Sunday, December 29, 2002 - Languisheth the House; and How to Cool a Candy Cane

Bare minutes after writing this to you last week:  ‘Would you belief, not a single fish has died for nigh unto six weeks?!’, Lydia came marching out to the living room and informed me, “There’s a dead fish in the fish tank.”

Ugh.  It was one of the smallest ones…so maybe Darwin’s theory, Survival of the Fattest, is still in effect, in spite of the fact that I don’t believe in Darwinism.  Did you know that even Darwin did not believe in evolution?  Yep, it’s a fact.  At the end of his life, he said he was sorry he had promoted such rubbish, as he knew good and well that there was a Higher Being who had created everything; there could be no other explanation, and he had advanced his theories on evolution because he was rebellious toward God.

Monday, Larry called to tell me we would be going to the Credit Union at 4:00 p.m. to sign papers.  And did we sign papers!  I mean to say, we signed papers, and then we signed papers, and then we signed papers, and then we signed papers, and then we signed papers, and then we signed papers, and then we signed papers, and then we signed papers, …  Anyway, we signed papers.

Caleb and Victoria, sitting out in the waiting room just outside the office where Larry and I were, aroused the sympathies of a teller, who gave them each a handful of candy.  Then the lady from the title company came with more papers for Larry and I to sign.  She gave us a packet of cookies, took a Polaroid picture of us--so we could remember what we looked like the day we actually got the title for our house.  

Sherrrrrrrrrrr.  That's in case we go on the lam to Mexico, and take the house with us.  How dumb does she think we are?!

--and then she gave us more papers to sign.  The loan officer gave us the checks we needed for a couple of rural power districts to our east, Cornhusker Public Power (which will be our new power company), and Loup Power District (which serves Columbus).  Would you believe, it cost over $10,000 to have the electrical lines moved?!?!

Next, we went to Hy-Vee so I could get stamps and mail my letters--and when I handed the lady my stack of letters, I inadvertently gave her the envelope with all those big checks in it.  She tossed them all into the mail bin.  Still oblivious, I bought a few groceries and went back out to the Suburban.

“I need more boxes for packing,” I said as Larry backed out of the parking space.

I pulled our new picture out of the folder and looked at it.  Then I looked at some of the papers we’d signed--and I didn’t realize that Larry wasn’t heading to the back of Hy-Vee--or maybe Wal-Mart--for the requested boxes until we were almost home.

            “Hey!” I yelped, “Boxes!!!  I need boxes!”

            “But I need to go work on my pickup!” Larry grumbled.

            “Yes, but it will just take a minute or two, and I need a whole bunch, and you can carry them easier than I can,” I argued.

            So, with a little more husbandly complaining and a little more wifely cajoling, he headed back to get them.

            Behind Hy-Vee, we hit pay dirt:  gazillions of boxes, flattened but not yet crushed and tied into bundles.  Larry put a trillion or so into the back of the Suburban and we headed for home.

            We pulled into the driveway.  I collected purse…Credit Union folder…bags of groceries…

            “Where’s the envelope with those checks?” asked Larry.

            I stopped what I was doing, held very still, and looked at him.  I knew exactly where that envelope was:  it was in the mail bin at Hy-Vee.

            With reverberations of the most clamorous commotions ever, Larry headed back to Hy-Vee once more, where the dawdling, slow-poke clerk methodically searched through the mail.  Larry was on the verge of a coronary conniption when the girl finally found the envelope--checks intact.  Whew!  I resolved to be less negligent and preoccupied in the future.

After eating supper, Larry went to work on his pickup.  Hester and Lydia went with Dorcas to Dollar General for a few more presents.

“You’d better hurry,” I admonished, “or you’ll be late for Christmas Program practice!”

They each assured me they would not be late.

But they were--about one minute late.  But, just like their father, they all seem to think that being one minute late cannot really be counted as late; on the contrary, it’s just not quite early, that’s all.  I, on the other hand, am inclined to think that one is late if one is less than five minutes early.

