
One Project

It always amused me how much stuff the average Polish woman (and it’s always the woman) irons. “Do you all iron even the underwear?” I once quipped.
There is a certain sense behind it, I guess, if you worry about wrinkles in everything. When I first lived there, I didn’t. And I didn’t even have an iron if I wanted to smooth out my clothes. “We always laughed about how obvious it was you were a bachelor” one of my former students once confessed.
Ironing sheets, though? Yep.
I’ve written often enough, I suppose, about how my Saturday rhythm has changed over the last forty years or so. Saturday once meant church, seclusion, no work, no socializing with non-church folks, no sports, no school-related activities. Nothing that could pollute our minds or get our focus away from our sect’s teachings.
Saturday afternoon at 2:30 we met at the IBEW (International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers) union hall. We usually arrived at least an hour earlier, and stayed at least an hour past the 4:30 end time. Every Saturday afternoon, a two-hour meeting during which men of dubious theological education pontificated about the conspiracy theories that comprised the bulk of the organization’s theology. The only saving grace was the playing (and later, as a teenager, socializing) that took place before and after the meeting.
These days, my Saturdays are so much more fluid. Sometimes, there’s a clear outline to the day, with chores in the yard occupying much of my time. Once school starts, I send a fair amount of the morning grading students’ work. Today, for example, I went through 43 kids’ single-paragraph analysis of “The Cask of Amontillado.” They wrote things like this:
The narrator’s story can be trusted because Montressor is confessing his actions to the priest on his deathbed. For example, Montressor talks to the preist because he knows the “nature of [his] soul.” and would not believe that he “gave utterance to a threat”. This proves that the priest knows Montressor very well, probably because the same priest would come to his house often. The priest also would not suppose Montressor killed someone. He would most likely want to admit his wrong doings before he died. Another example is, In “half of a century” no one has disturbed the catacombs or found Fourtunado’s body. It shows that no one has found out what happened to Fortunato 50 years later. This also explains the reasoning why Montressor would tell his priest, because he would be very old by this time; old enough to be on his deathbed. To sum it up, because Montressor is confessing to the priest that he killed Fortunado, this narrative can be reliable.
I worked through the papers in between trimming shrubs, cleaning my bike chain, and cleaning out the basement.
The shrubs — didn’t L just trim those? Her chores on Saturday usually include getting crickets for her frog, shopping (she usually gets the week’s groceries on Fridays, but there’s always something more we need), and cleaning her room.
The bike chain — didn’t I just clean it? Bike maintenance is something I’ve never really enjoyed. It’s so tedious cleaning a chain, replacing cables, adjusting brakes, replacing tires. But the worst of it all is definitely chain cleaning. No matter how carefully I clean it, there’s always a bit of grime left behind. But nothing makes a bike look better than a spotless chain.
Today, I used a new degreaser, and I was fairly pleased with the results. Ultimately, what I’d like is an ultrasonic cleaner that I could just drop the chain into for a few minutes and then let dry. But in the meantime, I’ll use a degreasing solution and toothbrush.
Cleaning out the basement — there’s been a crate of old books that K will eventually take to Goodwill, and among the books are several of my college lit anthologies. I’ve kept them for so long because — well, I really don’t know why. I haven’t cracked one open in so long. I had them at school for a long time, but I’ve run out of shelf space and brought them hope.
That is a story in and of itself. Last year, the state of South Carolina provided each English teacher with $3,500 worth of independent reading books so we could have a classroom library of contemporary, high-interest books. But this year, things changed:
Effective August 1st, 2024, SC Regulation 43-170 requires teachers to produce a complete list of the Instructional Materials (including classroom library books) that are used in or available to a student in any given class, course, or program that is offered, supported, or sponsored by a school, or that are otherwise made available by any District employee to a student on school premises. That list shall be provided upon reasonable request by any parent/guardian of a student in the District.
Greenville County Schools Press Release
In short, we’re not to have any books that even hint at sex. It’s another last-gasp effort of the far right to maintain its stranglehold on young people’s minds, I say to myself. For me, it’s simply a headache, which is why I’ve closed my library: I haven’t made the list yet, and I have no idea when I’ll be able to. In the meantime, I posted a sign explaining the situation, and I look forward to Meet the Teacher night when all parents can see the signs because I’m going to make my presentation standing right beside one.
So I guess in a way, my Saturdays have come full circle.
I took today was of one minor accomplishment:
I reinstalled the pressure-reduction valve that I put in last week but was leaking.
