We made it through a vortex

Thank you, Valiant But Tiny Hair Dryer.

It’s been quite a week, even besides all the national fuckery.

Friday a week ago, I was upset about the weather forecast. 

Me:  Is it going to snow tonight?  And when is the polar vortex coming?!

Common Household Husband:  [burps loudly].  That was it.  That was the polar vortex.

If only it were that simple. 

Sunday the CHH pulled something out of his sweatshirt pocket, and said, “I wonder why I have this in my pocket?”  It was a tiny glass duck.  Reminds me of the time I cleaned out my purse and found a small plastic dinosaur, left over from mom-of-small-children times.  The CHH put the duck back into his pocket.

Wednesday morning I discovered that our hot water pipe at the kitchen sink was frozen.  It's been years since this happened.  We used to have to drip the faucet if the weather got cold, but then we fixed it, by encasing that pipe in lots of insulation and closing up the area behind a drywall panel in the garage ceiling.  Since then we haven't dripped the faucet in cold weather, and the pipe has not frozen.

But this week’s polar vortex hell-freezing-over cold was too much for it.  And the cold water pipe froze too, at the kitchen sink faucet.    

It was COLD.  “How cold was it?”  It was around -12 F overnight (without the wind chill) and wasn’t much warmer during the day.  Hell has, in fact, frozen over, and all its inhabitants resurfaced this week in the nation’s capital.

The Common Household Husband cut his work day short to come home. We set to work in the 10-degree-F cold garage.  He unscrewed all six screws and removed the panel.  This took a while because we are not Michelangelo and we’re not used to working at the ceiling level.  

He pulled out the thick insulation, and pushed our Valiant But Tiny Hair Dryer up in there.   It died after about a minute.  I felt the universe telling me, “You’re gonna need a bigger hair dryer.”

Not a great place for a hair dryer

I was on hair dryer resurrection duty.  First I went upstairs to vainly look for another hair dryer.

Back to the basement.  I coaxed VBT Hair Dryer to life.  It ran for a few more minutes, enough to get one of the water pipes flowing!  Yes! 

Success!

Then to get the other water pipe freed, we had to go to the other side of the wall, in the basement.  At least there is no panel there.  VBT Hair Dryer quit twice more, but I resurrected it each time.  

Sticking the hair dryer WAY into the wall.

Although he was victorious against the polar vortex, the CHH was covered in drywall dust, and got some in his lungs (not good!), which periodically set him coughing.  He put his sweatshirt in the washing machine.  Later, in the dryer, I found the tiny glass duck that he had had in his pocket.

The duck survived.  I am trying to decide if that is a portent.

Resilient duck.

Oy Vey Begorra!

Gratuitous photo of Irish Soda Bread,
which has little to do with this post
but looks a lot better, even with the
burnt raisins and all, than the
raw meat pictured below.

On March 15th the Common Household Husband pranced into the house, delighted, and presented me with a beef brisket.  He was very excited. He claimed it was right at the front of the grocery store and that it was so exciting to have one of his favorite meats right there within easy reach.  And on sale! his mother exclaimed from beyond the grave.  

I doubted his story, as whenever I have wanted a beef brisket for Passover I have had to request it from the butcher at the grocery store.  It takes them a good while to trim it, and it is never on sale.

Two food items I don't particularly like:
Samoa Girl Scout Cookies and
raw corned beef brisket.

But it turned out it was a corned beef brisket.  It was at the front of the store in sale-ebration of that Americanest of holidays (third after Superbowl Sunday and Cinco de Mayo), St. Patrick’s Day.

Oy vey iz mir! Corned beef is not Irish (nor Cornish, which would be reasonable to assume) but hails from Eastern Europe.  For those who would like to explore the history of corned beef, I am here to provide: The link.  As the article says: 

...what we think of today as Irish corned beef is actually Jewish corned beef thrown into a pot with cabbage and potatoes.

I have no idea how to cook corned beef.  I don’t even like corned beef.  But by Friday (St. Patrick’s Day) I realized I had to do something with our bovine windfall. I girded my loins and set my face toward the kitchen.

