Would you believe, a set of World Books is $850, and neither Funk and Wagnalls nor Grolier were any better. Dorcas found a small part of a set at the Salvation Army, but I wanted a whole set, preferably printed in A.D. (as opposed to B.C.).
I gave up on encyclopedias and went to visit Mama, taking with me a letter she’d received from an old friend of hers who lives in Plattesmouth, Nebraska, where Daddy’s first church was. The lady had sent a picture of herself and written a nice letter. Mama was pleased. She wasn’t feeling well that day, probably on account of the milk of magnesia she had been given in the morning. But she did walk a little bit, holding the arms of the nurses.
Since Mama has been on antibiotics, and the kidney infection has improved, she is back to her normal self as far as remembering goes, and she is certainly happy about that.
One day I was washing all my bedding, and everything smelled so good...and then I accidentally washed a shirt of Joseph’s with my softest blanket--and the shirt had form oil on it. The blanket did not smell very fresh after that. Humbug! I didn’t notice until I had the bed nearly remade, and I didn’t want to rewash the blanket, so I sprinkled Sweet Honesty powder all over it. Hmmm... reckon anybody will wonder why Larry goes to work each morning smelling of Sweet Honesty?
Well, it’s better than form oil. I think all the wives of men in construction should form an assemblage and converge on the company that manufactures form oil and force them to make the stuff smell like lilacs, or vanilla, or wild musk, or something. Sweet Honesty, maybe.
One night after everyone went to bed, I went to Ampride to fill the Suburban with gas. I continued on to UnSmart Foods for groceries, and then to the post office to mail some letters. I made a deposit at the bank, paid a couple of bills, and rushed back home again. I pulled into the garage, jumped out, got a couple bags of groceries out of the back--and then I smelled gas.
Furthermore, I had no recollection of putting the gas cap back on. I pulled open the flap... Sure enough. No gas cap. Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I climbed back into the Suburban and headed for Ampride. But by then, it had been an hour and fifteen minutes since I’d put gas in, so I thought that even if my gas cap was still there, it would most likely have been run over and squished flatter’n a pancake. I pulled in, looking all over the parking lot for anything that remotely resembled a gas cap. There was nothing.
I went into the store and asked the clerk if anyone had turned in a gas cap.
Anyone who does such a thing as ask about missing gas caps should really get special points for humility. If a person wasn’t humble before he asked such a question, he most certainly will be after asking, because the clerk and everyone in the store will stare at him with visages clearly expressing their disdain for his stupidity. After all!--none of them has ever done such a half-witted thing.
No one had seen a gas cap.
I departed. And then, as I was pulling from the station, I saw it: a gas cap, right smack-dab in the middle of the street. I leaped out of the Suburban and ran to get it, braving cars, pickups, other large SUVs, 18-wheelers, and small jets making emergency landings on the roadway.
Whew! I tell you, the last thing I would ever want to do would be to lose the gas cap, because not long ago Teddy lost it, and I called him a fleabrain, and didn’t let him soon forget it. Imagine the humiliation I would suffer, should he learn of my delinquency.
And don’t you dare tell him, either.
I returned home, put the last freshly-dried cover on the bed--which didn’t even cause Larry to stir--and went to bed.
(By the way, I made absolute positive certain sure that I didn’t wash any work shirts or jeans with that bedcover.) (Oh, and the Sweet Honesty did the trick: the bedding all smells fresh and agreeable.) (So does Larry. Honest.)
Tuesday I called Goodwills and Salvation Armies in Norfolk, Fremont, and Grand Island, hunting for encyclopedias. I finally found a set at the Goodwill in Grand Island--and the lady said they were $10.00. I also found an Animal Kingdom encyclopedia set at Bargains Galore here in town. I grabbed my purse, the children snatched bottles of water, and we went to buy encyclopedias.
At Bargains Galore, the lady gave me the large box full of not only the Animal Kingdom set, but also an entire set of Golden Book Encyclopedias for Children
, along with half a dozen other big animal books--for only $5.00.
