Joey is my husband’s consentido (preferred son). Yes, he is equine and not human, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference to my husband. So since my son recently had a room remodel to honor his approaching adulthood (See Ladykiller’s room remodel), there was nothing to be done but give Joey a room remodel as well. Wouldn’t want to play favorites, you know.
Off came the lamina (corrugated tin) roof. My husband wanted a cement roof for Joey, under the guise of adding a side porch for me and my container garden. He didn’t fool me one bit. I knew who he was appeasing here.
It was a smaller section than our last roof project (See Up on the roof that nearly wasn’t), only measuring 7 meters by 5 meters, and my husband was pretty sure that he could have it done over Easter break. Once he gets an idea in his head, there is no stopping him, so I didn’t even try.
He did the castillos (supports) and set up the wood by himself. The day of the actual roof building he didn’t even wait until I arrived to help out.
The coladores (roofers) were a younger lot than the last crew and apparently weren’t drinkers. I had asked if I needed to bring some caguamas (beer) because the lack of alcohol had been an issue with the last roof building and was told no. I asked if I should bring some carnitas (fried pig meat) or some other food for lunch for the workers. Again, my husband said no. Apparently, he had offered 150 pesos for the work plus lunch or 180 pesos and a soda. To a man, the workers chose the 180 pesos and a soda option.
So the work went smoothly with only one run for more sand to finish the job. The mixer worked just fine, we had enough nails for the ramp, no animals escaped and wrecked havoc. There was a small hitch when there was no tortilla paper to be found to roll the mota (marijuana), but they accepted a sheet of notebook paper and called it good. Hmm.
Although it was a much smaller project than the last roof, it still was a full day’s work. After the cement was poured, there was the smoothing and tamping down, and finally the splashing of the water. I really couldn’t believe how uncomplicated it had been.
My husband is now making plans for a window for Joey and even talked about putting a tinaco (water storage container) on the roof for a shower for Joey. Good grief! Next, he’ll want me to make curtains and put down a rug!
Of course, something did go wrong. Joey went bananas!
So with my new acquisition of a singer treadle sewing machine (See Dirty and Ragged?), I was all impatient to get started. Unfortunately, my schedule didn’t allow me a chance to get right on it and my machine languished a week without me touching it. Finally, vacation started and I jumped right in with both feet. I was going to make millions with my new machine. Well, I wasn’t really aiming for millions, just enough to pay for the thing, it was rather a luxury item after all.
Loading the bobbin!
So I sat down and determined to figure out how to use it. I spent 40 minutes trying to thread the needle. Then another 2 hours trying to figure out how to load the bobbin. I had to give it a rest after that. When my husband came home from work, I begged him to look at the machine since I was near tears. What could I be doing wrong? He said that his grandmother Sofia always put the foot down before fishing for the bobbin string. He did that and VOILA! It was ready to sew. DUH!
Well, I had enough for that day, but I was up and at’em early the next morning. I found that morning was not the time to sew. I had strategically placed my machine in the back room, giving me plenty of light and room to work. However, it’s an east facing room and entirely too bright for morning sewing. Sigh. Oh well, I had to wait until the afternoon and did the less exciting chores in the morning.
Finally, after lunch, I cleared my schedule to begin. My goal was to make a few pillows out of scraps I had been collecting from our old clothes. Pillows seemed an easy project, I’ve had some experience with making and selling those at Ye Olde Crappe Shoppe.
My make-shift bandages
So I pinked and pinked and pinked until I had blisters on my fingers. After a few hours work, though, I had a nice pile of usable rectangles. I realized I may have gone a little overboard when my husband starting hiding his pants from me afraid I’d cut them to bits. Time for the next step.
Piles and piles of pinked fabric
I picked a flower patterned group and a contrasting solid beige color for my first pillow and sat down at my machine, raring to go.
It was like I’d never sewn before. I bent the needle, didn’t pin appropriately and had the fabric move, had to rethread 40 million times, sewed the wrong sides together, had the thread bunch up, had to rip out the seams and start again, and tore the fabric piece. Maybe it was time to rethink my plan for world domination through sewing.
I did finally get the hang of it and produced a pillow. That was enough for that day!
Over the 2 week vacation period, I spent nearly every afternoon in the back room, cutting and pinning and stitching. My son said that he’d heard me cackling with glee on several occasions. My husband started complaining about the big mess I was making (that’s what he calls all my projects). It was amazing! I could go as long as the light or my legs held out. By the end of the week, I had oodles of completed pillow cases ready to be stuffed.
Some of my scrap pillows!
Only, I didn’t have any stuffing. As the whole point was to earn money without spending any more, the pillow cases were lovingly folded in my great Aunt Tootie’s hope chest (the one she bought when she married the tugboat captain from Virginia that I brought all the way to Mexico with me). And I moved on to other projects.
