriate channels), we were told that there was indeed settling in the main structure of the building, but the condo association had re-buttressed the foundations and stopped it. We were cautiously reassured, though of course, it needs to be inspected.
We looked at the next house. It needed TLC. The final house canceled on us.
So we put an offer in on the lake condo.
This touched off, of course, a lot of phone conversations and emails and electronic document signing. And now we're waiting for a response.
comments
Jim hooked us up with Michael, one of his agents, and I sent him the list of houses we wanted to see. He agreed to meet us at the first one during the time when lots of people would be tramping through our house.
Darwin had to be in Albion for work, so he couldn't come with us. He said he trusted my judgement and would accept any decision I made. I didn't like this. It was a terrible pressure because I would have to accept a house based on my PERCEPTION of his judgement AND somehow stay under $XX. It added to the stress I was already under--the ticking clock, finding a house that =I= could live with, and the constant, crushing presence of COVID 19.
The current requirements say you can view houses for sale BUT: 1) no open houses; 2) everyone must be masked; 3) no more than four people in the house at a time; 4) showings may last no more than 15 minutes. Additionally, we knew we should sanitize after every house. More stress. What if we forgot to do something? What if we picked up the virus somewhere? But we forged ahead.
This was also the first time Max had been involved in house-hunting. I was a little surprised that he wanted to be. When we were looking for our current house, Max was adamant that he wanted nothing to do with it. When we announced that we were selling this house, Max shrugged and said, "Whatever." So it was a bit of a start that he wanted to hunt with me.
We met Michael at the first house on the list. He turned out to be slim and very young (younger than Sasha, who is 27), with a penchant for exclaiming, "Perfect!" to nearly everything. Max and I chose to find it endearing.
The first house Max and I saw was on a lake, but was in scary-rotten shape. Bad floors, bad walls, scary-ass bathroom. It was a terrible pity, because the lake was fantastic. Really, the place was a tear-down. Next.
The second house looked promising. It didn't have a basement, but it did have a sun room where the treadmill could go. But it was very small, a converted vacation cottage with an odd layout. We put it in the maybe pile.
Max and I toured more houses with Michael. Some we rejected outright, others we put in the same maybe pile. Max pointed out flaws I'd overlooked in some and pluses in others. None of them made us sit up and bark. Hmm . . .
That evening, I talked to Darwin and laid it out for him. We couldn't find a suitable house for $XX. Not within half an hour of my job. We needed to increase to at least $XX+YY, or we'd be homeless. Reluctantly, Darwin agreed.
With this expanded parameter, I searched again. This time, I came across several houses that looked much more suitable, including an historical farmhouse within walking distance of my job, a teeny-but-nice condo 15 minutes away from Wherever, a condo on a lake, and a half a dozen houses. I sent the list to Michael, who said we could start touring them Saturday afternoon. This time, Darwin would be there, too.
To my disappointment, Darwin didn't like the farmhouse at all. We got into . . . not quite a fight, but a protracted discussion about it. We both liked the teeny-but-nice condo (three bedrooms and an arrestingly large basement), though it would be too small to have people over and there seemed to be a lengthy application process. We saw a bunch of houses that were, frankly, disgusting or even scary. ("Need some TLC," says the listing. TRANSLATION: "You'll have to gut the place, and it'll take months.") One unoccupied house had a bathroom that looked like something you'd find in a condemned gas station.
When we got to the condo on the lake, Michael said, "I don't want to show you this one." When we asked why not, he explained, "It's a second-story unit and it has no basement. Based on what you've been telling me, it sounds like it won't meet your needs."
Darwin wanted to see it anyway, and I thought it was worth having at least a quick look, since it was close to the last two houses we were going to see. So we went.
The condo was . . . pretty awesome! Yeah, it's second-floor, but one entire wall of both the living room and master bedroom look out on the lake. Big, open floor plan. (I know open floor plans have their critics, but Darwin and I like them very much.) Balcony overlooking the lake for my writing porch. An oddly-built bathroom with an empty space opposite the sinks literally big enough for my treadmill. A walk-in closet the size of a bedroom. A ginormous master bedroom big enough to accommodate our desks so we can have a lake view while we're working and keep the third bedroom as a guest room. Big enough to have people over. Monthly dues under $300. And within our budget.
