Journal: New Beginnings, and a New Baby

 

Last Monday morning, we took Loren to the nursing home that had accepted him.  Larry, who stayed with him overnight, as he’d done almost every night for the last month and a half or so, was up early, taking out the trash, and fixing breakfast.  When Loren got up, Larry told him what we were doing and where we were going. 

“The people at this assisted-living home (not quite what it’s called, but sounds a little better than ‘nursing home’, maybe) will feed you three meals a day and help you with all sorts of things.  There will be doctors there who can help you with memory loss,” explained Larry.

“They’re quacks!” Loren informed him.

Larry tried to convince him, “No, they’re legitimate doctors who are good at what they do,” but Loren wasn’t buying it.

When I arrived at a quarter after eight and walked in the door, it was like walking into an oven.  I went to turn the thermostat down, and then exclaimed, “You have this thing set at 90°!”

Once upon a time, Loren would’ve been concerned over that, knowing it was costing him money.  But no longer. 

He grinned and said to Larry, “Now she’s going to run around opening all the windows and doors!”

So he remembered me doing that, one day a couple of weeks earlier when the social service workers were coming.

I told him, “You could fry eggs on your floor!”

He did laugh about that.

He didn’t want to go anywhere, really, but we coaxed him into it, giving him stuff to carry, helping him on with a coat, and so forth.  Larry helped him put on a flannel plaid shirt-coat with Sherpa lining.  He started to take it off – but I think because it was so soft and warm, he changed his mind and decided to leave it on.

He kept sitting down, putting the bags of food and whatnot that I’d handed him onto the table, and removing his gloves.  I picked up the gloves, gave them back to him, and said, “You have to wear these!  It’s cold out there.”

He put them on, then started to take them back off.  I quickly handed him a bag with bottles of smoothies and a box of Rice Chex.  “Here are some snacks for the road!” I said cheerily.

He took the bag, set it down.  I gave him his cap.  “Put this on!” I ordered.  “It’ll keep your head from getting cold.”  He put it on, started to take it back off – and I handed him the bag again.  “Here are some smoothies!  They’re Dannon, and really good.”  He took it, peered inside.

He started to set it on the table.  I gave him his Bible, which was in a handled case.

“Can you carry this, too?” I asked.  I put it in his other hand before he could protest.

That seemed to baffle him, as he then had no free hand with which to remove hat or gloves.

“We have to hurry!” I said, heading for the door.  “We’ll be late!”

Loren never wants to be late.  He got up and came along behind me, then started to put the Bible and case down on the banister.  I handed him another book. 

“Here’s your book on Siberian huskies that Teddy gave you,” I said.

Thus weighed down with stuff, he came down the stairs and out the door behind me, looking a little bit disgruntled and a little bit perplexed.  Larry pointed out the place in the vehicle where he should sit, and opened the door for him.

He got in, complaining, “I don’t go to these places!”

Larry got behind the steering wheel, started the BMW, and hurriedly backed out of the driveway.

I pointed out the spot where I’d seen a little red fox as I drove toward Loren’s driveway.  He’d sat up cute and tall as I turned onto the street, the better to see me, then whirled and scampered into the cornfield, bushy tail waving.  I talked about the fiery sunrise and the fog over the cornfields.

“You’re just trying to change the subject!” Loren said in a pouty tone.

“I’m trying to talk about sunrises and little red foxes and fog,” I said.  “What do you want to talk about?”

He had no idea.

As we pulled onto the bypass, he said unhappily, “I don’t go with you on these doctor’s appointments!”  Then he added, “Those doctors are all quacks!”

He asked multiple times where we were going and why, as we drove.  We gave him the same answer, each time.  “Why aren’t we there yet?” he asked once or twice.

“Because it’s a trick highway, and everything gets farther away, the longer we travel it,” I told him.

He was unimpressed with my humor.  It didn’t matter; I was pleased enough with my cleverness for the both of us.

We stopped at a Co-Op for gas.  As soon as Larry got out to fill the vehicle, Loren said, “Sarah Lynn, maybe now you can tell me where we’re going!”

