Journal: Lace Quilts, Earthquakes, and Babies

Somewhere in this house I have a bag of brand-new baby girl clothes.  Do you reckon I could possibly make it surface for that new little granddaughter Elsie of mine?  There’s a possibility that the last offspring of mine cabbaged onto them for her doll baby, a few years ago.

I pondered the possibility while I made myself breakfast last Tuesday morning:  half of a cranberry English muffin with strawberry/rhubarb jam.

Mmmm... if you don’t make your own strawberry/rhubarb jam, but love it as much as I do, then Maury Island jam is the way to go.  I’ve made jams and jellies, but not for two or three years.  The last was a batch of peach jelly, using the peaches from the tree in our back yard.

The first few months after Larry and I were married, I made a lot of gourmet meals.  That, because I didn’t know how to cook.  I had only made yeast bread (the kind you have to punch down and let rise twice), ranger cookies, and homemade pudding before (in Jr. High Home Ec)... nothing more.  I wanted to, but my mother had a habit of saying, “I’m too busy!” every time I asked if I could make something. 

“But Mama, I will make it!” I’d protest.  

She of course felt like she’d have to supervise... clean up after me...  And, in her defense, her time was not her own.  She was a pastor’s wife, and we had a constant flow of visitors, and she was always gracious and kind to them.  But teaching her young daughter to cook was too much for her patience.  That caused me, who had a lot less patience than my mother, a whole lot of aggravation.  But...

Someone gave us a Gourmet Betty Crocker Cookbook for a wedding gift.  I didn’t know how to cook, but I knew how to read!  And I could follow instructions.  I knew how to put together healthy recipes to make a well-balanced meal.  Learned that in Home Ec, too.  So I worked my way through that cookbook, carefully following the recipes – and had one success after another, to my delight.  Yes!  I liked to cook!  And then I discovered that you didn’t have to make Hollandaise sauce to go on your peas; you could actually just cook them, butter them, and eat them.  Who knew?!

My sister then gave me a canning/freezing cookbook for my birthday, and I was off and running.  A friend and I picked wild plums along the Loup Canal, and I made an enormous batch of jelly.  (Never was blessed with moderation.)  Mmmmm, that was good.  I gave away some of it for Christmas, to rave reviews.  Being married/being a housewife/being a cook was fun! 

Here’s an interesting article I read last week: 

The Wisconsin State Journal reports that Liberal Talk “92.1 The Mic” will now be called “92.1 BestFM” – “Madison’s Home for the Holidays.”

Yes, good readers -- progressive talk was replaced with around-the-clock Christmas music.  Ho! Ho! Ho!

Among the shows given the heave-ho as a result of the format change was “Freethought Radio”, a show hosted by the Freedom From Religion Foundation.

“We opened up the Wisconsin State Journal the morning after the election to read the remarkable announcement that progressive talk had been banished forthwith on 92.1 FM and replaced with around-the-clock Christmas music,” FFRF co-founder Annie Gaylor said in a statement.

Well, if that doesn’t curdle an atheist’s egg-nog I don’t know what will.

“It’s not exactly the appropriate vehicle for Freethought Radio now,” Ms. Gaylor lamented.

The Freedom From Religion Foundation is not a big fan of the Baby Jesus.

Well, I am, and since news such as this is usually the other way around, I thought it noteworthy.  I wonder what happens after Christmas?

The news is skewed.  Sometimes it’s skewed one way... sometimes another.  Some news organizations lean one way, some the opposite.  I do some research... but if one researched everything, why, you’d never have time to make Hollandaise sauce!  Or a Blossoms bag, for that matter.  Sooo... while these and those are having frothy (as in ‘rabid’) protests in city streets, I’m toasting a Thomas cranberry English muffin, slathering it with butter, pouring a frothy (as in ‘with bubbles’) glass of milk, and then heading downstairs to my handy-dandy HandiQuilter 16.

And I’m just as happy as if I didn’t know better.

I went and picked up the Jackson kiddos after school.  So now, for all of you who asked:

YES!!!!!!  EMMA IS EXCITED OVER HER NEW BABY SISTER ELSIE!!!!!  YES!!!!!!!  SHE IS!!!!!!

I hope I answered that to everyone’s satisfaction. 

