Journal: Family Get-Together, a Wedding, and Happy New Year!

My brother Loren gave me a boxed set of coffee packets for Christmas, called The Twelve Coffees of Christmas.  It contains (or, more accurately, contained) these flavors:  Adventurer’s Blend, Breakfast Blend, Caramel Kiss, Cinnful Nut, Colombian, Dark Chocolate Decadence, Double Vanilla Crème, French Roast Blend, Hazelnut, Jamaican Me Crazy, Royal House Blend, and Turtle Sundae.  Since I don’t care for really strong coffee, each packet makes a pot and a half.  At the moment, I’m sipping a piping hot blend of Double Vanilla Crème and Hazelnut.

At our Christmas dinner last Monday, I took a couple of pictures of Kurt and Victoria.  Later, she wrote and asked if she could have a copy.  I sent this one to her, remarking, “Here you are.  Too bad Kurt blinked.  And too bad you were making a ‘now you cut that out!’ gesture with your hands.  :-D”

She soon returned it, edited, writing, “Better?”

Fortunately, I did get a good one:

Tuesday, my embroidery machine locked up again shortly after I started using it.  I took it apart... brushed, oiled, restarted.  It went for a while... then locked up again.  I called the Bernina Store in Omaha, and the lady told me another place under the throat plate – between presser foot and bobbin – to look for lint.  I got it open, with difficulty, and found there a lot of lint.  I brushed it out, and asked her where to oil it.  One must be careful not to get oil on any of the electronics.  She paused, thought about it a moment – only the techs are supposed to oil the innards of a computerized Bernina – then gave me careful instructions, and soon it was moving again.  I oiled it a little more after hanging up, ran it slowly for a bit, then faster... and finally went back to the embroidery design that had gotten stymied.  It stitched it out like magic – and it’s been doing great ever since.  It hasn’t broken as many threads as usual, either, and it sounds better, too.

They really should give people instructions for cleaning and oiling inside these computerized machines, instead of merely telling them to take the machines to a Bernina tech at least once a year, and more often if they sew like I do.  It’s sometimes difficult to get to a tech – it’s a two-hour trip each way, for me – and furthermore, they often charge an arm and a leg.

I’m glad I now know how to take my machine apart and clean and oil it well.

Hours later, nearly midnight, found the machine continuing to work great.  I was starting on the sixth tea towel of the day, and because the machine was working so nicely, with so few broken threads, I’d finished wrapping and bagging gifts, except for a couple of things Loren needed me to wrap for him.  As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, he recently went through many bins and totes my late sister-in-law Janice kept in a downstairs bed room, and he found all sorts of gifts she’d been saving for family and friends for birthdays and Christmas, including several craft projects she had partly done.  He was so happy to find all that stuff, glad to have things to give many of his nieces, nephews, great-nieces, and great-nephews on both his side of the family and also on Janice’s side of the family.  Her sister always includes Loren in all their family get-togethers.

By a quarter after three in the morning, seven tea towels had been done that day.

Wednesday night after our church service, Larry and I went to Hy-Vee’s organic foods section and picked out a variety of organic crackers that hopefully wouldn’t have anything in them that our children or grandchildren are allergic to.  These were especially to go with the Wolfgang Puck organic soups we were giving them.  In addition to tools and towels and socks and candles and cookbooks, we like to give the kids enough food for a meal or two – something they might not ordinarily buy.  Because of the food allergies, I have to be careful what I get.  Organic, gluten/soy/dairy-free soup (chicken & dumpling, potato, and hearty lentil vegetable) and organic crackers should fill the bill. 

Before coming home, we stopped at Teddy and Amy’s house to give Warren his birthday gift – he’s two years old now.  We gave him a colorful fleece hat with fringes on top and a sturdy little truck.

Once upon a time, when I was about three years old, my mother and I were returning from the grocery store.  I was standing in the back seat of our Renault Dauphine, peering out the window at a car behind us – and making faces at the people in the car.

A car suddenly pulled directly out in front of my mother, causing her to slam on the brakes.  I tumbled off the seat and landed in a grocery bag – and smashed an entire dozen eggs.

