In response to your other questions, you can plant a potted rose just about anytime, but in the middle of the hot summer (or cold winter) is not the best time--although I have done it on occasion. In Zone 6, they are usually planted in the spring, after the last threat of freeze. That basically means the month of May in my Zone 6 (Kansas--not all Zone 6s are identical, however). The hotter it gets (July - Aug), the more care they will need--water, protective shade, etc. I've never planted roses during autumn, so don't know about that, but I'd worry about whether they had enough time to get their roots well-established before winter arrived. Perhaps other posters have had other experiences. If the roses are bare-root, they should be planted in early spring--let's say March, maybe into April (in Zone 6). As for soil, I wouldn't worry much about it unless you have extremely sandy or extremely clay soil. Dig a hole 1.5-2 ft deep and wide and mix some manure in the lose soil. You can buy manure in bags at places like Wal-mart, Home Depot, etc. In the autumn, do not prune. Pruning is an early spring activity. Exception: if a rose suddenly grows a superlong cane that might whip around in the winter wind, you might want to trim it back a bit. As for winter protection, I do not mess around with it in my Zone 6. I make sure when I buy roses that they are not unusually tender and therefore in need of extra help. However, my neighbors grow oak trees, the leaves of which blow into my yard, so nature provides some minimal natural protection. You could pile up some extra mulch around them if you are worried about how they will survive. I'm too lazy to do all that work--and I only have 60+ roses. Some posters here grow roses by the 100s! Harry--love that picture! Kate

I would love to go to a lecture on color where the information came from real knowledge & experience, but, sadly, most of the ones that I've had the misfortune to have to sit through have been Crying-Baby-Yellow level: that is, not only was the info basic but much of it was worthlessly anecdotal. The good news about that is that it means that anything above that is a step in the right direction--even if it's a baby step. So my suggestion is not about your subject, since I'm no expert on using color--merely its historical usage--but about how to present material that your audience should know but may not know, without, of course, revealing that you know they don't know it. It gets tricky. No one gets as huffy at the subtle implication that he doesn't know what he's talking about as the guy who really doesn't know what he's talking about. The hyperventilating indignation is always the clue to the poseur. Like Shakespeare says, "The lady doth protest too much." Anyway, if you present your material not as knowledge per se aimed at them, but as an approach that they themselves can use to present it to their clients, things will go fine. That is, you talk as though they already know everything you have to say--and that you know they know (even though they may not)--and that the only thing that your audience lacks--because they're visual, not verbal experts--is the ability to explain important (and sometimes complicated) color concepts & theories in such a simple way that even non-professionals can understand them. It's the decorating version of the old "Doctor-a-friend-of-mine-has-a-problem" approach, except you'll be playing the part of the dcotor, and you'll tell them how to explain color things to their "friends." It's silly but it lets everyone keep his self-respect. I've never had to perform this little charade in regards to color, but I frequently have to do it with groups of architectural students & their professors, who, amazingly enough, often know almost nothing of architectural history. It's actually pretty shocking. Anyway, when I do, I preface the whole thing--and my spiel can be pretty heavy-duty: I once transcribed it and then annotated it with my sources and when I got done it had almost 200 footnotes for an hour talk. I don't dumb it down for anybody--with "for those of you who already know all this"--and here's where I give the profs a smile of affirmation that they are, indeed, much more knowledgeable than I am--"please be patient, since I want to make sure the first-year people have the background here, too." Then I sprinkle what I say with plenty of asides: "You already know that Chicago is built on marshland..." & "Think of the Guggenheim Museum's entry sequence..." & "Now, you probably remember know that Louis Sullivan went to school in Paris..." which, things, unfortunmately, many of them don't know, but they don't want to admit it. This way, however, I provide the information they need to understand what they're seeing, but only on the basis that they're merely being "reminded" of what they already know, not that they're being told something for the first time. And there's another benefit of verbally expressing your assurance that most of your audience already knows your material--even when they don't--it eliminates all the head-bobbing that comes when I mention something that they do know, and they want to make sure everyone in the audience KNOWS that they know it. That drives me crazy. It's like hollerin out "Amen"s in church. At any rate, if you can package your info--whatever it is, and good luck on that--into a format which makes it easy for your audience to pass it along to their clients & employees, then you know they're bound to absorb a lot of it themselves, without ever having to admit that it's the first time that they themselves understood it. Best of all, in the future, they'll look to you as an authority. Ah, the games we're forced to play to avoid damaging anyone's precious self-esteem... Regards, MAGNAVERDE.

