Average Jane

Average Jane and the Nameless Stray Cat

One day over the summer, I had a strong feeling that the Cat Distribution System had me in its sights. I found myself watching the sides of the road carefully as I drove, but no kittens appeared. That evening, I mowed my lawn and when I went to put the mower in the shed, there was a small black cat sitting calmly next to it.

I assumed she had discovered the spot where I sometimes throw food waste over the fence for the raccoons and possums, so I went in and got her a bowl of kibble. She ate eagerly and even let me pet her, although she was pretty quick to swipe at me with her claws extended.

This was obviously my assigned cat.

I decided to lure her into the basement with canned food. I'd been seeing another cat her size in the yard, and I feel strongly about trapping feral cats to get them spayed and neutered to keep those numbers from ballooning.

Within the next few weeks, she stayed in the basement except when she went to be vaccinated and spayed. The vet estimated her age at around 8 months, which was older than I would have assumed. She's quite tiny except that she's getting a bit of a tummy from having food available on demand.

At one point she bit my hand and I had to take two different antibiotics for a week. But she got used to being handled, healed quickly from her surgery, and met the dog with good results. Then it was time to start introducing her to the other cats.

That...isn't going well. I say that in the present tense because we've been at it for many weeks now and she still wakes up and chooses violence every day. She has clearly decided, much like the Highlander, that there can be only one cat. And it should be her. Unfortunately, the other three cats disagree.

Our current tactic is to put her in her cat condo cage in the middle of the living room for an hour or so every day to let the other cats interact with her without getting a beatdown. Yes, she will go after even the largest cat we have and corner him wherever he goes.

We haven't given up, but I'd be lying if I said I haven't been trying to find someone else to take her. I mean, she's already spayed, vaccinated and dewormed and she probably won't bite you. What's not to like?

The best evidence that she may not end up staying is the fact that we haven't been able to get a name to stick. The vet has her listed as TBD and one of her temporary names is on her spay paperwork, but I have a feeling she may end up somewhere else unless she can tone down the attitude and make friends. I guess we'll see what happens!

 

Average Jane's Old-Ass House

Last year, I got a phone call from my next-door neighbor whose yard is sufficiently uphill from mine that she can see parts of my roof that aren't visible from my own yard. She had noticed that a big section of shingles on my garage roof had blown loose, probably during the high winds we'd had earlier in the week.

You might think that would warrant some financial assistance from our homeowners' insurance policy, especially on a nearly 20-year-old roof, but you'd think wrong. They only offered to pay for some minor repairs that, quelle surprise, would cost less than our deductible.

By the time this all ground through the system, numerous people had tromped all over the roof circling hail damage with chalk and generally agreeing that it was not in great shape overall.

So, I decided it was as good a time as any for a new roof.

However...

I'm sure you're familiar with the concept of deferred maintenance. My house had become its poster child. And one of the biggest problems that needed to be solved before any other work could proceed was the removal of a truly monstrous amount of overgrown ivy that had crept from the side of the garage around to the front and up onto the roof. No work could proceed on the roof before we had it all taken down.

I have a long history of thinking, "I need to do something about that" in regard to home and garden issues and I reliably let them get so bad that I eventually have no choice but to act. I already knew that the ivy had physically yanked the gutter off the side of the garage and was damaging the siding.

My regular shrubbery guy wouldn't take the ivy removal job because he encountered one of the rat snakes that lived in the ivy while I was explaining what we needed, so I found someone else to take on the challenge. They stripped it all off the building and I cut the ivy stumps below ground with my Sawzall and poisoned them.

Of course, once the ivy was gone, the house needed to be painted to repair the damage and of course we needed a new gutter to replace the one that came down along with the ivy. I briefly considered siding, but the cost was absurdly high and I also hate the way it looks, so nevermind.

But before we could paint, there was another problem to be addressed. One of the garage walls had obvious water damage (and, it turned out, termite damage) that had caused it to bow outward. The door that people use to go in and out hadn't closed properly in years. If we were going to repaint, it made sense to get it rebuilt with cinderblock footings so it could withstand heavy rains without further damage.

Finally, we ended up with:

• A new roof
• A rebuilt garage wall (which cost little enough that I was mad I hadn't done it sooner)
• New guttering on the side of the garage
• A gorgeous dark grey paint job with white trim 

and while I was at it, I went ahead and got:

• New garage doors.

It all cost eleventy-bazillion dollars, half of which I borrowed. But the house looks amazing. No regrets there.

