About 11:45 a.m. last Monday morning, I suddenly saw it: the big pan on the back of the stove, lid still on, wherein we made the dressing for dinner the day before. And there it still sat, with not a spoonful withdrawn. We didn’t dish it up or serve it--and it’s one of our favorite dishes! Rats, rats, rats. What a waste!
I decided to make up for it by not calling the plumber.
I bought Draino instead. Three economy-sized, maximum strength jugs of Draino. Six dollars a jug.
Yes, we had a major clog--both my bathroom sink and the basement bathroom sink would not drain.
I poured one entire jug into the sink downstairs, two into mine, and went back to typing. Ten minutes later I heard a very loud GLUG GLUG GLUG GLUG GLUG!!!
Being a bit out of it, a condition brought on by intense concentration, not old age, as you might mistakenly imagine, I leaped up and peered out the window, where nothing seemed amiss. Nebraska was not sinking into the Missouri, nor was a giant Mastodon from the family Mastodontidae of the order Proboscidea (from the Greek word ‘proboskis’, meaning ‘long-snouted’) swallowing Lakes North and Babcock, both at the same time.
It occurred to me that I’d been hearing my sink draining. I went to look at it…and discovered it was actually empty. I turned on the faucet, and water flowed down nicely, slick as a tater (a la Larry).
But the sink downstairs was still full.
So we went back to Wal-Mart for another big jug of Draino. Hester poured it into the drain…but nothing happened, except the sink got alarmingly full.
Five minutes later, there was a loud GLUG GLUG GLUG GLUG GLUG!!!--and down went the water. The sink is flowing perfectly now. Sooo…for $24, I fixed the plumbing problem. The plumber charges at least $50, more if it takes over an hour, with the price of parts added to the total.
’Course, there’s a small lake forming in the back yard on account of the disintegrated pipes from all that Draino; but…oh, well; the water is flowing out of the sinks fine and dandy!
Leaving the conduits and aqueducts to fend for themselves, we went off to Craft Village, where I ordered a frame for a big puzzle, a picture of horses in a pasture, that we’ve had for a coon’s age. {Actually, it’s probably been two coons’ ages, since raccoons generally live five years or so.} I think it was given to Teddy many years ago, so I’m going to give it to Teddy and Amy for Christmas.
I ordered another frame for a wood-burned scene of a mill that Teddy did several years ago. He burnt it onto an unfinished piece of board, and it is such a pretty picture, with trees and branches all around and a stream in the foreground; the lumber seems to enhance the etching. I am having it framed in dark rustic wood that matches the dark lines of the drawing.
I should probably give that back to Teddy, too; but…well, he once gave it to me, and it will perfectly complement a clock I have that is framed in heavy wood and has a picture of an old farm. At the bottom of the picture, under the glass, are handfuls of rust-colored prairie grasses.
Sooo…I will hang it on my wall and see what Teddy has to say about it. If he acts like he sorta kinda really wants that picture, well, then, … I guess I’ll just give it to him.
When Larry got home from work Monday evening, we went to Madison to get the Mazda 626. It started snowing a mile out of Columbus, and by the time we were leaving Madison, the streets were covered with snow. Victoria went with us. She would have liked to ride home with Larry, but the heater fan doesn’t work. The new radiator had been installed as promised, and everything worked fine (other than the heater fan). Larry says it drives good and is a snappy little car.
We stopped at a convenience store on the way out of Madison to get some coffee and juice for Victoria (that is, the coffee was for Larry and I; the juice was for Victoria). Larry noticed several Krispy Kreme doughnuts in the display case, and when I started to get a few, the lady told me that they were two for the price of one. So I got a dozen. That meant each of us, including the three who stayed home, could have two. I thought we should save six for the next day… But we accidentally ate them all. As Hester used to say when she was about two, “Hoink.”
Tuesday morning, Victoria got up all excited, because it was the day for her kindergarten Thanksgiving feast, and she was to go at noon. She took a bath, I washed her hair, ironed her dress, and helped her put it on. She ate breakfast, and soon it was time to go. I combed her hair, which had dried into long, shiny waves, clipped a big barrette into it, helped her on with her coat, and carefully tucked her hair into her hood.
She went skipping down the snow-covered walk--we must have gotten about four inches --and promptly met up with the man who delivers the World Herald, only then arriving. The paper usually comes at 7:30 or 8:00 a.m. The man who drives the big paper-delivery truck from Omaha must be skeert o’ snow.