I was only three years old, but I really did think either the Lord or my guardian angel had shoved me off the seat into the eggs as a direct punishment for making faces at the people in the car behind us. 

When we got home (Larry and I, that is; not my mother and I), we had a late supper, and then I hurried back to the embroidery machine and launched into the fourth tea towel of the day.  I had absolutely no idea what the design was that I was stitching.  I hadn’t been able to find it online anywhere, and it was much too small to make out on the little black-and-white screen on my sewing machine.  It’s as good as sewing a mystery quilt!  Ha!

But I suspected that the first color might possibly be for face and hands, so I used embroidery thread with an apricot sheen, and hoped I was right. 

I’d be disappointed if everything turned out pretty as could be – except I’d given somebody neon lime green hair and a beet-red face, wouldn’t I?!  But here it is, and would you look at that:  I guessed right!  I’ll call her ‘The Sower’ (as in, ‘sower of seeds’) and put her with ‘The Hoer’ (see last week’s journal).

I quit shortly after 3:00 a.m., having completed four tea towels that day.  There were seven more to go.

Thursday, I scurried back to the embroidery machine, and kept it humming hour after hour.  It doggedly embroidered away, as if it had heard me threatening to buy a new machine and trade in the old.  Sewing machines can hear you, but they can’t hack into your bank account and determine when menacing remarks are nothing but idle threats!  heh

By a quarter after one in the morning, five tea towels were done – and there was one more to go.  Huh?

Something wasn’t right, because the previous day I’d said there were seven more to go.  Five and one do not equal seven.  So... which day did I miscount?  Or did I forget to take a picture of one, Thursday?  I’d’ve gone to look, but the sewing room is way downstairs, and I was already way upstairs in my recliner. 

When I looked again Friday morning, there really was only one more towel to embroider.  I must’ve miscounted Wednesday.  Or maybe I was cross-eyed... because...

Wednesday at noon, the neighbor’s gray cat bit me good and proper – quite unexpectedly, as he’s always seemed like a sweet-tempered cat.  But since we let him come in that week when we were having below-zero-degree temperatures, he’d gotten quite the swelled little furry head, and begun imagining he was Top Dog, cat that he is, instead of those who had seniority, as any cat worth his salt understands.  He’d come in the pet door that day, and was soon trying to work up a fuss with Tiger, who howled at him menacingly, which deterred him not in the slightest. 

“You need to go outside!” I said, and picked him up.  I didn’t surprise him; I was right in front of him, he knew it was me, and he has never at all minded being picked up.  But this time, he turned into a raging maniac.  A raving lunatic!  I immediately grabbed him by the nap of the neck, tightly enough that he went limp.  But not before he did serious damage by chomping right into the back of my left hand.  That stupid little beast made an inch-long gash, and it went all the way to the bone.  I sho’ ’nuff never had a bite like that ever before in my life!

I told him he was BAAAD, and flung him out the patio door.  I tried to land him in the top of the maple tree, but gravity intervened when he got about ten feet out the door.

Then I dashed for the sink and the bandages, leaving a rather alarming trail of blood behind me as I went.  I washed the injured hand... looked it over... washed it again... wondered if it needed a stitch or two (the doctor would later tell me that they didn’t stitch a cat bite unless they truly had no alternative, as cat bites need to breathe and drain)... and then decided that triple-antibiotic salve and a good bandage would fix me up fine and dandy, and we could get more Band-Aids and some butterfly bandages later.  But it wasn’t very long at all before my hand got all red and swollen and nasty, and it was quite painful trying to get anything done. 

Thursday was even worse, and that evening my hand, which is usually rather small with pronounced knuckles, abruptly swelled to twice its normal size, the bright red traveled a couple of inches past my wrist, and it was piping hot and hurt badly enough to bring all my projects to a halt after only five tea towels. 

I looked up ‘cat bite’ online – and then proceeded to read horror stories on medical websites: people have had hospital stays, IVs, and amputated hands, all because of a cat bite.  People have even died from it! 

So I went shrieking off to the doctor.

Well, actually, Larry called the hospital and talked to a nurse, who called our family doctor and gave him all the gory details.  From the information she gave him, and calculating the time that had elapsed, the doctor deemed it safe and appropriate to recommend Tylenol and see me in the morning.  The Tylenol helped.

