Monday, January 16, 2017

January Pot Roast Fidget

January Pot Roast Fidget

            “NOW JUST a damn WHAT:  Your talking about my DINNER.”
            Of course it don’t
            To THEM.
            They’s FIXATED... ON IT.
            Seems... it started as a kitchen murmur; “Recipe”.  Murmur.  Yep:  From that New York Times.  They have this POT ROAST recipe that’s been THE recipe
            “ON THERE SIGHT”
            For a year.  Or whatever.  And it got itself into kitchen murmur in my house.
            In Maine.
            “THE HELL WITH THAT” I say:  This New York Times Mississippi Roast
            Cooked in Ranch salad dressing and Peperoncini.
            You read right.

            So that (the dressing et al) comes from the old suburban USA defense cookery crock pot roast of ...dumping a package of dried onion soup mix “ON TO” a pot roast in a crock pot to ...ah...
            LEAVE the state of Maine”.
            That didn’t stop this kitchen murmur this time;  they make it:  The Mississippi Roast.

            So we get a five pound chuck roast and had no problem keeping standards up doing that for the meat man “KNOW” “THAT” part.  And we got the jar of Peperoncini.  And we didn’t get a bottle of ranch dressing; we never even went DOWN the salad dressing isle.  We usually don’t go down that isle anyway.  So no one MISSED anything. 

            We put the roast in the (crock) pot.  Tossed a ‘quite a few’ of them Peperoncini on top and the... ah... SPOT... the top... of the roast set in the crock pot with the ranch dressing ‘mixture’ as directed.  It IS a “spot” on the top of the roast... YOU KNOW how much “one teaspoon of butter milk” is?  It is a.... “SPOT”.
            Anyway... this is at four-forty-five in the morning.  And (this assemblage) goes fast.  Then that roast, with the peppers and the spot, “COOKS” for twelve hours.

            Then it’s double spoon lifted out of the crock pot.  And placed on a platter.  And ‘seen if’ “IT” “PULLS APART”.  That’s the real good job to get with this ‘making this’.  Especially when no one happens to be looking.  SOMEONE’S got ta TEST IT (the meat).  Right?  AND:  Decant (de-grease) the ‘juice’ into a side bowl to ‘ladle’.  Them whole peppers (in the juice)  is cooked now and I can’t says as I’ve ever had (eaten) one of ‘em COOKED before so I eat a few of them and they are just about what you’d “THINK” being sort of mushed out.... bleached out.  But I liked ‘em okay.  And ate ‘em all over the course of the roast’s consumption (two full meals and two middling fair lunches) with noodles and (frozen) peas.  The Mississippi Roast was good but I was careful to not ‘gush’ and be sure to simply... “snake” the ‘it pulls apart’ roast... along steady... as a Maine man know how to do... around the Maine farm kitchen.

            IT (the Mississippi Roast) ain’t BAD.  Ain’t SPECIAL GOOD.  OR special WHAT EVER.  The chuck... and the juices it lets go... dominates.  I could ‘taste’ them peppers.  I don’t know what happened to the ‘spot’ of ranch dressing.  Didn’t seem to me that spot part would hold up under the cooking anyway and...
            I was, I suppose, VERY PLEASED that this ranch dressing spot
            DID NOT
            The roast...
            Which is all gone now.

Thursday, January 12, 2017

Why is "The Old Dark Blue" the "Old Dark Blue" in "Old New England" - Part Two - "The Other Stuff is Phony."

Why is "The Old Dark Blue"

The "Old Dark Blue"

In "Old New England".

Part Two

"The OTHER Stuff is Phony."

            As I stated (Part One)... it was a decade before I found my own “Old Dark Blue”.  This was a perfectly “right” find...:  Absolutely perfectly right with all the trimmings of all that it is... to be... the absolute perfect portrayal of the... “all about anyway” of ‘The Old Dark Blue’.  Yes... it was a ‘that fine’
            A find.