I laughed, “‘Now’?  Is that different than ‘before now’?”  He tried to rephrase the question, and I said, “You mean, ‘now that Larry is out of the car’?” 

He stuttered around... because that is what he meant.  I repeated what Larry had told him.

Then he decided that we were going there for an appointment for me.  He asked, “How long have you had this problem with memory... uh... forgetfulness?”

I turned around, looked at him, grinned, and said, “I can’t remember.”

He did have to smile about that.

We got to the nursing home at 10:00. 

As we got closer to his assigned room, I heard a lady down the hall a little distance howling like a banshee.  Yikes.

The staff seemed a bit disorganized when we arrived.  But I suppose all sorts of unorganizing (should be a word) things happen in nursing homes and hospitals.

The room wasn’t ready for him.  All that was in there on his side was a bare bed.  The nurses were soon scurrying around gathering bed linens and bedspread, and a young man hauled in a small dresser, pillows, and a lamp.

When the nurse began making the bed, I started helping her, and Loren hurried over to help.  The mattress was plasticky (probably it really was covered in plastic); I worried that it would be uncomfortable.  About the time they brought us a pile of hangers, the man who had the other side of the room came in – and Loren promptly began dividing up the hangers to give some to him (though he kept the lion’s share, only doling out two)... while the other man stared, concerned, and began trying to tell us that this, that, and the other thing on Loren’s side of the room was “Mine!”

At one point, the man said in a sort of sad tone, “I paid a lot of money for this apartment; it’s expensive!” (perhaps meaning, he paid for it, it was all his, and he shouldn’t have to share.)

Realizing what he was starting to say, I scrambled to distract Loren with an armload of things to put away, nodded, said, “Yes!” and smiled understandingly at the man (to keep him from repeating himself, maybe), and hoped his speech was garbled enough that Loren wouldn’t understand, since as we walked into the building, Loren had asked suspiciously, “How much is this going to cost me?!” and I’d lied like an A-One, First-Class, Top-Rate con man, “Not a red cent!”  (Well, I finished the sentence in my head, “—after Medicaid kicks in.”  So it was okay to say that, right?)

Loren would be sharing the room with this man for the next five days, and then the man would be moving out and another would take his place.  This gentleman was a Japanese man, and he had a verse on his wall:  “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” 

The man was pretty sure we shouldn’t be there.  He couldn’t talk very well.  I think English was not his main language – but I also think he may have had a stroke or something that diminished his capacity for speech.  Loren kept stepping closer to him, saying, “Pardon?” and the poor little man didn’t know how to respond to that.

Once he said something that Loren was able to partially understand, and Loren smiled at me and said, “I think we’re beginning to understand each other!”

The man muttered something, whether in agreement or disagreement, I cannot say, and Loren immediately said, “Pardon?” 

I really, really needed to laugh.

Another time, he managed to explain, “I have to stay in this apartment because of my sickness,” and he made a slight gesture toward his head. 

Then he began pointing at Loren’s side of the room, saying, “That’s mine.”  And he had indeed moved some of his clothes into one of Loren’s drawers.  A nurse put them back.

After five or six times of him saying, “That’s mine,” Loren said to him (a little too loudly – I think he thought the man was deaf, since he didn’t always answer questions), “Well, where am I going to put my things?!!” 

The man stepped back – and didn’t say that again.  I hoped they didn’t come to fisticuffs.

I tried to run interference, telling Loren that the man had said he was there ‘because of his sickness,’ as he had once again reiterated, and looking to the man to verify it.  “Right?” I asked.

(Why do I do that?! – expect these poor people to converse ‘normally’.) 

He said, “What?”

I repeated, “You are here because of your sickness?”

He said, “What?” and then, “Christmas?”

So Loren turned to me and said v.e.r.y ... c.l.e.a.r.l.y ... and ... d.i.s.t.i.n.c.t.l.y, “He said Christmas.”

I nodded, “Ah!” – and went back to putting Loren’s clothes away.  He came to help. 

At one point in our putting-away-clothes endeavors, a large man in a wheelchair came blundering into the room.  He then stopped, and it seemed he wanted to exit, but was possibly stuck on the door ledge.

