After having given the kitten Tippy to Keith and Esther last Sunday night, I think Kitty was looking for her for a couple of days…she kept meowing loudly, walking around the house, searching high and low. Poor thing.
Lawrence and Norma came visiting last Monday evening, bringing us brownies with Hershey’s white chocolate chips. We tucked Victoria into bed after letting her stay up a bit later than usual to watch a video about bears that had to be returned to the library that night, so that we would not acquire a late charge, which we seem entirely too fond of doing. Victoria likes to push the buttons on the video player, and she usually knows exactly which one to push, too.
When Keith was little, I taught him how to run my big tape player, because, since I was sometimes busy with a little brother or sister, it was very handy to have someone else who could run it for me. I told him where the pause button was.
One day, when a tape was in it, but no sound was coming out; I wanted to be sure the player was not eating the tape. I said to Keith, “Could you look and see if the pause is on?”
He, to my surprise, trotted over to the player--it was on the floor--and flung himself right down on his stomach in front of it. He peered into the little window, and then he said, said he, “Yes, Mama, the paws are moving.”
A couple of weeks ago, Hannah was checking papers for her little Reading class, and holding two kittens while she was at it. Dorcas was reading a book and holding Tiger. The closer it got to the time to give the kittens away, the more extra-special they became to everyone, and they found themselves in someone’s arms a good deal of the time.
Bobby, coming in and observing this, remarked with a deadpan face, “How are those kittens ever going to learn to walk?”
Hannah read some of her students’ short stories to us. Here is a line from one page: “Strange shadows lorked across the ground.” And another: “The wind hollered through the trees. ‘Mother!’ she squealed.” The assignment had been, 'Write a scary story.'
Perhaps funny stories run in the family: That child’s uncle once said, if his boat capsized, and he were dumped out, since he didn’t know how to swim, he would just hold his nose, drop like a rock to the bottom--and then walk to shore, still holding his nose.
Some small kiddo with peanut butter and jelly on his hands must’ve petted Tiger one day; his fur was all sticky with what I think was UFO: Unidentified Food OOooooeygoo. Either that, or someone tied to make a sandwich out of him.
Saturday, we took our poor old doggy to the vet and bid her adieu. We were ever so sad about it, but the poor thing has had kidney troubles and arthritis for so long, that we finally couldn’t stand for her to be in pain any longer. Also, we had decided to keep the kitten Tad, and the last thing we wanted was for Aleutia to gobble down the kitten when we weren’t looking. After all, the kitten was hale and hearty, and just beginning his life.
A friend recently asked how I made the Stuffed Cheesy Nacho Bread and Stuffed Nachos I mentioned in a previous post. Sooo... Here it is:
The Way to Make Stuffed Cheesy Nacho Bread and Stuffed Nachos.
How I make Stuffed Cheesy Nacho Bread:
I hear the Schwan man pull up out in front of the house. This immediately brings on a mad scurry to find my purse. Somewhere in the middle of the hunt, I hear one of the children let the man in the house. I rush down the hallway to greet him, usually with the lost purse snagged around one foot and bouncing along behind me. I pretend it isn’t there, and reach for the brochure he is holding out to me.
When I get to the page with the Stuffed Cheesy Nacho Bread, I look studiously from one option to another, finally choose the Nacho flavor, and point it out to him. He punches in the number on his little computerized Computerized Number Puncher. When I am done ordering, he tells me how much I owe him.
I reach down for my purse, whose handle I have surreptitiously extracted from around my ankle, acting as if I knew the purse was there all along, and had purposely put it there, too. I pay him. The Schwan man goes back out to the truck and brings in the food. We put it into the freezer. Come suppertime, we decide we want Stuffed Cheesy Nacho Bread.
We get it out of the freezer, set the oven, open the box and take the nacho bread out, and put it on a cookie sheet. When the oven is hot, we put the bread into the oven and bake it. Upon getting it out, we slice it and dip each piece into picanté sauce and try to eat it, long before it has cooled enough.
And that’s my recipe for Stuffed Cheesy Nacho Bread.
