A short time ago, I was hunting for my coffee mug, as I am oft wont to do. I try not to let anyone notice what I’m doing, because all I have to do is ask, “Where’s my mug?” and someone is sure to immediately and helpfully inform me, “It’s on the front of your head!”
Deciding to be a Helpful Hattie myself, and fill Larry’s mug for him, I asked him, “Where’s your mug?”
“Right here,” he replied, his words coming out all mottled on account of the awful, crumpled distortion of his face.
As soon as Larry was done working at Quail Run Monday afternoon, a little after 3:00 p.m., he, Teddy, and Joseph headed for Iowa City, Iowa, there to meet somebody for the Williamses of Indiana, taking them a pickup box they had been needing. (You remember, we went to Indiana to take them a 15-passenger van last January?) They finally got home at 2:30 a.m. Tuesday morning. Teddy went, even though he would miss practice that night, to help Larry drive.
Larry overslept the next morning, getting to work over an hour late. Trying to work two full-time jobs doesn’t always pan out quite properly! Fortunately, they didn’t string him up by the toenails, or anything like that; he was able to make up the lost hour at the end of the day.
Since there was nobody left to babysit the littles, I had to take them to band and orchestra practice with me. Would you like to know what the highlight of the evening was, for those same littles?
Well, you see, as I told you, they had to come with me to church when we practiced, because there was nobody home to babysit for them... so there they sat, Hester, Lydia, Caleb, and Victoria, in a pew side by side, for two whole hours, playing with books and dolls and matchbox cars, being quiet and orderly the entire time.... and Victoria had to go to the rest room approximately 32 gazillion times, give or take a few.... with Hester and Lydia taking turns taking her there…. and the highlight was....
…the Highlight was…
…it was…
…just this:
Victoria dropped her doll in the commode.
Luckily, as Victoria assured me, "It was okay, though, because it (meaning, the commode) was already really cleaned, because Lydia had already really kaflushed it."
Even after Lydia came back into the sanctuary with Victoria, she kept getting all tickled over the sequence of events, and winding up all hunched over in the pew, one hand clamped over her mouth, shoulders shaking.
Otherwise, things went swimmingly.
After we got home, Dorcas ran that doll under the hot water faucet for a while, just in case. And Victoria, looking on in a bit of dismay, commented in her low-pitched voice, "Oh, mercy. Now she's REALLY drownded."
When the band is playing, if something goes wrong and I stop playing, it doesn’t faze them in the slightest…they keep right on playing--because they can’t hear the piano stop. Penny said she needed a whistle in order to stop them; I offered her her train whistle in the piano bench (kept in there for the Jr. Choir, especially for the train songs in our book). I tried it before I handed it to her…it made one very small, airy “pheep”, and I said, “That’ll never do!”
Penny differed. “Yes, it will,” so I tried again… I got my lips positioned just right, blew with all my might and main… “PHEEEP!” it said.
“Yike!” I replied, mostly for the benefit of the children, handing the thing to Penny, fast. The kids all burst out laughing.
Hannah took a Christmas present to our neighbors the Foremans one afternoon--pictures she had taken of their dogs, and framed. Trey, Mary’s three-year-old grandson, was in the living room; and Mandy, their golden lab, was in the recliner/swivel rocker…and Trey was spinning her around with all his might and main, while Mandy’s poor head swayed dizzily. Trey, hearing Hannah’s knock, yelled, “HEY!” at the top of his lungs (which seems to be the only speaking volume he possesses). The rocker slowed its wild rotations. Mandy, recognizing her opportunity to gain freedom, sprang out.
“HEY!!” Trey yelled the louder.
Boy and dog both beat a path to the door. Trey managed to get the main door open, but then Mandy, seeing Hannah, whom she especially likes, shoved her way in front of Trey and proceeded to hop boisterously up and down at the window, foiling the child’s attempt to open the storm door. He finally gave up, stood back, and bellowed, “Come IN!”
