Good morning, Chas. I awakened at 5:40….the rest of the house is quiet…I’ve had my coffee and dealt with the dog…now just waiting on someone to come downstairs…
Good morning, everyone. I have 2 trees up and decorated, but I could sure use Kim’s help this year. I know what I want to do, but I can’t articulate it and it’s hard to make each vignette look the way I envision. Oh well, it’s still fun to try different things 🙂
Good Saturday, Wanderers! A strong wind keeps kicking up the dry leaves outside. I hope this is not causing troubled with fires that had almost been put out in the mountainous areas.
I am in from the morning chores, waiting on the little folk to get the dogs walked. Fifteen year old is home as there is no school today. He is eating breakfast. Seventeen has basketball practice and half a dozen other activities for the day. Husband is off to New Jersey.
A lovely soothing rain here in Northern California. The housecleaner is coming as usual (“I love to iron,” she says now that I’ve taught her how), and this really is about finishing up the book today.
Reminds me of the time I ironed a huge load of clothes for the woman who lived below me. I was a college student living with roommates for a short few months. She said she would pay me later and foolish me believed her. I was too shy to pursue it. I wonder if she ever had a moment of guilt? My mom did teach me to iron and I never really minded it.
I woke / got up around 8 a.m., briefly lamenting the state of my bathroom & the rest of the house. This will all take a while, I can see now.
My cousins are coming over in a couple hours, I’m going to get their ideas on keeping vs. replacing the tub. If I replace, it will take up to 2-4 inches more of floor space based on the two models I like. But that’s in a bathroom that already was too small/crowded, though now I’ll have a small pedestal sink in there instead of a vanity.
If the current tub were comfortable and deep enough, the decision would be easy, but it’s really an uncomfortable tub for bathing.
Sorry for thinking out loud.
We’re expecting rain tomorrow, probably the stuff that Michelle is getting today when it makes its way south. The house is very cold in the mornings now, I’ve switched to my flannel sheets.
O what a beautiful star is star in Paradise
Where you always live in happiness and rice
Seeing God face svelat’il
O what a beautiful star is star in heaven.
Alas the horrible star down to hell
Where it lives and is planted in eternal fire
Without ever seeing God forever and ever
Ouch, ouch, star how horrible, June hell.
There will not reign a star without heat
Ch’il temp’è tempered all the hore
There is no rain, the storm will flash
The star always there you see serene.
The fire and the ice there, or wonder
The frost, storms, and somm’ardore
Stann’in a site suits the interperie
It radunan there, or misery.
Who can narrate that harmony
That fan the rumors with this melody
Ragiscon that ‘my heart’ soul ‘to narrate
Or that the fia then try them on there.
Shouts of hideous beasts and mugiti
Confuse stridade pigs and rugiti
Of lions and exhibitions of every kind
Odon that trafiggon them more than death.
Nettar, ragweed, manna and every liquor
And it enjoys the taste in the mouth is such a flavor
sweet abrupt or piccadiglia mixed
That satii and put hungry marvelous occasion.
There are Cania hunger and burning thirst
Ch’il own body the Havran with the tooth
They never taste a drop of water
But always everlasting thirst.
There you will have in short, what you want
And what you do not want you won’t have
And that is it, O Muse, I can say
But he does break the song and since the audacity.
That ch’aborrisce here the whole desires
That delights you and like never desires
And you will be full of all evil
Desperate of uscime never, never, never!
Okay, I tried to take my primitive Italian and correct what didn’t come out right with Google translate, but you may get what the song is about. I loved seeing those medieval instruments!
LOL, and hearing the music, of course. But, no wonder the guys wore dark glasses . . . 🙂
Cheryl, no, Philippe Jaroussky is a countertenor. His speaking voice is actually in the normal male range, but his singing voice is really that high (something I understand, because, like my mother, my speaking voice is quite low but I sing soprano). Baroque music used the soprano male voice range a lot, and some of the men who sung were what was called castratos, but not all. There are several countertenors who still sing in the Baroque style and they have not received hormonal or surgical treatment, it is just a variation of design.
