As of this afternoon, I am unemployed.  

The day started - or, rather, should have started - with The Boss's last hearing at 9 a.m.  The attorneys wanted to have a pow-wow before the hearing, and they ended up agreeing on whatever it was they were arguing about.  (I don't know why lawyers can't have their pow-wows BEFORE the day of the hearing; it would have the court so much time and effort.)  Another judge came in to be sworn in.  The Boss had a pile of orders to sign.

I took a picture of The Boss signing the final order, and another of The Boss handing that final order to a clerk to be stamped.

After that, The Boss and I waved for a camera from the courthouse porch, then the clerks all gathered on the porch and waved back at us.  Then it hit us that the picture would make more sense if it showed us waving AT EACH OTHER.  So we nabbed the next guy who came out of the courthouse and asked him to take the picture.  

We all went back inside.  The Boss and I gathered our purses, gave each other a hug, and made a standing lunch date for the second Tuesday of every month.

I choked up a little.  

Crazy Day - August 29, 2022

What a crazy day this has been.

The Boss swore in the new judge this morning.  A couple of hours later, the State computer geeks came for our computers, phones, fax machine, etc.  At the same time, the new judge's crew came to get our (state-owned) furniture.  

I have been talking with the County Executive about a job with the county.  We've met a couple of times, and "rumor" has it that I will have a job with the county.  The thing is that no one has told me when to report, where I'll be working, or how much the county intends to pay me - little things like that.

Tomorrow afternoon, the local bar association is hosting a reception for The Boss. 

Wednesday morning, The Boss has one final hearing to do.  

Then we're done.  

I don't quite know what to do with myself.

Partying - August 27, 2022

The Boss's retirement party was a hum-dinger.  Hundreds of people came.  There was good food, a rockin' band, and fireworks at the end of the evening.  

* * * * * * * * 

I saw a post on Facebook that said yesterday (Saturday) was "Play Music on the Porch Day."  Since The Husband and our sons are all "musical," we invited the family to come hang out and play music on the back porch.  All of our kids and grandkids were here, plus a few more relatives.  We had a big time!

Still Picking Peas - August 26, 2020

Yesterday was The Boss's last day in court.  After the final case was over, the court clerks and the bailiffs gathered behind The Boss on the bench for a picture.  It was kind of bittersweet.

The Boss turned me loose when we got back to town.  I ran a few errands, came home, changed clothes, and went to the garden to see what needed picking.  The purple hull peas should've been picked last weekend, but it rained, and we did not do any work in the garden.  Yesterday, when I finally got to it and saw all the grass and weeds I'd have to wade through, I thought I could hear the chiggers celebrating my approach.

About half of the peas on the vines were dried up, but there were enough good ones to make about a quart of shelled peas.  (I gave that job to Nanny.)  

This year's tomato crop has been pitiful.  We've had so much rain this month that many of the tomato skins have split.  And the garden critter - whatever it is - squirrel, raccoon, or groundhog - gnawed the bottoms out of half of the crop.  

While the rain kept us out of the garden, the squash grew into baseball bats.  I hauled two 5-gallon buckets of over-sized squash to the gulley behind the garden.  I don't know why the garden critter(s) don't eat squash.  Wonder if they know something we don't know?

Tonight is The Boss's retirement party, something she has been planning for years.  Five hundred guests are expected.  A local barbeque restaurant is cooking 26 pork shoulders and side-dishes to go with them.  There'll be a band and beverages.  It should be fun.  

Nine More Days - August 23, 2022

Whew...yesterday 'bout wore me out.

When we left the office last Friday, there was a huge pile of bagged-up and boxed-up garbage in the front room.  Yesterday morning we added a considerable amount to the pile.  When all of the drawers and shelves were finally empty, I said to The Boss, "Give me your car key.  I'm going to back it up to the door, and we're hauling this stuff to the dumpster."  She drives a Yukon.  We laid the back seat down and filled the cargo space with garbage bags - TWICE - and drove up the hill to the dumpster.  She held the lid open while I heaved the bags into the dumpster.  We were both dripping sweat by the time we finished.  

Having finished that chore, there's not much left for us to do.  This weekend or early next week, The Boss's kids are coming to get her personal furniture and boxed-up belongings.  The new judge's crew will come for our desks and the remaining state-supplied furniture.  I've got two boxes of pictures and books to bring home.