Except that stuff inside the house keeps going bad now. Specifically plumbing.

Since last summer we have replaced a toilet, had a sump pump installed in the basement at tremendous expense, and now the drains under our kitchen sink all need to be redone. I had the plumber out to look at it on Monday, hoping that the repair cost would be in the realm of what I could scrounge up a week before payday. But no, it was about twice that. So I literally have to wait until next Monday to get it repaired.

In the meantime, my sink is out of commission and I've gotten out the drain plugs and caution tape to remind myself and the spouse not to pour anything in there.

Considering that we've lived here for 29 years, I guess it shouldn't be a surprise that there are a lot of things that need to be repaired. Heck, we also have caution tape on one of the two sink faucets in the main bathroom because it broke and I'll obviously want to replace both faucets at once...whenever we get to it.

I know this is all just one of the frustrations of home ownership. And I guess it's outweighed by having a house that gets more and more to my liking with every passing year. (She said, averting her eyes from the living room ceiling that needs to be redone, the damaged plaster on the hallway wall, and the hardwood floors that could stand to be refinished.)

But did I mention that the house looks great from the outside now?

Average Jane Makes Pumpkin Spice Bundt Cake

A recipe I made last year and saved on Pinterest has disappeared from the internet except for a list of ingredients. So, I'm going to write new instructions and make it today to take to a party.

Pumpkin Spice Bundt Cake

2 ¼ cups flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. ground allspice
¾ tsp. nutmeg
½ tsp. ground ginger
¼ tsp. ground cloves
½ tsp. salt
1 ⅓ cups canned pumpkin
¾ cup buttermilk
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar
¼ cup brown sugar
3 large eggs

Preheat oven to 350°F. Sift together the dry ingredients in a large bowl and set aside. Cream butter with the two types of sugar until fluffy. Add eggs one at a time. Then mix in pumpkin, buttermilk and vanilla until thoroughly combined. Pour liquid mixture into dry mixture and stir or lightly beat just until combined. Pour into a greased and floured Bundt pan and bake for 55 to 60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. 

Icing:

1 cup powdered sugar
1 tbl. milk or half-and-half (add more if needed)
1/4 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. cinnamon

Whisk together and drizzle over cooled cake.

Note: I'm a big proponent of keeping powdered buttermilk and powdered whole milk on hand for baking. With powdered buttermilk, you add the suggested amount of powder to the dry ingredients and the measure of water to the liquid ingredients. It's really convenient and you don't have to worry about making a special trip to the store for buttermilk. Also, it lasts for years.

Average Jane Gets Magicked

It was a gift from one of the massage therapists who helps keep my lower back from becoming more of a problem than it already is. I hadn’t seen her over the holidays, so she presented me with a late Yule present in early January: a bottle of homemade fire cider.

The label revealed an ingredients list of apple cider vinegar, onion, garlic, peppers, turmeric, ginger, lemon, elderberries and honey, and she told me she steeped each batch for weeks. The idea is to take a tablespoon anytime you’re feeling under the weather. 

I told her I was looking forward to trying it. She cautioned that it tasted terrible, which made sense considering what’s in it.

So, I woke up coughing one day. I had coughed on and off through the night and I had the feeling something was settling in to wreak havoc on my week. It seemed like the perfect time to try the fire cider, so I got up and measured out a tablespoon, then downed it like a shot.

It tasted fucking awful. I mean, a blast of vinegary garlic and onion just assaulted my tastebuds and then hung around even after I tried to rinse it away with some water.

But damned if it didn’t work. My cough basically said, “No thank you,” and exited, pursued by a fire-cider-flavored bear.

I was extremely impressed considering that my body likes to seize every respiratory illness that comes along and hang onto it as long as possible. I can’t remember any other occasion when I’ve been able to stop an impending sickness in its tracks like that.

The next time I felt a little under the weather, I went straight for the fire cider and once again traded one minute of disgust for a renewed grasp on health.

I don’t know the science that would back up the effect that that I’ve observed and maybe it’s just the placebo effect, but I’m not quibbling. The internet is filled with different recipes, so maybe I’ll make some of my own if I ever get through the first bottle. But I hope it lasts a long time because...blech.

Do You Have the Time to Listen to Average Jane Whine?

I never wanted to be one of those older people who talks non-stop about their health, but that was before my various aches and pains began to demand an outsized amount of my attention. In the past, I used to put things off until I had more time. These days, I put things off until I feel well enough to do them.

