Touaregs and Trunks and Toasted Diamond Rings

Last Tuesday morning, I was sitting at the table eating breakfast and reading the news on my laptop.  Victoria, meanwhile, was rushing around heating jalapeño poppers in the oven, and getting out milk, saucer, fork, and juice.  That does not sound like a good breakfast to me. 

Soon the timer beeped, she got the poppers out, rested the cookie sheet on the sink, took her food, and headed upstairs to eat them as she got ready for work.  A couple of minutes later, the cookie sheet, right behind me, said “TWAAANNNNGG!!!-ANG-ANG-ANG” whilst simultaneously flying upwards several inches.

Fortunately, I’m not jumpy.

But if I was, that would’ve been an excellent time to do it.

Later that afternoon, Larry and I headed off to Beatrice in his pickup, towing the large trailer he had redone the floor on and repacked the bearings on.  We were in pursuit of the Big Secret I spoke of last week.

Specifically, a vehicle he had purchased on Purple Wave Auction.  He hoped it would be nice enough to give to Victoria, as her Aurora is causing some troubles, and probably isn’t worth what it would cost to totally repair it.  The vehicle he purchased is a 2004 VW Touareg, a little SUV, and someone was selling it cheap because something was wrong with the transmission.  Larry looked it up and thought he knew what the matter was, and thought it would be an easy fix.

Victoria was at work when we left.  I sent her a note:  “I’m going with Daddy to Beatrice to pick up a piece of equipment.  It’s two hours away, so it’ll be 11:00 or later by the time we get home.”

She didn’t even question this, just wrote back, “OK” in an absentminded fashion.

The man said he would be driving the Touareg, and suddenly it would behave as if it was in neutral.  Larry did a bit of research on the matter, discovered this is one of those vehicles that some Mr. Smartbrain (à la Little House on the Prairie – the movie, not the book) rigged up to have no dipstick, no way to check the transmission oil or change it one’s self – and it was offered to Mr. John Q. Public with this fantastic propaganda:  “Never again check or add or change the transmission oil!”

Well, guess what?  Vehicles can only run so long before they need the oil and/or filter changed, or oil added.  There are myriad complaints all over the Internet about this vehicle and its ‘no oil’ campaign that turned out to be false.  Most of the time, a technician must change the oil and filter, if the thing stops shifting, and it’s quite pricey to have it done. 

Larry learned online what kind of oil and filter it needs, and found a place that sold a kit with the proper tool so he could do it himself. 

The vehicle cost $1,210 – and is worth about $5,500, judging from what other Touaregs of the same year and with the same mileage are selling for.

Here’s the vehicle (well, one just like it – this photo is off the Internet):

The color is ‘Artic Blue Silver Metallic.’  At least, I think it is.  I’m comparing it to 20 possible paint chips for that vehicle online, and the chips are so small, I have no idea how anyone can ever possibly get the right color for their touch-up paint, if they don’t know the exact paint number.

Victoria’s Aurora has about 171,000 miles on it, and more and more things are going wrong.  We don’t like her in an unreliable car, and have been wishing we could get her something better.  Hopefully, this will be it.

Wednesday, I decided we just had to get the prescription – a cream/gel of Erythromycin/Benzoyl-Peroxide – for Victoria’s face, even if it is terribly pricey.  The cheaper substitute that the doctor though might work – isn’t.  So I called Walgreens and renewed the prescription.

Then I headed to town, first stopping at Hobby Lobby to get batting for the Christmas tree skirt.  I chose extra high-loft poly-fil, because I wanted some parts of it to look like trapunto, without all the work.  The batting, which cost $14.99, is the first part of the Christmas tree skirt that I actually bought specifically for it.  A lot of the satins, brocades, and taffetas came from a lady on an online quilting group, who sent me a box jam-packed with all sorts of pretty pieces of fabric, trim, and embroidery patterns.

Next, I went to Walgreens.  Last October, we didn’t refill the prescription, because it had gone up from $50 to $150 in just six months.  Would you believe, the stuff has now gone up to $278?!  A small 46.6 gram jar, $278.  Good grief.

This is why li’l ol’ ladies drive their cars through drug store walls!  

