It's a Dirty, Dirty World

Last Tuesday dawned cold, cold, cold.  By 11:00 p.m., it had gotten up to 19°, with a wind chill of 11°.

There were a dozen little birds, feathers all puffed out to ward off the winter wind, clustered around the large sunflower seed feeder – but the feeder was totally empty! – and I’d just filled it at noon Monday.  We were out of sunflower seed.  The squirrels get into it – and they get into the suet, too, even though they have to climb skinny rebar to do it.  But... I like the squirrels, too.  ((...sigh...))

Fortunately, there was still Nyjer seed in the other feeder.  And a funny thing – the juncos, which are normally ground feeders, have figured out how to perch, albeit clumsily, on the little pegs that slide out under the feeding ports. 

As I watched, a nuthatch landed on the suet feeder.  I dashed into the bedroom, grabbed my camera, and managed to get some good pictures of him.  They’re skittish little things, always moving about quickly, and it’s hard to capture photos of them.

I put away some of our Christmas presents.  This becomes a problem.  Where in the world do you put new things when you haven’t room for all the old things?!  (And yesirree, the old things are necessary.)

As I type, I have a big, ol’ cuddly purring cat on my lap, between me and my wireless keyboard.  He’s big – but he has the quietest purr of any cat we’ve ever had.  He keeps shoving his furry round head into my arm and displacing my fingers on the keyboard – rey[pqtqnsd[ ihgh d8wh.  See what I mean? 

That’s Teensy – TNC, The Neighbor’s Cat.  If you say TNC fast, it sounds like Teensy.  Joke, because he’s huge.  Joke, because he’s not the neighbor’s cat no mo’, no mo’, no mo’.  They didn’t want him – but he knew who did.

I replied to a couple of Christmas cards ... one from a man telling me his wife had passed away in June.  I was quite surprised; she was past 80, but she was such a bustling, bubbly person.  She was a janitor at a place where I used to be the Administrative Assistant.  (Sounds impressive, eh?)  She was a bright spot in my day, and we’ve corresponded at Christmas, and sometimes Easter, ever since.  The man wrote in his card, “I guess I have to write the Christmas cards now, as my wife passed away.  I really miss her.”  Doesn’t that catch at your heartstrings? 

I washed the dishes before I headed for my sewing room, just in case we needed to eat supper that evening.  It’s always a plus if you have clean dishes on which to eat your supper.

I watered the indoor plants, folded the (temporarily) last load of clothes – and then headed downstairs to draw a new appliqué for the Buoyant Blossoms BOM.

My stomach growled.  Oops!  I’d forgotten to throw it a bone that morning – all I’d given it was half a banana.  A bowl of raisin, date, and walnut oatmeal, and I was all set to begin.

The members of one of the online quilting groups were discussing ‘stash’ – the amounts of fabric they have garnered.  Some ladies have amassed the most astounding quantities, making the possibility of this plaque being more truth than fiction quite plausible:

I have a relatively small amount of stash, and a good deal of it is left over from the days when I sewed clothing.  I have never purchased fabric for the purpose of adding to my stash; it’s always for a particular project.  Right now, I have a few pieces saved for a particular pattern I wish to make; otherwise, most of my quilting fabric consists of scraps from previous projects, and there’s not a whole lot of it.  A year or so ago, I put shelving in the closet in my sewing room and just outside the door, and got clear totes that fit nicely on the shelves.  Most of the shelves have totes of fabric on them now.

A few months before she passed away, Janice gave me a very large box and a smaller box of fabric, and totes with crafting supplies and partially-done crafts in them.  I’ve used some of these things – but I haven’t even gotten to the bottom of the big box yet to see what all is in it.

When I make small gifts, I usually plan the gift around what I have on hand.  I’m always pleased to make something entirely from stash.  But if I’m going to make a large quilt, I will have to purchase fabric.  This coming year, I want to make a Feathered Fan quilt, probably in off-white on a white background.  Or maybe the other way around, whichever I decide will be prettiest.  I have little white or off-white; so it will have to be all newly-purchased fabric.