Nevertheless, bah, humbug.  I have better stuff to do than visit doctors’ offices!  But the alternative to a bad cat bite is worse than a doctor’s visit.  A whole lot worse.

Sooo... I put the next tea towel in the hoop, set up the design, threaded the machine, and headed for the feathers.  Stitching it out would have to wait for the next day.  The doctor appointment was at 8:00 a.m.  It’s a 40-minute drive; and it would take me a while to get ready, as it’s very hard to wash and curl one’s hair and get dressed when one has a wounded hoof. 

Larry took a few hours off work to take me to the doctor, since driving would’ve been a bit traumatic.  After checking over my hand, the doctor asked me if I had any other complaints – so I told him that the Blepharospasm is becoming quite troublesome.  “And so far as I know, Botox is the only treatment, and I don’t want to look like a movie star!”  That made him laugh.

But I was glad when he seemed to understand exactly what this auto-immune disease, an offshoot of rheumatoid arthritis, is all about, and had a few suggestions for it.  When I first told an eye doctor I had it, he informed me I didn’t have it at all.  A couple of others didn’t even know what it was.  Good grief.  But Dr. Luckey gave me a medication called Clonazepam that is supposed to help with muscle spasms. 

We didn’t get back from David City until 10:30 a.m.  The doctor had sent the prescription via email; it should’ve been ready by the time we got back to town.  It wasn’t, as usual.  So Larry took me home and went to work for a while.

When we left home that morning, Teensy was outside somewhere – and of course he couldn’t get back in, on account of the pet-door blocker.  We came home to find him sitting in the very large flowerpot on the front porch.  He sat up tall and straight to see if it was actually us pulling into the drive.  Looked so funny – and I didn’t have my camera, wouldn’t you know.

I downed some breakfast – a toasted cranberry English muffin with lots of butter, and a yogurt drink – and headed off to embroider the last tea towel.

Here’s one of those designs that I really couldn’t make out until after it was done.  I generally think ‘tea things’ or ‘kitchen things’ work well on a tea towel (but the puppies are cute, too).  Some of the designs, I wonder what in the world I’ll do with – for instance, a shabby chic chair with checkered cushion.  Maybe I could put it with this tableclothed table?  I had no idea that was going to wind up a table, when I did it, since I couldn’t see the design well enough on my little screen, and had no instructional papers with the embroidery card.  When it was done, I thought, Well, that’s odd, just a table, like that...  But then I remembered that one of the designs on the embroidery card were the words Tea Party, so I stitched that out over the top of the table, embroidered a teacup on another towel, and called it good.

Larry brought the prescription when he came home for lunch about noon.  They make a specific antibiotic, Augmentin, for cat bites.  A deep cat bite injects the bacterium Pasteurella multocida into the wound, and the infection can spread quite quickly into the surrounding tissues, and then get into the muscles, tendons, lymph nodes, and the blood stream. 

I took the first dose, and hoped to be hale and hearty promptly. 

‘Promptly’ may have been a wee bit optimistic; but I’m definitely getting better.

The gray cat, who belongs to the neighbors, keeps trying to come in.  I wish people would take care of their animals!  They leave him outside with no shelter, even during that bitterly cold week; no small wonder that he looked for refuge.  But I’ve been keeping our pet-door blocker in – which means that I am now our own cats’ chief valet and equerry, and they wish to go in and out at two-minute intervals, pôr fąvör.  Aarrgghh.

Later that day, I discovered Tabby with a scratch on his ear and right under his eye.  His eye was mattering so badly that at first I feared the eye itself was scratched.  He acted like he was sick and in pain, walking around slowly and carefully.  Not at all normal, for him, despite his age (19 years).  I put some feline antibiotics into his soft food, and he improved fairly quickly.  He’s better now, thankfully, and almost back to normal.

People who neglect their animals cause troubles for a lot more than their own animals!  Yes, cats can survive bitter cold, but not if it stretches out (the cold, not the cat) for long periods of time.  And they’d sho’ ’nuff rather be where it’s warm! 

