Sarah Lynn's Nature's Splendor: Quilts and Kids and Puppies and Birds and Smart Cars

Last week was a busy one, for I had three customer quilts to do. She’d already paid me, and she needed them for Christmas gifts – and of course she has to put the binding on when she gets them back again.

An elderly lady wrote to a quilting forum, saying, “My sons have threatened to throw all my quilting stuff in the dumpster when I pass on to the happy quilting ground. I told them not to because it is worth thousands of dollars. This has me worried. What should I do? Help”

She wasn’t kidding, nor were her sons trying to be funny. Good grief, some people’s offspring are going to pay someday for the mean things they say to their parents.

“You could make arrangements for your nearest quilting group to come and get your things when you pass away,” I wrote. “Write it into your will, tell your lawyer now, and warn the quilting group to hurry, after you die.

“Sew fast, between now and then. And threaten the offspring with nothing but a shiny new penny, should the quilting group find nothing left when they arrive.”

My sister sent me an email, mentioned something she’d intended to do – “...but I didn’t get around to it and I can’t for the life of me remember where I put that little round ‘tuit’ that you gave me. Do you suppose that would help?”

“Here you are,” I replied. “I had borrowed it, but I’m ready to relax now.” And I sent this picture, which is similar to an actual little wooden disk I gave her some years ago.

Larry fixed his big air compressor last Monday night, cutting new gaskets for it and installing them. Now it builds up the proper amount of pressure again. There must be a little leak somewhere, though, because now and then the motor comes on, if it’s left turned on.

That evening, I uploaded the photos I took at Long Pine last Saturday: A Vacation Day at Long Pine

Norma told us that night that the tests from Lawrence’s surgery showed that he does have prostate cancer. Other tests were clean. He was given a shot to slow the cancer down. He feels a little stronger now.

Here’s a cross-stitch quilt Norma finished recently:

Now here’s a question recently posed to quilting ladies: What do you put in the crockpot on a sewing day when you don’t later wish to be interrupted by food preparation?

I know, I know! Put a note in there reading, “Subway is good.”

Actually, I like beef roast, potatoes, carrots, and onions. With Lipton onion soup mix and a bit of water sprinkled over the lot.

I’ve been picking up the little Jackson kiddos from school lately, as Amy isn’t feeling well. She has some troubles with her thyroid not working properly, which totally saps her energy. She got some medicine Saturday, but it takes a bit of time to take effect.

If she doesn’t have to wake the little guys up early from their naps each afternoon and cart them off to town to collect the older children, she still has enough energy left to fix supper.

So, in the interest of food on the table in another Jackson house, I shall be entertained each afternoon by five of them. I take along my cross-stitching and see what I can get done, while I’m waiting at the school.

Wednesday was a rainy, foggy day – foggy, that is, until the wind picked up. And pick up it did, until it was blowing at a steady 40 mph. The Nebraska Panhandle got four inches of snow.

I cut my hair that morning, washed the dishes and put the kitchen into some semblance of order, and then got back to my customer’s quilt.

There's a blog I like to read now and then, as it has all kinds of good recipes and craft patterns, sometimes with bargains on silk ribbon, buttons, and suchlike. But my goodness, it can be hard to read, as the punctuation is often lacking entirely, and one of the nice ladies who contributes to it – we’ll called her ‘Matilda’ – has a penchant for writing ‘threw’ instead of ‘through’.

Well, one day I emailed a friend who also reads this blog, asking about a particular recipe – and, wouldn’t you just know it, I typed ‘through’ instead of ‘throw’. ‘Through the equation into it,’ I wrote.

I noticed the error as soon as I clicked ‘Send’. So I fired off another email:

“Throw!” Throw, throw, throw! I meant throw!”

Good heavens, Matilda is getting to me. My subconscious evidently feels I must write ‘through’ instead of ‘threw’ (or ‘throw’) to make up for all the times she writes ‘threw’ instead of ‘through’. She wrote ‘threw out the house’ the other day, and it stopped me dead in my tracks as I was scanning rapidly through threw through her post.