We have an old microwave that is so gross I won't use it.  We'll leave it for somebody else to toss.  We also have a dorm-sized refrigerator that's been running non-stop for 25+ years.  The freezer compartment was frozen shut, so I unplugged the refrigerator and aimed a space heater at the iceberg.  I'll take it to Granddaughter #1, who will be going away to college this fall, if it runs again when it's plugged back in.

We'll have court tomorrow and Thursday, then the official work will be done, except for wrapping up whatever paperwork is generated in those hearings.

I still do not know anything about my new job.  It appears to be a "done deal," but there's been no word on a start date or any other details, such as where my office will be.  Hopefully, someone will be in touch in a few days.

I like surprises, but damn . . . . 

Ten Days and Counting - August 21, 2022

Starting tomorrow, it's ten days and counting until we close up shop at the office and the new judge takes over.  There will be two more days of court next week, then we're done with the cases, but we still have some cleaning-out to do at the office.  There's one box that probably has a tarantula in it; I don't know how we're going to get that out of the office.  I ain't touching it.

Friday is The Boss's big retirement party.  

Monday morning, The Boss will swear in the new judge.  Later that afternoon, the techies will be coming for our computers and telephones Monday the 29th, and then we will be lame ducks.  The furniture will go away during the following two days.  We'll be like flies without a place to land.  Tuesday afternoon, the county Bar Association will be throwing one more retirement party for The Boss.  After that, I suppose we will truly be done.

* * * * * * * * * *

Last weekend, we picked all of the tomatoes that had even a hint of color on them and set them on the sill on the back porch.  Today, they were ripe enough for canning, but there weren't quite enough, so I put on my clogs and went to the garden to see if the squirrel had left any ripe ones.  We've had rain showers for the past few days, and I marred up in the mud, nearly face-planted once.  About half of the ripe tomatoes on the vines had been gnawed.  I got the ripe ones, and any that were starting to turn.  Nanny said she would like to have the ripe tomatoes to can, so I came home and got the ones from the porch, sorted out the ripest ones for Nanny to can, and put the rest of them on the porch sill.  Sent the ripe ones to Nanny via The Husband, who was about to make a trip to the Dollar General.  

I had also picked jalapeno and pimento peppers today to use for pepper jelly.  I knew I did not have enough sugar - a batch takes THIRTEEN cups of sugar! - so I asked The Husband to pick up two bags of sugar and two boxes of fruit pectin while he was at the dollar store.  As expected, the dollar store didn't have any fruit pectin, but I found two boxes among my canning supplies that were not out of date.  Then, when I started measuring out the apple cider vinegar, I discovered I was a cup short.  But there was a bottle of red wine vinegar in the pantry, and it was the right acidity, so I finished out the recipe with it.  My pepper jelly usually comes out a pretty gold color.  This time, it's more like "antique gold."  But it's still pretty.  

Here's a trick I learned about chopping hot peppers.  I have tried wearing plastic/rubber gloves to seed and chop the peppers, but it was awkward, and my hands still burned.  Last year, I tried rubbing olive oil on my hands before I started messing with the peppers, and IT WORKED.  I guess the pepper juice stuck to the olive oil instead of my skin.

Here's a pepper jelly trick to keep the peppers from floating to the top of the jar:  after the jars are out of the canner, while the jelly is a little warm but not set, swirl the jar.  It will help distribute the pepper pieces.

Morning Gardening - August 14, 2022

Friday afternoon, when I went to the garden for cucumbers and tomatoes for dinner, I glanced at the purple hull pea rows and saw they needed picking.  After dinner, I said to The Husband, "We ought to go pick the peas."  

He said, "Let's pick them tomorrow morning."  

I sort of rolled my eyes at him and gave him a doubtful look.  He hates gardening, and he hates mornings.  The odds of us picking peas in the morning seemed pretty slim.  

But, to my amazement, he did not complain when I reminded him of the peas after breakfast.  We picked another 5-gallon bucket full.

We also picked all of the tomatoes that had even a hint of orange on them, trying to beat the squirrels to the harvest.  We brought them home and lined them up on the porch sill.  A few tomatoes were ripe enough to eat, but there weren't enough to fool with canning.  To keep them from going to waste, I scalded the skins off of them, chopped them up, and put them in the freezer. 