One thing I know is, somebody on the other end of the prescription chain has a fuller wallet than I do.

When I got home, I looked up the company that makes the gel, and found their ‘Patient Assistance Program’.  They offer financial assistance for a fairly long list of prescriptions.  Victoria’s topical gel is not included – probably because it’s considered ‘cosmetic’ rather than ‘necessary for life’.

I found their email address and sent them my sob story, in my very best melodramatics.  Dare they answer such a saga as I sent them with a mere form letter?!  We shall see. 

In my searches, I discovered that there is indeed a ‘generic’ version.  It’s the very one Victoria has been using!  The brand name is Benzamycin, and that price is anywhere from $362 to $376.  And I thought the other one was bad!

There was just enough time before church to sew together the satin backing for the Christmas tree skirt and load it on the frame.  I took the batting out of the bag it was squished into, and draped it over the frame to ‘relax’.  On the off-chance that somebody on the quilting groups might be able to offer some good advice, I wrote to them:  “Help, help, please!  I have a Christmas tree skirt that is ready to be quilted.  But! – some of those outer blocks are smocked, some have beads and buttons on them, and others have yarn or ribbon embroidery.  As if that wasn’t enough, it’s a hexadecagon (16-sided polygon).  It’s made of satin, taffeta, and brocade – i.e., slippery.  Should I just quilt it on my Bernina, or should I try doing it on my HQ16?  It’s over 60” in diameter, so that won’t be a picnic.  Can I actually roll the top, on the HQ frame?  Or will it damage the blocks?

Several people wrote with helpful ideas.  Those who have never used a longarm or midarm quilting machine suggested that it would be impossible to quilt such a thing on my HQ16.  Those who use longarms explained how they would do it, and thought it would be next to impossible to manage it on a DSM (domestic sewing machine).

And then it was time for our church service, so that’s where I stopped.  I thought maybe I’d at least put the batting in place and baste part of the skirt onto the back and batting when I got home, but Kurt and Victoria and Kurt’s brother Jared were here when we arrived, and they are pleasant company who are fun to visit with – and besides, Victoria made scrambled eggs and mixed vegetables, and it tasted as good as it smelled.  We washed it all down with apple juice.

Kurt is feeling better.  However, the cool air (about 40°) made him cough when he insisted on moving his pickup so Larry could put the Jeep farther down the drive.  Larry, Victoria, and Kurt’s brother Jared all offered to move it for him, but he said he felt fine (and he never likes to impose on anyone).  Victoria leaped up, shut the door, slid the dead bolt, and stood in front of the door so he couldn’t get out, and Kurt pantomimed hoisting her out of the way and setting her to the side (without actually touching her), and made us all laugh.  Well, she got out of the way, he moved his pickup – and was coughing by the time he got back inside.  But he recovered soon, and was all right in a minute or two.  That is, he was all right for a little while, until Victoria made him laugh.

He’s a cheery, upbeat person with a funny sense of humor.  (Which is also a fairly good description of Victoria.)  Larry and I both said to Victoria at the same time, “Stop making him laugh!” upon which Kurt and Victoria both answered at the same time, “I can’t help it!” – and then we all laughed, at that.

In other news...

Thursday afternoon, Victoria went for a run down Old Highway 81.  As she was on her way back up the hill, a neighbor man pulled alongside her in his pickup and told her to be careful ------ because a female mountain lion with a cub had just been spotted half a mile to the west!

Boy oh boy, talk about alien cats!

The Loup River is about half a mile to our south.  When mountain lions have come through the territory in the past, they kept to the river banks.  Hopefully, this one and her cub will do the same.  But I’d sure love to see them!

There are small wild animals galore that would make a tasty buffet for a big cat.  Wildlife, big and small, around these parts are almost always sleek, plump, and healthy, from the big whitetail bucks right down to the tiny field vole. 

The cornfields attract all the migrating waterfowl, too, and the Sandhill crane and a few whooping cranes.  Those that migrate through this area pause for a few days, and by the time they head on north, they are plump and sassy.

I suppose that’s because we usually get about the right amount of rain, so things grow well, and therefore animals thrive.