I spent the day wrapping and packing crystal and china and a few books.  Larry later tried out my packing job by bumping a box off another, whereupon it landed on its side on the floor.

Thud!!! said the box--but not a single ‘tinkle’ came from within.

At midnight, Larry had not yet come home, the kids were in bed, and I decided to finish the Christmas shopping, since Wal-Mart now stays open twenty-four hours a day.

That day, the house mover got our house to a little town called Dodge.  The electric companies wouldn’t be working Tuesday and Wednesday; he planned to continue his route Thursday and Friday, and was hoping the crews would be willing to work through the night Thursday.

I got up early Tuesday morning (early, that is, in view of the lateness of the hour I went to bed the previous night) in order to take those checks to Loup Power District and Cornhusker Public Power before I did something else disastrous with them.  Caleb and Victoria came along, in spite of the fact that it was a cold, cold morning--and, according to them, it was an entirely profitable morning, because they got a new pen and coloring book at Cornhusker Public Power, a fat Christmas peppermint stick at Loup Power District, and bright pink cotton candy at Wal-Mart.

We went first to Cornhusker Public Power.  Everyone was jovial and friendly, and the manager himself even walked out to wish me a Merry Christmas--which of course he would do, since I was handing him a check for 8,500 smackeroos.

Back into town then, and clear to the other side…  I walked into the office at Loup Power District.  The woman behind the desk looked up.

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Jackson; I think Henry, the manager, wants to say something to you,” she informed me.

I grinned at her.  “But what if I’m not Mrs. Jackson?”

She laughed, stopped laughing, rolled her eyes.  “Nobody else would be coming in here on Christmas Eve to give me $500!”  Turning her chair to the side, she called, “Henry!  Did you want to talk to Mrs. Jackson?”  She glanced back at me, made a face, and rolled her eyes again.

What was this all about?

Henry, clad in western shirt, Wranglers, and cowboy boots, sauntered out, leaned an elbow on the high counter, looked at me and grimaced.

What was all this about???

“Did you know,” the man asked me, “that Cornhusker Public Power has backed out of working on the lines Thursday and Friday?”

“No,” I replied.

“Well, they have.  Furthermore, next week will be a short week because of New Year’s.”  He shrugged up one shoulder, made a disgusted face.  “I talked to Jerry at Cornhusker Public Power (whoever he is), tried to convince him…”  He shook his head.

“Hmmmmm,” I said for lack of anything better to say.

“‘Hmm!’” exclaimed the woman.  “This is going to put you almost a week behind schedule!  And what if there is bad weather next week?!”  She gave a little snort of disdain.  “The weather is supposed to be good the rest of this week!”  She tapped her fingernails on her desk.  “But noooooo.  They can’t do it this week.”  She snorted again, and then raised her eyebrows.  “Somebody needs to rant and rave, if you’re not going to!”

I laughed.  “Well, I was planning to start moving in; perhaps I’ll load up the Suburban, haul the stuff to Dodge, and move in right there.”

So I left them both laughing in the office as I went away.

Sooo…The House will be languishing in Dodge until tomorrow at least, and after that…who knows.  This country is chock full of lazybones; haven’t you run into your share?  I think the linesmen were planning to have hangovers on Thursday, and watch the ball game on Friday.  But hahaha! the Huskers lost again!  Serves ’em right, does.  Serves the indolent linesmen right, that is.

On the way home, we stopped at Wal-Mart to get Caleb a tie and to buy more Scotch tape.  Everybody runs off with my tape and scissors…and evidently they flush it down the loo, because it is never seen again; Nobody knows what Anybody did with it.  I want to tie Everyone’s ears behind their heads and bang their heads together when I need tape and scissors and there is none to be found.  Aaarrrggghhh!

Men’s tie styles now are about three feet wide.  The boys’ ties weren’t too bad, although there weren’t many that were long enough for Caleb, and the only colors were navy and black.  Sooo…we had to get one in the men’s section.

