Thursday, October 06, 2016

his thoughts, her thoughts, my thoughts

We finished moving food out of the warm refrigerator by midnight. Now came the puzzling question: what went wrong? The fridge was not especially expensive, but it was well rated by Consumer Reports. We bought it when I moved to the farmhouse some five years back.

These machines now have codes and flashing numbers and a whole plethora of bells and whistles to alert the repair person to what's malfunctioning. But it's not information that's readily available to the consumer.

Unless you're an Ed.

Not for him the normal response: call the repair person, get a diagnosis, pay for a fix, resume your normal life.

He searches the web all night until he finds the probably cause, removes the troubled circuit board (officially called a "jazz control board"), and makes a list of places in town that might stack a replacement for the defective part. 

Unfortunately, to buy the board locally (rather than having it shipped from who knows where), you have to pay a couple of dollars more.

Well so what??? If we don't fix the fridge today, then I can't grocery shop tomorrow and (for complicated reasons) I can't shop Saturday either so we'll wind up doing take out, or eating out, which will more than offset the savings of having the part shipped! -- That's my reasoning.

And Ed?

So you really really want me to buy the board today for 125 when I can get it possibly as soon as next week for 85?
Yes!
You really need the refrigerator that soon?
Yes!
You want me to go all the way to the next town to get that expensive part?
Yes!
Now?
Yes!

He mulls this over for a bit.

But first there's a work phone call for him and I throw my hands up and retire to the porch to eat my own breakfast. He joins me, skyping with his work buddies as we eat.


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(View from the porch these days...)


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(Like in Giverny last October, here, too, the blooms are more than 80% annuals.)


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In the end, he does get the part, but he remains troubled by the added expense, even though in exchange for it, I tell him that we'll cancel our date night dinner out tonight and we'll scavenge around and see what's still fresh among the foods we salvaged from the dead refrigerator last night.


It's been an unusually warm early Fall. Yes, we ate breakfast on the porch. And when I pick up Snowdrop, she lets me know that she does not need a sweater.


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Happy girl! She carries her lunch bag to the waiting stroller, delighted that I have in mind a brief walk now.


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It doesn't take much to figure out that she wants to go to the playground.

I'm on top of the world here!


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Indeed. This one small playground is perfect for her age: there's nothing on it that she doesn't like or can't do these days.


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After, we pause ever so briefly at the coffee shop -- mostly so that I can get a take-out cup of the strong stuff (it was a very full night).

You're not forgetting the cookie, are you grandma?


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On the walk home, I can't help but notice that the air feels like late summer, but the trees are telling us we're long past that season.


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Oh no, grandma! There's a fallen branch blocking our path!
Walk around it, little one.


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And at home she plays with her new plastic love -- a rocket launch pad.


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Blast off! Again and again.


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And she drives, or pretends to drive. Happy to take you on as a passenger...


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And finally she begs to wear my shoes.
Too big!
Not too big...

Too big!!!!


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Want to go out again, Snowdrop?
Oh yes!!!


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Yeah, a happy girl. This is where my thoughts overlap so perfectly with hers and his: she's happy.

And that's such a beautiful thing.

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