After a pleasantly cool week, just perfect for walks with strollers and small, cute little trippers, the last couple of days have been practically unbreathable, which isn’t a word but should be, a would be, had Noah Webster ever tried to breathe our air these days. And tomorrow, when we are scheduled to have our annual church picnic at Pawnee Park, promises to be a scorcher, too. When I was walking home from church with Victoria today, she complained, “It’s too hot for me!” She reached up and felt of her curls bobbing just below the brim of her little sailor hat. “And it’s making my hair droop!” she announced. (Now where did she hear that?)
Well, we didn’t spend last week in Colorado, after all. First, we’d planned to leave at 7:30 a.m.; but finally left at 5 p.m., because Larry was busy putting a hitch on a pickup, and a roll bar {or something of that nature} on the six-door crewcab, and sundry other necessary things.
We hadn’t quite made it to Duncan (a little town 15 miles southwest of Columbus) before the first thing went wrong--the throttle cable broke. So we suddenly had plenty of motor noise, but--no go. After coasting for a good long while, we came to a stop behind the convenience store and gas station in the middle of town, where Larry commenced fixing the cable. The rest of us took turns trotting around to the front of the pickup where Larry was perched on his knees high up on the front cowl, head stuck deep under the hood, to ask, “Are we there yet?” in a helpful sort of a way.
Once he got the cable back together again, he climbed in and started the engine--whereupon that powerful motor promptly launched into a full-blooded roar, looking gleefully toward the moon and other lofty targets.
Larry shut it down.
He went back to his post under the bonnet, elongating the throttle cable until the motor could percolate nicely at mild idles, and then we were all set and ready to continue. Fifteen miles further on, Larry decided he really should double-check, via his handy little cell phone, on those vehicles in Denver we were going to retrieve.....
And that’s when he learned.....
They weren’t ready.
And they wouldn’t be ready for at least another two weeks! What a revoltin’ development. This intercommunication snafu occurred because Larry was conducting this business through a ‘middle man’, a trusted friend..... But the friend has been on vacation, and so.....
We aborted the expedition. Larry spent the short journey back home studiously checking his eyelids for holes, whilst I yelped and yiped and poked and prodded at him. He remained, while not necessarily in good form, in good humor. Sorta.
I rather peevishly informed him that he could’ve checked out the status of those cars before we left home--yes, before we got everything packed, even!--and he good-humoredly agreed. Sorta.
This is indeed aggravating--that is, when you are striving diligently to work up a perfectly good and reasonable row, and the other guy is agreeable (sorta), of all disagreeable things. Bah.
I gave up, and just enjoyed the lovely sunset (as well as I could, with a semi-conscious driver).
Anyway, Jason, the six-year-old cousin from just down the street, was glad to have us home again. He came pedaling up on his bike, glad as glad could be, greeting us with such cheer, you’d have thought we really had been gone all week.
We began unloading. Now, on our 48-foot slant trailer, we were hauling a ’96 midnight blue extended-cab Ford, with our pop-up camper hitched onto it. You see, Larry was planning to settle us all in at a nice campground, then do the hauling of those aforementioned vehicles, which would take a total of three trips, while the children and I enjoyed ourselves in the mountains. While this is not my favorite way of vacationing [I prefer to vacation with my husband, thank you] [just in case of bear, you understand], I was willing to give it a try, since he promised to be with us most of the time.
The pop-up camper and the blue pickup were loaded with our paraphernalia, but, while they were on the slant trailer, we couldn’t unload them, so as soon as the crewcab was unloaded, the children went to playing ball. Jason jumped off his bike without delay and went to catch a ball. While his back was turned, Larry snatched up his bicycle and hoisted it up onto the highest point of the slant trailer, directly in front of the blue pickup. After throwing the ball, Jason returned for his bike. He came to a halt, staring around, nonplused.
“Hey!” he exclaimed. “Where’s my bike?!”