“Daddy will tie it for you,” I told Caleb, “leaving only a little bit of a tail, so as to make use of the narrowest part of the tie possible, and you’ll have to tuck the fat end into your pants.”

“Or, better yet, your socks,” amended Larry later, “and let’s hope you don’t trip over it.”

Wouldn’t you know, Hester’s trial contact ripped that morning--and that was why she especially wanted to get contacts: to wear them to the Christmas Program.  She then planned to go contactless and glassesless, because she doesn’t like how she looks in glasses, and because I did not want to go back to Wal-Mart.  I had too much to do!  I had too much to do!  I had too much to do!  I had too much to do!

 

I wrapped presents…curled hair…wrapped presents…curled hair…  And at 4:30 p.m., I took Hester to Wal-Mart for a new contact.  (I never can stand not to do that sort of thing, when the child really wants something, and I can provide it…)  Anyway, I needed batteries for my camera flash and for Mama’s musical bird fountain.  It was a jolly good thing we went to Wal-Mart when we did; they were closing at 5:00.

Our church service that evening started at 7:00 p.m.  We had a song service first, singing many of our favorite old Christmas hymns.  Then the choir sang, and after that Robert preached a sermon from Luke 2: 

8)         And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 
        {Notice that the shepherds were ‘abiding’.  This word is often used in the Bible to signify that a person is in God’s perfect will.  See I Corinthians 7:24:  “Brethren, let every man, wherein he is called, therein abide with God” and John 15:10:  “If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love; even as I have kept my Father's commandments, and abide in his love” and Psalms 91:1:  “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”
      Also, it says they were ‘keeping watch’.  That indicates that they were faithful--and mark when:  ‘by night’.  Yes, the world was in ‘night’--the prophetic verses in Isaiah 9 says the world was ‘in darkness’--meaning, evil abounded, and most of humanity knew nothing at all about God.  Nevertheless, the shepherds were faithfully keeping watch…and it was to that sort of men that God sent His angels with the Wonderful News.  They were not only humble and lowly, they were also trustworthy and true.}

9)         And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

10)     And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

11)     For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

12)     And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

13)     And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
         {When we look around at this ol’ world with all its troubles, it surely doesn’t seem like the angels’ prophecy came true, does it?  Can you find ‘peace on earth’?  If you can, is it lasting peace?  No, of course not.  But remember this:  God doesn’t look at the surface of things:  I Samuel 16:7:  “For the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.”
       Sooo…that tells us that the peace God has promised is in our hearts, where, if it is real peace, heavenly peace, God-given peace, man cannot take it away, no matter what.  Isn’t that wonderful?!}

After the sermon, the program began.  I think there is no music I love more than the dear old Christmas songs.  Through the years, we have found obscure Christmas songs in old books…new Christmas songs in new books…added them to our catalogue of old, well-known Christmas songs…until now I think there are well over a hundred songs in our Christmas notebooks.

The very instant the small children were done singing--in fact, some were still warbling the last note--one little boy spun a perfect 90° and stood ready to go marching off the platform.  In the middle of one song, a little girl in the front row suddenly sneezed, making the small girl beside her whirl around and stare at her in amazement.

When the program was over, the young people, ages eleven and up, passed out gifts and cards while the men handed out sacks of nuts, candy, and fruit.

When we got home, we exchanged gifts with Dorcas, Hester, Lydia, Caleb, and Victoria.  

After Dorcas went to Mama’s house and the children went to bed and Larry conked out in his recliner, I launched into my usual after-the-program ritual:  going through all our Christmas cards and pulling out all the pictures.  Goodness, what a stack we got!  That’s my favorite thing to receive--pictures.

Wednesday morning, Larry worked in the garage, cleaning and putting things into boxes.

