We are lucky enough to have a lovely rental property that sits behind the first hole of a golf course. It is quite nice not to have other homes behind us and we have a great view up the fairway for this hole. The only time it is irritating is some mornings when the groundskeepers come riding down to their shack which is also behind the first hole and they are quite noisy as they get out their machines. But for the most part it is peaceful and quiet and great. We see deer cross the fairway sometimes and there's always some magpies and crows flying around down there.
Living here we have come to realize what a strange breed is the golfer and especially the British golfer. It is not a sport that anyone in my family has ever taken up as a hobby or sport or vocation or love. But the golfers that play the course behind us must be the most avid and determined and also frustrated golfers in the world. They are out there every single day. No matter the weather, no matter the date, no matter the time, we see golfers on the course. The only times we have not seen golfers pursuing their passion have been the three times when the course has been covered in snow. And quite frankly, we were a bit surprised that there weren't golfers in the snow. I figured there would be colored golf balls by now so they could be tracked. But snow means no golfers.
Until this week! Surrey has taken some heavy rainfall this week and parts of Surrey have gone swimming involuntarily. Our own garden is a mixture of swamp and muck but at least not underwater like some of my friends. The first day after the big storm that dumped water on Surrey this week, I was home all day and not once did I see a golfer out on the course. I didn't think much about it but then we kept having rain and more rain and more rain and now for three days there have been no golfers. I imagine that it is so wet and muddy that the course has been closed because the golf cleats could probably tear up the grounds pretty badly. There is a sand trap near our first hole and right now, it is a water feature.
So the golf course is empty and I rather miss the golfers. They come in all sizes and shapes and all manner of odd golf clothes and bring everything from golf carts to remote controlled golf bags that roll across the course by themselves. And as we have seen golfers in heavy rains and heavy winds, still out there whacking the ball, I believe that the course has been closed by the owners and that there would be golfers there in spite of all the wet and soggy conditions, were they allowed. Hopefully we'll see some in the next few days.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Disappearing Fish
We have a very nice pond in our back garden. And we have 6 fish in there and looking very nice as well. We had learned our first winter here that when it gets cold, the fish tend to sink down to the bottom of the pond and hibernate. So we don't have to feed them and don't have to worry about them. Our first year though, I did worry that they might not be getting enough air when the pond froze and I was right. When spring came and the pond thawed, all of the fish came to the top gasping for air and they all died. So we replaced them with the 6 we have now and next winter, I made sure to poke holes in the ice with this lovely golf club I had found thrown into the bushes behind our house.
Everyone told me that herons come and eat your fish. I haven't seen a heron yet anywhere around our house and garden but people kept telling me I would lose my fish to a heron. About mid Oct, I finally decided to heed the warnings and put a net over the pond to keep any potential heron from stealing my fish and also to keep the leaves from falling into the water. I left one end, about a foot wide, of the pond open because the neighborhood cats and foxes and badgers and squirrels all drink out of the pond. There are water lily pads in the pond so I figured the fish could stay under the water lilies and out of danger or they would deserve to get eaten.
Wow, talk about locking the barn door or tempting fate! Our pond developed a leak and we were having to fill it, even after all the rain. So our landlord came over to replace it and punched a huge hole in the lining to drain it. I was standing by with two nets to catch my fish. Pond is getting lower and lower in water level and so far I have only gotten one fish in my net. Finally, the pond is almost empty and there are no more fish in there at all. I go downstairs under the deck where the water is draining and there is one fish lying in the puddle there. that's 2 of 6 and that was all! someone, some cat, some heron, some fox, some squirrel, or some badger has come and eaten my fish, four of them. OMG. my net was too little too late.
Once we get in the new pond liner and fill up the pond again, I am going to put the net over the pond right away. I am still going to leave a hole for the wild critters and the neighborhood cats and hopefully these two fish have learned their lessons as to what can happen to their friends when they swim to the end of the pond. yea, right. maybe I'll make spring with two fish and maybe not.
Everyone told me that herons come and eat your fish. I haven't seen a heron yet anywhere around our house and garden but people kept telling me I would lose my fish to a heron. About mid Oct, I finally decided to heed the warnings and put a net over the pond to keep any potential heron from stealing my fish and also to keep the leaves from falling into the water. I left one end, about a foot wide, of the pond open because the neighborhood cats and foxes and badgers and squirrels all drink out of the pond. There are water lily pads in the pond so I figured the fish could stay under the water lilies and out of danger or they would deserve to get eaten.