Larry went to help him.  “Did you want to go back out?” he asked, getting a grip on the handles and beginning to push the man forward, planning to circle and go back out the door.

The man got a good, hard grip on the wheels, and planted his feet firmly on the floor.  “Don’t wanna go forward,” he muttered.

Larry, again attempting to move the chair, said, “How about if I just turn you around?”

The man dug in his heels.  “Don’t wanna turn around,” he said in his grumbly voice.

“Do you want me to back you out of the door?” asked Larry accommodatingly.

The man mumbled, “Yeah,” and let loose of the wheels; so Larry backed him out, and off he went, trundling slowly down the hallway.

“He must’ve been a truckdriver in days gone by,” remarked Larry to Loren, which made Loren laugh.

I wondered what would happen when we left; but one of the nurses invited Loren into the coffee and snack room, and he gladly trotted off with barely a quick wave over the shoulder.

Once again, it looks to me as though Loren will definitely be one of the highest-functioning dementia patients there.  Made me feel bad leaving him there.  I hoped he’d find someone with whom he could carry on a conversation, even it wasn’t entirely sensible.

If the psychiatrist asks him what he thinks of the place, he’s liable to say, “It’s an insane asylum!”  😄  (That’s what he accused me of wanting to put him into, a couple of months ago.)

But the move had gone okay, even better than we might have expected. 

After leaving, we went to Bass Pro Shop and lowered the balance on our gift cards by a few dollars.

When we left the store, it was a little after 1:00 p.m., and we were starved.  We decided to give Firebirds Grill another try.  Perhaps they would be less crowded now than they’d been the previous Friday night.

Sure enough, there were only about half a dozen other people in the restaurant.  Even so, the service was slow as molasses in January.  (Come to think of it, it was the last day in January.)

But mmmm, mmm, was the food ever good.  Besides, we were tired, and didn’t mind the wait.  Mental stress can be more draining than physical exertion.

We ordered a ‘sharing’ appetizer of jalapeño deviled eggs.  And just look what we got! 

They were the tallest deviled eggs I’d ever seen.  They were perched in a dollop of the yolk mixture, the better to keep them from sliding around, and there was a chunk of crispy bacon stuck to one side, and a slice of jalapeño pepper stuck to the other.  There’s some kind of yummy sauce squirted on either side of the eggs.  Mmmmmm, they were scrumptious.

I ate my three, and announced, “I’m full.”  Because I was.  Almost.

Larry laughed.  He wasn’t full yet.

Then my Colorado chicken salad arrived.

You can’t tell it, really, but this salad (half gone before I remembered to take a picture) is in a trough.  I’m telling you, that bowl is bigger in circumference than a large, economy-sized meat platter.  And the salad was piled high.

There were apple chunks in it that must’ve been soaked in jalapeño juice.  Hot, hot, hot!  I saved the majority of it in a take-home box, and had it for supper the next night.

I also ordered a bowl of fresh fruit.  It was served in a large, boat-shaped bowl, and heaped with blueberries, strawberries, grapes, pineapple, muskmelon, honeydew, apples, and mangoes.

When Kurt and Victoria gave us the gift card for this restaurant back at Christmastime 2020, they also included a $10 bonus card they’d received for purchasing a number of cards.  Problem:  it had expired exactly a year ago.  We had not been able to use it until now.

We showed them at checkout, and the young man who’d been our server went to get the manager.  She took a look... and proceeded to cancel the amount for the appetizer, as it was $10.99.  So we got the bonus anyway, plus another dollar.  Nice of them.

While we’d been sitting waiting for our food in Firebirds, we’d received a text from Lydia, saying that she’d made spaghetti and meatballs and had enough to share with us for supper, if we’d like.

Being hungry, we said, “Sure!  And thank you!”

We got home around 4:00 p.m.  I would’ve liked nothing better than to take a nap, but the house was in bad need of some attention.  So I got in gear and swept, mopped, vacuumed and dusted.

By suppertime, Larry was hungry enough to have a plateful of spaghetti and meatballs when Lydia arrived.  I was hungry enough to have a saucerful of spaghetti and meatballs.  😅  There was enough left over for a meal the next day.

