Roses and White Pickets

We changed our minds three times this morning, but finally decided on a walk through the city's "Historic" district…one of the earliest enclaves of houses built by wealthy land barons for their families. Like several other older districts of the city, it reminds me of Berkeley…lots of individual architectural styles, wide streets with lots of trees (other than the ubiquitous oaks) and gracious landscaping often involving large green lawns. I wonder how long those will last?

OilMan continues to research his greywater system although, thank goodness, he has moved the bulk of his operations outside. Inside, meanwhile, I continue to wish we had a nice big bathtub for the occasional relaxing soak. This is not a likely prospect on a number of fronts…our small bathrooms do not allow for anything more than a tub/shower combination in the guest bathroom, and the drought does not allow for the filling and emptying of a large tub simply for a luxurious soak.

We have a spot outside our bedroom for a hot tub, which, I am told, can be filled and kept warm for only a small increase in the heating bill. OilMan remains skeptical. I find  most hot tubs to be ugly and uninviting, but feel sure there is a way to disguise one as a Japanese soaking tub. OilMan remains skeptical. The dialog continues, but requires an inordinate amount of nagging reminding from me to keep it on OilMan's radar screen ahead of pole beans, tomatoes, rodents and irrigation. 

The other evening, OilMan invited a neighbor to watch the NFL (National Football League) draft, and spent the day cooking short ribs, which he deemed the perfect manly meal. Two major problems developed:
1) It was 90 degrees outside and slow cooked short ribs was an           
     unappealing prospect.
2) Our Comcast cable went out, which means we had no television, no 
     phone reception and no Internet connection.
 
We decamped to Dana's house, leaving the short ribs Ozzie and Hank the Basset hound and the short ribs behind. Peter, who has memorized the password to their wifi (actually a string of random letters and numbers) and is apparently the only person in the household who knows it, texted it to me from behind closed doors so that I could publish my blip. All was restored by the time we came home, but when it comes to the reliability of Comcast, I remain skeptical….