There is no way that a food with that many 
mentions of sodium can be healthful for us.

I looked up some slow cooker recipes.  They are written as if the cook is intending to make corned beef, wants to make corned beef, even to the point of wanting to pick which kind of cut to buy.

Having seen a photo of some meat-n-spices on Facebook I had an inkling that some kind of corny spices would be required to make corned beef.  I imagined I would have to pickle the meat in those spices for several days, but I was wrong.  Nevertheless, we had no set of spices, and no knowledge of what those spices should be.

This photo does not fully
reveal the disgustingness of the
contents of the meat package.

Lo and behold, nestled in the mucky fat-blood mixture surrounding the meat was a “flavor packet”.  I could no longer use lack of spices as an excuse to escape cooking the corned beef, but did have to pause to get over the disgustingness of the beef schmaltz.

The flavor packet, washed in the blood,
and then washed in the sink.

I ended up mostly using the recipe on the meat package.  I put sliced onions in the bottom of the crockpot, put the hunk of corned beef brisket on top, then the spices from the flavor packet, and finally surrounded the meat with water, just like a fleshpot of Egypt.  Other recipes exhorted me to add things like carrots, potatoes, cabbage, and beer, but I had little interest in the outcome so I ignored those suggestions.  I cooked that sucker in the crockpot for about 8 hours.

The result of my travails

The result was stupendous!  The Common Household Husband took one bite and was carried back to the joys of his childhood meals, just like the restaurant critic in the movie Ratatouille (in which the chef was a rodent).  Our corned beef brisket was declared to be Very Good, which is high praise around here.  It did not quite reach the gold standard which is “It’s as good as the steak at Harvey Kahn’s bar mitzvah.”

I remained distrustful of the corned beef but have to admit it was quite tender.  The best part was that it lasted for several days so I didn’t have to figure out what to have for dinner for two more days. I used the extra time to make Irish Soda Bread, which I find much more tasty.

Weedy Thoughts

The so-called Hillside Garden

The Common Household Husband and I went outside on this day of uncommonly gorgeous weather.  We examined a part of our yard.  This particular plot is what we call “the hillside garden”, a short steep slope near the front of our yard, leading up to the neighbor’s yard. It may not merit being called a garden, as it has poor soil and is too steep to easily pull out weeds or plant new plants.  In the past 20+ years I constantly battled to grow anything beautiful there. Last year I gave up, and now it is overrun with grass, would-be green onions, large nasty-looking weeds, and evil-looking thorny thistlies.  

The same section of Hillside Garden in 2008.
There was columbine, azalea, phlox, and allium (unknown bulbs)

For some reason, this plot of land is deemed to be “my” garden.  I said to the CHH, “This part of my garden used to have phlox and day lilies and snow-in-summer.  Now look at it.  I think the guy who put the mulch on covered up all the good stuff.”

CHH:  I pulled out a lot of things yesterday.

Me: (eager to cast my gardening sins onto anybody else)  Did you pull out any phlox?  Do you even know what phlox looks like?  Nobody knows what phlox foliage looks like.

Phlox, 2011

It’s hard to face the truth, but verily, verily, the sorry state of this garden is not due to anything the landscaper did, nor to the actions of the CHH.

    

For the desire to do good gardening lies close at hand, but not the ability. For I have erred, and strayed from the ways of good gardening like lost earthworms. I have followed too much the devices and desires of my own heart, sitting around lazily reading novels and looking at cat memes on the internet. I have left undone the weeding which I ought to have done; And there is therefore no health in this garden.

- The Book of Exertions 7:18-20

Then we turned to examine the plot that CHH claims as “his” garden, which is on the eastern side of the house.  For this strip of garden, about two feet wide and running along the side of the house, a few years ago we brought in some excellent soil from elsewhere and started a new garden with fresh and bright new plants.

The Husband's Garden flourisheth.

CHH  Look how wonderful my garden is doing!

Me: Yes, it is.  

His garden is overflowing with healthy plants and many cheery yellow blooms that I don’t know the name of, and vibrant dianthus, which I do know the name of.  This plot requires almost no weeding, and there are no weeds evident now.   