Larry looked up at it. “Oh, good grief!” said he, “Those neighbor kids have got to stop riding their bikes up and down on my trailer!” (Of course, one couldn’t ride a bike up and down on the trailer, what with the pickup and pop-up camper being up there already.)
Larry’s arms being full of bags and satchels, Teddy lifted the bike down.
“But I didn’t!” protested Jason. He climbed on and pedaled about for a bit, then again leaped off it to chase down a wayward ball thrown by Joseph.
Larry immediately grabbed the bike and deposited it right back on the tip-top of the slant trailer. Back came Jason for his bike.
“Hey!” he cried again. “My bike!!” and this time, he looked right up at it.
“AAaaaaaa!!” howled Larry. “I said, those awful neighbor kids just must stay off my trailer!!”
Teddy again went to retrieve the bicycle. “That’s the second time!” he complained.
“Yes, but I DIDN’T DO IT!!” declared Jason, a bit louder than the first time.
And then he noticed that everybody was laughing. “They’re teasing me,” he informed Caleb, and then Jason laughed, too.
After a belated supper, I sat down and inserted three more verses into my poem, A Tribute to Our Teachers. Here is the final version:
A Tribute to Our Teachers
With thankful hearts we remember those
Who have faithfully laboured each day
Instructing and guiding our footsteps,
Teaching us to walk in God’s way.
In scholastic academics
We are encouraged to excel;
And if we’re obedient and industrious,
We shall certainly do well.
May our teachers be wise-hearted and willing,
In knowledge and workmanship skilled;
Devising things curious and cunning--
With God’s spirit may they be filled.
A desire to teach and instruct
Hath God put within their hearts;
We’ll incline our ears, we’ll retain their words,
Thankful for the blessings He imparts.
They’ve sought out and set in order
The lessons that they have taught;
And we will do our work heartily--
For the Lord!--as we ought.
For the work they have done for us,
We esteem them highly in love;
Our fervent request for our teachers
Is God’s wisdom, and strength from above.
My friend, Sandy Wright, who does the majority of the work on the annual, and who is also our organist, is going to slip the poem in at the last moment, after my sister has done the final approving of the book, so that when it comes out in print it will be a surprise for all the teachers.
I’ve been back at the computer this week, typing away on my father’s sermon notes. We are coming down the home stretch now; they are just about done!
Outside the window near my computer desk, on a big barberry bush, a wren family, father, mother, and a couple of babies, have been conducting a clamorous campaign of scolding. This goes on the greater part of the afternoon, with the parents doing a rapid-fire, high-pitched, staccato, and the babies trying to imitate them, but sounding more like toy trains than wrens. And guess what they are so all-fired up-in-arms {up-in-wings?} about?
Snakes.
That’s right; snakes.
Garter snakes.
Yes, we have a whole family of garter snakes, small, medium, large, and extra-large, dwelling in and around a big evergreen bush right beside our front porch. Ohhh, shiver me timbers.
Now I know garter snakes are harmless (or at least I think I know it), and I know that they gobble up gobs of bugs and even small rodents, but..... couldn’t they do it at the neighbor’s house instead of mine?! I’ll have to admit, we’ve had no mice since the snakes moved in; and I’ll have to admit, the mice like to get into the house and chew things up, while the snakes have yet to cause damage of any sort..... but, STILL!-- they’re SNAKES!! Those mice are downright cute, in comparison. One large snake actually had the audacity to find its way into Teddy’s room, which did not impress him in the slightest when he awoke early in the morning and found it coiled neatly on his floor in front of his dresser, as if it considered itself a worthy article of decor.
“What did you do?” breathed one of the small sisters in fascinated horror.
“Well,” explained Teddy carefully, “I used the suction cups on my feet to walk on the ceiling over to my door, where I climbed over the sill and went on down the hallway and up the slanted ceiling of the stairwell until I could get to the kitchen and get a plastic bag, which I took back downstairs and dropped on the snake. Then I tied it shut and hauled it out!”
