Monday, April 03, 2000 - The Week of Tonsillitis

We have had--and are still having--quite a siege with tonsillitis this week.  First Victoria, then Caleb, and now Joseph and Hester.  Victoria’s temperature was 99.8° Tuesday morning--much better than the 104.6° it had once been; but it gradually rose all day, until that night it was 101.2°.  Her throat and head hurt her worse Tuesday than it did Monday.  But, in spite of that, she was on the mend, and we were thankful.

Besides doling out medication, the week was mostly spent in sewing, with a bit of bookwork and filing thrown in for good measure.

Dorcas helped Sandy, our organist, and several of her friends, set things up for a garage sale at the home of some friends of ours; the proceeds of which will go toward our school annual--in color.  We did not contribute to the items for sale, because we are hoping to have our own garage sale in the summer.  However, we did contribute to the proceeds, for Hannah and Dorcas brought home numerous sacks and boxes full of all sorts of discovered treasures.  One item Dorcas got was a bow-making machine.  This piece of equipment has a handled crank on one side, and a spindle for ten-inch spools of ribbon.  The ribbon is threaded through multiple thingamajiggers, and then, after affixing the end of the ribbon to a dealywhizzer with a pointed-end twiddlebobber for stabbing through packages, the crank is turned.  With each rotation, another loop is made on the bow.  

After bringing the contraption home, Dorcas made a large box full of bows.  She then went off to other pursuits, leaving the apparatus in the living room.

Along came Joseph.

Joseph is not a person who can pass by such an out-of-the-ordinary device without trying it out.  He threaded the ribbon through its intricate system…  and began cranking.  But he did not turn that handle nice and easy like his sister had; no, far from it.  Rather, he got a good grip on it, and rotated it with all his might and main.

Ribbon flew.  And, quicker than you can ever imagine, a bow came shooting out of the machine.  Joseph held it up for inspection.  It was the saddest, most lopsided bow you ever did see.  Joseph pulled a droll face.  The younger siblings, already giggling, burst into peals of laughter.

After helping with the garage sale Friday, Dorcas went to help Esther reupholster her new chairs--chairs Lawrence and Norma got, along with a table, at a garage sale.  They were needing new ones, because their dog had gobbled down the inner rungs on almost every chair, and they not only looked bad, but there was also some question as to whether or not the pieces of furniture would continue holding up their patrons.

For supper one evening, we had stuffed nachos, covered with liberal helpings of sour cream and picante sauce.  Mmmm, yum!  Afterwards, the kids were watching a video about Wyoming.  Most of it was of the National and State Parks and Forests, but there was one rodeo scene with broncos and bulls bucking and twisting like everything, cowboys biting the dust...  And Caleb, looking on aghast, said quietly, but with a good deal of conviction, “They aren’t trained well enough!  Or something.”

Wednesday afternoon, it was obvious that Caleb was getting the same thing Victoria had ‑‑tonsillitis.  Thursday, just before Jr. Choir, his temperature got up to 104.2°.  I hurriedly gave him a cool bath, which brought it down a couple of degrees.  The doctor prescribed the same medicine for him as he had for Victoria.  He was well enough to go to church last night, and he went to school today.  Hester did not, however; I think she is getting the awful stuff, too.

Saturday night Joseph was sick.  His throat hurt, his ears hurt, and his head hurt.  He took his temperature:  it was 103.2°.  So he is on an antibiotic, too.  He did manage to go to school this afternoon.  Good grief!  I will certainly be glad when summertime comes; we have had a lot more sickness this winter than I ever remember.

When I was about half done with the third bridesmaid’s dress, we realized that Hannah really did need an ivory satin skirt for Easter, after all, to go with an ivory silk and lace jacket she’d bought.  So Wednesday while everyone else went to church, except for the sick child I was staying with, I stopped with the purple taffeta and got on with the ivory satin.  Luckily, circle skirts don’t take long.  By bedtime, it was done.

One night there was a small scuffle of a noise in the kitchen.  The cat, who’d been sleeping, suddenly awoke, eyes growing large.  Her ears stood up straight...and then...in one-half of a shake of a dead sheep’s tail, she was skidding madly into the kitchen, tail all bushied.  

The dog, who’d been calmly lying asleep under the table, awoke with a dreadful start, utterly convinced a puma was on the loose.  She scrambled to her feet and fled for dear life, sliding and slipping all over the floor in her haste to get out of the line of traffic. 

The cat raced on. 

And then... And then. 

Suddenly, there was a terrible “Squeeeeeek!!!  EeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeKKKKK!!!!”

Gulp.

End of story.

Well, not quite...  the cat then came strolling back into the living room and remarked to Dorcas, “PPuuuuurrrrrrrmrrrrroow.”  (As near as I could tell, that’s how she spelt it.)

By the first of last week, the kittens did NOT appreciate their box any longer.  If they heard the slightest sound out in the Big World Beyond the Box (BWBB), they cried and squalled at the tops of their voices, until we either let them out, or until their mother arrived to feed them.  And now, we have discarded of the box entirely, since they don’t use it anymore.  They prefer to cuddle up together all around the rollers of my desk chair.  Even now, I am perched peculiarly whoppyjaw in front of my computer, so as not to run over Cat and Caboodle.  Every now and then, one of the kittens awakens and comes to climb my socks, mewing for me to pick him or her up.  I once wound up with all three kittens on my lap, the keyboard slide-out pulled over the top of them.  My sleeve kept drifting over the top of one’s head, eliciting loud purrs from him.

When they are all scampering around, Aleutia positions herself in the doorway of the kitchen and watches with great interest, ears straight up. She looks entirely too wolfish to suit me, so I march around the corner suddenly and say, “What are you doing!”--whereupon she ducks her head and sheepishly trundles back to her position under the table.  I DO hope we can get these kittens to a giveawayable age (if that wasn’t a word, it should've been) before the dog eats them!

Our friend Carey Gene helped Bobby and Hannah finish putting in their cupboards Friday night.  The only thing left to do, I think, is to put on the handles.  All around their front porch, colorful hyacinths are blooming.  Just two more months till the Big Day!

          Once upon a time Hester, age one, was trying to tell me something.  Try as I might, I could not understand what she was saying.  I asked her to repeat herself several times, and she complied.

Finally, I said, “I don’t know what you’re saying!” 

She tipped her head and said sadly, “I don’t, eezer.” 

           Back to the purple taffeta!