Late that night, I made it past the middle of my customer’s lace quilt.  The center medallion was three-quarters done.

Wednesday afternoon, Victoria stopped by to pick up her Christmas tree and decorations.  Her house is now all decorated for the holidays, and pretty as a picture.

When I was a young teenager, I tried drawing designs on L’eggs hosiery eggs with permanent markers, then attaching hanging loops to make Christmas tree ornaments.  I got the idea from a craft magazine.  They looked cute as could be – on the glossy pages of the magazine.

But when I tried making them... well...

It was from those, those alone, that modern-day horror films derive their imagery.

The day was warm and pleasant; in fact, it was 78°.  But a winter storm that was hitting the Rockies and the Black Hills was headed our way, and we would have an abrupt switch in weather by the end of the week.

It was Leroy’s 5^th birthday, so after church Larry and I went to Wal-Mart for a gift for him – an Etch-A-Sketch, and a nerf ball and hoop.  We dropped it off at their house before we came home.

A friend wrote, “You need a program just to keep up with all those birthdays.”

And I do have one.  It plays different-toned Happy Birthday songs, depending on whether it’s a boy or a girl having the birthday... and it plays Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy for the anniversaries (which drives me nuts, since I hate that jingle, but at least it gets my attention). 

I have the program set to play two days before the event, so that I have time to get a gift or card.  It plays a week before, if the person lives out of town and I will have to mail something.

By Thursday, when I went to pick up the grandchildren at school, they were a bit more subdued than they’d been the previous couple of days, as Amy and the baby were still in the hospital.  They’re all quite close to their mother, and they were missing her.  Plus, it had been Leroy’s birthday, and somebody had made a cake and they had gifts for him, but they were waiting until Amy got home to celebrate.  Amy had a difficult time; she wasn’t able to come home until Friday evening.

I told the children to wrap the cake with scotch tape to keep it from drying out, and they all laughed.

That evening, Loren brought a tiered, cantilevered, wooden sewing box, patterns, fabric, etc.  Earlier, he brought a partially-done china doll that Janice had been making, fabric, batting, stuffing, fleece, and patterns, including some of those Martha Whozit iron-on embroidery patterns.  These, he says, are early Christmas gifts.

He’d rubbed the sewing box down with Liquid Gold, and it just glistens.  Inside are thread, various notions, and two pretty doilies Janice crocheted.  I’ve drooled over boxes like these for a long, long time.

Oh... now I remember, those iron-on transfers are Aunt Martha’s.  There are oodles of them available at Colonial Patterns.

Late that night, I got to the bottom of the lace quilt, and was ready to take it from the frame, turn it, and continue working on it.

During the night, we had the first snowstorm of the season, and wound up with a couple of inches of snow.  Friday morning and part of the afternoon, several roads around the area were closed on account of accidents.  On some icy hills, trucks with empty trailers were unable to make it up and over, though those with loaded trailers did all right.  The wind was gusting at almost 50 mph.  It was 34° here – with a wind chill of 0°!  Now that’s culture shock.  Remember the 78° of the previous Wednesday?

I went on working on my customer’s French lace and linen quilt.  It’s not as perfect as I wish it was.  The thickness of the batting creates drag on the machine head, and it wants to bunch up to one side or another as I quilt, so I often have to hold the quilt down with one hand and move the machine with the other.  So I can’t be as accurate and as smooth as when I am guiding it with both hands.  Not as tough as I used to be! 

I thought this batting would be like the extra-loft Morning Glory batting I used on the Buoyant Blossoms quilt and the Christmas tree skirt, but it’s much denser. 

I’ve been spending 10- and 12-hour days on it, and there is still a ways to go before it’s right.  Friday, I removed the quilt from the frame, trimmed it, and then picked out some of the stitching where it had puckered and created tucks.  I usually let the customer trim it, but it was a matter of necessity in order to reload it the other direction on the frame. 

UNquilting is not fun.  What takes 15 minutes to quilt can take over an hour to UNquilt.

Most of the time, I pick out errant stitches immediately after I make them; but I can’t do it so well on this quilt, as the thread blends right into the nubby linen fabric.  Easier – and a lot safer – to just mark the spot, then take the quilt off the frame when I get to the end and turn it over to take out stitches from the back, which is unbleached muslin.