Roscuro, I wondered that, whether there were adult men who sang at that high range. I once had a roommate who ended up being the only woman in the tenor section in our church choir, so I do know that there’s quite a variation within the realm of normal. I just hadn’t heard a man with that high a voice.
Cheryl, I sing in the church choir here. There is one woman who sings tenor, because her voice is so low that even alto is out of range. It is somewhat amusing when the choir director says out of habit something like, “Now I want the guys to sing their parts” (the woman who sings tenor is the director’s mother). Now, the high musicians, to coin a phrase, would contend that a woman cannot truly sing tenor, any more than a man can truly sing alto or soprano – it has to do with timbre and tone, as even though a man and woman might have the same note range, their voices carry a completely different quality; but a lowly church choir doesn’t worry about that kind of thing.
Anyone who is already tired of winter weather, I’m finishing up a book of butterfly photos. If you want a link to see the photos, just e-mail me. I have about 40 species “in the wild,” plus a page of pretty moths, plus about two dozen taken in butterfly gardens (and labeled as such in their own section).
Yup. Buy a new one, so I’m going to have to make some calls to see if it’s quicker/easier to get it from Kohler direct in LA or from a Home Depot, real estate pal (whom I saw tonight at the dog park) is going to check with some friends who might be able to handle the removal and installation, probably only a 2-hour job but lots of heavy lifting and maneuvering to do, so not really easy.
Morning all. My newsletter is done and winging its way around the world as I type. Of course now I get those quick notices of those whose email addresses are not right. But it is done. Time for some sleep to be ready for Kinder in the morning.
Son eats tortillas all of the time. Sometimes filled, sometimes plain. Sometimes homemade, sometimes storebought. And he is not one of the Mexican descent children. His bio sister detests them. Funny.
Peter, These tortillas are from El Rancho Grande, the best Mexican resteraunt in Fort Worth. When my wife makes them, they taste great but are generally shaped like Ohio or Iowa rather than being round.
I lived near Atlanta from 1966-1969. There were no Mexicans and no tortillas. We had to have tortillas and hot sauce shipped to us by relatives in Lubbock.
The best corn tortillas I ever ate were cooked on a wood stove by a Mexican lady from the tiny mountain village of Las Hormigas near Saltillo. My brother-in-law started eating tortillas at age 4 months. One of my son’s first sentences was “Mah Torteewa” (More tortillas!).
Just the other day I was commenting that I seemed to be going through a season of not having to walk on eggshells with anyone. Well, Kaboom!
I spent some time looking up jobs on LinkedIn that my brother might consider. I found two that seemed right for him. I called and told him about them. Later in the day he called me sounding mad as fire saying only, “Don’t ever give me anymore LinkedIn jobs.” He had gotten Ransomeware on the computer and had to spend hours getting it off. He put the blame all on me. I was not willing to take credit for cyber security issues and ended up hanging up on him. We have not spoken since. Advice, anyone?
Call your brother, apologize for hanging up on him. He was angry and took it out on you. Move forward. Brothers are too important to let something like that get in the way.
I am home also with one ill child and one headache that won’t quit.
My recipe card seems to be gone but my recollection of mine is flour, salt, baking powder, lard, and warm water. Make a soft dough, form golf balls, roll out. Of course, mine is not the best, but people seem to eat it well enough. Except one daughter in law who called it outrageous that I would even attempt to make tortillas with no Mexican heritage. Her dad is American Mexican. Her mom is New Jersey. Anyway, shortly after, she took to using my recipe and I have heard no more complaints on my audacity.
When I was a teenager I bought masa harina (sp?) and made homemade doritos! I don’t remember where I got the recipe, but everyone loved them. I haven’t made them in a long time. I think I made tortillas too, but I don’t remember.
