We have just concluded a clamorous jamboree; Bobby has now departed, and the children have all gone off to bed.
First, Bobby played the piano while Dorcas and Hannah played their violins. Next, Hannah played the piano while Bobby and Keith played their saxophones and Dorcas played the organ. Teddy played his C-Major harmonica anytime the song was in the key of C, and Larry sang soprano.
Then, when no one was paying any attention to me, I got out the accordion which Lyle gave Keith shortly before he died and started playing it, making several heads swivel around in surprise. Bobby didn’t even know we owned an accordion. I can’t play it very long, because it’s too heavy for my poor old arthritic shoulders. Anyway, we were right in the throes of a stentorian Joyful Noise, when I suddenly noticed: the music room window was open.
That’s the window closest to our neighbors. . .and their lights were off! And it was 11:00 p.m.
Fortunately, they are usually much louder than we are, and they seem to like us pretty well, so maybe they’ll forgive us.
We hastily closed the window before continuing our melodious racket. Somebody, however, seemed to be off tune. I stopped playing and applied my ear to discern the derivation of the discordant din. And guess who it was?
It was Victoria, crawling about at our feet, pushing buttons on Joseph’s electronic motorcycle.
Newspapers and radio have been buzzing about El Niño. It’s nothing new to us; Joseph creates an El Niño every evening, right here in the house, with his blistering hot showers. And yes, it changes the weather in the entire abode. Rain clouds, fog, and static electricity move in and descend. Temperate zones become tropical isles, complete with oppressing humidity and new mold growths.
And, just as El Niño causes drought in other places on earth, so do Joseph’s pyretical showers bring about a dearth of hot water for ensuing shower-takers.
However, there is one good thing that comes from all this: the other children, immediately upon finishing their supper, rush off to take their showers first, without any urging from me.
Tuesday afternoon and evening we first had freezing rain, then snow. It was so slick, Dorcas and Keith both wound up flatter’n pancakes on the turf. Hester, having just slid down my mother’s steep, icy driveway, came to an abrupt halt at the end of the ice. Bother with people who scoop and salt sidewalks!
Snow and high winds were predicted for Wednesday, so school was canceled. As it turned out, the day was fine; but the roads were still awfully slippery, so it was just as well we called off school, since several of our students live some distance away, several in the country. And it was a welcome break, after all.
Hannah spent the afternoon baking and crocheting; Teddy and Joseph spent part of the afternoon riding on a toboggan behind the four-wheeler, which Larry was driving. I spent the afternoon and evening writing out checks, sticking them in envelopes, sealing envelopes, putting stamps on envelopes, and addressing envelopes.
And practicing my subtraction in the checkbook.
That day some new books by Janette Oke arrived in the mail; so, rather than sew that night, as I should’ve, I read. And read. And read. Just before Larry’s alarm went off, I hastily turned off the light and pretended to be asleep, so he wouldn’t know I’d stayed up all night reading again; if he did, then the next time I wanted to stay up reading ‘for just a little while’ (that’s what I always say, of course), he’d try to take the book away from me, and we’d wind up having a first-rate brawl. I usually win, because Larry doesn’t want to hurt me, and I hang onto the book with all my might and main. (And he’s ticklish.) (But he might coax me into giving up the book; and then I’d be sadly unread.)
So, if he doesn’t know I’ve just recently stayed up all night reading, perhaps he’ll still believe me when I say I’ll turn out the light ‘in just a minute or two!’
When we lived in our mobile home, our first place of abode, the switch box was in our bedroom. So, when I was staying in the kitchen sewing, and Larry wanted me to come to bed, he’d just throw the main breaker, and put me right out of business, wham. I’d go storming back to the bedroom to demand that the electricity be restored, posthaste, and invariably get tackled and hauled straight to bed.
So, if I wanted to stay up and sew, I learned to go to bed first, wait until Larry was sleeping soundly, and then creep back out to the kitchen.
Keith bought a brand-new snowplow for the front of his pickup. It’s three or four years old, but has never been used. A new one is $2,800; he got it for $1,500. Larry helped him put it on and hook up all the wiring on it and the flashing yellow light for the top of the cab. Now Keith is hoping for a big snow, so he can make some extra money.