The only problem with it was the seller's information stated there had been "settling or flooding." Couldn't be flooding, so it had be settling. We did notice some uneven flooring in the entryway, and a settling crack in the ceiling. When we asked about this (through appropriate channels), we were told that there was indeed settling in the main structure of the building, but the condo association had re-buttressed the foundations and stopped it. We were cautiously reassured, though of course, it needs to be inspected.
We looked at the next house. It needed TLC. The final house canceled on us.
So we put an offer in on the lake condo.
This touched off, of course, a lot of phone conversations and emails and electronic document signing. And now we're waiting for a response.
comments
The Plague Diaries: An Explosion of Buyers
Wednesday evening at 11 PM, the house listing went live. I signed up to get text alerts whenever someone wanted to see the house. The automated system let me approve or deny a showing by texting back.
At 11:10, I got a request for a showing for Thursday afternoon.
At 11:20, I got another request for a showing for Thursday afternoon.
By Thursday morning, we had six requests. The earliest was for 8:30 AM. Then there was a gap until noon, when showings ran solid for hours.
Wow. Jim wasn't kidding.
On Thursday, the weather turned . . . gross. Chilly, rainy, awful. I turned on every single light in the house to brighten the place up.
For the 8:30 showing, we ordered breakfast from a takeout place, picked it up, and ate in the car. When we got back, we sanitized the place, wiping down every surface that we figured might have been touched.
In the middle of all this, I'd been scheduling showings of our own. In the old days, this would have involved sitting down with a real estate agent and paging through paper listings in stacks of loose-leaf binders collected by the real estate agent. Occasionally, the estate agent would say, "Oh! I know a house that just came on the market. You definitely need to see it."
Nowadays, the buyer does most of the work. Listings either come to you by automated email, or you hunt through real estate web sites that busily and invisibly harvest your information. By the time you've looked at fifty or sixty listings, the site has figured out your income and housing tastes and your DNA patterns.
Anyway, I had compiled a list of houses to see. This was actually difficult. Darwin insisted we keep the price at XX. I was dubious. We need a three-bedroom house (two bedrooms and an office, really) along with space for my treadmill, which Darwin also insisted could NOT be in the living room. This meant a house with a basement. However, the Wherever area is a hot zone for real estate due to the large number of lakefront and lake access properties and the fantastic school system. Finding a three-bedroom house with a basement for under $XX was hunting a unicorn.
I managed to find half a dozen listings that looked . . . possible, if not promising.
And I continued to field showing requests. Two for Thursday. One for Friday. Another for Thursday. Oops--could they reschedule for Friday? I accepted all of them.
Max and I vacated the house for the showings. (We'll talk later about how we occupied ourselves.)
That evening, less than 24 hours after we'd listed the house, my phone started blowing up with offers.
We got a cash offer for $15K under list price. (!) We got a regular offer of $5K under list price. And we got a regular offer at list price. We were about to accept that last one when Jim called to say that one agent was prepping "a very strong offer" and could we wait an hour? We said we certainly could.
An hour later, we got this offer: $4K over list. Cash. With a contingency clause that if anyone made a higher offer, this offer would rise to match it. Would we like this offer?
Yes. Yes, we would.
Less than 24 hours after listing the house, we had a cash buyer for way over list. Whoa!
comments
At 11:10, I got a request for a showing for Thursday afternoon.
At 11:20, I got another request for a showing for Thursday afternoon.
By Thursday morning, we had six requests. The earliest was for 8:30 AM. Then there was a gap until noon, when showings ran solid for hours.
Wow. Jim wasn't kidding.
On Thursday, the weather turned . . . gross. Chilly, rainy, awful. I turned on every single light in the house to brighten the place up.
For the 8:30 showing, we ordered breakfast from a takeout place, picked it up, and ate in the car. When we got back, we sanitized the place, wiping down every surface that we figured might have been touched.
In the middle of all this, I'd been scheduling showings of our own. In the old days, this would have involved sitting down with a real estate agent and paging through paper listings in stacks of loose-leaf binders collected by the real estate agent. Occasionally, the estate agent would say, "Oh! I know a house that just came on the market. You definitely need to see it."
Nowadays, the buyer does most of the work. Listings either come to you by automated email, or you hunt through real estate web sites that busily and invisibly harvest your information. By the time you've looked at fifty or sixty listings, the site has figured out your income and housing tastes and your DNA patterns.