An hour later, Hester, Lydia, and Caleb came home for dinner. While Hester scooped the walk, Lydia made lemon poppyseed muffins. Mmmm… we like them. My favorite of the poppyseed variety are almond poppyseed, however.
Hannah and Aaron came visiting that afternoon. As they came in the door, I asked Aaron if he had snow on his shoes, and he proceeded to stomp with great gusto, in order to get the snow off.
Hannah had brought along several new wool felt hats of various model and denomination, and was sewing decorations all over them. She’s good at that sort of thing. She’s artistic, and creative, … downright ingenious.
When later I went to the bank and the post office, the roads were still so icy that I put the Suburban into four-wheel-drive. Makes a person feel egotistical, does, when she can trek about with so much more sure-footedness than her fellow drivers. tee hee!
{One must not get too smug, however, for the brakes work no better in four-wheel-drive than they do in two-wheel-drive.}
I started sewing Lydia’s green/red/white plaid pleated skirt with the wide, tapered flanges over the shoulders. I will sew a lacy white linen blouse to go with it.
Then Hester tried on her Thanksgiving suit--and discovered she’d grown out of it.
Aaarrrggghhh!!! I was afraid of that; she’s been growing like a weed the last two months! I hastily put away the red/green plaid and pulled out the navy-with-rust-and-ecru-hearts cotton jumper with the ecru cotton blouse that I’d cut out for her. But in case I didn’t have time to get it done, I rushed into my closet and pulled out a dark brown and black paisley dress with a velvet-collared jacket that used to be Dorcas’. I’d worn it once, over a year ago.
Hester tried it on. She came back into my room just as I put the tan thread into my sewing machine and prepared to sew the first seam.
The dress fit. It fit perfectly, and Hester even liked it, into the bargain.
I took the tan thread off my machine, put the green back on, and returned to pinning pleats in green and red plaid.
The man from whom we are buying our property brought us a long legal paper listing restrictions for The Lot. Taking it strictly by the letter, it sounds like we can’t put our little shed on that lot, and neither can the kids camp out in their tents.
Pooh. We’ll see about that. (’Course, he did say that if we had any complaints about anything on that there paper, he’d be glad to work with us, compromise, etc.) He also took to giving himself laud and honor for clearing out the brush Larry had created--twice.
Well, pbth pbth pbth pbth. We didn’t ask him to clear it out for us. I think he was merely having fun with his cute little loader! So there.
Oh, well; nothing to worry about. We’ve gotten along fine with him for 25 years; I expect he’ll succumb nicely to warm muffins, or cookies, or a fresh loaf of bread, just as various other neighbors have done, down through the years. Ve haff our vays.
Romans 12:18: “If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. Otherwise, overbake the muffins and bean them in the bugle when they pass by thy property.”
(I may have misquoted that.) (Or overquoted it, as it were.)
The excavation company didn’t get the hole for our basement dug that day, as they had intended, because of the snow. They have a contract with the city, and any time it snows, they are busy beavers, day and night, till the snow is properly put in its place. And anyway, all the orange marks on stakes and ground were covered with the white stuff.
As Larry said, “They were removeling snow all day long.” (That’s a combination of removing and shoveling.) He told me they planned to dig the basement Friday.
He set about seeing if he could fix the heater fan on the car.
Well, he made some difference; he got it running. Trouble is, it only ran on High. But that was better than not at all; you can turn the heater on until you are piping hot, turn it off until you are freezing cold, turn it on until you are piping hot, turn it off until you are freezing cold, … average it out, and you’ll find yourself exactly right.
I decided it was the perfect evening for chicken burritos and taco bravos from Taco John’s.
Did you know it is awkward, going through a drive-through, when your windows are plumb frozen shut? Well, it is.
I pulled up to the menu board where is the intercom, and tried to roll the window down--but it wouldn’t go. So I drove forward, opened my door, hung out it a ways, and yelled back at the speaker.
“Could you talk louder?” said the girl at the other end, “I can’t hear you.”
I yelled louder, while pedestrians from all walks of life stared at me from all sides. {Now, there’s when it would be nice to be the Mayor of Paris. It’s against the law to stare at him.}
After a good deal of trouble, the girl finally got my order right. I advanced to the window, pulling far enough ahead that I could open my door and reach back for the bags of food.
The girl opened her window and peered blindly out at the Suburban’s back passenger window.
