Last Monday morning, Dorcas had surgery on her knee. Larry took her to David City, arriving at 4:15 a.m. I planned to get ready a little later, hoping to arrive before she was taken into surgery; but there was pea-soup fog from just past the Platte River until I topped the hill on the final jog to David City, and I got there fifteen minutes after the surgery had begun.
As I crossed the river bridge, the sun was just rising, off to my left, shining brilliant orange through big puffy clouds drifting past. Just to the south, a heavy fog bank was rolling in. The clouds shone lavender and pink, and the sky glistened pale blue…and all this luminous glow was reflected in the river. Overhead, thousands of swallows fluttered and dipped on the morning breeze. It was breath-takingly beautiful--and my camera was lolling indolently at home in my bedroom. Bother!
The surgery took about an hour, and then Dr. Connolly came to tell us about it. Her kneecap, it seems, had been dislocated, and then popped back into place. It had bled a lot underneath, and there was already scar tissue. The tendons on one side of the kneecap were pulling too tightly, so the cap was liable to not stay in proper position. The doctor cut the tendons so that the kneecap could lie where it ought to, and he trimmed the jagged cartilage. A piece of bone had been chipped, too, and was under the cap; he removed it. She will need intensive physical therapy for about a month; the tendons behind both knees are very tight, and the muscles on her legs need to be strengthened, to better keep such a thing from recurring.
Goodness! Doesn’t that make the hair on the back of your neck get all frizzled?!
Larry and I were sitting in the waiting room at the back of the hospital, when, along about a quarter after seven, along came Norma. We went to the cafeteria for some coffee…and lo and behold, they had yummy flavored creamer just like the stuff advertised on the TV in the waiting room that I’d been drooling over. I mean, over which I’d been drooling. Soon after we returned to Dorcas’ room, she was brought in from the Recovery Room. She seemed fine, and said her knee already felt better.
I went home at 9:45 to feed the littles their breakfast and take everyone back to retrieve Dorcas, whenever they would allow her to come home. Sometimes when Teddy goes into the little girls’ room to awaken them, he marches into their room shouting jovially, “Arise and shine!”…and sometimes he sneaks in and lifts the mattress on one side, up…up…up… until both little girls lose their grip and tumble out onto the floor, blankets, pillows, and all.
Lydia said, “It’s just one of his methods!”
We were soon on our way back to David City, arriving just as the physical therapists were helping Dorcas learn how better to go up and down steps with crutches.
Teddy stayed home because he was sick. He had gotten sick the previous Friday evening, and then didn’t feel so very well Saturday, and by Sunday morning, he was really sick.
We went to the cafeteria for a little while, and I had enough additional cups of coffee to try out every flavor of creamer they had: Irish crème, Hazelnut, French vanilla, chocolate raspberry, Amaretto, etc. (No, that's not too much coffee. It was exactly the right amount.)
Everyone was starving, in spite of their breakfast, and Dorcas was not yet ready to go; so we fed the vending machines handfuls of coins getting ourselves crackers and cheese, doritoes, animal crackers, and chocolate chip cookies. We finally left, just about 3:30 p.m. Dorcas rode with Larry in the Bronco, since it isn’t as high as the Suburban, and is therefore easier for her to get into. After we got home, Joseph and Teddy, who was feeling a little better, set off some fireworks.
Lawrence and Norma came, bringing Dorcas a red skirt and white blouse that she wore to the picnic the next day. Norma also brought some of the material with which she had made the little girls’ jumpers. I had totally forgotten that I’d planned to make stretchy clips for the backs of those too-big jumpers. So, on our way to the fireworks show at Ag Park, we stopped at Wal-Mart for the little gold clips to which I would sew the elastic, which I would cover with the red-checked fabric. As I was rushing past the shoe department, some white leather thongs and light brown suede Dr. Scholl’s with a buckled T-strap, both in my size, leaped off the rack right into my cart. There was nothing I could do about it; I had to buy them. And that was that.
After supper, we all went to Ag Park to watch a spectacular fireworks show. Dorcas came, too; her knee really was feeling much better. I took pictures of fireworks with my new camera for the first time. I hadn’t been able to figure out how to set it on ‘bulb’--where the shutter stays open the duration of the shutter button being held down. Well, in the dark of the night, as I peered through the lens and pushed this button and that, suddenly, there inside the lens, on the side where it tells me all my settings, and whether or not the flash is on, and whether or not the person at whom I am aiming should comb their hair or floss their teeth, it suddenly announced in bright green neon letters, ‘bulb’!
I’d done it! I had done set thet thar camera on the setting I wanted!