Anyway, I had compiled a list of houses to see. This was actually difficult. Darwin insisted we keep the price at XX. I was dubious. We need a three-bedroom house (two bedrooms and an office, really) along with space for my treadmill, which Darwin also insisted could NOT be in the living room. This meant a house with a basement. However, the Wherever area is a hot zone for real estate due to the large number of lakefront and lake access properties and the fantastic school system. Finding a three-bedroom house with a basement for under $XX was hunting a unicorn.
I managed to find half a dozen listings that looked . . . possible, if not promising.
And I continued to field showing requests. Two for Thursday. One for Friday. Another for Thursday. Oops--could they reschedule for Friday? I accepted all of them.
Max and I vacated the house for the showings. (We'll talk later about how we occupied ourselves.)
That evening, less than 24 hours after we'd listed the house, my phone started blowing up with offers.
We got a cash offer for $15K under list price. (!) We got a regular offer of $5K under list price. And we got a regular offer at list price. We were about to accept that last one when Jim called to say that one agent was prepping "a very strong offer" and could we wait an hour? We said we certainly could.
An hour later, we got this offer: $4K over list. Cash. With a contingency clause that if anyone made a higher offer, this offer would rise to match it. Would we like this offer?
Yes. Yes, we would.
Less than 24 hours after listing the house, we had a cash buyer for way over list. Whoa!
comments
The Plague Diaries: Prep Dat House!
Monday evening, Max and I set about cleaning, straightening, and stuffing. We scoured the bathrooms, cleansed every counter, dusted every bit of wood. We put away or straightened every possession for maximum show-worthy quality. And we cleared off every surface that could be cleared. If we didn't need it--or even if we did--we stuffed it into a drawer or into a box in the garage. I even dismantled my indoor altar and disguised it as an end table.
This process went on through Tuesday. I reminded Max that his room would have to stay in show condition every minute, since we could get a request to see the house at any time. And I cleared out every bit of remaining evidence that cats had occupied the house--stray bits of litter in the basement, little crumbs of carpet snagged by their claws, the darker spots on the corners Dora always cheeks.
Jim was asking for photos. I took lots of them, every room from every angle. As a buyer, I always get suspicious when a listing has a paucity of pictures. What are they hiding? What aren't they showing? I know I'm not alone in this, so I took lots and lots of photos. The weather cooperated, giving me a beautiful sunny day to get the outdoor photos and light-drenched indoor photos. I saved them to Dropbox and sent Jim the link. He said he would get the listing up and running that evening.
This was Tuesday, and unknown to us, the storm was brewing.
comments
This process went on through Tuesday. I reminded Max that his room would have to stay in show condition every minute, since we could get a request to see the house at any time. And I cleared out every bit of remaining evidence that cats had occupied the house--stray bits of litter in the basement, little crumbs of carpet snagged by their claws, the darker spots on the corners Dora always cheeks.
Jim was asking for photos. I took lots of them, every room from every angle. As a buyer, I always get suspicious when a listing has a paucity of pictures. What are they hiding? What aren't they showing? I know I'm not alone in this, so I took lots and lots of photos. The weather cooperated, giving me a beautiful sunny day to get the outdoor photos and light-drenched indoor photos. I saved them to Dropbox and sent Jim the link. He said he would get the listing up and running that evening.
This was Tuesday, and unknown to us, the storm was brewing.
comments
The Plague Diaries: Preppin' Cats
With the decision made to sell the house, we set about prepping the place. This was Monday.
First, I ruled unilaterally that the cats had to go to Albion. People are ALWAYS put off when they tour a house with animals in it. It doesn't matter how nice they are, or how understanding, or how animal-loving. They always put back their whiskers and think, "Hm! Pet damage. Surprise smells. Hm!" So Dinah and Dora had to go.
Fortunately, we have a place to put them: the house in Albion. But . . .
Dora the Meatloaf was a teensy kitten when we first got her. Dinah was 18 months old when she arrived here four years ago. Neither of them remember anyplace but this house, and they've never set a paw beyond its boundaries except for rare trips to the vet. This was going to be a challenging time for them.