My recipe for Stuffed Nachos, on the other hand, is quite different:
How I make Stuffed Nachos:
I hear the Schwan man pull up out in front of the house. This immediately brings on a mad scurry to find my purse. Somewhere in the middle of the hunt, I hear one of the children let the man in the house. I rush down the hallway to greet him, usually with the lost purse snagged around one foot and bouncing along behind me. I pretend it isn’t there, and reach for the brochure he is holding out to me.
When I get to the page with the Stuffed Nachos, I look studiously from one option to another, finally choose the Nacho flavor, and point it out to him. He punches in the number on his little computerized Computerized Number Puncher. When I am done ordering, he tells me how much I owe him.
I reach down for my purse, whose handle I have surreptitiously extracted from around my ankle, acting as if I knew the purse was there all along, and had purposely put it there, too. I pay him. The Schwan man goes back out to the truck and brings in the food. We put it into the freezer. Come suppertime, we decide we want Stuffed Nachos.
We get it out of the freezer, set the oven, open the box and take the nachos out, and put them on a cookie sheet. When the oven is hot, we put the nachos into the oven and bake them. Upon getting them out, we dole them out and try to eat them, dipping each piece into picanté sauce, long before it has cooled enough.
And that’s my recipe for Stuffed Nachos.
Hannah put flowers on a couple of crocheted hats--sailor style--that my sister Lura Kay got for Hester and Lydia in Omaha or somewhere. They are ever so cute. She decorated Victoria’s new white straw hat with a dozen ribbon roses--and Victoria happily wore it around all the rest of the day.
Tuesday we tried on our Easter clothes and I altered and hemmed several things.
As I put it back in place, Teddy said in the most sympathetic tone, “Did you hurt yourself when you sat down?”
I am looking forward to Jr. Choir next week, when we don’t have to practice... practice... and practice. I’ll be able to play some games with these children. We like to do sword drills. The children sit with their Bibles in their laps, hands on either side of the covers, and I announce a Scripture reference. As soon as I say, “Go,” they turn to the place as quickly as they can, and whoever gets there first stands up and reads it aloud. I pick several verses in a row with the same theme--one word the same--and part of the game is for the children to guess the word I am looking up. Usually somebody figures it out by the second verse.
It’s always funny when one child, not noticing that somebody has already guessed what the word was in each verse, finally becomes aware of it after about the 15th verse. It’s usually some bright little person--smart as can be, but a bit like Alice--often off in Wonderland. The child suddenly looks like somebody turned a light on, and his hand flies up. When I say his name, he triumphantly tells me the answer-----the very answer somebody already told me five minutes earlier. I always smile and say, “That’s exactly right!” The other children know good and well that they dare not laugh at that child.
It was a cloudy day outside Thursday morning. Have you ever noticed that there are more fender-benders on cloudy days? Watch people’s faces as they are driving: they frown and scowl and act peeved at everybody. Silly people; don’t they know clouds are more restful on the eyes? I like driving on cloudy days. And sunny days. And wintry days. The weather shouldn’t affect people’s dispositions--but it does.
The trees around here are leafing out; there is a definite greenness in the scenery. The peony bushes are over a foot tall, and on the north side of the house the Virginia bluebells are blooming like everything. I really like Virginia bluebells. Soon the bleeding hearts and the lily of the valley will be blooming. Lily of the valley is one of my favorite flowers; I love the way they smell. I hope mine come up this year; last year I made the error of hanging a bird feeder above them, and the birdseed that fell all around the lily of the valley sprouted and grew like Jack’s beanstalk, and when I pulled up the sprouts, I nearly uprooted the flowers.
The tulips are blooming, and the irises have buds on them. I need to start using some of the hoards and piles of film I have. Flowers are fun and easy to take pictures of, if one has the right lens. They have a habit of sitting still and posing nicely, which is more than I can say of such things as river otter, bald eagles, or caribou.
Thursday afternoon the sun came out, and every cloud went away, and it was bright and pretty outside. There was a brown thrasher and a white-throated sparrow (a migratory bird) in our back yard. Chickadees and cardinals were singing vibrantly.
Ever since I was very small, my parents have received prank phone calls periodically. Sometimes people say horrible and nasty things. One time, their phone rang in the middle of the night. Daddy and Mama both jumped up to answer it. Mama ran for the door. Daddy, forgetting that Mama had changed the room furniture around, ran for the closet.
As Mama went out the door, she flicked on the light. Daddy, by now in the depths of the closet, fighting shirts and pants and such like, could only see a dim glow.