“It’s $24.27,” she announced to the closed window, and then gave a violent start when she glanced my way and saw that my door was open and I was reaching toward her with a mittened paw.
After that, she treated me like I didn’t quite have all my marbles. Ain't nobody ever saw a froze-shut winder befo'?!
School was over for the week Tuesday; no school from Wednesday on. And church was canceled that night. So off we went to Fremont to go Christmas shopping, first at the Goodwill, in case there happened to be anything of value there, and then to the Super Wal-Mart.
We hit the jackpot at the Goodwill: somebody had donated piles of books that looked like they’d never even been opened. I bought a tall stack, including a pile of large hardback National Geographic animal books. I happen to know those books cost from fifteen to twenty dollars apiece, because, several years ago, I gave the five older children part of that series, ordering them from the National Geographic magazine. But these were only $1.00 each!
I found a tall, fat book called The World’s Worst Cars that I know Larry will find intriguing and fascinating (since even I did), another entitled Dream Cars that I think Keith will like, and a large one by name of Endangered Species that we will give to Bobby.
We also got a handful of books that look slightly the worse for wear; but Caleb will like them, regardless of their shopworn appearance: Garfield and Peanuts books. I also found an Alice in Bibleland story about Jonah for Victoria; those are good little books, almost always accurate and true to the Bible.
The girls discovered a shelf full of board books precisely the right age for Aaron. We picked out all the new ones--nearly a dozen of them, worth $5-$7 apiece--and paid $.50 each.
I got the neatest little hand-painted wooden ‘butterfly house’. When I find something I’d really like to keep, I cheat: I give it to Victoria…or Hester…or Caleb…or Lydia…and then it’s still in my very own house! [Shhhhh…don’t tell anyone.] There is one problem with this modus operandi: children have an inclination to grow up, get married, move into their own house, and take all those pretty things with them. Silly kids think the things are theirs!, even though they’ve been in my house all that time!
The butterfly house was $5.00, which is not a bargain when you are getting stuff secondhand… but at least it didn’t look secondhand. Hester found herself some sparkly silver sandals for Christmas; Lydia got black and white spectator pumps with too, too high of a heel. (Later we would discover that the spectator pumps were slightly too small, so Hester wound up with two pairs of shoes, and Lydia none. Things are not always fair, when one is shopping at the Goodwill.)
I found the neatest little musical water fountain; water flows out of an old-fashioned pump, and a bluebird is perched atop the handle, while butterflies rest here and there on rocks and flowers. It is sensor activated. The price was six dollars; they sell for $20 at Wal-Mart. We’ll give it to Mama. One resin butterfly was missing, but Dorcas bought a package of feather butterflies at Wal-Mart, and I glued all three onto the fountain.
I wound up with three big boxes full of things from the Goodwill, including a zillion new barrettes, headbands, and ponytail holders. (Note the ‘new’. We don’t want cooties, thank you.)
The lady gave up counting at 34, when the price would have been about $17, as most of them were $.50 each, and charged me $12.99 for the entire lot--and there were a lot more. We got a vest printed with Irish setters for Dorcas, a navy corduroy vest for Hester, along with a white blouse with pastel embroidery all over the collar and front placket--and they all had red tags on them, and red-tagged items were only $.99 that day.
After leaving the Goodwill, we drove to Wal-Mart, parked at the back of the parking lot--which was about the last place left to park in any case--and made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which we washed down with juice.
At Wal-Mart, I got most of the rest of the shopping done, buying all sorts of stocking stuffers: toothbrushes, small flasks of multi-purpose oil, squeegies, flower-shaped gelatin soaps, little decanters of lotion or body spray or bath gel.
I need to get a few more things, and then I’ll be done.
Something is wrong with the front left wheel, or maybe the axle, on the Suburban. I hope it doesn’t fall off entirely someday and leave me stranded somewhere. I’d be up a crick, ’cause I’m not tough enough to i) get the lugnuts off, ii) pull the wheel off the hub, iii) lift the spare from its cubbyhole, iv) get the spare out of the Suburban and onto the ground, v) lift the spare onto the hub, and vi) tighten the lugnuts enough to keep them from coming loose before we got back home. Larry thinks it might be a U‑joint gone bad. I wouldn’t know a U‑joint if it bit me on the ankle. But I do know when something is not quite right with my Subdivision.