I had a Hispanic roommate in college (not raised in a Hispanic household), and one day a few years after college I was eating at her house and she had tortillas and she said she hadn’t had time to make them herself so she bought them. I thought hey, homemade tortillas, I’ve never had those, I hope she serves them sometime! And one day she served homemade ones . . . and they tasted exactly like the flour tortillas one gets in the grocery store.
Now, I have had homemade tamales, made by Mexicans in Arizona (and presumably other places) annually in a huge cooking day near Christmas. They are a bit strong for me, but I could develop a taste for them.
All of our tortillas here are homemade. Different haus meris make and sell them. You have to find out whose you like the best. They are very thin as they roll them out. I imagine they can make more that way.
Back in the dark ages when we lived in upstate NY, you couldn’t buy Mexican food so, using the recipe in The Joy of Cooking, I tried home made tortillas.
Having never SEEN lard before, I used Crisco.
Totally awful.
My mom regularly sent a care package after that– once a month, tortillas, canned chiles and canned re fried beans. Celebration!
Mexican food is all Hill wants to eat; the same with my daughter’s friend now exiled to Rochester, NY. My daughter has been sending her food packages, too!
I’ve made flour tortillas. Corn does not agree with me (I can only eat it occasionally) so I haven’t ever tried to make ‘real’ tortillas. I have however, eaten them – they were of course, the staple when I went to Chihuahua. I did develop an appreciation for refried beans in tortillas there, but alas, beans, like corn, are only tolerated by my digestion. I suspect my North-Western European genetics have a lot to do with what my system can handle – a steady diet of rice isn’t good either.
Jo, AJ has posted wood duck photos numerous times. I’m guessing that he is blessed enough to see them easily where he lives. (He may have posted that specific photo before, I don’t know.)
OK, I picked up a role of heavy-duty plastic humidity barrier liner plastic and a couple very cheap vinyl shower liners — but I could not find a bath mat (the non-skid kind with suction cups) anywhere, so I’ll have to improvise there for now, maybe with a folded towel that should prevent slipping.
Last thing I need now is a broken arm to go with my gutted bathroom.
I’ll see if i can’t build a plastic cocoon in there to keep all the walls and floor safe from spraying water — while still allowing me to get in a little shower or two now and then, short as they may have to be.
No showers for more than 2 days makes you feel really yucky.
😦
It’s been lightly raining all day here, no dog park trip for us today (it’ll be very muddy). Good sermon this morning (and Q&A), I was convicted as usual. 🙂
Mumsee, my father lived near a river that runs into the Atlantic when he was growing up. They used to get lampreys. There was someone in the community who caught and smoked them, but he and his friends hated them because the lampreys would sometimes latch on when they were swimming in the river. In order to get them off because of those horrible mouths, they had to cut the lamprey off around the mouth. So, they would fish for lamprey with pitchforks, spearing them and throwing them up on the bank.
Or, DJ, try a birdbath. (No, not in an actual birdbath.) Wash up thoroughly at your sink (even if you have to do it at the kitchen sink, & wash your hair in the sink, too.
Kizzie, haha, groan. This person made a living out of selling smoked fish and my father vividly remembers visiting the smoke house and seeing the racks of eel. The smoker of fish was an immigrant from Eastern Europe, something which stood out in a community of primarily Scots-Irish descendants of immigrants who had come to the valley almost two hundred years previously. I think my father, in his childhood mind, was inclined to view the fish-smoker’s use of lampreys as something odd and foreign.
Ki-oat. I don’t know how my family said it; I heard Wile E. Ki-oh-tee and figured it was said that way to be poetic, so I’m guessing the people in Phoenix must have said it with two syllables too. But the family I married into says it as three syllables.
Tortillas: we usually use store-bought; flour, corn or rice tortillas. I did try a homemade tortilla recipe a long time ago with some sort of gluten-free flour, I think, but I had trouble getting them done up just right so they wouldn’t burn, so I gave up on them.