Let’s hope the big ol’ cat finds plenty of rabbits, possums, coons, skunks, etc., and doesn’t decide to try for one of our pets!

I sent the mountain lion news around to our children.  The Loup River is closer to Jeremy and Lydia’s home than it is to ours.  They live about five miles to our east.

Lydia wrote back, “I will be careful letting Jacob go out to the shop at night – I’ll go with him!  (Jeremy’s sawmill and woodworking shop is just behind their house.)  Maybe Daddy (meaning Larry) should take his gun on his bike rides like the cowboys do on their horses 😜.”

I replied, “Yes...  big cats will attack a child if they’re hungry – but an adult can usually scare them off.  Cats, big or little, are opportunists, and they won’t expend energy unnecessarily.”

There is plenty of small game for a mountain lion – but they don’t exactly know (or care about) the difference between wild game and pets.

Somebody suggested Victoria carry a Taser. 

Victoria’s trigger-happy.  She’d wind up Tasering her father when he sneaks up behind her to startle her... the sweet li’l neighbor lady when she comes out to the road to collect her mail... and poor little Tabby cat when he pounces on her shoelaces.  :-D

That afternoon, Victoria ordered all the purple satin for her attendants.  It was on sale the first time she looked at it – and it was marked down even farther when she placed her order.  55 yards of satin, 15 yards of lining, and multiple zippers – and the total was just $288.63.

In complimenting a friend on a quilt she’d made, I commented, “The colors make it seem so homey and warm.”

I used that word ‘homey’ once in complimenting something someone else made, and she got all offended and affronted, because she thought it meant the same as ‘homely’.  Furthermore, it didn’t help much to explain the meaning to her.  No, she was then all miffed that I should be so uppity as to use a word she had not known.  heh  I promised to speak in one word syllables and grunts thereafter.  And once again, to paraphrase Queen Victoria, “She was not amused.” 

You know, my Mama done teached me that when I am dumber than someone else, I must not then resent them and begrudge their intelligence!

That evening, I finished the Buoyant Blossoms BOM for April.  This is the 7th block.  It’s the Gaillardia pulchella, aka Indian Blanket or Firewheel. 

Those Gingher appliqué scissors my sister gave me work wonderfully, and are the sharpest, smoothest scissors I’ve ever used for this finicky little work I’m doing.  They outdo the Fiskars snips by far, and that surprised me.

After taking pictures of the new appliqué block, I posted photos and updated my Etsy, Craftsy, and Scribd stores. 

Friday evening when Kurt arrived for his date with Victoria, he brought with him – the trunk he’d been making for her.  It’s in our living room/music room now, as it’s large and quite heavy, and would be difficult to get up the stairs to her room.  It’s lined with cedar.

A friend, after a rare chance to sleep in one morning, remarked, “It’s nice to sleep until you’re done!”  I agree.  And I didn’t get to, Friday night/Saturday morning.  First, during the night, Larry stole the covers (I recaptured them, and he pretended like I nearly spun him onto the floor, which made me laugh and woke me up further).  Then he snored (not much, and not loudly, but I wasn’t quite asleep again, and it re-awoke me).  (He snores much, much less since he’s been going for 15-20-mile bike rides each morning.  Saturday morning he rode over 30 miles.  His blood pressure is right at low-normal – without any blood pressure pills.  And he’s lost about 10 pounds.  And, of all things, his hearing has improved.  ?) 

Next, he played “I can’t heeeeeear you” (think ‘Sergeant Carter) with his snooze alarm (never mind the abovementioned ‘better hearing’.  He finally got up and headed out (noisily), and I went to sleep, only to be awaked once again by his tablet whistling a notification of an email.  I was giving serious thought to falling asleep once again when I heard both Larry and Victoria talking in somewhat animated tones (though not quite as loud as usual, as they were each giving a halfhearted effort to be quiet on my behalf).  This conversation was getting louder by the minute – because Larry had just begun telling Victoria about the VW Touareg we got her. 

Now, that was aggravating, that his always-faulty keep-a-secret penchant should utterly fail when I wasn’t there to see her face when he told her!!!  Mind you, he hadn’t told me he was getting that vehicle, until he’d already bought it, because he was afraid I ‘might tell Victoria’.  Hmmmph.  I keep secrets.  He doesn’t. 