Hannah went in. Mary sat on the couch, thumping her new granddaughter, Macy, vigorously on the back. The new granddaughter’s small face registered surprise at each thwacking thump. Hannah showed Mary the pictures, then set them down on a little table near the door. Trey picked one up, trotted across the room, and held it right under Mandy’s nose: “Look, Mandy!” he shouted, “This is you!”
He turned back around and grinned at Hannah. “She really likes herself.”
Hannah laughed, so Trey laughed, too.
When Hannah was leaving, he said, “What’s your name?” (a question he asks every time he meets her).
“Hannah,” she answered.
He grinned at her. “Hi, Hannah.”
And that was the end of the visit.
Here are a couple more observations on cleaning:
a) Do not spray cleaner directly into a vent that is blowing forcefully; it will blow right back into your face.
b) When you spray mildew remover onto the ceiling directly overhead, it will come cascading back down onto your own head.
Hannah was learning the latter in the little bathroom at the same time I was learning the former in the big bathroom. I sprayed the vent.
“Yarrrrp!” I yelped, leaping to my feet.
Hannah, meanwhile, was spraying the ceiling in the other bathroom.
“Yelllp!” she yarped, dashing out of the room.
We met in the hallway, swiping vigorously at our faces.
c) There is no sense in scrubbing out the microwave if you are planning on shortly warming up a slice of honey-cured ham in same, particularly if you don’t plan to cover it while it is warming.
One afternoon, Hannah was cleaning out the refrigerator, when along came Caleb. He stared in amazement at all the things she had placed on the table.
“What are you doing!” he asked.
“I’m getting all of our science experiments out of the refrigerator,” she replied.
Just then Victoria came dashing out of the bathroom. “The toilet is about to unflow!!” she cried.
We asked no questions; we just ran for the plunger.
Speaking of science experiments: once upon a time, Dorcas left a snack in her school desk for several decades, and one day when she arrived at school, an entire ant colony had moved in. They had to call in an exterminator--a volunteer ‘janitor’--to eradicate the critters. Dorcas was the laughing stock for days, after that fiasco.
One night Teddy was regaling us with a tale about riding the Kawasaki motorcross KX80 dirtbike behind Larry, who was on the 125 Kawasaki. They approached a large hump in the trail. Larry went over it first. Teddy, thinking it had appeared that Larry really had to pull back to get his motorcycle to pop a small wheelie, gunned his bike and pulled back hard----and wound up shooting straight up into the stratosphere, first hanging from the handlebars with his toes barely dragging the turf, and then, when finally the back wheel returned to earth, racing madly along behind the wheelying bike, still gripping the handlebars, his hair finding it impossible to stand up on end as it preferred, since it was winging back in the breeze so violently. I tell you, his descriptions left us laughing until the tears ran down our faces.
Just like last year, the week before Christmas saw our friends arriving by the droves, bearing boxes, baskets, and tins of food by the ton, I think. Some friends brought a huge basket of fruit and nut breads, three others brought large hams, and one of Larry’s cousins gave us a variety of chips, fresh vegetables, and dip of all sorts. And, of course, there was a vast array of cookies and candies.
Tuesday night we had our last Christmas Program practice, and Wednesday evening we practiced one more time with the band and orchestra. It seems like a very few practice sessions for such a long and detailed program! But, somehow, some way, things usually turn out okay.
Wednesday morning I was feeding Victoria her breakfast. The kitchen was hot, so I rolled open the window a little bit…and there was Kitty on the brick ledge, “Mrrowing” at the window, wanting us to let her in. Hannah went to the front door.
“Mrrrrrrrrrr,” said Kitty, rushing in. We thought she was just purr/meowing, as she does when she is delighted with life in general, and us, her people, in particular--and then Hester realized: “There’s a mouse in her mouth!”
Kitty placed it proudly on the living room rug and had a go at playing with it. But life had been a bit too difficult for Mouse in the past few minutes, and he was in no form to play. Even terror was a thing of the past. Hester rushed for a paper towel, the better not to touch the awful thing, snatched it up, and hurried to dispose of it. Kitty, not having seen where her mouse disappeared to, conducted a search delegation.
