Monday, October 8, 2001 - Adopting Tabby, Blunderbusses, & Half-Cocked Flags

Last Monday, Dorcas took the tan cat to the vet; he gave him his shots and kept him overnight in order to turn him into a neither/nor.  He also gave him some antibiotic ointment for his eyes.  Dorcas paid the entire bill, and then informed everybody that he was her cat.  She named him ‘Tabby’.

By the way, the ‘cardinal’ that Tabby ate in my mother’s window box wasn’t really a cardinal after all:  it was a pyrrhuloxia.  It is normally found in the southwest United States and northern Mexico; he must have been migrating, and taken up with a few resident cardinals (they are members of the same family, and are appointed by the pope) around the neighborhood.  So now we are all the sadder that Tabby utilized him for dinner fare (the pyrrhuloxia, not the pope).  It’s the first time we’ve ever seen one in Nebraska (a pyrrhuloxia, not a pope) (well, I haven't ever seen a pope in Nebraska, either, come to think of it).

Well, perhaps Tabby will be more discerning about his snacks in the future, since he is now on a diet of Kit ’N Kaboodle.  Teddy gave him a bath Friday night, and he is all soft and cuddly and his fur smells ever so good.  So of course we’ve all been holding him and petting him more than usual, and he has very definitely decided he is our cat.

Monday afternoon, the littles and I went to Pawnee Park, where I printed my letter.  Hester and Caleb brought their homework.  But we only stayed there an hour because those horrid little black bugs Hannah once named ‘jet bugs’, on account of their shape (and we’ve called them that ever since), were out by the gazillion, and biting like crazy.  Aaauuuggghhh!

Dorcas bought a cat carrier and went to pick up her cat Tuesday morning.  Now, we wondered...how would Tabby and Socks get along?

Joseph, after being sick for nearly a week, finally went to school Wednesday.  He came home, went straight to bed, and then managed to go to church that night--but he was too sick to go back to school the rest of the week.  So Thursday I decided, “Something must done for this boy!” and I called Butler County Clinic.

Wonder of wonders, there was an opening with Dr. Luckey himself----that very afternoon.  It is practically unheard of to see him without an appointment scheduled at least two weeks in advance.  So, at 4:30, there we were, in David City.  Lydia, Caleb, and Victoria came along and played at the park.

The doctor gave Joseph a thorough checkup, including blood tests, and found he has a bacterial infection in the intestines.  He is anemic, too.  His red blood count is way down, the white count way up.  Dr. Luckey gave us a prescription for antibiotics with sulfa, and another prescription that is supposed to help  inflammation and soothe the digestive system (or something like that).  The doctor said we won’t be able to give him iron for a couple of months, even though he needs it, because his intestines are so inflamed, he wouldn’t be able to tolerate it, and would have even worse stomach cramps than he already does.  He is not to have anything fried (Joseph likes that kind of junk), nor any chocolate (that’ll be a real hardship), and he is to cut back on milk.  Yogurt is good, as are steamed vegetables, baked potatoes, chicken, and roast.

“Do you eat a balanced diet?” asked Dr. Luckey.

“Yes,” he replied, evidently tallying everything we fix or have on hand, whether he eats it or not.

“Meat?” queried the doctor.

Joseph nodded.

“Green vegetables?”

Joseph started to nod.

“No, don’t nod your head,” I interrupted quickly, “Shake it!”

Dr. Luckey turned quickly and looked at me.

I grinned at him.  “Give him a good lecture, Doctor,” I said.

The doctor laughed--and gave Joseph a list of foods that would help him feel better, and be good for him, and even taste good, into the bargain.  One good thing:  Joseph’s favorite vegetable is broccoli.

While we were in the clinic, the tornado sirens went off, and the tall pole with the sirens on it is smack-dab in the little park, right over the playground.  The littles came racing to the clinic door--only to find the doors had already been locked for the day.  Panic took away their timidity, and they pounded on the door until they roused somebody inside, who let them in.  Joseph and I, right in the center of the clinic, didn’t hear a thing, although Joseph once looked at his watch and remarked that he hoped the kids had come in if they were of a mind to, since the doors are locked after 5:00 p.m.