“Hee hee hee,” giggled the sisters.
“Also, I told him to go in your window the next time he wanted in the house,” finished Teddy.
“Ooooooooooooooo!” squealed the sisters.
Tuesday, Bobby learned from the realtor that the owner of The House did not accept his offer, although it was quite reasonable, in my opinion. So he got his money back, and the search will continue. Oh, well; there’s no rush. After all!--the bride’s mother still has to alter and redo the wedding gown!--and the bride’s mother’s hairdo stands straight up on end every time she happens to think of it. Eeeeeeeeeeek.
Wedding gowns, you see, are nowadays modeled so that, if one would be modest, one must wear one’s winter coat over said gown, and not remove it until one is far, far away, and ensconced in one’s very own room. Yi.
Dorcas has now finished that white and mauve dress she was crocheting for her little cousin Michelle Walker, and it turned out ever so cute. She made some little swirled appliqués in the shape of a ‘V’ which she placed at the neckline, and Hannah crocheted a large pansy with yellow center and three green leaves which she put at the side of the skirt.
Hannah finished the little girl teddy bear’s sailor outfit--hat and all--that she was making for Linda Wright, whose birthday is on the Fourth of July, same as Dorcas’. She’d earlier made a sailor outfit for a boy bear, and Bethany Wright, Bobby’s mother, bought it from her to give to Linda (her sister-in-law). Linda was delighted with her matching set. I do believe it’s the cutest set Hannah’s made yet. I want one!
Friday, Joseph gave Dorcas an early birthday present: fireworks. We all laughed at him and informed him we knew exactly what he was up to; he knows good and well that his mother thinks fireworks are a huge waste of money; but!--if he buys them on the pretext of generously giving them to his sister for her birthday, perhaps, just perhaps, his mother won’t complain. Not too loudly, anyway.
He grinned and didn’t deny the accusations. And he grinned even wider when his sister charitably told him that he could light them off for her. Nighttime had no sooner fallen before he was doing just that.
Keith and Esther came to share in the fun, bringing some fireworks of their own to add to the racket. Victoria found herself a seat on Dorcas’ lap. And then a particularly loud firecracker went off nearby, and Dorcas nearly jumped clear of her socks. Victoria, who’d been watching the production in silent delight, laughed so hard she actually had tears on her cheeks. What a funny little girl. Of course, this got Dorcas all tickled, and finally our whole kit and caboodle was in stitches.
Lawrence and Norma also came visiting, bringing a large canister of sugar cookies that Norma and Danielle Jenkinson, Lawrence’s granddaughter, had made. (Did you know that, before Norma became Danielle’s grandmother, she was Danielle’s great aunt?) The cookies had been stamped with an eight-pointed star press and then covered with bright blue and red sprinkles. They also brought two different kinds of ice cream: blueberry waffle and fruit medley shortcake.
In the middle of the fireworks, the show was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Teddy traveling along at a good clip on his unicycle-- with his father in hot pursuit on his own unicycle, some twenty feet behind him. Right through the litter of fireworks they flew, scattering firecracker carcasses far and wide. Larry looked to be catching up, until we discerned that it was merely the topmost half of him getting the closer. Abruptly, the wheel went skittering out behind him, and he was left dashing along on his two hoofers, trying to keep up with his head, the cycle doing a spinning gyration into the church lawn across the street. Once again, the entire tribe was doubled over in mirth at the spectacle.
Esther showed us the pretty red dress she’d sewn for herself and the matching western shirt she’d made Keith. She’s quite a skilled seamstress. She also made a little sailor outfit for Matthew Seadschlag, her nephew, and my niece Susan’s little boy. Susan is not doing well, and the doctor, a specialist in Omaha, has told her that if there is any hope to save the baby, she must stay down for a good while. I think poor little Matthew, who just turned two, is wondering what in the world is the matter with his usually-so-active Mama!