Singing voices: mine is in the contralto range, so I have always sung alto in choirs. (Except one time when a Tenor 1 voice was needed for a song with lots of parts and few singers, I sang that part. I think the lowest it got was the E, or maybe E-flat or D below middle C, a pitch I could sing, but not with much projection.)
My voice professor in college (who was not my college choir director, so I don’t think he knew I was an alto in choir), an affable instructor with whom I really enjoyed studying, once made the remark that altos are just lazy sopranos. I didn’t say anything, but I don’t agree with that assessment. Everyone has a singing voice that is unique, and while training can do some things to expand one’s vocal versatility to a certain degree, it is very harmful to try to make a person’s voice do what is unnatural to it. Too many people have damaged their vocal cords trying over long periods of time to work at the high ends of their ranges and beyond. (Attempting to sing lower than one’s comfortable range can be problematic, also, if done often, but overdoing the high end, especially if done forcefully, is very hard on one’s vocal health; my instructor’s comment about altos being “lazy sopranos” was misguided, IMO, and can be potentially dangerous, if one repeatedly tries to overcome the “handicap” of not being able to sing high.)
Fortunately, he didn’t give me higher soprano parts to sing in my voice lessons, but mostly contralto and some mezzo-soprano, and I didn’t damage my voice on the mezzo works.
I slept poorly most of this last week, and today it caught up with me. We went to early church, then Bible study, and by the time we got home around 11:00 this morning, I was so tired I went to bed after changing out of my church clothes. Didn’t even eat lunch; I was a little hungry, but way more tired, and the bed looked a lot more appealing than the refrigerator. 😉
Fell asleep almost immediately; woke up 50 minutes later, didn’t feel all that rested, and was asleep again almost instantaneously, I think.
Woke up with the afternoon sunshine coming in under/aside of the blinds on my west bedroom window. Looked at the clock:
2:00 on the nose.
Three hours, minus only a few minutes, of sleep.
And I’ve still been tired. Not groggy tired from too much sleep, and not the same kind of tired as before I laid down, but not particularly energetic, either.
Hoping I can sleep well tonight, and that a 3-hour nap didn’t mess it up. I think it was early enough in the day that maybe it won’t be a problem.
First Arrow called home Friday after work. 🙂 Always a pleasure to hear one’s adult children on the phone — a real live voice — instead of just via words on a cellphone screen. 🙂
Wandering Views 
Good morning Aj and everyone else.
It’ Saturday, so everyone sleep in. I did. fifteen minutes.
🙂
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Good morning, Chas. I awakened at 5:40….the rest of the house is quiet…I’ve had my coffee and dealt with the dog…now just waiting on someone to come downstairs…
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Good morning, everyone. I have 2 trees up and decorated, but I could sure use Kim’s help this year. I know what I want to do, but I can’t articulate it and it’s hard to make each vignette look the way I envision. Oh well, it’s still fun to try different things 🙂
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I didn’t understand any of that Kare, but it sounds like fun.
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Good Saturday, Wanderers! A strong wind keeps kicking up the dry leaves outside. I hope this is not causing troubled with fires that had almost been put out in the mountainous areas.
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I am in from the morning chores, waiting on the little folk to get the dogs walked. Fifteen year old is home as there is no school today. He is eating breakfast. Seventeen has basketball practice and half a dozen other activities for the day. Husband is off to New Jersey.
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A lovely soothing rain here in Northern California. The housecleaner is coming as usual (“I love to iron,” she says now that I’ve taught her how), and this really is about finishing up the book today.
More on rants and raves.
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Reminds me of the time I ironed a huge load of clothes for the woman who lived below me. I was a college student living with roommates for a short few months. She said she would pay me later and foolish me believed her. I was too shy to pursue it. I wonder if she ever had a moment of guilt? My mom did teach me to iron and I never really minded it.