I hemmed my work pants and jeans. This is an essential part of my wardrobe because, although most Mexican women are 2-3 inches shorter than me, all Mexican made women’s pants are 5-6 inches too long for me. So I hem. That saved me about $500 pesos. Then I made a bed skirt, curtains and blanket for my son’s room remodel. That saved me some money too. I went further and made new covers for our pillows and restuffed them, adding a pinch of lavender for freshness. It was like having new pillows and saved me $100 pesos per pillow.
Well, I suppose that saving money and making money are essentially the same thing. All in all, my treadle sewing machine was a good investment after all.
A few weeks ago I realized I couldn’t see a thing. My transition lens had snapped, crackled and well, not quite popped, but you get the picture. They were more than 6 years old and I use them every day, riding the moto in sun, rain, wind and occasional hail, so I guess I certainly got my money’s worth.
I really didn’t want to bother with new glasses. I dug out the pair circa 1990. Voila! Well, of course, I look like an owl, but I’m too old to worry about fashion, right? I started calling them my night-vision goggles because they were so clear I could practically see in the dark. And that was a problem. Yep, I can’t see to drive with them as they MAGNIFY the sun’s rays to the extent that I’m nearly driving with my eyes closed. Not safe.
So I started researching if I could repair my crackled glasses myself–maybe if I took the protective covering off? I tried fingernail polish remover. It didn’t work. The wonderful world of internet suggested Armour Glass Etching Cream.
Only I couldn’t find Armour Etch in any of our local stores. Amazon had some, but a bottle was more than 600 pesos. I only needed a little bit! My sister found some at a craft store and picked up a bottle for me. I’m waiting for it to arrive and do its magic.
Meanwhile, I decided that a pair of prescription sunglasses was what I needed. I stopped at one optometrist the afternoon of the teacher meeting (See Mexican Educational Reform and Political Wrangling) that I missed so that I could make my lab appointment. (See All Around the Health Care Bush) I went in, looked around and knocked on the glass display case. There was no one there. I waited a bit while I perused the frame options. Finally, the clerk dashed into the store with a bit of donut on her cheek. She had stepped out for a quick snack apparently.
I asked if it were possible to repair the glasses I already had. She hemmed and hawed and basically said no. I could replace the lenses if I like, but she couldn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t break the frames when they put the new ones in. Did I know what the prescription was for these lenses? No, well, then I would need an eye exam too. The exam would be 400 pesos and the two lenses would be 700 pesos, plus new frames because hey, the new lens insertion process might just break them. Ok, well, I’d think about it.
So I went to another place. The eye exam would be 250 pesos and I could go right in. The optometrist was about 70. His diploma (with picture) showed him at about age 20 and from the looks of the wood paneled office, that’s about the last time the office was remodeled. I swear his eye checker machine was used as a prop for the series Little House on the Prairie when Mary was going blind, but I suppose it was in working order.
He called out for his secretary to check the prescription of my glasses. That little procedure seemed to be top-secret, but there must have been a machine in the outer office that would determine the prescription of my lenses because less than 2 minutes later she was back with the prescription. Must be something the girl at the first place knew nothing about. The comparison of my eye exam and my lens prescription showed that my eyes had changed very little in the last 6 years. I didn’t need an eye exam after all. At least, it was only 250 pesos.
The elderly optometrist said that I would be a good candidate for a surgery that was not LASIK surgery to correct my eyesight. I certainly wasn’t interested in that! What if something went wrong and I ended up blind—that’s sorta permanent you know. Glasses would be fine.
The elderly optometrist also gave me a list of vitamins he said I should take–Resvit (a vitamin capsule), Blefa-ir for blefaritis (burning of the eyes), Luvit (couldn’t find any information on that), and Lagrilub (which is a company that specializes in pharmaceuticals).
I don’t know about you, but I have never had an eye exam that ended with a list of vitamins in the US. I was suspicious of this snake oil salesman tactic. Besides, my eyes only started burning when the optometrist put in the yellow burny drops to check who knows what in my eyes. I told the secretary (who was probably the wife) that I didn’t get paid until Monday (which was true) and that I only wanted to pay for the exam today. I picked out frames but didn’t pay for them–remember payday was still 3 days away. I made sure it would be ok to pay part on Monday and pay the other half on the next payday and it was. My glasses would be more than I make during one quincena (2 week pay period) That just made my day!
I went back on Monday afternoon, having already successfully had a blood draw in the morning (see All Around the Health Care Bush), and put down a deposit. The office girl (probably the daughter of the secretary and optometrist as she very clearly resembled them both) wrote me out a receipt and said the glasses would be there “en 8 dias” (one week) but that there was no problem in picking it up on the 15th. Yippee!!
Well, the place is only open on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and the 15th fell on a Tuesday this year, so I had to wait until the 16th to pick up my glasses. They were there all right and everything was hunky dory. I let her clean the lenses but didn’t wait for much else before snatching them up and putting them on. Oh HAPPY Day! I could see! I placed my magnifying night-vision goggles in the glass case and skipped back to my moto.
So, since I opted for the sunglasses rather than the transition lenses, I do have to change my glasses when I go inside, or when I’m outside and it’s dark, but overall, I’m pleased with this particular health care transaction.
My new shades–because the future is so bright you know!