Yesterday Victoria was in her room, singing away: “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb! Little ones to Him belong; they are weak, but He is strong!” Now, that’s what you call a real, honest-to-goodness medley.
One afternoon Victoria was looking at our Ranger Rick magazine, in which was a large picture of a grizzly bear. “He’s nice?” she queried.
I explained to her that grizzlies like to eat little girls for breakfast. She studied the bear in the photo. Then she said firmly, “But panda bears nice!”
Yesterday I took Victoria with me to my mother’s house, where I was going to trim Mama’s fingernails. This is a task that is difficult for her, since one hand has been weak ever since she had that stroke, and the other hand has a bit of a tremor. Also, the vitamins and minerals she takes has made her fingernails grow fast and very strong, which makes it all the harder to clip them. So, ever since I clipped them for her in the emergency room in ’95, when she must’ve decided I was crackerjack at the job, she’s asked me to do it for her. This makes me pleased, because my mother has always been the sort who wouldn’t ask for a single thing.
While I was conducting the Nail Salon, Victoria played with the toys Mama keeps in a corner of the kitchen especially for the grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She climbed up in a big reclining massage chair--and dropped her doll’s bottle down the back of the chair. I lifted the leg rest and peered under. There it was, right in plain sight--but I couldn’t reach it. I also spotted a truck of Caleb’s under there, too.
I said to Victoria, “There it is, see? You’re small enough you could just fit; can you crawl under there and get the bottle and the truck?”
She started to, then looked over her shoulder, saw Mama sitting nearby, watching, and hurriedly sat back up, looking embarrassed.
“It’s time to go home,” she whispered to me quietly.
I tried to coax her into it again. “You can fit under there just fine; I can’t! Look--it’s not very far!”
She looked. Then she informed me softly, “I really need to go home.” haha
Now, I could’ve insisted that she get those toys, and she would’ve; but the child was embarrassed, and I don’t like to humiliate a child in public. If my child misbehaves, I correct him; but I don’t want to humiliate him; there’s a difference. Don’t you think?
Anyway, I got a long handle and managed to drag the toys out, and Victoria was glad to get her dolly’s bottle back again.
This all reminded Mama of the time when she was approximately three or so, and her father had hired some men to help him ‘raise’ the new barn. They first built the frame; then they assembled an entire wall on the ground before lifting it as one piece, and setting it in place. While they worked, Mama played nearby in the soft sand and dirt that would be the floor of the new barn. Finally, they were ready for the fourth wall. They lifted it into position and put it into its station.
And then one of the workers said, “What’s that noise?”
Everybody stopped and listened.....and my Grandpa Winings said, “It’s Hester! She’s crying; she must be inside!”
She was. She’d been playing around the stanchions, and they hadn’t noticed her as they lifted the wall, walking along behind it, pushing it into place. Grandpa walked around to the other side where a small cement conduit widened into an aqueduct that went down under the wall. It was plenty big enough for a small child to crawl through.
So Grandpa knelt down, and, calling Mama to come to him, he held his hands out under the wall to help her through.
She wouldn’t do it. She remembers that she thought she wasn’t about to crawl under that wall and into the sight of all those men!--and she refused to do it. Grandpa told her later that she went on squalling the entire time.
Then she heard a strange noise on one side of the barn. Looking back, she noticed a saw coming through the wall, in and out, in and out. They were cutting out the door. Now, they hadn’t intended to cut the door so soon; but, on account of her being ‘stuck’ inside, they were.
Sunday morning before church, we gave Dorcas one of her presents, since I thought she would doubtless want to wear it to church: a fancy silver and gold watch. She did.
We’d invited Norma and Lawrence, Keith and Esther, and Bobby Wright for dinner, and, in honor of the occasion, we set the table with red, white, and blue striped and starred plates, saucers, glasses, and napkins. It was especially festive and gala..... in spite of the fact that all this frippery was in the form of paper, rather than fine china.