Our Christmas dinner at church was at 1:00 p.m.  We had ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, buns with strawberry jelly, corn, orange jello salad, pistachio jello salad, and a choice of either pecan or apple pie with whipped cream on top.

Lawrence and Norma sat by us, and so did Larry’s Uncle Clyde and Aunt Joan.  Uncle Clyde is Norma’s brother.  Uncle Clyde and Larry got into one of their good-natured spats, with Larry making wisecracks and Uncle Clyde threatening to take him down and sit on him.

“I might be old,” warned Uncle Clyde, “but I still have some fight left in me!”

He hasn’t changed since I first knew him--and that was when I was so little, I don’t ever remember not knowing him.

After the dinner, we took Mama her gifts.  Loren and Janice were there when we arrived.  Loren had purchased a big mailbox for us from one of his customers.  The man had hand-painted a country scene--black silhouettes of cows and a windmill on dark, burnished brown.  It’s really pretty.  They gave us other things for our new house, too, and gifts to all the children.  Victoria especially loves a teeny, tiny musical glass snowglobe with a wee teddy bear inside.

After cleaning up the wrapping-paper-and-boxes mess we’d made of Mama’s house and coming home again, we went for a ride.  We stopped at one of the few open convenience stores for milk and Strawberry Smoothers for the children, which some declared absolutely delicious, and others insisted were positively yuck.  Anyway, the coffee was fine.  So, sipping on our delicious, yuck, and fine beverages, we drove around town and looked at Christmas lights.

Home again, I wrote thank-you notes.  I always wonder what to do about thanking the menfolk for the things they gave Larry; I don’t know who gave him what, and anytime I am writing notes, he is going off to the Land of Nod--and, as you may recall from years gone by, when he is in such a state he seems to think everyone gave him screwdrivers, even if he got nary a one that year.

That night, I noticed that the fish tank was getting dirty.  Let’s see, it had been how long since I cleaned it?  Six months already?  Boy, oh boy, how the time flies.  (It was just last Friday, actually.  So much for the Only-Clean-Your-Fish-Tank-Every-Six-Months syrup.

Larry didn’t have to work either Wednesday or Thursday--it was a paid holiday.  He and his coworkers all got three new shirts and a new hat from Walker Construction, along with a picture of David.

Thursday I packed…and packed…and packed.  Did you know that boxes full of big albums are heavy?  At about 4:00 p.m., I sent Lydia out to put a couple of bags full of stuff for the Goodwill into the Suburban.

“Just set it on my seat,” I said.

She opened the door and peered out.  “Or how about if I just set it on the driveway?”

I looked at her.  “Huh?” I asked.

She grinned at me and explained:  “The Suburban isn’t there.”

Larry had taken it, because he had gone to Fremont that morning for some vital parts for his pickup, and he now had it with him out where he was working on his pickup, some five miles west of town.  But I needed to go to the grocery store to get food for our 7:00 supper at Keith’s house that night!!!

I called him.

“I’ll be coming home at 6:00,” he told me.

“Could you pick up some groceries on the way home?” I asked.

“Well, sure, I could,” he responded cheerfully.  “Do you think they’ll mind just giving it to me, because I don’t have any money?”

“Aauugghh!” I said articulately.

He’d have to come home for some money first.

“Can you come home sooner?” I queried.

“Yep!” answered Larry.  “I’ll try.”

“We’ll be late tonight,” I told the kids.

And we were.

Larry came home, got some money, went to the store for twelve cans of green beans, French-fried onions (cheddar-flavored, something new), mushroom soup; and bunches of raw vegetables--celery, radishes, cauliflower, broccoli, and carrots--and three cartons of dip--ranch, salsa, and jalapeño cheddar.  By the time he got home, it was a quarter till seven--and green bean casserole, after all those cans are opened and dumped into big baking pans, takes 25 minutes to bake!

So of course we were late.

Kenny was pleased that we were later than they were.  He’d been at Menard’s when he saw Larry wheeling into Hy-Vee, and he told Annette, “We have nothing to worry about; we’ll beat them there easy.” 