Crash Kitchen - August 12, 2022

I was so excited to get a new food processor a few weeks ago.  I've been chopping and slicing left and right.  Last night, after pulverizing some frozen grated cheese (I was making low-carb cheetos - more about that later), as I was putting the processor back where it goes, the bowl fell off and chipped in two places when it hit the floor.  *sigh*  

When I tested the bowl on the processor, all the lights on the processor would flash at once, and it wouldn't grind.  I nudged the bowl a little bit and the lights went back to normal, but it still wouldn't budge.  *sigh*  

I gathered up the chips, found a bottle of super-glue that wasn't dried up, and glued the chips back in place.  (Wouldn't you know it, the chips occurred precisely in the spots where something needs to click or fit into a groove.  It probably could've busted in ANY OTHER PLACES and still worked.)  The chips glued in nicely, and I thought, This might work.  

The glue dried overnight, and I gave it a try today. 

No go.  

Lights flashing, nothing happens.

So I ordered a new bowl today.  It cost 2/3 as much as the whole food processor.  

If those lights blink when the new bowl goes on, I will be very mad.

* * * * * * * *

The Husband and I have been on a low-carb diet for almost 3 months.  We've both lost weight, but boy are we sick of the food.  I scour the internet daily for something new to cook.  Today's experiment is lasagna made with lavash bread instead of noodles.  It's ready to go in the oven come suppertime.  I'm sort of worried about what's going to happen to that lavash; I expect the top edge is going to be too crunchy to suit me.  (I don't like it when the edges of real lasagna noodles get crunchy.)  

Yesterday's experiment was home-made cheetos.  Pulverized frozen cheese, stiffly-beaten egg whites (with a tad of cream of tarter), and a small amount of almond flour.  Pipe it onto a parchment-lined tray, bake, and leave it in the oven to dry out for a while longer.  They were . . . not bad.  After they'd cooled completely, I put them in a zip bag.  I wondered if they'd get soggy, but so far they haven't.  I will try them again, with a little bit of cayenne or garlic.  The Husband says they need more cheese, but I think too much more cheese might affect the texture in a not-good way, since I'm shooting for a crunchy snack.

* * * * * * * * 

I might have found a new job.  Details to come.  ;)

The Beginning of the End - August 9, 2022

The process of closing down our office began in earnest today.

We have to be out by August 31.  

I started shredding and discarding copies of documents more than a month ago.  Last week, I delivered a big box of my personal books to donate to the library.  My pictures and trinkets are all packed up.  My car is loaded down with my personal computers that I took to the office before we had official access to the internet.  (What in the world will I do with those old dinosaurs?)

Today, the judge-elect showed up with a crew to start moving books and furniture that we won't need to survive these last few weeks.  

It is kind of bittersweet.

The Boss and I are both tired of our jobs.  But having worked together for 27 years, life will be strange for a while.

I have not found another job yet.  I've applied for a couple of government positions that I really don't expect to get and might not even want, when it comes right down to it.  Both jobs are in the "big city" - a long, tedious drive for me after 27 years of a 20-minute commute, with a couple of stop signs and a red light between me and the office.  Either job would up my retirement pay nicely.  But, again, I doubt I'll get one of them.  

I'm not sure I want another job, anyway, to be honest.  I may be too old and set in my ways to break in a new boss.  

If I don't get another government job, I can work for a private employer AND draw my retirement at the same time.  

It won't hurt my feelings one bit to take a few months off.  The house needs for me to have a throwing-away party so my kids don't have to do it when I croak.  (Having gone through this with my parents and other relatives, I don't want to put that on my kids.)  The house also needs new flooring in some of the rooms, and a new countertop in the kitchen.  We've been putting it off.  This may be the perfect time.

The yard is over-grown and needs attention.  There's a rampaging bed of phlox that needs to go away, and hydrangeas that need to go in their place.  And English ivy is eating up everything on the hill.  When I asked my gardening group for ways to get rid of the phlox, people started saying, "Oh, no!  Don't kill them!  Offer to let people dig them up and they'll disappear like magic."  

Really?  People are going to drive to the boonies for phlox?  

I must have $10,000 worth of craft supplies that ought to be used - probably enough to start my own store.  Enough fabric for multiple quilts.  Maybe I should learn to use all this paint, if it's not dried up.   

Maybe I need my very own workshop.  ;)

Weed whacking - August 8, 2022

The weed whacker mentioned in my previous post is shaped sort of like a lawnmower.  It has two wheels and a handle; the business end of the thing juts out the front.  It uses thick, twisted "string" that looks like a licorice whip.  It can handle some pretty tough weeds.