Yeah, I like good grammar. And I notice bad grammar. I try to be polite like my mother taught me, and only correct my very own children’s grammar, and not after they’re all grown up and married. Unless I can’t help it.

(Usually after I correct someone else’s grammar, I make a Big Bad Blunder of my own, heh.)

And now having discussed grammar, I snickered and chortled all the way through Matilda’s latest post. I do like the lady! But me oh my, it strains my brain, reading her blogs. Sometimes it doesn’t make a lick of sense until the third time throu------ uh, threw. bwaahhaha

Another thing that drives me plumb berserk is when a post is written all in caps.

But then... my besetting sin is leaving off the “n’t” on various words. I tell you, you can insult a whole lot of people all at once really fast, leaving off “n’t”s!

Remember my gripe last week about over-fussy people who pitch fits because others don’t change the subject line of their emails to match the content of said email? Well, here’s an example that gives credence to their side of the matter:

The subject line was ‘NYE Mystery Quilt Poll’. But as the discussion continued, the topic veered from the quilt poll to housing issues.

One woman helpfully wrote, “Go to the department for elderly affairs.”

That was all, there wasn’t any more, as Ludwig Bemelmans of the Madeline books wrote. The lady had righteously deleted the entire rest of the email she was answering – while leaving the subject line intact.

Now people all over the globe think they need to go to the Department for Elderly Affairs to vote in the NYE Mystery Quilt Poll.

Just look at the picture Caleb sent me of new boxer puppy, Sadie. Now, that is one absolutely adorable puppy!

By the time I needed to go pick kids up from school, the wind had increased to 45 mph in town, higher out here, with gusts up to 60 mph, mixed with intermittent rain. It was only 39°, with a wind chill of 28°. And I had my hair all fixed up cute-like for church! Well, at least I’d cut it, so there wouldn’t be so much of it out of place.

When we got to Teddy and Amy’s house, I had to help the children with the Jeep doors. As I got to the back of the Jeep, walking around to the other side, the wind suddenly gusted so hard, it blew me back a good two steps and nearly lifted me right off my feet. Somebody’s paper got snatched away from their hand and blew far and fast, so there was no retrieving it. But all got safely into the house, with no one losing their footing, which was a miracle.

By the time we left for church, I’d made it to row four of my customer’s quilt. I’d have been to row five, but Victoria absolutely, positively had to make potato soup (complete with bacon, carrots, celery, and various spices) because Kurt would be coming – and these menfolk who are in construction rarely have time to eat supper before Wednesday evening church service. Well, she didn’t get the soup started soon enough, and needed to go get ready, so of course her mother got pressed into service stirring the pot. I went at it for a few minutes... added more carrots... mixed in the flour and butter and cream and seasonings she’d stirred together in a bowl... decided the stuff would burn, if I went on cooking it on the stove, because it was thick – so I poured the whole works into the big slow cooker.

My nice son-in-law Bobby likes to send me bird photos:

I responded, “Well, of course the one on the right’s a male. He was yelling the loudest, got fed first, and his mouth is still full.”

Victoria’s potato soup was a scrumptious success – it was done when we got home from church, and she heated garlic French bread in the oven to go with it. Mmmmm, yummy. We’re reaping some benefits from this dating stuff!

Later, Kurt departed, and Victoria walked out with him to bid him adieu, never mind the weather. It was really howling out there. I saw a Pekingese and a small child go whisking past the window.

...

Not... really.

Do you ever get prayer requests from people you don’t know from Adam, for someone or some cause you have never heard of in your life? We should surely pray for those we love... and now and then we may hear of something that particularly touches our hearts, and thus remember someone we may not even know in prayer – but more often, it’s those we really know for whom we should be praying. I’m unimpressed when I get a request from someone to ‘kindly pray for the stepson of the neighbor of my second cousin thrice removed, who has a badly ingrown toenail’.

What if he’s an atheist and doesn’t even want me to pray for him?? heh!

And then there are those who respond, “Prayers coming your way!”

“Your way?!” They are praying to the petitioner?! But... but... but... we are to pray only to our Heavenly Father!