, along with half a dozen other big animal books--for only $5.00.We rushed off to Grand Island. There was a thunderstorm just southwest of Columbus, and the lightning bolts seemed to be striking right in front of our noses. It was something to behold! It didn’t last long, just enough to give the Suburban a good wash job; and it was sunny in Grand Island. The sign on the bank in Central City said it was 98°.
We not only got the encyclopedias, but also a whole volley of other books, including a thin book from Moody Bible Institute with a $5.00 price tag. I couldn’t bear to leave it behind, in spite of its price. I wonder why they charged that much for it? I should think it would not be that valuable to them. I also found an old hymnbook.
I got two pairs of shoes, several sweaters for Victoria (which she tries to wear every day regardless of the heat), several shirts for Caleb, and many stuffed animals--brand new--that we will save for Christmas presents.
Victoria was pleased with the little music-player we got her. On the way home, she’d play a song, I’d whistle along with it, and then she’d suddenly push the button to make it start a new song, and my whistle would sputter to a stop, and Caleb and Victoria both would go into peals of laughter. We could have continued this jolly game all the way home, I think, except my whistler gave up the ghost, more’s the pity.
We stopped at the Bernina Sewing Store in Central City to look for glass-headed steel pins. They didn’t have any. The lady who owns the store gave me brochures about the new Berninas. My Bernina, which I wouldn’t trade or sell for any amount of money, is 24 years old--and it works perfectly. The top of the line sewing machine costs $4,900.00. I wouldn’t like it; one cannot adjust bobbin tension. The one I would probably want, if I was wanting new sewing machines, sells for $2,300.00. I decided to go home and oil my machine, and the only thing we purchased were several handfuls of Boston baked beans from the candy dispenser, compliments of Hester and Lydia.
As we continued toward home, we approached the same storm we had left behind earlier in the day. We heard on the radio that there was a tornado nearing Burwell. Shortly after arriving home, we went to visit Mama. As I was relating the day’s activities to her, she asked about the weather.
I mentioned the tornado that was probably over Burwell right that very moment.
“Oh!” exclaimed Mama, suddenly concerned, “That’s where Loren and Janice are!”
We all spent the next couple of hours thinking of nothing else but the tornado in Burwell. I was relieved when I finally heard on the radio that the tornado had caused some damage on a farm near the town, but no one had been injured.
Next time, I will not mention inclement weather in the Sandhills to my mother, until I know Loren and Janice are safe!
Joseph was sick Tuesday, and stayed home from work. Maybe it was just as well, because it was horribly hot. A couple of the men got too hot and didn’t feel well. One of them could hardly walk or talk, and had to go home early. Larry said they were all putting handfuls of ice chips from the big cooler under their hats and dousing themselves with water.
One day, the children borrowed some ‘Little Rascals’ videos from the library. They are so funny...the baby, Spanky, is absolutely hilarious.
One evening at bedtime, Larry found Socks curled up sound asleep on his side of the bed.
“Here, kitty-kitty,” he crooned with saccharine sweetness, and, picking the cat up gently, he laid him back down on my side of the bed.
“Hey!” I protested, “Why didn’t you put him at the foot of the bed?!”
Larry gasped and made a shocked face. “Why, he’d get to thinking he was Little Jimmy Dickins!” he said in horror.
Little Jimmy Dickins, who barely clears five feet in height, once sang a song about how his always having to sleep at the foot of the bed when company came visiting caused his growth to be stunted, and ‘gave him puny ways’.
Wednesday Joseph was still sick, mainly on account of a bad toothache. That tooth has been abscessed for over a year now, and the dentist will not do a root canal on it until it is completely grown in. I think it’s that tooth that is causing him to be sick so often.
That afternoon Hannah brought Aaron over to show us his cute little outfit, along with the little socks Victoria had given him when he was born. There is a bat sewn onto one, a baseball on the other.
Victoria beamed. “They fit him now! Oh, isn’t he cute?!”
I went to see Mama at 5:00; she was eating her supper. Well, that is, they had brought her supper to her...perhaps she had eaten a couple of bites, no more.
I stayed home from church with Caleb, who was sick all day. The others had not long been gone before Caleb was curled up in a big chair in the living room, fast asleep. That night he had troubles with asthma, and had to use his inhaler.