Lydia had changed the recipe, making a sweet sauce by adding pineapple juice to it.  We really liked it.  I sent some bottles of Bai tea – kula watermelon and strawberry lemonade – home with her.

Later, I sat down in my recliner and tried to do some work on my computer, but my brain had gone to sleep without me, so I gave up and went to tuck it in bed, and the rest of me climbed in with it.

Tuesday morning, I called the nursing home to find out how Loren was doing.  They told me he was fine, though a little confused about where he was and why.  But he had slept well, was eating well, and was joining in with some of their activities, and was in good spirits.  So that made me feel a little better.

Hannah and I spent the day sorting and clearing things out of Loren’s house.  I give a few things away, return items to people who gave them to Loren or Janice or Norma if they want them, give some to Teddy or Hannah to sell, bring a few things home with me, and drop off the rest at the Goodwill or the Salvation Army.

I’m saving some of Loren’s clothes in case he should need them.  After all, he only has seven or eight of each clothing item, and he’s healthy, so he’s liable to be there a good long while.  I saved a few items that are brand-new and still in the packaging; I’ll give them to the grandsons as gifts.  I also brought home several wooden ships with cloth sails; they’ll be for Bobby, as he has a nautical theme in his office. 

I shipped my late Uncle Howard’s paintings to his daughter that morning.  The UPS shipping price was outlandish – a total of $86.89, and I even chose the cheapest way to send it!  I didn't have the right size of box or the right kind of packing, so I let them do it – and it was more expensive than I expected:  Ground Residential, $64.59; a box, $6.23; special packing materials especially for paintings, $9.00; packing for around the works, $6.00; tax, $1.07.  At least insurance came with the shipping cost.    Anyway, I’m glad my cousin will now have these paintings of her father’s.  The gold-framed one hung onto my wall and refused to budge, though.  

The paintings were supposed to get to her two days later, on Thursday.  However, they have not yet arrived, on account of the big snow-and-ice storm that hit Oklahoma the day after I mailed the box.  The UPS tracking page says they should arrive tomorrow.  Makes me nervous, when irreplaceable things get stalled en route!

That same day at Loren's house, I found a pretty little piece my Grandma Winings painted.  No one – not even her, I don’t believe – had known she could paint, and would love doing it, too, until she was in a nursing home in her late 80s.  I plan to send it to our daughter Dorcas, who lives in Tennessee, as she paints quite similarly, even though she saw few of Grandma's painted pieces.

Hannah was cleaning out a closet in one of the offices – and found Janice’s Singer 221-1 Featherweight.  It's in pristine condition, with all the accessories, the manual, and the original case.  I promptly absconded with it. 

No, let me rephrase that:  The Featherweight follered me home.  Warn’t a sol’tary thang ah could do ’bout it, huh-uh, nosiree.

I have often been sad that I gave away my first sewing machine, a Singer (not a Featherweight) (I think it was a Heavyweight, judging by its tonnage).  Loren, who was selling sewing machines at the time, gave it to me.  It was an older machine even then, but it sewed perfectly, and I used it for the next nine years, until I got my Bernina.

I was eight years old.  Loren helped me make a red polka-dot scarf the night he brought it home.  The scarf matched my favorite dress.  He showed me how to measure and cut it, how to cut the lining and sew the pieces right side to right side, leaving a hole to turn it; and how to stitch the hole shut.  We affixed ribbons to the corners, and there I was then, utterly too-too.

Here’s Victoria wearing that same red polka-dot scarf, some 35 years later.

We ate supper, and then I headed for my recliner, tucking a heating pad behind my neck.  Larry was soon in his recliner, too, covered with his favorite wool Log Cabin quilt, getting some much-needed sleep, aka his nap-before-bedtime.  And there we were, then, looking like two happy old fogies again for the first time since Larry started staying overnight at Loren’s house a month and a half ago.  It seems longer.

My VeryFitPro watch told me I’d only done 7,524 steps that day.  Pfffft.  What does it know.

Wednesday, I started washing clothes and bedding, did the dishes, and then began on the taxes.  Bleah.  We will get a refund, though, so at least there’s that.

