Half cooked

A repairman has come three times and still the airconditioning is broken in my office and the living room. It seemed as if he had fixed it last week but the day after he left, it died again. It’s hard to work, but I have no choice. Being overheated doesn’t help my temper or my output. I managed to write two poems this week and to begin serious work on what I’ll be doing during the workshop sessions – as opposed to the conferences. I have to get through it all. My back ablation doesn’t seem to have done much for me. If only the weather would cool down, I could walk and see if that would help my lower back. We have cleared out the dead cucumbers and the dying paste tomatoes – about half of those plants. The tomato production has slowed way down, just enough for us. I’m drying them at present. I’d like to preserve three 16 oz. containers of dried tomatoes. So far, just one, but the dehydrator is full up and running. This week I planted endive, escarole and six kinds of lettuce seeds, radishes, arugola and giant red mustard seeds in my raised beds. The only way to work in the garden is to get up very early. Hermine turned out to be all hype but we did get some highly desirable rain from it, athough not nearly the two inches I’d hoped for. Schwartzie is making himself at home. He is sometimes a little much for Mingus, although they are good buddies. Willow has fallen in love with him, plays with him, cuddles with him. After all, Willow is only a little more than a year old. His eyes have lost their baby blue, but it’s hard to see what color they are becoming – at the moment sort of grey-green-yellow. He is still fuzzy. I’m encouraging everyone who comes in the house to interact with him, pick him up, play with him, pet him because this is the critical time for socialization. If we want to cat who is not afraid of other people, he has that window between 8 and 12 weeks to form that habit. Xena watches him. He is wary of her but she hasn’t caused him any trouble. When Woody couldn’t find Schwartzie last night, Xena went with him searching and found him for Woody, who wanted to feed him. Schwartzie plays till he drops. He likes to sleep in our laps. I am still overloaded with eggplants and finding new recipes for them; the same with beans. I am using middle east cookbooks mostly, also Italian. Every other day, I make a new eggplant recipe and every other day, I make a new bean recipe. I shouldn’t complain. We’ve been eating very well indeed and healthy Mediterranean food. Tonight we’r eating out with friends at the Bookstore Restaurant, which is giving a percentage of their take to the Friends of the Council on Aging, of which I’m a member. We raise a good portion of our income from Wellfleet Dines Out, as many local restaurants take part. We use the money for programs at the Senior Center, for the local food bank, the local homeless program, fuel assistance, for the van that takes those who can’t drive to doctor’s appointments all over the Cape, to Orleans for shopping, to the library and other places around town and many other services. I have persuaded Woody to join in my efforts to get rid of objects, clothes, books and medicines we don’t use and no longer need. It has taken a lot of persuasion but now he is into the program. We hauled 4 boxes of books and papers out of his room. I had already gotten rid of 3 boxes from my office. My papers are not a problem as I go through them constantly to send a box every six weeks to the University of Michigan graduate library since they bought my papers. I have to say it’s a dusty activity and I sneeze a lot. I go through my clothes several times a year, but Woody has clothes he hasn’t worn in twenty or more years. It’s an ongoing project. If I haven’t worn something [in its proper season, of course] in a couple of years, I try it on. Usually there’s an obvious reason-- doesn’t fit, isn’t flattering, way out of fashion, has a stain or a rip. If it checks out okay, I put it back into circulation. I enjoy pretty clothes – probably because I grew up in ill fitting handmedowns or ghastly things bought on sale and for years as a young adult, dressed from rummage sales and thrift shops. Also, I like to dress to please Woody.