Category Archives: The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Everyone has suggestions . . .

I have been thinking of reorganizing the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse because that would only be slightly more work than cleaning it up and getting things back in place. However, if I actually reorganize, folks have let me know they have opinions. Lydia – remember Lydia? . . . well, here she is:

She’s the piano player of the Red Piano. Okay, she says we should move the piano closer to the fire in the winter and within reach of the soda cooler in the summer.

Hmmm, I think I have another picture of Lydia. Let me look. Why yes, here’s one of her in her winter hat:

lydia-jan

Oh! Oh! Oh! And here’s one of her and Der Bingle and another friend on the afternoon they were worried about being bombarded by alien signals:

der-bingle-and-lydia

Gotta love Der Bingle – he’s a real sport.

I believe I’ve lost my inital train of thought . . .

The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Not a menu picture

deli-rye_2

Okay, this is a view of a crunchy peanut butter foldover on deli rye with the shot focused in on the bread. After I reviewed the pic, I decided to look at my foldover to see if the loop was a hair. No, it is not. It is too little for me to see, even with my glasses. I believe it is some type of fiber – and the brown at the lower left and right side are the edges of  fiber I think I can  see. Gee, what IS in that bread?

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Cold nose

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Hello, there. I have noticed a theme in my thinking: cold. Usually, I am just aware of the temperature in number form and the fear it can strike in the hearts of some. Today, though, I am sitting on my warm porch, listening to the chatter from some of the PBC&R folks, and I am very much conscious of my nose being cold. I mean I can feel it cold on my nose, and when I feel it with my fingers, I definitely know it is colder than my cheeks, forehead, lips and so forth. My ears are warmer than my nose.

So why is today “nose day”? Well, I’ll be darned if I know; it’s 5 degrees and that’s sort of warm considering all our negative numbers and wind chills. And, for heavens sake, the nose is staying cold. Okay, I am stopping the typing and putting both my hands on my nose . . . now trying cuping my hands around my nose and mouth and exhaling my warm breath . . . now burying my nose in the fake sheepskin lining of my absolute favorite Pacific Beach hooded sweatshirt jacket.

It’s still cold; it must be psychosomatic. Analysis or a heating pad on it?  Let me think: Was I ever scared by an pice of ice shaped like my nose? I don’t care – I’m going for pallative care – snuggling my face in warm doggie fur.

The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

What?? A fog delay?

Okay, we go to bed – no snow, no prediction of incredible cold and biting wind chill. And this morning I hear the words “2-hour delay” – well, let’s forgo my usual response of “Rats” and go straight to . . . . “Damn”.  Der Bingle likes to do the breakfast short order thing, so I got eggs with stips of toast to dip in the yolk and others got pancakes. Oh, and orange juice – the type with no pulp. That was a sacrifice for him – he likes it so pulpy, you have to chew it.

But he is heading back this morning and I will have to handle things by myself again. By the way, someone said there are pod-like things growing in the furnace room. It just seems like I have heard something about this sort of thing before . . .

The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Surprise! It’s Der Bingle

Yes, little Summer, who is now two inches taller than I, Grandpa just walked right in early this afternoon, after calling and saying not to tell anyone he was coming. Didn’t I mention I’d lit a fire and gee, don’t you think a shower would be refreshing? Like several times? Well, it’s not like a didn’t try to give you a heads up. As Sydney would say, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!”

Today has been a banner day for Black & White – The Big Clock with Ray Milland and  Man in the Middle with Robert Michum. However, I could only watch bits and pieces, but now I am sitting here and there are no movies from the B&W era on. Rats. I remember first seeing The Big Clock on The Afternoon Movie one summer vacation – maybe I was 16 and now I’m 60 and if I close my eyes I can smell the Indiana summer in a non air-conditioned but shaded house.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Shingles

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I have an appointment at 2 pm to see if my self-diagnosis is correct: shingles? I fit the description of the symptoms and the breakout is right at my pudgy waistline. Come to think of it, skin pain at my waistband could result in a necessary loss of weight to give me more room in my pants . . . or, wait . . . I could get bigger pants.

Fifty-five years ago this very season, I had a heck of a case of chicken pox. They combed scabs out of my hair, shook them out of sheets, and swept the floor behind me as I walked. I was covered with those poxlets. I am hoping there is no correlation between the severity of the chicken pox adventure and the foray into shingle land. Well, that’s not accurate – I wouldn’t mind a correlation of indirect proportion.

And, oh, here is a little secret we need to keep from Der Bingle: We knew where Bing and Otter were, but we also knew they were dirty . . . and now they are getting washed.  Ah, I think little giggles are forming behind our lips. Yes, a lot of heehee fermentation going on . . .