I have a hard time controlling my machine and being precise when I’m guiding it with only one hand, especially over thick areas. 

Ah, well.  I’ve already been paid for it... so it has to be nice.  I try to be pickier than my customer.  And I had a mug of Caramel Drizzle coffee steaming on my mug warmer.  Plus, the last load of clothes was in the washer.  So all was well! 

When I went to pick up the grandchildren that afternoon, the temperature had only risen to 36°, but the wind chill was all the way up to 23° even though the wind had only died back to a brisk 48 mph.  But the sun was shining brightly through the blowing snow; that must’ve made the difference. 

The Jeep does not reside in the garage; Larry’s table saw, air compressor, and house construction supplies lurk and lounge there.  But when I peered out the window at my poor, cold vehicle, I saw that the sun had taken the ice off the windshield, so I wouldn’t have to scrape it.

I like snow.  Wind and ice, not so much.  Yeah, I like snow... but the cold isn’t very nice to arthritic bones and joints.  Ah, well.  I don’t have to drive a horse and buggy; that’s a plus.  ;-)

Teddy and the children went to David City that evening to bring Amy and the new baby home.

That night, with all the clothes washed and put away, I thought I’d wash this giant dog (stupid stray cat took exception to it – or thought it was a fancy-schmancy litter box, ugh).  It barely fit in the washer.

Uh, do you think I’ve drowned it?

It looks pretty pathetic, doesn’t it?  It was Lydia’s, years ago, bought with money my mother gave her for her birthday.  And now Jacob and Jonathan love it.  Sooo... I feel like I need to put it on life support.  When it’s totally dry, I’ll brush it; that should improve its looks.  It’ll never be as stiff as it once was, though; that’s a fact.

My friend from New York City wrote to tell me that she was driving to the country where she has a cabin to leave her car there for the winter, then take the bus back.  “I am leaving the parking wars behind for a few months,” she wrote, and added, “Big Smile.”

“You can’t imagine how much more relaxed my winter will be,” I responded, “not having to imagine you playing MBCNYC (Mad Bumper Cars of New York City) each day.

“I’m not entirely kidding.  :-D”

Bumper cars.  That reminded me of the time...

I rode bumper cars for the first time when I was 12, in St. Louis, with my nephew Stevie, who was 9.  We were ripping around having a ball, doing figure eights and learning how to really make those things go, when a couple of older boys – 15 or 16 years old, I suppose – came swaggering in.  They zeroed right in on Stevie, and started bumping into his car.  Hard.  Nearly made him fall from his car, they hit him so hard.

((feral grrrrrrowl))

I had somehow wound up with the fastest of the cars on the turf (or maybe my small size [and determination] made it go faster).  I got a grip on the wheel, took aim, and PRESSED THE PEDAL ALL THE WAY TO THE FLOOR.

I discovered that if I aimed exactly between those boys’ bumper cars when they were close together, hitting them both at the same time, the jolt nearly took their heads from their shoulders – partly simply because they didn’t expect a girl to ram into them, full throttle.  I, on the other hand, was well prepared for it, and had my head all burrowed down into my shoulders like a turtle.  I spun my car around without letting off the pedal and rammed first one, then another, nearly jarring one kid entirely loose from his car.

For some reason, they didn’t like this game.  I have no idea why they didn’t gang up on me and fight back.  Maybe I just plain looked more scary than they did!  Ha!

Meanwhile, Stevie steered over to the sidelines, turned his car around, and watched the show, laughing, clapping, and cheering for me.  Others joined in, and of course the one small girl against the two big boys got all the cheers.

They retired in ignominy and defeat, with me yelling after them, “Next time, pick on someone your own size, you big bullies!!!”  And the crowd cheered.

But the best accolade was when Stevie stuck his hand in mine as we made our way back to my parents’ camper at a nearby campground and said, “I really like you, Sarah Lynn!” 

I was a shy and quiet child – until somebody started picking on someone.  Nothing could bring me out of my shell faster.

It was 34° Saturday morning, bright and sunny, when the football game started.  Nebraska was playing Maryland.  By the time the second quarter began, the score was 14-0, Huskers.  Final score:  28-7.