Wow, talk about locking the barn door or tempting fate! Our pond developed a leak and we were having to fill it, even after all the rain. So our landlord came over to replace it and punched a huge hole in the lining to drain it. I was standing by with two nets to catch my fish. Pond is getting lower and lower in water level and so far I have only gotten one fish in my net. Finally, the pond is almost empty and there are no more fish in there at all. I go downstairs under the deck where the water is draining and there is one fish lying in the puddle there. that's 2 of 6 and that was all! someone, some cat, some heron, some fox, some squirrel, or some badger has come and eaten my fish, four of them. OMG. my net was too little too late.
Once we get in the new pond liner and fill up the pond again, I am going to put the net over the pond right away. I am still going to leave a hole for the wild critters and the neighborhood cats and hopefully these two fish have learned their lessons as to what can happen to their friends when they swim to the end of the pond. yea, right. maybe I'll make spring with two fish and maybe not.
Friday, December 20, 2013
The Slimy Rule
Normally I stick with the slimy rule for food. Anything slimy in the food category, be it veggies, fruit, meat, etc, automatically goes to the smell test, albeit rather cautiously, and then is trashed, binned, garbaged, exited from the area. This rule has worked well for us over the years and probably kept us from getting any manner of nasty food related illnesses. (YES, some foods are actually meant to be slimy but we don't like most of them, e.g. durian)
This morning, for some reason I ignored the slimy rule. My thinking was: This is a brand new package of streaky bacon, I've just gotten it out of the freezer as of yesterday, I am opening it for the first time today, why would it be slimy???? But it was. I went to the smell test as that's automatic and not even necessary of thought. It really smelled OK. Nothing rank, nothing "OMG", nothing "PHEW" so I cooked a couple of strips for myself and a couple for my husband.
Another clue - it was exactly the same type of streaky bacon that I had cooked two days before but it didn't crisp up and get brown nicely. Still, no matter how many times I get British streaky bacon, it does something different in my pan almost every time so I ignored that warning as well.
Plated our breakfasts (notice how nicely I referred to putting our food on the plates?) and set them on the table. In a few minutes, hubby comes downstairs ready for breakfast and ready for work. By now, I was deep into a Sudoku puzzle and it took me a few minutes to look up and speak to him. By then, he had already taken a big bite of the bacon and had moved on to toast. I told him it had been slimy and he goes "thanks for warning me!" But as he didn't say anything else, I took a bite of mine too and swallowed it down.
In a few minutes, I noticed he was looking rather grim and concentrating rather fiercely on whatever was in his mouth. So I asked "what's up" and he replies, "this bacon has a really weird taste. You should have stuck to the slimy rule." Oh great, just great. Now we both are waiting for our stomachs to explode today and I have to say that I think mine just did. gulp. I am NEVER ignoring the slimy rule again!!! NEVER, EVER. Slimy is bad, slimy is evil, slimy is - opps, gotta run.
This morning, for some reason I ignored the slimy rule. My thinking was: This is a brand new package of streaky bacon, I've just gotten it out of the freezer as of yesterday, I am opening it for the first time today, why would it be slimy???? But it was. I went to the smell test as that's automatic and not even necessary of thought. It really smelled OK. Nothing rank, nothing "OMG", nothing "PHEW" so I cooked a couple of strips for myself and a couple for my husband.
Another clue - it was exactly the same type of streaky bacon that I had cooked two days before but it didn't crisp up and get brown nicely. Still, no matter how many times I get British streaky bacon, it does something different in my pan almost every time so I ignored that warning as well.
Plated our breakfasts (notice how nicely I referred to putting our food on the plates?) and set them on the table. In a few minutes, hubby comes downstairs ready for breakfast and ready for work. By now, I was deep into a Sudoku puzzle and it took me a few minutes to look up and speak to him. By then, he had already taken a big bite of the bacon and had moved on to toast. I told him it had been slimy and he goes "thanks for warning me!" But as he didn't say anything else, I took a bite of mine too and swallowed it down.
