A couple of weeks ago, Lydia had chicken pox, and we knew it was just a matter of time before the other three littles followed suit, for none of them had had the virus.
Well, last Tuesday had not progressed very far at all when it was confirmed: Victoria had chicken pox. She still felt well, however, and therefore considered it a novel and jolly experience, a viewpoint that would last less than twenty-four hours. And then — uh, oh… It occurred to me: that meant that our little grandchildren, Aaron and Joanna, had been exposed. Aauugghh, poor little kiddos. Poor Hannah!
I was heading up the stairs when I saw it: a lizard on the floor. For a minute or two I couldn’t tell if it was real, or if it was one of those rubbery things Dorcas had given the children that, after soaking in water for a day or two, grows to three times its original size. But it was real, all right; or at least it had been, until it expired. Yuck! It looked like a short garter snake with legs.
That afternoon, while the children put wood chips around the north flower arrangement, I watered the roses. Keith came home from work with Larry and helped water the lawn. He has always enjoyed yard work, but he has allergies, and sometimes winds up with his nose all stuffy and his chest hurting.
Teddy and Amy stopped by, bringing a chair we’d forgotten at their house. Teddy tried out Larry’s ‘new’ motorcycle, a Honda 250 MT, and Hester and I both at the same time accused him of wanting to ride the motorcycle as the real reason he’d come, not because he was so considerate as to bring the chair back. He denied it – and then laughed and admitted it.
Esther came later to collect Keith home again, and I startled her by running toward her car, grabbing up a stick, and pointing and gesturing like I’d taken leave of my senses. Actually, I was only pointing at Winston The Neighbor Dog, who comes happily wagging to greet every visitor we have, even if we’ve just chased him home. (The dog, not the visitor.) And Larry had done just that, because Winston, horrid beast, had chased Kitty! Of all the nerve.
I yelled for him to go; he didn’t go fast enough; so I flung the stick at him. I’d’ve hit him, too, but I made the mistake of yelling at the same time I threw the stick, and he ducked, so the stick flew harmlessly over his head. Made his ears fly up and his feet pick up speed, though.
A bit later, Caleb came to give me a goodnight kiss.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, “You’re so hot! And,” I added, sniffing at him, “Your breath smells feverish.”
“That’s funny!” he replied, “I feel just fine!”
He went up the stairs to bed – and then came back down holding his head.
“I’m dizzy,” he told me, “and my head hurts.”
Larry laughed. “You shouldn’t have told him he was feverish; you made him sick!”
But I knew that he was hot enough that simply trekking up the steps had been enough to let him know: he was sick.
Wednesday morning, we were putting groceries away when suddenly I noticed: Hester had a chicken pock (is that the proper singular form of ‘chicken pox’?). Caleb still had a fever and felt sick, and I expected to see spots on him at any moment; and Victoria’s throat was hurting.
That left only Lydia and I to water the LTB. (Lawn To Be). Did you know that, when there is no grass in certain areas, and the ground’s makeup is clay, and you water it, did you know that it gets slippery? And did you know that, when you try to walk in this stuff, and it’s an inch or more deep, and you are trying to go downhill, did you know that, once your feet start flying out from under you faster than you can put them back under, did you know that you look exactly like a professional lumberjack in a log-rolling contest, only more so? And did you know that, once you turn into a Tripod On a Hill, stomach side up, did you know that it’s Anybody’s guess whether you or gravity is going to win?
Luckily, I won. I did not wish to sit in the mud right before church, thank you very much.
I cut the rose bushes down to about four inches of nothing but stem; hopefully, the roots will take hold now; we’ll see. Anyway, the price was right; they were growing unkempt alongside a country lane. If they die, it will only be thirty minutes of hard work – Larry’s, not mine – that will be lost.
It was windy that day. The big white wicker chair blew off the porch, landing amongst the columbine, which are blooming profusely. I set it inside the house, and now there is hardly any room to walk in the kitchen.
Lydia and I were the only ones who went to church that night, leaving Larry home with the chicken‑poxies.
After church, Hannah related a story about a recent dinner at her in-laws: They were having some troubles with flies, and, after watching everyone shooing the flies away, Aaron decided to solve the problem, and he knew just how to do it, too. He marched into the kitchen, came trotting back, flyswatter in hand, and, without a moment’s hesitation, aimed for the first fly he spotted: SPLAAAAAATTT!!! Trouble was, he’d swatted a fly that had been sitting smack in the middle of somebody’s plate. Chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and peas flew, as did several of the people. Leaping to their feet, yelling in amazement and consternation, they gave futile effort to dusting gravy and potatoes off their fronts.
Aaron, meanwhile, was silently examining his flyswatter, wondering why he’d come up with so much excess this-and-that when all he’d been aiming at was the fly.