I still had a wee bit of oomph left that night, so I used it to quilt another row on my customer’s quilt. Upon quitting for the night, I ker-plunked into my recliner and set about making a PayPal account for one of my blind friends. I requested enough information from her that she finally remarked, “You now know more about me than the FBI does!”

“Well, but I’m a lot more harmless than they are!” I retorted.

Thursday my brother made us supper, rather than the other way around. He started a large roast in his slow cooker early in the morning, and put in carrots and onions a little later. It was too full for potatoes, so he brought us some from the store that were wrapped in cellophane and could be cooked in the microwave. I made jello and sent a bowl home with him, along with a small dish of what was left of Victoria’s potato soup from the previous night. It was one of those types of soups that is better on day two.

When I was 9 years old, Loren, who sold sewing machines, gave me a wonderful old mechanical Singer and helped me sew myself a red polka dot headscarf. It was lined with blue silky stuff, had white grosgrain ribbons, and everything. I learned to put right sides together... sew a 5/8” seam... leave a hole to turn it... hand-stitch the hole shut... Turned me into an accomplished seamstress in one fell swoop! Or so I believed.

I thought that scarf was the cat’s meow, particularly since it was made with leftover fabric from my favorite dress. I still have that scarf.

It was windy again that day – winds were blowing at 40 mph – but at least it was sunny, and back up to 54°. I washed three loads of clothes, finished the flannel French braid quilt, and loaded a blue and yellow one on the frame.

That afternoon, I got a sweet (and funny) note from Kurt’s mother Ruth:

“Kurt’s siblings are just as happy for him and Victoria as his parents are. We enjoy it immensely when they come and visit our home! Hopefully the younger ones around here don’t make Victoria wonder what sort of family she is getting into. Brett and I were talking about Victoria and I asked him if he liked her. He said, ‘Yes! She is tall and handsome, especially in her cowgirl outfit!’ We pray that all who enter our home will feel welcome here. We are thankful for good friends like your family as well!”

The ‘cowgirl outfit’ was a full western denim skirt with V’s at the waist, a western melon-colored shirt with fancy, sparkly swirls at the shoulders and upper back, and a straw Stetson.

Bright and early one morning, there was a squirrel stampede up rooftop. I was not nearly ready to get up, and was downright peeved at the cute little rodents.

Speaking of circus, uh, circadian rhythms: I most often live on the ‘wrong side of the clock’, as my early-bird brother once said about me. The night before the early-morning squirrel tap dance, I’d gone to bed at a quarter ’til four in the morning. I was up again at 10:30 a.m. Not quite enough sleep, but it was late enough – and too much longer, and I’m stiffer’n a ten-penny nail. I’ve lived and slept during ‘decent hours’ (again, according to Loren)... but when I don’t have to, this is what I wind up doing, even when I don’t plan to. I think it’s partly because I enjoy the uninterrupted, peaceful time between about 11:00 p.m. and 4:00 a.m.

That day, I ordered a ‘starter kit’ from www.snorestop.com. We’ll see if that helps Larry – starting tonight; it just came in the mail today. I think possibly he used to have troubles with sleep apnea – but these days, it’s more likely allergies. I listen carefully to his breathing, and it seems to be quite rhythmical, in and out, in and out, no long pauses like he used to do. So that makes me feel a little better. Larry is pretty healthy. I want to keep him that way!

Friday evening found Victoria busily preparing chicken dumpling casserole – it was date night. Mmmm, mmm, it smells good. She is working hard to show Kurt that she is not going to be an expensive girlfriend. (’Course, she used my debit card to buy the groceries, but we won’t mention that now.) Not that he’s the slightest bit stingy, or anything. He’s already bought her a lovely sterling silver heart pendant on a silver chain, and it has tiny diamond flecks all through it.

I was downstairs quilting, waiting until Larry got home to eat supper. Upstairs, Victoria and her friends were making quite the joyful noise. A sedate group, they are not. It’s funny, listening to their lively banter and funny discussions. Good bunch of kids. :-)

Soon they headed off to play tennis with some other friends. It was a pleasant autumn night, though only 48°.