Yes, that’s red and blue pex. No, I don’t care.
We dedicated today to our elderberries. I clipped the clusters from the bush in the late morning, and K spent a lot of time pulling the small black pearls from their clusters as I worked and after I finished when I joined her.
And when I say we dedicated today to the elderberries, I mean the whole day. As I type (and work on my safety videos for school), K is finishing up, filling jars with fresh elderberry preserves.
We ended up with something like who-knows-how-many kilos of berries (was it four? five? I can’t recall) which will make who-knows-how-many pints of preserves.
The other task for the evening was helping the Boy get his room straightened up, a Sisyphean task if ever there be one. We ended up throwing out quite a bit of stuff, an act that initially stressed and frustrated the Boy a great deal.
Surrendering even the smallest trinket is difficult for someone as sentimental as E. I can understand that, though I hope eventually to grow out of it myself.
A beautiful morning
Gives way to a lovely afternoon with blueberry pierogi
Summer eating at its Polish best.
One item on my summer to-do list is to repaint the ceiling in one of the showers. Why? There’s some stain that we have no idea what it is or how it got there, can’t get rid of it, and are tired of. So our simplified solution is fairly straightforward: paint over it with multiple coats.
Taping up the edges and protecting the rest with plastic, though, took longer than all the painting (for all coats) combined will likely take. And the best part: all the plastic, at this point, was unnecessary because I didn’t have a single drop.
Of course, if I took out the plastic…
This is the time of year we feel like we’re drowning in blueberries. We head out each day and pick berries, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for a not-so-few minutes. Today, for example, I picked for about an hour; K joined me for about half an hour, and she was not even picking in a new spot of the bushes: she was going back over where I’d been, grabbing the berries I’d overlooked because they were hiding.
And the rest of the time? K was making the first batch of jam for the year.
Today was a day of yardwork. “Think of all the time we spend with just maintenance,” K said as she looked at what I accomplished today. We’re not really getting ahead with our yard with a day like today: we’re just maintaining a steady state.
I turned this, for example,
into this. To do so, I borrowed my neighbor’s massive trimmer that theoretically allows one to trim the top of such high bushes without a ladder. Theoretically.
It’s also heavy. My shoulders ached after just a few minutes of work. That’s why I took it back after finishing the first two shrubs and used our own, light electric trimmer to turn this
into this. The growth on those shrubs — what are they called again? I can’t even remember what’s growing in our own yard — has been phenomenal. I have to trim them several times a year.
I continued with the electric trimmer to turn this
and this
into this. The trimmer has its advantages: it’s light and, well, I guess that’s its only advantage because it’s terribly stressful (perhaps not terribly, but it is an added concern) to make sure one doesn’t trim the power cord along with the shrub. Not that I’ve ever done that. Countless times.
In the evening, another bike ride.
I’ve been trying to get the deck finished for what seems like an eternity, but it keeps raining. I thought I had a window this morning, but just as I stepped outside, it began drizzling.
I turned my attention to the kitchen sink instead. We’ve long needed to rip out the old silicon and replace it, but I couldn’t find any black silicon. Then I realized it wasn’t actually supposed to be black…
In the afternoon, I took a chance and finished the deck. Normally, that late in the day, putting water-proofing on the deck is a terrible idea. It doesn’t soak into the wood; it cooks on the surface and then gets sticky. I figured, though, that since I only had to do verticle parts of the railing, the freshly-sealed surfaces wouldn’t actually be getting in direct, 90-degree sun exposure. And also, if it does turn sticky, who’ll ever know? It’s not like you’re going to walk on it.
In the evening, we (minus L, who had volleyball practice followed by track practice) went to a local university for Music By The Lake. A local youth orchestra was performing, and to our admittedly-slight surprise, we discovered Mr. K, E’s band teacher (and favorite teacher), runs the whole program.
Clover was just excited to get out of the house.
Today’s project.
The summer work continues: we’re installing a garbage disposal in our sink, but because of the way we plumbed it, we can’t put the disposal on the side of the sink we want. No big deal: we’ll just re-do a bit of the plumbing.
While I was looking for the parts we need, though, the Boy entertained himself.
It’s a job I tackle every other year, a job that takes days and days to complete because of the simple fact that I can only work a few hours each day.
This year, I have the added area of the lattice that encloses the lower deck. Today’s accomplishment: all the exterior portions of the upper deck and all the lattice.
At least two more days of this await, maybe more.