the tale of the cracked drip pan

When we were cooking breakfast on Saturday, the fridge made a strange noise.  It kind of clanked for a minute and then we heard the sound of streaming water.

Matt and I dealt with it in our typical fashions: I turned up the music because I employ the same "if you can't hear the weird noise it's not happening" strategy in my car and it works just fine.  Meanwhile Matt pulled the fridge away from the wall to check for leaks and then got out the owner's manual.

After a few minutes we chalked it up to a fluke and went on with our lives.  Later that afternoon I ran to the grocery store and called Matt to ask what kind of fruit cups he wanted, and he said "peaches in sugar-free strawberry gel, but I gotta go, the fridge is leaking a lot."

It took me a minute to process the leaking fridge because I was trying to wrap my mind around his request of peaches in sugar-free strawberry gel.  But things really sunk in when I got home and saw a vast array of tools on the kitchen floor, a pool of water, and no Matt.

I figured he'd gone to the hardware store because desperate times call for a trip to Lowe's, and judging by the fact that the hunting knife he uses to clean pheasants was lying on the floor beside the oven, it seemed to be a desperate time.

He got home a few minutes later with a fix for the problem, which was a cracked drip pan.  I half-halfheartedly offered assistance, and when he didn't jump right on my offer I did what any wise wife would do and got the heck out of dodge.

I decided to go to the library and then for a walk around the grounds of a local cathedral and some old estates because one of us should be able to relax on a Saturday afternoon.

It was a nice day and I spent the time imagining that the rich people who lived in those mansions probably never had to worry about a cracked drip pan or be humbled by the amount of dust that gathers behind the fridge that you don't think about until you have to move it.

When I got home from my walk, the fridge was fixed and the kitchen was back in order.

So I guess our own little castle isn't so bad after all.

have i moved to california?

Well, it's currently feeling like May instead of February here in Pennsylvania, and all I have to say is I'm really lichen this weather.

(Just a little fungi humor.)

(I couldn't resist.)

Three day weekends in February are great.  And when the temperatures are in the sixties?  That's just the best. I took three long walks in the beautiful sunshine, went shopping with my mom, Matt and I cooked three delicious meals thanks to a free Hello Fresh box, we got some house projects crossed off the list, I finished a book, kept the windows open all day and savored the fresh air, and spent the day with my cousins and Annabelle yesterday.

And then today, my commute took 3 total hours and I got a parking ticket, so hello reality.  I ran out to move my car at 10:45 and there was a car stopped in the street next to mine.  I wondered how long I was going to have to wait for them to move before I could pull out of my spot, and then I realized it was the parking enforcement officer.

Nuts.

He wrote the ticket at 10:44, one minute before I came out.

   

So instead of focusing on that, I'm just remembering how fun and relaxing this weekend was. 

 

Linking with Erika and Ashley  

we need a peephole. and a no soliciting sign.

Well, here I am with a thrilling report on the winter weather in southeastern Pennsylvania.  We haven't had much snow or bitter cold, but what we have had is a ton of rain and gray skies for weeks on end.

The past few days have been especially rainy, and I'm currently looking out at a pool of standing water in our backyard thanks to poor drainage.  It's not quite as bad (yet) as the Presidents' Day Flood of 2016, which necessitated a call to the police department.

Anyway, a few weeks ago it poured all weekend.  When there was finally a break in the deluge, Matt went out to the chicken coop in the back of our yard because it appeared from the kitchen window there might have been a slight flood.

While he was out back, the doorbell rang.  I answered because I thought it might be a neighbor in need of storm-related help.  Because don't your neighbors walk to your house and ring your doorbell during a rainstorm?

Mine never have, but there's a first time for everything.

It turns out that it was not a neighbor, but a Verizon sales rep who wanted to inform me that Verizon lines were recently installed in our neighborhood and would I like to sign up for Fios?  The conversation felt like a full circle moment, because last year when Verizon started their installation process, I called the police department because of a suspicious low-hanging wire.