Around here, we’ve seen ferals with their ears frozen partially off.  When Tabby came to us over 18 years ago, a young, malnourished, mistreated cat probably not yet a year old, the edges of his ears were black from frostbite.  They’ve stayed that way all these years.  Some breeds of cats can cope with cold better than others.  Shelter and nutrition makes a big difference in how well an animal can brave the cold, too.

A friend wrote, concerned about rabies.  “Not to worry,” I assured her, “the cat is fine.  He’s young and impulsive, and he didn’t want to go outside, he wanted to stay and fuss with Tiger.  He wasn’t acting strange or anything, even though it was a bit of a surprise when he had a meltdown.  He’s a bit feisty, and he really wants to be the King Tut over our cats.”

Since he’s been neutered, I’d warrant a guess that he’s up-to-date on his vaccinations, too.  I do know the signs of rabies.  This cat has none of them.  These neighbors have had tiny, long-haired dogs (part Guinea pig, part meadow vole, near as I could tell) ... and they always cared for them lovingly.  But now the lady’s mother-in-law is living in their basement, and I’ll betcha that has something to do with why they won’t let the cat in the house.

He’s still around, begging to get in, trying to look as cute as possible. 

Bug off, cat.  My hand still hurts. Go home!

An elderly friend, 88 years old, was bemoaning the fact that she doesn’t get as much accomplished as she’d like to, or as she used to.  But that afternoon she wrote, “I do have something to brag about!  Yesterday I accomplished getting stuck in my driveway!  I not only got myself stuck in my driveway, but I got myself out.  Some nice fellow came along in a snow plow and saw me shoveling and did a better job on the alley which was very nice of him. But my car was stuck in my driveway and there was no way he could use that equipment to get me unstuck.  I had to shovel and shovel, and try to move the car, and shovel and shovel and try to move the car, and shovel in front of all four tires and behind all four tires; and then I lost my shovel in the deep snow.  I couldn’t reach it, and had to wade knee-deep in snow until I could reach it and shovel some more and try again – just an inch forward, just an inch back.  Inch and a half forward, inch and a half back – oooh, it’s moving; gun the thing – out into the alley and turn down toward the street.  I did it!  I did it all by myself while my neighbor across the alley stood on his porch and watched!”

“Mercy me!” I wrote back to her, “You do indeed have something to brag about.  Shoveling snow isn’t for sissies!

“Now... can’t you get someone with a nice, big, powerful snowblower to go blow a giant heap of snow all over the porch of the neighbor across the alley who just stood and watched while you struggled?  With any luck, he’ll step out on the porch, and can get thoroughly coated in snow himself.” 

I don’t like people who watch others having troubles and do nothing to help.  No, I don’t! – and especially not an 88-year-old lady!

Several ladies wrote to say that the solution for feeling like you haven’t gotten anything accomplished is to keep a journal of all the things you have done during the day.

I agree!  -- and write it down in detail.  I’m always glad to have a record of things I’ve done – throughout the day, the week, or the year.  There have been times when I’ve considered a previous year and thought, Well, good grief, I didn’t do anything.  So I poke back through my pictures, and am totally surprised:  Oh!  Yes!  Now I remember, I made my sister a silk ribbon picture... made my mother-in-law a Cathedral Windows pillow... etc.  It’s easy to forget, when you give the things away, and they’re not sitting around where you can see them anymore.  Keeping track of all the things, big and little, one does throughout the day not only helps one feel a little more productive, it can also help one better decide what to do tomorrow.  Plus, you’ll remember what to brag about!  You gotta remember what to brag about, or husbands won’t think you did anything all day.  ;-)

There are a number of ladies on various forums who regularly tell the others how to get lots ’n lots o’ stuff done:  They keep things handy as they watch TV, and during every other commercial without fail, they cut or stitch or iron!  In this way, they say, there is no wasted time, and it’s amazing how much they can get done.

I read that and think, Lady, imagine what you could get done if you’d turn the stupid boob tube OFF.

And further, Gimme all that time you spent watching the IB (Idiot Box), ’cuz I need it, and I know exactly what to do with it, too!  Siggghhhhhhh...

Okay, I should quit judging, since, after all, I’ve been known to waste time watching such things on youtube as airplane crashes (which give me nightmares) and cars slipping and sliding all over the place on slippery roads (which makes me laugh unsympathetically at drivers who would be better off at home in bed with the covers pulled over their heads).  And of course cute cat videos.  One must watch a cat video now and then, simply to stay perky and upbeat, of course.

