Stocking Up

Remember those boys who locked themselves in the library conference room last week? Well, I took a closer look at that door, and it turns out that it does have a key lock on the outside. So I didn't need to bruise my knuckles by knocking -- I could have just used my key and opened the door. I was so annoyed by the situation that I just didn't look closely. Anyway, now we've started locking the room when it's not being used, so kids can no longer get in there and lounge around. Problem solved!

Yesterday I was getting coffee in the staff lounge in the morning when I heard some co-workers on the cleaning staff debating the spelling and pronunciation of the word "mistletoe." (Our cleaners are mostly Portuguese, I think, and English is a second language for them.) It was funny hearing them dissect that word and try to understand the spelling -- after all, it is a weird word.

"The hardest word to spell, though, is 'diarrhea,'" said one woman.

I never thought about it before, but she's right. That's a weird word too.

I mentioned that Dave has been making homemade chicken stock. This has turned out to be a ridiculously long and involved process. Here's what it looked like on Sunday, when he was cooking down all the ingredients.

On the plus side, Dave is finally using that gigantic stock pot that I hauled home on the tube years ago. We've never had cause to cook with it, but when Dave picked up our deboned turkey from the butcher (that's another story), he decided to use the bones and giblets -- along with a package of chicken wings we bought by accident and some chicken leftovers -- to make stock.

What this involves is basically cooking the heck out of all the ingredients -- like, simmering it all for hours -- and then straining out the solid stuff. (I put the overcooked chicken meat, minus bones, out in the garden for the foxes, and it disappeared overnight.) This left us with three big bowls of broth, which we had to refrigerate until the next night, when Dave returned it to the stove to reduce until it fit into a single big bowl.

And that's where we are now -- with a big bowl of stock in the fridge. I have no idea what he intends to do with it. I admit I am a Philistine when it comes to culinary matters, so all this seems insane to me. "Can't we just buy a bouillon cube?" I asked him. (Questions like that elicit groans from the chef.)

(Top photo: Some fungus on a tree stump, found on my walk with Olga on Sunday.)

Autumn on West Heath

In comments on yesterday's post, some of you expressed astonishment that our freezer isn't frost-free. I'm not sure why that is -- I can only say that we didn't buy it! The fridge and freezer unit is, at this point, the only appliance that was in this apartment when we moved in more than nine years ago. Everything else has been replaced. It has some minor issues but if periodic defrosting is its only real demand, I can live with it.

Maybe Olga and I got a boost of energy from our newly defrosted freezer, because yesterday, we decided to have an adventure. We hadn't been to the West Heath in months -- about seven months, as best I can tell -- and I was missing it. That used to be one of our favorite walks, but these days, I'm hesitant to ask 13- (possibly almost 14-) year-old Olga to walk that far. Sometimes if I turn in that direction, she balks -- her way of telling me she's not up for it.

Yesterday, though, I decided to give it a whirl. Olga was game, the weather was good, and we had all the time in the world. Why not?

As you can see, we got there just fine, and the dog was just as happy as I was.

The autumnal trees had carpeted the forest floor with their rustling leaves. It felt very poignant to have this opportunity to walk around our old stomping grounds once again. I know I've said this before, but I wasn't sure we'd ever get back there, so the day felt like a gift.

We revisited all our favorite landmarks...

...like the Lulu trees, where Olga knows there's always a pool of fresh rainwater in a natural bowl formed by the roots. Can you see the carved "I (heart) Lulu" on the tree?

Then we went to Golder's Hill Park, where I thought I'd sit at the cafe and have a coffee.

Olga, however, had other ideas. In the past, I've always been able to tie her to an outdoor table, duck into the cafe, buy a coffee and then rejoin her. Yesterday, though, she began barking the minute I walked away from her. She didn't like being left even for a few minutes. Out of respect for the other people sitting outside with their much-better-behaved dogs, I gave up. Olga runs my life!

Instead we walked through the Stumpery, one of Olga's favorite destinations. It's always teeming with squirrels. She kept her eyes riveted on them, but she didn't lunge at the fence as she has in the past. (She did make a dash for a squirrel on the Heath, but came nowhere near it. The mind is willing but the body is weak!)

Olga paused to visit Wendy Taylor's sculpture "Gazebo," or as I call it, the pipe joint. (OK, I admit it, I posed her there. Olga couldn't care less about sculpture, unless there's a squirrel climbing around in it.)