Unfortunately, I have no idea how I done it, and I almost certainly shall never be able to repeat the feat. This Fourth-of-July show was bigger and better than ever before, brought about, of course, by a bigger and better expenditure of money than they had ever done before.
When I grow up, I want to be a pyrotechnician.
Really, I am perfect for the job: I like lighting fires; I like colorful, sparkly things; I like loud noises; and I am very patriotic, into the bargain.
On our way home, we found ourselves driving along right in front of Bobby and Hannah. Thinking to pull a prank on them, instead of continuing on down Howard Boulevard to our house, we went off down 15th Street to their house, and pulled right up into their driveway.
But they didn’t come.
We waited…and waited…and waited…
We gave up after a few minutes and went home.
There was their car, in our driveway. hahaha They’d come to collect a few more items belonging to Hannah. They showed us a few minutes of the video they’d taken on their honeymoon, then left it for us to watch later.
I made pumpkin muffins for the picnic. There was stuff all over the table that needed to be put away…the clips for the jumpers weren’t done…some clothes needed to be washed…Victoria needed a bath…it was getting late…and I decided to make potato soup, rather than having Larry’s usual chili dogs, just because I wanted to use up some potatoes, carrots, onions, and half-and-half in our refrigerator. (No, don’t worry; everything was quite edible.)
Just the thought of all this work to do must’ve worn Larry to a frizzle-frazzle; he decided to go have a nap. My ire immediately declared itself to be entirely Irish, and I decided I would not make soup, after all. Larry could make his chili dogs. I had enough to do. So there.
Before tucking Victoria into bed, I gave her a haircut. She looks even more like I did at that age, with her hair short… (even if I do say so myself…)
I don’t like doing those sorts of things such as making dress clips at the last minute, particularly when I need to do all sorts of other things. Oh, well…it only took half an hour…but that half an hour was spent between 1:30 and 2:00 a.m. Bother.
But the next morning, when Hester and Lydia donned their jumpers, I was pleased I had sewn those clips, because the jumpers looked so much cuter, nipped in with those clips. And besides….the little girls were pleased.
Hannah came over about an hour before we left, and put Dorcas, Hester, Lydia’s hair up in French braids. Victoria’s hair is wavy, all on its own, particularly when it is short.
Larry made chili dogs (imagine that) and strawberry kiwi drink for the picnic. We took the pumpkin muffins, which I frosted with the wrong frosting, since Teddy thought ‘Creamy White Frosting’ was probably the same thing as--or awfully close to--Cream Cheese Frosting, which was what I ordered. And we took lettuce salad, which we also brought back home again, with the bowl just as full as it had been when it went--albeit with the lettuce in a somewhat limper state.
Dorcas felt well enough to go, and was so happy about it. She wound up with a bigger-than-usual pile of presents…this time, not only because it was her birthday--her 18th--but also because of her injured knee. Teddy still didn’t feel very well, but he was able to go to the picnic--and he even managed to play a round or two of basketball. He thinks perhaps he contracted food poisoning from something he ate at Arby’s Friday night.
It was very hot and humid that day. As usual, there were at least three long tables full of all sorts of food. My automatic pilot gravitated me right toward the Mexican foods. Mmmm, yummy! Larry played basketball; I took pictures. Victoria played on the children’s toys; Lydia and Caleb played Frisbee with several of their cousins; Hester played volleyball and softball; and Joseph played softball. Dorcas perched herself on a picnic table on the outskirts of the big shelter and, using her long lens, took pictures of the children playing nearby. She did not lack for company; several sympathetic friends were close at hand the duration of the afternoon.
Jerry Jon, a friend of ours and husband of one of Larry’s cousins, was playing Frisbee with a couple of the littles and several of his own children. Lydia threw a ‘ring’, and it went sailing farther than she’d intended. Into the middle of the basketball court it flew, circling neatly around the head of Tom Tucker, who’d just thrown the ball to someone, and was still in the position, hands up…his head whipped around, and he stared in the direction the ‘ring’ had gone, but it seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.
“What was that!” he exclaimed.
Jerry was laughing…I think he was the only other one who actually saw what had happened. Lydia herself had no idea where that ring had gotten itself to.
Victoria is quite an independent child; she doesn't worry much, if Larry or I are not close; just so long as there are other friendly faces, she's content to play wherever she wishes. By the time we went home, it was almost 5:00 p.m. As I tucked Victoria into bed for a nap, she sighed happily. "Picnics are fun," she said sleepily, "'Cause everyone there is my friend!"
Wonderful philosophy, don’t you think?