Bunches of people are discussing diets ‘for the New Year’.  Some are in ‘soup and salad mode’ after too much snacking and eating rich food and sweets.

It works the opposite for me, it seems.  I rarely eat as much during the holidays as I usually do, partly on account of being extra busy, and partly because sweets of most any kind make me feel yucky anymore, which is sorta sad and sorta good, depending on which way you want to look at it.  I choose... ‘sorta good’.  And one more ‘partly’:  because people are always trying to feed me big scrumptious dinners at about the time I prefer breakfast.  heh 

Now, if they’d only give me these sumptuous feasts at about 6:30 p.m., instead of noon, why, then I could really go at it, stow it away, pack it in!

Friday evening, Loren called.  I’d days earlier invited him to our family get-together on the 31^st, but he’d been to ‘Christmas bashes’ (as he calls them) with Janice’s sister’s family and then with Lura Kay’s family, and was tired after a day of splitting wood.  However, the more he thought about it, the more he really wanted to see our children and grandchildren open those gifts he’d given them.  That’s the enjoyment, isn’t it? – watching people – especially the children – open their presents! 

And then... the winning card:  I’d told him that the kids had asked Larry to make his Supah-dupah French toast.  “My mouth’s been watering ever since,” he told me, laughing.

Also, he’d found a couple more things he wanted to give some of our kids.  He continues to find things Janice had saved for gifts – and that evening he’d found some candles he thought Hester would like, and some dress socks for Andrew. 

“So you found a house-warming/get-into-the-party bribe!” I observed, and he laughed.

Larry went to the store that night for the fruit we were planning to take the next day.  Since I couldn’t cut up fruit, I asked him to get a variety of grapes, strawberries, bananas, oranges, already-cut pineapple, apples... whatever would be edible with minimal effort.  I figured if someone wanted such things as the oranges and apples cut up, they could do it when we arrived at the party.  I could still barely type, and, worst of all, I couldn’t even pick up my coffee mug with my left hand!  Now, that’s getting into the ‘dire straits’ category.

Hester asked, “Why did that cat bite you?”

“’Cuz I pulled his tail!” I retorted.  (I did tell her the real tail.  Er, tale.)

I cut short our conversation, because I heard Teensy crying to get in at the garage door – and there he was, cowered against the pet-door blocker, with Smoky advancing threateningly upon him.  Aarrgghh!  I let him in before any fur flew.

Larry came home without any fresh-cut pineapple.  He informed me that a carton of already-sliced pineapple – one pineapple – costs $10!!!  AND, a ready-made tray of fruit is – get this:  $30!!!!  Yikes.

He bought a fresh pineapple, saying he would cut it himself.  (He didn’t get it done, though, so we left it for Andrew and Hester.)

Now my mouth is watering for pineapple!  But... I’ll content myself with some fresh frozen pineapple from Schwan’s.  It’s allllmost as good.

I sorted the tea towels into sets, wrapped them with tissue paper, tied them with narrow strips of sparkly fabric, and put them into the gift bags.  Let’s hope nobody gets into big, bad fights over the towels, thinking somebody else’s are prettier than theirs!  :-O

For supper, I fixed a couple of mini beef roasts (one serving each), mixed vegetables and bowtie pasta, beets, and golden fruit and strawberry mixture.  Tropicana orange juice (with lots of pulp, mmmm) washed it all down.

Saturday morning, Larry loaded food and gifts into the Jeep while I slowly (and painfully) got ready to go.  I’d taken three doses of Augmentin by then, but there was no noticeable improvement as yet.  By midafternoon, however, the antibiotic was beginning to kick in.

I took the first dose of Clonazepam (for the Blepharospasm) that morning before our family get-together – and it did help!  It really did!  I was cautiously happy about that, as the Blepharospasm has turned into a big problem.  But I had not yet checked the side effects.  I don’t take things willy-nilly, if I don’t know the side effects.

Soon Larry informed me he was all done; we were ready to go.