For Christmas, Lydia gave me a CD full of quilting patterns – books, actually, as each file is about 200 pages long.  Tuesday afternoon, I downloaded the whole works onto my laptop, and spent a little time looking at all the pretty pictures.  I had to start with Flowers of the Bible, of course.  The patterns are really pretty – but I especially enjoyed reading all the explanations and descriptions about what plants were meant by the phrases in our English translation.  Some, I have read before; others I didn’t know.

There are many log cabin variations.  Log cabin patterns are one of my favorites.  There’s one that’s ‘braided’, another that is curved... these, I wouldn’t be able to easily do without a pattern, and they’re different from the ones in EQ7.  The children’s designs are really cute.  There’s an adorable puppy quilt that I just must make someday.

One of the log cabin designs is even made with pleated ‘logs’.  Now that, I especially like.  There are pineapple designs... that’s one I want to make, too.  And Stars Unlimited... my other favorite pattern is stars.  There are stars put together with an Irish Chain effect... that’s just the cherry atop the whipped cream.

The pictures in these files are high quality... easy to see and follow.  It’s like getting a new stack of quilting books!

By Tuesday night, my house was dirty.  Literally.  The whole house was dirty, from ceiling to floor – because, you see, Tabby decided he didn’t prefer to go outside Monday when there was bad weather outside, so he used a large potted plant – well, the pot, actually – in the living room.  And in his zeal to cover things up, he uprooted the entire plant (one of those long-leafed things, like super-duper iris leaves – clivia, maybe?), and put what looked like buckets upon buckets of potting soil out onto the floor.  But he DID get things covered up – so well, in fact, that there wasn’t the slightest unpleasant aroma (which explains why I hadn’t discovered the mess myself).

Larry found this muddle very early Tuesday morning, and told me about it in the afternoon – just as he was heading back to work, of course.  Since the pot was too big for me to manhandle, and the mess WAS covered up, after all, I decided not to worry about it until Larry could bring his shop vac up from the basement and vacuum up all the potting soil, which was not only on the floor, but also on a huge stuffed dog and part of the big throw rug.  And Victoria could repot her plant.  She’s tougher’n me, and can sling bags of potting soil around with ease.

So... Larry got home, ate supper, and brought his shop vac upstairs.  I don’t like the way it sounds (like a jet engine preparing for takeoff) or smells (combination of dust and unidentifiable garage smells), and I had things to do in my sewing room (anything!), so I headed downstairs.  Larry set about vacuuming up potting soil.

Problem:  the last time he used the vac, it had been to vacuum up water.  When one vacuums up water with a shop vac, one removes the filter.  Well, he forgot about this, and didn’t put the filter back in.

Therefore, while he vacuumed up potting soil, the shop vac, back behind him, blew the dirt back out the other side, and he never knew it was happening.  He obliviously vacuumed on.  And on.  And on.  (Once he starts a job, he diligently does it up good.)  How he didn’t realize the house was filling with billows of fine dust and dirt, I cannot imagine, since it started making me cough, all the way downstairs.

I heard him bring the shop vac back downstairs, retrieve the regular vacuum, and go at what I presumed was the big rug.  And then he came and told me what had happened.

I came upstairs to find every surface in the house – whether vertical or horizontal, smooth, irregular, or otherwise – covered with a fine, gritty layer of dirt.  It being late, and because he goes to work at 6:00 a.m. or so, Larry had gone for his evening siesta in the bathtub. 

I wiped off the table, the kitchen chairs I could get to without sliding the table out, the leather loveseat and the recliner, a couple of benches, the stove, the counter, and the space heater.  Then I ran out of steam and decided to save the rest for the next day.

Could’ve been worse, I guess; I’ve just been looking at video clips on the news, and see homes getting washed away in floodwaters up to the eaves, and other homes destroyed by tornadoes.  Numerous people have been killed.  And an earthquake measuring 4.4 on the Richter scale hit southern California.  Yep, it could be worse.  Lots worse.