Anyway, it felt like a very special day, revisiting our old favorite spots and seeing how well Olga seemingly remembered every log and path. She slept for hours when we came home and I gave her half a paracetamol (as instructed by our vet) at dinner to relieve any aches and pains. She's still asleep next to me as I write this.

Dave, meanwhile, spent the day making chicken stock in our kitchen. I'll save that adventure for another post!

Chill Out

I was surprised I could entice Olga to go on a walk yesterday morning. It was drizzly and gray and normally she balks at such weather. But I'd been cleaning all morning and I needed to get out of the house, so I'm glad she was cooperative!

I got quite a bit done. Aside from the normal vacuuming and whatnot, I launched a fairly major household task -- defrosting the freezer.

Here's what the project looked like at the outset. Do you like my unintentional self-portrait in that shiny pot?

Our freezer consists of plastic drawers that sit on those shelves, which have coolant coils running through them. The shelves tend to accumulate ice, as you can see, and when it builds up too much it's hard to slide the drawers in and out. I've been struggling with them lately so I knew it was time (even though I did this just two years ago, for the first time in seven years -- I'm not sure why it was already needed again, but whatever).

I emptied the freezer and stacked the drawers on the counter, covered with a towel to keep them as cool as possible. (We had ice cream bars in there, and I was a little afraid they might look like Godzilla by the time I was done.) I put towels on the floor and in the base of the freezer, shut off the circuit breaker to stop the cooling, and set pots of warm water on the shelves. And waited.

I'm sure you've all had to do this at some time or other, so none of this will sound very exciting. And it's not. It's a messy job but it's just a matter of time. After a couple of hours of throwing chunks of ice in the sink, wringing out towels and changing out the warm water periodically, everything was ice-free. I turned on the power and voila! A freezer I no longer have to fight.

And the ice cream bars came through fine. I had one last night and it looked perfectly normal.

After the defrosting project, Dave and I met one of his co-workers at this restaurant in St. John's Wood for brunch. (A bellini and eggs Benedict with avocado for me.) It seemed appropriate (though mystifying) that a polar bear is the mascot.

From there we went to see the high school musical, "Anything Goes," which was very good -- in fact, the best production I've seen at our school, I think. The girl who played the lead is particularly talented, and with music by Cole Porter you can't really go wrong. I enjoyed it!

A Busy Day at Work

I had a day like no other yesterday. I pulled nonfiction books for some 7th Grade classes, put up another book display (we have six displays running now, in addition to our regular displays of new books),  helped my boss update an infographics presentation for students, and organized the board games. While doing the latter, I realized one of our Uno card games was missing.

I found it spread out over a bunch of shelves beneath the stairs where the seniors sit between classes, like someone flung the cards at the shelves and left them where they landed. I picked up all the cards, brought them back to the library and organized the two Uno games so that they each had the proper number and assortment of cards. I'm going to keep Uno behind my desk from now on; kids will have to check it out to play it. Otherwise it keeps walking away.

All of that was in addition to the normal checking out books, which is busier now because we're about to go into Thanksgiving break. We have two days of school next week (plus a half day of professional development for teachers and staff) and then we're out until Nov. 27. Some kids left yesterday, particularly if their families are traveling.

Also, I had an interesting occurrence with a group of boys. A high schooler came to me and said he couldn't get his book bag, which was in the library conference room, because the door was locked. Now, the door only locks from the inside. I asked who was in there and he hemmed and hawed, so I went to the door and through the windows could see about 10 boys sitting around the conference table. I knocked so hard I actually bruised my knuckles. I was steamed. I told them they were never to lock that door, and I'm still trying to decide whether I should report them for disciplinary action. After all, weren't they bullying that student by keeping him from his bag?

At least pulling the nonfiction books was interesting. One of them was a book about The Beatles. It occurred to me that John, Paul, George and Ringo must be ancient history for these particular kids, who were born in 2011 or so. The Beatles, to them, are like Al Jolson to my generation. (By the way, did you know Al Jolson was Lithuanian? A bit of trivia I discovered while writing this post!)

When I posted the pic of the five-eyed mug a couple of days ago, some of you asked about the bowl sitting next to it. Well, here it is in its entirety. As of yesterday morning, it was still sitting out on that wall. I didn't take it because it's seen better days, and it's kind of big and heavy and clumsy, but it's unusual. Looks like someone's craft project or maybe a travel souvenir.