Thursday, the eye doctor from Grand Island called to tell us that he had to attend a funeral on Saturday; therefore he would be leaving a little before 3:00, and if we wished to see him, we would have to arrive not much later than 2:30. I said we would try, and that evening I told Joseph that he must get off work early on Saturday, as we would not leave any later than 1:15.
“No problem,” nodded Larry with confident assurance, “I have an appointment for a haircut at 12:20, so I’ll be there.”
‘Ha,’ I thought quietly to myself.
“Ha,” I said out loud, not being one to waste significant private thoughts on no one but myself.
The children laughed. Larry scowled.
I went to see Mama, and then went to the grocery store for dressing and mashed potatoes to go with the chicken I was baking. I came home and fixed it--in a hot, hot kitchen over a hot, hot stove, and then we took it all to hot, hot Pawnee Park.
We stopped at the hospital on the way to give Mama some Yoplait yogurt from Lura Kay. It’s the only kind of yogurt she likes, and she used to eat it every evening before she went to bed. She’s been on antibiotics ever since she entered the hospital three weeks ago, so yogurt is something she doubtless needs.
But she didn’t want it, so I put it on the air conditioner vent beside her to keep it cool. I hoped she would eat it before bedtime...but I really doubt if she did.
At the park, we saw the baby mallard ducklings I had taken pictures of a couple of months ago when they were fluffy little yellow balls. Now they are almost as big as adults (adult ducks, that is), and have their bright blue speculum feathers. The males will not get their shiny green heads until next spring or summer, I think. But...when I took pictures of them the first time, there were nine. Now there are only six. No parents were in sight; perhaps the mother was hiding somewhere. The parents are wild ducks; but the babies, having grown up near humans all their lives--humans who were picnicking, into the bargain--are quite tame. They ate apple peels and chicken skins right out of the children’s hands while I took videos.
Larry and the children played with their scooters--and Victoria had a dreadful crash and skinned up the side of her face.
“It was sure lots of fun anyway,” she assured me happily.
On the way home from the park, the battery light on the Suburban came on. The lights on the dash were flickering and threatening to go out, and the song on the tape player went slower and slower...and slooower... Larry turned off the headlights--fortunately, it was still fairly light out--and the air conditioner, and pulled into a parking lot to look at the battery and ascertain nothing was about to catch on fire.
It was the alternator going bad; we’d thought it was about to. We made it home okay, and Larry said he would put a new alternator on it the next day; all the parts stores were closed by then.
Each night this week, I have been mending clothes. Early Friday morning, I looked at the huge pile of clothes I had finished, and was feeling quite proud of myself--and then I turned around and saw the pile of clothes that still needed to be mended.
Aaarrrggghhh!!! There’s no end!!!
Ah, well...I really don’t mind mending; in fact, after a day of working in the basement, hauling heavy things up and down the stairs, I am glad enough to have something to do where I only have to sit at my sewing desk and listen to my CD player.
Joseph, not knowing about the faulty alternator, and probably assuming the little battery light glowing on the dash was merely to inform him that there was, indeed, a battery under the hood, drove the Suburban to the dentist’s office Friday morning. Amazingly enough, he not only made it there, but he also made it back home again. The dentist merely deadened the tooth for him.
Joseph, upon arriving home, and feeling better, rode his bike out to David’s shop then (his car hasn’t been running right, did I mention that?)...but it was not long before the deadener (is that a word?) wore off. By the time he came home, he was in pain. Dr. Kumpf thinks the tooth will be sufficiently grown in by September that he can do a root canal. Sooo...Joseph must suffer for at least two more months...and then have a root canal. Aaaauuuggghhh. Makes my teeth hurt, just thinking about it.
Mama only weighed 68 pounds Friday morning. The nurses are all very concerned, and leave her food trays in her room for over an hour, telling her to keep nibbling on the food. And that’s all she does: nibble.
My nephew Robert went to see her that morning, and one of the nurses spotted him, nabbed him before he got to Mama’s room, and asked if he knew of anything she might like to eat. They plan to have a dentist come next week to check her teeth...I don’t know if that will be soon enough. A person can’t live on nothing more than Mama eats.