            This was found within my ‘first estate’.  Contents.  NOT JUST ANY OLD estate contents of the antiquarian’s mind’s eye.  No...:  It was ‘old school’; when estates were... ah... different.
            “Back then”.
            Then... ‘back then’ an ‘estate contents’ was applied to ...BE... (mean)... an old New England house in an old New England village that was the historic family home of the owners who were one of the original settlers of the village and always ‘live there’ (in the home) for as long as the... village had ever been there including this home being ‘one of the first houses built’, et al.   And... that family finally ‘died out’ (Part One).  And that that house also looks ‘old’, ‘abandoned’, ‘haunted’, ‘overgrown’, ‘full’ (of stuff)... AND located in the middle of the village so “EVERYONE” “ALWAYS” went by and sees it “ALL THE TIME”
            That kind of ‘estate contents’.
            I am not going to go on and on about this factor/feature.  These old houses used to be all over old New England.  THEY WERE OLD NEW ENGLAND.  They are gone now:  “CLEANED OUT”.  I did that:  “CLEAN” them “OUT”.

            I am writing about ‘the old dark blue’... in the ‘old New England home’.  That is just one small part of these old estate contents.  It is a very “telling” part.  VERY TELLING.  Most everyone knows nothing about that... at all.  It takes even the best student of these old New England homes a long time to discern that the old dark blue is TELLING that person about it (the old dark blue) being
            And for most of that ‘telling’... it is an... ‘after the fact’ discernment.  Too.  THAT aspect is not well known or understood too... so... already I have to serve notice that all of this ‘the old dark blue’ in ‘old New England’... has a ‘sand slips through the fingers’ FEATURE too.
            The only way out of these combining... merging... enigmas... in my field tested opinion... is to have “done enough” of all “this” (old New England estate contents... hands on that... SOME of this serves as some sort of short personal enlightenment that “there is something going on here” and one of the telling tellers is ‘the old dark blue’
            “In there”.
            Got it?  I don’t think so.  It took me decades and... I am still at it and... I am only now writing this “it” down.  From my personal vantage.

            Okay so ten years goes by from my dog door creep and I’m eighteen doing my first full bore “I BOUGHT IT” old New England estate clean out and I’m “IN THERE” “CLEANING IT OUT” for the three weeks working all day long these old estate clean outs “TOOK” to “DO”.
            Yeah, yeah, yeah: ‘grab and go’... I know.
            No... there is too much truly old ‘stuff’ in the ‘in there’ to do that (grab and go).  No.  One is forced to a very slow pace of ... cleaning EACH and every single THING ‘in there’ OUT.  SO... one day I “FIND” an Old Dark Blue ...sugar bowl... just as old and as busted up as that old sugar bowl I went through the dog door for... for my grandmother... ten years before (Part One).  It was all busted up but did have its original lid... with that being all chipped up too... “but there”.  It was a sugar bowl....:  I found an old dark blue busted sugar bowl....
            “In there”.
            That is point one.  Point two is ‘it’s a sugar bowl’.  Point three is ‘it is broken’; a fragment relic ‘in there’; a long ago no longer used or usable...  Point four... is... that this sugar bowl is the only... is the only... ‘piece’ of The Old Dark Blue... I find... in there (within the estate contents).  JUST THIS ONE BROKEN SUGAR BOWL.  No other ‘Old Dark Blue’.  “YEAH SO WHAT”.

            That’s the way I was about it.  Except, of course, that I... ah... LIKED (‘smitten with’ Part One) the Old Dark Blue busted sugar bowl... even though it had “ONLY” an English landscape scene of “GILEAD HOUSE”... and was ‘so busted’.  Yeah... I ...LIKED ...IT.  So... did not sell it for, like, the two bucks it was worth.  NO I ACTULLY ‘kept it around’... so to ‘keep around’.  And... I even, amongst others... went to hunt down my grandmother’s old dog door sugar bowl... and “LOOKED” (studied) that.  TOO.
            “Amongst  others” (above) included... TWO local old men antiques dealers who came around and I already knew ‘LIKED’ “The Old Dark Blue” so ... “LOOKED” (studied) the sugar bowl “ALL OVER”.  TOO.  And
            Stuff like that.
            I liked it.  I kept it.  Around; the THIS Old Dark Blue Sugar Bowl.  With the “English” “Scene” “on it”.