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Yesterday was our windy day. It isn’t fun driving with a 35+ mph cross wind.
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I woke / got up around 8 a.m., briefly lamenting the state of my bathroom & the rest of the house. This will all take a while, I can see now.
My cousins are coming over in a couple hours, I’m going to get their ideas on keeping vs. replacing the tub. If I replace, it will take up to 2-4 inches more of floor space based on the two models I like. But that’s in a bathroom that already was too small/crowded, though now I’ll have a small pedestal sink in there instead of a vanity.
If the current tub were comfortable and deep enough, the decision would be easy, but it’s really an uncomfortable tub for bathing.
Sorry for thinking out loud.
We’re expecting rain tomorrow, probably the stuff that Michelle is getting today when it makes its way south. The house is very cold in the mornings now, I’ve switched to my flannel sheets.
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Just some musical humour:
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I don’t get it of course, but it was clear they were enjoying themselves and I liked that.
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Ugh, water leak somewhere in spare water closet, floor is all wet … Just texted the plumber who put the new toilet in.
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Song of Paradise and Hell, probably from Dante
O what a beautiful star is star in Paradise
Where you always live in happiness and rice
Seeing God face svelat’il
O what a beautiful star is star in heaven.
Alas the horrible star down to hell
Where it lives and is planted in eternal fire
Without ever seeing God forever and ever
Ouch, ouch, star how horrible, June hell.
There will not reign a star without heat
Ch’il temp’è tempered all the hore
There is no rain, the storm will flash
The star always there you see serene.
The fire and the ice there, or wonder
The frost, storms, and somm’ardore
Stann’in a site suits the interperie
It radunan there, or misery.
Who can narrate that harmony
That fan the rumors with this melody
Ragiscon that ‘my heart’ soul ‘to narrate
Or that the fia then try them on there.
Shouts of hideous beasts and mugiti
Confuse stridade pigs and rugiti
Of lions and exhibitions of every kind
Odon that trafiggon them more than death.
Nettar, ragweed, manna and every liquor
And it enjoys the taste in the mouth is such a flavor
sweet abrupt or piccadiglia mixed
That satii and put hungry marvelous occasion.
There are Cania hunger and burning thirst
Ch’il own body the Havran with the tooth
They never taste a drop of water
But always everlasting thirst.
There you will have in short, what you want
And what you do not want you won’t have
And that is it, O Muse, I can say
But he does break the song and since the audacity.
That ch’aborrisce here the whole desires
That delights you and like never desires
And you will be full of all evil
Desperate of uscime never, never, never!
Okay, I tried to take my primitive Italian and correct what didn’t come out right with Google translate, but you may get what the song is about. I loved seeing those medieval instruments!
LOL, and hearing the music, of course. But, no wonder the guys wore dark glasses . . . 🙂
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And I’m assuming the one man was lip synching and that was really a woman singing?
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I’m back to normal!
Mostly…. 🙂
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Cheryl, no, Philippe Jaroussky is a countertenor. His speaking voice is actually in the normal male range, but his singing voice is really that high (something I understand, because, like my mother, my speaking voice is quite low but I sing soprano). Baroque music used the soprano male voice range a lot, and some of the men who sung were what was called castratos, but not all. There are several countertenors who still sing in the Baroque style and they have not received hormonal or surgical treatment, it is just a variation of design.
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Roscuro, I wondered that, whether there were adult men who sang at that high range. I once had a roommate who ended up being the only woman in the tenor section in our church choir, so I do know that there’s quite a variation within the realm of normal. I just hadn’t heard a man with that high a voice.
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Cheryl, I sing in the church choir here. There is one woman who sings tenor, because her voice is so low that even alto is out of range. It is somewhat amusing when the choir director says out of habit something like, “Now I want the guys to sing their parts” (the woman who sings tenor is the director’s mother). Now, the high musicians, to coin a phrase, would contend that a woman cannot truly sing tenor, any more than a man can truly sing alto or soprano – it has to do with timbre and tone, as even though a man and woman might have the same note range, their voices carry a completely different quality; but a lowly church choir doesn’t worry about that kind of thing.