By the time he extracted himself from the closet, Mama was already coming back into the room, looking a bit puzzled, and saying, “Somebody wants to talk to you.”
He struggled out of the closet, made his way into the living room, and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
And this is what he heard: “Aww, glo onk bunk da bred!”
With that, the phone was slammed in his ear. Daddy, still somewhat discombobulated by his foray into the closet, slowly hung the phone up, and turned to look at my mother.
“What did he say?” asked Mama, concerned.
Daddy shook his head. “I don’t know, but he sounded familiar--” and then he realized--”OH! I know who that was!” He began to grin. “It was the head deacon, and he’s drunk, and he said, ‘Aw, go on back to bed!’”
So they went on back to bed.
When the kittens were all still here, one of their favorite pastimes was to scramble all over the back of my desk chair--while I was sitting in it. I miss them doing that…but at least one little kitten--Tad--still comes crawling up behind me. He is the most adorable kitten I've ever seen.
We placed an ad in the paper, to give away Tiger. I wish we hadn’t’ve had to give him away; he was such a loving little kitten, always wanting to sleep in my lap. I sure was hoping somebody nice would get him. And I believe they did.
We placed an ad in the paper, to give away Tiger. I wish we hadn’t’ve had to give him away; he was such a loving little kitten, always wanting to sleep in my lap. I sure was hoping somebody nice would get him. And I believe they did.
A man and his girlfriend came Thursday to get Tiger. He will be treated very well, I think--but they reeked of smoke. He’ll probably come down with lung cancer and die before his time. Ah, well... these things, we must bear... Saying hello, saying goodbye... (sniff, sniff) Tiger was carried around in someone’s arms most of the afternoon that last day, especially as the time drew nearer for his departure. The children miss him.
But I was glad those people decided to take him, because the only other call we got was from a woman who sounded as though she were a taw short of a marble set. In the background I could hear the natives dancing and shouting around a missionary in a boiling pot. (Well, that’s what it sounded like, anyway.) I would have NEVER given that kitten to them. NEVER! They’d have been dancing and shouting around TIGER in a boiling pot, next. Poor Tiger would have been utterly bewildered if he were thrown into the midst of that mess.
One afternoon, Hester, Lydia, Caleb, and Victoria were doing the dishes. Victoria likes to take care of the silverware. She was once found diligently licking each spoon before she placed it carefully in the drawer. Upon being questioned as to what in the world she was doing, she replied with eyes ever so big, “I was dust (just) tasting them, because they’re so cold.”
Meanwhile, Hannah was washing clothes, and the couch was piled high with clothes that needed to be put away. It wasn’t long before I realized there was absolutely no sound of clanking dishes or silverware; instead, there was a recital going on--Hester and Lydia were together reciting the words to their song, Early In The Morning, which they were going to sing with the Jr. Choir for Easter, during the Sunrise Service. We practiced it Thursday evening, and Friday evening, too. Susan likes to have practice on Friday night instead of Saturday night, the night before Easter, since everyone must get up extra early Easter morning. It’s always nice to have the Jr. Choir sing at that early service, so that some of us old fogies don’t have to try to crank a decent sound out of half-asleep voice boxes.
Just as the recital was winding down, Caleb began singing, “We’re done with the dishes,” to the tune of The Fight is On; but his sisters informed him, “No, there’s still room in the dishwasher for more,” which brought his song to a premature end.
The children did not have school Thursday, Friday, or Monday. Teddy and Joseph went off to the shop each day, leaving at about 10:00 a.m., after a rip-roaring game with the kittens, during which time they gave valiant endeavor to waking the dead. But then, Joseph can wake the dead just by putting his shoes on. (Clomp! Clomp! Clomp-clomp! Clomp! Clomp-bang-crash-clomp!)
While the boys were at the shop, Joseph picked up the phone to dial the weather, and Teddy, quicker’n a wink, raced into the office, picked up the other phone, and dialed our home phone number. Joseph then dialed the weather number... which of course didn’t register, since the other number was already in the works.
Hannah answered our phone. “Hello?”
And Joseph said, “Uh...” “!” “Errrr... whozis?” --while in the background, Teddy said, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Brothers.