We had a good time together--and plenty of good food:  turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, two different kinds of fruit salad, green bean casserole, pigs-in-a-blanket, buns, cranberry jello salad, pink lemonade, cookies of all species and breeds, and…fudge.  Lawrence prayed, and then everybody lined up and dived in.

Esther always has their house fixed up so pretty.  They have a beautiful new cherry wood bedroom set.

The boys went off to play football for a little while at Pawnee Park--wearing off their food, I suppose.  Keith had a sore rib from trying to tackle somebody in the middle of a previous football game--but he missed and landed flat on the frozen ground.  They all promised faithfully that they would not hurt themselves--and, for the most part, they kept their word, although Bobby did come in limping a bit.  He has a knee that always bothers him when he goes at anything hammer and tongs.

Let’s see…how many people were there?

1.      Larry

2.      Sarah Lynn

3.      Dorcas

4.      Hester

5.      Lydia

6.      Caleb

7.      Victoria

8.      Keith

9.      Esther

10.   Bobby

11.   Hannah

12.   Aaron

13.   Teddy

14.   Amy

15.   Lawrence

16.   Norma

17.   Kenny

18.   Annette

19.   Katie

20.   Nathan

21.   Charlie

22.   Rachel

23.   Olivia

24.   Amanda

25.   Katharine

Later, the Other Jacksons departed, and we exchanged gifts with our married offspring--Keith and Esther, Bobby and Hannah (and Aaron, of course), and Teddy and Amy.

           As usual, the kids are eating too, too much candy.  I had told them when we decorated the Christmas tree that just as soon as Christmas was over, they could have some of the candy canes--and they did not forget.  Victoria invariably eats the little end of her cane first--so as to keep the long part long as long as possible, don’t you know--and she winds up sticking the other end--which is always sticky, on account of her not being able to resist licking it now and then--into her hair, onto her forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, and neck.  How one candy cane can create so very much sticky on one small girl is entirely beyond me.
 

After we came home, we all lounged about between the moving boxes (that is, the boxes were not actually moving.  By themselves, they were quite stationary.  What I mean is, they were packed for Moving Day) and admired our gifts.  I decided that everyone simply had to have a bowl of fruit to offset the cookies and candy, and then I sent them all off to take showers and baths.

Friday, I was back to packing things…and I didn’t seem to get much done.  I feel like a mouse trying to dispatch a cheese the size of the moon.  But one way or a-tuther, I’ll get ’er done, I will I will I will!

We must be a magnet for stray cats.  There is a cat that has been staying under the playhouse next door in my sister’s yard.  He looks a bit like Tad, our poor ill-fated kitten.  As such, the children think we really must keep him, no matter that we have the city’s quota of Cat Per Household.  After all! --we’re moving out of the city limits soon, aren’t we?!

No, children; we cannot have another cat.  Caleb doesn’t need any cats; we already have three too many.

Hester took the poor thing a handful of food, and it gobbled it up like it was starving.  I called the Animal Shelter to find out if anyone had reported a cat missing, but no one had.  That set in motion something the children weren’t so sure they wanted to happen:  the Animal Control officer headed straight over to collect the feline!

Hester went out to entice the kitty out of its hidey hole--but as soon as the officer pulled up in her Blazer and started getting some things out of it, making quite a lot of noise, the cat fled for its hole--and I don’t think Hester did much to stop it.  It wouldn’t come back out, and the lady couldn’t reach it, so she went away catless.

And Hester was glad.  She called Teddy and Amy to ask if they wanted it; but Teddy doesn’t need a cat any more than Caleb does, and, besides, they may not be allowed to have a cat in their house, as they are only renting.  Hester brought the cat into the garage and put it into Victoria’s carriage so that potential adoptive parents could have a look at it, but the poor thing was scared out of its wits and found a way to get out where Hester hadn’t snapped it at the bottom.  I let it outside.  Hester followed with a bowl of our best cat food--and my sister brought it a bowl of water.  Milquetoast, that’s what we are.  When it concerns animals, that is.  Runs in the family.

