Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest. During the growing season, and with all these medical appointments we have to go to, some of my “rest” gets done praying in the garden and on the tractor. We watched our church service remotely again yesterday. We are not staying away out of fear...we are staying away out of an abundance of caution. We cannot afford to let either one of us get sick and not everyone wears a mask at church. Yes, we run into the store where not everyone wears a mask, but that is not in a closed room seated for 90 minutes...social distancing or not. It’s a personal choice and we don’t feel any less Christian by worshipping at home.
Pumpkin the kitty isn’t a kitten anymore, but she is still small...and feisty. She has never been a real snuggle bunny, although she will let you hold her till she decides it’s time to bite. Then you put her down in a hurry. Sometimes she stalks your feet and pounces as you walk by, giving you a solid chomp on the shin. Sometimes you don’t like her much, but most of the time she is tolerable and some of the time she is just too darned cute for words.
Our day was busy from beginning to end yesterday. We had an appointment in town early, then we drove out to the farm. I thought my sandals were out there under the bed but no such luck. I think they’re still packed away with my camping stuff. I’ll have to look in the building. We stopped at a roadside stand and picked up a few more tomato plants that we’ll put in today. We went to the open air produce market in town and picked up a few things...fresh strawberries just picked from over in Ohio, a wonderful cantaloupe, some fresh corn on the cob. Then PT and home.
With any birth comes pain. As the birth becomes imminent, the pain is more pronounced. The contractions come closer and closer till you can hardly get a breath in between them. We are reaching a tipping point and something has to change. Something has to be born into the world. In the real life scenario that is playing out in front of us, we have to remember...we DO have some choices we can make. We still may not get the outcome we hope for, but we can try. We can educate ourselves. We can exercise our right to vote. We can do more listening and less yelling. We can stand up in support of those who are marginalized by society.
When I was growing up in the mid to late ‘50s, the Civil Rights Movement was gaining speed. One of my first friends in grade school was a little black girl named Lisa. Lisa went on to become a pastor and actually performed our marriage ceremony out in our field when Mr. FixIt and I got married.
My aunt that recently passed away was a Head Start teacher in Washington, DC in the ‘50s. She showed me photographs that had the words “Colored” and “Whites” over the drinking fountains in the school where she taught. I couldn’t understand what they were talking about. My grandma sat me down and told me under no uncertain terms was I to EVER treat anyone differently because of the color of their skin. Therefore...all these many years...I’ve thought I was not racist.
Once I finished mowing at the Ponderosa, I spent a little time in the kitchen preparing some homemade real vanilla extract to steep. I will be giving them as Christmas gifts, so I place three vanilla beans in each bottle...two cut beans into one inch pieces and leave one whole so it looks pretty. I poured a cheap vodka over them and sealed each bottle. I stored them away in a cool, dark cupboard in the dining room. Then, once a week, I’ll shake them up to keep things loose in there. By Christmas, the extract should have a deep, rich taste from the Madagascar beans and smell divine.
I love Sundays. We had homemade toasted English Muffins with our breakfast yesterday and ate as we watched online church. Our church started back to in-person services this week. You had to go online to reserve a space and they only filled to 30% capacity. We won’t be going to any in-person services until there is a vaccine for this virus. We had Covid antibody testing done last week because we were both under the weather in February then Mr. FixIt had his stroke. Since stroke is one of the known side effects and, since I’m trying to find anything that might have cause it, we had the testing done locally. No real surprise that we were both negative, but I felt we needed to cover every base. We can’t risk him getting Covid, and there wasn’t a mask to be seen on anyone they showed in today’s service. As long as we can watch from home, that’s the way it will stay.
I am seldom at a loss for words, but yesterday about did me in. From hateful politics to the death and destruction of natural disasters. From long weeks of a horrifying pandemic to the wanton disregard of Memorial Day revelers. From the tragic pictures of a man held under the knee of a police officer till he died...on camera...to the pictures of hordes of people rioting in the street. The sheer chaos just breaks me.
I’ve been itchin’ for the kitchen all week and finally got to spend the day in my “food lab”. I started out putting soy beans on to soak so I could make tofu before the end of the day. I meant to set them out the night before, but I forgot. In order to make them plump up faster, I covered them with hot water to give them a jump start, then set them aside while I went on to the next idea.
I thought for sure, after having to spend all that time in lockdown here at home, I would never look forward to an “at home” day again. But, I was wrong. Yes, I was supposed to make Sourdough English Muffins yesterday. Did that happen? Ummmm, no. I could tell you it’s because I haven’t found a recipe I like yet, but the real reason was, I enjoyed watching a movie with Mr. FixIt yesterday afternoon...something I so rarely do. It was a suspense thriller with Tom Hanks. Who doesn’t love Tom Hanks? So I “forced myself” to sit through it, then I took a nap. It felt like sheer decadence and I felt like a million bucks when I got up.
