Monday, July 19, 1999 - Mulberries, Bing Cherries, Apples, Blueberries, Raspberries -- and Food Cars

            My mother hasn’t been very well this week, ever since she fell last Sunday morning.  Dorcas, Hannah, or Hes­ter stayed with Mama most of every day, and the older girls took turns staying overnight all week.  She’s in pain, but her painkillers make her sick to her stomach.  Her ribs really hurt her, and sometimes she has spasms in the mus­cles in her back.  She has much difficulty getting up or sit­ting down.

            One day the littles picked mulberries, so Hannah made muffins.  Wanting to use up all the mulberries, but not having enough ingredients for another batch [she made two and a half dozen], she just put all the extra mulberries into the batter.  Mmmmm!  They were soooo good.

            Monday night, Larry helped Hannah make Bobby a strange, funny car out of all sorts of food.  She enlisted his aid because, she told him, he was quite ex­pe­rienced at building cars, already.  There was a cantaloupe for the front part of the body, an eggplant for the back part of the body, the tires were coconut and grapefruit halves, the headlights were mushrooms, green beans were fastened onto the front for front bumpers, canned sardines represented the gas tank, and the tab was bent backwards to resemble a hitch, a little bottle of ‘Gravy Master’ was stuck into the cantaloupe for the windshield, a dozen baby onions were the side chrome and tail fins, there were cherries for tail lights, a Hershey bar for the seat, Mozzarella cheese for the back rest, the front fenders were sausages, while the back fenders were bananas and yellow and red peppers.

            Earlier in the afternoon, the littles had gone with Hannah to the grocery store for all those ingredients.  In the fresh produce aisle, they were laughing over all the funny shapes of the yams.  Victoria picked up long, crooked, knobby one.

            “Oh!” she exclaimed in her piping voice, “Just look at this really funny one!  hee hee hee”

            A man behind them began laughing, which totally mortified her.  She hadn’t noticed him there, and if she had’ve, she probably wouldn’t have made a peep, since she’s a bit timid.

            “It’s time to go home,” she whispered urgently to Han­nah.

            I scanned a picture of the Food Car on our computer scanner, and then sent sev­eral copies of the car email to friends of ours, especially other body shop owners, telling them we were planning to sell to the highest bidder, and please send a bid, posthaste.

            I have now begun retyping my letters, making them into a real, hon­est-to-good-ness story.  The first chapter I did, although it will not be Chapter One, is entitled Canada Bound, 1994.  I think I’ll start on the preface tomorrow.

            Tuesday evening, which was Bobby’s birthday, Han­nah took The Car to Bobby, along with a new pair of binocu­lars and tapes of Daddy preaching.  We gave him a new lunch box, since the lid on his old one wouldn’t stay shut any more, and lunches aren’t too so very good with dust infiltrating every bite.

            Guess what... Bobby saved the Hershey bar -- for a rainy day(?) -- but, Wednesday for lunch, he devoured all 10 {or more}!!!! on­ions!  RAW.
 

            And guess what else?  That night we had church... meaning, Bobby and Hannah had a 'church date'. [Is that what you call them?] .... meaning, she had to sit beside him..... meaning, she had to partake of some of the same air he had just gotten done with!!
 

            AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...............
 

            {That was Hannah.}  {Well, at least, that’s what she was thinking.}
 

            Being a polite young lady, she waited until shortly before he left our house to ask him, "Er, what did you have for supper?"
 

            “Uhhh... chef salad!"  He cleared his throat.  "Why?"  He swiped guiltily at his mouth.  "Does my breath stink?"
 

            Hannah nodded solemnly.
 

            Finally, the truth came out:  he'd eaten ALL those on­ions.

            I, not knowing this, asked him if he'd eaten his car yet.
 

            "Well, most of it," replied Bobby.
 

            "I'll bet I can guess one of the things that are missing!" said I.  "The Her­shey bar!" I concluded triumphantly.
 

            Bobby shook his head.  "Actually, that's one of the things I still have left!"
 

            I stared.  "Bobby!" I exclaimed.  "I don't know if you're going to fit into this family, or NOT!"
 

            He laughed.

            Later, I allowed as how I could’ve been wrong about that, since, should he happen to not really want that Her­shey, I shouldn’t be half sad to take it off his hands.
 

            The people who own the house on 15th Street finally accepted Bobby’s offer.  So the real estate agent came to have Bobby sign the papers, since he was nineteen that day.  Also that day, Bethany (Bobby’s mother) found an ad in the paper where someone was selling a large table, eight chairs, a buffet, and a big china hutch.  Bobby and Hannah went to look at them.  They were made of wal­nut, and all were in excellent condition.  The people were selling them for $550, a very good price for all that; so Bobby and Hannah bought the furniture.