Norma brought three of her Best Strawberry Pies In The World, and then Larry’s cousin Karen Sue (Jenkinson) Anderson arrived with a jello dessert for Dorcas. There were three layers: red (raspberry jello), white (cream cheese), and blue (berry blue jello). It was shaped like a waving flag, and made the table brighter than ever. I added turkey, rice-and-cornbread dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, peas, and biscuits to the menu.
The turkey (two of them, actually) had been started cooking at about 3:30 a.m. in the morning, since they were frozen and I thought they’d be just done nicely by 12:30 or so, if I were to bake them very slowly at 250 degrees in my biggest roaster. They were done nicely, all right--at 8:00 a.m. Bother. Now what would I do?
Well, I poured the broth into a separate bowl, let everything cool slightly, and put it all into the refrigerator. After coming home from church a little after noon, I put the turkey back into the oven to warm it up again, and I made gravy with the broth. The advantage to doing it this way is that when the broth cools, the fat rises to the top and can be skimmed off. And the less fat, the better, whether on me, or in my gravy!
Bobby, who is a helpful sort, was standing in the kitchen looking for something more to do after helping wipe off the table and set it. So I made good use of him: every time I pulled a pan off the stove, or picked an item up from the counter, since there didn’t seem to be a good place to set it down, I handed it to Bobby.....until finally his hands and arms were clear full, and he was laughing.
After dinner, during which we all saw how brim-full we could stuff ourselves and still waddle away from the table, Dorcas opened her presents. We gave her a little jewelry ‘chest’ in which were a few barrettes from Hester, including a butterfly with jeweled wings on springs, so that they flutter up and down just like a real butterfly’s wings; a matching address book and notebook with pencil and eraser; and a photo album. Keith and Esther gave her a collector’s spoon from the Cave of the Winds, where they’d gone on their honeymoon.....and then I remembered: spoons! I’d also gotten Dorcas some collector’s spoons, when Larry and I, along with Joseph, Caleb, and Victoria, had gone to Indiana to deliver a vehicle and pick up some cargo trailers! I rushed hastily off to my bedroom, rummaged about in my sewing cabinet, found the three spoons--one from Indiana, one from Illinois, and one from Chicago--hurriedly wadded paper around them, and loped back out to the kitchen to add it to Dorcas’ pile of presents.
Lawrence and Norma gave her a Thomas Kinkade cross-stitch kit, a picture of a lighthouse, and a ‘1928’ necklace --a mother-of-pearl flower with an amethyst in the center on a delicate gold chain. Mama then called her to come over and get a present. When Dorcas went in the front door, my brother Loren was just trying to finish wrapping a book that Mama was giving Dorcas. He was having all sorts of troubles (mostly for Dorcas’ benefit, I imagine) (and partly for Mama’s, too), wrinkling the paper something awful, taping every which way, and affixing the card to the bottom of the package and letting it hang down all whoppyjaw.
Mama laughed and laughed at his silly antics.
After church tonight, we drove north to the hills overlooking Columbus to watch the fireworks going off all over town. Yes, we’re patriotic souls! Sandy and I played “The Star-Spangled Banner” and “America the Beautiful” as opening songs for tonight’s service. You should’ve heard the congregation singing “America the Beautiful” with all their might and main.
Here’s a poem I once wrote for Dorcas’ birthday (I think she was about eight or nine):
Fourth of July Child
Patriotic you be,
Patriotic you are:
When you’re born on the Fourth,
You’re bound to go far!
You arrived with a screech
Like a low-flying tracer;
You’ve got brilliance and ‘flare’
Like a fast-flying racer.
We hope that your birthday
Goes off with a bang,
With nary a reason
For pingle or pang.
So listen, dear Dorcas--
We want you to know--
There’s no daughter like you--
And we love you so!
Now I’d better get busy and put together some food for tomorrow’s picnic!
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