That afternoon, Dorcas finally went to the dentist, after thinking for the last few weeks that it was her wisdom tooth coming in that was causing all the pain.  Well, she was wrong.  It was a back molar, one another dentist had ten years ago put a little sealant on after brushing out a bit of a cavity--but, according to this dentist, it should have had a real, honest-to-goodness filling.  So the cavity returned full force and then some, and has now gotten so bad that the tooth could not be saved; the dentist had to pull it.  It was crumbling, and he couldn’t get out a little piece of the root; I hope it doesn’t cause her trouble.  The dentist said it might work its way out eventually.  Aiiiyiiiyii.

Along about bedtime, the kiddos seemed to be suffering from Lack of Mother Due to Serious Packing, so, for starters, I read one of Victoria’s new American Girl books, ‘Kirstin On The Trail’, to her.  When that was done, I played Scrabble with Hester, Lydia, and Caleb while Victoria took a frothy bubble bath with all her new bath toys, including a mother dinosaur with three babies that ride on her back, given her by Keith and Esther.  (Is a baby dinosaur a dinette?)

A couple of the Walker cousins gave Caleb and Victoria soft red plaid flannel rice bags.  They warm the bags up in the microwave and put them around their necks, or take them to bed and put them at their feet.  Caleb and Victoria love those things, they sho’ ’nuff do.  Every night, the faint scent of warm rice wafts through the house, and then off they go to bed, giggling happily, rice bags pressed against their cheeks.  Funny what things turn out to be the favorites, isn’t it?

Saturday, I continued with the packing, in spite of the fact that the children thought another game of Scrabble was definitely in order.  This time, I filled a couple of boxes with albums and some books, and then I launched into one of the closets, in which were shirts from boys’ size 18 clear up to men’s size 16--Teddy’s left-behinds.  I sorted them all into separate boxes--small short-sleeved, small long-sleeved, medium short-sleeved, medium long-sleeved, large short-sleeved, large long-sleeved.  Oh, and bag after bag for the Goodwill.

Caleb kept me company everywhere I went, bringing a tape player so we could listen to his new set of tapes, Snow Treasure.  It’s the true story of the Norwegian children who successfully carried their country’s gold down the snowy mountain on their sleds during WWII so it could be shipped to safety in America--practically right under the invading Nazi soldiers’ noses.  Quite a story.

Out in the kitchen, Hester made fudge from a jar mix a friend of mine gave me.  It turned out scrumptious--but so sweet, it seemed like we were eating nothing but frosting.  But eat it we did.  And with aplomb, too!  Mmmmmm…

I didn’t quite finish the closet before it was time to curl the girls’ hair and send everyone to bed.

After several more hours of work, Larry got the new motor in his pickup running.  It sounds great--but he needs new batteries.  He has a hard time starting it--but once it’s started, it runs fine.

He drove the pickup out to The Lot, to show it the way to its new home, I suppose.  The Old Man of the Junkyard spotted him and rushed over to have a talk with him.  He and his wife were upset because Jim C.--the ‘developer’ and seller of the property we bought, who lives northeast of our place--demolished their strawberry patch with his loader, and because he plans to run a road right where they think their property is.  (Their house is west of ours.)  According to Jim C., however, that is not their property.

And now Larry told me that Jim C. doesn’t really want us to use his lane; he’d rather we use a new road south of our lot--right where Richard A. doesn’t want us to drive.  However, our eventual garage will face Jim C.’s lane…and he knows that…so he came up with the perfect solution for us:  “Put in a road on the east side of your property, too.”

That way, we can drive all the way around our house, right through what we expected would be our lawn, to get to the garage.  Fantastic formula, eh?  And of course, we would be delighted to have a thoroughfare all the way around our house, now wouldn’t we.  Pave the planet!