            When Larry comes home from work, Victoria invariably greets him:  “Hi, Daddy!  You clean?”  This, because she wants him to hold her--but not if he’s very dirty.....and men who work in body shops have a habit of getting them­selves extremely grubby by the end of the day.  {Joseph, who never moves in slow motion, can get twice as grimy as Larry, in about one quarter the time.}

            One afternoon Caleb was eating bing cherries.  He remarked to Hannah, “I cannot get myself very dirty when I’m eating these!”  He paused momentarily, then added, “Sometimes.”  What he didn’t know was that the front of his shirt sported a fascinating configuration of purple drops, right then as he spoke.

            Hannah, Lydia, Caleb, and Victoria like to go for walks with me every day.  Dorcas and Hester like to stay home and pick mulberries, or play with Mandy, the neighbor’s puppy, or just crochet and read.  Or race bikes madly up and down street.  Sometimes I wash my hair first, then go for a walk (hoping to meet no acquaintances), then come home and curl my hair, which has usually dried nicely in the sun and wind.

            Joseph stayed with Mama Wednesday evening during church, and then Dorcas stayed the night.  When Dorcas went, Hester, who’d been there since church was over, came home.  It was late.  Mama asked Dorcas to watch out the window to make sure Hester arrived home safely.  By the time Dorcas got to the window, she couldn’t see her, so she called home.  No Hester.  We made a hasty investigation of the house; no Hester.  I opened the front door, and there was a police car coming down the street.  My hair stood straight up on end.

            I pursed my lips just right to whistle an ear-splitting whistle--and then I realized that, if I did that, the patrolman, whose window was rolled down, might very well drive his car atop the church roof; so I impatiently waited until he’d rounded the corner and disappeared.  Then I whistled.

            “What?” answered Hester, from not so very far away.  She came trotting around the corner of the house, from where she’d been petting the neighbor boy’s puppy.

            Arrgghh!  Just what Mama needs--a heart attack over a ‘lost’ girl!

            Thursday, Hannah and I washed and pitted bing cherries; then Hannah made bing cherry bars while I went to Jr. Choir.  Lawrence and Norma came af­terwards with a gallon of vanilla ice cream, for it was our twentieth wedding anni­versary.  Tom and Rebecca Tucker brought us a card -- with twenty one-dollar bills inside.  Lawrence and Norma gave us a new comforter and sheet set, and Hannah gave us pillow shams with white crocheted tops (she didn’t have time to make them herself; they’re store-bought).  Hester and Lydia each gave us an oven mitt with a matching towel.  From Joseph we got a humungous bag of hard spearmints (yes, Joseph likes spearmints).

            Caleb and Victoria immediately had the time of their lives inside the big box in which the comforter came, especially when Hester and Lydia began scooting them around.  Into the living room they came, Caleb waving one direc­tion, Victoria another: “Hi, Grandpa!  Hi, Grandma!”  Back out of the living room they went, then, calling, “Goodbye, Grandpa!  Goodbye, Grandma!”

            Grandpa and Grandma were laughing.  Hester arranged a blanket over the top of the box, while Lydia tucked several stuffed animals in beside them.  The little girls then rushed off to get something else, leaving the Boxcar Children unattended.  And of course, as predicted earlier by their mother, they toppled over.

            This wouldn’t have been so bad, but in so doing, they banged their heads together.  Both were in tears.  Very quiet tears, you understand; but tears, just the same.  I rubbed each head soothingly, ordered the box vanquished to the garage, then remonstrated with the little girls for their neglectfulness.  A few minutes later, Caleb was heard explaining the misadventure to Hannah.

            “You see,” he began, ever so seriously, still rather pale around the cheeks, “We leaned over to get something, and the box started tipping, and then both our heads fell out at once and banged together!”

            That made for a few difficult minutes of sucking in the cheeks and biting the tongue.  Hannah gave him a hug, and looked twinkly-eyed at us over the top of his poor injured head.

            I’ve been wrapping Christmas presents this week.  I’ve filled up three big boxes with presents, and hardly seem to have made a dent on my list.

            Keith and Esther got a new stove and refrigerator, and Larry, Teddy, and Joseph helped move it in.  Friday night they invited us to come see their new furniture, including a love seat and chair Esther bought from a lady for $175.  Now there are enough chairs for us all.  The old stove wasn’t behaving well at all; when Esther was done baking, and turned it off, it would sometimes stay pip­ing hot, even getting so hot one couldn’t touch the outside of the oven door, until she unplugged it.  That’s getting downright dangerous, don’t you think?  And the old refrigerator, which had only one dial to adjust the temperature in the freezer and in the refrigerator both, had a penchant for freezing eggs and cracking them, whilst, at the same time, thawing the ice cream and letting it drip down through the pipes into the refrigerator.  So they are quite pleased with their new acquisitions.

