Last One

            This is the last one. The last letter blog of the year. The next time we meet it’ll be a new year and I’ll regale you with letter blog facts of 2023.

“When do you want to start on the kitchen cabinets?” my handsome mountain man asked.

“After Christmas,” I told him.

Christmas came.

And so did Christmas dinner.

“What did you make?” I know you wanna know.

We’d gotten a ham from Walmart and I made deviled eggs, mac and cheese, green beans, cranberry sauce, and for dessert, a Marie Callender’s Apple Crumb Pie.

Mike cut the spiral-cut ham from the bone while I was getting everything else to the table. I snagged a piece.

“Mike, that ham doesn’t taste good to me.”

Mike took a bite. “It tastes okay to me.”

I fear I’m cursed with my mother’s sensitive taste buds.

“What did you eat before you ate the ham?” he wanted to know, thinking it tainted my taster.

“Just a deviled egg.” I tried another piece of ham from a different part of the ham. “It just doesn’t taste good to me. I’m not eating any.” I don’t know if I know what a bad processed ham tastes like or if this was the flavor of the brine they used to cook it. Either way, I wasn’t eating it.

Mike, on the other hand, did eat some of the ham with his dinner. “I feel bad that you didn’t get any ham.” He’s thoughtful like that.

“It’s okay,” I reassured. “There’s plenty of other food. Besides, I have to save room for some of that apple pie.”

After a few more bites of ham, Mike says, “I think I taste what you were tasting,” and he didn’t want any more of it either.

We gifted the ham to the critters.

I’m guessing that once Christmas dinner was over, Christmas was officially over, because we started renovating my old, temporary kitchen that afternoon.

“Did you take pictures?” Mike asked.

“I didn’t think to until after you took the cabinet out,” I replied.

In the big empty space under the counter used to live a nine-drawer buffet-style piece of furniture. I guess it could’ve been a dresser. You may have seen it in other pictures through the years. Every drawer contained something, everything from dish towels to measuring cups and spoons to a junk drawer or, I confess, two junk drawers.

The first thing we had to do before putting in the cabinets was fix the plumbing. The bathroom has a grinder pump that pumps up over the ceiling in the kitchen, comes down the kitchen wall where it joins the gravity-fed line, and goes out to the septic tank. My desk backs up to the bathroom wall and the pump is in a utility/broom closet just off to my right. I hear the hum of the pump as it kicks on. For seven going on eight years now, probably several times a day every day, when the pump kicks on, I jump up and close the stopper in the kitchen sink. The water comes down so fast that it sucks the water from the trap and if I don’t shut the stopper and put a little water on top, I’ll get a smell. A stink. The unmistakable aroma of L’égout. The sewer.

Mike got his little scooty and a drywall saw and went to work cutting the drywall.

He hadn’t gone very far when the enormity of the job struck him and he went for his little battery-operated circular saw. Instead of taking half an hour (or more), he had the wall off in five minutes. He cut the insulation, exposing the sewer line. Now he could see what he would need to buy to fix it.

“Can you live with it like this until tomorrow?” he asked.

“Sure.” I’m my mother’s daughter. I can do whatever I have to do.

That night we made plans for the next day. “What time do you want to leave in the morning?” Mike asked.

          I turned it around on him. “What time do you want to leave?”

          “I’d just as soon get over there and back. The earlier, the better.”

          “See!” I exclaimed! “That’s why you need a hobby! When you have something to do, you can’t wait to get to it!”

          Mike was quiet for a moment. He tends to think before talking, unlike someone else in this house. “No. It’s just that when I start something I like to get it done. Besides, I have a hobby.”

          “Watching TV is not a hobby!”

          We left early and I got some foggy road pictures for you.

          You see this one? There’s an eagle’s nest nearby and I always look to see if the eagle is here. I don’t see him very often but I always look. This morning he was sitting in the tree and I didn’t get my camera up in time. I missed it.

            I loved the mistiness of the morning.

The sun started to open his eyes and burn off the fog. 

I did catch the silhouette of a hawk hunting for breakfast. 

We pulled into the parking lot of the hardware store and I noticed the word “stump” spray-painted across the back of the loading dock.

“Why’s it say stump?” I asked Mike. I’m thinking tree stump. But why would there be a tree stump in the loading bay? Did they build it around a tree stump? Maybe it means there’s something there to hit.

“I don’t know,” Mike answered.

It takes forever to find the right plumbing parts. You have all these bins with all different sizes and angles.

I looked up in time to see a female employee passing the end of the aisle. She stopped. “Can I help you find something?” she asked politely.

Too often I’ll ask a store employee for help only to find out they don’t know where stuff is either and they have to find it the same way I do, by looking. The last thing I wanted was to have a third body in the short, narrow aisleway looking for something if she didn’t know where it was. “Do you know anything about this stuff?” I asked.

“Sure. What do you need?”

Mike told her and much to my chagrin, she zeroed right in on it and got the part Mike needed. Then did it twice more. I put on my most sheepish smile, and with an apology in my voice, I thanked her.