            Going back into the this estate contents and the this old sugar bowl being the ‘only dark blue in there’; this may be... tweaked.  There was ‘a lot’ of ‘old china’ in the estate contents.  MOST ALL OF “IT” dated from the popular ‘romantic’ ‘aesthetic’ 1835-1865-1880 English transferware eras... pumping along the design timeline to garner Victorian ‘china’ (Ironstone and European ‘hand painted porcelain’)... and pumping on to... “worse”, newer “cereal box” grade china to ... tacky... World War One... ish... “CHINA” dinner “SETS”... et al... with ONE OTHER TIME ZONE... included too... but
            THAT was THE... “OLDER” “CHINA”;  the broken fragment china ‘survivors’ from... and used by... this family “in the eighteenth century”.  “You missed that stuff?”  The unknowing clean outers always do... “miss that” unless the ‘they’ ‘know’ ‘early’.  I do... and did then... know.  So... for  example, I found an English polychrome Delft plate (c. 1760) (tin glazed earthenware hand paint decorated... but) long ago broken in half and brass ‘staple’ repaired... a long time ago TOO... and a second one... ‘staple repaired’ too.  AND a thing or two more of “THAT EARLY” “OLD CHINA”.

            What does that this mean?  It means that ...within the estate... when the estate was active... SOMEONE ‘in there’ “KNEW” and “CARED” about that family’s surviving “EARLY CHINA” and... ‘collected’ if only to “preserve” that “IT”.  The short answer?
            The sugar bowl... I found... ‘in there’
            Was a “THAT TOO”.  But... ah... I was a little... new to ‘this’... then.  And so are you now?
            Yes.  Perhaps though... the subliminal message is seeking you?  The Old (broken) (single inclusion) Dark Blue (sugar bowl) is messaging.  Sort of faintly somehow... in Old New England?  YOUR Old New England... of the inner old New England you... you feel:  “THINK” you “FEEL”? through an old broken sugar bowl.
            Why is what-why and what and a why
            About all of this ‘any of this’ anyway?

            Why?  Because... the OTHER stuff is phony and the ‘this’ is not phony.  It; The Old Dark Blue busted sugar bowls “IN THERE” (the Old New England Homes) tell a (the) real story of Old New England.  I already told you this is ‘telling’.  That story IS Old New England.  To this day.  It is a ‘now’ story too... and the old broken sugar bowls are here, in abundance... to prove it.  NOW...

            In abundance.  I just said that there are Old New England estate found relic condition The Old Dark Blue broken sugar bowls... in abundance now.  I... have been ‘finding them’; retrieving survivors from their castaway preservation within the old New England homes for... fifty years.  Yep... Me... THAT; a ‘rescue’.  All the time.  For decades.  I have plenty around right now.  I like them.  And their ‘around’.  It keeps my head clear... of all “the OTHER stuff is phony”.  They remind me... always... of ‘what is this all about
            So NOW that we have discerned the ‘relic’ of The Old Dark Blue in The Old New England... including finding ‘one of these’ at local thrift stores for a dollar ...unless that same thrift store threw it out because they “too broken” and... “don’t know”.  Oddly... those old girls at the church thrifts DO KNOW and DO CARE and do “price high” for JUST THE REASONS I’ve written down; they DO KNOW what this is all about
            So I am going to have to expand on the ‘back there’ of the ‘do know’.
            This is about sophistication of taste.  Good taste... bad taste... old New England taste.
            If anyone has this right... and are not phony... it is the old girls at the ...Old New England ...thrift stores.

Thursday, January 5, 2017

Why Is "The Old Dark Blue" The "Old Dark Blue" in Old New England - Part One - "All About Anyway"

Why Is "The Old Dark Blue"
"Old Dark Blue"
Old New England

Part One

"All About Anyway"

            If you have read the title of this note (blog post) then... you know more of... and about... this topic than the vast... “rest of them” including the ‘in New England’.  And... from reading the title... you now know ‘something’ about old New England “china” too.  It is a ‘JUST a LITTLE’... ‘know something’.
            But that’s enough for a ‘your start’.

            I know all about it (‘The Old Dark Blue’ in ‘The Old New England’).  I had an early start so let me start you back there and... come along from back there... and then too... you may come along.  Again: the subject is “The Old Dark Blue” in “The Old New England”.  Don’t worry:  Some people already know EXACTLY what I am writing about.

            When I was six... or five... but probably not four... I would walk up to the end of a street... that was “up past” The Common... in my (Maine, New England) village.  I walked with my Grandmother... every day, at early evening... all year round including the winter season.  It was not a ‘long’ walk or a ‘hard’ walk.  We, together, would just walk... “up and back”.  That was it.  Sometimes we’d talk.  Sometimes we wouldn’t.  We didn’t have any dog on a leash or something like that.  I suppose I was the ‘dog’ on the ‘leash’.  I’m not sure because I never ran off; the ‘a leash’ never ‘got tight’.

