Monday, November 23

Br-r-r...the pool was uncomfortably chilly this morning! When I arrived, the lifeguard, who is also a coach at the college, warned me that the water was cold... "I had to break the ice when I got here," he joked. Nevertheless, thirteen of us braved it, more than I thought would show up on this Monday before Thanksgiving. When the maintenance guy arrived, we all booed him. He explained that the pool's filter wasn't working right, causing the water level to drop so that more had to be added, making the water chilly.

Back home, once I was ready for the day, Hubbie and I tried to call the appliance repair service, in accordance with advise from a clerk there, to get someone to either walk us through making the new remote control work on the upstairs TV, or engage a repairman to come our house and look at the TV. The number that the clerk gave us is their 800 number, which originates from who knows where. Anyway, we tried every menu option, but all advised us to take the TV to our local store to be sent away for repair. So Hubbie called the local store again, and the clerk was supposed to call the 800 number to see what's what and call us back. She hasn't called back so far.

After that, we ran errands...to a grocery store to pick up a big bag of on-sale red potatoes; to the bank (where a couple of guys in an armored truck were unloading boxes of quarters and dimes onto a dolly, but ignoring me as I sat in the van...I guess I don't look threatening); and to the WDCS for a few grocery items and cat food.

At home, Mother came over and relaxed while I went to the computer upstairs to find out when a local high school will be holding their annual Christmas Madrigal Feaste, and learned that it is the weekend of December 11 and 12. I called the number listed and was advised to go to the administration building this afternoon if I wanted tickets for the Saturday dinner at a discounted price (prices increase after next Monday). This is a very popular event, and the tickets go fast (particularly for Saturday night) once they are advertised in the local newspaper. It has been a few years since we've attended this very well done event that includes a choir ensemble in medieval costumes, wandering minstrels, and a great meal, served by "wenches and pages" in a "castle" (the lunchroom is creatively decorated), so we are ready to do it again.

At home again, I joined Mother in relaxing for a while, before programming the DVR for Thursday's Thanksgiving parades, which we won't watch until Friday. Then we all watched a couple of episodes of Dr. Oz that I'd already recorded on DVR.

Heart-in-throat episode at suppertime: Mother took a pan of biscuits out of the oven, turned around, lost her footing, and fell to the floor. Other than scraping her right arm on a cabinet door pull or something as she went down, she is unhurt, thank God. We think her fall was broken when the back of her shirt caught on some potholder hooks on a low cookbook case, which helped suspend her slightly. It took both Hubbie and me to get her upright again, but we're very grateful that nothing but her bruised and scraped arm and her pride is injured. The biscuits went scattering, but we invoked the five-second rule and ate them anyway with leftover Autumn Stew.

Mother went home after that, and Hubbie and I watched TV, beginning with a PBS movie, "Endgame," about negotiations that led to the end of apartheid in South Africa. It stars William Hurt, Johnny Lee Miller, and Chiwetel Ejiofor (a black actor unknown to me).

We intended to watch tonight's episode of "Dancing with the Stars," but somehow the DVR did not record it, though I am certain I programmed it yesterday. Phooey.

Funny: at lunch, I dished myself a helping of the good fruited gelatin that I made yesterday. I asked Hubbie if he wanted more of the failed stuff. He said there wasn't any of it left. I was surprised that he could have eaten all of it in so short a time, and said so. "How did you do that?" I asked. "Easy," he said, "I threw it away." Even his super-frugal self couldn't stomach a large recipe of that gosh-awful stuff.