That evening, Joseph and Teddy lit off some fireworks. Keith and Esther came visiting for a little while, and then we went to Seward to watch their fireworks show. Columbus’ show was better, but there were lots more people at the Seward show than there were at Ag Park the previous night. When the show was over, there was an A-one, first-class traffic jam in that little town.
At the end of last week, we heard from Jennifer and Sarah McDonald that they had had a first-rate trip home; their car had worked perfectly. They were totally delighted with it, as were their parents and the rest of their family. The car was appraised at $5,300.00 at the border, think of that! But the customs officials took pity on them and knocked it down to $4,000.00, so they didn’t have to pay so much tax. They had to buy a license, and they were taxed $100.00 for the air conditioning. Even the seat belts and the air bags were taxed! But, Sarah said, “It was worth it!”
And for us, it was also worth it; surely it was not coincidental that we had just sold our pop-up camper and had not found the time to go to Valley to replace it with a large pickup camper we had seen at a camper sales there. We truly felt blessed to be able to help our Canadian friends. Yes, the verse is true: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
The neighbors who live behind us, directly to the east, on the other side of the alley, have two little bitty yippy yappy dogs, one of whom is named Puddles. When the lady takes them outside, Puddles invariably makes a getaway, running with all his might and main as hard as his legs can go, lickety sizzle down the alley to the Boulevard. And Dianne stands at her fence, screeching after him, "Puddles! Puddles!! Puddles!! PUDDLES!!!!!"
And the littles stand in our backyard making strange snorting noises while they try not to laugh.
Wednesday evening, we watched the rest of Bobby and Hannah’s honeymoon video, taken in Colorado. They traveled through Rocky Mountain National Park, over Berthoud Pass, down into Black Canyon of the Gunnison, over Monarch Pass, and to the Royal Gorge. They also climbed the 224 steps beside Seven Falls, went through Garden of the Gods, and drove the Gold Camp Road. The scenery was beautiful…and I want to go to the mountains! But I want to go further north, please…where there is less crushing humanity. Oh, well…there is always Lake North, I guess, just north of Columbus…and the crushing humanity has usually dissipated by midnight…
Thursday afternoon I walked over to Hannah’s house, pushing Victoria in the stroller, carrying my coffee mug in one hand, with a plastic bag hanging from my other wrist, and a hammer in the stroller basket. The bag was full of gifts for Bobby and Hannah--such things as dishcloths from the elderly neighbors who live nearby, quite a few more dishcloths and towels from Mama, along with all sorts of spatulas, potato peelers, dippers, and kitchen gadgets and utensils of every sort. Did you know it’s hard to steer a stroller with one hand, especially when a large, heavy bag is hanging from that particular wrist, especially when said stroller is holding a good-sized kiddo, and especially when one must go over umpteen curbs to get to one’s destination? Well, it is.
Caleb came, too, leading the way on his bicycle. Hester and Lydia came for a little while, then went off to play with their cousins, Jodie and Sharon. The hammer came along for the purpose of pounding nails…because…I planned to spend the afternoon helping Hannah hang all her new pictures and decorations in her house. Doesn't it make a house a home, much more cozy and welcoming, to have pretty things on the walls? I was pleased with our efforts, when we were done.
Hannah showed me the pictures she’d taken on their honeymoon. Such pretty pictures! I love the mountains. She had close-ups of a baby Clark’s nutcracker. He was so fluffy and cute, with his mouth turned down at the corners just like baby robins’ mouths are, making them look ever so woebegone and sad. Hannah said the bird came hopping toward her when she got out of her car, tipping his head one way and then the other, looking at her, probably hoping for a handout.
The children’s cousin Sharon just got a new Schwinn bicycle for her birthday. Her father Kelvin, my nephew, told Hester and Lydia he would sell Sharon’s old bike for $30.00. Lydia came pedaling pell-mell to Hannah’s house to tell me about it.
“Yes, you can have it,” I told her, and she bounced up and down in delight. “Go home and get the money from my purse.”
She was out the door before I finished talking.
Lydia hardly disembarked from that bike the rest of the evening. She is totally tickled pink…all the more, because the bike is bright purple. (I wonder why we never say someone is ‘tickled purple’?)
While at Hannah’s house, she wondered aloud if Teddy might have E.coli, and my heart nearly fell out and landed on the floor. E.coli! I had not even thought of it. I tell you, I slapped the last few pictures on the walls so fast and furious, I would not be at all surprised if one of those walls does not fall over in the near future. E.coli. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that every symptom Teddy had fit the identifying qualifications for E.coli.
I hastily bid Hannah adieu, grabbed Victoria’s hand, called Caleb, and raced out the door. Victoria shinnied into her stroller, Caleb clambered onto his bike, and we made tracks for home.