            After about two or three years of this walk; one day... ‘starting back’ at the end of the street where we always ‘turned around’... we were walking back
            Past a house that was then (late fall) “closed up” and “IS BEING SOLD”.  Too.  The former happened to all houses that were ‘summer places’ of the owners (the house’s “PEOPLE”).  The latter is what happened to these houses after the ‘people’ (owners) “died off”.  So what was happening at this house right then was “NOT” unusual; the house was ‘closed up’ and ‘being sold’.  So we would ‘walk by” that house during all this ...too.  My grandmother would call all of this a “we walked by the **** place”.
            “Oh.  They’re selling that you know.”
            “Yes.  I wonder what will happen to it.”  My grandmother would say.

            Well... she knew damn well what was going to happen “to the place” but never told me any of that.  She knew “the **** place” was going to be ‘cleaned out’ and SHE would be the one doing that cleaning out if SHE had anything to... well... very few ever ‘beat her’ on this; cleaning out... old houses.  But she never told me that.  Either.  I just walked up and down the sidewalk beside the street with her.  Then... the one late fall afternoon... when this place was closed up and being sold... and we were walking by... my grandmother left our usual sidewalk trail and skirted (literally in her skirt) across the front yard of the ‘closed up’ and ‘being sold’ ‘place’ to the ...front screened-in porch surrounding the front door.  She peered through the screening for a few minutes adjusting her view ever toward the left side where ‘the door to the porch’ was (on the left side).  I didn’t care what she was doing and saw nothing of interest to me at all... but ...trailed along behind her.  She was looking IN the screened-in porch but I was too small to do that.  Too.

            When we reached the front end at the left, where the porch went ‘back to the house’ and ‘had the door’... my Grandmother... peeked along that screen work too until she came to the screen door... that was latched from the inside; ‘closed’.  She peeked... then peered... ‘in’ there too.  Then she looked down at me... loyally standing next to her.  I looked up at her.  Her right foot went forward and kicked the lower right rectangle of the screen door and... there was there... a screen section that was very loose... while the other sections of the door were not loose... because this section was used ‘by their dog’ to ‘go in and out’ from the porch to pursue and ‘bark at’ people walking by on the sidewalk... ‘during the summer’.  We both knew this because we, too, endured these ‘go in and out’ “all summer” “bark at” of the ‘their dog’.

            My grandmother, after looking at me and kicking the loose screen, turned her view back upon the inside of the screened porch.  She said to me... jabbing her finger at the upper screen to emphasize that she spoke about INSIDE the porch... “GO (crawl through the dog’s screen door hole) in there and fetch me that pot in there; that BLUE one.” Then she turned and walked off back to and ‘down’ the sidewalk along the street.
            I could see the blue pot she ‘wanted me to get’.  It was ‘in there’ (the porch)... on a table.  Dirty.  A dirty blue pot on a dirty old table with some dead and dirty old ‘plants in pots’ too.  I could see it.  NO PROBLEM.  So I went in the dog’s door and ‘fetched it’ like I was told too.  And came back out the dog’s door.  And followed rapidly after my grandmother who was ‘pretty far down’ the street ‘already’.  I scampered after her... clutching the blue pot.  As I caught up to her... I actually... and I remember this concisely... looked at the blue pot:  I remember this clearly... looking at it... as I scampered.  It... was the old blue pot that my Grandmother told me to ‘fetch’ for her.  I did that and am now remembering looking at it and, superficially, wondering ‘what is it?’.  Well... I know now what it was (is). This was the first time that I ‘know’ I ‘saw’ and ‘handled’... “The Old Dark Blue”.  My grandmother was no idiot when it came to ‘fetching’.