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Anyone who is already tired of winter weather, I’m finishing up a book of butterfly photos. If you want a link to see the photos, just e-mail me. I have about 40 species “in the wild,” plus a page of pretty moths, plus about two dozen taken in butterfly gardens (and labeled as such in their own section).
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DJ, any consensus on the tub?
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Yup. Buy a new one, so I’m going to have to make some calls to see if it’s quicker/easier to get it from Kohler direct in LA or from a Home Depot, real estate pal (whom I saw tonight at the dog park) is going to check with some friends who might be able to handle the removal and installation, probably only a 2-hour job but lots of heavy lifting and maneuvering to do, so not really easy.
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Morning all. My newsletter is done and winging its way around the world as I type. Of course now I get those quick notices of those whose email addresses are not right. But it is done. Time for some sleep to be ready for Kinder in the morning.
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Ricky- That works wherever you live, as long as there are tortillas in the house. Are those home made? Tortillas made by hand are the best kind.
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Son eats tortillas all of the time. Sometimes filled, sometimes plain. Sometimes homemade, sometimes storebought. And he is not one of the Mexican descent children. His bio sister detests them. Funny.
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Peter, These tortillas are from El Rancho Grande, the best Mexican resteraunt in Fort Worth. When my wife makes them, they taste great but are generally shaped like Ohio or Iowa rather than being round.
I lived near Atlanta from 1966-1969. There were no Mexicans and no tortillas. We had to have tortillas and hot sauce shipped to us by relatives in Lubbock.
The best corn tortillas I ever ate were cooked on a wood stove by a Mexican lady from the tiny mountain village of Las Hormigas near Saltillo. My brother-in-law started eating tortillas at age 4 months. One of my son’s first sentences was “Mah Torteewa” (More tortillas!).
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Mine are shaped more like Idaho.
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My husband’s tortillas also have a funny shape, but they taste so much better than store bought.
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Please tell me where to get the best recipe for homemade tortillas.
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Just the other day I was commenting that I seemed to be going through a season of not having to walk on eggshells with anyone. Well, Kaboom!
I spent some time looking up jobs on LinkedIn that my brother might consider. I found two that seemed right for him. I called and told him about them. Later in the day he called me sounding mad as fire saying only, “Don’t ever give me anymore LinkedIn jobs.” He had gotten Ransomeware on the computer and had to spend hours getting it off. He put the blame all on me. I was not willing to take credit for cyber security issues and ended up hanging up on him. We have not spoken since. Advice, anyone?
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I did not go to church today since I still have a sore throat, off and on, and I did not want to spread any of my travelers germs.
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Call your brother, apologize for hanging up on him. He was angry and took it out on you. Move forward. Brothers are too important to let something like that get in the way.
I am home also with one ill child and one headache that won’t quit.
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My recipe card seems to be gone but my recollection of mine is flour, salt, baking powder, lard, and warm water. Make a soft dough, form golf balls, roll out. Of course, mine is not the best, but people seem to eat it well enough. Except one daughter in law who called it outrageous that I would even attempt to make tortillas with no Mexican heritage. Her dad is American Mexican. Her mom is New Jersey. Anyway, shortly after, she took to using my recipe and I have heard no more complaints on my audacity.
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When I was a teenager I bought masa harina (sp?) and made homemade doritos! I don’t remember where I got the recipe, but everyone loved them. I haven’t made them in a long time. I think I made tortillas too, but I don’t remember.
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I had a Hispanic roommate in college (not raised in a Hispanic household), and one day a few years after college I was eating at her house and she had tortillas and she said she hadn’t had time to make them herself so she bought them. I thought hey, homemade tortillas, I’ve never had those, I hope she serves them sometime! And one day she served homemade ones . . . and they tasted exactly like the flour tortillas one gets in the grocery store.