            Lawrence and Norma were there when we arrived, and Bobby, Hannah, and Dorcas arrived shortly thereafter.  The puppy was delighted to see us again, and set about washing every kneecap within reach.  Esther collared him, and or­dered him to ‘sit and stay’.  He sat and stayed.

             Friday afternoon the girls, including Victoria, went to pick apples at an elderly friend’s house.  She gets around only with the aid of a wheelchair, and cannot take care of the apples, so she is pleased if someone can use them.  I sent along a poem, I Will Praise Him, as a token of our appreciation, since she won’t accept anything else as payment for the apples.

 

I Will Praise Thee

I praise Thee, O Lord, with all of my heart;

 From all Thy precepts I’ll never depart.

I’ll be glad and rejoice, and sing praise to Thy Name;

 Most High and Holy, Thou art ever the same.

All mine enemies shall perish and fall

 At Thy glorious presence, O blest Lord of All.

For Thou hast maintained my cause and my right;

 I trust, Lord, in Thee, in Thy power and might.

Thou destroyeth the wicked; their oppression shall cease;

 I’ll seek Thee, Lord, for then I’ll have peace.

Thou settest Thy glory far over the skies;

 Thou makest the sun in the morning to rise.

The moon and the stars Thou hast ordained;

 Yet Thou carest for me with love unfeigned!

Down from the willows my harp I will take;

 My mouth shall sing praises each morn when I wake!

            Victoria came home totally delighted with her bag of apples, which she’d gathered all by herself.  She thumped them down on the floor beside me, pulled several out to show me, dropped a few, and accidentally rolled a few across the floor.  Fearing for the health of the apples, I told the other girls that they had bet­ter put their apples into the refrigerator.

            Victoria’s eyes grew wide.  She didn’t want her apples put into the refrig­erator!--she wanted to be able to carry them around with her, in her little han­dled bag!  She leaned over, and, as quickly as she could, scooped all her apples back into the bag.  Then she stood up, looked at me, still wide-eyed, and said very softly, “Goodbye, Mama, I’m going into my room.”  Without waiting for an answer, she whirled around and fled down the hall to her room as fast as her feet could carry her, apples bumping against her legs as she ran.  Ah, well; how much harm can a dozen bruised apples do, after all?  I let the child play with her treas­ured apples.  And who will ever know, once they are baked into a scrumptious Apple Danish bar, that those apples were so battered and maltreated?

            Saturday, Hannah and Dorcas spent a long time peeling, coring, and slic­ing those apples.  They were so little, all that work yielded a mighty small vol­ume.  I didn’t help them; I knew better than to peel lots of apples on a Satur­day-- because I had to play the piano the next day.  Once or twice I haven’t been so smart, and wound up having a dreadful time playing, because my fingers were so stiff and sore.  Since there weren’t quite enough apples, I added frozen blue­berries and raspberries to it, and then made Dairy State Apple Pie.  MMmmmmm!  One of our very favorites.

            That evening, I cut Lydia’s soft, silky hair {regretfully, but at her wishes} (it’s her hair, after all) to shoulder-length.  It looks altogether cute, if you ask me.  [You did ask me, didn’t you?]  In the meantime, Larry cut Teddy and Jo­seph’s hair.  While I was cutting and curling hair, Victoria industriously combed and recombed mine till it nearly lost all its curl.

            Sunday after church, we ate dinner with Steve and Dianna Koch and their little boy Nathanael.  They invited Keith and Esther, and Bobby, too.  The roast melted in our mouths; Dianna said she soaks the frozen meat in salt water over­night.  I took the apple pie to their house with us, and Esther brought a scrump­tious jello fruit salad.

            Steve and Dianna’s house is beautiful with its big front porch and lots of windows.  They live on the northeast edge of town, and almost all the windows open toward the country.  One day when Dianna was sewing in front of a big window, she heard a funny noise, saw movement in the trees by their fence, and then she saw a fawn trying to squeeze himself under the fence and into their yard.  She slid open the window, and he backed up and dashed away.

            Last night I sang The Theme of God’s Love at church.  The amplifier was turned up too much to suit me, and the speakers in the corners were running me competition.  It’s a bit disconcerting to hear one’s self singing in one’s own ear!  I backed away from the pulpit a bit, so as to be farther from the mike, and that helped.

            After we came home from church, we gathered around the piano, and, with Hannah playing, Bobby, Larry, and I sang in three-part harmony.  That's lots of fun.  Larry sings soprano, Bobby sings tenor, and I sing alto.  (No, we aren’t planning to cut a record any time soon.)