Unfortunately, we didn't have time to make it easier. Normally, I would have set out the cat carriers (we had to run out and buy a second one) with treats inside every day for a week so that they'd become normal, trusted parts of the house. But we decided Friday to list the house, and the cats had to be gone by the time the house went on the market early the following week. I sighed, and went to it.
Dora didn't take to being put in the carrier well at all. She fought and hissed and screeched and literally shit herself. I felt bad for her, but there was nothing for it. Dinah was more Zen about going into her carrier, at least. She hunkered down inside with an air of nervous resignation.
Max and I also loaded up all the cat stuff--three cat trees, litter box, food dispenser, toys, the whole lot--and drove to Albion. Both cats set up yowling. For the entire 90-minute drive. It was not fun for anyone.
At the house in Albion, we opened the carriers and half expected the cats to refuse to budge. But they bounded out and gingerly set about exploring this impossible, strange new place. All these stairs! A basement with many nooks and crannies! Different bedrooms! Different view out the windows! But familiar furniture. And familiar people. And familiar food. (This last was clearly most important to Dora.) There was much careful slinking. Dora finally settled on staying in the basement and only making brief forays upward, while Dinah quickly took to admiring the new outside view. For the first time in their lives, Things Have Changed.
Max and I had to go back the same day in order to prep the house, so we left Darwin in charge of the cats. He later reported that they were adjusting well. Dora made it up to the kitchen and flopped on her back to demand petting. Dinah claimed the sofa as her own.
So that was taken care of.
Meanwhile, Max and I headed back home to start prepping the house.
comments
First, I ruled unilaterally that the cats had to go to Albion. People are ALWAYS put off when they tour a house with animals in it. It doesn't matter how nice they are, or how understanding, or how animal-loving. They always put back their whiskers and think, "Hm! Pet damage. Surprise smells. Hm!" So Dinah and Dora had to go.
Fortunately, we have a place to put them: the house in Albion. But . . .
Dora the Meatloaf was a teensy kitten when we first got her. Dinah was 18 months old when she arrived here four years ago. Neither of them remember anyplace but this house, and they've never set a paw beyond its boundaries except for rare trips to the vet. This was going to be a challenging time for them.
Unfortunately, we didn't have time to make it easier. Normally, I would have set out the cat carriers (we had to run out and buy a second one) with treats inside every day for a week so that they'd become normal, trusted parts of the house. But we decided Friday to list the house, and the cats had to be gone by the time the house went on the market early the following week. I sighed, and went to it.
Dora didn't take to being put in the carrier well at all. She fought and hissed and screeched and literally shit herself. I felt bad for her, but there was nothing for it. Dinah was more Zen about going into her carrier, at least. She hunkered down inside with an air of nervous resignation.
Max and I also loaded up all the cat stuff--three cat trees, litter box, food dispenser, toys, the whole lot--and drove to Albion. Both cats set up yowling. For the entire 90-minute drive. It was not fun for anyone.
At the house in Albion, we opened the carriers and half expected the cats to refuse to budge. But they bounded out and gingerly set about exploring this impossible, strange new place. All these stairs! A basement with many nooks and crannies! Different bedrooms! Different view out the windows! But familiar furniture. And familiar people. And familiar food. (This last was clearly most important to Dora.) There was much careful slinking. Dora finally settled on staying in the basement and only making brief forays upward, while Dinah quickly took to admiring the new outside view. For the first time in their lives, Things Have Changed.
Max and I had to go back the same day in order to prep the house, so we left Darwin in charge of the cats. He later reported that they were adjusting well. Dora made it up to the kitchen and flopped on her back to demand petting. Dinah claimed the sofa as her own.
So that was taken care of.
Meanwhile, Max and I headed back home to start prepping the house.
comments
The Plague Diaries: Prep 'n' Stuff (With Cats)
With the decision made to sell the house, we set about prepping the place. This was Monday.
First, I ruled unilaterally that the cats had to go to Albion. People are ALWAYS put off when they tour a house with animals in it. It doesn't matter how nice they are, or how understanding, or how animal-loving. They always put back their whiskers and think, "Hm! Pet damage. Surprise smells. Hm!" So Dinah and Dora had to go.
Fortunately, we have a place to put them: the house in Albion. But . . .
