February Photos

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

Photos: First Snow of the Season















Monday, October 30, 2017

Journal: Quilts and Cattails and Reminisces

Facebook does strange things.  I went from about 100 ‘Friends’ to almost 900 in about a month!  I ‘allowed’ most of them, because all I use Facebook for is a place to post pictures of quilts and scenery and quilts and cats and quilts – and I do get a bit of business from my page.  I have no idea why such a flock of people wanted to ‘Friend’ me suddenly.  I looked it up on Google, and see I’m not the only one.  I click ‘Confirm’ on most of them, because I’m a curious person, and I like to see what’s going to happen next.  Most are ladies from Facebook quilting groups I belong to, and since one group has over 75,000 members, another 10,000, and the others several thousand each, I guess it’s not too unusual that after I posted several pictures of quilts I’ve done, a large number would want to be a ‘Friend’.  I wound up with a few oddballs; but, fortunately, it’s just as easy to ‘Unfriend’ someone as it is to ‘Friend’ them, so ... no problemo.  😉
One young woman wanted Larry and I to be her godparents. Must’ve thought we were millionaires.  😏  Another, a young woman from India, want to ‘chat you every day’.  I don’t use Facebook to chat.  I ignore chat requests.  But when she wrote several times under a photo I posted, ‘Text me please,’ I did so, on the off chance that she was coming to America with several thousand quilts for which she would pay me $100 an hour to do custom quilting on. 
She wasn’t.  She wanted to ‘chat me’.  I thanked her politely for writing, told her I had no time for chatting, wished her well, and bid her adieu.  She went on writing.  She requested that I text her tomorrow.  She requested that I set a special time to ‘chat me’, because she didn’t have any friends.  I knew better than that, because I’d clicked on her name, looked at her page, and seen pictures of her with her friends and family. 
I ignored her.
She launched into apologies and requests for forgiveness.
I ‘unfriended’ her.
She sent a sad monkey face.
I blocked her.
And that was the end of that.
After that, I decided to stop ‘friending’ people from the far ends of the earth.  They aren’t going to be sending me quilts to do, I don’t imagine.
Speaking of texting, I’ve been getting phone texts from family members this week that were sent an hour or two earlier – they floated around in the stratosphere for a while before they found their way to my computer or phone.  I told a few of the kids, “Maybe you’d better use Pony Express or smoke signals for any emergencies; it’ll get here faster.”   
Last Monday night, I took part in a webinar by a lady named Kari Schell, who’s an award-winning quilter, a pattern designer, an Electric Quilt expert, and a certified Art and Stitch instructor.  The webinar was all about EQ8 – the new Electric Quilt upgrade.  The upgrade was on sale, and I bought it.  I have a new toy to play with!  All the designs I’ve created in EQ7 will transfer to EQ8 without any problem.
There are some math teachers and retired math teachers on some of the quilting groups to which I belong.  We were discussing arithmetic... geometry... algebra...  And guess what was in the comics Tuesday?  You’d think they were eavesdropping on our conversations.

