Okay, now that everyone is totally convinced that I have Alzheimer’s, since I repeated myself so many times in my last two letters, I shall set out to prove otherwise.
Uh… what was I talking about?
Eh?
Whozit?
Monday evening, when we were at Keith and Esther’s house, there was suddenly the most thunderous booming and banging...we all hastily looked to see what in the world it was--and there was Amanda (Larry’s brother’s little girl, age 3), jumping up and down with both feet on a large piece of bubble wrap--the kind with extra-big bubbles--dark hair flying, her face a picture of studious intent. Olivia, age 5, spotting that, rushed to help. Katharine, who just turned 1 and is walking nicely now, stared at her sisters in amazement. hee hee Funny little girls.
We went to Charles and Susan’s house Tuesday night. Larry was still sick with the flu, and couldn’t go. Goodness, everybody gives us too much stuff. Victoria wound up with three wonderful dolls…and she is delighted. How she loves those dolls!
I had big plans of making several pumpkin chiffon pies the day after Christmas; but it turned into Wednesday, and there were no pies anywhere to be seen. My kitchen just isn't animated enough--I actually have to go out there and do it myself, in order to get it done. Well…you want to know really why it didn't get done? It was because Larry brought home a late Christmas present for the whole family, that's why.
It was a new video player. You’ll recall that the old one got demolished--if truth be told, it self-destructed--when it got hungry and ate one of the public library's $89.00 videos. Larry tried to fix it (the player; not the video). He fell asleep over it quite a few times; but when he was finally awake enough to give it his very best shot, he determined that it was simply, in a word, unfixable. And if Larry thinks it's unfixable, then it probably is unfixable. Teddy had given us a set of videos for Christmas entitled "The War Years", and we'd been dying to see them... so tonight, when I should've been making pies and cleaning house or doing bookwork, we watched a couple of those videos. At least I managed to get a humungous stack of pictures put into one of my new photo albums...but who knows if everybody is right side up or upside down.
Wednesday evening, Dorcas went to Lawrence and Norma’s for one of her presents that had gotten misplaced. Norma sent back a big container with soup, another with cookies, and another with cinnamon rolls, and a package of fudge. That, after all the food we’d been consuming for the last few days! Aarrgghh. But we ate it, we sho’ ’nuff did.
My mother didn’t feel well this week. She says she feels strange, and is afraid she had a mini stroke a couple of nights ago. She couldn’t sleep, and said she just didn’t feel right. I think, when Christmas comes along, she gets all anxious and concerned over all the things she supposes she needs to do, but of course she is not able to get it all done--and she has not ever been the sort who likes to ask for help... And all the people coming to her house wear her to a frizzle frazzle. Also, she was worried over her brother--my Uncle Albert--in Minnesota, who had open heart surgery over the Christmas weekend. After the surgery was over, he had several light strokes.
Mama and I wound up exchanging Thomas Kinkade items: I gave her two small books, each with one of his paintings on one side of the page, a verse or poem on the other, and a box of cards. We also gave her the chenille ‘lapghan’--a smaller version of an afghan--Hannah crocheted. It turned out so soft and beautiful…Mama really liked it. She gave me a Thomas Kinkade calendar, a ceramic mug, and a square plate (for decorative purposes). Anyway, that wasn’t as bad as the year we exchanged identical bird books!--big coffee-table type books, with stunning photographs. At least we are assured that the other likes her gifts, yes?
Thursday, I finally made the pies…seven pumpkin chiffon pies. Wouldn’t you know, isn’t it always just the way, when a person is making it for somebody special, something always goes wrong. We had invited friends for supper Friday evening, a long-standing tradition, because the 29th of December is the man's birthday.
Sometimes we delay the birthday celebration for a couple of days, and they come on the 31st, and we ring in the New Year together. That is, we try…but there are those among us who conk out and are in Lala Land by the time midnight rolls around. (We won’t mention any names.) (No, it isn’t me.)
Now, seven pies are a lot less pies than I usually make. The purée was frozen. I put it into a big pan and turned the burner on low. Nevertheless, the stuff thawed out and started cooking a whole lot quicker than I expected. In the meanwhile, Teddy went off to the store to get more eggs. I started mixing the dough for the crust.
By the time Teddy returned, the pumpkin puree was almost boiling. Guess what happens when you drop 21 egg yolks into something hot, and don’t stir till you are all done putting them in. You make poached eggs, that's what. I added the spices and evaporated milk--and then there I was, picking cooked eggs out of the pumpkin mix…it tasted good, but I had not intended to serve my guests their breakfast--in the form of poached egg yolk--in the middle of the evening’s dessert. Aarrgghh!
Victoria thinks that the elastic pearl necklace I put on her today is a ‘turtlenecklace.’ Yesterday afternoon when Hannah came visiting, Victoria asked her to put a ‘pot’ in her hair. Huh? Wuzzat? After a bit of discussion, Hannah finally figured it out: Victoria wanted a bun in her hair. Funny little kiddo… An understandable error; after all!--both are kitchen appliances, aren’t they?
Hannah, discovering that I needed a few things from the store, offered to get them for me, since she was going to the store anyway…I took her up on the offer, and invited her and Bobby for supper. Then, "The more, the merrier," I thought, and called Esther and invited her and Keith, too. Suppers with your favorite people are extraordinarily enjoyable; have you ever noticed that particular phenomenon?