I looked more closely at one spot. 

Photo credit: Common Household Husband.
He titles this photo "Suspicious Mounds".

Me: That’s an anthill right there.

CHH: No, it’s not.

Me:  It’s an anthill.

I was a bit alarmed because of past unpleasant gardening encounters with stinging ants.

CHH:  How do you know?  Are you an epitologist?

Me:  (I paused to try and understand this new field of study)... Umm, what? That’s an anthill, for sure.

CHH:  Are you an epidemiologist?  I mean are you an epistemologist?  How do you know this is an anthill?

Current weeds at the top of the Hillside Garden.
Capitalizing it makes it seem like it should
be in a novel.  Those green onions
could have been ornamental onions, 
but instead, they are a mess.

At that moment, my weedy thoughts had paralyzed my brain’s vocabulary synapses.  I wanted to correct these second and third fields of study that had been introduced in the conversation, but at that moment I could not think of the word “entomologist”.  So instead I studied the anthill more closely, hoping that I had the right glasses, ones that would enable me to see if there were any ants.  A lot of my life these days consists of not having the right glasses on, and not being able to remember the right word.

Me:  Look. There’s one ant, two, three, and another one.  It’s hard to count them because they are moving around.  This anthill is very close to the house.  (A horrible thought occurs to me.)  The ants are probably crawling up inside the wall of the house at this moment!  We’ll have to notify Netflix next time they come out.    Wait, not Netflix…

CHH:  We have to notify The Culligan Man.

Me:  Terminix!  We have to notify Terminix. 

A quick glance at Dr. Google reveals that ants are mostly good for the garden and yard, helping to protect plants against other harmful insects, and also aerating the soil.  These ant mounds are quite close to the house, though, so we have a decision to make.  The likely outcome is that Ant Inertia will move in, and the formicidae will be left alone.

Phlox and hyacinths growing in the
Hillside Garden, 2019

A Common Household Austen Odyssey

Without love, we are indeed toast.
American Visionary Art Museum
Baltimore, Maryland.  2016.

I am blessed beyond measure to be in two book clubs.  One is the Page Turners’ Book Club (started by a pianist).  This group, all women, picks all its books for the year at once, and makes a point of reading lit related to women during March, Women’s History Month.  For March, our pick was Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen.

The other book club was started by the Common Household Husband Himself in 2015.  This book club picks next month’s book at the end of each meeting.  After reading the well-written but anxiety-producing Innocent Blood by P.D. James for this book club in February,I was ready for a calmer read, and lobbied the CHH book club to take the leap back to the early 1800s and read Pride and Prejudice. The choice had plusses and minuses:  I would get to kill two reading assignment birds with one stone, but because I suggested the book, I therefore became the discussion leader.  

Late February

As I start in on P&P, I notice that the nearly-free e-book edition I got 10 years ago is rife with typos, and instead of italics, the emphasis is provided by using ALL CAPITALS.  This was acceptable to me in 2011 but is now intolerable to me in 2022.  

Wanting to get the Penguin publisher’s digital edition, I search for “Pride and Prejudice Penguin”, and get this as the top result:

Pride, Prejudice & Penguins: A More in Heaven and Earth Magical Academy Pride and Prejudice Variation, by Katherine Gilbert.

According to the Amazon blurb, it includes penguins, magic, a medieval castle on a Scottish island, an elf king, and possibly sarcastic talking cats, although it is unclear if sarcastic talking cats are included in this book, or only in other books by this author.

Early March

The Common Household Husband is partway through Vol. 1 of the original Pride and Prejudice; it is not to his liking. Perhaps he would prefer the one with the penguins & magic. 

At dinner, the CHH wonders aloud at possible P&P plot twists: “When will Mr. Darcy reveal that he prefers other men?  When will Mr. Blingley say that he planned all along to have a  mistress immediately after marrying?  When will one of the characters become destitute?  When will the owner of the estate own up to a gambling problem, such as investing in the shipping industry, and the ship goes down?”  

