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Posts Tagged ‘seawater’

Storms (both) over! Power (twice) restored! Things getting back to normal! But oh, just kidding, November had one more banana peel for me to slip on.

Last night at around 7p I went down my hallway and heard a…well…watery noise. Turns out the boiler in my building had gone kablooie and my radiators were delivering the message. And continued to do so for the next six hours, until the emergency plumber arrived.

I think it would be simplest to describe the horror event with statements from all involved.

Me: OHNOOHNOOHNOOHNOSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP

Downstairs neighbors: HOLY F***

Radiators: SPLURT SPLURT SPLURT

Landlord: …crickets.

Plumber: $215 even.

I created the below contraption in an effort to coerce the continually dripping water to do my bidding instead of its own. Low dripping valve to funnel to skillet to long metal cylinder I found in the office closet to my biggest stockpot.  I was exhausted but undaunted, figuring maybe I never took physics, but I sure watched The Goonies enough times as a kid.

I should have taken physics.

And this is what I caught out of my bathroom radiator—rusty water. I call it Gross Soup. Mmmmmmm nummy.

So.

Once I got everything more or less under control—it only took till about 12:30a—I did the only sensible, rational thing I could think of. I sat down and chipped cooled, dried bittersweet chocolate out of a Pyrex bowl with the small plastic spatula that came with my Cuisinart Mini-Mate Chopper and ate it all with very cold milk. Then I roasted hazelnuts in the oven and rubbed their skins off with a kitchen towel. It was surprisingly relaxing.

Today I learned I will not have heat until early next week.* The gas company guy offered a sweet expression of folksy wisdom: ‘Don’t try lighting the pilot light or you could blow this place sky high.’

After hearing this, I ate a wedge of my homemade gingerbread, finished a dopey novel, and shopped for supplies. Knowing the house was going to be cold, I made a point to wear my stage tech boots all day, which make me feel powerful. There are many ways to suit up for battle.

Don’t think for a minute that I am some saccharine-soaked Pollyanna, dismissing the indignity of what happened last night, which was due entirely to my landlord’s negligence**. I took out my frustration by duct taping my radiator valves. And I plan to deliver this guy his comeuppance with shameless abandon. Though not with duct tape, because it’s too good for him.

It’s just that I know people who don’t have entire houses right now, post-Sandy. Or their cars were totaled by ocean waves while sitting right in their driveways. Or their possessions, after gulping 500 gallons of seawater, were totaled as well. Plus…being cold is work enough. Bellyaching about it just makes hard work harder.

Tomorrow I am going to a party, finishing my hazelnut recipe***, tagging my Christmas tree at the farm to be cut next month, and working on my Christmas cards. Here’s the shot. That could cheer anyone up.

Truffle cookies. Way prettier than Gross Soup.

*This is not a repeat from 10/29-11/9.

**His name is Jim. I call him Jimmy Crack Corn, from the old Southern antebellum song, because he doesn’t care.

***It’s called Better Than Nutella. Hello and yes I need to make you.

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When the world got to be too much for Holly Golightly, she went to Tiffany’s. Ishmael went to sea. Me, I go to Trader Joe’s just because I know the guy behind the register will take the shopping basket right out of my hand and pack everything up himself. And he’ll grin the whole time, and say the corn chips I am buying are his current addiction.

Sure it’s summer, but that doesn’t automatically mean comfort sits in our laps every day, all day. Sometimes, like today, which must be the 17th sticky, grey day in a row, we need to seek out (or barring that, to remember) the stuff that makes us grin like a Trader Joe’s cashier. Here are some of my favorites.

1) Listening to a farmer describe how she relaxes after a long, hot day at the market: she goes inside her barn, turns on the fan, and cracks open a cold beer.

2) Choosing the tightest, smoothest, rosiest heirloom tomatoes for my favorite summer sandwich: sliced on bread smeared with mayonnaise, sprinkled with salt, and summarily devoured.

3) Watching shaggy-haired groms—that’s pre-teen surfers—skateboarding to the beach with a slice of pizza poised in one hand and a bottle of Coke in the other.

4) Seeing local theatre productions that are big enough to attract extraordinary talent but small enough that afterward you can meet and shake the hands of the actors.

5) Having a teatime treat of cherries (or peaches, or blueberries) with a drizzle of real cream.

6) Visiting a local farm and having your zucchini weighed on an ancient scale.

7) Watching dogs on the beach, wet from seawater, tear up and down the beach as they follow their surfing owners.

8) Going to the boardwalk and being handed a sopping, sloppy hot sausage sandwich with absolutely no pretense.

9) Being at the beach to witness the sunset bathing everything for miles in palest pink.

10) Strolling the midway at the Italian-American festival in Oakhurst, NJ every August for the food, rides and more of my cousins on one acre than anyplace else on earth.

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