Ugly is beautiful...

The Graduation/Birthday celebration ended up being both lunch and dinner, with solving the problems of the world and a game of Monopoly thrown in.

Marie and Paul are just plain awesome.  

And they are peaceful.  

And I actually won Monopoly!!

Since they treated to me to visiting through dinner, I got to try another new recipe.  It was not the most well-written of recipes, and I have already made changes in my rememberer blog for next time, as well as notes for further tweaks.  However, the idea of red lentil dahl with sautéed butternut squash and carrots is a really fantastic one!  

I cut the water, changed most of it into stock, and puréed the onions. I added salt, because it was not in the ingredient list and McCormack Peppercorn Medley because 1) there was no pepper in the ingredient list and 2) that pepper works so well with butternut squash.  The directions had some salt and pepper.  My 1/2 teaspoon was not enough.  In a nutshell, when you had a spoonful with a vegetable in it, the dahl was great, but the lentil base needed more.  I would change the lemon juice to lemongrass and at least double the curry.  Plus, up the salt and pepper.  I really want to make this again soon.  However, Marie pointed out that butternut squashes are no longer in the grocery store.

I have two more.  I had wanted to make the recipe I created for Paul and Marie's freezer cooking that time, which would take one of the butternut squashes.  After all, I did not get to eat any of the Roasted Butternut Squash and Goat Milk Pasta myself.  I also would like to have to some roasted butternut squash itself.  So, basically, I have three uses for the two butternut squashes left.  I hate math.  It rarely works out in my favor.

Today, I picked up five days' worth of the new erythromycin pills. They were significantly more than the quoted price.  I am not sure if that is because I am in the donut hole or simply because prices of all my medications have risen since I started tracking the prices.  I have taken two of them.  And eaten quite a bit.  I suppose you can say I am nervous munching because I am wondering if my innards are going to stop working again without the erythromycin solution.

I picked up the prescription not because I wanted to spend the extra money, with two bottles of the erythromycin solution left, but because I see the doctor on Friday. I thought it would be good to have 5 days of the medication under my belt.  And this would save me the cost of an extra check-in appointment between my now normally 8-week check-in appointments.  

When I got home, after talking with Mary, I spent some time trying to see if I could sand down the porch floor enough to ready it for sealer myself.

To refresh your memory, here is where I left the floor with the heat gun:

See that really rough and still painted section before the threshold in front of the back steps?  I sanded it a bit.

If you set aside how little I got done in the large amount of time I spent sanding, is this enough for the wood to take the sealer?  Just those six boards that are the lightest?  There are still tiny bits of paint here and there.  What will happen to them?  Will the sealer simply dry on top or will the paint remain on the surface and eventually wear off?  Not all of the boards would take the amount of effort that this spot did.  So, possibly, sitting on the ground and sanding might work.  I sure would like to get the porch finished.

Another thought I had was if I should get Firewood Man to power wash it before I sand it.  Would that help the process or would it further stress the damaged bits I have to sand down?  I plan to have him power wash it before I apply the sealer.

Being very much in distress, I threw myself in to tackling Marie and Paul's free dresser that they left here for me yesterday.  It is pink.

It looks like that the pink was painted over the black, only the black looked very much like marker, not paint.  In any case, the heat gun did not do all that much.

The paint would basically melt and re-apply itself.

It is actually sort of smooth.  

I stopped working with the heat gun because if Marie wants to paint it, I don't see the purpose of trying to remove the paint on the drawers.  Bonding primer and a new color should be just fine, since there are just one or two layers of paint on this dresser.  Of course, I am biased.  I am not much for painted furniture.  It should be a course of last resort.  Plus, I am of the mind that free furniture should not cost you much more to incorporate it into your home.

And, well, I have this belief that, with all wood, ugly is beautiful.  So, this is my idea for dealing with the pinkness of the dresser.

After scraping off the pink paint, I sanded the top and rubbed in just a bit of stain.

I think it looks better in person. 

And, yes, I think it looks beautiful.  

Battered wood is beautiful.

Anyway, I suggested that Marie let me remove the rest of the paint, sand it down a bit, and then rub in some stain.  After that, I would use some orange oil and call it a day.  Of course, the best part will be to find some fabulous scarf or swath of fabric for the top, draping it over the top and sides.  Something Indian, maybe, since that fabric always seems to have a bit of gold in it.  A bit of something something.  Then, your dresser becomes a conversation piece.

Whatever Marie decides, this will keep me occupied for a while.  

A little while.

A respite from my thoughts.

My neighbor got off work early, so she asked if she could sit a spell on the porch.  I joined her.  And Amos, who has very much missed my neighbor.  We all visited as the fan blew the cool evening breeze about us.  The fountain sang and Amos noted the presence of each passing neighbor.  Such a still moment in time.

My neighbor has been climbing her way out of a deep pit over the past two years.  She's finally reached a place where she sees more light than darkness.  I understand darkness.

In addition to finding her way out of that pit, my neighbor has been working so hard to help her son, who has Asperger Syndrome and is about to turn 20, understand what it means to be grown up.  Her world has been so small of late and her sole company has been someone who struggles to understand anything outside himself.  My neighbor told me that I was her spate of normalcy for the day!  I laughed.  

I thought if she watched Doc Martin, she might feel less alone.

I felt less alone watching Saving Grace.