I am so close to resolving my window shade problem.
For several months, I battled Hunter Douglas and Home Depot for replacement of defective shades.
Four of the five shades fell apart and could not be repaired.
I paid a workman to take them down and bought temporary paper shades to cover my windows and protect my furniture and hardwood floors from the blazing sun.
So, instead of custom shades from Hunter Douglas in my living room, I had paper shades. Really sad!
I buy small containers of black beans from a local Cuban restaurant.
They are good but expensive. Plus, the restaurant is far away, adding the feeling of a pilgrimage to buy them.
I could eat one container in one sitting, but I stretch the beans by adding them to burritos, salads, or rice. Sometimes, I do eat them plain. They are so good.
Yesterday I decided I would break the cycle and cook my own black beans from scratch.
Dried organic black turtle beans sell for $3.99 a pound at my grocer, less than the cost of one small container of cooked beans.
I approach this with trepidation.
I have not had good luck cooking black beans. Probably too much liquid or too little attention to the beans as they cooked resulting in mushy, flavorless beans.
To begin this rustic cooking journey, I measured one cup of dried beans and soaked them overnight in the refrigerator.
This morning I rinsed them and tossed any questionable beans.
While the beans drained in a colander, I toasted cumin, smoked Spanish paprika and a few chili flakes for less than a minute. The smell was incredible.
Then I added the beans and water, bringing them to a boil.
Now they are simmering with the lid halfway over the pot, a compromise to covering or not covering the pot.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enticed me from my warm bed.
It felt wonderful to enjoy a cup of hot coffee while sitting in front of the fire in my living room. It was still dark outside and so quiet.
A long leisurely morning was not in the cards as I had to leave early for the gym.
Driving there I noticed that my tire pressure readings were 32 per tire.
I know very little about tire pressure but I was nervous because 35 is the recommended tire pressure. I could just see me with a blow-out waiting for AAA on a really cold morning.
Also, I had planned a quick jaunt down the freeway later in the morning so this had to be resolved before I left home again.
Photo by u0412u043bu0430u0434u0438u043cu0438u0440 u0413u043bu0430u0434u043au043eu0432 on Pexels.com
At the gym my trainer worked me very hard as she was leaving for Japan for a couple of weeks. This took my mind off the problem.
Back in the car, one tire pressure had risen to 33…some improvement. Still, this was not enough to risk driving on the freeway.
So, driving home from the gym, I stopped by the local Shell station. As the attendant filled my tank, I asked her if she could help me put pressure in my tires. A skill not in my repertoire!
Long story short, she was so gracious and helped me fill all of the tires. I learned how to use the machine…easy peasy! I was so grateful to her! I felt so empowered!
This was a little victory that had a big impact on my day. It was a joy to drive knowing that my tires were fully inflated!
~Photo from Pexels.com~ This is not me. I dressed in warm layers and sensible shoes on this cold day.