When we got home, we found Larry trying to take a nap…but his married offspring kept calling at intervals, waiting just until he had started drifting off before ringing up again. Hannah was having troubles with the dress and jacket she was planning to wear to the Thanksgiving dinner the next day. She came over later, and I put the shawl collar onto the jacket for her. She’d never done a shawl collar before, and all its jags and notches were causing her great disconcertation, which isn’t a word but should be, especially when one is sewing shawl collars for the first time.
She trotted home again with the now-collared-but-still-sleeveless jacket, hoping to finish it soon.
But even though she stayed up half the night sewing, she didn’t get it done, poor girl.
I was once sewing a complicated collar for one of the girls. Lydia, then two years old, was standing beside me viewing the conflict, gently rocking her dolly in her arms. I made a mistake, picked up my seam ripper, took out the stitches, resewed it. I turned the collar right side out, found that it still didn’t look right, turned it back again, picked out the stitches, redid it.
It wasn’t right. I sighed, ripped out more stitches, tried again. Another blunder messed things up, and I made a loud growling noise as I reached for the seam ripper.
Lydia tipped her head sympathetically. “Does it make you nuts, Mama?” she inquired in her sweet little voice, looking up at me with those big blue-gray eyes of hers.
Back to Wednesday evening…
After force-feeding everyone their vegetables, Larry and I went to Menards to look at doors. We will put a patio door on the basement walk-out, and there will be a 4x4-foot window in that wall, too. We picked out a white patio door that slides, has a screen, and French-style windows. It will let a lot of light into that basement family room. The more windows, the better, in my opinion.
We looked at wood-burning stoves. Although we have the wood-burning stove from the basement of The House, it is old and well used, and since we have decided to have the big family room in the basement, we want the stove to be more than serviceable; we want it to be attractive, too.
They have some very pretty ones; but the prettiest one of all--that is, the prettiest of all the ones we can afford--is a flimsy tin thing that would doubtless warp and distort and contort in no time at all.
“Especially the way you build fires,” remarked Larry, and ducked.
We went to the other side of the store to see about water heaters. The Menards here in town doesn’t stock any electric water heaters over 50 gallons. We asked about ordering the 120-gallon model, and learnt that it costs $125,657,052. Something like that.
I think we’d be satisfied with the 105-gallon model. The less of a guarantee you get, the less the thing costs. Reckon they rig those things to self-destruct the moment the warranty expires?
We came home and watched the Baseball Bloopers video that I’d gotten at the Goodwill and planned to save for Larry for Christmas. I also had a video about Klondike and Snow, the famous polar bear cubs born--and abandoned by their young mother--at the Denver zoo. Dorcas was given the book about them several years ago. I was going to give that videotape to Caleb…but he already saw it, and everyone wanted to watch it… The videos cost $2.00 each, and were well worth the money.
Later that night, Larry and I were sitting at the table reading the newspaper.
“Do you want to take pictures when Kochs dig the basement and when Walkers pour the footings?” he asked in an offhanded way.
“Sure do,” I responded innocently.
Larry looked down his nose at me in superior fashion. “Well, you’re too late,” he informed me insolently.
Aaauuuggghhh!!! I want to put a skillet over his pate when he does that.
Yes, I was too late; they’d done it that very day.
“But you weren’t around to take pictures anyway,” he said knowledgeably, “because you went shopping.”
“Grrrr!” I answered. “What time did you find out they were going to dig the basement??”
“11:30,” replied Larry.
“Well, then it wasn’t too late,” I advised him, “We didn’t leave until 12:30.”
“But you wanted to go shopping,” remarked Larry in his most reasonable, calming sort of voice, the voice that never makes me feel the least little bit calmer.
“I wouldn’t have gone off shopping, and missed out on taking pictures of the basement being dug!!!” I said in quite an uncalm tone.
Larry cringed, squinting. “All right, all right!!” he cried, holding up both hands as though to ward me off. He looked at me for a moment. Then “I forgot,” he told me, and grinned, rather like a schoolboy who has been caught putting tacks on the girls’ chairs.
I sighed. I’d known that was the answer, all along, because he’d wanted pictures taken, too. But he forgot.
Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, Larry got up at 8:00 in order to work on the heater fan on the Mazda. He added another switch, an old one from the Suburban, and then it worked. He then helped a friend of ours bleed an old pickup. (Yes, they use leeches; keeps the oil from getting too thick.) (No, really, I haven’t the faintest idea what that means--‘bleed’.) (Something about brakes, maybe?)