Heading to the checkout, I see a pretty yellow kitty sleeping on a pile of dog beds. I had to make a detour and pet the cat.

“Why does it say stump on the loading dock?” I asked the lady at the checkout.

“It has something to do with the way it dips down. I don’t really understand it myself.”

I Google it.

STUMP OUT: A term that describes the inability of a fork truck to drive back up onto the dock leveler from the truck because the lip has folded so far down as to prevent the fork truck from driving up its incline.

“I drove truck for a lot of years,” Mike said. “I never heard of it.”

Outside I see two more cats but only get a picture of this one, his head lifted as he smells the underside of the truck.

It reminded me of our old cat, Macchiato. He had free run of the parking lot at our old business and often times the tenants allowed him into their stores as well. Macchiato would sometimes claim the cars in the parking lot.

“That cat just backed up and pissed all over the bumper of my expensive car!” a guy complained.

What can you do? We shrugged and walked away.

The guy got in his car and took off for the car wash.

The back of the hardware store was littered with old stuff.

“You want an old fridge?” I asked.

“Peg! That would be stealing. That’s not very Christian of you!” he admonished.

I’m so glad I have Mike to keep me in line. But I was only joking. I would, however, go in and ask about it if it was something he wanted. How we would get it home would be his problem.

Our next stop was Aldi’s for a couple of things, then Walmart for a couple of more things.

I took the tag and the label from the ham and went to the Service Desk.

“I just bought this ham a few days before Christmas and its good-by date is in January and it wasn’t good,” I told the gal. “We threw it out. I don’t have my receipt but maybe you could find it?” She scanned my Discover card and found the receipt in the system.

And she refunded me the twenty-five and change we spent on the ham.

Stores keep track of how often you return stuff. Since we don’t return things very often, I guess she believed me. If she knew me, she would know that I don’t lie.

We get home and dump the plumbing parts out on the floor. Raini trotted over and added her contribution.

“Sorry. I can’t play right now,” I told those sad, pleading eyes.

It didn’t take too long to put in the new line — and we didn’t have to do it twice.

Mike cut the old line coming from the bathroom and capped it. He reduced the size of the pipe and added some turns.

This slows the water down enough that it doesn’t suck out the trap in the kitchen sink anymore. Nonetheless, it’s been fixed for four days now and every time the pump hums, I start to jump up out of my chair to shut the stopper. Old habits die hard.

          We put the wall back together and opted not to tape and mud the cracks.

          “The cabinets’ll cover it anyway,” I pointed out. “So why bother?”

          Mike was tuckered out anyway and went to do his other hobby, watching TV.

          With a few afternoon hours left, I started on a late Christmas gift. A stained glass window.

          I love our new pastor, his beautiful wife, and great kids. While visiting with Miss Rosie one day a few months back, Mary, Pastor Jay’s wife, saw the window I made for Rosie and really loved it, according to Miss Rosie. Although Christmas was months away, I decided right then and there that I’d make one as a Christmas gift for Mary. And that’s why you have to be careful what you say.

          I found an old window at a junk store. It wasn’t until I was sanding it that I realized what a great old window it was. The frame isn’t just nailed together, it’s put together like a piece of art. Beautiful! I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a window put together like this one, not that I have much experience with windows. This is only the second one I’ve attempted.

          I didn’t have a counter to work on, no place to put the grinder, so I thought I’d just make my designs and rough-cut my pieces. I’d finish them later. But I had to have someplace to lay the frame out and that’s how it happened to be on the table.

          Spitfire helped.

          The next day we went to work setting cabinets. The first step was to put down a barrier between the concrete floor and the cabinets. We rolled the old carpet back.

          Spitfire helped here, too.

          “Peg, what’s that yellow stuff you put down?” you ask.

          I laugh. Ha ha ha! It’s not yellow. It’s a shiny, thick aluminum foil-type stuff reflecting the sunshiny yellow wall.

          We set the cabinets. Mike screwed them together to keep them in place.

          We put the old countertop back on and I was back in business! Mike went off to hold down his recliner and rest his poor achy back, I set up the grinder and went to work on the window.

          A few hours later, Mike comes out to where I was working.

          “Uh-huh. I see how this goes. The whole kitchen is your craft room!” he said good-naturedly.

          I laughed. I was spread out the whole way down the counter. “Not just the kitchen...” I made an all-encompassing sweep with my arm, “...this whole house is my craft room!”

          “I thought I’d put a few handles on,” Mike said. I took a break from grinding and let him work.

          “When do we put the sink and the rest of the cabinets in?” I asked.

          “We can’t do any more until the heat tape comes.”

          A few times every winter, on the coldest of cold nights, the water at the sink freezes. We’ll take the wall apart and see if we can find where the air is coming in and stuff it with more insulation, but just for insurance, Mike’s going to wrap it with heat tape.

          “When will it be here?” I asked.

          “Sometime next week.”

          That meant I was free to work on Mary’s window.

          I’d already bought three pieces of came, thinking it was plenty. It wasn’t. I only had enough to do three of the six panes.