Peanuts


Zits 

Tuesday afternoon, I finished my customer’s Americana quilt.  I’m pleased with how it turned out; the ‘Eagle with Stars’ made a striking pantograph.  More photos are posted here.
That’s all the customer quilts I’ll be doing for a while, other than one next month.  I need to get ready for Christmas!
For the next three days, I cut pieces for the Baskets of Lilies quilt.  Wednesday, I cut diamonds for the ‘petals’.  I had about a dozen cut already, and by the time I quit for the night, there were 232 cut, which makes 58 ‘blossoms’.  17 more ‘blossoms’ to go – that’s 68 diamonds I still needed to cut.  It’s not a very fast process, since a) it’s scrappy, so there aren’t a whole lot of diamonds cut from the same fabric, and b) the fabric from which I’m cutting the diamonds is generally in smallish pieces already.  Hence, no long strips... no sewing of long strips together and then diamonds cut from those.  Most of the time, I’m only cutting two diamonds at a time. 
Here’s the quilt I’m making:  Baskets of Lilies
And here’s one of the blocks:
Depending on what it looks like when I’m done, I just might try entering it in one of the bigger quilt shows, such as AQS or HMQS.
You know...  you can say ‘AQS Quilting Show’, and that’s fine, because AQS stands for ‘American Quilter’s Society’.  But if you say, ‘HMQS Quilting Show’, you’re actually saying ‘Home Machine Quilting Show Quilting Show’.  heh  It’s like saying ‘ATM machine’, which is the same as saying ‘Automatic Teller Machine Machine’.  Or ‘just for your FYI’, which is the same as saying, ‘just for your for your information’.  Or ‘VIN number’, which is the same as saying, ‘Vehicle Registration Number number’.  heh heh
And that’s your little grammar and English lesson for the day. 
“All these acronyms these days make my head spin,” wrote a friend upon reading the above.  “Every time I turn around there’s a new one, and I have to look it up online.”
“Me, too!” I responded.  “And sometimes, after I look one up, I have to then go rinse my brain out with Lysol, in order to unlearn what I just learnt.  😲
Thursday, the wind was blowing at a steady 30 mph, with gusts to 55 mph.  Roof shingles were laying here and there around the property.  It got up to 57° that afternoon, but the wind chill was 40°. 
Meanwhile, it was -4° in Alert, Nunavut, Canada, with snow.  That’s the northernmost town in the world.  And it was 93° in Khartoum, Sudan, and the temperature was expected to rise to 102°. 
See, we didn’t have it so bad after all.
I’ve always enjoyed weather forecasts... watching weather here and there around the world... comparing highs and lows... 
That day, I finished cutting all the diamonds for the ‘petals’, then cut the green triangles that will make the ‘base’ of the blossoms.  Those were all the colored patches. 
I washed clothes that day, periodically clambering up the stairs to put a load into the dryer, refill the washer, and fold and put away the things removed from the dryer.  My sewing room is downstairs, and the washer and dryer are upstairs.  It seemed like a looong way up there with these sore toes (which are quite a lot improved, by the way).  On one of my treks upstairs, I got all the houseplants watered and the kitchen cleaned, then headed back downstairs to continue cutting. 
Loren brought us Subway sandwiches for supper – sliced roast beef with lots of vegetables.  Mmmm, mmm.
A friend remarked, “They are very selfish with the veggies at the Subway closest to me.  So I just keep on saying more veggies please!”
The workers at different Subways obviously have different trainers (or maybe just different personalities)... because as we go from Subway to Subway (sounds like we stop at every one we come to, heh) across the country, there is a big difference in how generous they are with their ingredients.  At the two Subways in our town, the workers stuff the sandwiches so full, they can hardly get the paper wrapped around them.  😋
Once when we were in Raton, New Mexico, Larry’s Aunt Lynn took us to the local Subway.  I ordered a BLT ‘with everything’.  The friendly Mexican man who was making our sandwiches was also the owner/manager.
He skillfully built three sandwiches at a time, layering everything artistically (and generously) with fast-flying fingers.  He glanced up at me as he neared the container with the jalapeño and banana peppers.
“Peppers too?” he asked.
I nodded. 
He put a couple of slices on.  Paused.  Looked up at me.  “More?”
I smiled and nodded. 
He tipped his head and gave me a cautionary look.  “They’re hot!” he told me, and made a show of fanning his mouth.
I laughed.  “I like hot stuff!” I said.
Then, with a rollicking guffaw, “Good for you, my dear, good for you!” he exclaimed, and tossed enough on to make a fire-breathing dragon out of me. 
And then, as if that wasn’t enough, when we got back to Aunt Lynn’s house, sat down around her table, and began to eat, a number of my kiddos who had been trying to act Bold and Brave with all their hot peppers, threw in the towel – and gave me their peppers.
I put them on my sandwich, and ate it.
You know, there is such a thing as too many hot peppers.
When you not only cannot taste the sandwich, but you also are unable to taste any food for a couple of days thereafter, ...  that’s too many hot peppers.  😲
I started cutting the white background pieces.  I got 75 squares and 150 triangles cut – and then some... animal? bird? went skittering down the inside of the closet door in my sewing room.
Larry, who is hard of hearing, thinks I imagine half of what I hear.  Well, if so, Teensy cat imagined it right along with me!  He was sleeping in the hallway just outside the sewing room door, and he woke up fast, and stared with big eyes at the closet door.  It was open a few inches, because I’d been getting fabric bins out, and then putting them back on shelves in there; and there is a cord from a wall light that goes into the closet, with the switch just inside the door, too.  So Teensy and I both stared at that opening for a few minutes to see what might emerge, and then I slammed it shut – and stood there and listened for whatever else might happen.
Nothing happened.
I did what I do best – I went for Larry.
He was having his usual before-bedtime nap in the tub.  But he obligingly finished his bath quickly and came downstairs.  I was in my sewing room at the cutting table again, trying to make like a dragonfly and keep a 360° watch all around me.
Larry stealthily opened the door and came sneaking in – and made me laugh, because he was dressed all in black, with his riding gear on ----- and in one hand, he had his high-powered pellet gun.  hee hee  Looked funny.
He conducted a thorough search of my closet, and found nothing.  No tracks, no claw marks. 
Every now and then, especially this time of the year, I hear mice in the walls.  That always makes me stop whatever I’m doing, and rush around setting mouse traps.  😝  Whatever this was, it sounded bigger than a mouse.  Maybe it was in the closet wall, instead of against the inside the door and loose in the closet itself, as I’d thought.
Ugh!  The joys of country living.
In case you’re wondering, we’ve never seen any rats around this area.  Mice... voles... chipmunks... ground squirrels... moles... raccoons... opossums... squirrels... skunks... ferrets... and the larger wild animals. 
I set a bunch of mouse traps – and have caught four mice since then.  Maybe it was just a mouse that I heard.