“Mrrooww!” she informed me indignantly.
“That mouse was icky,” I informed her firmly.
She stalked off in high dudgeon, tail switching in annoyed vexation.
I went to the school Thursday morning, and printed out the programs. We print them on high-quality paper with pretty pictures on the front. The trouble is, the paper is too thick to go nicely through the copier, so I have to stand there beside the printer and hand-feed it, all 100 copies. I printed 25 on plain white paper, just in case--and it was a jolly good thing I did, for there were many visitors. There were barely enough programs to go around, one to a family. Next year, I imagine a double order is in order.
Shortly before time to go, I realized three critical things had not been done:
1. Caleb’s britches had not been ‘unhemmed’ (as he says)--and they were an inch and a half too short.
2. Hester’s big red bow needed a hair clip sewn onto the back of it.
3. Victoria’s headband still needed the marabou feathers sewn onto it.
Aarrgghh! Hannah and I swiftly got busy with needle and thread; she did the marabou feathers, and I did the britches and the red bow. And we managed to get to church on time. Barely.
When the program was over, an hour and a half later, there was the usual scurry of all the young people passing out the multitudes and heaps of presents. And, as always, my favorite gifts were all the pictures we received. I do so love pictures--especially pictures of the children!
We stayed up so long that night, and slept so late the next morning, that we were all running around like chickens with our heads cut off the next morning, trying to get to church by 12:30 p.m. for the song service, and the dinner at 1:00. After dinner, I took a near record number of pictures, I think. The dinner was scrumptious. There was turkey, potatoes and gravy, dressing, corn, all sorts of jello salad--mandarin, cranberry--dinner rolls with strawberry jelly, cherry cheesecake, and pecan pie.
When the dinner was over, we came home again to clean the house in anticipation of our Jackson/Jenkinson/Fricke/Wright/Haddock gathering that evening. This is a collection of friend and/or relative, and, no matter which category they fall into, we enjoy them immensely. Our eight-foot-long couch was piled four feet high with clothes that needed to be put away, the floors needed to be swept, dishes needed to be washed, counters cleaned off and dusted, toys put away… I changed into a black knit dress, then dusted and swept--and wound up looking like I’d used the dress for the dust cloth.
When Kenny and Annette arrived, I told Rachel and Olivia, ages 8 and 4, “We couldn’t find the dust pan, and after I rolled around on the floor to collect all the dirt, I went out into the garage and jumped up and down as hard as I could, but all this dust and lint just wouldn’t come off!”
“Hee hee hee!” they replied.
Lawrence and Norma, Kenny and Annette and their seven children, Barbara and her three children, Carey Gene and Martha and their six children, Keith and Esther, Bobby and Hannah, and Linda Wright came. 37 people in all, counting our own family. The Walkers--my sister’s families--along with Loren and Janice, my brother and sister-in-law--all gathered at Susan and Charles’ (my niece and her husband) at 5:30. We didn’t go, because we had entirely too much to do; but Keith and Esther, and Bobby and Hannah went for a little while. So that was the first time in my life I’ve missed the ‘Swiney’ gathering…but it’s getting to be more of a ‘Walker’ gathering than ‘Swiney’, anyway. And eventually, as our own children grow older and have families of their own, other gatherings will have to go by the wayside, unless we don’t mind scheduling Christmas get-togethers well into June.
Lawrence and Norma gave many of us keepsakes and mementos--wonderful gifts. They gave me a large clock cut from a piece of wood, smooth and glossy, that used to hang on the wall at Jackson’s house on 15th Street. Norma had remembered, from all those years ago, how I had often admired that clock.
Barbara, Lawrence’s daughter, gave me a couple of hummingbird figurines. Maybe, someday, people will give me enough of those to replace the ones the children broke once upon a time, when they knocked a shelf off the wall in my room while they were vacuuming. Linda Wright, Bobby’s aunt, who’s been a good friend of mine since before I can even remember, gave me a lighted seam ripper and needle threader. Is that a sign of old age, or what? Friends and relatives gave us so many nice things. And our house is definitely shrinking.