Should we do a before picture? Maybe.

Bing and Otter.

UPDATE:

I believe Otter took it well . . .

and now he’s finishing up –

Now it’s time to go check on Bing

Oh . . .

Well, it will probably work out okay. Also, I went ahead and plucked Otter from his perch and tossed placed him comfortably in the dryer with a fabric softener sheet. Gee, I hope I remembered to put him on the gentle dry cycle with the moisture sensor engaged.

Anyway, yes, I do have shingles, although I think I am going to start referring to the condition as “the shingles” – I’ve got the shingles, dontcha know. And Valtrex is my friend.

Uh, I’m going to check on Otter now . . . and Bing.

Hmmmm . . . maybe Otter needs another go round. Oh, was that a pun? I’m certain it was unintentional.

The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

the slow packing begins

So, my dears, I just finished packing up the first box for the post 2008 Christmas season. Early? you say. Well, this box has the nutcrackers that didn’t make it our for this year. so they are rearranged in their lodging and marked with a big

#1

and a paragraph that says they didn’t make it out in 2008 and have major priority for 2009.

The reason I’m posting this is to keep me honest; if I don’t mention more boxes, may a pox be on me. Say, have you ever known a little kid who thought the phrase was “a fox upon you”? Just asking, no reason.

Just Me - AmeliaJake, The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

Needs ice

Yes, I look at the snow and appearance of grass and the absence or presence of ice on the trees, but the true indication of the phase of winter we are in lies in the temperature of the soda in the back vestibule. It can be quite chilly or biting or  frosty. Frosty, by the way, means you need to consider bringing it inside, which I am loathe to do because then it gets hot.

Nestled in a stack by brick wall the vestibule shares with the kitchen and across a narrow walk from another brick wall shared with the  garage, and with a door between the actual “out” outside as opposed to the vestibule outside, it is generally protected from, you know, the big KABOOM. When the temperature drops a lot, I often throw an old sleeping bag over the stack and we are fine.

But sometimes and lately would be one of them, we haven’t been careful about keeping the stack compact and truly up against the house wall . . . and we neglected to grab a sleeping bag  . . . and someone left the door to the “out” outside open . . . and we did have some explosions. In the scheme of things this year, I just sighed. (The trick is to get a broom and sweep of the frozen stuff before it melts)

Yesterday it was soooo warm and this morning when I reached out for a wake-up zing of cold Diet Coke to accompany my peanut butter foldover, I found I had in my hand a relatively warm can . . . and so now you understand my first cogent thought of the day: “needs ice”.

The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

yesterday

Despite trying to get everything organized, I just fell short. I grew tired on Christmas Eve and let it slip away. But here is Christmas morning of sorts. Der Bingle on hearing me say I was editing photos, commented I always edit AmeliaJake out. So thus I start off:

Now:

Blurry Cameron

Cameron and nutcracker

Colin, who is autistic and who had a good time.

Summer

Der Bingle himself

Rummage sale Santa on little tree

Our funky 2008 tree

And, of course, the chip monk

Oh, yeah, we had a bit of excitement . . . I sat watching Alison hand out the presents to the kids and thought the big package was the XBox 360 from Der Bingle (and me). Then she handed that large, obviously light-weight package to Robert.  So I mouthed to her, “XBox?” and she looked back  blankly at me. I thought she had wrapped it, but, no, actually it was missing in non-action. Too many hiding places . . . too many covering afghans. But, I the amazing AmeliaJake, found it upstairs in the sitting room in the big flex garbage bag in which Der Bingle had brought it.

I really should have been very grateful and, therefore, festive this season. But I wasn’t, even though I kept trying to talk myself into it. The harder I worked to make myself realize things had worked out okay, the more unsteady I became. Maybe next year, I will have lived well-enough to earn Christmas spirit.

Oh, this sounds so maudlin, but I guess I mention it because if I have seemed low, it is no one’s fault. And it’s okay.

The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

duct tape

It is cold here . . . real cold. I reached the point where I put duct tape on one of the doors because until it got this cold and this windy I did not realize the constant use had  undermined the insulation on the door jamb. Yes, it is Sydney’s door from the porch. He is not pleased. He wants to use THAT door.

However, the screen door is frozen shut . . . although that isn’t preventing cold from seeping through the recently discovered air leaks. It is too cold for a real fix . . . well, when a temporary duct taping will serve.

Oh, my. We have lost power. Now this is not good.

YEA! It turned out to a be a tripped circuit breaker for part of the house. WooHoo. But Sydney is still BooHoo-ing about his door.

Firewood brigade . . . YO.