Can you imagine how relieved I was, then, when upon my arrival home, I discovered Teddy in the kitchen, fixing himself some Nissan soup? He said he was feeling better, and, after I conducted the Spanish Inquisition on him, I decided he probably didn’t have E.coli, after all. People who get sick from E.coli don’t continue to feel better, do they?
I then launched into a second attack on the bookwork (another statement from the bank had arrived in the mail), washed some clothes... intended to start on the mending, but wound up running all sorts of errands, instead: to Wal-Mart to drop off some film; to Ampride to fill the Suburban--and isn't it a hungry Behemoth!!--to the post office; and to the grocery store, where the clerk left one of my bags on the wrong side of the checkout stand, causing me to have to return to the store for the rest of the evening's supper. Good thing we only live about four blocks from the store.
Larry said that would never have happened to him, because the bag I left behind had a candy bar in it--I spotted the new KitKat bar in the candy section and couldn’t help myself--and he would have been hunting for his candy bar before he ever started the Suburban. Anyway, after all that, the mending was now slated for the next day. And what a pile of it has accumulated during all these months of frantic wedding (to say nothing of Easter) preparations! You'd think Caleb traveled everywhere he went on his knees, you really would.
When the mending is over, I shall finally get back to doing what I am indeed looking forward to doing: writing. Or typing, as the case may be.
Thursday afternoon, two men, one from the State Licensing Board, the other from the State Tax Bureau, came to our door, wanting to talk to Larry. The reason? A certain Mick Pick has been selling vehicles through Columbus Auto Sales and forging Larry’s name, when he’s doing business in Cedar County. Since we have not had a dealer’s license this year, and on paper all those vehicles he’s sold are in our name, we are liable for all the unpaid sales tax--thousands and thousands of dollars. He has a pickup at our friend Tom Tucker’s frame shop; Larry is hoping he can somehow hold onto it and force Mick to fork over the money, all the paperwork, etc. We are in danger of having liens slapped on all our property. Lucky thing the shop has already been sold!
When we first met this man, Larry wouldn’t believe that was really his name, the first time he heard it: Mick Pick. I told Larry his middle name was probably Richard, so that we could call him either Mick Rick Pick, or Mick Dick Pick. I was just being a smarty; but guess what: We later learnt that Michael Pick’s middle name was indeed Richard. His mother doubtless thought she was naming her son a perfectly respectable name: Michael Richard Pick. Who would ever dream he would turn into Mick Rick Pick someday? Methinks one Mick Rick Pick is in a pickle. And no wonder he turned to a life of crime, with a name like that.
Trouble is, we’re in a pickle, too. Help!!!
Bobby and Hannah’s air conditioning has not been working since they returned from their honeymoon--and it’s been hot around these parts, with temperatures in the high 90s, with humidity to match. Hannah informed Bobby that the air conditioner was on the fritz. He, in the manner of all husbands everywhere, held his hand over the vent and said yes, it was, too, working. Hannah called in the big guns: she told his mother. Bobby promptly had his ears pinned to the side of his head, compliments of his mother. He called Beard-Warren, the air-conditioning experts, to come fix it; they were unable to come that day.
Hannah came to our house Friday afternoon to cool down and to put her pictures into her album. I suggested that she call our friend, electrician Arthur Frewing, he of the April First prank involving fishing line tied across a walk behind the church…do you remember? He was able to come immediately, and promptly had it fixed. Arthur is a man of few words. He is also a true-blue friend.
Sometimes he has come to our house to fix certain electrical cataclysms, and has worked for hours without a break. Suppertime comes around, and Arthur Frewing is still hard at work. Now, it does absolutely no good at all to ask him if he wants something to eat; the answer will invariably be “no”. The only thing to do is to fill the plate and take it to him. Then, a few minutes later, one must go back to the scene of the crime and inform him, “If you don’t eat that food, the neighbor’s pigs will.”
He eats the food.
One word of advice, however: Do not, under any circumstances, try to feed him ‘fast food’; he will not touch it with a ten-foot pole. Why, the fastest food he’s ever eaten in his life is Cheese Whiz.
Our favorite corn, Daniel’s sweet corn, is already selling at the roadside stands. My sister-in-law, Janice, brought us a dozen ears, and she also gave Keith and Esther, and Bobby and Hannah half a dozen each.
“Would you husk the corn?” I asked the littles.
“Oka--“ Hester started to answer, but was interrupted by her smallest sister.
“YES!!!” cried Victoria gladly, heading off on a dead run.
By the time her elder siblings reached the kitchen, she had an entire ear completely husked, clean as a whistle. “There!” she announced, looking at that ear in pleased satisfaction. And then, before anyone could say a word, CHOMP!! She took a big bite out of it.