When I went that afternoon, my niece Susan was there, and had brought a couple of covered dishes, one of which was chicken broth with those yummy frozen noodles. (Er, that is, they were not still frozen; Susan had cooked them, you know.) Mama sent it back home with her, saying she just couldn’t eat it. She feels sick when she eats. Her pain pill was making her sick; she isn’t used to taking such a big dose; so the doctor cut it in half, and she felt a little better.
She was pleased that she had received a letter from her sister Ruth that day.
Friday is one of the days the nurses normally give Mama a whirlpool bath, but she was so weak, they didn’t do it. She barely had enough strength to laugh over the lady down the hall who often shouts the funniest things--and that day was periodically bellowing, “Somebody’s on television!” which was better than what she was bawling the day before: “Somebody needs to empty the spittoon!”
I have now started cleaning Joseph and Caleb’s room. I thought it would be a simple matter of sorting and putting their clothes away.
So much for that silly notion.
It turns out, the water from Hester and Lydia’s room had seeped under the wall into Joseph and Caleb’s closet, and then on into part of their room. So they, too, have musty, mildewed clothes, and things with rust stains on them from hangers. And of course they didn’t know, because the clothes were deep enough that the mess was well buried. Oh, help. Help and bother!
All the shoes in the closet are ruined; I carried out many garbage bags full of shirts, shoes that Caleb could have someday worn, and--worst of all--suits. I will take a few of the suits to the cleaners; but a good many of them were demolished beyond reclamation. Once the clothes were off the floor (on that side of the room, at least), I cut and pulled up the carpeting.
In case you are wondering just how this is properly done, I will tell you: simply jerk the carpeting out from under the furniture with all your might and main, and the furniture will land right back in its original spot like magic, Voilá, abracadabra. Hester and Lydia are not the only ones who will be getting new flooring, it seems.
On the shelf in Joseph’s closet, I had once placed stack after stack of jeans--and I’d patched any that needed it. Not long ago, I told Joseph to get down the stack of size 8’s, since Caleb was growing out of his 7’s.
I should have done it myself. Joseph, probably on account of both haste and shortness, had managed to pull down almost every last pair of jeans on that shelf--and there were a lot. They all must be washed. AAARRRGGGHHH!!! Sooo...I began washing jeans. Any shirts on the bottom closet bar--Joseph has the top bar, Caleb the bottom--whose shirttails or sleeves touched the floor must be washed.
I tell you, it was easier to simply light the place afire. (One must be cautious about re-enacting such a stunt too soon after the first undertaking; fire marshals can be unnervingly suspicious blokes, and they rarely understand the subtle nuances of rigorous, whole-house cleaning as opposed to, say, light feather-dusting.)
Caleb watched as I carried an armload of stuffed toys from his room, a good many of which were Dalmatians. He looked them over after I set them in the shelf room.
“I sure have a lot of Dalmatians,” he remarked reflectively. He pointed them out. “That little one is Spotty, his mama over there (he gestured vaguely) is Spot, and his daddy (he pointed at the biggest dog) is Spots.” He giggled that funny little giggle of his. “And he has a brother named Spotter, and a sister named Spottilda.”
Victoria laughed. “And is his uncle Spotto, and his aunt Spotta?” she queried.
Eh? What’sziss? Is Victoria learning Spanish? (Tio and Tia = uncle and aunt.)
Caleb was still counting his One Hundred and One Dalmatians. “Do you think I’ve been collecting them?” he asked, “Because I’ve just about got a collection!”
Speaking of collections, Hester has been worrying about the bug collection she must get together for seventh-grade science class. Her worries are over: we have two first-class, A-one bug hunters on the premises--Kitty and Socks. Friday night, Socks brought a hummingbird moth in the window and commenced to letting it go and then chasing it all over the house, skidding and sliding and knocking stuff around, until I captured the moth and put it into the freezer.
Socks stared at me reproachfully and went out the window.
It was not long before he was back inside, this time with a cicada. The cicada joined the moth in the freezer, and I rewarded Socks with a small piece of lunchmeat for his efforts. He purred and went back out the window.
He soon returned--and he had another cicada. I put it into the freezer and gave the cat a little piece of cheese. He purred.