Before Christmas, Victoria found an old rickety metal ironing board downstairs that used to be Hannah’s. We had a couple of little irons, but they were nowhere to be found, so she used a small wooden block, about 4”x6”, and spent a good deal of time happily ‘ironing’ away. So, for Christmas, we gave her a sturdy plastic ironing board, complete with light-up iron, bottle of ‘spray’, hangers, and clothespins. I think it is just about her favorite present--unless the little grocery store, complete with a ‘scanner’ and conveyor belt--given to the little girls by Keith and Esther--would hold that honor.
Teddy, as he was helping pass out the presents, was entertaining the littles by saying, as he handed a package to somebody, “Here’s your book,” (and it was) or “Here’s a cassette for you,” (and it was) or “Were you needing a pair of socks?--here’s some,” (and it was) or “Here’s a new shirt,” (and it was) or “Want a new tie?--here you go,” (and it was)…until finally the littles were howling, “Teddy! Could you not tell me what all my presents are?! You’re spoiling the surprise!!”--but they were all laughing, in spite of themselves. And Teddy was laughing, too; pleased he was so often right.
Keith gave Teddy a pair of neoprene gloves. Teddy, trying them on, remarked, “The only trouble with these gloves is that the wind blows right through them.”
And Keith replied sensibly, “That doesn’t matter, if your hands are warm.”
Teddy raised his eyebrows, and Hannah snickered. Teddy walked around the table, behind his sister--and got the velcro on the wrist buckle of the gloves stuck to the elbow of her sweater.
He came to a stop, arm outstretched. He made a horrified face. “Oh, no!” he wailed, “Now what will I do if I have to return them?! They don’t take girls back with them!”
Mama didn’t feel well enough for us to go to her house Saturday and exchange presents, so we are planning to go tomorrow. Just trying to get ready for Christmas wore her all out. So instead of visiting her, we spent Saturday afternoon delivering gifts to the Walker families. When we took my brother-in-law and sister John and Lura Kay’s presents to them, they invited us in. Lura Kay gave me another David Martyn Lloyd-Jones book. Have you ever heard of him? According to the blurb on the dust jacket of his books: “He was a Welshman (1900-81) who left a promising and lucrative career as a physician on Lord Horder’s (physician to the royal family) staff to become a preacher. He spent almost a dozen years doing pioneer missionary work among miners and dock workers in South Wales. In 1938 G. Campbell Morgan tapped him for service as associate minister at Westminster Chapel. He became sole minister there in 1943. Lloyd-Jones excelled at expository preaching. So finely honed were his skills that often he kept his audiences spellbound for almost an hour while they sat on some of the most uncomfortable seats in London. Lloyd-Jones retired from Westminster in 1968 and devoted his last years to an extensive writing ministry. Before his death, he was able to complete the eight-volume set of expositions on Ephesians.”
Remember the book Dorcas gave me for my birthday--the one she just had to give me early; she couldn’t wait? That was my first Lloyd-Jones book. And now I have four; another friend gave me two others.
Leaving John and Lura Kay’s house, we proceeded on to Kelvin’s, David’s, Robert’s, Susan’s (my sister’s four children), and Loren and Janice’s houses; and then to Kenny’s to give Annette a present we’d forgotten to give her the night before. Nathan was outside playing with his new remote-controlled motorcycle...and you’d better believe, that brought his Uncle Larry and cousins Teddy and Joseph straight out of their Suburban, posthaste. After they each had a turn trying their dead level best to kill the rider, we took our leave.
It was a warm, sunny day, all day long…nice for playing outside with one’s new Christmas toys, but not very Christmasy, really. We spent the remainder of the day shuffling and wading through boxes and wrapping paper, jetsam and flotsam, periodically sitting down amidst the mess to pore over a new toy or book or gadget or tool or clothing item.
Last night I sang Light In The Stable. And that will be the last of the Christmas songs, until next year. Leaving Christmas behind always gives me a curious combination of relief and sadness, both at the same time. I have always loved Christmas time.