When Joseph and I came out of the examining room, the littles promptly rushed at me and began a simultaneous animated chronicle about sirens and clouds and wind and locked doors.  The skies were all overcast, and it was windy, but I didn’t see any sign of a tornado.

“Well, anyway,” said Victoria, nodding emphatically, “It sure enough almost got me.”

Before I headed for home, I stopped at Texaco and got a cappuccino for me, and three kinds of muffins (blueberry, banana walnut, and lemon poppyseed) and a blueberry bagel for the children, along with chocolate milk to wash it down.  (No chocolate milk for Joseph; he had to drink Gatorade.)  Joseph used my little pocketknife to cut all the muffins and the bagel into quarters, and then everyone got a taste of all four breadstuffs.  (‘Breadstuffs.’  Is that a word?)

That evening while I was waiting for Joseph’s prescriptions to be filled, I got Caleb’s birthday presents:  a Tonka loader, a clip-on light with flexible neck, four shiny pencils, a notebook with a photo of a fuzzy little colt on the front, a Winnie-the-Pooh activity and sticker book, and a Dalmatian with a bobbing head.  Last week I got him a beautiful Bible Story Book at--of all places--Hy-Vee.

Finally the pharmacist called my name, and I discovered that one prescription could not be filled till the next day, because the doctor didn’t sign his name on the paper.  Good grief; anybody could tell it was the same illegible handwriting.  That’s disgusting.  Fortunately, it was the prescription Joseph doesn’t need to start taking until he finishes the antibiotics.  Norma brought him some powdered acidophilus the next evening, hoping it would help his stomach.  He tried it, but it didn’t stay down.  Last night Mama gave me some acidophilus in capsule form; maybe that will help him.

Dorcas, Hannah, and Aaron went to Lincoln Thursday to go shopping.  Both girls got jackets for Christmas; Hannah’s is white, and Dorcas’ is black.  Hannah’s car wasn’t working quite right, so she stopped in Valparaiso to have somebody look at it.  For one thing, somebody who worked on the car recently must not have tightened the cables to the battery posts.  But even after the mechanic tightened them, it still doesn’t work right.  Hannah was afraid it wasn’t going to make it up the hills--and there are lots of hills in that neck of the woods.  (Yes, Nebraska does have hills.)  (Yes, Nebraska does have woods.)

When life finally calmed down that day, Lydia told me all about her class field trip to the Platte County Museum that morning.  She’d never been there before.  I took the older children there three days before Lydia was born.  My favorite part of the museum is the room that holds all the old pianos, organs, violins, bass fiddles, harps, and xylophones.  It is so intriguing to see such things as the intricate detail carved into the tall wooden back and sides of the old pump organ.  I have a funny picture of Hester, age two, standing under a large helmet-like apparatus with small metal rods hanging down on all sides:  it was a combination hair curler and dryer.  Actually, it looks more like some sort of elaborate electrocution device.

As I type, Tabby is sleeping on the loveseat beside me.  He really is beginning to think he belongs, I do believe.  But Kitty and Socks are still a bit leery.  No big bad cat fights yet, though.

Friday evening, Lawrence and Norma brought us a Dairy Queen cake so that I could properly turn another year older (my birthday was the 6th), along with a bottle of Chloe perfume and a big hymnal with lots of favorite songs of mine in it, songs I don’t have in any other book.  Bobby, Hannah, and Aaron came, too, and gave me a gift card from Hy-Vee.  I like that kind of a present:  a practical commodity, and I don’t have to build a new wall to hang it on, a new shelf to put it on, or a new room to install it in.  Hannah gave us some scrumptious, homemade brownies, which endeared her to Teddy forever.

I plugged in the videos we took when we went to Pine Ridge and Ponca State Parks, in the opposite ends of the state, and the menfolk were soon snoozing away.  So I got out the camcorder and videoed them.

