Rock the Boat Radio

I remember seeing the advertisements on TV when I was in high school, living in the middle of the state. It was the early '80's, a time of weird hairdos. Disco was dying and rock'n'roll or cheesy soft rock were the choices.  WFNX burst onto the scene offering alternative music, something I'd never heard of and wouldn't be able to tune into until I moved north of Boston a few years later for college.  It was a small radio station, located in a small city on the north shore, but it gave a voice to anything and everything deemed not mainstream.

An eclectic mix of music and radio programs, in it's earlier days there was a wine buyer who would discuss wines, a radio show called "1 in 10" discussing LGBT issues long before they became as mainstream as they are today, and the music was a mix of new artists and new wave/alternative rock. The Ramones, The Smiths, Nirvana, The Pixies and Smashing Pumpkins all were on WFNX before one or 2 of their songs made it to the rest of the stations. It was how I found out about new music for many years.

 I was hooked and it became my first choice radio station from college until today.  Sure, I'd flip around the dial when there was a song I really couldn't stand, or a long string of advertisements, but I'd always return.  Sadly, WFNX announced this week that they are shutting down, all the djs have been let go and they are being sold to Clearchannel.

I understand the business decision; along with everything else, radio is changing due to the digital age and the internet. Why listen through advertisements when you can create your own personal radio station on Pandora? I'm sad because it's the end of an era, a goodbye to djs I'd listened and become attached to over the years. One more small, independent company going the way of the dinosaurs.

I suppose as one gets older life is full of these changes. Progress brushes the things that are obsolete aside to make way for new, more efficient and exciting things. I understand that is the way things work and know there is reason for things being this way. And I think it is a good lesson to appreciate things they way they are today, for we have no idea what tomorrow and the day after tomorrow will be like. That's what keeps life exciting, interesting and new.

Rain, Rain, You're Ok

Many years ago I read  that it was better to take outdoor photos on a cloudy day, rather than a sunny one. The less intense light allowed the colors to be more true and less washed out. It had never occurred to me and seemed counterintuitive, until I actually tried it. The colors really were more vibrant. Since then, I've tried to get garden photos on cloudy days and just this spring found how beautiful things can be after it rains. 

It's true everyone loves a sunny day and after a week of rain our moods certainly do suffer. It's good to be reminded that even rainy days are good for something, even if it's just getting a few photos to be looked at on another, brilliantly bright day.

Good Morning, Sunshine

Show me a cat and I'll show you the best place in the house to sit. They always know where the warmest, coziest, most comfy places are. 

All that research is exhausting. Yawn.

A stretch, a few turns and back to doing what cats do best. Time for some serious zzzzzzzzzzzz's. 

Farmville

A non-gardener would think us completely crazy; today Joe and I emptied the back of my car, rounded up every available bucket, pail and rubbermaid container we could find and drove 45 minutes north to a horse farm in Boxford. Our quest? Horse manure!  Just look at this beautiful stuff:

I expected to need to roll the windows down on the ride home but the stuff is so well composted there wasn't any odor of dung; just a sweet, earthy smell of dirt. No need to Fabreze the car!

The raised beds are filled with peat moss, compost, soil, vermiculite. I added fresh compost from our bins this spring, but I really wanted some horse poo to amend the soil. After several false starts on Craig's List, I found a place that would give it away- free!  What's not to love?

The green lettuce is growing well, but for some reason the red lettuce is way behind, though the seeds were started at the same time. Hopefully with the newly added manure the red ones will take off and catch up with their green neighbors.

The broccoli is finally starting to increase in size and the carrot seeds have sprouted. Once they get a little bit bigger they'll need to be thinned out.

The garlic seems to be doing well; it's very difficult for me not to dig down to check on it.    A practice in patience......

A new bed added this spring. This year it has potatoes, which are still underground. This was the real reason I wanted to horse manure- to hill around the potatoes as they grow so they'll produce more tubers. The 4 containers have what's left of the manure, saved just for this purpose. 

This may be a yearly trek if there is a big difference in the amount of produce we get from the garden. And if the plants are half as happy as I am about the manure we'll be just fine. 

Changes in Latitude

 

 Although this past winter was incredibly easy, with record low snowfall, it seemed interminable in other ways. Prior to my surgery Joe and I promised ourselves that once I was recovered we were going to go somewhere relaxing, where we could just sit, read books and de-stress. In reality, it doesn't work that way, a trip doesn't magically erase a difficult situation, nor does it make everything ok. It does, however, give you something to anticipate, look forward to, and is a wonderful escape from the realities of everyday life.