I arrived home from church with Victoria before anyone else. She eagerly awaited the arrival of the rest of the family, and just as soon as she saw Hester coming across the street, she flung open the door and cried joyfully, “Here you go!”
That is what she says the minute she sees someone she knows and likes, coming in the direction of our house. They could be halfway down the block and she calls to them, "Here you go!" and then holds the door open for them until they come into the house, regardless of whether the warm house is getting cold, or whether the cool house is getting hot.
Yesterday Victoria was looking in the cupboards for something to eat. She came up with a can of tomato juice. “I want some of this!” she informed Larry.
He, knowing she didn’t particularly care for the stuff, said, “That’s tomato juice. Are you sure you want some?”
“Yes,” she responded eagerly, holding the can out to him. “It’s really yummy!”
So he shook it good and proper, opened it, poured some in a glass, and gave it to her. She took a small sip. Her face puckered up. She set the glass down quickly on the table.
“It’s really yummy!” she said, looking around frantically. “I need a drink of water!”
Later, she was eating some butter cookies somebody had given us. She came trotting out to the living room to see me--her face totally covered with crumbs and sparkly sugar. I told her, “You look like a glittery Christmas card!”
“Oh!” she responded, smiling sweetly. “Isn’t that pretty?!”
Larry gave her a small piece of chocolate, which somehow got itself smeared all over her face. I feel quite sure that, if the chocolate on her face was gathered back up and formed into a piece of chocolate again, the piece would be bigger than it originally was. I showed Victoria her chocolaty face in my mirror. As soon as she was done laughing and trying to swipe it all off with her tongue, I helped her wash her face.
One of the presents Lawrence and Norma gave Lydia and Victoria was a rag doll, each with its own quilt, one for each girl, that Norma sewed. It was a replica of the ‘Charlotte’ doll that Laura Ingalls Wilder got one Christmas so long ago. Victoria’s was made of the same material that her Thanksgiving dress had been made of, so last night she wore the dress to church and carried the doll with her, tickled pink that she and her doll matched. When we arrived home, she asked, “Would you like to take me a picture? Because I look so awful, awful cute!”
I took her a picture. It was awful, awful cute.
Guess what?! Larry found a fiddle at the pawn shop, a brand spanking-new fiddle in a beautiful case. The set was worth $400--and the price tag was $100. He bought it, and we gave it to Dorcas for Christmas. Her old violin had strange overtones on a couple of strings, and made bizarre snoring noises every now and then, just to bamboozle the player. A fiddle looks almost exactly like a violin, except it is a little bit longer, and the bridge is not so curved, so the strings are closer together. This means that you can more easily bump other strings, making dreadful noises. But it also means that you can play two, or even three, strings at the same time, should you happen to be so inclined...or so talented.
We gave Hester a fife, and Lydia a tin whistle, so there are tunes of all sorts going on at all times all over the place.
Dorcas just went to Walgreens and Wal-Mart and nearly bought both stores out of Wal-Paper. I mean, Wrapping-Paper. Several li'l old ladies were chasing her, shaking their canes angrily, because they wanted some, too, but she managed to outrun 'em all. Now, when I decide to wrap Christmas presents, sometime next July, I'll have plenty of paper--and it was only half price.
Hannah is looking for patterns for her bridesmaids' dresses today. She thinks she wants purple taffeta moiré. We will decide on a pattern tonight, I think, and tomorrow she will order the fabric. Excitinger and excitinger!
The children are taking the ornaments off the tree, and we will soon haul it away. The poor thing is no longer a fir; it is a weeping willow. We will have a mammoth sweeping job to do, after dragging this tree through the house to the front door. It is so nearly expired, it won't even draw water any more; it has entirely lost its ability to swallow.
Larry and I just finished eating a couple of burnt sourdough muffin halves, and we were in the middle of a discussion to determine whose fault it was that the hapless things got burnt, when I interrupted the debate with, "Could you take the tree out?" which made everybody laugh at me, because it didn't have anything to do with the silly muffin, at all.
Did you have a good Christmas time? We hope you have a Happy New Year!
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