In a few minutes, I noticed he was looking rather grim and concentrating rather fiercely on whatever was in his mouth. So I asked "what's up" and he replies, "this bacon has a really weird taste. You should have stuck to the slimy rule." Oh great, just great. Now we both are waiting for our stomachs to explode today and I have to say that I think mine just did. gulp. I am NEVER ignoring the slimy rule again!!! NEVER, EVER. Slimy is bad, slimy is evil, slimy is - opps, gotta run.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Multi-lingual
It seems to be fairly common knowledge that people of my generation from the United States, and a bit younger, usually only speak one language, English. When I was in school, it was fairly rare to travel the world and just really uncommon for anyone to do much more, language wise, than take what was required to get a diploma. I believe that it has changed somewhat since then but it's still more common than not that U.S. citizens will only have one language good and solid under their belt. (I'm thinking that for some of the much younger generation, I'm not even sure they have English down pat as a language!)
I've tried at various times to learn different languages, mainly Spanish, but have failed miserably in that I don't practice, I don't study, and I just don't have a good ear for it either. I've tried Mandarin Chinese, French, German, and Korean at different times of my life. and while I might have a very minuscule vocabulary in each of them, I cannot say that I can speak, read, or write any of them. So it can be embarrassing when I meet people and they are speaking 3 or 4 or 7 or 8 different languages and I'm going "one". So as a kind of joke, I decided to claim more languages and I proudly list them out for people when asked.
Now I say I speak, write, read and understand 6 languages and they are: American, British, Canadian, eh, Australian, New Zealand, and finally Singaporean, la. This gets a very good laugh among my audience. But this week I have been vindicated in that they really are separate languages!!! How, you may ask. Well, we just bought a new computer for me. My old one was dying a very slow and painful death. (It does feel better today because it knows its days are numbered). My husband was working hard last night to get the new computer up and running and asked me whether I wanted British or American language on it! See - right there an indication that they are two languages. Since we are living in England, I said British.
My husband gets busy and is attempting to transfer my files and programs from the old computer to the new computer when he runs into a very large and big and unexpected snag! The new computer can't talk to the old computer and vice versa because they don't speak the same language! OMG. how very, very droll. All these years of declaring that I speak 6 languages and I suddenly find out that for computers, it is true and I am totally right! My new computer could not understand what my old computer was telling it. Sooo, he had to go back to the beginning and download a language program and change my new computer to American so that it can understand the old computer.
HA! all you smug people who snickered at me for not knowing more than one language when you knew 2 or 3, I knew 6 all along and now I have been vindicated. Thank you Google and Microsoft and Chrome and Internet Explorer and all the rest. Let me thank you in all six languages, Thanks, Thank you eh, Cheers, Thanks, Ta, Thank you la la.
I've tried at various times to learn different languages, mainly Spanish, but have failed miserably in that I don't practice, I don't study, and I just don't have a good ear for it either. I've tried Mandarin Chinese, French, German, and Korean at different times of my life. and while I might have a very minuscule vocabulary in each of them, I cannot say that I can speak, read, or write any of them. So it can be embarrassing when I meet people and they are speaking 3 or 4 or 7 or 8 different languages and I'm going "one". So as a kind of joke, I decided to claim more languages and I proudly list them out for people when asked.
Now I say I speak, write, read and understand 6 languages and they are: American, British, Canadian, eh, Australian, New Zealand, and finally Singaporean, la. This gets a very good laugh among my audience. But this week I have been vindicated in that they really are separate languages!!! How, you may ask. Well, we just bought a new computer for me. My old one was dying a very slow and painful death. (It does feel better today because it knows its days are numbered). My husband was working hard last night to get the new computer up and running and asked me whether I wanted British or American language on it! See - right there an indication that they are two languages. Since we are living in England, I said British.
My husband gets busy and is attempting to transfer my files and programs from the old computer to the new computer when he runs into a very large and big and unexpected snag! The new computer can't talk to the old computer and vice versa because they don't speak the same language! OMG. how very, very droll. All these years of declaring that I speak 6 languages and I suddenly find out that for computers, it is true and I am totally right! My new computer could not understand what my old computer was telling it. Sooo, he had to go back to the beginning and download a language program and change my new computer to American so that it can understand the old computer.
HA! all you smug people who snickered at me for not knowing more than one language when you knew 2 or 3, I knew 6 all along and now I have been vindicated. Thank you Google and Microsoft and Chrome and Internet Explorer and all the rest. Let me thank you in all six languages, Thanks, Thank you eh, Cheers, Thanks, Ta, Thank you la la.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
The Great Spaghetti Mystery
Our rental house has a couple of pull out pantries in the kitchen. They are quite nice and pull out to reveal 5 shelves each of the kitchen goodies that we use fairly regularly. Such things as ketchup and mustard, tuna packs, soups, various pastas, cereals, canned goods and you get the idea. When closed, the pantries are flush with the walls. The kitchen has been outfitted like most British kitchen so that everything looks like it is the same type of cabinet with doors and handles and such (including the refrigerator and freezer which really confused me when first looking at ads for houses, thinking there were no refrigerators in the kitchens). Anyway, I digress.