Larry got home shortly. After supper, we had apple pie, with Caramel Macchiato coffee to wash it down.

I ordered some books that evening, gifts for Lawrence and Norma and for Loren. Then I wrote to my sister, who often buys books for people for Christmas: “Just wanted to let you know, since I know I’m treading in your territory when I start buying books (heh), I’ve ordered a couple of books for Loren for Christmas: TheWorld’s Debt to the Baptists, and The Baptist Debt to the World, by the same author. I got the same set for Lawrence and Norma; I’m going to give them the books as soon as I get them. Sooo... if by chance you already bought those books to give Loren, well, ... Oh! I know, I know! You can give them to ME!

“That was a joke. I repeat, that was only a joke.”

A little later, she replied: “How dare you?? I wasn’t going to order those two books... I hadn’t even thought about it, but now that you’ve gone and done it I’ve decided that it’s a great idea. But don’t worry....I’ll get over it...I think.”

That night, I finished the pretty blue and yellow quilt for my customer:

And I put exactly one stitch in my Bucilla butterfly quilt.

As I quilted, I listened to streaming news about the terrible terrorist attacks in Paris. Later, I read a couple of articles with more details.

Always read the comment section under the news – if you wish to see what the NOW (Nitwits of the World) have to say.

I was reading a story about some people who had rented a home for 23 years. I wonder why people do that, instead of buying something? Rent always seems like such a throwing away of one’s money, to me. But some people can’t cope with upkeep on lawn or home, so I suppose renting would be the way to go, for them. And young people might rent, just because they need something cheap and temporary.

We knew an elderly lady(?) in this town who rented the same tiny bungalow for, hmmm... 65 years or more, I think? She probably paid – I guessing, here – $400/ month in rent. Just for the fun of it, let’s say she spent only $200/month for the first 35 years. That’s $84,000 for the first 35 years; $144,000 for the last 30. $228,000, total. The bungalow was worth $45,000, tops, in 2010. It would’ve probably been around $3,500 in 1945 (judging from this website: http://www.thepeoplehistory.com/40s-homes.html).

But, she says, she never had to mow! Now you just imagine all the mowing that could’ve been done for $224,500. Good grief!

Well, she’s gone now – and she didn’t take any valuables with her, be it pennies or diamonds. Wasting money on rent wasn’t the worst thing she did in life, not by a long shot.

Saturday, I loaded the next (and last) customer quilt on my quilting frame.

Doing all sorts of customer quilts improves my ability to quilt. Yep, I’m gettin’ bettah! I like to put quilt tops together just as well as I like to quilt, and they somehow wind up complicated and time-consuming, so I don’t get to spend as much time actually quilting as I’d like.

Loren came out and looked at a dead tree near the garage. It’s huge, and he decided he’d better not try taking it down by himself. There are too many things it could hit – including the neighbors’ really, really tall fence they are just putting up. When they get done, I should sneak over there by the dark of the moon and install curled barbed wire atop it.

After leaving here, Loren went back to the shop and helped Larry work on ... uh, something. Something diesel. I know this, because my nose told me so.

I finished the last customer quilt that night, and shipped them today. Now to start on a Christmas tree skirt.

I used to sell woven potholders that I made on a little loom when I was traveling with my parents. I sold them to people at rest areas, in little towns where we stopped, and at gas stations. It was always 100% profit, because my parents bought all the supplies. I made $25 one summer when I was 8 or 9, and thought I was living in high cotton!

About the same time, I tried liquid embroidery. It was all the rage around these parts. Older friends were doing it, and their things looked like exquisite paintings. I tried it – and it looked like someone spilled the paint.

Every now and then it’s good to take inventory:

Hmmm... in my house right now are four large finished quilts (including numerous matching pillows), one finished table topper, a small throw, a quilted binoculars case, and a quilted needle case. All other finished quilted items have been given away.

The only projects I have in the works are the Buoyant Blossoms BOM and the Bucilla cross-stitched butterfly quilt – unless you count a few things others have bequeathed me: Victoria’s partially-done tumbling blocks baby quilt, the vintage Sunbonnet Sue blocks, a country décor item –primitive-effect seasonal blocks that hang from a tabletop wrought-iron stand (those blocks are partly done; wouldn’t take long to finish them).