            Exactly what the ‘blue pot’ was (is)... IS... A...
            Sugar bowl bottom missing its top (lid).  An Old Dark Blue... sugar bowl bottom... with old chips at all edges, broken and ‘old glued’ handles, old wandering spider web darkened ‘hairline’ ‘cracks’ and actual holes letting light in and leaking a contents out...:  An Old Dark Blue American Historical Staffordshire (earthenware) (“soft paste”) transferware “china” sugar bowl with a decorative historic scene showing “General” Lafayette visiting Benjamin Franklin’s “tomb” and reclining there amid the foliage and self reflections of his... for his... old friend.  In 1824.  This is a well known (“common”) (American Historical) “SCENE” to “collectors”
            “OF THIS” (The Old Dark Blue).
            I do not remember caring a hoot about the ‘that’ of ‘WHAT” “IT” “IS”.  But... I handed “IT” off to my grandmother and
            NEVER, ever, have ‘forgotten’ “IT”.
            My Grandmother gave “IT” a courtesy look while gripping this old blue pot with one hand.  Then... the pot disappeared from my sight for, well... maybe as long as a decade.   Yes:  Ten years.  Oh... it was ‘around’ in my Grandmother’s “STUFF” but I did not... handle and examine... “IT”
            For ten years.  Probably.  Did she know ‘what it is’?
            SHE absolutely KNEW exactly... when she saw it through the screen at the porch.  She had, I know now, “spied it” well before I went in the dog door.  All that... was just a need to “act”.  What she did... and asked me to do... is ...calmly... referred to as ‘a rescue’.  It is a “done” when that is the best way to... rescue... an antique from ‘being lost or destroyed.  If that is new to you... I advise that after a half century of ‘doing them’ it becomes ‘a nothing’ and a ‘right thing to do’ with ‘everyone’ (antiquarians) knowing about “HAVING” to “DO THIS”.
            Yes... that’s a way of looking at old china... isn’t it.  And yes it is a ‘deeper than that’ ... as the reader may be sensing... TOO.  That’s why I’m writing this down for you:  IT IS a ‘deeper’; this Old Dark Blue... Staffordshire... china... in Old New England.

            I... when I creeped out the dog’s door... had become... smitten... forever “WITH” The Old Dark Blue.  I did not know this for ‘at least’ ten years.  But when I found out I had “NO PROBLEM” being that; an Old Dark Blue Smitten.  My grandmother was a ‘long ago before you were born’ smitten.  She told me that... probably twenty-five years after the dog’s door creep.  My mother was smitten too.
            With the Old Dark Blue.
            What I have said (through my years at this) to the... any party’s inquiry... is that, simply, if one starts out with the old dark blue the way I did (creeping through a dog’s door)... you never forget ‘IT’ at all... ever... every time you see it anywhere ever no matter what and
            One tends to be around other people who know all about this too.  All about WHAT?
            All about ‘broken’ ‘old’ ‘china’ from the New England Federal settlement era; especially the Old... Dark... Blue
;            And its heritage in Old New England.  Heritage?  That is, for example, how my grandmother gripped the old sugar bowl bottom with her one hand when she... took it away from me.  And any behavior like that silent gripping.  She never told me any of this.  I had to find out for myself.  And I did.  IF... THEN... you want the ‘you will too’... you will too... have to do it... that way.  You will also... once you start on the ...Old Dark Blue... in Old New England... gather fellow travelers about you... soon enough.  

            I did not “start” or ‘know’ anything about this for ten years after my ‘first piece’ of Old Dark Blue.  And that was not even ‘my piece’.  It was my grandmother’s:  SHE FOUND IT.  It was over ten years before I “FOUND” my “FIRST PIECE”.  And started to learn and understand what this (the old dark blue heritage) is
            All about

Friday, December 30, 2016

The Turmoil

The Turmoil

            “The house is huge.  You know that.”
;            “Yes but...”
            “The ROOMS are huge.  And too many of them.  What do you do with all of them?
            The ceilings are HIGH; really high.  Someone could live up there; in that space.  You ever go up there?  On a ladder or something?  What’s that about:  You made them that way?  What are you thinking?”
            “Well... when the architects actually showed me their drawings I admit I didn’t understand their scale.”
            “Size.  It is all bigger than I thought.”

            “Watch your head.”
            “I always do”.
            “Your suppose to hit your head you know; it warns you your going inside.  Or coming out.  That’s why they made them (New England Colonial ‘cape’ doorways, especially the ‘back’ [north] doors) that way, low and small; to wake you up.  Make you tend to business.”
            “Tend to business?”
            “Yeah like remembering to close the door once your through.  No one ever leaves our doors open.”