Hester’s dress is done, and Lydia’s is about half done. After I finish hers, I will start remodeling Hannah’s gown. (smooth smooth smooth) (I had to take a moment to smooth my hair back down; it stood straight up on end when I mentioned that wedding dress.)
The Schwan man came Thursday afternoon, and I was so hungry, I bought so much food it would hardly fit into the freezer. We need to defrost it. There is more frost than food in there, I think.
That afternoon, Caleb was pulling Victoria on the rug from our front hallway, and they were both giggling their heads off. He tried cutting the corner a little too sharp; but, being in his sock feet, he slipped and fell flat.
Victoria, trying not to laugh, and doing a poor job of it, said, “Are you (tee hee hee) okay?! (hee hee)”
And Caleb replied, “Yes! (hee hee hee) I’d better not do that again! (hahaha)”
It was past Victoria’s naptime, and when she is tired, things get funnier... and funnier... and funnier...
Guess what happened Wednesday in western Nebraska: a big snowstorm! Some people get all the fun.
One evening we were reading together the story of when all the disciples forsook Jesus and fled. The disciples followed “afar off”--which is never the way to follow Jesus. Peter next stood with some wicked people around the fire, warming himself--and, before he knew it, he was sitting with them. And it was not long before he denied the Lord. I read the verse in Psalms 1:1: “Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.” You see how there is a downward spiral.
But as soon as Peter denied Jesus the third time, the “cock crew”, and then the Lord turned and looked at Peter. We know a song called He Tenderly Looked at Me; it is a beautiful song. Anyway, the Lord’s look, and the remembrance of His great love for Peter, consumed Peter with remorse, and “he went out and wept bitterly.”
After the resurrection, Peter was never the same again. From that day forward, he walked closely with the Lord, and was willing to let the Lord lead him. But he was also filled with a new courage--a courage that would not fail him, as his own natural courage had done. We read about Jesus’ interrogation, and how he answered not a word, and then we read the verses in I Peter 2:19-25, how if we are “buffeted” for our faults and take it patiently, humbly, meekly, --well, that’s just what we ought to do. However, if we suffer when we have done right, and take it patiently, then we will have a wonderful reward, for the Lord will repay us richly.
Victoria wanted to know why bad people would kill Jesus on a day like Easter. Funny little dear... but then, it was the Passover when they committed their vile deed!
Bobby and Hannah and Hester came home about then, and we had a short break... and then read a bit from Laura Ingalls Wilder’s book, Little House in the Big Woods.
Friday evening I practiced with the Senior Choir. I sing alto with the choir. We sang He Could Have Called Ten Thousand Angels for the evening service Sunday. There were six special songs. It takes a lot of time to get them all practiced to perfection...or, as close to perfection as we can get them... but it is indeed an enjoyable, wonderful time. Easter--the Christian’s highlight of the year.
One time we overslept on an Easter afternoon nap. I suddenly awoke to the noise of a diesel -- a car pulling into the church parking lot. It was time for church. And there I was, just scrambling out of the feathers.
I leaped out of bed, dashed headlong for the phone, called my nephew Kelvin’s wife, Rachel, to ask her to play the piano for me. I then raced into Teddy’s room, where I’d hung my new Easter duds, which fortunately I’d already ironed. I flung open the door and snapped on the light, frightening the baby out of his wits.
I exclaimed, “I’m late! Daddy will get you in a minute!” and I rushed back out again. (And he was the child with the large eyes to begin with.)
I got ready, traveling at twice the speed of light, and managed to walk into the church sanctuary just as Rachel seated herself at the piano. She turned and looked at me, as I walked at a running pace up the aisle (or perhaps I ran at a walking pace; I’m not sure which), while 250 pairs of eyes stared at me... at her... at me... at her... She went on looking at me... I smiled at her... She smiled back… Then she rose elegantly and walked back to her pew, while I inelegantly scrambled onto the piano bench in such a gigantic hurry that I nearly slid right off the other side and into the plant holders. Snatching wildly at the ivories, I adroitly saved myself at the very most lastest minute.