When I asked my son to bring it home two weeks ago, he said the handle was broken, and he had not been able to find a replacement.  This weekend, I told him to bring it home, anyway, so that I could take it to a small engine repair shop to see if it could be fixed.  He brought it this weekend and put it in the shop down at Nanny's.  I thought he must have fixed it since we'd talked; the handle looked fine to me.

I went down to the shed to get it yesterday morning.  Gassed it up, yanked the cord, and it fired up on the second pull.  I thought, "Wooo-HOOO!"  

But then I realized that the front end wasn't doing anything.  The business end wasn't turning.  It was then that I realized that the "handle" that was broken was actually the - I guess you'd call it the "clutch" lever - the thing you have to hold down to make the string spin.  I loaded it into the truck and brought it home to take a picture of the model number, blow it up large enough to read, and see if I could find a replacement part online.

And I found one.

But while I was searching, The Husband took a similar part off an old lawnmower - the bar you have to hold down to keep the lawnmower running - and installed it on the weed whacker.  AND IT WORKED!

I ordered the part, anyway.

The point of getting this thing running was to chop down the tall grass around the edges of the garden.  Late yesterday afternoon, we loaded the whacker back into the truck and took it to the garden.  The grass was so tall that it wrapped around the spinning thing and pretty much paralyzed it.  While I was untangling the grass, The Husband cranked up the lawnmower and mowed the grass down.  Made short work of it.  Good thing, too, because once I got the grass unwound, I could not get the whacker to crank again.  The pull cord seemed suddenly uncooperative.  I could not yank it hard enough to make the engine fire.

It's always something, ain't it?  :-\

Grumble, grumble - August 7, 2022

When I was picking squash Thursday evening, I noticed a clump of squash bug eggs on the leaves.  Since we were about to go to Granddaughter #2's birthday party, I made a mental note to come back and spray the plants.  Yesterday morning about 9 o'clock, I got on it.

The garden was still very muddy.  I picked all the squash, crushed any bug eggs that I could find, and sprayed the plants.

Thursday evening I'd also noticed that one of the tomato plants looked wilted and suspected fusarium wilt.  After I finished with the squash, I picked all the tomatoes off the plant, yanked it out of the ground, and threw it away.  

As I passed the purple hull pea rows, I saw that the peas needed picking again.  I hadn't planned to pick peas, but knew they'd dry on the vines if I didn't get them soon, so I went to work on them.  With all the rain we've had, the weeds in the pea rows are out of control.  I spent twice as much time pulling weeds as picking peas. When I got to the final row, on the side where the garden meets the lawn, the grass was so high that I wouldn't step into it for fear of snakes.

The whole time I worked, I grumbled.  A horse fly bit me on the arm, and ants chewed my ankles.  It's ridiculous to try to maintain such a big garden.  And I don't even like purple hull peas.  

By the time I finished the picking, I'd decided that next year I will not plant any peas.

* * * * * * * * 

Son #1 has been borrowing our lawnmower all summer.  His has gone kaput.  The last time he borrowed it, he did not bring it back.  The Husband texted him Friday and told him to bring the lawnmower home so we could mow our yard and Nanny's.  The Son said he'd send them home by his stepson, who would then mow Nanny's yard.  The Husband told him to have the stepson check with him before starting on Nanny's yard, so he could show him where the hazards are.  

Son #1 has had our big black tiller all summer long.  And he's had my push-type weed whacker since last summer.  I added to The Husband's text:  bring all our garden stuff home.  The last I'd heard about the weed whacker was that the handle had broken, and a replacement handle could not be found.  I told him to bring it home, anyway.  

About noon, I'd just gotten back from the garden, showered, and was cooling off under a fan on the back porch when I heard a vehicle go down Nanny's driveway.  Soon, I heard the lawnmower running.  Stepson had not remembered to check with us before starting to mow, or Son had forgotten to tell him.

After I'd cooled off, I drove my car to Nanny's to get the weed whacker, intending to bring it home so I could get the model number and maybe order a new handle.  Stepson had finished the mowing and skedaddled.  There were ribbons of tall grass he'd missed all over the yard.  

I tried to load the weed whacker into the trunk of my car, but it wouldn't fit.  It appeared that the handle had been fixed or replaced.  Good job, Son!  I left the weed whacker where it was and got the lawnmower so I could mow our yard.  I asked The Husband to go get the weed whacker in his truck, but he hasn't done it yet.  

Later today, I'm going to see if it will crank.  If it does, the over-grown phlox bed at the end of our house will be history.