Dora the Meatloaf was a teensy kitten when we first got her. Dinah was 18 months old when she arrived here four years ago. Neither of them remember anyplace but this house, and they've never set a paw beyond its boundaries except for rare trips to the vet. This was going to be a challenging time for them.
Unfortunately, we didn't have time to make it easier. Normally, I would have set out the cat carriers (we had to run out and buy a second one) with treats inside every day for a week so that they'd become normal, trusted parts of the house. But we decided Friday to list the house, and the cats had to be gone by the time the house went on the market early the following week. I sighed, and went to it.
Dora didn't take to being put in the carrier well at all. She fought and hissed and screeched and literally shit herself. I felt bad for her, but there was nothing for it. Dinah was more Zen about going into her carrier, at least. She hunkered down inside with an air of nervous resignation.
Max and I also loaded up all the cat stuff--three cat trees, litter box, food dispenser, toys, the whole lot--and drove to Albion. Both cats set up yowling. For the entire 90-minute drive. It was not fun for anyone.
At the house in Albion, we opened the carriers and half expected the cats to refuse to budge. But they bounded out and gingerly set about exploring this impossible, strange new place. All these stairs! A basement with many nooks and crannies! Different bedrooms! Different view out the windows! But familiar furniture. And familiar people. And familiar food. (This last was clearly most important to Dora.) There was much careful slinking. Dora finally settled on staying in the basement and only making brief forays upward, while Dinah quickly took to admiring the new outside view. For the first time in their lives, Things Have Changed.
Max and I had to go back the same day in order to prep the house, so we left Darwin in charge of the cats. He later reported that they were adjusting well. Dora made it up to the kitchen and flopped on her back to demand petting. Dinah claimed the sofa as her own.
So that was taken care of.
Meanwhile, Max and I headed back home to start prepping the house.
comments
First, I ruled unilaterally that the cats had to go to Albion. People are ALWAYS put off when they tour a house with animals in it. It doesn't matter how nice they are, or how understanding, or how animal-loving. They always put back their whiskers and think, "Hm! Pet damage. Surprise smells. Hm!" So Dinah and Dora had to go.
Fortunately, we have a place to put them: the house in Albion. But . . .
Dora the Meatloaf was a teensy kitten when we first got her. Dinah was 18 months old when she arrived here four years ago. Neither of them remember anyplace but this house, and they've never set a paw beyond its boundaries except for rare trips to the vet. This was going to be a challenging time for them.
Unfortunately, we didn't have time to make it easier. Normally, I would have set out the cat carriers (we had to run out and buy a second one) with treats inside every day for a week so that they'd become normal, trusted parts of the house. But we decided Friday to list the house, and the cats had to be gone by the time the house went on the market early the following week. I sighed, and went to it.
Dora didn't take to being put in the carrier well at all. She fought and hissed and screeched and literally shit herself. I felt bad for her, but there was nothing for it. Dinah was more Zen about going into her carrier, at least. She hunkered down inside with an air of nervous resignation.
Max and I also loaded up all the cat stuff--three cat trees, litter box, food dispenser, toys, the whole lot--and drove to Albion. Both cats set up yowling. For the entire 90-minute drive. It was not fun for anyone.
At the house in Albion, we opened the carriers and half expected the cats to refuse to budge. But they bounded out and gingerly set about exploring this impossible, strange new place. All these stairs! A basement with many nooks and crannies! Different bedrooms! Different view out the windows! But familiar furniture. And familiar people. And familiar food. (This last was clearly most important to Dora.) There was much careful slinking. Dora finally settled on staying in the basement and only making brief forays upward, while Dinah quickly took to admiring the new outside view. For the first time in their lives, Things Have Changed.
Max and I had to go back the same day in order to prep the house, so we left Darwin in charge of the cats. He later reported that they were adjusting well. Dora made it up to the kitchen and flopped on her back to demand petting. Dinah claimed the sofa as her own.
So that was taken care of.
Meanwhile, Max and I headed back home to start prepping the house.
comments
The Plague Diaries: A Mega-Decision
I love my house. I don't want to move. But . . .
Really, this house is too big. Darwin is only here part-time. Hell, =I'm= only here part-time. The basement is literally an entire 1,300-foot second house, complete with kitchen and full bathroom, but we only use it to house my treadmill. We sent one of the dining sets to Albion for Darwin to use, so the dining room is an empty, echoing space. It's silly to spend so much money on a house this large for this few people.