I headed downstairs to my quilting machine, and reloaded the quilt on the frame.  I pulled that quilt as taut as possible, but can’t get the excess fullness from the linen.  I tried so hard to pull that thing tight, I hurt both wrists!  Aarrgghh.  The dense batting doesn’t have much give, so it’s difficult to prevent tucks and puckers. 

Nevertheless, as the quilt is lopped over the frame, I keep looking at it and thinking, That’s sure pretty.  Now, if I can just iron out the trouble spots – or at least squoosh them (it’s a good word), so my customer is happy with it.  She keeps assuring me it will be fine, nobody will be looking at it with a magnifying glass, and so on; but some of those tucks and puckers are glaringly obvious from half a city block away!  She’s a nice lady.  I wanted her quilt perfect, and it’s just not going to be!  :-\

I need to add a bit more quilting here and there; that’ll tame some of it down.  It’s at times like these that I dearly wish I had about 25 more years of experience under my belt!

The best solution:  keep on quilting. 

Time out while I go fill the water bowl for Tiger.

+         +         +         +         +

I try to move carefully around him, talk to him and let him know I am coming, so as not to scare him.  Judging by how he acted around feet – especially ladies’ feet – I think a woman kicked him around good and proper.  And then dumped him, when she tired of him.  He seems to trust us now, and I thought he was pretty much over being frightened.  But a couple of days ago he was rubbing around my ankles, I was petting him, he was purring away — and then all of a sudden he shook his head, acted half scared half to death, and ran like everything for the door, skidding and slipping as he went.  He’s had trouble with mites in his ears, and I’ll betcha something in his ears hurt, and he thought I caused it. 

But in a couple of hours he was back inside, purring and rubbing on my ankles again, so if he thought I’d hurt him, he’d forgiven me.  I hadn’t touched his ears, though; I’m always careful not to (unless I’m putting drops in them, which he tolerates fairly well).  Poor old thing.  I’ll bet he’s about 10 years old.

The big question is:  Where on earth is he eating besides our house, that has made him so fat?!  He can’t possibly be this fat on only the food (IAMs) we provide!  He’s so fat, he’s clumsy.  Clumsiest cat I ever saw in my life.  He sure has a sweet temperament, though.

Late that afternoon, I went to see Baby Elsie (and everyone else, of course).  Amy is feeling better, but she’s quite weak, as she discovers when she tries to do just a few things around the house.

I asked Teddy to pick up my camera and take a few shots.  He was way happier to do that, than to have his own picture taken!  He doesn’t like to be on the shootin’ side of a lens.

Home again, I went back to quilting.  I added diamonds and half diamonds filled with feathers to the design, and may add echoing to the large feathers and some stippling between them to help this quilt lie smoother.

Plus, it would better define the feathers.  I need to hurry – my customer needs it back so she can bind it!

Lydia sent a picture of Ian, writing, “This cutie was nine months yesterday!  Can’t believe how fast time flies.  He’s a sweetie and loves his brothers and Daddy and Mama so much.    He has no teeth yet and still finds rolling to be the best form of transportation.    He is well loved and well fed.  👶”

That last line made me laugh.

Lydia then spoke of the unique personalities of each of her boys, which reminded me of a story (everything reminds me of a story, heh):

When Lydia was little, not quite 2, trying to stay up with Big Sister, she remarked happily, “I’m dus’ like Hestuh!” and she, in ‘that’ way of hers, gave Lydia a piercing look and said, “Not a whole lot.”  She was 3 ½.

After church last night, we went to Kurt and Victoria’s house.  Caleb and Maria were there, and Loren came, too.  Victoria fed us homemade chicken noodle soup, and made coffee with her new Cuisinart coffeemaker.  We had Kurt’s mother’s homemade potato buns to go with our soup. 

I played Victoria’s newly tuned piano (Hester and Andrew paid to have it tuned for her, as part of her wedding gift)... then Maria played it.  She plays so pretty.

On the way home, the Jeep hiccupped again!  Aarrgghh, is there a problem with the fuel pump (or the computer that makes it work) again? 

I purposely keep my know-ledge of car innards to a minimum, in order to keep everything but gas tank considerations out of my job repertoire, but through clandestine eavesdropping I have discerned that there are multiple computer components in that vehicle, and they all work together, and a glitch in one can trigger a glitch in another.