I got up.     

The Touareg has about 60,000 less miles on it than the Aurora does.  Upon learning this, Victoria said happily, “Well, that’s a nice downgrade!”

Larry and I both said, “Upgrade” at the same moment.

Victoria laughed.  “Well, the mileage is down!”  She’s used logic like this to make up a good part of her own language, ever since she started talking, back before the age of one.

Larry looked at me.  “Is that the same girl who got all A’s, all the way through school?”

I sighed in mock resignation.  “Yes; she must’ve found the answer book.”

This makes her snort and attempt to explain herself. 

Victoria went off to work that morning with a whole bunch of extra bounce (and she’s bouncy enough, in the first place).

I got all slicked, polished, and breakfasted, and was then ready to quilt the Christmas tree skirt.  I’d decided to ‘float’ the quilt top (not roll it on the front bar), and roll it as loosely as possible on the take-up bar...  and we’ll see what happens.  At least it’s mine, and not a customer’s.  The backing was loaded on the frame, and the extra-loft poly-fil batting had been resting and relaxing, draped loosely over the frame, after having been squished tightly into a package.  I had no idea how it was going to work...  but since I was floating the top, I’d be able to put extra batting under some of the appliqué work to give it a trapunto look, if I liked.

I quilted on the Christmas tree skirt 9 ½ hours – from 1:30 p.m. to 11:00 p.m.  I quit when it was half done.  Well, almost half done.  Four blocks and three star rays have been quilted.  Quilting really shows up nicely on satin.  And so does every little fluff and flaw.

I’m sorta slaphappy, and when things aren’t going quite right, I have a tendency to speed up – which is exactly what I did when I was learning to play the piano, at age 5.  It’s the ‘Gotta Git This Thang Done NOW!’ syndrome, and the urge increases with difficulties encountered.  Must be genetic.

Just between you and me and the gatepost, if this Christmas tree skirt was from one of my customers, I’d be ranting and raving, fussing, fretting, and fuming to anybody around here who would listen:  it doesn’t lay flat, there’s too much fullness here and there... it’s a quilter’s nightmare.  But it’s mine, and if I have to stuff extra batting in it here and there, or fold a (hopefully inconspicuous) tuck into it now and again, who’s going to complain? 

So, as one of my friends says, “We wince, grimace, and press on.”

If I ever make another one, I’m just going to use my serger to sew a loooong stream of ruffles round and round and round the thing in spirals until it’s big enough, and that’ll be that!  I could be done in half a day.

A friend consoled me, “I’m sure the issues that are troubling you will never be visible to anyone else!”

“Especially if I position gift bags carefully atop the boo-boos!” I retorted.

Speaking of mistakes in quilts, I once told my sister to nail the quilt I’d made her to the footboard so no one would see that the strips that made up the backing had gone off crooked.  She, of course, insisted she had not even noticed, until I pointed it out.

Kurt, Victoria, and Kurt’s brother Jared ate dinner with us Sunday afternoon.  Victoria fixed a roast, baby potatoes, mixed vegetables, and cheese/herb biscuits, and I made apple salad. 

My father used to love pineapple upside-down cake.  He said it was his favorite cake.  Except... “You can have the pineapple, after the cake is done,” he’d say.  ha

It got up to 81° yesterday, and I turned on the air conditioner for the first time this year.

At about 6:00, Kurt arrived to pick up Victoria and take her to church.  Victoria came to get her rings that she had removed earlier when she was washing the dishes.  Then, in a voice tinging on panic, “Mama, where is my ring?”

“Your pearl?” I asked, knowing it was in a cup atop the microwave.  Earlier, a dish had fallen off the cupboard and knocked the cup off the microwave, and the pearl had fallen out.  I’d put it back into the cup, and put the cup back on the microwave.

“No, my diamond!” exclaimed Victoria.  “It was in the cup, too!”

I got up and helped her look.  I moved a scented wax warmer... the coffee bean grinder... a coffee mug... I slid the microwave over (ewww!  Someone needs to clean back there!)...  Then I handed the blender to Victoria.  “Hold this.”

