Thursday, November 24, 1994...Spring Cleaning in November

We’ve had spring cleaning in the fall this week. One of the little girls got so exuberant with their new water colors, they splatted the antique satin drapes in the living room. Oh, well; they had about a century’s-worth layer of dust on them. So, down came the whole works: big front windows, fireplace windows, and music room windows. And off I went to the cleaners.

When I arrived, I hopped out, grabbed half of them (which is all I could hold), dashed in, and plopped them on the counter.

“I’ll be right back,” I said brightly, “as soon as I get the rest!”

I rushed back out, snatched the last big pile, and trotted back in. I noticed the lady who does the deliveries, who is the daughter of the people who do the cleaning, looking at her mother, shaking her head in dismay. She turned slowly to stare at me, tripping right along with the second three-foot stack of draperies.

“When do you want these?” she asked slowly.

I shrugged. “Oh, sometime before Christmas, please,” I said.

Boy, you should’ve seen father, mother, and daughter brighten up. “Whew!” sighed the daughter; “We thought you wanted them before Thanksgiving!” (It was Monday, three days before Thanksgiving, and they were swamped with clothes to clean.)

I came home and pulled the lace sheers down next, leaving the front ones up to give us a little privacy. When the first load came out of the dryer, I got the front ones down. Hannah went off to put them in the wash machine, while I began putting the clean ones up at the front window.
That’s when I discovered I had three clean ones and one dusty one--meaning Hannah had gone off with three dusty ones and one clean one. So we spent the remainder of the evening on public display, until the sheers were finally dry.

I finished Hester’s poinsettia dress, and then made her a gold-sequined, burgundy velvet-lined drawstring purse, like Lydia’s. I got them both the most adorable little gold shoes with big gold bows on the toes, and gold metallic lamé bow barrettes. They are terribly excited. (The girls; not the barrettes.)

I got Larry an ulu (ōō΄lōō) for Christmas. I ordered it from a little Inuviat village in Alaska; it’s a knife shaped like this: Ϡ (well, sorta)

The handle is made from bone, and on it is carved two husky pups which look remarkably like Aleutia did when she was a pup.

Keith has about six penpals in the Philippines, and they are all girls. It seems that about three of them are having feuds over him. They all try to outdo each other in gushiness (“Everdearest Keith:”) and in badmouthing their ‘friends’. Keith thinks it’s all a grand lark, and tries to make sure he sends the same number of pictures, pages, etc., to each girl. He wrote to Wilma: “I do not wish to be the cause of trouble between you and your friends. I hope you will all be kind to each other.”

We soon received a letter from Lorgenia: “My friend Wilma show me your letter. She say you advise ‘Be kind each to other.’ Why? Did you tell her what I write you?”

“Oh, help,” muttered Keith.

I think we'll let the penpal stuff peter out.

I like hats. But they’ve been rather hard to come by for a few years in our vicinity. So, imagine my delight when I happened upon a whole raft of ’em at Wal-Mart--in the little girls’ section! I snatched up eight of them and fled for the checkout stand, chortling with glee all the way.

Shoppers stared at me strangely and gave me a wide berth. Wheeeee! I was as happy as the mad hatter. Little girls’ hats usually fit Hannah, Dorcas, and me just fine... that’s the advantage of being a pinhead.

Hannah served tables at our Thanksgiving dinner at church today, successfully avoiding the enacting of her worst dream--tripping suddenly, and putting a big bowl of mashed potatoes upside down right smack-dab on somebody’s poor unsuspecting pate.

When we took down the curtains, we discovered our windows were terribly dirty. So Keith washed them all, one balmy afternoon. He’s a very useful person to have around these days: he reaches things I can’t; he opens jars I can’t; he moves furniture I can’t; in short, he appears to be taking right after his father.

Larry once carried a pickup box to his car trailer and set it down all by himself, after the two men on the other side tripped and fell flat, and Larry hung on because he didn’t want his new box damaged. Both men have been excessively polite ever since.