We canceled our Comcast cable last year, and haven't really missed it, but we'd seen  few commercials for Verizon Fios and casually talked about trying it.  I told the sales rep that I wanted to talk to my husband before I signed up for anything.  He asked if he was home, and I said yes, but that he was very busy out in the backyard.

The man stood there, in the driving rain, and looked at me like I was crazy.  I was almost positive he was thinking, "Wow, that's a lame and truly unbelievable response."

So, because I'm an over-explainer and was feeling judged by his suspicious look, I said, "He really is out in the backyard.  He's back there because we have chickens.  And he had to check on the coop in all this rain and wind.  And anyway we don't even have cable right now so we aren't in a rush to sign up."

He cautiously stepped away.

I should have told him I had to get back to my butter churning.

Fast forward to yesterday, another day of downpours.  After work, Matt got dressed in his waterproof full body camo hunting gear and went out back to "check on the yard."  

And as soon as he walked outside, the doorbell rang.

I answered it because AGAIN, what if it was a neighbor experiencing storm-related distress, but this time it was two salesmen from, ironically, a solar panel company.  They told me I looked young to be the homeowner and I was so flattered that I listened to the first few minutes of their spiel about a federal mandate and no cost to the homeowner and blah blah blah, and then they started asking the hard hitting questions.

Questions like do we receive our bills electronically or on paper, and how many kilowatt hours of power do we use monthly?

Well, I haven't the foggiest.

I told them Matt pays the bill and would know all of our stats, and they asked if he had a moment to talk.  I said he was busy in the backyard but I'd pass along their information.  And then again, because I over-explain and who hangs out in the backyard in the rain, I said, "I know it's really rainy out, but he's outside because we have chickens and a poor drainage, so he's checking on things."

One of the guys asked if he could look in the yard to see if he could see him, and I told him to be my guest.  He peeked around the side of the house and then said, "Are you sure he's back there? I don't see anyone!"

Well, sir, what I didn't mention was that he is dressed completely in camouflage.

Which I guess is working.

Then the guys thought I was really nuts and lying about my husband being in the backyard during a rainstorm, so I told them I'd look for him.  I ran to the dining room so I could simultaneously look out the kitchen window while keeping an eye on the front door and making sure the men didn't come inside and make a break for my jewelry box in a tricky heist.

But I peeked out that window to see if I could see Matt, and there he was, in the pouring rain, in all his camouflaged glory, HOLDING A SHOVEL AND DIGGING A GIANT HOLE NEXT TO OUR SHED.

I couldn't tell the salesmen that I found him digging a hole, because I thought they might end up calling the police on us.

So I just told them we wouldn't be making a decision on solar panels today, also, IT HAS RAINED FOR A THOUSAND DAYS SO I'M NOT QUITE READY TO RELY SOLELY ON THE SUNSHINE TO POWER MY LIFE.

When Matt came inside I filled him in on the solar panel visitors and questioned why in the world he was digging a hole?  He said water was starting to collect under his shed so he constructed a makeshift trench.

Of course.

All I have to say is the next time it rains, I am not answering the door. 

Unless it's someone selling backyard drainage systems.

i have some thoughts on some things

In a stunning turn of events, the local weather forecasters barely made a peep about snow this weekend, and then on Saturday it ended up snowing all day long.  Matt ventured out in the morning to get a haircut and to buy the ingredients for a huge pot of spaghetti sauce (or as he would say, gravy) but other than that we hung out at home.  There's nothing like being home all day while it snows outside and a big pot of sauce simmers away.

On Sunday afternoon I braved the grocery store, which was twice as bad as usual because all of the typical Saturday shoppers (me) were there too.  For months I've boycotted the deli because the workers make something as simple as slicing half a pound of turkey seem like it's something as complex and time consuming as, let's say, brain surgery.  Also, the last time I ordered from the deli, my cheese looked like someone cut it with their toes WHILE DOING BRAIN SURGERY so I took a photo of it and emailed the store manager to complain.