Apparently the plot is not swift enough for CHH, especially compared to the P.D. James psychological thriller from last month.

Whereas the CHH falls asleep at every third page, I am finding it to be wonderful escapism.  Austen writes about well-off people acting out their social game, with very important consequences, that is, the future economic well-being of the women characters. But no strife occurs other than bad manners and turning down marriage proposals.

During the time Jane Austen was writing (early 1800s), here are just a few things going on in the world:

• slavery (Britain abolished slave trade in 1807 but did not abolish slavery until 1833)

• Colonialism

• Severe economic inequality

• The Napoleonic wars

• British Prime Minister Spencer Perceval assassinated (1812)

• War of 1812 (US v. Britain) 

Jane Austen had plenty of opportunity to introduce strife into her novels, but chose instead to focus on one segment of English society. One reviewer points out that the reader gets to know the annual income of nearly every character in the novel.

Middle of March 

The Common Household Husband has read a little further through Vol. 1.  He says to me, accusingly, “Who is this new character - Mr. Wexford?!”

Me:  Wickham.

CHH:  He is not on good terms with Mr. Darcy.  And Mr. Blinky thinks that Mr. Darcy is not to blame.   Mr. Wickham is the vicar.

Me:  No.  Mr. Collins is the vicar.  Wickham was going to be a vicar… (I pause, not wanting to give away the plot).

CHH:  I think I should just find the movie version.  Is there a Russian musical version?

Me:  There are a lot of versions, both movies and other books.  There is “Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.”  

CHH:  How many of the characters are Jewish? 

I urge CHH not to give up yet, to read at least through the letter that Darcy hands to Elizabeth.

Six days later…

It’s a rainy Saturday morning, and I am trying to muster the energy to go collecting more petition signatures to get candidates on the ballot.  I’m working on my voter list. The Common Household Husband comes into the office and sits down behind me ominously.

After a minute or so of him lurking there, I figured out that he has something to tell me.  He says, “I finished reading Darcy’s letter to Elizabeth.  I have to say that it does not change my opinion of Darcy.”

Me:  So you still think he’s gay?

CHH:  No.  But I think he is quite respectable and has made good decisions.

Me:  So you are okay with his marriage proposal, where he said, “I’ll marry you even though you are low class compared to me, and your family engages in bad behavior”?

CHH:  Yes.  That seems perfectly reasonable to me.

Two days before book club meets

The Common Household Husband is now getting into the book. He says, “Lydia!  She has run off with Wickaby!  And Mrs. Bennet is only concerned about clothes.”

One day before book club meets

CHH has not yet finished the book, but gives me his latest on the plot synopsis and character assessment:

Lydia is going up north with Wickaby.   She doesn’t see that she did anything wrong.  Nothing happened in this book until Lydia ran off with him.  …  Elizabeth has learned the role that Mr Darcy played in preventing a scandal from Lydia and Wickaby’s behavior.  Mr Binkley is back at, um, Nutherfield, and I'm assuming it's because Mr Darcy has relented and told him it’s fine for him to marry Jane. Mr Bennet is most displeased with Lydia.  Because of her, he has told his youngest daughter she may not associate with anyone for the next ten years, and no one may go to Brighton, ever.  He continues to be the most ineffectual father and husband. 

Elisabeth Bennet may have changed her opinion of Mr Darcy, but the CHH’s opinion hasn’t shifted.  He thought Mr D was fine before and thinks he is fine now.  The CHH is in bitter disagreement with Younger Daughter, who thinks Mr Darcy is a terrible person who absolutely did not deserve to get redeemed or be with Elizabeth at the end.

One definition of a classic is perhaps “a book that people can’t stop talking about.”  Pride and Prejudice has definitely met that grade in the Common Household. We could argue for hours about whether Elizabeth Bennet is a feminist for her time because she insists on marrying for love, if Jane Bennet would have made a terrible main character, if Mr. Bennet is a loving father stuck in a bad financial situation or if he's irresponsible.

But it's time to start on next month's book.

