It’s at the point of the job where the kitchen is at the top of the list. Ideally, this would be done in summer, where, if need be, we could cook and dine outdoors. Yeah, I missed that by this much —> <— January is not much fun to cook outdoors. Sure, it gets warm, sometimes even 60 degrees, but for the most part, we like eating indoors during the winter months. As such, there’s been a bit of jostling about of schedules and foodstuffs and, well, just about everything.
Yesterday’s breakfast went something like this. The Mrs asking me what I would like for breakfast. If some of you are clutching your pearls at the thought of a woman, asking a man what he would like to eat and making it for him, well, folks, you chose poorly. You see, she takes care of stuff like that. Heck she’ll even make me a samich if I ask. And what do I do to deserve such a domestic Goddess? Make stuff, break stuff, open a few pickle jars and the like. So when she asked me what I wanted for breakfast, this was not breaking new ground. In fact, this was such a well worn groove, that she’d made plans for this request and knew it would come up on certain days of the week. Apparently, I’m a bit predictable.
Granola, I said, to her query. Not some hippy garbage that you’d buy at the store, her home made stuff. It’s really good. Oats, nuts, dates, raisins, dried cranberries with sorghum and honey for a bit of sweetening. High density energy that will keep you hopping on a cold day.
This is where the problem started. Normally granola lives on the shelves that used to be the front window, back when it was just a stone house. When they put the wood addition on, they made the window into kitchen shelving. Which is nice, because there’s not much else for storage in the kitchen. In preparation for installing bead board in the kitchen, we’d moved all those things into the dining room and mudroom. The fridge got moved to the dining room, too, but when she got busy moving things, I don’t think granola was on her mind, and it got lost in the shuffle.
So, there was a couple of minutes there where I was thinking I might need to get my .22 rifle and bag me a squirrel or 2, just in case the granola got real lost. But before I got ready to invoke plan B, granola shows up on the table. That’s how my breakfast cereal became a bit surreal. A stranger in a familiar land.
But, a cool thing happened after breakfast. The window shelf had a rough sawn 3/4 inch board nailed into the back of the bottom shelf. Since the bottom shelf was the old window sill and had an angle that sloped toward the back, dirt and gunk tended to wedge themselves under that board. We wanted to paint the whole shelf, so I got my crowbar and tried to uninstall the splintery thing. Somebody back in the day, got a bit happy with a hammer and nails. There had to be at least a dozen nails holding that board in place. I seriously doubt the rest of the stone house has a dozen nails into anything. I got a bigger crowbar and a small block of wood for a fulcrum and that board reluctantly came out. In the process, I noticed a round disk wedged under the board. It was big and I got a flashlight and confirmed my suspicion. A silver dollar from 1921, about the time the wood addition was built. The Mrs thinks it might have been placed there on purpose. That would kind of explain the Fort Knox of nails keeping it from blowing away in our ever present Kansas breeze. I think, because the shelf is sloped to the back, somebody put their change on the shelf and Mr Gravity helped himself to some walking around money. Either way, it was a cool find.