He finally came home at 11:30 a.m. The rest of us were all in a rush, getting ready for our Thanksgiving service. I informed him (again) that when we live out at our new house, where it takes ten minutes to get to church if and only if we meet up with no stop lights on red, if he isn’t ready when we are ready to go to church, we will leave without him. He’ll have to climb the hill to Highway 81, half a mile away, and thumb his way there.
He grinned at me.
Doesn’t believe me, does he?
At 12:30 p.m., we gathered in the sanctuary for a short service of songs, then Robert reading a few verses from Psalms, after which we had dinner at 1:00. Thanksgiving dinner, as usual, consisted of a sumptuous fare of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, dinner rolls with jelly, green beans, Orange Fluff (jello with oranges, pineapple, and marshmallows), cranberry salad, milk, and a choice of either pecan or pumpkin pie. And of course our coffee and teacups were kept full while we ate.
When the meal is over, the children migrate upstairs to the schoolrooms to play some of the multitudes of games. The ladies clean off the tables and wash the dishes. I helped for a while, then collected my cameras and set to picture-taking.
Later, we drove to The House so Larry could take a bunch of measurements. We went first to The Lot, and I took pictures of the already-dug basement, the footings, and all the rebar sticking up out of it. Then off to Snyder and beyond, into the country, where we found The House idling forlornly alongside its old familiar lane, at the place where the lane used to make a 90° turn. The lane was in a shambles now, because they’d dug dirt from it to help fill the hole of the basement.
We all wound up rather muddy, helping Larry measure from one beam to another, corner to corner, cattycorner to cattycorner, in between beams, etc., in order that the new walls would be positioned exactly right, with windows put in place where beams need to slide through so that The House can be lowered onto the walls with precision.
It wasn’t long before we were absolutely, positively frozen solid. The trees that were around the farm are all cut down now, and it was cold, with nothing to break the wind. Lydia, the dumb bunny, had nothing but her windbreaker-that-doesn’t. No coat. I didn’t notice, or she’d never have set foot in the Suburban like that.
She stayed inside the Suburban.
When we got home, I started wrapping gifts. That’s almost as fun as starting to sew a freshly cut out garment. I just plain like to wrap presents!
Friday morning, Larry called to tell me that they were setting up forms at The Lot, and soon the pump truck would be arriving.
I threw everything down and gathered up coats, mittens, hats, and cameras with all my might and main. (Oh, and kids, too.) We stopped to pick up Hannah and Aaron, who wanted to come with us, and then out to The Lot we went.
The pump truck was already there when we arrived, but was up the hill a little ways waiting till all was ready. I busied myself with picture-taking. Soon Richard was driving the big truck closer, sending the boom up…up…up…and out over the walls. A mixer truck, driven by my brother-in-law, John, backed up to the pump truck. John set the chute in place and cement began flowing into the pump truck. One of the young men took the hose, the truck’s motor revved, and there was the cement then, pouring down into the forms, making the walls of our basement.
They used brick-faced forms, all the way around. Perhaps Larry will brick the side with the walkout later; but in the meanwhile, this is the way to go for fast finishes that look nice.
About the time I decided to go back home again, the sky turned blue and the sun came out, shining down on all the proceedings. Because the light was good, and the sky and the trees looked so pretty in the sun’s golden glow, I took another entire roll of film and shot several more yards of videotape.
Home again, then, where I went back to wrapping presents.
When Larry came home from work, he brought in all the stuff for the Christmas tree, and the kids set it up and decorated it. Most of the lights don’t work anymore, and the adornments seem to be disappearing by the truckload. Poor little tree looks sad and dejected, if you ask me. The kids think it shrinks every year--but that’s just because they grow every year. Oh! I just remembered…Larry has a gold-plated filigree ornament that Hester gave him, on his nightstand! I must go get it right now, or I’ll forget… … …
Okay, I’m back again; the ornament is now hanging from the tree. It depicts Lewis and Clark crossing the Rockies, and all the separate little pieces of the decoration are suspended practically invisibly.
The first order of the day, Saturday: cleaning out the fish tank. It was cleaned, just last Monday!!! But already by Thursday, it was yucky again. I put a new filter in it; maybe that will help. There are only nine fish now, plus the scavenger. Maybe we need another scavenger. Another ten scavengers?
An hour later I’d barely finished my muffin when Lydia came back from Mama’s house with two platefuls of banana cake bars Dorcas had made, and they were still warm from the oven. So I had to eat mine right then and there, of course; and then wasn’t I stuffed to the brim. But it was sure good.