It took a while to work my way through all the donations, as I had a giant stack of receipts from all those things I cleared out of Loren’s lower level last year and donated.

I got done with the taxes and e-filed them just in time to get ready for church.  I’ll wait until I get the notice from Cruise & Associates to do Loren’s.  They send a checklist of the documents they need.

Meanwhile, Larry, Bobby, and Hannah were working at Loren’s house.

By 6:15 p.m., the clothes were all washed, dried, folded, put away, and the bed was made with fresh sheets and fleece blanket.  I do love crawling into a bed with freshly laundered linens. 

It was -3° when I awoke Thursday morning.  I was working away at Loren’s house when I got a phone call from a doctor who works with the patients at the nursing home where Loren is.  After what happened a couple of weeks ago, I thought, Uh-oh, the moment I saw the name on my phone, and my heart sunk into my socks, which is where one’s heart sinks when one has no shoes on.  But she hastened to assure me that all was well, and she only wanted to get my permission to do a health checkup, and to prescribe medication if necessary.  Relieved, I gave her my permission. 

While talking on the phone, I got a text.  After thanking the doctor for her call, I checked my messages – and discovered I had a new baby grandson!

Andrew and Hester’s baby boy had arrived!

Andrew sent a picture, writing, “Introducing Oliver Percy Anderson, born 8:34 this morning.  Outweighed his sister handily at 5 lbs., 14 oz.”

What happy news this was, for we have prayed often for Hester and the baby.

The baby will be in the NICU for about a week, Andrew said.  He weighs more than his Mama did when she was born!  – she weighed 5 lbs., 2 oz.  Little Oliver was on oxygen for just a day, and had a feeding tube, too.  But he’s progressing rapidly, and will probably be discharged in a couple of days.

Hannah and I worked all day at Loren’s house, and Janice’s sister Judy helped us.

I used a broom handle to slide shoes, jetsam and flotsam, and bins out from under the bed, and, lo and behold, there squished into a bin was the quilt and pillow I’d made for Loren with Janice’s embroidered squares back in the summer of 2015.

So now I have something to enter in the County Fair.  😊

More pictures here:  August Bouquet

Friday found me at Loren’s house again, though a little later than I’d intended, since I’d had another of those nearly sleepless nights.  After falling asleep a little before 1:00 a.m., I woke up two hours later, slept another half an hour – and then was awake until nearly 7.  I should’ve just gotten up.  But right while I was busily trying to convince myself to get up, or to at least set the alarm for 8:00 or so, I fell asleep and didn’t wake back up until 9:30 a.m.  Bother! 

We hadn’t been to the store for a while, so I didn’t have much choice for breakfast.  Fortunately, there was some of the fruit oatmeal I like.  I ate it with milk and with half of a banana sliced into it, and was full.

I walked into Loren’s house to find Larry making breakfast for himself and for Hannah – eggs and toast, with jelly and honey.  My tastebuds were extremely jealous, but my stomach was full.  What a revoltin’ development.

“You could’ve told me you were making breakfast!” I griped.

“I didn’t want to wake you up, if you were still sleeping!” Larry excused himself.

“Hmmph,” retorted I.  “You just wanted to eat it all.”

Larry laughed... Hannah was laughing...  What, they can’t tell I meant it?!

Ah, well.  Someday, I shall have eggs and toast.

At one point in the middle of the afternoon, I happened to glance out the kitchen window toward the east, and there on the road was a tractor slowly coming down the hill, a large round bale of hay in the rear clamps.  I watched for a moment – and then to my surprise along came a cow moseying along behind it... and then another, and then another, until there was a herd of, oh, maybe a couple hundred cows just a-sauntering right down the road like they owned the place.  I’ve seen cattle drives, but never before on 3^rd Avenue! 

Robert was on his way to Loren’s house right then, and had to stop beside the road and wait until the cows got past.  He videoed the operation – and hoped no wayward cow rubbed on his new Suburban as it went by.  Why didn’t I have my camera?!

Here’s a screen grab from Robert’s video.  The video is compressed, so the picture is not very good quality.  These cowboys are on four-wheelers rather than horses.  😄 Loren’s house is at the top right corner of the picture.