As a rule, when we travel, we like to do a lot of walking, sightseeing and soak in as much of the area as possible. While stimulating, trips like that can be exhausting. It felt odd to go somewhere and just relax, we both struggled with not cramming our days full of adventures other than picking a place to dine and taking a morning walk along the beach with our coffees.

The beaches were gorgeous; unlike New England's coastline, the beaches were white-sanded and stretched on for miles, circling the entire circumference of the island. No harbors, inlets or bays, just one continuous, shell-covered beach. The shells were spectacular: pinks, peaches, glistening white, conch shells (very difficult to find a good one that wasn't inhabited) and even a starfish.

The water was warm enough for swimming, feeling like bath water compared to our icy north Atlantic. Our first day on the beach we saw several people pointing to a spot in the water near the shore. A fin! To our shock and amazement people started swimming towards it- even running from the beach into the water! After a second we realized it was a dolphin- up north when someone sees a fin there is a mass exodus from the waves and plenty of screaming, for it's a shark. 

 We were fortunate enough to be able to see a snowy egret, a little blue heron, which we were told would most likely be extinct by the end of our generation, pelicans, as well as ospreys.  An experienced birder pointed out a little screech owl in the bushes, which we were lucky to see. 

 

 The sunsets were spectacular. We dined at a spot called the Sunset Grille one evening, which was delicious.  After the meal we were able to walk across the street and watch the sun sink below the line of the horizon.

No, a vacation can't erase experiences we view as negative, but it can provide a welcome diversion and some unforgettable sights. How very lucky we are to have so many beautiful places in the world. 

Patience Revisited

A busy medical week in that I had an exercise evaluation at MGH on Tuesday to assess how I'm doing after the surgery and see what modifications I can make to my exercise regimen.  The 6-minute walk test revealed that I'm actually doing better than I had thought, especially just 45 days after surgery. I walked a total of 605m in 6 minutes which put my pace at 3.7 mph. (Why the distance is measured in meters and the pace in mph rather than km, I'll never know) The bad news was that my O2 saturation went down to 86 on 3L of oxygen during the test, but still, no different than I had been 2 years ago, which was good.

The PT was quite pleased with how I'm doing, all things considered. It was suggested that I continue with the treadmill, start up at yoga again (yay!!!) and give it more time before re-incorporating strength training. My frustration had been that I was capable of doing both treadmill and weights, but then I'd be wiped out for days on end afterwards. Turns out I was rushing things a bit too much and need to give it several more weeks. I was also instructed to spot check my O2 sat more frequently when out and about (not just on the treadmill) to ensure my sats don't drop below 90, which will worsen the pulmonary hypertension. That's something I'd rather avoid.

Given the go ahead to return to yoga, I started back yesterday and was happy it didn't feel as difficult as I had anticipated. I've lost a fair amount of flexibility and strength, but know after a few weeks it will be much better. Patience! That has been my biggest challenge these past few months and something I need to work on developing much more of.

So, the weights will need to wait, but hopefully by summer I'll be  back into them and regain my strength. I'm so accustomed to recovering from a medical illness that this surgical experience has been quite a surprise in that it's so much slower-paced. Just another life lesson that things can't be rushed, they need to happen in their own time and that our minds are not the masters of our bodies.

Early Spring

There have been years when there has still been snow covering the ground well into the first weeks of April so to have daffodils blooming during the third week in March is a first in the 20 years we've lived in our home.  The 70's of last week are gone but the warm temperatures rushed things along and the forsythia have already bloomed. Now that we're back into the 40's Mother nature has reverted back to her usual pace.

I saved some garlic from the farmer's market and planted it last fall; it is up and growing well.  I ordered 3 different types of potatoes which arrived this week and are now chitting on the 3-season porch, to help them grow more quickly once they are placed in the ground. The onions that came with the order are already in the soil. Last year I learned that onions need the cool temps of early spring in order to grow roots. When planted too late they will sprout but not increase in size. Live and learn!

Garlic

I love the blue of the scilla which bloom in large clumps around the yard. I'm fortunate that the previous owner of the home was a wonderful plantswoman; she had quite a number of shrubs, perennials and bulbs planted in the gardens.