We were planning to sell the house next year, partly because Max is graduating soon, and it would be easier to wait until his life has settled (whether or not he was living with us would have an impact on what kind of house we'd buy), and partly because of the pandemic. Under Michigan's emergency declaration, real estate transactions were suspended. We COULDN'T sell.
But then two things happened.
First, the governor lifted her restriction on real estate. My thought was, "But who the heck would want to buy a house now?" Turns out I was asking the wrong question. I should have been asking, "Who the heck would want to SELL a house now?" Because a fair number of people want to buy houses, while very few people were putting their houses up for sale. Who wants potentially plague-ridden people to tromp through your house, right?
So we have a market where people do need to buy a house, but few are selling. The lopsided market means houses sell within hours--or even minutes--of hitting the market, according to Darwin's ex-but-still-friends Jim Powell. who runs a real estate agency.
Additionally, we can see financial troubles on the horizon. The legislators who oversee Michigan's budget are talking about a 20-25% reduction to school funding. This would certainly mean a gut-punch reduction of my salary and benefits. We soon may not be able to afford this house. If we didn't have to maintain a residence for Darwin in Albion, we'd be fine. But we do, so we aren't.
We decided it was better to sell the house now rather than lose it later. So we decided to list the house. This was on Friday. Little did we know what was coming . . .
comments
Really, this house is too big. Darwin is only here part-time. Hell, =I'm= only here part-time. The basement is literally an entire 1,300-foot second house, complete with kitchen and full bathroom, but we only use it to house my treadmill. We sent one of the dining sets to Albion for Darwin to use, so the dining room is an empty, echoing space. It's silly to spend so much money on a house this large for this few people.
We were planning to sell the house next year, partly because Max is graduating soon, and it would be easier to wait until his life has settled (whether or not he was living with us would have an impact on what kind of house we'd buy), and partly because of the pandemic. Under Michigan's emergency declaration, real estate transactions were suspended. We COULDN'T sell.
But then two things happened.
First, the governor lifted her restriction on real estate. My thought was, "But who the heck would want to buy a house now?" Turns out I was asking the wrong question. I should have been asking, "Who the heck would want to SELL a house now?" Because a fair number of people want to buy houses, while very few people were putting their houses up for sale. Who wants potentially plague-ridden people to tromp through your house, right?
So we have a market where people do need to buy a house, but few are selling. The lopsided market means houses sell within hours--or even minutes--of hitting the market, according to Darwin's ex-but-still-friends Jim Powell. who runs a real estate agency.
Additionally, we can see financial troubles on the horizon. The legislators who oversee Michigan's budget are talking about a 20-25% reduction to school funding. This would certainly mean a gut-punch reduction of my salary and benefits. We soon may not be able to afford this house. If we didn't have to maintain a residence for Darwin in Albion, we'd be fine. But we do, so we aren't.
We decided it was better to sell the house now rather than lose it later. So we decided to list the house. This was on Friday. Little did we know what was coming . . .
comments
May 7, 2020
The Plague Diaries: No Boredom Here
I get that lots of people are bored during stay-home orders. But I'm not one of them.
Every day, I spend considerable time with online teaching. I also run twice a day, write, and dip into social media. I have a house to run, with cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping to do. I go outside at least twice a day. I practice the harp.
On social media, I see people who say they're binging on this show, or they've worked through all the seasons of another, so what recommendations do people have now?
I have to say that when we went into lockdown, I figured I'd finally be one of the binge-watchers. I even got Disney+ so I could watch more stuff. It hasn't happened. If I watch an hour of TV, it's a big day.
I've been meaning to try my hand at this new dish or that new baking project. That hasn't happened, either. I just haven't had time.
And while I get restless, I'm never bored.
comments
Every day, I spend considerable time with online teaching. I also run twice a day, write, and dip into social media. I have a house to run, with cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping to do. I go outside at least twice a day. I practice the harp.
On social media, I see people who say they're binging on this show, or they've worked through all the seasons of another, so what recommendations do people have now?
I have to say that when we went into lockdown, I figured I'd finally be one of the binge-watchers. I even got Disney+ so I could watch more stuff. It hasn't happened. If I watch an hour of TV, it's a big day.