Last week, Larry traded a bunch of six-wheeler tires and a few six-wheeler parts for a Honda three-wheeler and a Honda 350 motorcycle. The motorcycle he gave to Keith for all the work he’s done for us. Keith has been in need of some wheels; he sold his car recently and now they have only one. The reason Larry got such a good deal was because the owners couldn’t get either vehicle to run, and thought they were no good. Larry, of course, promptly got them running with no problem whatsoever. I think he could get anything to run. Even things without motors: My roll-top desk. My bookcase. The recliner. Well…maybe not the recliner.
That evening, Larry put some wood chips on one of my south flower arrangements, and then finished watering the LTB. When Lydia and I got home, he and the three c‑poxies were watching a video of Rev. W. A. Criswell (preacher of the largest Baptist Church in the States).
By Thursday, there were no lingering doubts: all three kids, Hester, Caleb, and Victoria, had chicken pox. And do they ever. Caleb is still not as badly broken out as the girls, but every time I see him, he’s got a few more spots. They are downright miserable, with sore throats, headaches, fevers, and swollen lymph nodes in addition to the awful pox itself.
Victoria was being very careful not to scratch her face, because she doesn’t want scars. “It’s harder than you think it is, not to scratch!” she informed me.
A short while later, she remarked, “Well, nobody’s going to be looking at my back,” and, with that, she scratched her back with all her might and main. She stopped abruptly and grimaced. “That didn’t feel as good as you’d think it would,” she advised us mournfully.
I cleaned out the fish tank and then, lacking something really, really, really consequential to do, I caught up my reading of the last two days of newspapers, then burned them, along with all the rest of the garbage, in spite of the windy day. I heard on the radio that fire danger was ‘extreme’ from Columbus to Broken Bow and north; and it’s been the same every day since. Farther west, it’s worse – ‘extraordinary’. I could have watered the lawn – or seed, as it were; but decided to let Larry have his turn slogging about in the mud. He thinks it’s an easy job to move sprinklers around, but I have a hard time pulling those long hoses here and there.
I was thundering away on the piano, practicing a recalcitrant section of Called Unto Holiness, going over it again and again, when I looked up and there stood the insurance lady, right inside my door. She said nothing, just stood there, wide-eyed, doubtless appalled at the piles of boxes adorning the living room, and wondering why I was so lazy as to be playing the piano instead of putting things away.
After collecting her wits, she asked the requisite questions about the house, then mentioned, “I notice that you’ve been planting flowers,” and, further, “You have a nice house here.”
‘Niceties,’ that’s what people say, all in a hurry, when they are caught staring, and realize you know they are really thinking, Good grief! What a mess.
After Larry got off work that day, he took Walkers’ boom truck out to Oconee (a small village nearby wherein dwell an old man, an old woman, one beaver, and a young family of meadow voles) and collected what decent railroad ties he could find, even getting some big trestle ties.
“I’ll sharpen my old chain and use it,” he said, “so as not to ruin the new one from all the creosote.”
Keith helped him get the ties off the truck bed. Then, while Larry and I took the boom truck back to the shop, Keith and Lydia went to Menards for a switch box for the basement.
By Friday, Caleb was quite covered with ‘picken chox’ (as he calls them). Hester’s face looks terrible. Victoria’s skinned knee is awful. Why do chicken pox cover any blemish or sore with all their might and main? The poor kids are miserable. They keep taking lukewarm baths, letting the water soothe them.
I again spent a good deal of the morning and afternoon watering the lawn. I’d just finished curling my hair, and it had turned out just right – and then I went outside, and the wind blew it to smithereens. How much does it cost for underground sprinklers? Over $1,000, I’ll betcha. Guess I’ll go on dragging hose for a while. A long while.
All over these trees of ours, baby birds are perched, squawking for their parents to hurry up with the bugs and worms, please, and thank you ever so kindly. Some of them can’t fly well enough or fast enough to save themselves from the cats. Why won’t they get up in the top of a tree and stay there??!
Since most Everything there is to do in this house requires Larry to do Something first, before I can do Anything, I decided to sew some of those things I cut out last fall. Here’s what I have left to sew:
1. navy w/rust hearts cotton jumper Lydia
2. tan cotton blouse Lydia
3. rust satin blouse Hester
4. rust satin blouse Victoria
5. navy satin quilted, down-filled coat Bobby?
6. blue/red striped cotton jumper Lydia
7. black on black striped jacket Lydia
8. dress w/bright Indian print corduroy
& skirt and bright yellow corduroy bodice Victoria
9. strawberry calico and check skirt Hester
10. strawberry vest Hester
11. navy denim overalls Aaron
12. navy denim engineer’s hat Aaron
13. charcoal denim overalls Aaron
14. charcoal denim engineer’s hat Aaron
15. brown striped western shirt Aaron
16. dusty green single-knit skirt and top Lydia
17. red calico top & skirt Hester
I have sewn more than I thought I had. I am well past half-way through; I think I cut out 44 or 45 things. I decided to start with the strawberry calico and check skirt and vest for Hester.