Of course, it’s never just one problem at a time. Right now I am trying to recover from a root canal that took two, two-hour sessions. My tooth hasn’t been this pain-free in years, but my jaw is on strike. I can’t open my mouth wider than a slice of thin-crust pizza, so every other food has to be worked into the gap like a package through a mail slot. I’ll be going back to the dentist next week to find out if there’s anything to be done other than remain patient. (No pun intended.)

Then there’s my back. I come from a long line of people with “bad backs,” and I wish I hadn’t had to find out what that actually entails. For a number of years, my lower back has gotten cranky and stabby from such challenging activities as playing a board game or doing my job. You can imagine the fallout from yard work.

This week I finally got an x-ray and even I could see that things sure would be better if I had a visible disc below my bottom vertebra. But at least I know what the problem is now, so I can discontinue the stretches and exercises that definitely will not help and concentrate on the ones that will. I’m already seizing the opportunity to take more walks with the dog because that’s good for us both.

For whatever reason, I’ve been pretty energetic lately and I would very much like to run with that feeling, especially with so much holiday prep on my agenda. It would be nice to be able to focus on wrapping gifts and making delicious treats instead of practicing ways to reach items on the floor without bending forward. 

The good news is that there are medical professionals engaged on all fronts, so I feel like I have a fighting chance of minimizing my symptoms and keeping them that way for a while. Wish me luck.

Average Jane vs. Data: Solitaire Edition

When I was a child, my grandmother taught me to play Solitaire. It wasn't just to keep me quiet when the grownups were talking - we also enjoyed playing Double Solitaire together. So, I have always liked to play the game with regular cards and I decided I wanted a Solitaire app to play on my phone.

First of all, most of these apps have truly obnoxious ads between games. Seriously, the FTC needs to look into the shameless scams that have oozed into the casual gaming app industry because, damn. But I digress...

After several attempts, I found a nice, basic free Solitaire app that lets me play a straightforward game. 

The thing with Solitaire is that each game has two possible conclusions: win or lose. Actually, there's a third grey area of "gave up too soon because you didn't see a move you could have made" but it's basically binary. When you win, you take your minor dopamine hit and decide whether to play again. When you lose, you either start a new game or move on to something else.

But a digital app automatically collects information that you would never consider or care about in the analog game. This particular app tracks how many moves you made in the course of the game and when you win, it not only tells you how many moves it took you, but it also tells you the minimum number of moves you COULD have used to win with that configuration.

I DON'T WANT TO KNOW THAT. No one in the history of Solitaire has ever played the game to win using the smallest number of possible moves - and I don't intend to start now. But. My competitive brain sees that "look how slow you were" implication at the end of each win and it immediately undercuts the tiny moment of triumph. I hate that.

At a time when AI is poised to make many people's lives more miserable, this is a minor but annoying example of how you don't need to share all the data you have. Just because you can share information doesn't mean it's valuable or even useful. In this case, it's thoroughly unwelcome.

Average Jane's Daily Rituals: Coffee

My husband is in charge of washing any dishes that don’t go in the dishwasher, so when I’m ready to make my morning coffee, first I must gather the clean parts of the coffee maker from the dish drainer on the right-hand side of the sink. If there are a lot of clean items, I put them away before I go any further.

The coffee maker sits on a clever tray with little wheels underneath and I slide it forward—out from under the cabinet.

I start by putting the filter basket inside its outer shell, making sure to swing its handle to the back, away from the opening where the grounds pour in. Once I put on the lid, I pull out the middle portion of the coffee machine, nestle the whole apparatus into place, and close it again with a click. Then it's time to assemble the grinder. I slide its screen under the spout, pull up the top lid of the coffee maker, and work the unit firmly into its spot. 

The container of coffee beans is kept right next to the coffee maker, tucked to the back of the counter. I set it on the stove, remove the clear top lid, pull up the handle of the inner vacuum lid, and pull it out with a “schwhoop!” My favorite coffee scoop (and some lesser coffee scoops) are on a lazy susan nearby in a Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy themed mug made for me by the mother of my high school boyfriend. I measure out four scoops of beans and drop them into the grinder, then “schwhoop” the vacuum lid back into place, fold down its handle, put the clear lid back, and restore the canister to its usual spot.

I put the grinder lid on and then grab the glass carafe. If I’m lucky, the Brita container in the refrigerator is relatively full. If not, I grab it by its front handle and set it in the sink. The last time I had a new kitchen faucet installed I learned that our kitchen pipes are smaller than they should be. So, it takes a while to fill the Brita’s upper chamber and I have to pay attention to make sure it doesn’t overflow.