Scilla siberica

White peony shoots. I love the way they look like hands reaching for the sky

Another Chair Affair

I found this chair on Craigslist over the winter and thought the lines were pretty in addition to the price being right. I didn't care for the upholstery but planed to change it. Yesterday was that day. 

The worst part, as in the previous chair, was the removal of the old upholstery and staples, which took up most of the morning and early afternoon. First the back and arm pads were replaced:

I thought I might stop there and finish the next day, but once a project is begun I have a difficult time putting it aside. The seat went more quickly, possibly because I had a system down. I'm happy with the finished product and like the colors so much more than the original, which looked very blah in our bedroom. Now we have a perfect reading chair!

Our Bodies, Ourselves

Wherever you go, there you are. - Unknown

"Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds" - Bob Marley

This post has been a very long time in coming. There is a bottleneck somewhere in my mind and although there is much to say, the words are squeezed together and stuck; some things I'm still figuring out. Maybe if I start the process, whether or not it makes sense, things will start to flow again.

In the past 2 months the foundation of my world has been shaken; I've always thought myself fairly grounded but I felt as though I completely lost my footing and all the coming to terms I'd done with my mortality went out the window. If not for Joe, Wilson, my parents and close friends I wouldn't have had the strength to manage.  In the past, when recovering from  a health decline or crisis I've felt moments of gratitude, a special heightened awareness and appreciation for life, but the times were fleeting and once I was recovered that heightened awareness would dwindle.

Not this time; I feel so thankful and also much more aware of the fragility of life. Everyone who survives a shock says the same thing, "Life can change in a second, you just never know". One moment things are fine, you are going about your day and the next your world is upside down. Yet somehow nothing has changed. It's a trick to incorporate the new information into your world, learn and grow from it, allow it to make you a better person. That's what I'm still working on.

Regardless of what our bodies go through, we are in charge of our minds. We are the only ones who can decide whether we will be prisoners of our physical bodies or if we can break the bonds of our mental slavery and rise above it all.

With Heavy Heart

There are far better photos of Gomer than this one, but this was the one that jumped out at me when I was searching through the archives in order to write this blog.  He loved to be cozy and wrapped up in a tight space, so much so that when he was younger he broke several fabric-lined baskets by trying to squeeze his large bod into them.  Over the past few months he divided his time between an undersized bed by the radiator and "his" bed in the living room.  Both cozy fur-lined cups that he was able to snuggle down into, providing a cozy nest, which he loved.

Sunday night at 11pm our sweet Biggin was euthanized after a long, happy and adventurous life.  He was 17 and showing his age over the past year; a seizure Sunday afternoon was the definitive sign we needed. The frightened look in his eyes following the seizure helped us know that he didn't want to be put through that again. His devoted vet met us at the office at 10:45 pm just so we didn't have to put him through another night. A final act of above and beyond kindness after many years of care.

I've written of the manipulation we used on Joe to adopt him so I won't belabor that story. Suffice to say I'm glad we gave him an additional 16 years that he wouldn't have otherwise had if he had stayed at the shelter. He loved the outdoors, both he and Benji bolting like racehorses out of the starting gate first thing in the morning. If it was still dark, all the better, there would hopefully be some night creatures to chase.  Even in his last year, weather permitting, he would always do one lap around the yard, sniffing a bush here, marking another there, to warn off any trespassers. His favorite spot to sleep was on the side kitchen steps where the sun shone the longest and warmed him even on a chilly day.

He had enough personality for several cats. Before he became arthritic, he used to love to ride around on Wilson's shoulders, draped like a feline stole. It required a heavy barn jacket to protect him from Gomer's unintentional scratches; he was just trying to hold on. He was a snugly lap cat, deciding from the moment we brought him home from the shelter that Wilson was "his" human; he slept on Wilson's bed at night from his adoption during Wilson's kindergarten until the time he left for college.  He was always overjoyed and had plenty of greeting meows and purrs each time Wilson came home for a visit or vacation. The buddies were reunited again.

This morning the house seems strangely quiet without his occasional loud meows and the click of his nails on the hardwood. When I go into the office to use the vest, my eyes immediately go to the place he slept by the radiator, only to see bare floor and no Gomer.
I'm thankful to have the girls to distract me from his absence, but know that they won't be able to fill the space left now that he is gone. There will never be another like him, nor would I want there to be.  We had great years together and this really feels like the end of an era, but I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. Rest easy, sweet Gomer. I'll always miss you.

More Machine Makeovers

                                                                         The Before:

1904 Singer 66:  Before soaking the bobbin mechanism in Evapo-rust. The machine worked, but was noisy and looked pretty grungy.