[Side note:  An earthquake measuring 3.5 just hit middle Nebraska, about 10 miles northeast of Broken Bow, this morning.  No damages have been reported.  (Tumbleweeds, coyotes, jackalopes, and sharp-shinned hawks are not unduly alarmed by unremarkable temblors, since, quite possibly, it might be nothing more than a buffalo lying down in the next county.)]

At least I could sit me down in a wiped-clean recliner, sip pomegranate tea, type emails, and worry about dirt later.  (But it did make me cough.)

And then the cat threw up, so I couldn’t stay comfortably seated in my nice chair, after all.

Siggggghhhhhhh...

Well, I cleaned it up... sat back down... and decided it was a very good time to waste some time.  I had, after all, gotten my new flower design drawn, traced onto freezer paper, some of the templates cut, and the fabric chosen – oh, and I remembered to find a sympathy card and write a message in it for the man who lost his wife a few months ago and I didn’t know it until I received his Christmas card).  So, feeling it was my just dessert, I wasted 47 ½ minutes watching SIBERIA – Wild Russia, A Beautiful Wilderness Travel Documentary in HD.

Wednesday, I wiped down my piano (which was right beside that shop vac as it was spewing its dirt), and then went over it again with Murphy’s Oil.  I dusted a few things... threw washable things in the hamper... and thought about the Buoyant Blossoms BOM I would’ve liked to have been working on.

Fishing for pity, I wrote about my woes to the online quilting group. 

“Oh dear,” responded one lady sympathetically.  “What can I say except, ‘oh dear’??”

“It’s a good sentiment,” I told her. 

Reminds me of a time years ago when Caleb, just a little guy, was sitting on the bathroom counter, and I was combing his hair lickety-split, doing things at my normal speed, when I suddenly ran headlong into a snarl to outdo all snarls.  Nearly pulled the little boy’s head off his shoulders, I did. 

I flung down the comb and gave him a fast hug.  “Oh, dear me!!!” I exclaimed regretfully. 

He nodded soberly.  “Yes,” he agreed, “and dear me, too.” 

You know, if we’d invite hordes and throngs of people over, letting them roam about and sit here and there throughout the house, they would conceivably make off with part of this fine dirt clinging to their persons, would they not?  We could act terrifically hospitable, being very careful not to breathe the words ‘potting soil’ or ‘vacuum filter’ or suchlike.  They would get home, look at themselves, and think, My goodness, I need to be more careful walking into the house from the car, so I don’t get so dirty!

Victoria didn’t have to work Wednesday, so she went to town for groceries, started a stew in the slow cooker, and brought her friend Robin home with her. 

“The Cleaning Crew has arrived!” she announced as they came in the door. 

You can’t imagine how thankful I was for the help (though it sounded more like a Demolition Derby, from my vantage point directly under them, after I went downstairs to my sewing room).  I need to think of something nice to give Robin!

I put away all the rest of the Christmas gifts, bags, and boxes (and duly consumed a white chocolate truffle as my proper reward).  I even had to wipe off all the Christmas gifts – they, too, were covered with a fine layer of dirt.  Good grief.  Fortunately, a good many of them were still in plastic wrap or in boxes.

I took a few minutes to page through the book Andrew and Hester made for us from their photos of Ireland.  So beautiful... I want to go there, too!  Then I looked through the book from Teddy and Amy – pictures of their eight sweet and adorable little kiddos.

I turned on the EdenPURE air filter, refilled my Rowenta pressure  steamer, lit a grapefruit-scented candle, refilled my coffee mug (Cameron’s caramel crème flavor), read and answered a few emails, scanned through the news, and got back to the Buoyant Blossoms BOM. 

Victoria was excited because she got her new dishes that day.  We paid for half of them, as her Christmas gift:  Dana Dinnerware.  She got three 16-piece sets.