Today Lawrence is having a bone scan done in Lincoln. We will learn the results of the test in a few days. This has been hard on both him and Norma.

Leroy is 4 today. We got him a set of Schleich animals. Here’s a funny: I asked his elder siblings on the way home from school if Leroy was excited to turn four – and before I got out the words ‘and go to Sunday School’, one replied quickly, “Yes!! – he gets two vitamins now!”

(The instructions on the bottle say ‘one tablet for ages 3 and under; two for ages 4-12’.)

Every now and then, I discover an email from someone that I have neglected to answer. So, in case I have done that to you, let me tell you what sometimes happens: I get an email as we (Larry, Victoria, and I) are all sitting around the table talking. I read said email to myself, laugh, and read it aloud to everyone, whereupon we all made appropriate comments and remarks.

And every time I do that, somehow in my feeble pea brain, a wire mistakenly connects and marks the email as ‘answered’. ’Cuz I did answer it, you see – only just not on paper. Uh, computer.

Well, my word – here’s a funny phenomenon for this time of year in Nebraska: it’s thundering! Loudly! Quite odd. And just like that, I got a notice from WeatherBug that I am to Seek Shelter Immediately! on account of lightning. Meanwhile, Ouray, Colorado, is basking in a winter storm warning with upwards of 2 feet of snow expected in the higher elevations. There is also an avalanche watch. I wanna be there. Well, that is, close enough to watch the avalanche, but not close enough to be under it. I love the mountains ♪ ♫ ... boom-de-ah-da-boom-de-ay ♪ ♫ ... And I love snow, even though the cold makes me ol’ joints ache.

Okay, now it’s pouring rain. If the wind picks up, the ceiling will leak in one spot. Sigggghhhhhhh... But we won’t mention that now, because Larry just got home after working 15 hours today.

Now WeatherCat (Teensy, this time) came in and stood next to my ankle before he shook himself dry. Somebody hand me a squeegee.

Construction on our new school and Fellowship Hall is in full swing. My blind friend Penny just wrote, “Wow, the street is FULL of things, cranes, not the whooping variety, cones, ropy strings, you name it. I’m just like the Romans, commandeering a man to go with me one, well, uh, not mile, just one street crossing. To go across is not safe at 5 but is safe at 9 for they’ve moved everything down the street. One of us—nah, MANY of us—will be thrilled when the building is able to be occupied. The other day someone dropped a hammer, and it went off like a small bomb. I heard a loud sort of call that sounded like hammer before the hammer went.”

I always hope nobody gets hurt, during these projects. What if someone had’ve been under that hammer when it got dropped? And the walls... they are tall! And then will come the roof... I hope everyone’s safety harnesses do their jobs!

Penny told me, “When they put those walls in, if there’s ANY possibility of the thing going over on the school, the classrooms are vacated till the thing gets put in its place. Forty thousand pounds? I’d rather not be beneath that when it found out that gravity is still alive and well.”

One time years ago, an acquaintance – let’s call him Nimrod – was working with a crew on a construction job, and a crane was swinging humongous steel beams overhead. Most of the other guys vacated the premises, even though nobody told them to – safety was somewhat slack, in those days. Well, suddenly Nimrod looked up, found himself directly under a giant beam – so he scurried off to the company truck, extracted a helmet, put it on his head, and went sauntering back to his position under the beam.

If the beam had’ve fallen, Nimrod would have been underground, and nobody would’ve seen anything but a flattened helmet, like a turtle that had crossed the road at the wrong time.

Thanksgiving is next week! I’d been considering ordering a certain wool suit from eBay... but now I’ve waiting too long. Maybe a trip to the Goodwill is in my future?

At our Goodwill lately, though, the majority of the merchandise runs to old boots and Barbie doll heads.

No, actually, I do find nice clothes there every now and then, and there is always an abundance of household décor. Not once, however, have I found any quilting supplies (other than the pillows I buy to cover).

And now for the news of the day:

Car Accident