On the bottom shelf of one of the pull out pantries are our different pastas including a currently open package of spaghetti. For several days now, I have sometimes come into the kitchen to find broken pieces of spaghetti on the floor in several places. The first couple of times, I figured I had not closed the door tightly or that when opening and closing it, I had inadvertently broken off some piece of spaghetti that was hanging out of the package. Just pick up the broken pieces and toss them in the bin.
The third time it happened, I began to get a bit suspicious that something more was brewing in my pantry and kitchen that I was not privy to observe. Again, I picked up the pieces, tossed them but now, I opened the pantry to check the spaghetti. Nope, no pieces were sticking half out of the package. No pieces were loose in the pantry. Hmmm. mystery. So I am now alert to checking for spaghetti on the floor in the mornings OR the afternoons when I enter the kitchen. It was becoming more frequent. Now there are scattered pieces of broken spaghetti on the floor about 3 or 4 times a week. Each time, I clean up the floor, open the pantry, check the spaghetti package and then move on to the rest of my day. Why, you ask, did I not MOVE the spaghetti package to another location? Because now I am suspecting our daughter's cat. He is way too clever for his own good and really likes to explore everything and get into anything he possibly can, just to see if he can. Has he learned to open and close the pantry? It seems rather heavy to me. He has learned to open certain doors in the house that do not close tightly without an effort. He knows which doors these are too and when he finds them open, he always checks them to see if he can shove them open. He hates closed doors. I'd like to catch him at it!
I test the pantry now each time I pass through the kitchen. Nope, it's fairly solid and heavy, loaded as it is with canned goods and such. I am certain that he is not strong enough to wiggle underneath it and pull it open. Ah HA! Light dawns. I reach down under the edge of the cabinetry - the part that is really a facade on the front of the pantry so it looks like the rest of the kitchen. If I reach as far under as I can, I feel the spaghetti! OMG. The mystery is solved I believe. He is going under the door to grab out bits of spaghetti, not to eat them but to bat them around on the floor late at night when he's awake by himself and feeling the need of some relief from boredom. The little scamp. I've gone through almost half a package of spaghetti trying to solve this mystery but I am confident I have discovered the culprit, even without actually seeing him do it. My two cats are both too old and lazy to be bothered. And yes, I have now moved the spaghetti and put a sad end to his play in the dark of the kitchen.
On the bottom shelf of one of the pull out pantries are our different pastas including a currently open package of spaghetti. For several days now, I have sometimes come into the kitchen to find broken pieces of spaghetti on the floor in several places. The first couple of times, I figured I had not closed the door tightly or that when opening and closing it, I had inadvertently broken off some piece of spaghetti that was hanging out of the package. Just pick up the broken pieces and toss them in the bin.
The third time it happened, I began to get a bit suspicious that something more was brewing in my pantry and kitchen that I was not privy to observe. Again, I picked up the pieces, tossed them but now, I opened the pantry to check the spaghetti. Nope, no pieces were sticking half out of the package. No pieces were loose in the pantry. Hmmm. mystery. So I am now alert to checking for spaghetti on the floor in the mornings OR the afternoons when I enter the kitchen. It was becoming more frequent. Now there are scattered pieces of broken spaghetti on the floor about 3 or 4 times a week. Each time, I clean up the floor, open the pantry, check the spaghetti package and then move on to the rest of my day. Why, you ask, did I not MOVE the spaghetti package to another location? Because now I am suspecting our daughter's cat. He is way too clever for his own good and really likes to explore everything and get into anything he possibly can, just to see if he can. Has he learned to open and close the pantry? It seems rather heavy to me. He has learned to open certain doors in the house that do not close tightly without an effort. He knows which doors these are too and when he finds them open, he always checks them to see if he can shove them open. He hates closed doors. I'd like to catch him at it!