When I was little, someone had a wedding, and they covered the backdrop behind the wedding gift table in the church basement with roses made by twisting ruffles of toilet paper around the eraser end of a pencil.  They let me help.  I thought it was the niftiest thing I’d ever done in my life.

So... when I went home, I unearthed all the toilet paper I could find, and set about making dozens, hundreds, thousands, millions, and gazillions of ruffled TP roses (for what purpose, I cannot say).

And then I ran out of toilet paper.

But! – I was not done making roses!  Sooo... my mother being gone somewhere, I went to her room, rummaged around in a drawer where she tossed loose change, and came up with enough to buy a 4-pack of toilet paper.  I trotted over to Sunset Superette, a little grocery store on a nearby corner, and bought some.

Home again, I recommenced my project with diligence.

About the time the living room was full of ruffled toilet paper roses right up to the rafters, Mama came home. 

Now, she might have been amazed over the masses and mounds of ruffled toilet paper roses, but what she was most dismayed about --------- was the fact that her young daughter had gone to Sunset Superette for nothing but toilet paper.  Oh, the humiliation!

She told me that if I ever needed to buy such a thing again, to at least get a small jug of milk, or a can of juice, or a bag of apples, or something, along with it.

It’s evidently okay to buy the stuff as general provision – but not as an emergency supply.   

My mother was a lady.  An embarrassed lady, at times (especially after I came along); but a lady, nonetheless.

We got a few things at the grocery store after church that evening, then scurried home before the teenagers in the house ate all the stew.  Yummy, it was...

You should have heard Larry telling the potting soil fiasco to Kurt and Victoria and friends.  He was really going at it, with his orations and emotings and declarations – and the kids were cracking up over it, of course.  Does he think it’s a feather in his cap, that he single-handedly made such mayhem???

At least he gives me new and different stuff to write about!

Some years ago, I had a sweet friend who had Down’s Syndrome.  She’s passed away now.  Well, she had quite a sense of humor, and if someone seemed determined to do something she didn’t think advisable, she’d give her characteristic one-shouldered shrug and say, “Do it!  It’s not my fault.” 

That night, I finished starching the edges of all the little appliqués, and glued them onto the background.  It finally dawned on me why my throat, nose, and eyes were burning periodically, and my eyes were watering:  it happened every time the furnace came on – because the filter was a dirty mess, from the potting soil fiasco the previous night.

So I did what I do best:  I dashed upstairs, calling “Larrrrrrrrry!!!” 

My method worked nicely, too:  there was soon a nice, new filter in the furnace.  Much bettah.

Thursday, Victoria invited Kurt and some friends out to go sledding on the hills to our west, over on Old Highway 81. 

It being New Year's Eve, someone wanted to know if I was going to make any resolutions.  I don’t make resolutions, but I do make To-Do lists.  That’s different.  Yes, it is!  Here’s my list of Things to Do in 2016:

1. Finish Christmas tree skirt
2. Continue Buoyant Blossoms BOM, and design entire quilt
3. Put together the Sunbonnet Sue blocks my grandmother, great-grandmother, aunts, great-aunts, and their teachers and friends made
4. Finish Victoria’s Tumbling Blocks quilt
5. Make flannel baby quilt from kit my sister-in-law gave me
6. Make the Feathered Fan quilt

I paused with the quilting to fix my brother some supper and take it to him.  While I was gone, the sledding team stomped in, shedding hats, scarves, galoshes, parkas, and gloves.  They must’ve consumed a worthy amount of hot chocolate, because by the time I got home, the jug of milk that had been in the refrigerator was entirely gone.  They’d all gone off to their respective homes to shed cold, snowy, and damp clothing for warm and dry, and would be back later to play games.  They like Apples to Apples... ImagineIff...  I think that was the extent of the repertoire for the evening.

It wasn’t long before they were all sitting around the table laughing uproariously over each other’s silliness.  I was downstairs in my sewing room, directly under the room where they were, grinning at my sewing machine, just listening to them. 