Friday, I needed to take the box with my customer’s quilts to the post office, and was dreading the moment when I’d have to put my sore toes into a shoe.  It was too cold to wear flip-flops – only 34°, with a wind chill of 21°, steady winds of 25 mph, and gusts up to 41 mph. 
Another load of clothes was in the washer.  I ate an English muffin... fed the livestock (three cats)... and then Hannah called, wondering if I’d like some company.
Sure, I’d like some company! – especially hers.  So she came out to visit for a while that afternoon, bringing some of her quilling (paper craftwork – and she makes such beautiful things) to work on while I edited photos.  We talked as fast as ever we could, but simply couldn’t get everything said that we wanted to say before she had to rush off to school to pick up her kiddos.
When she headed back to town, she took the box of quilts with her and mailed it for me.  I appreciate my thoughtful children!
I posted the pictures from October 9th, the last day of our trip to Colorado.  These photos were taken from Chadron to Keller Park State Recreation Area north of Ainsworth
Deciding it was the perfect day for ham and butterbean soup, I threw the beans into a pot, cooked them slowly for an hour, rinsed and drained them, and started them cooking again with the chunks of ham, and then rummaged around in the refrigerator for more ingredients.  I found one lonesome onion, sliced it up and threw it in... found some celery, sliced a few sticks and put them in... and then I spotted a big zucchini someone gave us, so I peeled it, removed the seeds, sliced and diced it, and put it in, too.  I hadn’t ever done that before. 
Soon it was bubbling away on the stove, sending up fragrant aromas, and making my mouth water.
I tasted a little spoonful after it had simmered for a few minutes, and mmmm, mmm, was it ever good.  I would’ve liked to have had some carrots, but there were none to be had in the entire house, and no snowmen standing in the neighbors’ yards from which I might steal the noses. 
Thinking Larry might be heading home by then, I sent him a text, asking him to pick up a package of shredded carrots (the shredded ones cook a whole lot faster than the whole ones).
But he was helping with the construction of a big hog barn some distance to our north that day.  It was cold there, and Larry was glad he’d worn his flannel-lined jeans.  There are many areas up that way where cell phone service is practically zilch, so he didn’t get my message for a while – and was late getting home, in any case. 
He arrived with the carrots as I was about to ladle soup into bowls.
“Wait!” he exclaimed.  “Here’s the carrots!”
“We’ll save them for something else,” I told him.  “The soup is already done.”
“Can’t we just pitch the shredded carrots into it and call it good?” he asked, looking wistfully into the carrotless pot of soup. 
“Aaaauuuggghhh, NO!!!I exclaimed, clapping the lid back on for fear he’d haul right off and do it.
“Why not?” he asked, poised to tear open the bag.
I made a face.  “Just, no,” I said.
He laughed and put the carrots into the refrigerator.
So the ham and bean soup had no carrots, but with salt and pepper and a dollop of butter, it would do.  It would do very well indeed.
That night, I finished all the cutting for the Baskets of Lilies quilt, and then glued all the stems onto their background pieces in preparation for appliquéing them.  This time, I used an Elmer’s Repositionable Picture and Poster Stick.  More often, especially for little finicky pieces of appliqué, I use watered-down Elmer’s school glue in a little bottle with a long needle tip.  It’s pretty much the same ingredients as the more expensive Roxanne Glue-Baste-It.  It doesn’t get stiff, washes out fine, and doesn’t discolor the fabric.
The next day, I checked the stems, and they are all soft and pliable.  The poster stick works!  As soon as I get these all appliquéd down, I’ll be ready to piece the rest of the block.
I like to do things ‘assembly-line style’.
((...pause...))
Sometimes I then rip things out, assembly-line style.
Yup, yup, a test piece is a jolly good idea.
One of my favorite points in quilt-making is right when everything is all cut out, and it’s time to start sewing. 
I used to like that point in garment-making, too.  I’d get a couple of outfits cut out for each of the kids... have a tall stack of the fabric pieces that would make up shirts, pants, skirts, blouses, dresses, nightgowns, pajamas... and then I’d put away all the fabric I hadn’t used, sit down at the machine, pick up the first pieces, and launch into the sewing. 
A customer wrote to ask, “I have several baby-sized quilts to send you in the near future.  Would you prefer to get multiple at a time, or as I go? Or does it matter?”
I answered, “It doesn’t matter to me; you can send them in whatever way works best for you.  Maybe not all at once, just in case...” and I told her the following story:
In the years I’ve been sending and receiving quilts, nothing has ever been lost.  But I always hold my breath until they arrive safely.  One time a box arrived from a customer, and she hadn’t used much packaging tape – and the entire bottom was sagging low, partially open, with quilts sticking out at the sides.  Aiiiyiiiyiii.  They weren’t damaged, thankfully.  I told her about it, and suggested she use more tape the next time, and put the quilts into a bag.
She did.
One piece.
Just o.n.e...m.o.r.e...p.i.e.c.e...o.f...t.a.p.e.
The box was falling apart that time, too, but at least no quilts were sticking out.
Frugal lady!—she didn’t want to waste tape!  Eek.
I like to ‘watch’ those packages, through the tracking websites, as they travel across the states.  ‘Ground’ puts them on funny routes sometimes, though.  They wind up going the wrong way for awhile... turn around and head the other way... overshoot the destination... and eventually come back.  Sometimes they stall out in a sorting facility close enough to your own house, you could go there and get it in an hour or two – but it’s still three days out, by USPS standards.  I think ‘Ground’ actually means ‘The Scenic Route’. 
Larry bought a tractor on the Big Iron Auction online – and it’s in Dove Creek, Colorado.  That’s way over in the southwest corner of Colorado, some 900 miles away. 
I think he looks for things to buy some distance away, especially in Colorado, so that he has an excuse to go there! 
And it was a good price, of course.  He also assures me, “It doesn’t weigh 19,000 pounds, either.” (referring to the scissor lift we picked up in Missouri.) 
He can’t take off work right now.  However, over the Thanksgiving weekend, he gets two paid holidays.  We’ll go get it then, if the man will wait that long for us to pick it up.  
In 2004, we went to Poncha Springs, Colorado, over the Thanksgiving weekend for a big load of lumber for our house.  Caleb and Victoria went with us. 
My only digital picture of Victoria is blurry.  I did get quite a few pictures with my good Minolta film camera; those pictures are in albums somewhere.  Gotta scan them... gotta scan them...  These pictures are all taken with my first digital, a little Vivitar.
We picked up an antique clawfoot tub at a messy little antique store in Matheson on the way there.
After the lumber was loaded, the people at the lumber company used their forklift to put the tub way up on top of the lumber. 
We headed home.  Here’s what it started looking like as we headed back over the mountain passes with our big load:



We decided to head north toward I70 to get away from the storm, which was blowing eastward and beginning to look like a blizzard – with a band of ice leading the way.  We stayed overnight at a motel in Sterling – and the storm took a northerly swing, caught up with us, and grew worse and worse all the way home.
The next morning there were just a couple of inches of snow on the ground – but it would continue to get worse as we drove on into Nebraska.  We saw dozens of wrecks and vehicles that had slid into the ditch.  As we headed into the breakfast nook in the motel that morning, we saw a little boy staring out the window at our pickup and trailer, loaded with lumber, the tub perched up on top, partially covered with snow.
Then, in great amazement, he exclaimed, “Look, Dad!  A submarine!!!” 
I took this shot from our 2nd-floor window.
Below are a couple of the many, many wrecks we saw.  We even saw police cars, wreckers, and snowplows in the ditch.
Let’s hope our travels this year won’t put us into a big snowstorm.  That can be a bit of a nightmare, driving the mountain roads with a loaded trailer – especially when one must share the road with idiots who are evidently from somewhere near the equator, and have never seen snow before in their livelong lives.

Speaking of nightmares... do you dream?  Well, I suppose most people dream.  But many forget what they’ve dreamed.
I have big ol’ psychedelic dreams.  (And I don’t even eat pepperoni before bedtime!)  Sometimes if I wake up abruptly enough, I can remember them (the dreams, not the pepperoni).  Sometimes I remember them through a mist, as it were, and the harder I try to grab the details, the more they recede into the mist.
Did you ever wake up after a dream, think, Well, that was certainly ridiculous and absurd.  ... then you fall back asleep and the silly dream starts up right where it left off, as if there was no interruption?
If it would just be productive and resolve all the questions and matters I’ve pondered during the day!  heh
Saturday, I ate a toasted pumpkin spice English muffin with lots of butter and honey... started a load of clothes... and headed downstairs to quilt something for my sister-in-law, Annette, who was recently diagnosed with ovarian cancer and has started chemotherapy treatments.  It’s a wholecloth printed quilt, and I planned to quilt around the paisleys and swirls in the print.
The fabric is a brushed cotton/poly/rayon, I think, in shades of pink with touches of aqua and yellow.  It feels soft as silk.  It was with my clothing fabrics, and I think, though I’m not absolutely certain, that it was purchased to make a blouse to go with a piece of pink linen I once made a suit jacket and skirt out of.  I believe I was copying an expensive outfit I saw in a catalogue somewhere. 
But the more I looked at that fabric, the more I didn’t want it for a blouse, and I wound up buying a different length of fabric for the purpose.  I kept wondering what to do with it. 
Not too long ago, my brother gave me some bins of fabric and sewing things that used to be Janice’s.  In one was a piece of thick, snowy-white fleece.  It occurred to me, That would make a fine and dandy backing for this paisley, swirly, stuff, and then it won’t need any batting.
I loaded the fabrics, cleaned, oiled, and threaded my machine, and was off and running.  I hoped to finish it that night, but along about 11:00 p.m., my feet decided they wanted to go to my recliner, and when they went, they took the rest of me with them.
Sunday morning, I got up and prepared to go to church – but I couldn’t get my foot into any of my good shoes, and hurt my toes trying. 
“Why am I doing this?!” I demanded of Larry, hopping on one foot until I could get the offending shoe off.  “This is stupid!”
He nodded in agreement.  “Just go sit down and take it easy,” he told me. 
I did, as soon as I put my gazillions of shoes away.  How many shoes did Imelda Marcos have, and am I about to catch up?  Hmmm... Oh.  She had over 1,220 shoes.  Well, I guess I have a ways to go, then.
I later found some flats that will work, but by then the poor toes had swollen and turned colors again from getting crammed into a tight spot of which they disapproved.
That afternoon, I finished Annette’s quilt so Larry could take it with him when he went to church that evening.  One of Annette’s daughter would then give it to her mother.
When I was sewing the binding on, I sent Hester a picture that included the quilting clips she gave me for my birthday, writing, “Lookie, the clips worked perfectly for this job!  So nice, not trying to sew a rosebush (dozens of sharp pins all the way around the quilt), and finishing with my arms looking like I’d had a wrestling match with a porcupine.  The fold-it-to-the-back, stitch-in-the-ditch-from-the-front method will always require pins – but the fold-it-to-the-front, stitch-it-down-with-a-fancy-stitch method will now be accomplished with quilting clips!  They are very nice clips.  Thank you!”
More pictures are here.
A couple of people have remarked that the fabric looks like it has a ‘baby-theme’ print.  But it’s an optical illusion.  It’s paisley swirls, flowers, feathers and suchlike. 
Speaking of optical illusions... a few months ago, I was painstakingly creating what I thought were lovely designs on a customer’s quilt.
When I was done, I saw that all the designs along one border looked exactly like bug-eyed, angry gargoyles. 
A lady on a quilting group sent a link to a tutorial on making rag quilts from old blue jeans.  That reminded me...
I once saw a lady at the Goodwill or Salvation Army gather up an armload of jeans, choosing various colors of blue and navy, and head for the checkout stand.  Another lady tsk-tsked and scowled ferociously at her, after hearing her say something about a rag quilt.
Well, lady, there were plenty more jeans where those came from, and the lady was paying for them just like any other customer, and last I checked, this is the U.S. of A., Land of the Free (sorta, most of the time), and one can buy as many jeans as one wants, any ol’ day of the week.  It wasn’t like she grabbed them out of the other woman’s hands, after all.  ((...rolling eyes...))
Then there was the time I went to the Goodwill for the express purpose of buying shirts.  I had four boys in the house, and they were all growing like weeds.  School was just starting, and they were in dire need of shirts – long sleeve, short sleeve, and sweaters, too.  The hand-me-downs for the little guys were threadbare.  Larry, too, needed shirts.  He wears his out quickly, with his job in construction.
Since shirts were on sale that day for $1.99, I chose about ten shirts for each boy and for Larry, and a couple of sweaters for each, one for everyday, one for dressier occasions.  My criteria for choosing clothes at the Goodwill is... they must look new.
That made 50 shirts and 10 sweaters.  $120.  Not bad for that much stuff.  That would be enough to keep the boys shirt-clad for a year – and there would be newer and better hand-me-downs next year.
The cart was full.  It’s not unusual to see people with full carts at the Goodwill, especially on sale days.  There’s enough stuff at our Goodwill that it would take an awful lot of full cartloads rolling out of that store to make any sizeable change in inventory.
I happily pushed the cart up to the checkout stand. 
And then I saw the elderly lady in a nearby aisle glaring at me, shaking her head, clicking her tongue, ...  She actually shook her finger at me, like a disapproving old schoolmarm!
I looked at her for a while, trying to decide if she was kidding... or not.
When the scowling and tut-tutting didn’t stop, and I heard her mutter something about ‘people who take more than their share’, I concluded she was not kidding.
So I grinned at her and said (just loudly enough for all those who’d witnessed her censorious little display to hear me), “Would you rather I sent my family off to school and to work in their bare skin?”
She didn’t expect that.  She looked surprised, and then when everybody around us laughed, her face turned red.
The clerk laughed along with everyone else, and told me, “You’re fine, you’re fine,” as she started tallying up my things.
Some people go around trying to police everyone else, without ever bothering to find out their stories at all, and get away with it for so long, they’re totally convinced they’re behaving exactly properly!  Ugh.  I don’t appreciate bullies.
Anyway, I don’t know if she quit bullying anybody else, but she did quit bullying me.  I was not about to be intimidated for buying things for my family, things they really needed.
All around the countryside, cattails are going to seed, the fluffy down from their seed heads blowing hither and yon.
Did you know that these plants have been used for rush-bottom furniture, baskets, and mats?  The downy seeds have been used to stuff pillows and mattresses, and during World War II were used to stuff life jackets.  Native Americans were experts in using every part of the plant, not only for stuffing or the waterproof qualities of the leaf, but as a reliable food source.  All parts of the cattail plant, from the roots to the flower heads, are edible.  The rootstock can be boiled or roasted, or dried and ground into a powdery flour.  The center of the stalks is thick and starchy and the flower heads can be roasted for a nutty tasting treat.  Cattail plants have industrial uses as well.  Plant parts can be distilled into ethyl alcohol for antifreeze or an inexpensive solvent, and the stems produce a sizing for shaving cream.
I remember gathering up a nice ‘bouquet’ of cattails when I was little, and installing them in a place of prominence in a large, heavy vase in my room.  I was so amazed when I came home from school one day, and found ‘fluff and fuzz’ all over my room.  I didn’t know those things did that! 😯😮😄
Amy called a little while ago to see if I needed anything from the store.  I have sweet, thoughtful kids and kids-in-law!
Here’s what just happened:
Tabby begs for food.  I set his saucer with soft food down for him.  He nibbles.  He quits.  I don’t notice, and Teensy moves in and makes short work of it.
And Tabby is at my feet again, begging for food. 
It must not have been ‘fresh’ enough – I opened it a whole 3 or 4 hours ago, after all.  😝
The toes are getting better.  They wouldn’t be complaining quite so much if I’d quit bumping them into things!  There’s something about limping about in an ungainly manner, trying to protect one’s appendages, that makes one more liable than ever to bonk said appendages into things one normally avoids with ease. 