            “Those are sliding glass doors.  They always leave them open.”
            “When you’re here.  Right now they are closed.  ‘CLOSED UP’ you call it.  Sliding glass closed up.”
            “Well we could open them.”
            “But your not going in there now.”
            “No, no... not this trip.  I just want to get the mast figures.  Take them down to the shop.  They wanted as much of the original paper drafts as I can find.  There’s a big bag of it.”
            “It’s heated in there isn’t?”
            “That shop’s always heated.  HOT in there actually.”
            “No.  Not the shop.  Your house.  It’s heated.  Right now.  The heats on.  Right?”
            “Of course it’s on.  But not much.”
            “What’s much?”
            “They keep it a fifty.”
            “Who’s they?”
            “The men who check the house.”
            “In this weather I figure I’m doing well if my house is fifty.  Touches forty overnight.”
           “Yeah but your house is a whole different thing.  You live in a log cabin compared to me.

            “Maybe you should get her an apple ladder to put in the ceiling space.”
            “Apple ladder?”
            “A ladder for picking apples.  An ‘old Maine tool’ in the classic sense.  All farms had one.  Maybe even three.  To put in an apple tree to pick the apples.  They’re an old Maine orchard tool.  I find ‘em in barns.  Or used to.  Most have been scalped off these days.  Already on display in someone’s high ceiling.  You know:  LOFT.”
            “They’re just a ladder?  What makes ‘em an apple ladder?”
            “Taper at the top.  Wishbone.  START normal ladder at the bottom then tapers down to nothing at the top.  To fit around the branches.  Really very nice.”
            “To look at.  With the taper.  Old wood.  Old surface.  Some can be really handsome.  An old set of three.  Good old ones.  That’s what you need.  Everyone will say something.  Cost you a little.  Actually... cost a nothing to you.  Wife like’s em.”
            “My wife likes them?”
            “She will.  My wife likes ‘em.  Can’t fit ‘em in our house.  Put ‘em out in the barn a few days and then sell ‘em.  Good ones sell good.  No problem.”
            “No problem?”
            “Yeah there’s always someone like you around with space for ‘em; the high ceiling set.”
            “High ceiling set?”
            “Same as the sliding glass door set.”
            “Same set?”
            “Keep the house at fifty set.”
            “I don’t understand you”
            “I don’t expect you would.”

            If the people ‘like that’; ‘from away’, buy an old Maine house on an old Maine lot that was once part of an old Maine property... and... tear it down in total or just ‘fully renovate it’... do I need them?
            Yes.  I do.  As an antiques dealer.  There is always a chance they will ‘get serious’ about furnishing their home-of-their-doing (“summer place”) with antiques
            They buy from me.
            After that and otherwise... most things do not draw us together.
            I cut my own firewood, haul my own firewood, store my own firewood and burn my own firewood.  I never ‘get enough’ and ‘always run out’.  That is the way it is.  The big house folk buy their firewood; hardwoods in split professional uniformity, and ‘have it stacked’
            In the garage.
            Never stack firewood in a garage... and who has a garage anyway.
            I burn all my firewood up all the time.  That’s what it’s for.  The big house has the same stack of firewood in their garage
            For years.  Sometime they use some sometimes for a fire sometime... on, like, a cool day of July rain.  “The fire feels nice”.  They say.

            I have one snow shovel... and a backup in case the wife suddenly wishes to ‘join in’.  That never happens.  Big house folk have their house ‘plowed’, ‘shoveled’ and ‘sanded’.  They are ‘not there’ and the house is ‘heated to fifty’.  I have a plow on a truck that I hope will start when I need it ‘to plow’ out.  I hope, each winter, I don’t have to do that... much.  I also don’t like it to get really cold.  The truck won’t start and I have to turn the furnace on; burn some oil to ‘keep the pipes from freezing.  If I don’t do that I run the risk of the faraway cold spots in our little house... ‘freezing up’.  I don’t like plumbing problems in the winter.  “No one does”.  In my little world.
            I park the truck at a certain angle in front of the barn doors where, there, the winter sun blasts its radiance... right on the hood of the truck so that... maybe... it will start... “around one-thirty in the afternoon”.
            “WHY DO YOU PARK THE TRUCK UP THERE?” the big house man asked me
            Before the storm
            When he came to “SEE” an apple ladder:  “THAT’S WHAT THAT IS.”  He, looking it over, said he “WILL TELL HER ABOUT IT”.  No sale.
            I’m used to that.