Okay, gotta patrol the soft cat food... dinky li’l Tabby is eating, and big ol’ Tiger is hovering.  Tiger has now learned that if I say ‘no’, I mean ‘no’, and if he keeps trying to barrel his way in, I will stand in the way... slide him back a few paces... and talk in an unhappy voice to him, which hoits his po’ leeto feelin’s.  So if I say, “No, don’t bother Tabby,” he (usually) considers it for a moment or two, and then sits his ponderous self down to wait and see what happens.  Now and again, I give him one little crunchy treat for his good behavior. 

Training cats is a whole other ballgame from training dogs – but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done!  Just takes kindness, consistency, and patience.  And more kindness.  Tiger is a sweet-tempered cat who has been mistreated -- I’d guess a woman kicked him around, judging by his behavior.  But... this cat just HAS to be eating somewhere besides *our* house. 

Some of the ladies on online quilting groups were discussing irons, asking what kinds others liked.

I have used the Rowenta Steam Generator (with separate water tank) for several years now, and really like it.  I got mine used for $89.  It got lost in the mail for three months, and was found in a totally smooshed box not far from the post office where the lady originally mailed it, somewhere in Florida.  After finding it, they then sent it on its way without telling her first that the box was smooshed.  Amazingly enough, the only thing broken in the box was the little pitcher for filling the tank.  The switch was slightly gimpy; it probably got squished in a little bit.  But it’s gone on working just fine.

I’ve had to replace the pressurized cap once; that was $17.  I thought it was just the little rubber gasket that needed to be replaced ($4.00), but that didn’t solve the problem of escaping steam, in a LOUD! whistling toot.  LOUD! whistling toots are nothing to sneeze at.

Anyway, that’s a pretty good record for something that’s often under high pressure (literally) for 10 hours a day, a good five days a week.

Steam generators don’t leak – because the water is not in a reservoir in the iron itself.  Plus, if you don’t want to steam, you simply don’t pull the trigger.  The steam and the heat are adjustable.  The iron has no auto shut-off, which makes me glad and happy.  I really, really, dislike jumping up and dashing to iron to press the next set of seams – only to find the silly thing has automatically shut off.  Grrrr.

You can crank up the steam so high that it would blow all your little quilt pieces right off the ironing table, should you ever desire to blow little quilt pieces anywhere.  The steamer works great on suits and ruffles and chiffon and gabardine and everything in between.

Rowenta should pay me for that prolific plug.

I buy a lot of things from WalMart.com, and while most of the things in any given list are decent prices, I have to be careful, because all of a sudden, in a list of, oh, say, coffee beans, while most of the higher-quality beans are around $10/lb., I might come on some that are $65/lb. or more!  What in the world??  Now and then if I click on it out of curiosity, I discover that there are 6 or 7 bags in a lot.  Or I discover a different, more acceptable price.  Sometimes, though, it looks like those particular beans really are made of gold!

I got a news update:  a 6.9 magnitude earthquake has hit Fukushima prefecture, Japan.  A tsunami had been spotted, and was 20 meters off the shore, and almost 10 feet high.  The city had already seen the expected backwash before a tsunami strike.

I was listening to a (supposedly) English broadcasting station streaming live online.  A lady in a totally deadpan voice kept repeating, “Do not go to the sealine.  Please evackerate.  Please evackerate.”

I watched on live video as the sea water moved fairly rapidly out to sea, away from the coast.

The lady intoned, “Please go ’way and try not to go back.  Go way.  Evackerate.”

She paused, then added, “A tsunami of 60 centermerters has been observed in Onahama.”  (pause)  “Thir.ty min.utes a.go we had ob.served the sea to go out from the port.”  Each syllable was in such a hard staccato, I began to wonder if it was actually a computerized voice – but then they showed a video clip of the lady talking into a mic.

A younger woman then gave an update.  She spoke pretty good English, and at least had a bit of expression in her voice.

As it turned out, the highest wave was a little over 4 ½ feet.  Damage isn’t too terrible, and there are only half a dozen known injuries, so that’s a relief.  About 18,500 people lost their lives in the earthquake and ensuing tsunami of 2011. 

And now I’m going to head over to Teddy and Amy's house to help for a little while until Teddy gets home from work.

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