Teddy and Amy stopped by and invited the kids to their house. I let the girls go, but Caleb needed to do some schoolwork; he will go next time. But it wasn’t long and he couldn’t do it anymore, on account of headache and earaches, poor child.
Amy helped the girls make peanut butter chip cookies, and they had hot chocolate to go with them.
The Mazda 626 has either a cracked head or a bad head gasket; evidently whoever had the car before we bought it drove it a while with that leaky radiator and got the motor too hot.
So we put it on a trailer, pulling it with the Suburban, and then Larry, Caleb, and I took it back to Madison Body Shop. They have a motor or two there that will work in that car; they will put one in for us, and we’ll pay them for their labor. They have always been fair with us; we expect them to be so again.
Leaving the Mazda, Larry put a big diesel van on the trailer, squishing the poor Suburban down. He will take the motor out to use in his pickup, and then we will return the motorless van.
We stopped at a convenience store on the way out of Madison and got the last three lemon-filled Krispy Kreme doughnuts--and the lady let us have them for the price of one--60¢! Mmmmm.
So, having eaten our dessert, we went home and had the main course: sausage patties with cheese on top, and chicken noodle soup, followed by yogurt. Kind of a funny combination; but it hit the spot.
Teddy and Amy came after Teddy finished practicing his trombone at the church with our little band.
“Is the barbershop open?” queried Teddy, peering around the corner.
“It’s never closed,” replied Larry, sending Caleb off to the bathroom for all the hair-cutting supplies.
“Except when the barber’s asleep,” I amended.
Yesterday, Robert preached from Acts 14, about Paul getting stoned and left for dead. But he revived, rose up, and went right back to preaching--exactly what he’d been stoned for.
Do you know, that takes more courage than simply to be a martyr for one’s faith--to continue doing right, no matter what. To continue.
Is it any wonder that the Bible is so full of admonitions such as Ephesians 6:13, “Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.” And Acts 14:22, “Confirming the souls of the disciples, and exhorting them to continue in the faith, and that we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God.” And Colossians 1:23, “…continue in the faith grounded and settled, and be not moved away from the hope of the gospel, which ye have heard…” And James 1:25, “But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed.” And John 8:31 & 32, “Then said Jesus to those Jews which believed on him, If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (That last verse was what Daddy read the night he was saved, on a ship way out in the Pacific Ocean during WWII.) And John 15:9, “As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in my love.” And Galatians 6:9, “And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.”
I’ve been printing lots of letter pages and envelopes while I type my journal, and every time the Print window pops up, the cursor goes away and I lose my place. Then I must retrieve the mouse and click on the place I want to type again. Funny, what things we regard as nuisances with these conveniences of ours.
The printer has the nasty habit of randomly dragging two or more--and sometimes the entire stack--of papers into it, which of course messes up the order if I am doing more than one page at a time. So if you ever wind up with a letter whose order of pages is 1, 5, 4, 2, 3 or suchlike, do not blame me, it is not my fault, I cannot be held responsible, I couldn’t help it.
Aarrgghh! I have now been informed that my black ink is low! Well, that certainly didn’t last long, that refill thingamajigger. Not nearly so long as a brand new cartridge. I wish there were some way of accurately figuring which is the most economic way to go.
I hear a sourdough muffin calling me; I’d better go see what it wants.
The minute the green and red plaid skirt, along with the white linen blouse, are done, I start packing.
Wheeeeee! This will be even better than sewing freshly-cut-out fabric!
P.S.: It wanted to be toasted, buttered, and lavishly slathered with peanut butter and honey.
…
…
…
… … … And eaten.
P.S.S.: To the person who wanted a reprint:
I’ll get you a copy of that piggyback grasshopper tomorrow…or the next day. Somewhere, I have the negative for that picture, and I’d planned to make an enlargement of it and frame it… But I think it got lost in the Bermuda Triangle along with Elvis Presley and Erma Bombeck’s socks and my sewing machine screwdriver and Meriwether Lewis’ moccasins. Ah, well; I’ll just get out my original picture and make a copy in Wal-Mart’s nifty copier. I only wish they’d dust it a little more often; sometimes lint shows up on my pictures.
And now Larry is informing me it’s bedtime, and he’s right, and I’m going, I’m going, I’m going, I’m going, I’m gone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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