And now... it’s time to take them to bed.


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



Monday, October 23, 2017

Journal: Broken Toes and Explosions (and Quilts, of Course)

Last Monday, my brother brought me a box full of pieces of craft felt, large and small.  He’d found it with my late sister-in-law’s sewing/ crafting things.  She was always making things for her nieces and nephews, and several of the felt pieces had designs drawn on them (little Christmas trees, animals, etc.). 
I’m considering giving the whole works to one of the granddaughters along with a big nice book on felt crafts, and maybe some supplies to go with it (glue, and whatever else one uses for felt crafts).
Loren asked, “Have you recovered from your vacation?” 
“Ha!” I retorted.  “That was no vacation.  That was a TRIP!  There’s a difference.”
He laughed at that.
Tuesday, I did a bit of housework, paid some bills, then went off to Hobby Lobby for batting for a customer’s quilt.  There are evidently a lot of quilts being made around here, for Hobby Lobby has a hard time keeping their racks of batting stocked.
Home again, I got back to work on a customer’s 30’s Mini Bow Tie quilt, finishing it late that night. 
Wednesday, I prepared to load another customer’s quilt on my frame – and discovered that the top measured 76” x 86”, while the back measured 77” x 88”. 
That doesn’t give me enough leeway to attach the backing to my frame.
So, after inquiring into whether my customer was willing to pay me an extra $25 for the service, I attached 4-5” strips of muslin to all sides of the quilt back, using water-soluble thread.
I also discovered that both the front and the back of the quilt were pieced; it was a double quilt.  I can never guarantee that any pieced backing will be perfectly centered behind the quilt front, though I try hard to make it so.  To see why this is the case, pick up a thick magazine and roll it tightly in your hand.  See how the pages slide and move against each other, until they no longer meet at the edges?  That’s what happens when I roll quilt, batting, and backing together.  Also, the quilting itself may take up slightly more fabric either on top or on bottom.  It’s variable.
I’ve put together a number of ‘double quilts’, as it were, and while I’m better able to guess at it and get them centered well than I was when I first started using my quilting frame, it’s still a bit of a guessing game. 
And now, here’s my Tip of the Day:
Don’t sew extender strips on the sides of a quilt back with water-soluble thread in the bobbin – and then press it with steam.
You’re welcome. 
(Fortunately, I remembered right when I pulled the ‘steam’ trigger, and jerked the iron away fast, just as clouds of steam came billowing outThe strip was still intact.)
I even remembered to remove the bobbin with the water-soluble thread as soon as I was done.  I keep the bobbin tucked inside the cone of soluble thread, and both are inside the plastic bag in which it came.  Imagine sewing a dress with that stuff by accident – and then getting caught in a rainstorm.  😲😱😬😯😨
Here’s something I’ve long had a penchant for doing.  It started with little girls’ dresses and those long, long strips of ruffling.  I skillfully switched over to long quilt rows, sashes, borders, and bindings, in order to keep up the fun.
It’s this:  I cut a long strip.  I sit down at the machine.  I start sewing the strip to other strips/the rest of quilt/the garment/whatever.  Halfway through the seam, the entire works gets violently jerked sideways, messing up the seam.
Huh?
Oh.
I’m sitting on the end of the strip.
After those backing kafuffles, it was nice to pause with the quilting and go to our midweek church service. 
Victoria sent some pictures of baby Carolyn that evening.  I found them as we were driving home from church, and started to write back to Victoria, “She’s the cutest little thing,” but my tablet thought ‘turtle’ was the better choice, so I left it:  “She’s the cutest little turtle.”  hee hee  (I did explain what happened.)
Victoria, as expected, wrote back, “I like it.  😆😆😆
Home again, I got back to the quilting.  I had three more quilts to do, and then I was saying ‘no more until after Christmas.’  My goodness, I’ve been swamped with customer quilts since June! 
I have rugs to make... quilts for the kids... kitchen chairs to reupholster...  Oh, well.  At least I’m making a little money, I get to stay home whilst I’m a-doin’ it, and it’s something I enjoy, though it’s been sorta hard on arthritic neck, shoulders, wrists, knees, and even feet.
I told the lady in Washington state that I’d be able to help her get hers finished (after the first of the year) – and then I found out she wasn’t kidding when she said she had 150 quilts that needed to be quilted!  Aiiiyiiiyiiieee.
She sent me a nice picture of her brother with the quilt she made for him, the Golden Days of Hollywood quilt that I quilted for her recently.  I wrote back, “Isn’t it fun to give people things, when they appreciate them?  My brother still talks about the quilt I gave him (using blocks his late wife cross-stitched), and shows it to visitors.  Makes me happy I did it for him.”
Thursday afternoon, I took a quilt to the post office and shipped it back to my customer.  It cost $26.32 to mail it.  I always underestimate the cost of the bigger, heavier quilts.
I met my own brother at the post office.  He’s still friendly as ever, and people still like him just like they always have. 
Victoria sent more pictures of baby Carolyn, this time clad in a little sundress we gave her.  It was hot that day – perfect day to wear a sunny little sundress.
Later that evening, Victoria sent pictures of Malinda and Carolyn together in their matching Little Mouse outfits. 
They're just the sweetest little things!  😍  Malinda almost always has a little thumb in the mouth.  Usually, she makes a chubby little fist whilst she’s a-slurpin’ on it. 
I like to say, “Slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp!” to her, and make her lose suction because she can’t keep from grinning at me.
Malinda was born June 19th; Carolyn September 2nd.  They’re only about a pound different in size. 
By bedtime that night, I’d gotten Larry’s work clothes – including coveralls and sweatshirt – washed, and was about half done with my customer’s Halloween quilt. The pantograph is called ‘Halloween Bats’.
As you’re sewing or quilting, do you ever think about those new-fangled features on our machines that we get so used to?  I’ve been using a knee lever to lift presser feet since I got my first Bernina in 1978. 
Ten years ago or so, I got a serger. 
I serged a seam... took a swipe at the knee lever with my right knee – and nearly tumbled off my chair, because sergers don’t have knee levers, and there was nothing there to catch me.  😆
Friday afternoon, it got up to 70°, and was bright and sunny.  I had a couple more loads of wash to do, plus the cat beds.  The cats, picky things that they are, stop sleeping in their beds if I don’t wash them (the beds, not the cats) fairly often, even though they have nothing but a slight dusty-cat aroma.  It’s their own fragrance, Kitty Eau de Félin Cologne, for pity’s sake!  
One of the cat beds was air-drying atop the dryer, and Teensy could often be found sitting in front of the dryer that afternoon, staring up at the bed.  If he determines it’s dry, he leaps right up there and makes himself at home.
There was the possibility of rain in the forecast that night, so I hurried to wash clothes and towels, and hang them on the line.