Now, I have had homemade tamales, made by Mexicans in Arizona (and presumably other places) annually in a huge cooking day near Christmas. They are a bit strong for me, but I could develop a taste for them.
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All of our tortillas here are homemade. Different haus meris make and sell them. You have to find out whose you like the best. They are very thin as they roll them out. I imagine they can make more that way.
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Back in the dark ages when we lived in upstate NY, you couldn’t buy Mexican food so, using the recipe in The Joy of Cooking, I tried home made tortillas.
Having never SEEN lard before, I used Crisco.
Totally awful.
My mom regularly sent a care package after that– once a month, tortillas, canned chiles and canned re fried beans. Celebration!
Mexican food is all Hill wants to eat; the same with my daughter’s friend now exiled to Rochester, NY. My daughter has been sending her food packages, too!
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I’ve made flour tortillas. Corn does not agree with me (I can only eat it occasionally) so I haven’t ever tried to make ‘real’ tortillas. I have however, eaten them – they were of course, the staple when I went to Chihuahua. I did develop an appreciation for refried beans in tortillas there, but alas, beans, like corn, are only tolerated by my digestion. I suspect my North-Western European genetics have a lot to do with what my system can handle – a steady diet of rice isn’t good either.
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Speaking of food, here is a fun little article about that “First Thanksgiving’ meal: https://faithandamericanhistory.wordpress.com/2016/11/20/eel-and-all-the-trimmings-an-authentic-thanksgiving-menu/
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I know you are not supposed to but I often substituted butter and they were fine.
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Here you go, for your edification:
http://www.critfc.org/fish-and-watersheds/columbia-river-fish-species/lamprey/
The lamprey is not actually an eel but has been referred to by that name for years. Disregard the millions of years and brother part but this is some of what the Nezperce are doing around here.
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Guess it did not go to the video, but scroll down to an interesting five minutes on the lamprey.
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okay, I have a question. I like the header picture, but is it repeat from last year? I seem to remember seeing it before.
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Jo, AJ has posted wood duck photos numerous times. I’m guessing that he is blessed enough to see them easily where he lives. (He may have posted that specific photo before, I don’t know.)
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He’s also had computer problems, remember, maybe not access to the usual applications in the past few days.
Nothing’s better than good Mexican food.
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OK, I picked up a role of heavy-duty plastic humidity barrier liner plastic and a couple very cheap vinyl shower liners — but I could not find a bath mat (the non-skid kind with suction cups) anywhere, so I’ll have to improvise there for now, maybe with a folded towel that should prevent slipping.
Last thing I need now is a broken arm to go with my gutted bathroom.
I’ll see if i can’t build a plastic cocoon in there to keep all the walls and floor safe from spraying water — while still allowing me to get in a little shower or two now and then, short as they may have to be.
No showers for more than 2 days makes you feel really yucky.
😦
It’s been lightly raining all day here, no dog park trip for us today (it’ll be very muddy). Good sermon this morning (and Q&A), I was convicted as usual. 🙂
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roll
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how do you pronounce coyote?
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How about the back yard and a hose, DJ?
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Ki (long i) OH tee.
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Mumsee, my father lived near a river that runs into the Atlantic when he was growing up. They used to get lampreys. There was someone in the community who caught and smoked them, but he and his friends hated them because the lampreys would sometimes latch on when they were swimming in the river. In order to get them off because of those horrible mouths, they had to cut the lamprey off around the mouth. So, they would fish for lamprey with pitchforks, spearing them and throwing them up on the bank.
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Or, DJ, try a birdbath. (No, not in an actual birdbath.) Wash up thoroughly at your sink (even if you have to do it at the kitchen sink, & wash your hair in the sink, too.
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Roscuro – Does smoking a lamprey make one high?
Hahahahaha!
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Although, Mumsee, I’ve heard it also pronounced (only in “westerns” on TV or movies) Ki -oat.
