August 25, 2014

Hail to the Do-It-Your-Selfers (and their helpers)

If Ace is the place with the helpful hardware man then Midwest is the Best, because there you can find a whole slew of helpful souls ready to answer any question imaginable and lend a helping hand to even the most clueless of do-it-your-selfers, me included.

I've known that for some time now, but the fact was reaffirmed  just the other day when I decided to replace the modern electrical wall sconce in the hallway with a beautiful antique fixture given to me by my sister some time ago.

Naturally the wiring on the relic was past the point of reliability and practically fell to pieces when I tugged at it to remove it from the brass fixture base.  No, this wouldn't do at all, I reasoned.  So it was off I went, fixture in hand, to visit one of my favorite hardware helpers, Nick, who, upon seeing the aged light that I was holding said, "Wow, that's a cool fixture!" It didn't take him long to locate just the wiring that I needed,and he lopped off a few feet and sent me on my way.

Everything I know about electrical wiring comes from trial and error experience.  But I do know a few facts:  neutral to neutral and hot to hot.  I come from a long line of do-it-yourselfers dating back to my grandmother who rarely shied from a challenge to my own father who was responsible once for "fixing" an electric alarm clock so that it ran backwards when plugged in a certain way.  I guess that must have been a polarity problem or something.

First things first, I set about attaching the new wire to my old light.  Then, after disabling the power to the hallway, I set about removing the existing light.  It wasn't long before I was gazing at a gaping hole in the wall and several wires pointing pointing accusatorilly my way.  What was I thinking, I asked myself.  I must have had a moment of utter madness thinking I could successfully mess with this wiring project all by myself. 

But needless to say, I tread fearlessly onward. 

And so I twisted and tucked and poked and tightened.  And then came the moment of truth, (or dare.)  I ran downstairs,  flicked the breaker switch back on, ran back up two flights of stairs and cautiously approached the light switch that would either shed a great light on the subject or send me back to the drawing board (and probably a phone call to a real electrician).  Hopefully, I secretly thought, there would be no sparks or fireworks involved.

Voile, there was light when the switch was flipped.  My world lit up both figuratively as well as literally.  For a second that is.  And then it went dark.  The entire house was thrown into a power outage and my heart sank like the setting sun.  I figured I'd really done it this time and I flicked the power off in the blink of an eye and thought about who to call in the dire situation.  

It was then that I realized that outside an approaching electrical storm had encroached while I'd been enthralled with my little project and had actually cut the power to the entire town.  And when seconds later the lights came back on, I could have danced for joy.  I flicked my new light on and off, and on again, reveling in the power that I had at my fingertips. 

I had really done it;  and to think that I had there for a moment feelings of self doubt.  Never be afraid to try, that's my motto.  What's the worst that can happen to you - a few seconds of dark will be overshadowed by a great light!!  

August 11, 2014

Battle Scarred and Much Loved

If you are like me you have a dedicated drawer  in your kitchen filled with pot holders.  Most cooks do.  And most likely your potholders are battle scarred from the action they have known through the years. Mine sport burn holes, singed edges, stains and various other pock marks that are testimony to the service that they have provided time and again over the years.

On the top of the heap in my potholder drawer are the large oven mitts that I go to time and again.  They provide adequate protection when I reach into an oven to remove a piping hot dish or homemade cake.  Sometimes an errant thumb dips into the mixture, leaving a fresh stain on the potholder's surface.  But always they are ready to be pressed into action at a moment's notice.

Buried deep within that potholder drawer can be found other lesser used relics including the hand loomed squares created by my youngsters, or the cleverly crafted quilted beauties that I purchased at a church bizarre years ago. There's even a silicone hand mitt that actually resembles an odd hand puppet. For some reason I always hesitate to use any of those assorted mitts, reaching instead for the old standards. Could it be because they're most comfortable and reliable?  I suppose. I guess potholders can really tell a lot about a person and each has its own story to tell. 

And so can the tattered and well-used cards in my recipe file or the be-speckled pages of my favorite recipe box.  That box is filled with index cards of recipes, written in my mother's precise hand printing.  Just flipping through each makes me feel close to her when I go in search of a favorite concoction of some sort.  

The pages of my recipe books, on the other hand, sport splotches of batter and splats of other ingredients called for in one recipe or another.  A few of the pages of my Betty Crocker cookbook, in fact, have fallen out and are tucked loosely in.  That book has been with me for most of my adult life and I treasure it.  

But it doesn't bother me one little bit that those books, cards and pot holders are well used and loved.  I imagine that should someone someday inherit all of my recipes files and books, they will come to know which ones are the tastiest and favorites merely by their ragged edges and splattered surfaces. And that's a comforting thought.  

Favorite potholders, recipes and memories are meant to be cherished.  And they all have their own tales to tell.  Listen sometime and you may just hear them speak to you.