“I’ll take one last look in my sewing room to make sure we got everything,” I said, and trotted downstairs.  I opened the door – and found the room plumb full of presents.  He hadn’t gotten a single present out of there!  Furthermore, they were, for the most part, gifts for the children.  Better to forget the adults’ gifts than the children’s!

Trouble was, the Jeep was full, right up to the brim, even though Larry had laid the second and third seats down and stacked everything neatly and with care.  We would have to make two trips; nothing else for it.  And we were already late.  This was the first year Larry had to load everything by himself, and he hadn’t realized how long it took.  (Actually, his personal clock is optimistic about everything.  Experience does not change this.)

So off we went to Andrew and Hester’s house, where Larry launched into the cooking of his French toast, using up about three loaves of bread.  As soon as everyone was happily tucking in, Larry and Loren returned to our house to get the rest of the presents.

Tiger, who’d gone outside shortly before we left the house, was sitting forlornly on the back deck, begging to get in – and beside him was a big pile of his own fur!!  That nasty little gray had attacked him!  I think he’s downright hostile, since he can no longer get in the house.  It sure creates an aggravation for us and for our cats, though, that they can’t use the pet door.  Grrr!

Our family get-together lasted until 4:30, and after that we went to Lawrence and Norma’s to take them their gifts – including the Buoyant Blossoms quilt.  Norma was surprised – and I was surprised that she was.  I thought she would’ve guessed who it was going to be for, but I think she thought I had given it to Kurt and Victoria.

That evening, Amy sent me a picture of the kids, with the caption, “New pajamas from Grandma.”

Larry noticed that Jeffrey had on jeans instead of pj bottoms. Teddy, who was here getting a haircut, explained that while the top was a size 8, the bottoms were a size 10 – too big for him.  “I think someone with a lopsided kid goes into the store and switches things around,” wrote Amy. 

She’s probably right.  I promised to get him some that fit.

I wrote to Amy, “I keep laughing at this picture of the kids in their pjs, all happy and smiling – except poor little Elsie, face all screwed up, wailing away... “I wanted a turquoise sleeper!  With a teacup poodle on the front!  Waa waa!”  (giggle)

“You don’t want to know how many pictures I took before I got that one,” she replied.  “Haha, you should see the rest of them.  She was happy in some of them, but there were too many clowns.  Tongues hanging out, feet in air, and just perchance everyone was behaving, then someone blinked.”  :-D

Well, it might not be a studio picture, and poor Baby Elsie needs... something (or thinks she does)... but I love it, all the same.

Sunday afternoon I trotted downstairs to steam the suit I planned to wear to the wedding of our friends Stephen (Bobby’s brother) and Melody (Jeremy’s sister) that night.  I turned on the steam generator... and then, since it takes about ten minutes to build up pressure when the reservoir is clear full, and I’d recently filled it, and since my fabric closet is immediately behind the ironing board, I spent the time pulling fabric for the Storm at Sea table topper (which is supposed to be for the abovementioned newlyweds, heh).

Hopefully, I’ll have it done before they return from their honeymoon.  Meanwhile, we gave them a cookbook entitled Rustic Desserts and three heart-shaped bamboo baskets, two big and one small, that can be used on the table for buns, rolls, etc., or hung on the wall with floral décor, or whatever.  Anyway, it’s enough that we won’t look too chintzy while they wait for the table topper they don’t know they’re waiting for.

Why are babies always insisting on gettin’ themselves done borned, others insisting on havin’ themselves birthdays, and still others demanding to get themselves hitched — right at Christmas time, when I am plumb out of time???!!!

Here’s Stephen and Melody’s engagement picture.  I didn’t get a good one of them at the wedding, nor did I get a picture of the wedding party, as it was raining when the reception was over, when we amateurs usually take the pictures; and they needed to drive to Omaha for their flight to South Carolina.  The temperature was falling, and there was a worry about slick roads, so they hurried off immediately after opening some of their gifts and after Stephen gave a heartfelt little thank-you speech. 

Two months ago when Stephen gave Melody her beautiful engagement ring (in a giant box, in order to fool her), he affixed a card to the top, and on it was printed one of our favorite old hymns:  ♫ ♪ “In my heart, ♪ ♫ a Melody is ringing, ♫ ♪ with a Joy ♪ ♫ that never shall depart!” ♫ ♪  (Melody’s middle name is Joy.)