          “You want to go to Vestal tomorrow?” I asked Mike.

          “Not really.”

Now he sounded like me! I never want to go anyplace! I love my house. I love being home. I love making pretty things for those whom I love. And I’d love to make a few pieces to sell, too. You know, put a little somethin’-somethin’ back in the kitty.

          “I need more came to finish Mary’s window.”

          Mike’s a good husband and agreed to drive me.

          “What time do you want to leave tomorrow?” he asked.

          “There’s no reason to leave too early in the morning. The glass shop doesn’t open till noon.”

“We can stop at Lowe’s and Sam’s Club first,” Mike said.

We didn’t need much from either store so we allotted an hour.

          Can you say, “Road pictures!”

          We were going through one of the small towns between here and Vestal, and saw a sad, sad sight. Someone has lost their home.

          I know that some places have stopped picking up roadkill to save on money. Me, personally, I’m happy to see them getting the dead deer off the roads. All it does is draw other critters that end up getting killed as well.

          An old spring.

This house used to be filled with love.

          “How do you know?” you ask.

          Because there’s a heart by the door.

          In Vestal we went to Lowe’s and got a new strainer for the sink and the rest of the handles for the cabinet doors.

          Our next stop was Sam’s Club.

          It was lunchtime and there was a long line at the food counter. In front of me was this guy.

          Hey! I thought to myself. I know what that kind of haircut is called! I just read the word the night before in the book I’m reading.

          I’ve read thirty-four books this year. Three others I couldn’t get into and sent back to the library early. The book I’m reading now was made into a movie and it’s called Leave the World Behind. I haven’t made up my mind yet if I’m going to finish it or send it back. In the book, Amanda started her career in the studio of a temperamental Dane with a haircut like a tonsure.

          The nice thing about an e-reader is if you don’t know what a word means you can tap on it and get the definition. So much easier than in the old days when you’d have to write it down and look it up in the dictionary later.

          “Why later?” you wanna know. “Why not when you see the word?”

          Because I read in bed at night and I’m not getting up to look up a word. That really decreases the chances that I’ll look it up at all. But in this case, I already knew what a tonsure was. It’s the style of haircut the monks wore. No hair on top.

          We had our hot dog and shared a slice of pizza, picked up a couple of things, and headed out to the glass shop. There, I had to dig through the box of cast-off, bent, and twisted came to find some that would match what I was already using.

          “I hate that stuff and never use it,” Carole said. “I should make you a deal on it.”

          I’d be open to a deal but didn’t pursue it. There’s such a mishmash of stuff in the box that I don’t know if there’d be enough of any one kind to complete a job.

          We had rain on the way home. I looked for and found the eagle overlooking the same pasture where I saw him last time. Eagles are territorial and these are his hunting grounds.

          I’m thinking the next time we make the trip, if there is a next time, I’ll bring my long lens and see if I can’t get a better shot of him.

          We stopped at our local grocery store for an additional item and who should we run into?

          “Who?” you ask.

          That handsome couple, Lamar Kipp and Miss Rosie! 

          Besides my materials, I’ve got four days of work and two trips to Vestal, New York in this window. Vestal is about forty-five miles and a little over an hour away one way.

The window is twenty-eight by twenty-four inches in size. I know it’s not perfect — but I’m not going to point out the flaws to you.

I posted a picture of it on Facebook, thinking of my cousin Shannon. Not so very long ago she was at a craft fair and saw a window that had stained glass pieces glued to the window panes — and they were asking two hundred dollars for it!

I wonder what this would be worth, I thought but didn’t ask.

I took Mary’s window to church on Sunday to give to Mary. I was there before she was but Pastor Jay was already there.

“Think she’ll like it?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sure she will. I like it! It’s beautiful!” he complimented.

A few minutes later, Mary came in with the rest of the Bucci clan.

          “Peggy made a stained-glass window,” Barbara greeted Mary at the door.

          I was close by. “Barbara!” I warned.

          Mary looked at me, confusion on her face. She walked towards where I stood in the sanctuary.

          “Merry Christmas!” I said and nodded toward the window where Pastor Jay had propped it up.

          Mary looked, then looked at me. “For me?”

          I grinned and nodded. “For you!”

          She looked at it again.

          “Do you like it?”

          “Like it‽ It’s beautiful! Thank you! Now I’ll have to find a place to hang it.”

          Mary held out a pretty box with a snowman on it to me. “This is for you.”

          When my best girl Jody came in, she saw Mary’s window and said, “The picture didn’t do it justice. It’s much prettier in real life.”

          With these two beauties fresh in your mind, let’s call —

          “Peg! Wait-wait-wait! What did Mary give you?” you want to know.

          Mary makes the best gingerbread cookies with cream cheese filling! And she gave me six of them! Even if you’re not crazy about gingerbread (like me) you’ll love, love, love these cookies! The combination of gingerbread and cream cheese is amazing! I can’t stop eating them!

          And now, let’s call this one done!

          Done!