Notes from Alexis: Ink stories and bread stories, such trials of life.
Ink, ink, – oceans of ink, and not a drop for the printer. At least that is what I thought a week ago. I tried the Osmogord ink, and it was permanent. I knew I was in trouble when I couldn’t wash it off my fingers. I went to bed in a blue funk.
When I woke up I had an inspiration—-watercolor! I told Dad, and he had all kinds of objections–just because he sees his role to oppose whatever I think up. I talked to my artist friend, J.H., and two things bothered her. First she said it was “Very expensive, and might have grainy bits in it.” Well, I knew it wouldn’t cost any $20.00 a tube, and I could strain it like I did with my fabric dyes.
I hied myself down to the art store and by golly it is expensive. A tube about the size of my little finger cost $1.95 for the cheapest one, and nearly $6.00 for the expensive one. I have no idea what it would dilute down to, but still it would be cheaper than an ink cartridge. They had washable ink, but nothing in black. I decided to go to Gallery 803 and see what they had. I had called some time back and they had none, but they might have gotten some. The young gal there said no, and I turned to walk out, because that was what I expected to hear. Then I saw a friend taking a painting lesson so I stopped to talk to her and the old lady (God bless old ladies) went over to check the supplies to make sure, and there was a bottle of NON-PERMANENT, non-launderable ink. I screamed and hugged her.
I haven’t tried it in the printer, but it looks and acts just like the printer ink, and I will not hear a word about it not working. It IS going to work, do you hear me! I’m not brilliant, but I am stubborn.
Now on to a bit of human nature that I have learned about, because of the bread baker. What I have found out, is that perfectly lovely people, who would give you the shirt off their back will take advantage of you, over bread. They do it shamelessly without a qualm, without a quiver. I’ll give you two “for instances.”
We sent a bread sample home with J. and little J., when they came over. A month or so later they came out to show us J.s new pickup – and we sent another bread ‘care package’ home with them.
About a week later we kept little J. over for the weekend, and he hit the door asking if we had bread. On Saturday I made up some of Eileen’s bread (one of our favorites, and now renamed J.s Bread) but instead of baking it in the baker, J. and I cut out some with the English muffin rings, and put some in 3×5 loaf pans. Then we heard the story of the first two bread packages we sent home with them.
It seems that J. and his friend J. ate most of the first one that same night, while little J. was asleep. Joe gave the second sack of bread to his girlfriend, so little J. didn’t get what he considered his fair share of it, either. As he patted out the dough, he said with finality, “This time I’m going to be the boss of the bread.”
My second story is about Mom. I have now baked 45 loaves – that’s right 45 batches of bread! Well, Dad has made some French bread, he is king of the French bread.
We’ve given several loaves to friends, and have been generous in the giving. You can be generous when you’re rich. Mom had been coming over every day and helping herself, and I hadn’t been paying too much attention to it, which was fine, until I slowed down and stopped for a while, and saw that the bread was disappearing at a fearful pace.
I watched them both, and saw that Dad and I were eating 2 or 3 slices each a day and she was eating THE REST OF THE LOAF- about three fourths of a loaf a day! So I became the boss of the bread, and told her that from now on we would divide the bread up into thirds and she could have one third.
Oh, she was pissed. She stomped off home and pouted awhile, but I held firm, and she finally decided a third was better than none.
So there it is. We are basically animals at heart, and just as you can’t take an acorn away from a pig, you have to watch your bread, around bread pigs.
I am now about half through with the index for Volume 2 of the Tuttles(genealogy book), and since I have decided to redo one of the volumes, this means I am about half through with the project. It has taken me 14 months, and I have pushed so hard I’m about pooped. I love the project, but I am wearing down.
Oh yes, before I forget, I must tell you where envy and jealousy has gotten me. I was green with envy because you have a sun room and I don’t, so I got busy and figured out how to convert the back deck to one. We have put greenhouse fiberglass over the end, next to the front room, leaving the front side open. I got some nice chairs, and three pots of fuchia’s, waiting in the greenhouse. Then we got a barbecue like yours. We firmly intend to keep up with the Jone’s or at least the Campbell-K’s. Don’t you love it!
Well, got to take Hanzi dog to the beauty parlor today, so have to run.
Write soon and take care.