This week I made Hester a skirt, and cut out a skirt for Dorcas and dresses for Hannah and Victoria and Hester. Lydia likes to bring all her dolls into my room when I’m sewing, arrange them on the bed, and sit amongst them, changing them, feeding them, and talking to me. She’s an enjoyable little dear to have around, prone to giving sudden, unexpected hugs.
Victoria now says “high chair” each time I’m putting her in it to feed her. Or is it “Hi, chair!” I wonder. Perhaps she thinks we’ve taught her to greet the chair?
Monday we ordered a prescription of Imitrex, medicine for migraines, for Joseph. Hannah went to get it for me, and I sent along a signed check. Nine pills come in the box.
It cost $109.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Help! I had no idea they cost so much! I called the pharmacist to find out if they’d made a mistake; no such luck. The patent on this medicine has not yet expired, so no generic form may be produced yet; and there is no other comparable medication, so there is no competition. Also, the store (Walgreens) has a policy against refunding returned prescriptions without a valid reason (‘I can’t afford it’ isn’t a valid reason?), because they must discard of all returned medicines and absorb the cost themselves. The pharmacist told me I could talk to the manager the following day, and he might let me return it (he probably would, too; he’s really nice to us); but I decided not to.
Perhaps it’s a good thing we kept them, because today Joseph had another migraine headache, quite a bad one. He turns white as a sheet, and gets sick to his stomach. He took a pill (a $12.11 pill)--and got over the headache.
Yes, I guess I like my little boy enough to let him have Imitrex. If I have the money, he can have the Imitrex!
Thursday Hannah, Dorcas, and I cleaned out the hall closet, which had a bad case of clozzicreep. (That’s when you close one folding door, and everything creeps right out the other one, folding the door back as it comes.) And guess what I found!--my nice black jersey cardigan which my sister gave me for my birthday several years ago, and which I only wore once before it disappeared off the face of the earth. We put several bags of ugly and unusable things in bags which Keith hauled up to the attic to await somebody’s garage sale next summer, when we’ll hope to gain profit off of somebody who fancies ugly, unusable things.
I found quite a pile of coats and jackets that needed to be mended; I finished that mending the following day, and several of the kids were delighted to find a ‘new’ coat just their size.
Thursday after Junior Choir, we went to Wal-Mart’s Shoe Center, where we got some boots for Lydia and me, and school shoes for Teddy. The hand-me-downs Lydia had been wearing were all cracked and crinkly, as mine were, too. I declare, we might as well have worn nothing but socks, so waterproof were our boots! Lydia’s are purple, fuchsia, and teal; nice, soft rubber with furry lining. Mine are black Sorels, handmade in Canada, with a removable lining, and black fur around the top and down the front. These are by far the warmest boots I’ve ever had, and now I badly need to go hiking in the snow, I do I do I do!
We now have yet another newborn cousin (a third or fourth cousin, I think) named Hannah. Furthermore, the two recent Hannah’s are second cousins to each other. My mother wanted to send the four new babies bibs and silverware, so when we were at Wal-Mart, I got the bibs for her.
Now, if you’ll recall, she’s been eating baby food recently on account of her teeth bothering her; that same night, we got her several jars of baby food.
And then, evidently not knowing who the bibs were for, Caleb said, said he, “Does Grandma need baby bibs to eat her baby food?”
Thursday night for supper I broiled some ocean perch we got from the Schwan man. The house still reeked of fish, the next afternoon. So Dorcas cored a couple dozen apples, filled the holes with butter and brown sugar, and baked them. Mmmmmmm… Essence of Fish, all gone.
Saturday afternoon, everybody but Hannah, Dorcas, Victoria, and me went tobogganing, being pulled by the four-wheeler in fields near Larry’s shop. Hannah didn’t go sledding, because she was executing a vitally essential article: crocheting a bookmark for Bobby with his name cross-stitched in bright embroidery floss. Dorcas was crocheting a doll dress--another one for a friend who is paying her to make them for her granddaughters; I was cutting out Easter clothes; and Victoria was napping.
Last night Larry and I found, at a nearby truck stop, a little teal model Suburban, 1:24 to scale, with opening doors and back hatch. We’ll save it for Joseph’s birthday--if we can wait that long. It really does look a lot like ours.