Later that afternoon, Larry came home with me to empty some things out of the BMW, as several of the boxes and bins were too heavy for me to lift.  We had a small lunch, and then headed back.

By 6:30 p.m., I’d pulled enough stuff out of Loren’s closet that Larry was able to get Janice and Judy’s mother’s old Lane hope chest out of there.  A couple of minutes later, he found the release button and got the chest open.  The lid top has a needlepoint cushion done in hexagon shapes, and is quite heavy.  Some of the wooden parts of the chest are broken, but it’s fixable.  It’s cedar-lined.  Judging from similar Lane chests online, once it’s refinished it could be worth up to $800.

Judy has said she doesn’t want this hope chest since she has Janice’s, so we plan to give it to Joanna.

Oh, you want to know what was in the chest?

It was stuffed clear full with men’s socks and underwear.  While sorting through it, I saw that all of the long johns were 100% silk, and realized that they had probably been my father’s, as silk was all he could stand to wear when he had a severe case of shingles a year or two before he passed away.  I even made him a pair of woven raw silk pants.  They looked like linen, and were quite nice.  He was in a great deal of misery from those shingles, and the pain lasted many months, maybe even a couple of years.

The shingles could very well have contributed to his death, as the virus that causes shingles is known to increase the risk of stroke or heart attack, even after symptoms subside.

I was looking at some of those clothes after Larry got the lid open – and suddenly spotted fine netting, somewhat wrinkled.  I lifted it out – and discovered it was attached to a satin flower-and-leaf headpiece.  It was Janice’s veil and headpiece for her wedding!

I dug deeper, found a large plastic bag – and inside was Janice’s beautifully handmade cream-colored blouse and skirt.  She did hand-smocking on the top, and both skirt and top have re-embroidered lace appliqués attached by hand.  The skirt is pleated.  The top has leg-o’-mutton sleeves with long, fitted cuffs below the elbow.  Janice created the pattern to duplicate her grandmother’s wedding gown, which Judy found in Janice’s hope chest.  Judy is happy to now have both her grandmother’s and her sister’s wedding dresses.

That evening, Lydia texted me the words of a song Malinda was singing to the tune of Jesus Loves Me:  “It’s my birthday, this I know; for the Bible tells me so; I’m a grownup; I’m a grownup!!”

Hahaha.  Silly little girl.

After working at Loren’s house for close to 12 hours, I threw in the towel and came home.  My VeryFitPro watch reported that I’d done 14,665 steps that day – but that’s partly because I had it on during the previous sleepless night while I tossed and turned; and also because I was working on Loren’s closet most of the day, and the tracker thinks all that folding and putting clothes in bags and boxes and bins is walking.  My back and hips and knees believed the tracker, and thought I’d walked lots of steps.  😏

Saturday, we went to visit Loren for the first time since moving him into the nursing home.  

We took a couple of framed collages of our family and put them on his dresser.  I spotted a nail on his wall, so I’ll take something to hang on it next time.  We’ll also take a couple of drawered nightstands for him, and maybe a nice chair, to make the room seem more homey.  Larry helped him shave; he hadn’t known where his razor was.  It was in the top drawer of his dresser, and the drawer blends in with the trim and doesn’t have a handle, and he didn’t know it was there.  He’ll probably not know again, when he needs the razor. 

Loren told us when we got there that he’d been trying for days to get out, but all the doors are locked.  Furthermore, he said, he was finally able to get out, and then he couldn’t get back in!  (I don’t think that last part happened at all... unless maybe he snuck into the lobby when someone was coming in?  I really doubt it; they have everything quite secure.) 

A couple of days ago, he marched purposefully to the nurses’ station, informed them that he’d forgotten his keys at the front desk, and he needed them, because he was ready to go.  They really ought to have pretty gold cardboard keys ready to hand out on those occasions.  😅

The puddle that had been in Loren’s closet from his previous roommate mistaking it for a restroom was all cleaned up – but the room still smelled bad.  I tracked it down to the heater in the room.  The filter in it is probably drenched.  The heat was set at 72°, and not only was it too hot in the room, but this was making the smell worse than ever.  (So much for being glad Loren would no longer be able to play with the thermostat!)  (Well, I really don’t know if he set it that high, or if a nurse did it.)  I saw that there was a softer blanket on the bed, and a sheet atop the bedspread.  I’ll bet he was cold. 