The best solution, I think, is for us to simply invest in a helicopter and get rid of all our vehicles.  That should solve the entire problem.  No more playing Musical Motors, either.  Aaaarrrrgggghhhh.  I think it’s time to start doling out the muffins.  Oh, and we must act sweet, too.  Accommodating.  Neighborly.  Gracious.  Obliging.

Do banana nut muffins taste good with a cup of cayenne pepper added to the mix?

Later, Larry went to help Keith with his new garage door.  It wasn’t working right; the people who sold it to him gave him faulty instructions.  Keith knows what to do when that happens:  call his father.

As Lydia fervently stated when she was two, “My Daddy can fix anything.”

And she’s just about right, too.

Oh!  Larry met the white dog yesterday, the one Jim C. said was mean, mean, mean; he was wandering around loose.  (The dog; not Jim C.)  (Well, Jim C. was wandering around loose, too, come to think of it.)  And guess what?  Larry got on fine with him; he was trotting around with his tail flagging in friendly fashion.  Now…if he will only be nice to Piglets…

Teddy came to have Larry cut his hair that evening, and he brought chocolate pretzels and cookies Amy had made of Ritz crackers spread with peanut butter and dipped in chocolate.  If that was payment for the haircut, we’ll go right on playing Barbershop, won’t we, though! 

Saturday morning, I found the kids having candy canes for breakfast when I finished washing my hair.

“Nice breakfast,” I said sarcastically.  “Put that candy down and go eat some cereal and toast!”

They trotted off to do my bidding, and then had candy canes for dessert.

By this time, the bubble gum, strawberry, and blueberry-flavored ones were done et up, and nothing was left but cinnamon.  Those things are really, really hot.  Not long later, I found the bathroom sink half full of bright pink water, the edges sticky--and down at the bottom were two pieces of a bright red-and-pink-striped candy cane.

“What in the world is this in my sink??!” I demanded.

“Oh,” said Victoria, coming down the hall, giggling a little, slightly embarrassed, “I was soaking my candy cane in cold water so it wouldn’t be so hot.”

About 7:00 p.m., Larry’s cousin (let’s see, it must be his first cousin once removed) Laureen called.  She is Gordon’s mother…remember Gordon?  He lives here in town, works at Larsen Truck International.  Gordon, it seemed, was stranded in Yankton, South Dakota.  He had been on his way home from his folks’ ranch when his pickup gave up the ghost.  Happens to the best of us, aye?

So Larry called Gordon on his cell phone.

“Hello?” said Gordon.

“Hello!” said Larry in his cheery way, “Is this Gordon The Stranded?”

I heard Gordon laugh.

Gordon told Larry where he was, and immediately after church Larry and Caleb left to rescue him.  Larry borrowed a friend’s car trailer so that he could bring Gordon’s pickup back.  They were gone by the time I got home from Mama’s house.

While I was yet there, Teddy and Amy came, bringing Mama a pretty little needlepoint pillow with a bluejay on it and the words, ‘Let Heaven and Nature Sing’.  Then another friend came, bringing Mama a $10 gift card to Hy-Vee.

She said just what she always says:  “Oh my goodness, you shouldn’t have.”

Then Dorcas arrived to stay with Mama, and next Victoria popped in--sans coat.

“Brrrr!” I exclaimed, “Where’s your coat?!”

“At home,” she replied breezily.

That’s a sure sign that her father took her to church.  Well, he was hot, you know!

Larry and Caleb got home slightly after four in the morning, having deposited Gordon and his pickup at his house.  And off we went to bed, then, to sleep as fast as ever we could.  Think:  if you are accustomed to six hours of sleep, and then find yourself only able to sleep two, you have to sleep three times faster than normal, right?

So that goes to show you:  a good grasp of mathematics is all you need to get a good night’s sleep, every night.

Ɓðñŭş ņöӂ!--as they used to say in ancient Rome.  {‘Good night’.}