I've been meaning to try my hand at this new dish or that new baking project. That hasn't happened, either. I just haven't had time.
And while I get restless, I'm never bored.
comments
Beltaine 2020
Beltaine was weird this year. Because of, you know, the virus.
Beltaine these days is usually for setting up the outdoors, and I actually was able to do that. The governor allowed outdoor nurseries to re-open, and the weather was lovely and kind, so I masked up and went for it.
Keeping my distance from everyone, I bought a carload of hanging baskets and transplant flowers. These I hung around my front porch and placed on the stone altar in the back yard. I also planted a set of flowers in the large planters on the back deck and watered everything with fertilized water.
Our lawn guy, who is very meticulous at his job, had already done the spring cleanup and mowed the lawn. Since I don't enjoy this kind of work, I was happy to let him do it.
I set up the stone altar, placing my Goddess statues and my God figures on and around it with candles and other decorations, including a metal reproduction of the triple-spiral stone that guards the entrance to Newgrange in Ireland. I noticed that I'd placed the stone in such a way that one of the three spirals is hidden by another stone, an accidental symbol for the Hidden Mysteries.
That evening, I performed a Beltaine ritual while the spring peepers and mourning doves called all around me.
comments
Beltaine these days is usually for setting up the outdoors, and I actually was able to do that. The governor allowed outdoor nurseries to re-open, and the weather was lovely and kind, so I masked up and went for it.
Keeping my distance from everyone, I bought a carload of hanging baskets and transplant flowers. These I hung around my front porch and placed on the stone altar in the back yard. I also planted a set of flowers in the large planters on the back deck and watered everything with fertilized water.
Our lawn guy, who is very meticulous at his job, had already done the spring cleanup and mowed the lawn. Since I don't enjoy this kind of work, I was happy to let him do it.
I set up the stone altar, placing my Goddess statues and my God figures on and around it with candles and other decorations, including a metal reproduction of the triple-spiral stone that guards the entrance to Newgrange in Ireland. I noticed that I'd placed the stone in such a way that one of the three spirals is hidden by another stone, an accidental symbol for the Hidden Mysteries.
That evening, I performed a Beltaine ritual while the spring peepers and mourning doves called all around me.
comments
April 28, 2020
The Plague Diaries: World's Worst Summer Break
This feels like the world's worst summer break. Lemme explain.
Because I'm home all day, it feels like I'm on summer break. I wear what I want, eat when I please, exercise when I wish. I can play music or videos any time. BUT . . . I'm NOT on summer break. I have teaching duties, and lordy, there are a lot of them. I'm still putting in more time in the virtual classroom than I did in the actual classroom. I'm working, working, working.
Except that I'm NOT working in the classroom. And normally I don't bring classwork home. If I have papers to grade or lesson plans to make or whatever, I do it at work after the students leave for the day. I'd rather stay at work a couple hours late than take take anything home. On those rare occasions I =do= bring work home, I get grumbly and pissy about it. I'm HOME. Why I am doing school work here?
Now my classroom is at home. But 20-odd years of doing work at school has imprinted on my brain that at home, my job is an . . . intrusion. When I'm home for the day, I don't do school work! And when I'm home for days on end, I'm home for the summer and don't do school work!
But of course, I have to, and I do. I'm home, and I'm doing work. It feels like the world's worst summer break!
comments
Because I'm home all day, it feels like I'm on summer break. I wear what I want, eat when I please, exercise when I wish. I can play music or videos any time. BUT . . . I'm NOT on summer break. I have teaching duties, and lordy, there are a lot of them. I'm still putting in more time in the virtual classroom than I did in the actual classroom. I'm working, working, working.
Except that I'm NOT working in the classroom. And normally I don't bring classwork home. If I have papers to grade or lesson plans to make or whatever, I do it at work after the students leave for the day. I'd rather stay at work a couple hours late than take take anything home. On those rare occasions I =do= bring work home, I get grumbly and pissy about it. I'm HOME. Why I am doing school work here?
Now my classroom is at home. But 20-odd years of doing work at school has imprinted on my brain that at home, my job is an . . . intrusion. When I'm home for the day, I don't do school work! And when I'm home for days on end, I'm home for the summer and don't do school work!
But of course, I have to, and I do. I'm home, and I'm doing work. It feels like the world's worst summer break!
comments