Victoria was eleven months old yesterday. Goodness! That’s hard to believe. The older I get, the more time flies. She's learning to crawl--an entirely absorbing venture.
Then, when no one was paying any attention to me, I got out the accordion which Lyle gave Keith shortly before he died and started playing it, making several heads swivel around in surprise. Bobby didn’t even know we owned an accordion. I can’t play it very long, because it’s too heavy for my poor old arthritic shoulders. Anyway, we were right in the throes of a stentorian Joyful Noise, when I suddenly noticed: the music room window was open.
That’s the window closest to our neighbors. . .and their lights were off! And it was 11:00 p.m.
Fortunately, they are usually much louder than we are, and they seem to like us pretty well, so maybe they’ll forgive us.
We hastily closed the window before continuing our melodious racket. Somebody, however, seemed to be off tune. I stopped playing and applied my ear to discern the derivation of the discordant din. And guess who it was?
It was Victoria, crawling about at our feet, pushing buttons on Joseph’s electronic motorcycle.
Newspapers and radio have been buzzing about El Niño. It’s nothing new to us; Joseph creates an El Niño every evening, right here in the house, with his blistering hot showers. And yes, it changes the weather in the entire abode. Rain clouds, fog, and static electricity move in and descend. Temperate zones become tropical isles, complete with oppressing humidity and new mold growths.
And, just as El Niño causes drought in other places on earth, so do Joseph’s pyretical showers bring about a dearth of hot water for ensuing shower-takers.
However, there is one good thing that comes from all this: the other children, immediately upon finishing their supper, rush off to take their showers first, without any urging from me.
Tuesday afternoon and evening we first had freezing rain, then snow. It was so slick, Dorcas and Keith both wound up flatter’n pancakes on the turf. Hester, having just slid down my mother’s steep, icy driveway, came to an abrupt halt at the end of the ice. Bother with people who scoop and salt sidewalks!
Snow and high winds were predicted for Wednesday, so school was canceled. As it turned out, the day was fine; but the roads were still awfully slippery, so it was just as well we called off school, since several of our students live some distance away, several in the country. And it was a welcome break, after all.
Hannah spent the afternoon baking and crocheting; Teddy and Joseph spent part of the afternoon riding on a toboggan behind the four-wheeler, which Larry was driving. I spent the afternoon and evening writing out checks, sticking them in envelopes, sealing envelopes, putting stamps on envelopes, and addressing envelopes.
And practicing my subtraction in the checkbook.
That day some new books by Janette Oke arrived in the mail; so, rather than sew that night, as I should’ve, I read. And read. And read. Just before Larry’s alarm went off, I hastily turned off the light and pretended to be asleep, so he wouldn’t know I’d stayed up all night reading again; if he did, then the next time I wanted to stay up reading ‘for just a little while’ (that’s what I always say, of course), he’d try to take the book away from me, and we’d wind up having a first-rate brawl. I usually win, because Larry doesn’t want to hurt me, and I hang onto the book with all my might and main. (And he’s ticklish.) (But he might coax me into giving up the book; and then I’d be sadly unread.)
So, if he doesn’t know I’ve just recently stayed up all night reading, perhaps he’ll still believe me when I say I’ll turn out the light ‘in just a minute or two!’
When we lived in our mobile home, our first place of abode, the switch box was in our bedroom. So, when I was staying in the kitchen sewing, and Larry wanted me to come to bed, he’d just throw the main breaker, and put me right out of business, wham. I’d go storming back to the bedroom to demand that the electricity be restored, posthaste, and invariably get tackled and hauled straight to bed.
So, if I wanted to stay up and sew, I learned to go to bed first, wait until Larry was sleeping soundly, and then creep back out to the kitchen.
Keith bought a brand-new snowplow for the front of his pickup. It’s three or four years old, but has never been used. A new one is $2,800; he got it for $1,500. Larry helped him put it on and hook up all the wiring on it and the flashing yellow light for the top of the cab. Now Keith is hoping for a big snow, so he can make some extra money.
This week I made Hester a skirt, and cut out a skirt for Dorcas and dresses for Hannah and Victoria and Hester. Lydia likes to bring all her dolls into my room when I’m sewing, arrange them on the bed, and sit amongst them, changing them, feeding them, and talking to me. She’s an enjoyable little dear to have around, prone to giving sudden, unexpected hugs.