The Wisdom of the Common Household Husband

Not a live moose

Last year was a challenging year, but the Common Household Husband helped steer our ship of household on a reasonable path.  Here is some of his wisdom that helped get us through.

January

Younger Daughter helped herself to a chocolate covered almond, even though she doesn’t like almonds.

Me:  You’re not going to waste that almond, are you?

CHH:  Yeah. Almonds don’t go on trees, you know.

February

The CHH made himself a cup of French Vanilla tea.  Then he poured Peach Schnapps into it.  I said, “I am predicting that is not a good taste combination.”  

He tasted it, and said, “Hmmm.  It’s like wearing a plaid shirt with rainbow suspenders.”

March

I was making the roasted egg for the seder plate.  

Me: How long should I roast the egg?  Twenty minutes?

CHH: Yeah, that’s right.  That’s how long it took to cross the Red Sea.  

April

We were discussing brands of grape juice, as a Jewish-Christian household is likely to do.

CHH:  I prefer Bernoulli’s Grape Juice.

Me:  Is that some kind of physics joke?  I don’t get it.  But if you had said you prefer Schrödinger’s Grape Juice, I would understand.

CHH:  I was looking for Schrödinger’s Grape Juice, but I couldn’t find it.  I asked where it was, and some people said it was in that aisle, and some people said it wasn’t in that aisle.

But Bernoulli’s Grape Juice – that wakes me up in the morning!

Me: (reads about Bernoulli’s principle on Wikipedia; looks perplexed.)  Let’s see.  There’s the Bernoulli distribution. – that’s not it.  How about, “What is Bernoulli’s principle in simple terms?”  It says “In fluid dynamics, Bernoulli's principle states that an increase in the speed of a fluid occurs simultaneously with a decrease in static pressure…”

CHH:  Doesn’t that apply to grape juice?

May-August

(Apparently we were not paying attention during the summer, perhaps because we actually did some traveling and moved our younger daughter twice.)

September

CHH told me, "The rabbi called to wish me gud yontif." Then he explained further, "Yontif is Jewish for yom tov."

October

At dinner, we were talking about how and when to celebrate all the upcoming holidays. I looked at the calendar and said, “Christmas is on a Saturday.”

Son:  Is there a special prayer for when shabbat falls on Christmas?

Me:  Dad is talking about going “hunting” on Christmas.

Son: When has Dad EVER gone hunting?!

CHH:  It’s a euphemism for Las Vegas.   Speaking of hunting, I met a guy at the casino today who said he went hunting and shot a moose.

Me, reading facts about moose, to try and find out if they are endangered: Moose grow to be six foot nine inches tall.

CHH: Joseph Conrad was 6 and a half feet tall.

Me: That’s an odd factoid to know about Joseph Conrad.

CHH:  Well, he looks really tall.

Me: : Joseph Conrad, the author of Heart of Darkness?!

CHH:  No, the guy who stars on The Rifleman.

Me:  Do you mean Chuck Connors?

(For the record, Chuck Connors was 6 ft 5 inches tall.  The internet does not know how tall Joseph Conrad was.  Apparently moose, at least the Northwestern Moose, are not considered endangered.  Also for the record, the CHH did not get to go hunting or to Las Vegas.  He regrets the latter.  )

November

CHH, complaining that the news is always the same:  “Every day Congress is subpoenie-weenying, and nothing ever happens.”

CHH, talking about the true history of the Exodus:  The manna was actually 9 egg sponge cake.  And after they ate it, someone said, ‘My mother’s was better.’

CHH’s suggestions for sequels to Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl:

Man's Search for a Comfortable Chair.

Man's Search for Cream Cheese. 

(If he had read Man’s Search for Meaning he would not be making light of it.  Or maybe he still would, because of the way 2020-2021 has messed with our brains.)

December

Me:  Can we splurge and get new bathroom rugs?

CHH:   Why?!  This is the first I’ve heard of this idea.

Me:  I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.  Our rugs are old and probably harbor a lot of germs.

CHH:  All I want is a heated toilet seat with Bluetooth technology in it.

And that’s a good dream to enter 2022 with.