When I told Larry I’d given up on the house and gone back to sewing, would you believe, he promptly got himself up to Victoria’s cubbyhole and finished it?!
Here’s something I overheard as Caleb and Victoria were playing with their various cars, trucks, and Barbie dolls:
“This van goes clear to … um … that place where Chinese people live,” declared Victoria.
Caleb asked helpfully, “China?”
“Oh, yeah!” responded Victoria, “That’s it!”
hee hee That’s sort of like the man who went into the drugstore and asked for ‘acetylsalicylic acid’ – because he couldn’t remember the word ‘aspirin’.
My friend Linda called, wondering if I wanted some irises. I sho’ ’nuff did, I did! She gave me three big boxes stuffed full of the pretty, fragrant flowers.
Saturday morning, a baby robin, every bit as big as his mother, was chasing her around in the field next to us, screaming and yelling for a worm. Now and then, he caught up with her and pecked her good and proper, the little brat. I once saw a mother robin who, upon getting pecked by her baby, whirled around and pecked him, sending him rolling for a row of hitchracks. You’d better believe, that baby behaved, after that.
The baby blackbirds, all fledged now, screech their heads off when a parent lands nearby – and the hilarious thing is, they go on screeching, even when the parent is cramming a worm down their maws. They sound kind of clogged up around the gullet for a second or two, but the worm goes down, in spite of their shrieking.
First order of business that day: planting irises. By now, the grounds around this house have gotten packed down, and digging is not the piece of cake it used to be. It wasn’t until about 5:30 that the flowers were all planted. Lydia and I watered them and then put the last of the wood chips around them.
Larry came home from work, bringing Keith with him. They stopped at our new neighbor’s house, where his brother Kenny was pouring a sidewalk or a driveway or something, but he was missing half the things he needed to do the job: stakes and a level. He’d put everything into his pickup – and then driven a different pickup. So Larry came home, collected a few stray pieces of wood, and, with his table saw, made an armload of stakes. Later, Kenny borrowed our log splitter so as to split some wood at Lawrence and Norma’s house.
Larry and Keith did nothing much more than work on their three-wheeler and motorcycle, respectively.
“I don’t like those things,” I informed them, “because they keep my house from getting done.”
Father and son assured me that, the instant those bikes and trikes were running properly, they’d be right back to working on the house.
“Sherrrrrrr,” I said sarcastically to the elder Jackson. “Have you forgotten how many years of experience I have had with you?”
Father and son had the audacity to laugh.
Larry did water a bit of the lawn – and then he drove his three-wheeler right through a muddy spot, collecting gobs of grass seed as he went.
“Be sure you pick each seed off and replant it,” I ordered him.
Tabby, horrid beast, caught a baby eastern kingbird and brought it into the house. Earlier, he carried a mouse into the house. Today he hauled in another lizard. When I put him and his prize outside, he immediately tries to bring it straight back in. We put the blocker in the pet door, and he keeps right on bonking his head on it in repeated attempts to enter. Some creatures – both human and animal – learn with more difficulty than others.
Finishing outside, I set about carrying a couple dozen boxes of still-too-big-for-Victoria dresses from the basement all the way up to Victoria’s cubbyhole, two flights up. Those boxes filled less than half of that cubbyhole. I’d intended to scrub the closet floor and then hang up all of Victoria’s dresses that have been in a stack beside her bed since we moved in; but I ran completely out of V’s – that is, vim, vigor, and vitality.
Once I had the boxes nicely in order, I put the waistband onto Hester’s skirt, and then it was done. There are about 45 minutes of sewing left on the vest, and the outfit will be complete. Then I will make the navy jumper with the tan-and-rust-colored hearts and the tan blouse for Lydia. The outfits will be just the things for the girls for the Fourth of July.
Larry emptied the ashes from the burn barrel, and Lydia and I hauled out the garbage. Then Larry lit a big old carpet that had been loitering at the back of the house, and we had to rush around closing all the windows in the house, because the wind was blowing toward the house, and that thing stank.
Lydia made apple streusel cake, and then Dorcas brought us sugar/cinnamon rolls. 'Hoink.' {Shades of Hester at age two.}
I’ve been listening to the baseball game as I type; we are playing Missouri, and the score is 16 to 2 in our favor. Maybe I’ll become a baseball fan, rather than a football fan. {I’m a fan of whoever happens to be winning at the time; that way I can say my team won.}
Larry took Lydia to church Sunday morning, and I stayed home with the chicken-pox kids. They are still miserable. Sunday evening, it was just Lydia and I, while Larry stayed home with the others.
My office is not as nice and neat as it used to be, because Victoria has moved in with her Little Tikes house and all the accessories, and Caleb has come in with a Phantom Airforce jet and an old plane from WWII (something less than full size), along with a crane, a loader, and a road grader. It may not be nice and neat, but I tell you, things are definitely going to get done around here.
(And it is much cozier with the addition of these two lovable little people.)
Now, off to the sewing machine! But first I’d better see if the sprinklers need to be moved.
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