Victoria now says “high chair” each time I’m putting her in it to feed her. Or is it “Hi, chair!” I wonder. Perhaps she thinks we’ve taught her to greet the chair?
Monday we ordered a prescription of Imitrex, medicine for migraines, for Joseph. Hannah went to get it for me, and I sent along a signed check. Nine pills come in the box.
It cost $109.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Help! I had no idea they cost so much! I called the pharmacist to find out if they’d made a mistake; no such luck. The patent on this medicine has not yet expired, so no generic form may be produced yet; and there is no other comparable medication, so there is no competition. Also, the store (Walgreens) has a policy against refunding returned prescriptions without a valid reason (‘I can’t afford it’ isn’t a valid reason?), because they must discard of all returned medicines and absorb the cost themselves. The pharmacist told me I could talk to the manager the following day, and he might let me return it (he probably would, too; he’s really nice to us); but I decided not to.
Perhaps it’s a good thing we kept them, because today Joseph had another migraine headache, quite a bad one. He turns white as a sheet, and gets sick to his stomach. He took a pill (a $12.11 pill)--and got over the headache.
Yes, I guess I like my little boy enough to let him have Imitrex. If I have the money, he can have the Imitrex!
Thursday Hannah, Dorcas, and I cleaned out the hall closet, which had a bad case of clozzicreep. (That’s when you close one folding door, and everything creeps right out the other one, folding the door back as it comes.) And guess what I found!--my nice black jersey cardigan which my sister gave me for my birthday several years ago, and which I only wore once before it disappeared off the face of the earth. We put several bags of ugly and unusable things in bags which Keith hauled up to the attic to await somebody’s garage sale next summer, when we’ll hope to gain profit off of somebody who fancies ugly, unusable things.
I found quite a pile of coats and jackets that needed to be mended; I finished that mending the following day, and several of the kids were delighted to find a ‘new’ coat just their size.
Thursday after Junior Choir, we went to Wal-Mart’s Shoe Center, where we got some boots for Lydia and me, and school shoes for Teddy. The hand-me-downs Lydia had been wearing were all cracked and crinkly, as mine were, too. I declare, we might as well have worn nothing but socks, so waterproof were our boots! Lydia’s are purple, fuchsia, and teal; nice, soft rubber with furry lining. Mine are black Sorels, handmade in Canada, with a removable lining, and black fur around the top and down the front. These are by far the warmest boots I’ve ever had, and now I badly need to go hiking in the snow, I do I do I do!
We now have yet another newborn cousin (a third or fourth cousin, I think) named Hannah. Furthermore, the two recent Hannah’s are second cousins to each other. My mother wanted to send the four new babies bibs and silverware, so when we were at Wal-Mart, I got the bibs for her.
Now, if you’ll recall, she’s been eating baby food recently on account of her teeth bothering her; that same night, we got her several jars of baby food.
And then, evidently not knowing who the bibs were for, Caleb said, said he, “Does Grandma need baby bibs to eat her baby food?”
Thursday night for supper I broiled some ocean perch we got from the Schwan man. The house still reeked of fish, the next afternoon. So Dorcas cored a couple dozen apples, filled the holes with butter and brown sugar, and baked them. Mmmmmmm… Essence of Fish, all gone.
Saturday afternoon, everybody but Hannah, Dorcas, Victoria, and me went tobogganing, being pulled by the four-wheeler in fields near Larry’s shop. Hannah didn’t go sledding, because she was executing a vitally essential article: crocheting a bookmark for Bobby with his name cross-stitched in bright embroidery floss. Dorcas was crocheting a doll dress--another one for a friend who is paying her to make them for her granddaughters; I was cutting out Easter clothes; and Victoria was napping.
Last night Larry and I found, at a nearby truck stop, a little teal model Suburban, 1:24 to scale, with opening doors and back hatch. We’ll save it for Joseph’s birthday--if we can wait that long. It really does look a lot like ours.
Victoria was eleven months old yesterday. Goodness! That’s hard to believe. The older I get, the more time flies. She's learning to crawl--an entirely absorbing venture.
