These Shoes...

These shoes aren't meant for walking (to paraphrase Nancy Sinatra's song "These Boots Are Meant For Walking").  Another pair of barn shoes bit the dust yesterday while I was restocking the wood rack.  I noticed immediately when a cold breeze hit my toes because the sole had let go of the upper.  I've had enough practice putting shoes in the trash that I can do it now with only a pang of guilt, and I had a secret weapon:  another pair waiting in the wings.  I used the same system that I use with canned goods, batteries, light bulbs, etc., and bought ahead of need.  Take that, Shoe God.

Restocking the wood rack was also a case of prevention.  Days of rain and freezing temps are predicted for this week and I wanted to be ready.  I felt so bad for Camille, who called to say her pellet stove had gone on the fritz.  We had a pellet stove here when we moved in.  I hated the blasted thing because the blower made a most irritating sound when it came on.  Also, because the blower and auger run on electricity, when the power goes out...no heat.  I was ever so happy when Steve switched us over to a wood stove.  Cam is faced with trying to get someone to come quickly to fix her stove, buy a new one, or change over to wood or propane.  Wood stoves are dirty, no two ways about it.  Ashes, dirt and bark bits from the logs, they're messy but the heat is reliable.

The heat is reliable, yes, but there was another example of the fact that it doesn't turn corners yesterday.  I wanted to make a recipe that called for softened, room-temperature butter.  Those recipes never take into account the temperature of the room.  In summer when the temp is 90-plus, best put the butter in a bowl or prepare to wipe up a yellow puddle.  I took butter from the refrigerator yesterday afternoon; it's still a hard brick this morning.

Note to self:  buy another pair of shoes on the next trip to town.  It pays to be prepared.