He was wearing the maroon cashmere sweater I’d found at the bottom of one of his drawers.  It looks like new.  Or at least it did until Larry helped him shave, and got whiskers all over it.

“That razor will speed up a little if it’s plugged in,” said Larry, and came to get the cord. 

Loren tried to put the wrong end into the razor.  That didn’t work, so Larry helped him get the right end into it.  Loren turned it on. 

“Sure enough!” he said happily. 

(But it was not yet plugged into the wall.) 

The wife and daughter of the man who is now sharing a room with Loren (we didn’t meet him yet) arrived as we were heading out of the room, bearing a large air purifier they’d purchased at Nebraska Furniture Mart.  I was on my way to the nurse’s station to tell them I’d found the source of the odor in the room, and then we were going to leave.

I wondered what to do if Loren expected to go with us, but as we were walking out of his room, he kept getting sidetracked.  He found the box for the purifier out in the hallway, and paid me no attention whatsoever when I explained what it was, and that he could leave it there.  Instead, he carried it into the room to give the women who were setting up the air purifier. 

When he went back into his room for the third time, I said to Larry, “Run for it!” and we vamoosed.  All the way down the hallway, I kept glancing back, but Loren never emerged from the room.

I wonder if he even noticed that we vanished?  Would he think, Huh, I should’ve followed when they said follow!  Who knows.  All I know is, we got out without trauma or drama.

On our way to the park where we planned to meet Joseph, Justin, and Juliana, we stopped at a Wal-Mart.  Being used to our Wal-Mart out here in the sticks, we discovered ourselves the only ones in the entire store (and it was quite full of people) without masks on.  Nobody complained or even glared at us; we look so naïve and innocent, you know, smiling sweetly at everyone we meet, they couldn’t possibly fuss at us, I guess.  We got Loren a corded razor, one that doesn’t have to be charged.  It’s smaller, more fine-toothed, and can trim his beard better if he forgets to shave.  We’ll take it to him next time we see him.

Then on we went to the park.  Jocelyn didn’t come; she was sleeping, as she works nights, and had 12-hour shifts last week.

We gave them their Christmas presents (finally!), and gave Justin his birthday gifts.  He’ll be 10 years old tomorrow, February 8^th. 

It’s also Emma’s and Grant’s birthdays; they’ll be 16 and 9, respectively.

We ate supper with Joseph and the children at Panera Bread.  I ordered chicken broccoli soup and chicken apple salad – and was served enough food for the Russian Army.  The salad and a maple nut fritter I thought I needed for dessert wound up in take-out containers and would be Sunday night supper.

Joseph had his little Chihuahua with them.  His name is ‘Puppy’ – because in the beginning, they planned to offer him for adoption, so they didn’t name him, just called him ‘Puppy’ – and then Joseph realized the little dog was very attached to them, and they were very attached to him.  By then, the doggy thought his name was ‘Puppy’.  So ‘Puppy’ it’s been, ever since.  Puppy likes me, because I gave him a piece of chicken.  😃

I had brought a pair of brand-spankin’-new Carhartt coveralls from Loren’s house, tags still on; and a pair of flannel-lined Wrangler jeans, both in Joseph’s size.  Larry had also found a pair of soft, lined, elk-skin riding gloves.  Those fit Joseph perfectly, too.

After bidding Joseph & Co. adieu, we went to Cabela’s and put forth serious effort at spending the rest of our gift cards from the kids.  We almost got it done, too.  Among other things, I bought a cute set of camouflage clothes (sweatpants, onesie, bib, and fleece blanket) for Baby Oliver.

Larry tried out the shooting range.  When targets are hit, things become animated.  Rabbits fall over... the ‘man’ sleeping in the tent kicks a foot... the tin can pings and tips over – and then Larry hit something (the water jug?) that caused me to get squirted smack-dab in the face!  It would’ve gone right into my eyes, had I not had glasses on. 

