Desires

 

The built-in wine cooler remains unidentified, no way to search for a manual and turn it off. How very much better to put in an electric oven, efficient, precise and uninvolved with the propane tank? Here's the perfect one, a European model available for America. Comes with an installation option. 

After three weeks, the delivery day nears and a pre-installation checklist comes with instructions to measure the place where the old oven resides.  Let me interrupt by saying that there was no option online to denote a kind of appliance switcheroo - nowhere to indicate a more complicated kind of installation, just remove and haul away the old and install the new. I was dreaming. While I'm here, calling Best Buy to ask questions about installation triggered the automated, self service customer support to insist that I choose between making or cancelling an installation. Calling me "sir" telling me she understood that I wanted to talk to a technician, but insisting: first choose.  Talking to a polite offshore customer support person, he realized he would need to redirect my call and hung up.

Close examination of the new oven specifications reveals that the new appliance requires a new power voltage. So the checklist grows longer: route 220 V, build a cabinet off the ground and clear a path for the installation. The BB chatbot offers a shorter route to contact a technician and eventually one rules the installation more than a BB delivery could manage and cancels the haul away.

The day before delivery, an unidentified number calls to say he would be installing the oven, is unimpressed with my email of cancellation and tells me to call BB. I will go to the store instead.

The handyman knows an electrician who arrives, goes to the hardware store and runs a 220 V line while I go to BB to pick up my oven.  Turns out that BB software doesn't allow cancelling an installation without cancelling the order, so the sales rep cancels the order, and sells me my oven again.

The handyman has no time to install for two weeks. Found another one having time in one week.

Twofer

 

Very much tidying to do for a while, I looked for a spot to put my laptop - this very instrument of blogging - and put it on the mattress even as I laid the sheets and blankets thinking I would remember. Out into the shed went the sleeping bags, into the Goodwill pile went the bracelets and PJ bottoms - a task checked off the list. Now for blogging about Ramona. Where is my laptop? Not at the table. Not in the bedroom.

Here it is. The couple who owns the house we're buying has an upright piano which will stay, and I put my spinet piano on Craigslist and haven't heard a peep. I had to move it out from under the TV and put it in a new place:

The cats suspected a move and spooked pretty badly.  Through all the foreboding, Ramona, able to focus on canned cat food, still sits at my door waiting for me to walk down the hall toward the kitchen where the canned cat food might be accessed. I walked toward her to fetch some tape and she jauntily trotted down the hall and under the keyboard of the piano like it was a bower to the food bowl.

Maybe she will be fine.

Hopefully developing self esteem

 

In the whirling, hot malstrom of the beginning, love engenders a desire

A form is born and grows quickly

Joining creation in beauty and terror

Going into the final mystery

Lost Pieces

 

I want to tell you this story. Afraid you might get bored, I'm telling it in third person. She assembled the main characters of the puzzle, then the border, pushing hundred of pieces out of the way to situate the outline. Most of the blue pieces were in and since some of them fit into surprising spots, she only slightly worried about the one by the blue flask in the upper right corner. When the number of pieces left was less than 50, she arranged them according to shape. The puzzling went faster. An outline of a two inny/two outty puzzle piece appeared, and, much to her consternation, nothing in either of the two color categories fit. She looked under the table, around the baseboards, under the laptop and all around - nothing. She checked the vacume canister - nothing. Eliminating most probable causes left her with one. During the border asssembly, pieces seemd to fit where another piece actually fit. And voila! One pesky piece looked OK where it was, but it wasn't the right location. Once she took care of the error, the rest of the pieces flew into place and the picture completed.

Where is the blue flask that had her worried you ask? Forgotten. Two days later, while sweeping the kitchen, she came across a puzzle piece, surely not one of the 1000 pieces from the recently completed one. But yes, she turned it over, saw the blue and put it into the blank spot she missed.

Pattern

 

Moving means bringing necessary and useful stuff and then not finding it. I ordered a printing press and had it sent to another home where I'll be staying for a while.

I couldn't find my favorite carving tool until after finishing the linoleum sheet, then I couldn't find the white ink for too long.

Couldn't find the refried beans for too long too.

One World - Many Timezones

 

I don’t feel like myself until I sleep two or three REM cycles in the middle of the day. Considering the feral, crabby, disappointed self not as real as the considering, making, night owl self. Here is why: for 16 days my hours were busy. Then this happened:

Back to the garden.

Cleaning

 

The reason I run the dishwasher