We are happy for them, and think they are going to be very happy together.

Here’s Melody telling her little flowergirl, Clarice, goodbye, while Stephen and his cousin Jeanie, Clarice’s mother, look on.

Levi has the stomach flu today; it’s been making the rounds through many of the school children (and a number of adults).  But he had fun painting some of the set of wooden cutouts his Uncle Loren gave him:

Nathanael painted his birdhouse from Loren, too:

Loren is going to be so pleased.  He was already pleased, because several of the children came to tell him they liked their gifts.

Here’s Levi, thanking his Great-Uncle Loren for the butterfly painting kit.  And there’s Bobby, delving into the stack of books Loren gave him from his own library from his own preaching days.  He has hundreds of good books and many sets of study books, including some he bought himself, many that used to be Daddy’s, and many that Lura Kay gave him.  Bobby teaches a Sunday School class, and he studies diligently.  He soon had his nose in a book.

Jonathan came and thanked his Great-Uncle Loren for the stuffed tiger Loren had given him.  Sometimes Jonathan calls Loren “Grandpa Uncle Loren,” which Loren considers a fine title indeed.

Larry and the children gave me a Sizzix eclipse2 Electronic Cutter.  I don’t know a thing about it (other than the youtube video I linked to above), but I’m going to have a whole lot of fun learning!  I want to use it to cut intricate pieces of fusible appliqué.

Today Larry and Bobby went out hunting.  Larry already got a deer, and this afternoon he shot one for Bobby.

I prefer taking pictures of live ones, thanks.  But... I help eat the venison!

We have an after-Christmas/after-catbite chaos going on here at our house.  My hand, while getting better (I can see knuckles again!  I can type at half-speed again!), is decidedly against cleaning up, putting things away, or {shuddddderrrr} washing dishes.

Somehow, back when I got my laptop, in addition to free tabs for Publisher and Excel, I downloaded a trial copy of a Pay-For-It!! version of tabs for Word.  Today it expired, and the little box demanding payment wouldn’t get out of the way and leave me alone.  So I removed that tab version, and after some searching found the free version.  We’re back in business – tabbed business – now.  The trial version of McAfee antivirus expired, too, so I looked for a free one.  I’ve used several, and of course it’s always nice to use a program one is familiar with; but more than that, I prefer to have the best version, the most updated version, and the one that’s most compatible with my new computer.  This, I am told, is Avira.  Sooo... I uninstalled McAfee (which has been screaming for money) and downloaded Avira.  And everybody is happy again.

After debating whether to ignore my weekly and upload the next (and last) BOM for the Buoyant Blossoms quilt, since it’s already two days late, but finding no genuine enthusiasm in the project, and instead wishing to type my letter, I put a little note on my BOM page stating that the last installment would be delayed on account of – well, here it is:

The next (and last) installment for the Buoyant Blossoms BOM, which will include sashings and borders for the large person-throw size, will be two or three days late, on account of a variety of Christmas doin’ses (it’s a good word!) and numerous family get-togethers.  I’ll get it posted before the end of this week.

My goodness, listen to this story sent from Bee a little while ago, the same lady who scooped her car out of the snow a couple of days ago (she lives in Montana):

The term “hard as nails” sure did describe my Granny.  She was born in 1884, and times were very different in her early days, but she saw the first cars, the first airplanes.  Many things new and different happened in her lifetime. She lived on a farm alone with her two little girls in 1910 when the area was consumed by forest fires. They were either 2 or 3 days and nights in a root cellar. They knew it was possible that they would be in the track of the fire and so Grandmother had wash tubs of water down there, blankets, and of course there were jars of canned good in the root cellar anyhow.  In those days they didn’t have extra shoes or clothes and when Gramma woke up in the middle of the night to fire all around, she just got her little ones out of the house and into the cellar.  She said she would wet a blanket in the tub and hang it over the opening to the cellar.  She had to keep doing that as the blanket would dry.  So when they finally came out they had to walk 10 miles to the nearest neighbors in bare feet with embers from fire crackling here and there.  It was a stressful experience.  My mother was 4 years old and it left her with a terrible fear of fire.