After everyone went home, I went back to cleaning Victoria’s room.  It’s getting better--but the hallway is full of boxes, and I haven’t the faintest notion what I am going to do with all that stuff.  I made a couple of high ‘hammocks’ in two corners of Victoria’s room, using a couple pieces of fabric that used to be part of the curtain set in that room, and filled them with stuffed animals.  Victoria thinks it’s funny; she likes all those beasts hovering over her.

Any time I pick something up and look at it contemplatively, Victoria, thinking I am about to stick it in the bag for the Goodwill, says hastily, “Oh, isn’t that nice?  I really, really, really like it.”  If I hesitate, she continues, “I have always liked to play with that,” she tips her head appealingly, “ever since I was just a little girl.”

I keep it.

Well, what would you do?

Saturday we went for a ride out along the canal near Monroe.  The trees are turning colors, the sky was blue, and the reflections in the water were beautiful.  Joseph felt well enough to come, but it wasn’t long before he was asking to go home again.

Larry and Joseph shot Larry’s 30-30, and I even gave it a try, managing to hit the target on my first and only attempt.  Larry tried out his in-line muzzle loader, but it refused to fire.  Muzzle loaders, believe it or not, are rifles that are reloaded through the muzzle after each firing.  The gun wouldn’t fire because a friend to whom Larry had loaned the gun last year had tried using small cylinders of gun powder in it, when one is supposed to measure loose powder into it.  He would have been disappointed, had he ever tried to shoot a deer with it.

Next time, I think we should loan him a blunderbuss.

You know what a blunderbuss is, don’t you?  Other than a thickheaded, clumsy oaf, I mean.  It’s a musket or harquebus (a word often used in large cities when one is awaiting a ride, as follows:  “Hark!  A bus!”) with a bell-shaped muzzle into which one can load several bullets at one time.  When fired, the bullets scatter widely, but they sure don’t go very far.  If anyone ever aims a blunderbuss at you, just run backwards a spell, and you should be safe as a waif in Lu Cayf.

The word ‘blunderbuss’ probably comes from the Dutch donderbus (thunder gun), with a pun on ‘blunders’.  Now the big question is:  did the Dutch make the pun and rhyme the words, or did the Americans?

             For those of you who are now wondering what a musket is, here’s the definition:  ‘A shaggy, slow, clumsy-looking animal that lives in the far north.  The bulls weigh as much as 900 pounds.  Muskets are covered with long, shaggy, dark-brown hair, curly and matted over the humped shoulders, and straight on the rest of the body.  The bull has massive, sharp-pointed horns that curve down, outward, and up-’ --oh, sorry.  That’s the musk ox.
 

Okay, here we go:  Musket (muh’-sk't):  ‘Fruit of a plant that belongs to the gourd family.  Muskets grow on vines that are sometimes nearly seven feet long.  The bullets attach to a netlike fiber in a central hollow of the melon.  Ripe muskets have a distinctive, sweet flavor, and give off an odor which is much like that of musk.  The thick inner layer of juicy pulp is the portion of the melon one eats’ --oh, sorry.  That’s the muskmelon.

Okay, here we go:  Musket (muh’-sk't):  ‘An animal that lives in swampy places near streams and rivers.  They get their name from their unpleasant musklike odor.  These guns have scaly, somewhat flattened tails that they use to steer themselves in the water.  The webbed toes on their hind feet help them swim’ --oh, sorry.  That’s the muskrat.

Okay, here we go:  Musket (muh’ sk't):  ‘A firearm infantry soldiers used before the perfection of the rifle.  Early muskets were six or seven feet long, and weighed forty pounds or more.  Muskets were so inaccurate that men found it difficult to hit the broad side of a barn if it was more than 100 yards away.  Today, a few squads with rifles and machine guns could defeat a regiment of barns with muskets.’

Oooooo...I’d better tell Larry not to run up against any machine gun squads, shouldn’t I?

After taking Joseph home, we washed the Suburban and then went to Wal-Mart, where we bought a bookcase/dresser for Victoria’s room.  There simply are not enough places to put everything, which is the problem throughout the entire house.  Perhaps I have gone at this cleaning all wrong.  Maybe I should have called for a large moving van to back up the driveway, and then told all the members of this family to close their eyes, gather up anything and everything they can hold, and stuff that truck to the rafters.  When it was full, the driver should haul it all to the nearest landfill, and that would be that.