I finished the fourth block in the Buoyant Blossoms BOM, and now it can be downloaded:  Daffodils Applique.  With this method of appliqué you spend quite a while tracing, cutting, starching the edges, folding and ironing them over...  and then it takes about two minutes flat to glue all the little pieces in place, and Voilá! – there in front of you is the scene, all put together nicely... and it’s so pretty, you simply can’t wait another minute to stitch it down.

Larry came wandering down to see what I was doing, so I thought I’d show him part of an episode on This Old House (youtube series) where they demoed one of the best-put-together (and biggest) walk-in closets I’ve ever seen, hoping it would inspire him to finish ours, upstairs in our new addition on the 2nd floor.

I thought he was watching, over my shoulder, from his position in the rocker behind me.

Until I heard a stealthy snore.

So much for inspiration. 

(I did make him look lively for 15 seconds or so, when I exclaimed “HEY!” in great indignation.)  (’Course, then we got struck funny, so that spoiled the huff.)

I accidentally printed out two Starlight Diverging paper-pieced patterns, so I decided to have two stars in the Christmas tree skirt.  I picked out the fabric, and then got my pattern ‘store’ on Craftsy up and running:  Sarah Lynn’s Craftsy Store.

Next, I added the coneflower pattern to Etsy:  Sarah Lynn’s Etsy Shop.  Now all I have to do is sell 200,000 patterns, and I’ll be a millionaire!

If anybody has any comments or critiques, do please let me know, as this is the first time I’ve offered patterns before.  I’ll never speak to you again, but go right ahead and let me know.

Kidding, kidding.  I really do want to know if there are things I need to change or do differently.

Here’s something to consider:  how many millionaires do you know who quilt?

(But I won’t turn it down if that Nigerian prince shows up on my doorstep with the cold, hard cash he said my long-lost unknown fifth cousin left me.)

A mere five hours after creating the Craftsy store, they sent me an email with a big banner announcing, Congrats, you sold 14 patterns on Craftsy today!

I got all agog and overwrought – and then noticed the small print: 

Total free pattern sales:  14.

People who get the free ones will probably want the for-sale ones, too (and each pattern is only free for one month) – especially if I hurry up and design the entire quilt, all pretty and irresistible.

As of right now this moment, just since last Thursday, there have been 192 downloads of my free patterns, plus 7 that are for sale.  I find that number surprising; gives me incentive, for it tells me I can sell patterns, if I have patterns to sell.  Scribd took a dollar of the profits, and won’t send me a check until they have $20 to send me, bah humbug.  (Plus, I have learned that it’s easy as pie for people to hack Scribd and take for-sale items for free.)  Etsy took $.20 and put the rest into my banking account.  Craftsy doesn’t charge anything at all to list things there.  Gotta get more patterns drawn up and listed.  Every little bit helps. 

Friday, I worked on the Christmas tree skirt.  Somebody asked how many hours I have in it so far, but I have no idea; I haven’t kept track.  I used to time and count everything under the sun.  When I was little, I counted the seconds it took me to do something and tried to better it the next time.

The kids counted their cheerios.  And everything else.  One day when Keith and Hannah were about ages 4 and 5, I got a bag of Doritos, and put a handful on each of their saucers.

They both stared hard at their plates.  Then Keith said in a petulant tone, “You have more than me.”

Hannah looked at him, her face a study in blankness.

Then she reached over to his saucer and pressed a fist into his chips.

CRRRRRUNCH

“Now you have more than me,” she said, face still quite blank.

By Friday evening, I’d interrupted my progress on the Christmas tree skirt with no less than two naps.  This is not normal.  The more the day progressed, the more I felt like a wet noodle.  It seemed I’d caught what the rest of the family has had – fever, headache, aches and pains.  Through naps and Extra-Strength Tylenol, the headache lived on. 