At 20 after 3, I got a text from Amy asking if I could pick up the children at school – she’d gone out to the van with the little ones, and discovered it locked.  With the keys inside. 
Four-year-old Grant had locked the keys in their van.  Again.
I hurried off to school, and got there just before the children got out.  On the way home, they sadly told me that a kitten had gone missing – but I no sooner pulled up in the drive than one of them spotted the kitten up by the house.  The kiddos in the middle seat got so excited over Kitten Come Home (did you ever read that story in the Golden Books when you were little?) that they bailed out and took off on a dead run, totally forgetting to release the seat and let the little tykes in seat #3 out of the vehicle.  😃
“They’re tired of you, and hoped I’d take you home with me!” I explained to Josiah and Leroy.  They grinned.
But Li’l Losted Kitten was home again, and there was great rejoicing in the land!
I posted some photos from October 7thFrom Georgetown, CO, to Torrington, WY
My mother-in-law, Norma, called that evening to tell me that her brother, Clyde, has a brain tumor.  He has an appointment with a neurologist, and will find out what the next course of action is.  They found the tumor because he kept passing out, and couldn’t keep food down.
That night, I broke a couple of toes – or at least I thought at the time it was just a couple; by last night it was clear that all three smaller toes on my right foot are broken.  This, from kicking a doorjamb in the kitchen.  😲 😬  Waa waa waa
And I had just a couple more rows to go on my customer’s quilt before it was done!  Botheration! 
Since it looked like the toes were in place, I elevated the foot and used a gel pack on it for a while, swallowed a couple of ibuprofen, then collected the cane I acquired back when I sprained my ankle in 2008, and hobbled down the stairs to my quilting machine.  
I recommenced quilting, muttering to myself, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...  (toe hurts, toe hurts, toe hurts)...  Those last two rows were a pain.  Literally.
At about 11:30 p.m., there was a loud, crashing boom that rattled the house.  I brought my quilting machine to an abrupt stop.  Was that thunder?  The quilting machine is noisy enough, I couldn’t be sure.  I slid the window open and listened. 
Nothing.  No rain, no more thunder.  Had Larry dropped his phone or tablet, upstairs directly overhead, as he is oft wont to do?  I didn’t think so; the boom had rolled on a little too long for that.
I started quilting again, a question mark hovering over my head.
I heard a text come into my laptop from Hannah, and went to read it.
“Huge explosion-sounding bang just happened!” she wrote.  “The kids could see a flash out their south windows.  The house rattled, and the floor shook.”
“I heard it!” I responded.  “Wonder what on earth it was!  Our house shook, too.  Natural gas explosion?  Are any homes in town heated with natural gas?  Do you hear any sirens?”
A couple of minutes passed, then Hannah wrote, “Street lights are out.  I see flashing lights close to Cubby’s (gas station).  A lot of smoke.”
Another minute, and then, “It’s at Gehring’s (our friends’ ready-mix plant).  Possibly a cement truck on fire there.”
A few tense moments went by while I wondered if anyone had been there when that explosion occurred, and then Hannah told me, “No one was hurt.  The fire is out now.  It’s one of the trucks that has a natural gas tank.”
By the next day, we would learn that when that gas tank exploded, the truck’s water tank, as big as a stove, flew sky-high and hit the power lines overhead and brought them down, taking out not just street lights, but all the electricity on a good portion of the west side of town. 
Can you believe this thing used to be a cab??!
Three cement trucks, including the one that blew up, were totaled, and three others seriously damaged, including my brother-in-law John’s cement powder truck.  It got so hot in his cab, the hood of his nylon jacket that he had over his seat melted.  One of the men jumped in it (must’ve been hot) and backed it up without waiting for the air pressure to build – just slid the back tires.  There was sand on the concrete, so the rear tires weren’t damaged.  Tires on the side closest the fire blew out, however. 
Despite the sore toes and the excitement over the explosion, I got the quilt done, took it off the frame, trimmed it, and finally threw in the towel.  My recliner and the recooled (should be a word) gel pack were calling.  But... going up the stairs with a laptop, cellphone, and cane in one hand and a full coffee cup (why was it still full??) in the other was a little tricky.  The cane was of no use right then, so I balanced it in a couple of fingers, then pressed the coffee mug into service as a ‘cane’, setting it on every other step and using it to support part of my weight as I clambered upwards.
No, I didn’t take any ‘selfies’ as I was about this ungainly operation, so if you can’t figure out how I managed from my description, it’s too bad, so sad.
Saturday, I launched into the morning bath/shampoo ritual, trying not to bump those toes on anything.
Then, to add insult to injury, I walked out into the kitchen to make myself some coffee, and discovered that Teensy had dispatched of a none-too-small rabbit, with the resulting colossal mess.  Aaaaaauuuuggghhh.
I cleaned up the majority of it, decided it was too painful (literally) to complete the job, and left the rest for Larry.  I’m a good wife; I share all the unpleasant tasks with my husband.  Ha!  I even called him and told him my tale of woe, and he, like a good husband (why did that phrase make me start singing the State Farm jingle?), promised to come home shortly and finish the chore. 
Finally getting the desired coffee, I limped back to the bathroom to curl my hair.  Standing at the mirror with all my weight on one foot got tiring pretty fast, so I pulled up the clothes hamper and sat on it, resting my battered foot on a little space heater. 
“Now, if the hamper lid doesn’t give way,” I remarked to Teensy, “everything’s cherry!”
It’s one of those Rubbermaid hampers.  I sat as lightly as possible, and tried not to make any rash movements.
The hamper valiantly held me up, and ten minutes later I was coiffed and ready to face the world (or house, as it were).  Or at least hobble out into it.
I tried this broken-toe escapade once before, some 23 years ago.  It didn’t feel so good then, and it doesn’t feel so good now.
A friend, upon hearing my tale of woe, wrote, “I’ve broken a couple of toes over the years, but never two at once!  It’s much easier to deal with one broken toe than two!”
I don’t know why that would be, exactly, unless two or three broken toes doubles or triples the pain.  Maybe if each foot sported a broken toe... 
I responded, “Well, I was very efficient and broke two side by side, so that whilst I’m a-babyin’ the one, the other gets babied right at the same time.  Wasn’t that clever of me?”
Another friend wrote, “I’m sorry to hear about your toes.  Will you be seeing a doctor?”
“Naaaa...” I answered, “the toes look straight enough.  They’d probably tape them and tell me to stay off it, elevate it, apply something cold...  I’d come home, untape it, and follow the rest of the advice.”
That other time I broke a toe, some 23 years ago...  Well, here, I’ll just insert this excerpt from an old journal of mine:

I did an extreme stunt this morning.
It was a triple back flip.
Or at least, it felt like a triple back flip.
Though I could be mistaken.
(Sometimes, just getting out of Larry’s tallll pickup feels like bungee jumping from the Auckland Bridge.  But I digress.)
The supposed triple back flip was executed accidentally in an heroic attempt to avoid putting a foot squarely into the middle of sweet little Tabby cat, who has never realized that, because he blends so nicely into the living room rug, he should therefore NOT lie there.
In the end, as it turned out, the supposed triple back flip was entirely unnecessary, because. . . .   it was not Tabby.
It was a little stuffed puppy that just happens to be the identical color as Tabby.
I’m writing from my hospital bed where I lie in traction.
{Not… really.}
I broke a toe once.  No, not triple back-flipping.  Rather, Hester and Lydia (ages 5 and 3) and I were having a pillow fight.  I was dressing Caleb, age 1, and they came sneaking (as well as two little girls can sneak, when they can’t quit giggling) down the hall, pillows in hand, and let fly at me. 
I exclaimed, which made Caleb giggle, too, helped him down, grabbed the pillows, and went flying out the door after two running, giggling, screeching little girls.
Only one toe nearly got left behind on the doorjamb.
Momentum carried me some distance down the hallway before I could get stopped, even though I was hopping on one foot.  The little girls, near the front door at the far end of the hallway, assumed all these theatrics were for their benefit, and laughed so hard they were bent double.
The trouble was, our Christmas program was in two days – and I had to play the piano!  Furthermore, I had a new purple satin suit – and new purple pumps to match.  One must wear one’s matching purple heels, no matter what.  Right?
Right.
The night of the program, after spending the afternoon with my foot propped up, making cassette tapes for the children in my Jr. Choir, I got dressed, gritted my teeth, and p.u.t...t.h.a.t...s.h.o.e...o.n...m.y...f.o.o.t.  The room swam.  I regathered my equilibrium, set my chin, and marched off to church.  And I played the piano, using the foot with the poor broken toe on the sustain pedal valiantly.  The foot had grown somewhat numb by the time the program was over, an hour and a half later.  The children exited the stage as the organist played softly.  I stood up.
I sat back down. 
Scooping up what shreds of fortitude I had left, I stood up, set my jaw, and followed the children down the stage steps.  A.A.A.A.A.u.u.u.g.g.g.g.h.h.h.
When I got home and pried those shoes off my feet, the room turned psychedelic for a few moments.  I sat down in a recliner, lifted the foot rest, and let everyone else do all the rest of the Christmas work – making soup, letting in the company, doling out gifts, etc.  I sat and took photos and opened gifts and yelled “Watch out for my foot!” at periodic intervals.
The toe was getting better about three weeks later, when, as I was standing in the kitchen behind Larry’s chair, he scooted back without warning, lifting his chair before reseating himself.  One chair leg landed on that toe.
Everyone in the room heard it crack. 
I gasped – and closed my mouth.  One mustn’t frighten the babies. 
But Larry had fingerprints in his shoulder for days.