While Kurt looked on, I picked up the toaster, turned it upside down – and clinkety-plink-plink, out fell her diamond ring.  :-O

“It’s bad enough that it happened,” said Victoria, “but it had to happen in front of the one who bought it for me!!”

So, with a meltdown narrowly averted, we all went to church.

I was wearing a brown linen suit jacket with a circle skirt with lots of funny-shaped gores in a pink-peach/brown/cream print, a pink-peach blouse with pearls on the collar, and the new pink-peach scarf Hester got for me.  The jacket is a summer-weight blend of 60% polyester and 40% wool.  It draws lint and cat hair.  In fact, cat hair at the far ends of the house will somehow become cognizant of the fact that I have that suit jacket on, rise up in large tufts, take to the air, and fly at Mach speeds to jump on the jacket, with their glee escalating in direct proportion to how quickly they can leap on the jacket after I have used a lint roller on it.  Gossamer webs of lint float quickly after me as I walk out to the Jeep, rush into the vehicle as soon as the door opens, hover above me until I get my seatbelt on, and then drift swiftly down to spread themselves snugly against sleeves, lapels, or shoulders.

We get to church, walk in, seat ourselves.  I look down – and see that my arm is coated in diaphanous lint, with cat hair intermingled throughout.  I try to pick it off.  It clings.  I, being of a persistent bent, persist.  I finally get a few molecules of lint and/or cat hair plucked loose, and attempt to release it to the floor.

It adheres to my fingers.  I unobtrusively give it a little flick.  It vaults itself into the air, turns to face me, sneers evilly, and pounces on my collar. 

Forty people behind me would notice if I tried to pluck it off.  I decide to ignore it.  The tuft chortles malevolently.

And now it’s time to sing.  I stand up, feeling forty pairs of eyes staring at my cat-hair-and-lint-coated back.

You know the saying, “Spend like there’s no tomorrow?”  I decided to revamp it:  “Sing like there’s no cat hair!”

A friend just sent a link where one can buy ‘tattoos’ for one’s sewing machine – flowers and butterflies stickers.  The ‘tattoos’ on my older Bernina were from stickers my kiddos put on it when they were little.  They loved to be doing something right next to me as I was sewing... and they liked stickers and sticker books... and the Bernina wound up with its fair share of stickers.  I didn’t mind... it didn’t hurt it, and they were having fun right around my chair.  I liked my little kids right by me, playing.

Oh!  A cardinal is flying about with twigs in his beak... it’s nest-building time!  And there goes the female, also searching for nesting materials.  They chirp and chip, keeping track of each other.

Victoria came rushing home from Earl May at 2:30 this afternoon, changed from Earl May duds to Super Saver duds and dashed back out the door again.  She told the people at Super Saver to schedule her as often as they could, because Earl May has rehired a former employee, the managers are working overtime, and thus Victoria’s and a couple of other employees’ hours are limited.  They really didn’t keep their word to her about hours at all.

I heard a hawk a few minutes ago... looked out the window, and saw one soaring over our house – and there was another, circling high overhead.  Hawks are pretty territorial, and usually if there are several together, it’s because some are young, still hanging around the parent birds.  But now and then when there are strong spirals of upward-moving air currents, we will see several dozen (usually red-tailed hawks) over our house, lazily drifting round and round on the updrafts.  Our red-tailed hawks generally stay, year around.  But when hawks migrate, they like to take a thermal up... up... up... until it tops out, at which point they soar to the next thermal, not even flapping their wings, and repeat the process.

Migrating ducks and even smaller geese avoid the soaring hawks.  Curved bills and webbed feet aren’t a very good match for hooked beaks and sharp talons!

When I was little, we visited some friends on a farm – and they had geese. ‘Domestic’, so they said.  I went to see them (birds are harmless, right?) – and they were as tall as me!  They hissed!  They ran at me!  I backed up... backed up... backed up...  ...  ... and sat down right in a roll of barbed wire.

(I got back up again. Quickly.)

Time out; gotta refill my coffee mug.  ((pouring))  Mmmmm, mmm.  It’s Cameron’s French Vanilla Almond, one of my favorites. 

Our coffee maker was making coffee verrrry, verrrrry slllloowwwwly.  Everyone says, “Clean it with vinegar!  Clean it with vinegar!!!”