Trouble was, we needed to go to Harlan, Iowa, to a quilt appraiser, Jennifer Perkins, Saturday.  It’s a two-hour-and-15-minute drive.  This lady was the nearest appraiser available.  She wanted me to get there by about 1:00 p.m., because the Bowl Game was scheduled to start at 2:00. 

I wasn’t quite halfway done with the star blocks when I threw in the towel for the night.  There are 32 pieces in each block.  I should’ve been able to get them done without trouble that day!  Oh, well.  There’ll be another day.

Saturday morning, we headed off to the quilt appraiser’s with my Mosaic Lighthouse quilt.  Larry was willing to come, because he had gift cards for Cabela’s.  And Bass Pro Shop.  And Cracker Barrel!  The scenic photos throughout this journal are from our trip.

You should’ve seen the Perkinses’ house.  It was built in 1886, and though it was pretty on the outside, it just did not prepare one for the beauty inside.  

It was a one-and-a-half-story bungalow, with sloped ceilings upstairs, and didn’t seem all that big from the outside, especially with all the big, old, three-story homes surrounding it.  But once inside, ... oh, me, oh, my.

The ceilings were eleven feet high, and all the original fancy baseboard and window trim, along with the elaborate crown molding around all tops of the walls and the molded plaster medallions above all the chandeliers, had been fully restored.  Even the original doorknobs and hardware had been refurbished.  

There were tall, multi-paned windows all around the house, and the long taffeta curtains and swagged or scalloped valances were in keeping with the period, but pulled back to let in an abundance of light.  There were lovely antiques everywhere – including an amazing ‘square’ grand piano that I wanted to play so badly my fingers positively itched.

The dining room chairs had petit point affixed cushions, and there were several antique china hutches and sideboards, all filled with delicate 1800s china and glassware.  

In the living room was a handmade wood and glass quilt display cabinet – all full of quilts.  There were quilts here and there throughout the part of the house we could see, hanging tastefully on walls where they coordinated with the entire room (or maybe the room was made to specifically coordinate with the quilt)...  small ones lopped over chair backs... and one or two antique, lacy ones in glass frames.

They had a big, sweet-tempered labradoodle named Chloe who was soft as chenille.  Most dogs can tell that I love animals, and this one was no exception.  She was soon leaning against my kneecaps, wagging hard, a big happy smile on her face.  Yep, I like animals.

While Jennifer looked my quilt over, Larry watched a basketball game with her husband, Phil.  The Kansas State Wildcats and the West Virginia Mountaineers were playing, and WV won in overtime, 87-83, much to the Perkinses’ dismay.  Fortunately, Jennifer was done and we were trotting out the door before the bowl game they planned to watch came on at 2:00 p.m.

The game they were looking forward to was K-State Wildcats against the Arkansas Razorbacks in the AutoZone Liberty Bowl – and they were bound to be disappointed again, because K-State lost 45-23 (I looked it up).

The lady will send my appraisal to me next week.  She gave me no clue as to what dollar amount she was thinking.  Did you know that if you’ve won ribbons on other quilted things, it makes any subsequent things you make more valuable??  I was told that a couple of years ago... and now this appraiser has said so, also – and in fact there was a place to list items that garnered a ribbon on the pre-appraisal I filled out.  That doesn’t seem quite fair to me; seems like each item should stand (or fall) on its own merit.  But I don’t make up the rules!

A friend explained it this way:  “It’s just like a songwriter:  once he’s sold a few songs, any subsequent songs are going to be worth more.”

Larry and I went to Bass Pro Shop in Council Bluffs on our way back, and Larry got a new scope for his compound bow.  (I would find a second, forgotten Bass Pro Shop gift card in my wallet later, at Cabela’s.)  The usual pushy person at Bass Pro Shops tried selling us a trip to Branson, Missouri, and Larry couldn’t figure out how to say ‘no’ for the longest time.

Sometimes when that happens, I just smile politely at everyone and wander away without a word, right in the middle of his or her spiel, leaving Larry to cope with it on his own – and he can’t say yes, because the checkbook and the credit cards are in my purse, haha! 