She chewed. Her eyes got big. She leaned over and spit it out. “It’s not good!” she exclaimed in total dismay. “Do we have to throw it away?!”
Hester, Lydia, and Caleb went into peals of laughter.
“No,” I explained, taking the ear from Victoria’s outstretched hand. “We just have to cook it first.”
Victoria sat back, a wee bit subdued, eyes still large. “Oh,” said she. And then she reached for another ear to husk.
Soon done with the husking, they headed outside to play in their new wading pool. The temperatures were in the 90s, and the humidity was so high it was hard to breathe. It wasn’t long before Hester came dripping to the back door, calling my name, wanting to show me --- a giant night crawler she was holding.
Ewwwwww.ick/bleah/yuck. (haha…look what my computer did, when I hit a period instead of a comma after ‘Ewww’--it decided I was typing a Web site address!) The creepy thing must’ve been a good ten inches long! Evidently, Hester was not taught the “What Little Girls Are Made Of” limerick before it was too late. Much too late.
When the children came in, they were half starved half to death, so we baked some whole wheat biscuits and cooked the corn, making sure there was enough for Mama, who especially likes corn and biscuits.
Teddy finally felt well enough to go to work Friday and Saturday; and he went to church today, too. He’s going to be okay, thank goodness.
At 7:00 Friday evening, Larry told me via telephone wire that he would be home in fifteen minutes so we could go play tennis. He came home a little after 8:30--and that’s just about the shortest fifteen minutes he’s ever been late. We stopped at Wal-Mart for a couple of new tennis racquets and balls for Larry and I; I’ve never had a racquet before.
We then went to Gruenther Park, where Teddy and Joseph had gone to play tennis or football. When we arrived, we discovered a whole volley of boys, including Teddy and Joseph, playing basketball--on the tennis court. So Larry, Hester, and I played Frisbee, while Lydia, Caleb, and Victoria had their own game of catch, first with another Frisbee, then with a tennis ball. Eventually the boys finished their basketball game and went home. Teddy, feeling rather drained, went home too; but Joseph stayed with us.
And then Larry and I tried our hand at a game of tennis. I have not played tennis for over 20 years…but this is one game which age has improved. I actually managed to hit the ball back over the net and land it inside the boundary line, into the bargain! In days gone by, I often wound up socking the silly thing into the next county, and no one wanted to play with me because they didn’t enjoy chasing the ball to Guatemala every time I hit it, the killjoys.
When the tennis game was over, we drove to Sapp Bros. for coffee for me and slushies for the kiddos. Their favorite flavor is blueberry…and the stuff stains their mouths navy blue. Before we ever got home, we had a Suburban full of navy-mouthed spooks. We drove past All About Kids, the daycare center where Dorcas works.
“There’s the scene of the accident,” I told the children, and indeed it did look as if there had been an accident, for someone had run the wheels right out from under the Cozy Coupe. Caleb in particular thought that was funny.
Home again, we pulled into our garage. Victoria took her seat belt off. “There!” she informed us jubilantly, “I strapped myself out!”
Guess what I did Saturday?
Nope, not the mending. Just because I said I was going to do the mending, did it necessarily follow that I really would do the mending? Silly, silly. I did something much more fun.
I wrote out our Christmas cards, that’s what I did! And I put our Christmas picture into each one--130 in all. Yup, I’ve already got our Christmas pictures back; it was one of our entire family, taken at Hannah’s wedding. Nope, you can’t have it now; you have to wait. Patience, patience!
Yesterday, of all things, Caleb contracted pinkeye again. Wasn’t once enough? This time, I decided against letting the child suffer through it; I called the doctor and got a prescription. I went to Walgreens to pick it up… It has a most impressive name: Neomycin and Polymyxin B Sulfates and Gramicidin Ophthalmic Solution. It’s in a little bottle holding exactly 10 ml (is that MegaLertz?) (MiniLiters?) (MilLipedes?) (MilliLiters?), and it cost--get this: $19.49. One must pay for illustrious medicines, you know. Good grief.
Anyway, the stuff works like magic… After only one drop in each eye, he looked about 85% better; and by the time I’d given him the second drop, one would never have guessed he was suffering from conjunctivitis at all. I stayed home with him this morning, because after sleeping all night, his eyes were a little worse; but tonight he looked fine and dandy, so to church we went.
Bobby and Hannah joined us for dinner this afternoon, while Keith and Esther invited Lawrence and Norma to their house. After church tonight, Keith and Esther came visiting, showing us the pictures they’d taken at the wedding.
And now… I hear my bed calling me!
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