About noon Wednesday, Granddaughter #2 texted me to ask if I would make her a birthday cake.  Her birthday was the next day.  The Husband and I were already planning to visit her on her birthday to take her some presents, but I had not factored in the time in would take to bake and decorate a cake.

I asked, "What kind of cake do you want?  And what time do you want me to bring it?"

She said she wanted "an orange crush cake, like the one you made me last time."  Her parents had rented a water slide, and a bunch of her friends were coming over from 11 until 3.

I cringed.  I was at work in a courthouse about 60 miles from home and had no clue what time I would get home.  I did not have the stuff to make an orange crush cake.  But I really wanted to make the cake for her.

As it turned out, The Boss came down from the courtroom while the text exchange was still occurring.  She said court was finished and I could have the rest of the afternoon off to make the birthday cake.

It took an hour to get back to town, 30 minutes for a grocery store run, and another 30 minutes from town to home.  There would be plenty time to make the cake and deliver it that night.

I came home and started baking.

While the cake was cooling, a friend called, wanting to know if I had any cucumbers to give away.  Boy, did I!  Fifteen minutes later, she showed up at my door, and we went to the garden.  Picked more than a 5-gallon bucket full of cucumbers.

I had about 30 minutes to spare between the cucumber picking and time to start dinner, plenty of time to frost the cake.  But I'd put the frosting in the refrigerator when I went to the garden, and it needed to warm up a tad before spreading it on the cake.  I set it on the table then took my laptop out to the back porch, turned on the fan (I was dripping sweat after the garden run), and sat down to check my email and do my daily crossword puzzle.  

I was back in the kitchen when The Husband came home from work.  He changed clothes, made himself a glass of ice water, and went out to the back porch to unwind.  After a few minutes, he came in the kitchen and said, "Well, you missed the excitement."

"What excitement?"

"The snake on the back porch."

I whirled around.  "What kind of snake?"

He said he thought it was a corn snake.  Or maybe a rat snake.  Or something.  When I asked him how big it was, he stretched his arms out wide.  

He had not killed it; he'd just shooed it out the screen door with a broom.  I nearly fainted when he told me he'd found it about six feet from the table where I'd been sitting.  

And it's out there, somewhere, still alive.

We delivered the cake that evening.  Last evening, we delivered the birthday present.  The birthday girl had given me a list of things she'd like to have for her birthday.  It was small all stuff - colored pens, a clipboard, fake eyelashes, t-shirts - so I bought her everything on her list.  She seemed most excited about the fake eyelashes.  :)  

Ain't this some sh*t - August 2, 2022

When I picked a couple of tomatoes Saturday, I noticed that a few more were turning.  It rained most of the day Sunday, so no gardening took place.  Yesterday, we spent the evening trying to locate the dead mouse, then had to cook supper.  Tonight, we planned to go to the garden after supper to pick the tomatoes that were ripening over the weekend.  

As we were eating, Nanny called to tell us that a tree had fallen into the garden.  It's one of those wild callery pear trees, which I have been begging for three years for the menfolk to cut down.

It knocked over several pepper plants, a couple of tomato plants, and squashed several hills of squash.

After I finished my hissy fit, I turned my attention to the tomatoes.  Well, guess what?

A squirrel had sampled EVERY ONE OF OUR RIPE TOMATOES.

SON OF A BITCH!

A Mouse in the House - August 2, 2022

Yesterday, when I came home from work and opened our bedroom door, a not-very-pleasant aroma hit me square in the nose.  It smelled like a dead mouse.

I changed out of my work clothes and began the hunt.  Didn't find anything.  Maybe it was my imagination . . . . 

Thirty minutes later when The Husband came home, he joined me on the porch and asked, "Did you smell a dead mouse in the bedroom?"  

I said, "YES!  Let's go find it!"  

We started in one corner and worked our way around the room, moving every piece of furniture, sniffing like a couple of bloodhounds.  We found a little bit of mouse poop behind the chaise, and a lot of dust bunnies everywhere, but no dead mouse.  The Husband removed the A/C intake panel; no mouse.  I opened drawers and doors; no mouse.  

We never found it.  I set a trap behind the chaise.

The Husband moved the Scentsy wax warmer to the bedroom.  The scent blended with the dead mouse smell, rather than masked it.

When I woke up in the middle of the night, the first thing I smelled was dead mouse.  I moved to a spare bedroom for the rest of the night.

It must be in the attic.

We'll never find it among all that junk.  

Wonder how long it will take to completely decompose?