And then the manager himself called and left me a voicemail.

Obviously I didn't call him back because what was I going to say?  The picture spoke for itself and also HOW DID I BECOME A PERSON WHO CALLS THE GROCERY STORE MANAGER TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THE NEATNESS AND UNIFORMITY OF HER CHEESE SLICES?

Anyway, desperate times call for a pound of Cooper Sharp cheese, so I bit the bullet and took a number.  When it was my turn I ordered my pound of cheese, waited patiently, and then the the worker handed me a package with precisely one half a pound of cheese.

I told him I ordered a pound and he said, "Oh.  My bad."

Yes sir, your bad.  YOU HAD ONE JOB.

Anyway, when I got home I made the spur of the moment decision to empty out every single kitchen cabinet and drawer and reorganize.

We have a large kitchen that consists of 22 cabinets and 13 drawers.

(This is only half of it.  Also, how do you like that wood paneling?)

Needless to say, that was a decision I regretted the moment I emptied the final cabinet, but now everything is nice and neat and in a completely different place than it was 24 hours ago.  The timing wasn't the best because I left today for a 4 day business trip, so I hope Matt can find what he needs in there.

Before I hit the road today, I went to my parents' house today to check on Pearl while they were at work.  Two weeks ago, they brought home a calm, quiet, nervous little puppy.

And since then, you could say Pearl has turned into a bit of a wild woman.



I also had a Lean Cuisine for lunch at their house.  The directions on the box said to, "Place the flatbread on the revolutionary grilling tray."

Oh, so that's what we're calling cardboard boxes now, Lean Cuisine?  How fancy.

I got to my hotel around dinnertime tonight, so I ordered takeout from the Chili's right next door and went over to pick it up. Since I was only going to the pickup window, I wore a few pieces of apparel from my relaxation collection.

That's a fancy way of saying yoga pants and a hoodie.  I'm taking a page out of Lean Cuisine's book.

Unfortunately, there was a sign at the take out window that said, "Takeout customers - please see bartender."

Even more unfortunately, not only is tonight the first night of the Pennsylvania Farm Show which happens to be in this town, but also the college football championship.  The bar was packed with farmhands and sports fans.

The bartender asked my name and then went to get my order.  And when I say she came back with my bag of food, I don't mean a tiny, ladylike, there's-probably-a-small-salad-in-here-at-most bag.  I mean a Chili's SHOPPING BAG.

The container of food was huge.  For scale, here it is next to my laptop.

I think maybe tomorrow I'll just buy a Lean Cuisine and microwave it in my room.  With the revolutionary grilling tray.

While wearing my relaxation apparel.

2017

Well, it's a new year, and around here we are walking New Year's stereotypes.  We've been drinking fruit and veggie smoothies for breakfast, systematically de-cluttering the house, going to bed earlier, and we joined a gym.

Actually Matt joined the gym but has granted me guest privileges, but he isn't starting until Monday.

Naturally.

Because why start a new workout routine today when you can start on Monday?

Anyway, the fizziest drink around here on New Year's Eve was the Akla Seltzer Plus Cold tablet Matt dropped in his water before dinner.  And then, he dramatically held up another tablet and said, "How much would you pay me to just eat this straight, without dissolving it in water?"

First of all, we share a bank account, so I would pay exactly zero dollars to watch Matt ingest an Alka Seltzer tablet.

Second of all, can you say wild partiers?

We did rally and had a fancy dinner and some fun snacks while we waited for 2017 to arrive.

On my last day of vacation, I met Stacy for coffee.  We hadn't seen each other in a while, so we caught up on all the goings-on and then before I knew it, we were talking about what grocery stores have the best prices on meat.

I guarantee you that's not the conversation we would have been having the morning after New Year's Eve 8 years ago.

My Christmas break ended with an unbelievable spring-like day, so I had no other option but to go for a long walk at my favorite place.

I hope to log a bunch more walks here in 2017.

When I'm not at the gym, of course.