In the meanwhile, Larry put a new alternator into the Suburban, and then put two new injectors into Joseph’s Isuzu Stylus. Voilá again! Two vehicles, as good as new.
Later that night, when I took out some bags of garbage, I caught a couple of June bugs and a big black beetle, and then I threw in a fat slug for good measure. Ewww. Yuck. Do you realize, this is the sixth time I’ve helped one of my children make an insect collection?!
Ah, well...three more to go, and we’ll be done. Um, unless I get involved helping a grandchild or two with his or her bug collections... ;~)
Larry and Joseph came home at about 1:20 P.M. Saturday, needing to take showers before we left...and Larry had missed his appointment for a haircut.
Ha!
They were ready to go by 1:30, and we decided to try it. I was elected driver, on account of the fact that Larry was tired. So I pretended there were no such things as patrolmen, radar, or tickets, and I drove.
I have now decided that I am going to be a Senator when I grow up, in order that I may draft a law and attempt to get it passed--and I’ll just betcha anything I could do it, too, because I’ll just betcha anything I’m not the only one who wishes such a law were on the books.
It is this: red vans should not be allowed to drive behind white cars, for the reason that drivers of oncoming cars think they are meeting patrol cars. And that’s not fair. It oughta be illegal! I’ll just betcha anything the drivers of those white cars and red vans I met on the roads are still pondering why a certain teal green Suburban they encountered suddenly performed a headstand (or a ‘bumperstand’, as it were) before it resumed its barreling pace. Nevertheless, in spite of reprehensible red vans behind white cars, I made it to Grand Island in record time, without one solitary pit stop, which is a feat in itself.
It was ten till three when I wheeled to a stop in front of the entrance to the mall, immediately inside of which is LensCrafters.
“Bail out!” I cried. “Hurry!”
Joseph slowly and calmly extricated himself from his seat and sauntered toward the door.
“What’s the delay?!” I yelped out the window. “Go!!”
He upped his pace by a micromillitempo.
I parked the Suburban, and we all climbed out into the 105° weather and went into the mall. Wonder of wonders, Joseph was even right at that moment being seen by the doctor, who had not left yet. Whew! Soon he was done, and had been given a supply of the disposable contacts he needed.
The first order of business was to head for a convenience store. I wanted a granola bar, because I’d forgotten to eat breakfast, and I was half starved half to death. I ordered an oats and honey, with a side of chocolate milk. Larry and Joseph went into the store, which happened to be a small Sapp Bros.--and they sell Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
I got the granola bar all right, but those doughnuts obliterated all thoughts of chocolate milk. They bought a dozen doughnuts. I vented my indignation by ‘tasting’ no less than three of them. And I ‘tasted’ them so well, mind you, that there was only half a doughnut left of two of ’em. The third one I merely took one bite from because the most dismal thing happened: I got full.
“I’b dub wish by grabola bar!” announced Victoria, sounding a wee bit gluey around the chops.
“You might wait until you swallow before you say so,” I admonished her.
“Mmmm-hmmm,” she replied, closing her mouth and looking properly admonished.
I looked at her face. That is, I looked at what I could see of her face. “How in the world do you get so many crumbs all over your face?!” I inquired.
Victoria lifted one shoulder and raised her palm upwards. Her eyebrows rose, and she shook her head. “I don’t know!” she responded. “Bad crumbs, bad crumbs.”
That little goofus.
We went to the Goodwill, and I bought quite a few crystal snack plates with matching cups, some with clusters of grapes and leaves on them, some in the shape of apples; a pile of stuffed toys; and several necklaces. I buy only those items that appear to be brand new, and I plan to give them away for Christmas. When I am done cleaning the basement-- maybe the entire house--I will wrap presents and write Christmas cards.
On our way back home, Larry turned toward Bellwood, Octavia, and Linwood, and we drove around in the bluffs again. He showed us where David’s crew has been working this week, pouring the walls for a big hog barn. We stopped at McDonald’s in Schuyler for ice cream cones, and then headed for home. It was much too hot to go to any park and let the children play; it was so hot it was hard to breathe.
Dorcas went with Amy to Fremont that afternoon; Amy wanted to shop for Teddy’s birthday present. They went to the Goodwill there, and Dorcas bought--can you guess? More clothes. Just what we need. More clothes.