A Bit of Nostalgia.......does anyone remember the Chalfont in Cape May, N.J. or the Chalfont-Haddon Hall in Atlantic City ?? Chalfonte's Southern Fried Chicken 1 frying chicken -- (3-pound) quartered Salt 1 cup flour 2 tablespoons paprika Black pepper to taste 2 cups shortening or corn oil (or a 2-inch depth for frying) 1 medium onion -- sliced 1. Soak the chicken in salted water for 1 hour. (Add 1 tablespoon salt to each quart of water.) Drain chicken and pat dry. 2. Meanwhile, in a bag or bowl, mix flour, paprika, salt to taste and pepper. Add the chicken and shake to coat thoroughly. 3. In a large skillet or deep fryer, heat the shortening or oil to 365 to 375 degrees. Place the onion in the hot oil. (Adjust the heat as needed to keep the oil sizzling moderately, but don't let it burn.) 4. Add the chicken to hot oil, again adjusting the heat. Fry for 10 minutes. Turn chicken and fry until tender, crisp and browned, about 10 more minutes. (Test for doneness with a fork, or watch for the breast meat to split along the muscle.) Note: As long as the oil is sizzling, moisture is being forced out of the chicken as steam, preventing the meat from absorbing excess oil. The Chalfonte chicken still sizzles in the pan Today's request takes us back to 1990, when a visit to the Chalfonte in Cape May, N.J., found the chef at that grand Victorian resort hotel holding court in her bright, airy kitchen on a sunny August day. Quick as any teen, Helen Dickerson simul- taneously supervised the dinner preparation, answered a reporter's questions, and kept an ear tuned to her favorite afternoon soaps. At 81, Miss Helen (as she liked to be called) still ruled her kitchen domain, though the heavier cooking chores had been delegated to her two assistants, her daughters Dorothy Burton, then 63, and Lucille Thompson, 61. Miss Helen shared memories of her more than 70 years at the Chalfonte, 45 of them in charge of the kitchen, along with recipes for dishes such as the fried chicken that continues as the star item on the hotel's Sunday dinner menu. It is that recipe, clipped from The Inquirer's Food section but later mislaid, that reader Joe Ochman mentioned first in his recent e-mail to us. Miss Helen's talent for Southern-style cooking brought her national attention. Her recipes were collected into a cookbooklet by the hotel. And the outspoken Miss Helen often stole the show during television appearances with talk-show hosts such as Phil Donahue. Miss Helen died just a few months after our article about her was published. Her daughters, now 75 and 72, inherited their mother's kitchen at the Chalfonte. And hundreds of chickens continue to be fried there on summer Sundays in the aged, oversize cast-iron skillets, each holding a dozen or more chicken quarters at a time. Keys to the recipe's success are the soaking, which keeps the chicken moist, plus the onion flavor and the sizzling temperature of the oil. The onions go into the hot fat first and stay there until the chicken is done, Burton said. Source: "Marilyn Marter Column, Phila Inquirer, April 4, 2001 Yield: "4 servings"

I did have an inspection and he did give me some info, just not anything I am experiencing now. It was painted perfectly and looked amazing and 6 months in the seams in the drywall are visible everywhere, nails coming out at ceiling and so on. I have already replaced the dishwasher, microwave, subpump, water heater is next. I purchased the home warranty so that should cover that. My realtor was not very helpful. It was my first experience but when I asked many people about what I experienced they said it wasn't right. She was always unavailable and I never got straight answers. She picked the inspector and there was alot I didn't know if it was right or wrong. Lesson learned. I was just curious what that person is called? The person who knows about everything or near everything in a house. Is it just a handyman or a contractor? I'm just worried about wasting someone's time expecially during this pandemic. I don't know what the right thing to do or who to call. Sorry so long. I am a handy person I just am a little overwhelmed at the moment.