Next, Cabela’s in Omaha – and Larry got us a wonderful pair of Vortex binoculars.  We got some of their yummy no-sugar apple butter in their General Store to give John H., who has diabetes.  Larry got lost in the Bargain Cave, so I meandered off to explore rest of the place.  He knows where I can usually be found:  at the Aquarium.  I really like watching those huge fish, ponderously making their way through the waters right on the other side of the glass from me. 

We ate supper at the Cracker Barrel.  I like the fact that I can get vegetables and fruit there – healthy food that I like.  It’s a good place to eat, with interesting vintage items everywhere you look and a nice gift shop.  I got a baked sweet potato, coleslaw, beef/noodle soup (delicious – a little bit spicy, with onions in it), blackberries, blueberries, and fresh pineapple, cranberry juice, and then we shared a peach cobbler and a blackberry cobbler.  They never let my coffee cup run dry, and it’s one of those rare places where the coffee is actually fresh, and not too strong.

Larry got some kind of a breakfast meal that would’ve been enough to comfortably feed the Green Bay Packers, including the reserves.  But here’s the droll thing about it:  When the food arrived, the waitress got our orders mixed up.  Do I look like a person who would eat a meal for the Packers to you?!  Does Larry look like he subsists on fruit and vegetables??!  We had to ask for a take-out box, and one was barely enough.  It made him a nice breakfast the next morning.

When we got home, Tabby put on a wild demonstration of his happiness that we had finally returned by gallivanting madly about the house, skidding around corners, and plunging up and down the stairs.  Good grief!  He’s going to kill himself!  Doesn’t he remember, he’s an old man?!  He’s 18 years old, for pity’s sake!

Once upon a time, when I was wee little, not yet in kindergarten, I announced to my mother, “Me ’n Elsa are going to read a book!”

My sweet and gentle mother immediately exclaimed in a great showing of horror, “‘Mean Elsa’?!!!  How could you call someone as nice as Elsa, ‘mean’?!” 

When I hastened to explain myself, she laughed and explained, “Say ‘Elsa and I’ are going to do something.  Or if you say, ‘She gave a book to Elsa and me’, that’s right.  Just leave out the other name to see if ‘I’ or ‘me’ is right.”

I never forgot that (though I admit that every once in a while I put in ‘I’ when it should be ‘me’ – but I always have a vewy, vewy good excuse).

I stayed home from church yesterday, as the fever and aches and pains came back with a vengeance.  Best to avoid spreading viruses around, if possible. 

Kurt was sick Saturday and Sunday, too.  He was hungry for chili last night, of all things, so Victoria got him some Campbell’s Roadhouse chili (gotta make that boy some real chili one of these days) – and some chicken noodle soup and potato soup, too.

We have a good quarter of an inch of frost sparkling on the landscape today.  I went outside and got some photos...  but oooh, it’s cold, cold – 16°, with a wind chill of 6°.  My macro lens takes good close-ups of frost.  It’s like lacy, delicate filigree.  Like tiny ferns and fronds.  That twig is no bigger than a toothpick.

I’ve watered the indoor plants... refilled the bird feeders (the nuthatch is back again!)... and edited a few photos.  When this journal is done, I need to find out why some things I ordered never arrived when they should have gotten here a month ago...  get a package ready to mail... make a couple of quilt labels... finish the Christmas tree skirt... design the Buoyant Blossoms quilt... and make something (a nightgown, maybe) for Joanna’s 13th birthday on the 13th. 

A few years ago, I made Aaron and Ethan corduroy bedroom slippers, complete with leather soles, to go with their corduroy robes. 

Ethan wanted to wear them to bed.  “But Grandma said, they are bed slippers!” he told his Mama.

“Bedroom slippers,” laughed Amy.  “You wear them into your bedroom, and take them off beside your bed.”

“Oh,” said Ethan.  And he put his slippers beside his bed.  (But he kept right on calling them ‘bed slippers.’)

