Public service announcement

Today I learned the very useful lesson that if you smell gas, you should call 911. I was only peripherally aware of a funny smell this afternoon before one of my neighbors waved me outside. My home office is in the living room, and I keep an eye on things outside while working but don't usually pay attention while I'm in meetings. My neighbor told me that she smelled something, I should call someone, and that she was going grocery shopping.

With that inauspicious comment, I googled my natural gas company and learned that calling 911 was the recommended action. And, in fact, when I called 911, they agreed. Fire trucks and the gas company quickly arrived. It turned out that the city, while replacing my street's sidewalks, had damaged my gas line, which filled my yard and started seeping into my front rooms. 

So today I learned many fun facts: you should immediately call 911 if you smell something odd. Natural gas does not smell precisely like rotten eggs, unlike the advertisements. Firemen do not wear masks, even when they're in your house. However, the gas company is highly invested in making sure you don't blow up, and will even avoid walking on your tulips and raspberries while doing that.

Scenes from Ohio

I hate my parents' stove. I think it's some kind of electric coil/glass top, which makes it easy to clean, but difficult to use. Some of the heating elements don't work, it takes forever to heat up a pan, and the controls are the opposite of intuitive. Last Christmas, I got fed up and threatened that if they hadn't replaced the stove by next Christmas, I was not cooking for everyone. My father apparently took this to heart, and while they haven't replaced the old stove, he did build a handy-dandy, propane-fueled, three-burner stove. It worked great, although you'll note that I was too short to use it properly. I think the plan is to buy something permanent and new, but if this is the option next winter, I can live with it.

As my years as a vegetarian roll on, I find I'm enjoying handling meat less and less. So my father made the meatballs while I made the mushroom balls. Everyone enjoyed their respective pasta dish.

My mother, a friend of hers, and I have been exercise buddies for the past few months. Although we all live in different places, we text each other every day with the accounting of whatever activity we've managed. I took lots of photos of our walks to add to the text thread. It was sunny but windy in Ohio until the last day, when Mother Nature played an April Fool's Day joke and dumped a few inches of snow on us.

Spring!

The DC region is absolutely at its finest in spring. All the trees are blooming and it's precisely the right temperature. It's also the time that my car traditionally fills up with dirt, although that is less a miracle of nature and much more my labor. I hauled and shoveled four carloads of mulch last week, covering all of the vegetable beds with the lovely rich black stuff. 

Even though I put down a tarp, my bits of my car will be filled with dirt for several months. When I know I'll be doing lots of compost transfers plus camping, I don't bother cleaning my car between times. A bonus of Covid is that no one can ride with me to be horrified at the state of my car's interior.

The broccoli and lettuce seedlings coming to life under my basement grow light. They have since been supplanted by all the warm-weather seedlings like tomatoes and basil.

Of course, now that Maryland is truly lovely, I'm driving to Ohio to visit my parents. It'll be a bit colder and muddier there, but I guess the parental hugs and not having to cook every meal for myself will more than make up for the lack of blossoms.

 

Leveling up

Sewing has been *the* project for me this winter. I wanted to complete all my unfinished projects, so I devoted my weekends to fabric and even turned the former renter's bedroom into a sewing room. In the process, I think I have leveled up. On the most recent garment, everything just clicked. When I read the pattern, I (almost) always knew what they were talking about. Ease the collar into place? No problem. French seams? No sweat. Even buttonholes, which used to terrify me, went smoothly. 

A 1960's blouse, with much lace trim, and a lined summer skirt.

1940's pajamas. They are super comfy, and I love the enormous WW2 era shoulders. These are pajamas that are ready for military action, even if I do not know how the models in the drawing looked so svelte in this pattern. While taking these photos, I discovered that there is no way to look elegant in flannel.

 

Thank goodness this is all done, because warm weather is nearly here and then I will not want to do anything besides play in the garden dirt.

Things That Make Me Happy (or Evidence of Completed Projects)

Although it is January, it is not all gray and gloom at my house. We just finished my team's biggest project, a conference for 1500 people, which was (of course) virtual this year. My summary: everyone had a good time and learned a lot, and I hope I won't have organize another virtual conference for a very long time to come. So here are all the good things that are happening.

A selfie with Millie Dresselhaus for the conference webpage.

Another frozen bike ride. I have fairly good cold-weather gear, except for my feet which are ice at the end of a three-hour ride. I am getting some wool socks to see if sheep have solved this problem.

Part my project, and part my father's project: I have successfully installed a bike rack so that I no longer have to cram the bike inside the car. My father designed and welded a the license plate holder  onto the bike rack, and I learned how to drill out rusted bolts and tap threads. 

Darwin the dog has recently taken up residence with my brother's family, far from his original birthplace of Turkey. Seen here, Darwin demonstrates that street dogs learn skills quickly. That stuffed toy didn't stand a chance. 

 

Ups and Downs

 I have a job that is pretty meeting-heavy. In a typical day, I have between three and ten meetings. Today, all three of my meetings were cancelled for different meetings and I had an entire day to work without needing to talk to anyone. This hasn't happened since April 10th of last year! (I had to go very far back in my calendar to find that.) It was delightful, and I hope it happens to me again in another eight months. 

I am glad that work is going well because my DIY life is going terribly. I keep starting projects, and then when I get utterly stuck, I take a break and start a different one. Currently I have a car to which I cannot attach a license plate, a nearly-complete blouse that is sewn for someone two sizes larger than me, window blinds that do not attach to the window, and the car back seat that is detached from the car. Stay tuned for next weekend to learn if I actually solve any of these problems, or just start something else...

Christmas in the new normal

Interstate travel is pretty limited right now, but my parents and I found a way to make it work. We all quarantined for two weeks (following rules that we agreed upon and wrote down, because I am nothing if not a project manager) and then I drove straight through to Ohio one evening. I changed my trip timing to avoid some winter storms, which turned out to be a good idea although I hate driving in the dark with a passion.

My mother and I took a walk almost every day. There are real advantages to owning 42 acres during the Covid times. It's easy to social distance when the only living creatures you'll run into are squirrels and deer.

Covid also led to a new family activity - haircuts for all. I cut my mother's, and my mother did the rest of them. I was so relieved that she liked hers, and I've never cut a woman's hair before (other than my own, and I am forgiving of myself :) I had my heart set on an authentic vintage cut. I was ready for a change from pinning my hair up every day. I was lucky that my mother was up for it, since it required repeated viewing of instructional videos and two hours of cutting with careful use of a ruler. Pretty much no one gets this particular haircut any more, even though it was *the* haircut of the 1940s and 1950s. This haircut, known as the Middy, looks good when you set it into pincurls, and only in that case. If you ever get lazy and wear it straight, it's a mullet.

Other than that, we cooked, ate, fixed things, and did a video Christmas gift opening with the rest of the family. Considering the times, it was a great holiday.

Everyone, together, at least in spirit.