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Karen, been there, done that (sink washings).
We say coy-o-teeee.
But I like cy-ote. Some of the researchers I’ve interviewed pronounce it that way
I can always get a Llama for the backyard, coyotes don’t like them. But they’re hard on dogs.
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fifty seven
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Kizzie, haha, groan. This person made a living out of selling smoked fish and my father vividly remembers visiting the smoke house and seeing the racks of eel. The smoker of fish was an immigrant from Eastern Europe, something which stood out in a community of primarily Scots-Irish descendants of immigrants who had come to the valley almost two hundred years previously. I think my father, in his childhood mind, was inclined to view the fish-smoker’s use of lampreys as something odd and foreign.
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We pronounce it ki oat. Though some of the children pronounce it ki oat tay.
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We pronounce coyote pretty much the way Kizzie does.
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Ki-oat. I don’t know how my family said it; I heard Wile E. Ki-oh-tee and figured it was said that way to be poetic, so I’m guessing the people in Phoenix must have said it with two syllables too. But the family I married into says it as three syllables.
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Lampreys are a big project around here, and fished for by hand and net.
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Donna, @ 5:56
“Nothing’s better than good Mexican food.”
A couple of things Donna. A couple.
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Ki’-ote is how we say it here.
Tortillas: we usually use store-bought; flour, corn or rice tortillas. I did try a homemade tortilla recipe a long time ago with some sort of gluten-free flour, I think, but I had trouble getting them done up just right so they wouldn’t burn, so I gave up on them.
Singing voices: mine is in the contralto range, so I have always sung alto in choirs. (Except one time when a Tenor 1 voice was needed for a song with lots of parts and few singers, I sang that part. I think the lowest it got was the E, or maybe E-flat or D below middle C, a pitch I could sing, but not with much projection.)
My voice professor in college (who was not my college choir director, so I don’t think he knew I was an alto in choir), an affable instructor with whom I really enjoyed studying, once made the remark that altos are just lazy sopranos. I didn’t say anything, but I don’t agree with that assessment. Everyone has a singing voice that is unique, and while training can do some things to expand one’s vocal versatility to a certain degree, it is very harmful to try to make a person’s voice do what is unnatural to it. Too many people have damaged their vocal cords trying over long periods of time to work at the high ends of their ranges and beyond. (Attempting to sing lower than one’s comfortable range can be problematic, also, if done often, but overdoing the high end, especially if done forcefully, is very hard on one’s vocal health; my instructor’s comment about altos being “lazy sopranos” was misguided, IMO, and can be potentially dangerous, if one repeatedly tries to overcome the “handicap” of not being able to sing high.)
Fortunately, he didn’t give me higher soprano parts to sing in my voice lessons, but mostly contralto and some mezzo-soprano, and I didn’t damage my voice on the mezzo works.
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I slept poorly most of this last week, and today it caught up with me. We went to early church, then Bible study, and by the time we got home around 11:00 this morning, I was so tired I went to bed after changing out of my church clothes. Didn’t even eat lunch; I was a little hungry, but way more tired, and the bed looked a lot more appealing than the refrigerator. 😉
Fell asleep almost immediately; woke up 50 minutes later, didn’t feel all that rested, and was asleep again almost instantaneously, I think.
Woke up with the afternoon sunshine coming in under/aside of the blinds on my west bedroom window. Looked at the clock:
2:00 on the nose.
Three hours, minus only a few minutes, of sleep.
And I’ve still been tired. Not groggy tired from too much sleep, and not the same kind of tired as before I laid down, but not particularly energetic, either.
Hoping I can sleep well tonight, and that a 3-hour nap didn’t mess it up. I think it was early enough in the day that maybe it won’t be a problem.
I hope.
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First Arrow called home Friday after work. 🙂 Always a pleasure to hear one’s adult children on the phone — a real live voice — instead of just via words on a cellphone screen. 🙂
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