Not long after supper was over, a couple of friends of ours arrived. Now, I had been chatting with one of them on AmericaOnline Instant Messenger the previous week, when Dorcas came home--we always know it’s her, because of the rattling of the plastic bags… she’s been shopping. And she said, "Clothes are only $.50 at the Salvation Army."
I apologetically signed off, telling my friend, "I'm sorry, but I must go to the Salvation Army!" Then, when she made sad noises, I added, "Tell you what: I’ll buy you a pair of shoes."
I proceeded to describe the shoes: toes curled up, seams popping out at the side, heels all run down… and she said, said she, "I WANT those!" (Mind you, her shoes always look like they came from Saks Fifth Avenue Shoe Store.)
"You asked for it," I retorted, and typed: (evil grin)
When I arrived at the Salvation Army, with only half an hour to spare, lo and behold, there was Hannah. "Help me find those shoes--" (I gave her the details) "--quick!"
So we looked and looked… Now, usually, there are nothing but rather nasty shoes at the Salvation Army--but that day, when I wanted the nastiest pair I could find, there seemed to be nothing but nice new ones--I mean, they really were new, with original price tags, and all! Wal-Mart must’ve been in a donating mood.
And then I moved a pair of shoes at the front of the rack out of the way, and there they were--the exact shoes I’d described to my friend. And guess what? All shoes that day were 25¢ a pair. ("Ohhh, it wasn’t worth it; you paid too much," Esther later lamented; "you’d better return them and get a refund!" hee hee)
They were leather moccasins, made in Brazil, and looked as though they had been expensive shoes in their day. There were tiny tassels all the way around the heavily-overstitched toe, with small beads at the top of each tassel. Obviously, someone had really liked them--and they’d really liked them for a looooooooong, looooooooong time. Just as I’d said, the side seams were popping out, the soles were cracking in half, the heels were well worn off on the outer corners, and the toes were curled like elves’ shoes.
I took those shoes home and wrapped them in a box with a price tag of $69.99--each in its own pink tissue, just as if they’d come from Tudbury’s of London.
Saturday the children went sledding with Keith and some of their friends. It had warmed all the way up to 22°F, imagine that! ('Course, the wind chill was some 10° below zero, but who was worrying about a little thing like wind chill at a time like that.) Teddy took off his splint (it has Velcro holding it on), put a glove on his hand, and then put the splint back on.
"Ooooo," I cringed, "what if you fall?!” My hair stood up on end.
Teddy laughed. "I’ll be okay," he assured me, in the confident way of seventeen-year-olds everywhere.
They returned safely, just a little after 6:00--and Teddy’s splint was cracked, because he’d had a frightful crash and landed on it. His hand and finger were a little sore, "but mostly it’s just from being cold," he asserted casually.
Later, in an ‘oh, by the way’ manner, he remarked, "Actually, my head and neck are what hurts the most, because I landed on it so hard. The snow had a hard enough icy crust on top that we could walk on it--but when I landed, my head went through it."
I stopped what I was doing and turned to give him a good, first-class, thorough look. He grinned at me. "I’m okay," he said, "but I do think I am a couple of inches shorter."
And I do think my tail is a whole lot bushier.
Today we have a missionary, Norris Bailey, visiting. We have supported Rev. Bailey for 22 years now, and we love and respect him more every time we see him and listen to him preach. He is a missionary to the Philippines; and then in 1991 he was invited to work with the underground churches in Vietnam. He started working in Burma in 1994. He has been instrumental in starting over 300 Baptist churches in those countries. He is a wonderful man, inspiring to listen to, and it is easy to see why he is successful with the people of Southeast Asia.
He tells stories with both compassion and humor, and we love to have him come. This morning he told how the primitive Mangyan Tribes often have little to eat, other than the jungle foods they find: roots, porcupines, snails, snakes, birds, insects, field corn, rice, and rats. But they love sardines, and consider it a real delicacy. They are ever so appreciative for donations and gifts such as flashlights (they have no electricity), Neosporin and bandages, tablespoons, plastic plates, salt (some tribal people have never tasted it in their entire lives), Tylenol, and used eyeglasses.
These people have cultures far removed from society as we know it… They have no soap, and they don’t take baths--well, other than splashing around a bit in the river, that is. However, as I said, they love sardines. They love the flavor. They love the smell. So… when they receive large cans of water-packed sardines, they eat the sardines, and then pour the water out onto their heads, and let it run down their bodies.
Wâllä! Voilá! Chañel #5¡ Fabêrgé¡ Hõubìgänt Mûsk¡ Täbu¡ Pèârls & £á¢e¡ Ôld §pïce¡ Casmìr¡ Vañilla ƒiëlds¡ Dräkkâr Nõír¡ Xêrÿüs¡ B¥zåntine¡ Bürberrÿ¡ Blaçk Pærl¡ Ahhhh.
Rev. Bailey showed us some slides this morning, and then gave a sermon whose text started with Romans 16:1: "For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth…" I love that verse; it’s one of my favorites.
Now here’s Victoria, hopping around the living room, playing with her beanie baby cats, and sing-songing, "Lamborghini, Lamborghini, Lamborghini, lalala!" (I wonder: is that the new word of the week?)
Keith and Esther are here, and they’ve brought doughnuts. Put in a video, break out the chocolate raspberry coffee! We have a New Year to usher in!
ka-BLAM-BLOOEY!!!
(That was Joseph, lighting off fireworks on the front porch.)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.