She also bought me a dictionary--hardback, like I’d been wanting. Unfortunately, its copyright is 1956. It thinks such a thing as a ‘computer’ is ‘a person who computes’. And then I noticed: in the boxes of encyclopedias I’d just purchased was...a big, fat, two-volume set of the World Book Dictionary! Wheeeee!!! I’m extraordinarily pleased as punch. I hadn’t even noticed them!
Saturday night my washing machine gave up the ghost. That is, it will no longer spin. If you wish to get into a weight-lifting regimen, I can tell you the perfect system: simply wash a load of jeans, but do not let them spin. Immediately after the washing machine drains, get the jeans out. Now do whatever it is you would like to do with them (run them through a ringer and hang them; fold them and put them into drawers, still wet; tell the menfolk they can just wear them that way, as they will be much cooler); the hard part is over. You will find it hard to believe how heavy a big pile of wet jeans is!
Kitty, not one to let Socks get the better of her, meowed at the door tonight--and when I let her in, she dashed into the kitchen, and soon I heard a familiar scrabbling noise under the table. Sure enough, it was a cicada. Now, if we could teach those cats to practice a little variation: ‘Get a different kind this time, please, puss,’--and back they’d come then, with a walking stick.
Socks, in his everlasting endeavors to be unique, then brought something in that topped all: a small garter snake. Aauugghh.
Bobby and Hannah, baby Aaron, and Amy came for dinner today; Keith and Esther had invited some friends to their house for dinner, so they didn’t come. For dinner we had Zesty Italian hamburger helper; a big chef salad complete with broccoli, green pepper, cauliflower, cherry tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, hard-boiled eggs, cracker-style croutons, bacon bits, and taco cheese; applesauce; buttermilk biscuits; and vanilla ice cream.
Larry, Hester, Caleb, Victoria, and I went to see Mama at 3:00 this afternoon. She was sleeping, so we went for a little drive around the pretty houses north of Loren’s house, then went back to the hospital at 3:30. She was awake by then, and she told us that Loren had told her about the tornado near Burwell when he and Janice were there.
He called on the farmer whose place was hit by the tornado the very next day, and the man told how, as he and his family were rushing into their ‘cave’, as he called it--probably an outdoor underground cellar--they looked back and saw the tornado, black as the ace of spades, right behind them, and what appeared to be cows whizzing around in it. In fact, it was cows whizzing around in it. After the tornado had passed, they found they had lost twenty cows, and twenty more had to be put down because of injuries.
The Young People’s Choir sang ‘The Stranger of Galilee’ tonight, putting in all the extra parts. It was very pretty.
We are having quite the lightning and thunderstorm. Socks is not outside prowling about as he usually is. He was out a little bit ago, and then came a bolt of lightning that effectively put out all the street lights and made us squint, even inside the house. The thunder’s booming crash followed shortly, and not long thereafter came a thump-thump on the kitchen floor, heralding Socks’ arrival via the kitchen window. He is now lying under the footrest on Larry’s recliner, feeling quite safe. Let us hope Larry doesn’t suddenly prove him wrong by letting it down without looking!
Kitty came in with nothing but her rump wet. Even her tail was nearly dry. She must have been making like an ostrich somewhere, with her head and upper body under cover and her tail wrapped around her, but her behinder sticking out and exposed to the elements.
Bedtime! Well, first I think I shall see if anybody left me any chocolate fudge brownie frozen yogurt.
…
They did!!!
...
Why, thank you. Believe I will.
...
Mmmm... I’ll bet you wish you could have some... (slurrrp...) Mmmm...
P.S.: Monday, July 23: I have just returned from visiting Mama, and she is a little better. Saturday they stopped giving her the antibiotics they had been giving her for the last three weeks, and her appetite has gradually improved since then, and things taste better to her. Her voice was stronger, and she happily talked to us for almost an hour before I could see she was getting tired, so we told her goodnight and came home.
Some mothers live to the age of 100 or more. I sure wish my mother would! But I’m afraid that will never happen.
Anyway, as I have often said, I do hope I grow old as gracefully and sweetly as my mother has. She is very dear to me.
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