I test the pantry now each time I pass through the kitchen. Nope, it's fairly solid and heavy, loaded as it is with canned goods and such. I am certain that he is not strong enough to wiggle underneath it and pull it open. Ah HA! Light dawns. I reach down under the edge of the cabinetry - the part that is really a facade on the front of the pantry so it looks like the rest of the kitchen. If I reach as far under as I can, I feel the spaghetti! OMG. The mystery is solved I believe. He is going under the door to grab out bits of spaghetti, not to eat them but to bat them around on the floor late at night when he's awake by himself and feeling the need of some relief from boredom. The little scamp. I've gone through almost half a package of spaghetti trying to solve this mystery but I am confident I have discovered the culprit, even without actually seeing him do it. My two cats are both too old and lazy to be bothered. And yes, I have now moved the spaghetti and put a sad end to his play in the dark of the kitchen.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Eulogy to my friend - CS
Most of my friends are ex-pats. Several reasons: (1) shared experiences (and all ex-pats know this feeling that when you start to explain anything to a non-ex-pat, their eyes glaze over because they can't comprehend the lifestyle) (2) I don't make friends easily because I'm fairly shy but being an ex-pat in a small community situation (like when we lived in row houses in Okpo, Korea) means you have to get to know the people in the same community and (3) I find it much easier to keep in touch with people via email, facebook, letters, holiday cards, etc. I consider some of my ex-pat friends to be my best friends because of the experiences we have shared and the hardships/fun/trials and tribulations on moving, living in a country that doesn't speak English, trying to find "proper" food, etc. And often I don't see these friends for years at a time because our husbands move onto different projects and our paths don't cross. But I miss them and keep in touch, sometimes sporadically, but if our husbands come back together on a project, we pick up our friendships exactly where we left it. CS was such a person, a wonderful friend but we haven't seen each other in years as our husbands have been on different projects.
Last week I saw on facebook that my friend was having a birthday so I sent a birthday greeting. I got a message back from her husband that she was in the hospital and dying of breast cancer. OMG. I had no clue. She is someone I consider one of my best ex-pat friends. This was sad news indeed. Then yesterday I got on the computer to see another message from "her". Her husband wrote that she had died the previous night and the funeral was Friday. I had to cry and I am still tearing up that my friend had kept her illness pretty much a secret from a lot of us ex-pat friends and that I never had a chance to say goodbye and tell her how much I valued her friendship and enjoyed her company.
My friend was delightful. She had a wickedly droll sense of humor. Often on a comment of hers I would pause and think "she did NOT just say that" before dissolving into laughter over the comedy of it and the situation of it. We shared an unusual life in Korea in a small town for awhile and then her husband moved on to a rotational existence and she settled down in the Pacific Northwest. Part of our time together was in Houston also. They had a weird dog and let me walk it on occasion which was difficult because everyone wanted to come see what kind of dog it was but the dog was adamant about getting into fights with any other male dog. So I'd cross the street continually to avoid other dogs. What I didn't realize even then was my friend was probably struggling with cancer and it was probably a relief to have someone take care of the dog. But that's conjecture on my part. It was nice for me because I didn't want a full time dog responsibility but walking their dog was good.
She had wonderful stories as well. Her heritage was Japanese and some of her stories of her grandmother trying to survive the war were bitter sweet comedies of errors and bad luck at the beginning and good luck at the end. Her other stories were equally cool as she could deliver a story dead serious only to have you falling down in laughter later. She was very patient as an ex-pat wife has to be when her husband is only home every other month to fix things around the house and yet she was also good at getting it done herself when needed.
I should have realized that her Facebook comments were getting scattered and few and far between but time passes rather quickly for me and I just hadn't a clue. Her husband told me that she had been diagnosed 18 years ago with breast cancer so the entire time I knew her, she never said a word. I wish she had let me help her, in any way I could have. But she was always fun to be with and upbeat and the only time I heard her complain was when she was tired of having a part time husband, which we all complain about when our husbands are on rotation. She never complained about her health although I think that briefly she might have mentioned it in passing when she was better. So briefly that I'm not sure if she did or not. So I salute my friend and her steadfastness and determination to beat this thing and am very, very sorry that she has finally lost the battle. Since I cannot make the funeral, I will honor her in my own way by posting this for our mutual friends to see, they will know who CS is. And I will make a donation to some good breast cancer fund in her name. And I will even wear pink ribbons when the time is right for breast cancer campaigns. Good luck and keep well to her husband and daughter and her family members left behind. Goodbye CS. Bless you and keep you. I love you and miss you.