The After:

After a good soak and some polishing with metal cleaner the parts are restored back to their shiny condition and the sewing is much quieter.

Another example of what this cleaner can do: the knob on the left was soaked overnight and polished; the one on the right was just polished. I was shocked to see the difference! You can bet I'm soaking all 4 overnight tonight. The cabinet is going to be real purty once the drawers are urethaned and put back on. 

The Before:

1951 Singer 15-91
A great gear-driven machine that will sew through practically anything, it leaves a little bit to be desired in the looks department. The decals on the front of the bed have been worn away from so much use.

The stitch-length indicator's numbers have been rubbed off and the plate is scratched and dull. 

The After:

Stitches per inch are once again visible after many unsuccessful tries at repainting the plate. Who knew spray paint wouldn't stick to galvanized steel? And who knew the plate was galvanized steel in the first place? Well, now I do.

Repainted bed of the machine with brand-spankin' new decals. Thankfully, spray paint sticks to cast iron. It's not perfect but it is much better and I'm pleased with the results! 

Old Cats, New Tricks

Ever since I picked up a book on toilet-training cats years ago I've been intrigued by the idea. The author claimed that it was possible to toilet train a cat by incrementally moving the litter box close to the toilet, raising it up, placing it on, then in, the toilet and once the kitty is used to this spot for doing his/her business, finally removing it.  He made it sound quite reasonable and the thought of not having to scoop "treasures" out of the litter pan is appealing. The girls are smart enough and willing to learn new things so I figured we have nothing to lose (except the use of the downstairs bathroom while the training is going on!)

Over the course of 2 weeks we moved the box next to the toilet, raised it up on books gradually so that it was at the same height, and then placed it on top. So far, so good. Granted, we do have 2 other litter boxes in the basement which we'll keep there for Gomer and so the girls don't decide to leave 'surprises' around the house if the training doesn't go well, but there is plenty of evidence that the box on the toilet is being used regularly.

Today I replaced the litter pan with a small tray that fit perfectly down into the toilet bowl; this is a big step as it is much smaller than the girls are used to. Hopefully they'll be in the habit and will continue to use it.  If not, I'll need to go back to the bigger box set on the toilet for a few more days and try again with the tray next week. With any luck, in another week or two they'll be making deposits into the toilet without any litter there.  Best of all, we'll have the use of our downstairs bathroom again.

Admitting the Problem

Hi. My name is Kim and I'm an addict.

They say the first step to recovery is to acknowledge the problem. Well, consider it acknowledged.

In my defense, one of my best friends is a total enabler. She's not exactly my supplier, but did call me up and let me know where to find it. Even offering to put down a deposit for me and drive me to pick it up.  I have no willpower and was unable to resist. See? It's not completely my fault. Really.

The funny thing is, I don't feel bad about it. Isn't there supposed to be some kind of guilt, or remorse? Concern for what my family is going through? I have none. Just that endorphin rush which, I suppose, is part of the addiction.

My substance of choice is cast iron, and in this case, a wooden cabinet and treadle.

Yes, I did it. Another machine. I swear, this one is my last. (I know, that's what I said after the featherweight, but this time I REALLY mean it)

How could I resist? A 1904 Singer 66 treadle machine with Egyptian Lotus design on it- stunning! Mary found it tucked in a corner of a musty smelling antique shop, a bit dusty and in need of a good cleaning. Still working, according to the shop owner, it had belonged to a 92 year old woman who had just died. Clearly, it has seen a lot of use, and at some point was converted to electric with a motor and light.

After heaving it into the back of the car and getting it home the stripping began. I wish I had taken a 'before' photo but I was in such a hurry to clean her up I didn't think of it. The ironwork base and treadle were quite rusty but cleaned up fairly well with a liberal spray of WD-40. The cabinet was in decent condition but definitely needed stripping. Have I mentioned how much I love my hand-held sander? It was fairly quick work and I was able to get the top and large drawer sanded down to bare wood and stained all in one afternoon.  I need to do the 4 side storage drawers but they shouldn't take too long.

I removed the machine from the cabinet and will clean and oil, and wax it. The decals are in fairly good condition for their age. After a few days of oiling the exterior I'll use some nice caranuba wax on it to give it a shine and protect the finish.