OH!—just got a note from a lady with AQS telling me to finish the form for entering my quilt!  Well, I’ll wait until I get my appraisal, so I can add that in.  Now:  are we, or are we not, rich enough to go to Daytona Beach?  If so, I need to plan the trip, make some reservations...

So much to do!  At least I can’t say I’m bored, hmmm?

Did you know that more than 90% of the population consider themselves to be above average, intellectually?  (think about it)  (Did you think about it?)  (You realize that only 49% of the population can be above average, right?)

You know one of the troubles with having a dry humor?  It’s plumb aggravatin’, ’tis.  It’s this:  it’s when you say something in great snide and sarcasm in order to really put someone in his place, take the wind right out of his sails, put him down with a crash ----- and he thinks you’re kidding.  Now that’s annoying.

Only thing left to do after that is to kick him in the shins.

Hmmm...  here are some supposed intellectuals scratching for a fuss on a computer forum.  Online fusses make me want to pop some popcorn and brew up some coffee so I can enjoy myself whilst watching the fracas.  (Some can’t cope with fusses, though; weak constitutions.  Tsk.)

I got a note from a customer regarding a quilt that I’d had a bit of trouble quilting for her:  “Just to let you know ... the lady was so happy that someone cared about her.” 

Isn’t that touching?  I’m glad I persevered with the lady’s quilt.

Do you know, I’ve never, ever had lamb?  Gotta remedy that someday soon!  I decided to get some once, after coming upon what looked like a tasty recipe – and discovered at the meat counter that it was not a meal that would fit into our budget right then, as the meal had to feed eleven.

Chicken happened to be on sale, so I bought some and substituted it for the lamb in the recipe, seasoning it exactly as recommended for lamb.  Since I’ve never had lamb, I cannot say how closely my concoction resembled the ‘real’ recipe; but it was good.

Larry brought home Subway sandwiches tonight for supper.  Mine had so many hot peppers in it, I feel like a fire-breathing dragon – and I generally love hot peppers.  But it was good, regardless.

Tabby cat is sitting on the arm of the chair beside me... Teensy is over in the living room using his tail for a blanket... 

Here, I’ll take some pictures:

Can you see that Teensy opened his eyes and is peering at me around that piano leg?

Teensy is a biiiig ol’ thing – and lately he’s looking positively plump.  Judging by the fact that he comes in now and then with blood on his paws, and it’s not his blood, and now and again he has what looks like rabbit fur stuck to his claws, or a feather perched jauntily atop his head, I’d say he’s helping himself to the local fauna and fowl, the horrid brat.  I found a quail having a nap on the floor of the under-the-porch storage room last week.  Quails don’t voluntarily take naps on the floor of under-the-porch storage rooms.  Especially not permanent naps. 

This means that Teensy was so full, he couldn’t even eat his latest victim.  Ugh!

Tabby, on the other hand, only looks big, on account of camera angle and fluffiness of the cat.  If you’d pick him up, you’d discover he’s a lightweight, with a small, delicate bone structure.

Okay, I just did my good deed for the day:  I added water to Victoria’s fishtank.  When the water has evaporated so much that the fish are flopping about on the rocks at the bottom and can go no higher, one should add water, right?  (I never exaggerate.)  (Do I?)

I cleaned some elderly items out of the refrigerator; that gets me 7 points.  I think.  I let Teensy have a few bites of Tabby’s soft food before I took it away from him; Teensy himself awarded me a whopping 50 points for that.

Now I must wash the dishes – there are at least two full sinks of them! – that’ll give me a couple hundred points, don’t you think?  (It’s like Calvinball [from Calvin & Hobbes]:  I make it up as I go along.)  Then to upload my journal; I’ll take 500 points for that.

And then I’ll get back to the Christmas tree skirt.  Good thing I didn’t say it was a 2015 Christmas tree skirt, right?

I’d better get in gear!

,,,>^..^<,,,     Sarah Lynn     ,,,>^..^<,,,