Last week I saw on facebook that my friend was having a birthday so I sent a birthday greeting. I got a message back from her husband that she was in the hospital and dying of breast cancer. OMG. I had no clue. She is someone I consider one of my best ex-pat friends. This was sad news indeed. Then yesterday I got on the computer to see another message from "her". Her husband wrote that she had died the previous night and the funeral was Friday. I had to cry and I am still tearing up that my friend had kept her illness pretty much a secret from a lot of us ex-pat friends and that I never had a chance to say goodbye and tell her how much I valued her friendship and enjoyed her company.
My friend was delightful. She had a wickedly droll sense of humor. Often on a comment of hers I would pause and think "she did NOT just say that" before dissolving into laughter over the comedy of it and the situation of it. We shared an unusual life in Korea in a small town for awhile and then her husband moved on to a rotational existence and she settled down in the Pacific Northwest. Part of our time together was in Houston also. They had a weird dog and let me walk it on occasion which was difficult because everyone wanted to come see what kind of dog it was but the dog was adamant about getting into fights with any other male dog. So I'd cross the street continually to avoid other dogs. What I didn't realize even then was my friend was probably struggling with cancer and it was probably a relief to have someone take care of the dog. But that's conjecture on my part. It was nice for me because I didn't want a full time dog responsibility but walking their dog was good.
She had wonderful stories as well. Her heritage was Japanese and some of her stories of her grandmother trying to survive the war were bitter sweet comedies of errors and bad luck at the beginning and good luck at the end. Her other stories were equally cool as she could deliver a story dead serious only to have you falling down in laughter later. She was very patient as an ex-pat wife has to be when her husband is only home every other month to fix things around the house and yet she was also good at getting it done herself when needed.
I should have realized that her Facebook comments were getting scattered and few and far between but time passes rather quickly for me and I just hadn't a clue. Her husband told me that she had been diagnosed 18 years ago with breast cancer so the entire time I knew her, she never said a word. I wish she had let me help her, in any way I could have. But she was always fun to be with and upbeat and the only time I heard her complain was when she was tired of having a part time husband, which we all complain about when our husbands are on rotation. She never complained about her health although I think that briefly she might have mentioned it in passing when she was better. So briefly that I'm not sure if she did or not. So I salute my friend and her steadfastness and determination to beat this thing and am very, very sorry that she has finally lost the battle. Since I cannot make the funeral, I will honor her in my own way by posting this for our mutual friends to see, they will know who CS is. And I will make a donation to some good breast cancer fund in her name. And I will even wear pink ribbons when the time is right for breast cancer campaigns. Good luck and keep well to her husband and daughter and her family members left behind. Goodbye CS. Bless you and keep you. I love you and miss you.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Venting Inside
Ha ha, bet you thought this was going to be a blog about ranting and raving and venting all your feelings inside. Wrong. It's about weather and winter and how it's getting colder and the days are getting shorter and when the sun goes down, it starts getting pretty chilly in the house. We learned this trick a long time ago to help put some heat in the house and also some moisture as it gets pretty dry. Once we are fairly sure the warm days are gone, we pull the dryer vent hose into the house, block up the hole that it goes through to the outside, put one hose (as in panty hose) over the end to catch all the dryer lint, and voila! Every time we use the dryer now, we have additional heat entering the house and also some moisture. And by using dryer sheets, we get a nice lavender or citrus smell through the house as well.
We've done this for years. In Houston, doesn't last very long, just a few months that it is necessary to get the heat. When we have lived in colder climates, it really makes a difference and saves a bunch of energy. Our house in England has a wonderfully big room that used to be a garage. It has a very high ceiling and is definitely the coldest room in the house during the winter. Usually we are sitting in there watching TV and wrapped up in quilts with small space heaters turned towards us. Yesterday I had the dryer vented into the house and we watched TV in comfort. Didn't need to wrap up in quilts. So my challenge will now be to make sure I have something to dry whenever we want to sit in that room and watch TV. OK, not going to happen every night but it will help some nights.
We've done this for years. In Houston, doesn't last very long, just a few months that it is necessary to get the heat. When we have lived in colder climates, it really makes a difference and saves a bunch of energy. Our house in England has a wonderfully big room that used to be a garage. It has a very high ceiling and is definitely the coldest room in the house during the winter. Usually we are sitting in there watching TV and wrapped up in quilts with small space heaters turned towards us. Yesterday I had the dryer vented into the house and we watched TV in comfort. Didn't need to wrap up in quilts. So my challenge will now be to make sure I have something to dry whenever we want to sit in that room and watch TV. OK, not going to happen every night but it will help some nights.
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