The shop owner gave me the name of a man in Salem who used to work for singer who is a good source for antique machine parts. The machine will need a new belt for both the motor and treadle as well as a rubber ring for the bobbin-winding mechanism but otherwise seems to be in good working order.  I can't wait to finish the cabinet and take her for a test sew!  

Mouse in the House

Sometimes life has a way of delivering exactly what you need, even if you are a cat.

One morning this week when I came down to make coffee, I noticed all 3 of the kitties in the kitchen. Unusual, but I didn't think too much of it, making a beeline for the coffee maker. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gomer  lurch awkwardly across the room. Oh no, I thought, is he having a seizure or something? Lo and behold, he was after a mouse, which he then paraded proudly around the room, carrying in his mouth. Oh lordy!

He carried it into the living room and put it down, presumably to further enjoy the chase. The mouse ran directly under the couch. It must have been quite a sight, the 3 felines and myself all peering under the couch from different angles.

Mr Mouse made a dash for it and within seconds Gomer had him in his mouth, doing the victory lap, only to set him down again.  More chasing ensued. You'd never have guessed Gomer was 16, the years fell away as he did what cats love to do best. Gracie and Millie seemed willing to take a back seat and let Gomer have his moment in the sun. They enjoyed the chase but deferred to him.

Finally I was able to corral the little creature in a plastic cup. He was definitely befuddled and terrified but I didn't see any wounds on him. I brought him outside where he took a second to get his bearings and then ran off under a pile of leaves. I hope he survived and wasn't any worse for the wear. And that he learned his lesson to stay out of our house!

For the rest of the day Gomer seemed to be on a kitty high, reliving his eventful morning. Maybe it's the medication, or the mouse encounter, or both; whatever it is his appetite is  better and he's definitely more active. Who knew a little thing like a mouse could be such good medicine for an old codger?

Merry Christmas to Me

Ever since I became aware of their existence I've always admired and had a secret longing for the Singer Featherweight. Years ago when I was taking a quilting class a fellow student had one and the teacher ooooh'd and aaaah'd over it.  The class immediately gathered around and was given a rundown as to why these machines are so coveted amongst quilters and machine enthusiasts.

They are small, weighing in at only 11 lbs and fit easily into a carrying case. Having been made before the age of "everything is plastic" they're all metal (except for the drive belt) and require very little maintenance. Because the machine is so simple, they are easy to repair; there were quite a few produced from the 30's to the 60's so parts are readily available. In addition to being sturdy little workhorses, they are very pretty, with their shiny black enamel surfaces and gold lettering and scrollwork. Their value is determined not by their ability to sew, but by the condition of the enamel and gold paint.

I happened to be browsing ebay when a Featherweight in what looked to be very good condition appeared, which was reasonably priced. Because these machines are highly desirable and collectible, they can be quite expensive. I closed my eyes and put in a bid once I realized that the location was a mere hour and a half from our house. I decided to leave it to the fates and not bid or check again until the next morning.

Lo and behold, I won the auction! Buyers remorse immediately set in and I was sure it would be in much worse condition than I expected or that there was some major mechanical problem with the machine. Expectations lowered, I arranged to pick it up over the weekend.

I was relieved and delighted to find that it was indeed in very good condition and after a bit of fiddling with the bobbin and upper thread  tensions it sews perfectly, like the day it was made. The motor truly purrs. The machine needed a bit of cleaning and there was some old tape residue on the platform, but once that was removed and a coat of wax applied, it  looks beautiful. There are a few scratches in the paint, as you'd expect from a 60+ year old machine that has been used, but the scrollwork and lettering are in great shape. The provided manual gives detailed instructions on oiling the moving parts and where to grease the gears. I love that it's possible to provide my own maintenance for the machine. If well taken care of, it should be running smoothly for another 60 years.

In order to take it for a test run, I finished sewing the Christmas gift for my mother-in-law on it. Amazing!  Does this mean I'm not going to use my gorgeous, computerized, state-of-the-art modern machine? Heck no! I love my Janome which still runs perfectly after  7 years. There are certain advantages to modern technology and I love working with it. Though it is portable, it's very heavy and not something I'd want to lug around, if not for the weight then out of fear that I'd upset some of the computerized parts with too much jostling.

I have no problem rationalizing this frivolous purchase. I didn't need another, since I have a terrific sewing machine that has never given me a day of trouble (along with 2 other antique Singers.....hmmmm, do I have a problem?)  I will eventually downsize and sell the other Singer machines, but for now I'm just so excited to have a little piece of coveted quilting history.