That’s quite a story, isn’t it?!  Sometimes people back then had more know-how when it came to surviving than we do – because . they had no other choice, no one else to depend on.  Some of their lives would make such amazing stories – but so often the people who live them don’t consider them much out of the ordinary (although I’m sure surviving a forest fire by staying in a root cellar for 2 or 3 days wouldn’t seem ordinary to anyone).

Here’s a picture of Andrew and Hester’s basement, where the children opened their gifts.  Caleb took a look and said, “Wow!  Christmas exploded down here!” which made his nieces and nephews laugh.  Can you tell I got a Hobby Lobby bargain on giant red and green polka-dot bags?

Joanna tried lifting one with heavy things in it, and not only the green ribbon handles came loose, but the red cuff around the top also came off. 

Larry told her, “That’s no Christmas bag!  That’s an April Fool’s bag!” 

A friend was telling of her husband helping her cut pieces for a quilt she’s making his granddaughter.  Waaaay back when Larry and I were dating, I made him a western shirt of tan chambray with yokes of wide-waled olive-green corduroy.  I then made myself a flared olive-green corduroy jumper with wide flanged shoulders.  He helped me cut out the pieces one date night.  That was such fun. 

He hasn’t done that since; must’ve merely been polishing me up for the proposal. 

On the other hand, he has serviced on my longarm... finished up sewing rooms and quilting studios for me (though the most recent one has yet to be completed)... and given me the wherewithal to purchase fabric, my Bernina embroidery/sewing machine, and the serger.  Nothing to complain about there, now, is there?

We went to John H. and Lura Kay’s house this evening after Larry and Bobby got back from their hunting excursion.  Lura Kay had already given me the beautiful red Pendleton wool suit jacket, but she can’t leave well enough alone, and just had to give me some soft lamb suede, fur-lined Australian slippers, too, along with a very bright LED flashlight and a beautiful scenic calendar, for good measure.

She was pleased with her tea towels.  She said they were too pretty to use, and I informed her that she had to use them, or how could I make her any more?!  :-D

We went to Wal-Mart afterwards, and got a pair of size 8 pajama bottoms to go with Jeffrey’s size 8 top, a size 10 top to go with the too-big size 10 bottoms (Lyle can wear them), and a new size 8 set for Jeffrey (in case the other things didn’t match).

Teddy and Amy gave me a pair of knitted mukluks.  I’ve drooled over them for a long time.  They’re so soft and warm!  They gave me lotion, too, as did several of the other children.  I use lotion every day after bath, so it’s always a welcome gift.  I got several kinds of coffees, some jewelry...  lots of nice things.

 Larry has his deer quartered, and it’s now soaking in brine.  When it’s ready, we’ll marinade it overnight and then smoke it in the Traeger grill.  Nothing can compare with it, when it’s been slow-smoked in the Traeger.

And now it’s 1:00 a.m. and I’m heading to bed, without getting much of anything done today.  The BOM needs to be uploaded... and the Storm at Sea table topper needs to be sewn.  Either my medicine (Clonazepam) is making me tired (it does warn that that’s one of the side effects), or my lack of sleep throughout December is catching up with me, or both.  My eyes are somewhat improved, though the side-effects of that medicine isn’t good, and I will not continue the stuff regularly.  So for that (the positive effects; not the side effects), I am thankful.  They sometimes use this drug in treating epilepsy patients... or people with panic attacks... or people with random uncontrollable muscle activity (which is what Blepharospasm causes in the eye muscles).  Trouble is, a steady diet of the drug can cause... are you ready? – it can cause random uncontrollable muscle activity.  Well.  Isn’t that helpful.  Plus, there are page after page of other unpleasant (and worse) symptoms.  It’s mainly used for psychotic patients. 

“Well, I’m not psychotic!!!!!!!” she screeched, stamping her feet.

Nor do I intend to be.  If they can’t come up with anything better than this, I’ll simply go on blinking and squinting like a toad-frog in a hailstorm, and just be glad ah hain’t no nutcase.  That’s what I’ll do, uh-huh, yep, yessiree, bob.

Goodnight!  I intend to be rarin’ to go in the morning.

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