With that, I commenced playing. Luckily, Rachel had written the numbers of the songs they (she and the organist) had decided to play on a little piece of paper, and stuck it to the song rack. Larry managed to arrive at church with four little kids in tow, some two or three songs later. They’d had their supper power-propelled down them, and were all dressed in their new Easter clothes--all but one, who wound up in his “home” (as opposed to church) clothes, as Lydia used to say. That was Teddy, who was in his home clothes. Fortunately, it was a fairly cute pair of britches, a halfway decent shirt, and he even had his church shoes on (on top of a pair of home socks).
Once my hands stopped shaking from that frenzied, frantic rush to get to church on time, I actually began recognizing the song I was playing.
One time a man in my father’s first church got to his feet and began giving a testimony. He commenced with royal pomposity, “I’ve been all over these 48 states and part of Philadelphia.” (Did he think Philadelphia was a new territory?) (I’m not sure why the Late-For-Easter-Evening-Service-Story reminded me of that.)
Larry rode a motorcycle home from the shop Friday evening, one he’d taken on trade some time ago. The children were elated. It had been in storage for four or five years, and therefore would not run. But he cleaned it, fixed it up, put a new gizmo in the swixterzizz-zazz, and then it ran. So tonight he was giving the children rides on it. Why do children so love motorcycle rides? I know I did…(and someday I shall tell you the story about my father’s motorcycle…and my brother’s motorcycle…and the ride I took…)
Saturday, we went shopping for socks and shoes and various sundry needs. One of the very necessary things we got was a brush for Tad. Already, his beautiful long fur is getting little snarls in it. And, while standing in the pet aisle, we couldn’t help ourselves--we got a couple packages of toys for our cute little kitten, too. I was hoping we could go to Grand Island to look for a suit for Teddy, and then go on to the Platte River to take pictures of whatever waterfowl happen to still be lingering about. But we didn’t, because Larry had to finish a pickup for a customer, and I decided not to, myself, because we really didn’t need to, after all, having found what we needed in Columbus. Teddy will need a new suit for Bobby and Hannah’s wedding; so perhaps we can go soon.
Perhaps we will see some ducks and geese, for there are still hundreds to be found. When the Sandhill crane population is at its peak as they migrate through, there are three-quarters of a million, easily. Some of the waterfowl stay and nest here--the wood duck being one example. Wood ducks are so pretty, but they are very shy, and hard to get close enough to, to take a decent picture. I need a duck blind built onto a canoe, so I can float on rivers and lakes and take pictures of all sorts of sandpipers and cranes and herons and egrets and geese and ducks and otters and deer and raccoon. I’d probably get all engrossed in taking a picture, lean too far out of the blind... and-- SPLOOOOOOOOSH!--I’d capsize.
Sunrise Service began at 6:00 a.m. I set my alarm for 4:15 a.m.--but for some reason, it didn’t go off, and we overslept till 5:15, when Larry woke me by saying calmly, “What time did you want to get up?”
I sat bolt upright and stared at the clock. Yipe! “An hour ago!” I yelped. “Get up!”
He got up. He even got up hurriedly.
The Jr. Choir was supposed to sing, soon after the service began! Hester, Lydia, and I could not be late.
And so we weren’t. In fact, the entire Jackson family arrived on time. We looked a little shell-shocked, but we were there. And thank goodness for hats!--Hats cover a multitude of sins. Or hairs.
I like walking (well, running, almost, this time) across the street to church so early in the morning, the sun just starting to turn the eastern sky rosy, and birds of all kinds warbling from every tree.
After the service ends, at about 7:00 a.m., we have a breakfast of ham and eggs and rolls and doughnuts and milk and orange juice, with coffee or tea to wash it all down.
I took the children’s pictures before Sunday School; and after church, I took quite a few pictures there. That is the service where people are in their very best clothes--the little girls are swathed in ruffles and lace, and the little boys are polished and sporting new suits and ties and shiny shoes.
Keith and Esther, and Bobby, came for dinner. Esther brought a couple of scrumptious coconut cream pies. We decided to have a seven-layer salad, peas, cottage cheese, and pears--a lighter-than-usual Sunday meal, on account of all the food we’d already eaten at church, and all the food we were planning to eat after the evening service.
The lunch after the evening service consists of leftovers from breakfast--but the eggs always get themselves deviled somehow. I took a lot of pictures, and Bobby took some video footage with a video camera someone loaned to us.
Another Easter over and past…time is flying! Two months from today is Hannah’s wedding.
Yipe! Let me back at that sewing machine!
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