And the very next day, I’m sure, I would’ve discovered exactly what I really needed of all those things I’d discarded of.

Ah, well; I’m on the home stretch now.

When Dorcas came home from Mama’s house Saturday afternoon, she told us that Mama had fallen that morning when she went out to the kitchen to get her coffee.  Dorcas was sleeping, and didn’t know Mama was awake.  Fortunately, she heard Mama right away when she called.  Dorcas wasn’t able to help her up, so she called Lura Kay, and John rushed over and helped Mama up.

When I went to see her, Mama told me that she hadn’t felt well all day, and later when Lura Kay took her temperature she discovered that Mama had a fever of 100.2°.  We are afraid she has had a recurrence of kidney infection; we shall see.

Keith and Esther brought me a birthday present that evening:  a Wilson Match Point Soft Shock Grip USPTA tennis racket.  Wheeeeee!!!  I’m agonna whup the socks off ebbybubby!!!

Dorcas put together a pretty 2002 calendar for me, filling it with pictures of the family.  A friend of mine gave me a potpourri burner and hazelnut coffee (reckon I could make the coffee in the potpourri burner?); and the ‘bow’ atop the package was really a pin made of autumn-colored velvet flowers.  I am drinking the hazelnut coffee right this minute, as I type.  Mmmm...

After we came home from church yesterday, Victoria spent a good deal of the afternoon drawing pictures for me and carefully wrapping them in the paper from another of my gifts.  As soon as I opened it and looked at the drawing, she’d repossess the wrapping paper and the bow, and go off to draw something else.

In the meanwhile, we listened to the radio, which was telling us all about our attack on the Taliban in Afghanistan.  Do you suppose Osama bin Laden has even the smallest thought that perhaps he underestimated us?

Our kindergarten teacher told me that, shortly after the school flag was lowered to half staff a few weeks ago, one of her little students said to her ever so soberly, “Mrs. W.!  I know why our flag is half cocked.”  

After church last night, I went to the pharmacy in three grocery stores to get Mama some regular-strength Tylenol, gelcaps, but the only regular-strength Tylenol to be found was in the round tablets that are so hard to swallow, especially for Mama.  So I got extra-strength Tylenol, but 500 mgs are probably too much for her.  After a bit I shall go to Walgreens and see what I can find.

Guess what Teddy and Amy gave me??!  A large-format camera!!

Okay, okay; don’t get yourself into a lather.  It’s made of light-weight resin, and is a replica of an old-fashioned camera--and it’s a birdhouse.  Isn’t that nifty!  They also gave me a little china ring box made to look like an old-time sewing machine.  And...down at the bottom of the gift bag...underneath everything...a big bag of Reese’s Pieces.  I shall remember those two in my will, I shall I shall I shall.

Joseph was still sick last night; he hardly eats a thing.  He’s getting thinner and thinner--and he was thin enough already.

So Larry and I went to the store and bought several bags of groceries.  We carried it into the house, and I told Joseph, “Okay.  This is a short-order cafe.  You pick what you want, and I’ll fix it.”

It turned out, I didn’t have a very hard job in the slightest:  all he did was pour applesauce into a bowl and take one bite, cut a slice of pre-cooked turkey and eat three-quarters of it, and eat a blueberry cereal bar.  And then his stomach hurt, and he went back to bed.  I am hoping that soon, soon, his medicine will take effect.

Oh!  Would you believe!  I just noticed!  Right this minute, Joseph is sitting in the living room eating the chicken pot pie I bought for him.  Mmmm...smells good; my stomach is growling.

“Is it good?” I asked.

He rumpled his nose.  “Well...not really.”

(It is; he just doesn’t know it.)

But he’s eating.

Hmmmm...maybe he’ll get full before he’s done, and there’ll be some left for--oh, whoever happens to be puttering around the house, stomach a-growl...

I’d better go get myself a sourdough muffin with gobs of peanut butter and honey, before I snatch that pot pie right out from under that boy’s nose.