            He kept his dog in his car.  One of his (their) dogs.  We don’t have any dogs.  They are expensive.  A luxury.  A vanity.  Big House would like to let his dog ‘run’ here at my place but he knows it will go directly to the compost and eat its fill.  That’s why I have compost piles?  Yeah.  Sure.  That’s why.  His dog loves bacon grease.  Big House looked around in our (farm) yard.  I saw him look at the compost.  I could see his wheels turn.  Or maybe I saw his dog’s bowels churn.  Right?  Anyway; he’s got that figured out.

            Before he came over I ate a bowl of chicken soup for lunch.  We save the bones we generate; put ‘em in a bag in the freezer.  Every two weeks or so she make a broth (“soup”) of them and then I use that as a base for my lunch.  She puts in onions, celery and carrots.  I add some pulled chicken, a chicken leg if I’m lucky and some broccoli.  Piping hot... lunch.  Just before Big House cell calls to say
            He’s on his way.
            I need something in me to stand my ground.  Big House COULD actually buy something... but he has no idea WHAT that could be and neither do I.  So I have to ‘get ready’.  To ‘deal with that’.  You know what I’m talking about.
            We don’t have chickens.  Did once... for sixteen years.  Too expensive now:  A luxury.  A vanity.  Now.  There are so many ‘egg men’ around now I can get as many farm fresh eggs as I want all the time every time AND they still got “MORE”.  How many eggs do I eat anyway?  Not that many.  

            They say it’s farm fresh eggs.  They ain’t.  What that damn food they feed ‘em; that “layer mash” in the big feed store bags.  Yeah; that stuff.  They all feed ‘em that.  Got the feeder boxes.  Yeah:  What is that stuff.  Just think about it.  Use that and egg cost goes UP and ...what is that stuff... from the local feed store?  Really.  The whole little guy egg thing needs to be ‘looked into’ (think about it with a pencil and paper; you ARE loosing money):  And... if they eat ‘that’ do I want to eat ‘that’ too?
            “I don’t think so”.
            Big House is always talking about “EGGS” he “BOUGHT”.  You know; ‘bought local’.  Farmer’s market.  He gets himself a couple of “DANISH” too.  He likes those with the goo-gob of “raspberry jam”.  Awful lot of raspberries go to ‘jam’.  I like my raspberries fresh picked and mashed up in a bowl with just a... goo-gob of vanilla ice cream.  Not too much ice cream.  Pick the berries your self.  YOU AIN’T GONNA GET A TICK on you JESUS”.
            Okay tick:  Stay inside the big house.  Leave the Maine wilderness to Professional Mainers.

            At the boat yard, down by the shop, Big House’s boat is under the cover at the left; beside the shop.  “It’s being worked on”.  What’s being worked on?  Nothing.  What’s it need worked on?  Nothing.  Been ‘sailed’ in the water almost seven hours since he bought it six years ago.  So it always needs to be ‘worked on’.  Get it.  Too bad I can’t sell him some antiques to put on that boat.  His wife DOES entertain on it.  The boat HAS been used to ‘entertain’ they call it.  At the start of summer (Memorial Day) they ‘put it in’.  Then nothing happens.  THEN...:  All get in the dingy and go out and ‘entertain’ “ON IT” ‘in the harbor’ until it ‘gets dark’.  Then they go back to the big house.  It all makes sense.  Right?  I just want to get some money out of it.

            Big House always has to come in our house when he is the ‘come over’.  He agitates until he gets ‘taken in’.  Yep:  Agitates.  You know it when you see it with these folk:  NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT (us living like that).  “YOU REALLY DO LIVE LIKE THAT.” he told us.  Told all the from away folk too.  Back there; from away.  He’s in Connecticut.  The part of Connecticut that is part of Manhattan.  You know; everyday... back and forth.  “FARM FRESH EGGS” to that I say.  Anyway.  He ducks his head pretty good now and noses around.  Sniff’en the air.  Bread baking.  Two loaves.  Don’t go given HIM one.  Still to hot anyway.  “OH YEAH WE EAT THAT HOMEMADE BREAD all winter long TOO JESUS”.  He’s a courteous gent.  Knows good behavior when he’s in the enemy’s camp.  I told him:  “Living here.  FOR YOU:  This is just one long camping trip we’ve been on.  Over sixty years we’ve be ...just camping out.”  He sort of got it.  Brushing my teeth outside in the yard is a stretch.  He’s used to hovering over the sink with the hot water going ‘full’.  That’s the real truth here:  It’s a real lot of very small things that
            Creates the turmoil.
            Of course he could still buy something.