Either way, I fill the carafe to the four-cup line with filtered water and pour it into the top right side of the coffee maker. Once I click the lid closed and push the machine back under the cabinet, I press the “1-4 cups” button followed by the start button. The grinder loudly kicks in and continues for what seems to be far longer than necessary to grind four scoops of beans, and then it brews the two cups of coffee I will drink that morning.

I’ve been collecting coffee mugs for years. I keep my favorites at the front of the shelf where I can reach them and I occasionally rearrange the cupboard to make sure I’m not leaving any of them out of circulation for too long. I choose each day’s mug according to my mood, fill it with freshly brewed coffee, and carry it up to my desk (or to my favorite chair on days when I’m not working), usually with a small plate with toast or a breakfast pastry balanced on top.

This happens every single day (unless I happen to go out to breakfast) and the whole process only takes about five minutes, despite the many steps. It’s my morning meditation and the source of my energy for the day to follow.

What’s your favorite morning ritual?

Average Jane Writes A Daily Haiku - January 2023

Last year when Wordle became a big deal, a group of friends of mine on Discord started sharing our scores every day as our proof of life. This year, I decided I was tired of the game, so instead I proposed a daily haiku. 

My poetry is as mundane as everything I write on the blog, so I figured as long as I’m writing a little poem every day, I might as well collect them at the end of each month and share them here. I write a lot of them first thing in the morning, which I’m sure you will be able to tell.

Without further ado and with no added context, here is the crop from January.

January 1st:
Greeting the new year
Under piles of warm blankets
Today I will rest

January 2nd:
Cleaning the freezer
So many expired foods
Need better planning 

January 3rd:
Back to work today
My password is expired
I might run away

January 4th:
Post-insomnia
Ridiculous vivid dreams
Really want that dress

January 5th:
Cat just woke me up
Why isn’t it Friday yet?
Need to win lotto

January 6th:
Up extra early
More time with the cats and dog
And the laundry, too

January 7th:
Oven set to low
Spices, sugar, vinegar
Pulled pork for dinner

January 8th:
Memento mori 
Was the unexpected theme
Of new Puss in Boots

January 9th:
Crashed with the lights on
So tired, completely dressed
I need more weekend

January 10th:
Snuggly little dog
Giant, purring black kitty
Might go back to sleep

January 11th:
This bag of spinach
NOT thoroughly rinsed as billed
I hope that is mud

January 12th:
Spilled coffee again 
My desk is caffeinated
Better than I am

January 13th:
Just one more workday
Until the three-day weekend 
My brain needs a rest

January 14th:
Thai yoga massage
Ninety minutes booked today
Ahhh, relaxation 

January 15th:
Spent time in nature 
Lovely, even with no green
I’ll sleep well tonight 

January 16th:
Baked lemon pound cake
Homemade, from scratch, delicious 
So suck it, Starbucks

January 17th:
Oh hey, back to work
What did I forget last week?
Gonna find out now

January 18th:
Taught the spouse one game 
And now he always wins it
I’m a sore loser

January 19th:
Haven’t sung in years
Going to a jam tonight 
Where are my lyrics?

January 20th:
It’s still a workday?
Why am I so damn tired?
Wish I were a cat

January 21st:
A busy day planned
But first I’ll sit and admire
My fancy new rug

January 22nd:
Early to bed and
Early to rise makes for some
Quiet reading time

January 23rd:
Office is so cold
Checked to make sure the windows
Were actually closed

January 24th:
Weather is changing
I don’t need a forecaster
My sinuses know

January 25th:
The perfect snowfall:
Pretty on the tree branches
Not much on the ground 

January 26th:
It’s time to get up
But this book is really good
And this dog is warm

January 27th:
It’s RuneQuest day - yay!
Finding my inner sassy
Shapeshifter again

January 28th:
Muffins for breakfast 
No real plans for the weekend
Guess I’ll read this book

January 29th:
I cut down a tree
Yesterday so today I
Will relax all day

January 30th:
Little bit sniffly
Swab, swirl, drop, fifteen minutes 
Nope, looks like I’m fine

January 31st:
Gas pump soaked my gloves
Flammable laundry is not
A task I wanted

Average Jane Cuts Down A Tree

Once upon a time, I had a huge, ancient locust tree in my front yard. Time took its inevitable toll and after the tree dramatically split in half one day, I had it cut down and the stump ground up.