Olga says, "Is there food in it?!"

(Top photo: A shadowy doorway on my walk home from work.)

The Other Side

Well, the new dishwasher arrived yesterday as planned -- at about 10 a.m., which means I only wasted a couple of hours sitting around. It could have been worse. (And I didn't really waste the time, as I did get some cleaning and reading done.)

It was great to not have to hand-wash the dishes last night, though I feel like a whiny complainer saying that. I lived without a dishwasher in Manhattan for 10 years and it was never a problem, and I realize many, many people don't have one (including probably many of you reading this blog). But when I lived in New York I ate mostly soup and sandwiches, so I never really cooked much. Dave, on the other hand, is a trained chef and also a whirlwind in the kitchen, and he produces dirty dishes like West Virginia produces coal.

Anyway, while I was waiting for the dishwasher, I went out into the garden to take some pictures of our very red Japanese maple...

...as well as our Amistad sage, which is still blooming. I love that purple against the red and yellow of the autumn leaves. Soon I'll need to bring it in because it will not survive a frost.

As I was taking the photos, someone yelled "Hello! Hello!" I looked around and saw a man atop the roof of the apartment buildings behind us. It was the caretaker, and he asked about the tree-trimming plans. (Remember, he's been after us to trim the wild tangle of trees and bushes at the very back of the property.)

I told him I wanted to come over to his side of the wall and see what it looks like from there. So I met him on the street and he ushered me into the back garden of the apartments.

This is what they see from their side. He's paranoid about the condition of that retaining wall -- though it looked sound enough to me -- and he would ideally like us to take down both of those elder trees, but I'd rather not do that. I have some ideas for what I can tell the tree crew, though, to balance his wishes with our own. I think if I have them trim the shrubbery away from the wall and take out that overhanging ivy, he might be happy. Or happier, at least.

I keep asking myself if I would even be proceeding with this project if it weren't for him. Probably not. From our perspective, that area is overgrown, but not unbearably so, and I keep thinking about all the birds and squirrels and maybe even bats and who knows what else that might live in there. But we are in a city, not the countryside, and I'd like to maintain good relationships with the neighbors. It's a balancing act.

By the way, the five-eyed mug has been a hit with the kids in the library. Several of them have said they like it! Maybe we'll make it a prize in some future library contest.

Five Eyes

I'm stuck at home this morning waiting for the dishwasher. It's supposed to be delivered and installed between 7 a.m. and 12 p.m. Once again, it's one of these wide delivery windows that prevents me from doing so much as walking the dog, never mind going to work. Oh well. It is what it is.

At least I can clean the house and read "Barnaby Rudge." If they come at the very beginning of that window I might even make it to work more or less on time.

I found this hideous thing on my neighbor's garden wall yesterday morning -- the same place I found the iron. I guess they're cleaning out cabinets! Anyway, I took it to work because I thought it would amuse the kids. Turns out it's a character named Scott Squibbles from the Disney/Pixar movie "Monsters University." Now it lives on my desk, facing away from me so I don't have to look at it.

The Red Room

I often pass this building on my walks home from work, and I always wonder about that red light in the window of the lower apartment. Do they have a lamp with a red light bulb? Or maybe a regular lamp with a red shade? Does it give them a headache? It's very eye-catching from the street, I'll say that much. My photo doesn't quite do it justice -- it really is RED.

According to the appliance guys, we're getting a new dishwasher tomorrow. Woo hoo! Since our dishwasher died a few weeks ago, I've been doing all the dishes by hand and while that's not a terrible job -- I find it weirdly relaxing, having my hands in warms, sudsy water -- I'll still be glad to have a replacement. We haven't figured out who's going to be home for the installation. That depends on what time they want to do it, which we won't know until tonight.

Meanwhile, in the library, I set out all the National Book Award winners from past years (at least, the ones we have) in preparation for the announcement of this year's winner later today. It's no-frills as library displays go -- in fact, I'm not sure I'd even call it a display -- but it makes the books more visible. We have a surprising number going all the way back to 1950 ("The Man With the Golden Arm," by Nelson Algren) but we only have one of this year's finalists, so I hope that's the one that wins. This joins our Booker Prize display, which I previously mentioned -- it's on a different shelf. The Booker winner will be announced Nov. 26.

November is an exciting month for bibliophiles!