We now return you to your regular programming.
I ate an English muffin slathered with butter and blueberry jam for breakfast, sitting with foot propped up on my tapestry footstool, with the gel pack underneath my toes.  I inquired into whether or not the toes would agree to starting on my customer’s second quilt, Americana, or if they preferred that I work on pictures or cross-stitching.  They were getting quite colorful.  (The toes, that is.) 
The toes tried to answer, but my shoulder drowned them out, as it was hurting worse than my toes at the moment.  I’d injured it, hanging onto the railing the previous night as I went up and down the stairs a few times, trying to keep weight off that foot. 
And then it occurred to me that I didn’t have batting for quilt #2.  The toes told me (rather loudly and rudely, I thought) that they did not want to trippity-trip to the far side of Hobby Lobby, where the batting is kept.
So I rummaged around in my batting pieces, found a fairly large piece of cotton batting that felt like the batting I had left over from the Halloween quilt, butted them together, and used a 9mm zigzag to connect them.  One is Warm & Natural and one is Warm & White; but the fabric is dark, and it will never show.  Under the dense Eagle with Stars pantograph I’m using, the batting joint will never be noticed, either. 
The customer is happy, because it saved her a few dollars.  The toes are happy, because it saved them some pain.
I loaded the quilt and got started. 
Everyone thinks this panto is difficult – but the truth is, it’s a whole lot easier than the Halloween Bats panto.  That one, I struggled with – mainly because of the large circles.  My machine prefers to do round-cornered squares. 
I always enjoy quilting designs with birds, especially when the pantograph is as pretty as this one.  It’s turning out good.
Victoria sent a piece of pumpkin chiffon pie home for me with Larry that afternoon.  She made it with coconut milk instead of evaporated milk.  I couldn’t tell any difference.  It was scrumptious.
Later, she wrote to say that Kurt tried out for choir – and will be singing in the men’s choir.  So I sent her the lyrics of a song we learned long ago from the Children’s Bible Hour:
♪ ♫  All God’s chillen ♪ ♫ gots a voice ♪ ♫ in de choir!  ♪ ♫ Some sing low, ♪ ♫ and some sing highuh! ♪ ♫  Some sing outside ♪ ♫ on de tellyphone wy-uh; ♪ ♫ and some just claps ♪ ♫ zare hands, ♪ ♫ or paws, ♪ ♫ or innysang dey gots now! ♪ ♫
I managed to get one row completed on the quilt.  Then I migrated back upstairs to my recliner and worked on photos until bedtime.  I had the gel pack under my toes on the footstool.  I had my choice of piping hot coffee or iced tea on the end table beside me.  Big ol’ Tiger cat was purring nearby, and all I had to do to replenish his rumble if it started fading was croon, “Nice old kitty!”
Yep, I had things pretty good, sore toes notwithstanding.
I couldn’t put my foot into a shoe, so I didn’t go to church yesterday.  I wasn’t about to try what I did with the purple pumps of yesteryear.  Nowadays, age and vanity are traveling in opposite directions on the bar graph! 
Back then, ‘heels’ were 3- and 4-inchers.  Now, ‘heels’ are, at the most, 2 ½”.  I’ve always preferred going barefoot, though.  Hence the Toes-Versus-Doorjamb Drama.
Not only did my toes hurt, but so did my back, from walking like the crooked man with the crooked cane on the crooked walk.
Several quilting ladies suggested steel-toed boots.  Larry offered me his. 
However, I have arthritis in my feet, and going barefoot feels best. 
Unless and until I kick a doorjamb.
Some have informed me, “No, wearing shoes feels best on arthritic feet.” 
Look, I have shoes.  Heels.  Flats.  Sandals.  Flip-flops.  Nice walkers with good support.  I know what feels best on my feet.  You go ahead and wear what feels best on yours; I’ll go ahead and wear (or not wear) what feels best on mine.  Okay?
Larry tried out our wood-burning stove yesterday.  Looks like his caulking job inside the chimney is good!  Smoke went up... out the chimney... and warmth filled the basement.  He let it burn for a while, so the caulking could harden.  He didn’t turn on the furnace fan yet, so the smell of the caulking didn’t permeate the rest of the house.  All is well, we’ll be able to use the wood-burning stove again, and we have quite a lot of wood, so that’ll save us money this winter.  The stove is connected to the heat ducts, so the furnace fan blows heat throughout the house.
I posted more pictures, these from October 8thFrom Torrington, WY, to Chadron, NE
Those are from the day the transmission line broke.
Out in the western Nebraska Sandhills, most of the windmills are very short and down in the valleys, because of the constant winds that blow so strongly.  If they are too tall, they are soon demolished by the wind.
Larry told me that pieces of the cement truck that exploded were found blocks away, in all directions.  If anyone had’ve been nearby, they would’ve been killed.
The explosion probably occurred because a natural gas tank was over-pressurized and leaked.
Speaking of sore toes and health and whatnot... as mentioned, I have moderately severe rheumatoid arthritis.  I hold it at bay by 1) exercising, 2) keeping my weight down (I’d like to lose 10 pounds, but ... I like to eat), 3) eating healthily, and 4) pretending I don’t have it (rheumatoid arthritis, that is).  heh  Well, I haven’t exercised since Friday, when I tried remodeling the house via toes, and I’m feeling decidedly stiff.  So... I’m exercising today.
Here’s a fact:  standing leg lifts, running in place (well, I’m only walking in place, today), etc., make broken toes fuss and complain and swell!
There.  Nothing like giving a health report on almost every page of a journal, eh?  Mama told me that when people say, “How are you?” they’re giving you a friendly greeting, not asking for a health report.  I should be more like my Mama.  She suffered quietly and cheerfully.  Me, I don’t suffer in silence.  I suffer LOUDLYVociferously! 
“Make everyone else suffer too!” – that’s my motto.  :-D   Or at least make ’em laugh.
A customer was planning to send another quilt today, and wanted a panto resembling bricks or telephone poles or something city-ish and modern.  I sent her a few possibilities, but also told her that there just isn’t any way I can perfectly make those nice straight lines in a pantograph, as my machine isn’t computer-driven.  I can make straight lines in custom quilting just fine, because I’m at the front of the machine, using rulers.  But from the rear... trying to follow a pantograph with a laser light...  Not so much.
So she will probably take the quilt to her LQS; they do computerized pantographs.
Now I’m wondering how much they charge... and if it’s so much that sending quilts all the way from Tampa, Florida, to middle Nebraska is worth it!
Several have asked questions about my machine:  It’s an HQ16, and is not computer driven, though it could be upgraded to be so, with the ProStitcher.  The ProStitcher alone – that’s just the computerized part of it – is $9,495.00.  I only paid $2,700 for my machine in the first place!  It’s a 2005, purchased used in 2010.
It has handles front and rear.  I use the ones in front when I am doing custom work – feathers and rulerwork.  I use the ones in the rear when I am following a pantograph with my laser light, holding the handles and guiding the machine along the lines of the design.
We have a steady wind today of about 35 mph, with gusts over 50 mph, and it’ll be like that for three or four more days.  We’re expecting hard freezes the last four days of this week.  And our wood-burning stove is back in working order!
Okay, back to the quilting, and back to a few ‘unstiffening’ exercises.



~ Sarah Po’, Po’ Me Lynn, trying to stay out of the way of Larry’s chair legs ~