Well, ugh, I hate cleaning it with vinegar!  I’d rather have slow coffee.  I tell you, I can rinse the thing three dozen times, and still taste vinegar in the coffee.  Bleah, yuck, ugh, acckk.

So I ordered Goo Gone Coffee Maker Cleaner.  Once through the coffee maker... one flush... and it would have been fine, but we flushed it once more, just to be sure.  The coffee flows out so fast now, it’s done before I make it.  And there’s no odd aftertaste at all.

Dorcas sent a picture of their new baby goat:

Kurt and Victoria looked at a house tonight.  It had seemed promising, but on closer inspection, they saw that it needed quite a bit of fixing up – and Kurt isn’t well enough to do that yet.  They’ll keep looking.

Larry and I put our wedding together in two weeks (while we went on working fulltime and overtime jobs).  Fortunately, I’d gotten my dress six months earlier, and the store alterations lady had just (finally!) finished altering it.  My brother-in-law John H. found a very nice trailer home that only needed a bit of cleaning before it was move-in-ready.  Friends helped with the food preparation.  One made the cake.  We had over 200 guests. 

I sewed one bridesmaid’s dress; the other bridesmaid sewed her own.  My sister sewed her little boy’s suit and little girl’s dress that matched mine; they were our ringbearer and flowergirl (that little boy, Robert, is now our pastor, the little girl, Susan, is our pianist).  I made my veil and Susan’s, too; and I made Robert’s pillow for the rings (fake – the real ones were in the best man’s pocket).

Larry spent the time (when he wasn’t working all that overtime) looking amazed and waxing my car. 

My mother spent the time saying, “Oh, my goodness, do you think you’ve thought of everything?” and telling me to be sure I had comfortable clothes in my suitcase.  ‘Comfortable’?!  Mooothhhherrrrrr!  The criterion was ‘cute’.  Cute!  Cute, not ‘comfortable’!  Cute.

And my father spent the entire night before the wedding studying for the sermon.  Once in a while we get out that old cassette, plug it in, and listen to our wedding sermon.  He knew us well!  And he loved us.  In three months, we’ll have our 37th anniversary. 

I was trying to tell Victoria about a book called ‘Family SomethingOrOther’ written by... and I just couldn’t remember his name.  John Kellogg came to mind.

I hunted on Google for a book about the family written by a Baptist preacher in 1950... and came up with The Religion of Elvis Presley, Rock and Roll Pioneer.

I was about to close out in disgust when I saw it:  it was the very next entry:  Dr. John R. Rice, author of The Home:Courtship, Marriage, and Children. 

See, I wasn’t very far off at all, was I?  John Kellogg’s Rice Krispies. 

My brain is still wired, but some of the insulation is coming off, and there are bzzzts now and then.

I just put a new springtime photo from the Alps on Desktop, after debating over one picturing a Scandinavian fjord.  Isn’t Norway beautiful?  I’ve always been intrigued with the Scandinavian countries...  maybe because we studied them one year in elementary school, and we had a wonderful teacher who made things come alive.  If we studied Holland, she’d bring wooden shoes and let us try them on.  If we studied France, she’d bring a fancy bottle of French perfume and put a tiny dab on anyone who wanted some – and then we’d learn about the company where they made it.  When we studied Sweden, we learned about the people of the far North who used reindeer to pull their sleds, and we read a story about a family who lived there.  She’d combine History, Geography, Current Events, and English with a common theme – and we learned, and enjoyed, and remembered.  And of course I was interested in everything, and if we were studying Finland at school, I’d ride my bike to the library (or coax my mother to take me there) and check out every book I could find on Finland.

Teensy’s in my lap, and it’s hard to type – he’s sprawled over the top of my left arm.  Now and then he puts a paw on the touchpad, and it works just like a fingertip.  He just highlighted my last paragraph.  :-D

Oh! – because he did that, I noticed an error.  Serendipity, maybe?

When I was little – 4? 5? – someone used the word ‘serendipity’ and I thought they were insulting me, somehow.  ‘Sarah Dippity’.

Time to get back to quilting my Christmas tree skirt!

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