That’s where this mistake began.

After a bit, I decided I would like to have a tree in that spot again. I did some research, decided on a tulip poplar, and purchased one that was about six or seven feet tall. I dug a hole in the middle of the tree trunk mulch and installed the new tree.

Now, the problem with planting a tree in the spot where another, bigger tree used to be, is that it takes a while for the old roots to finish breaking down—and when they do, that spot begins to sink. At best, you end up with your new tree in a pit and at worst, you have the problem that developed at my house.

After a while, it became clear that my tree was leaning. It’s something I would probably have been able to fix with stakes over the first few years, but I never quite got around to it. In fact, I even purchased stakes and rope and kept aside an old garden hose to cut into pieces so it would protect the tree from the rope, but I never quite got where I was headed with the whole project.

So, the tree kept growing and the angle of the lean got sharper. The outer side of the trunk split and began to rot, even as the tree finally matured enough to start blooming. The top of the tree tried desperately to swoop a bit toward being vertical, but without much success. Meanwhile, no amount of fill dirt seemed to be enough to keep the pit the tree was situated in from deepening each year. Mowing around it was always a dusty chore.

Yesterday, I finally did what I should have done years before. The weather was unseasonably nice, so I got out my work gloves, my reciprocating saw, my loppers and a tarp, and I went out to cut the tree down.

I started by cutting off the top part at about the five-foot mark. It fell just short of my Little Free Library, and I used my tools to cut off the branches one by one and pile them on the tarp. I cut up pieces that were thick enough for the fire pit into logs and put them by the back fence to dry until next spring.

Now, a reciprocating saw isn't the ideal tool for cutting down a tree of this size. However, I was working alone and didn't like the idea of using a chainsaw without a work buddy around. So, I took breaks from tackling the lower trunk of the tree to haul the branches to the brush pile in my back yard. When I couldn't drag the tarp with the full pile on it, I enlisted my wheelbarrow for two loads and used the tarp for the rest.

I kind of hated to increase the size of my brush pile, but I have plans for it in the spring. Also, if there are any critters living in there right now, they might appreciate the extra layers of branches while it’s still winter.

Once I had the front yard cleaned up, it was time to finish the job. I’m in the kind of shape you’d expect for someone who sits at a desk all day and then chooses board gaming and watching YouTube videos as her preferred leisure activities. But I persisted in tackling the base of the tree from all angles, taking breaks as needed and occasionally saying, “Almost there,” out loud in a way that I hope did not have the neighbors questioning my sanity.

Finally, I managed to cut through the base of the trunk. Not surprisingly, it weighed too much for me to just pick it up and take it away. Fortunately, my neighbor and her son were driving by and stopped to comment about my tree triumph right about then. They lifted the trunk onto my tarp for me, which was all I needed to be able to drag it into the back yard. I make it sound so easy. In reality, it was heavy as hell and I barely had the strength to get it where I wanted it.

The rest of the job can wait until spring. I need to have some gung-ho friends come over for a chainsaw party where we can cut up the rest of the trunk and also another fallen tree that’s nearby. The brush pile will be fed into my wood chipper to make mulch for my various landscaping needs. And I’ll order enough dirt to fill the very large depression in the yard where the tree was.

Despite that entire process taking more than two hours, I feel surprisingly okay today. My biceps and quads are a little sore, but I was expecting much worse.

Best of all, I can now walk out into my front yard without being confronted by a tall, crooked reminder of my own series of mistakes.

Farewell, tree. You deserved better.

Average Jane Has An Incredibly Puzzling Conversation

After the Chiefs game ended tonight my husband came downstairs and I happened to mention that we should watch the Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special sometime soon, even though I've heard it's pretty terrible.

Him: "Wow they made a holiday special. With the whole cast?"

Me: "Yes."

Him: "Except for the one who died. Sneep?"

Me: "What? Yes, all the characters who are alive in universe."

Him: "You know, the guy who played Sneep in Harry Potter."

Me: "Sneep? What are you talking about? Do you mean the guy from the Walking Dead?"

Him: "No, the guy who was also in Harry Potter."

Me: "There was no one from Harry Potter in Guardians of the Galaxy!"

Him: ...

Me: ...

Him: "I thought you meant Galaxy Quest."

Me: "Galaxy Quest?! Why would they make a holiday special now from a 23-year-old movie?"

Him: "I don't know why they do anything."

And...scene.