Larry, predictably, thought it was totally hilarious.  (Yeah, I laughed, too.)

After church yesterday morning, we ate lunch with Kurt, Victoria, Carolyn, and Violet.  Victoria fixed baked chicken breasts and roasted carrots, and we took along a big jar of peach halves we got at Cabela’s Saturday.  Victoria brewed Twinings tea and served it in her antique teapot.  She is fond of teapots – and did not know that my mother really liked them, too.

Their new baby will be arriving any day now.

Here’s a picture we found amongst Loren’s things:  it’s John H., my late brother-in-law, when he was a teenager, sometime in the mid-50s.  Lura Kay was happy to get the photo.

Hester sent some pictures of Baby Oliver today.  “Keira's very ready for us to come home,” she wrote.  “Four days is a long time for a three-year-old!  I’m getting discharged later today.  Oliver is doing really good; we’re hoping he’ll be able to come home in a couple of days at the most.”

“That’s good,” I replied.  “Everything will soon be back to normal, whatever that is! 😄”

“All of us under one roof will be so nice!” Hester agreed.

We found Norma’s HP laptop in one of Loren’s offices.  Problem:  it was password protected and fingerprint protected.  So... last night I restored it to its factory settings.  It’s a nice computer, though only a Windows 7.  

We went to Loren’s house after church last night to put out all the garbage, since the trashmen come on Monday mornings.  There was a whole lot of trash for them to pick up.  Teddy was with Loren two weeks ago when the garbagemen came and collected all the trash we had accumulated during that first week of cleaning, when Loren had been in the nursing home here in town.  Loren was watching out the window when the truck came, and he stared in astonishment at all the trashcans they were emptying and the bags they were throwing into the truck.

“I didn’t know I had so much garbage!” he exclaimed, moving closer to the window, the better to see what was happening out there.  😅  It’s a wonder he didn’t correlate the lack of knickknacks and wall decorations with all the trash out there.  (No, no, we didn't throw out knickknacks and wall decorations.  If nobody wanted them, we took them to the Salvation Army or the Goodwill.)

We also filled the entire back of the BMW (the middle seats are lying down, so the whole back can be used for cargo) with bags for the Goodwill, and a couple of bins and boxes of things we’ll keep.  One big box is full of clothes Loren may need later.  We’ll take him the bright red heavy metal miniature biplane that was on his mantel next time we see him, along with a couple of the bright wool blankets he and Janice got in Mexico.  He loves those scratchy things.  I found over a dozen of them at his house.  They gave us a couple many years ago, after a trip to Mexico.  

I’ve put the Chrome browser on Norma’s laptop (which will now be Larry’s), and tried installing the Avira antivirus.  That failed, because it’s not compatible with Windows 7.  So I am now downloading Windows 10.  It’s a little over 50% done.  I don’t think the computer has the oomph to run Windows 11.  I put Adblock Plus on it, too.  Next, I loaded several thousand of our mountain vacation pictures, and set the screensaver to draw from them.  Larry was pleased when he came in and saw the pictures playing. 😊

Speaking of screensavers, I just saw a picture of the Rio Grande headwaters in Colorado, and was reminded of the time we were at the headwaters of the Missouri, somewhere near Bismarck, North Dakota.  It was 1995, and we were on our way to Canada.  Noticing a huge bread store and bakery, we stopped and went in, and let the children pick whatever they wanted from the vast selection displayed in glass cases in the very large room.  Then we took the pastries and bagels and muffins out to a big picnic area at the side of the building and ate our snacks with tall glasses of milk before proceeding on northward.  The older children still remember that, and thought it was great fun going in that store.

I’ve put the New York Beauty quilt into a box for shipment to Paducah tomorrow.  It will then be transported to Branson for the AQS quilt show.  That always looks like a redundancy to me – ‘AQS quilt show’.  But the AQS stands for American Quilting Society.

The quilt shouldn’t fall out of the box anytime soon.  However, if anybody else tapes up their boxes like I do, we should have purchased stock in the Scotch Company way back when.

I’d better hit the hay!  I plan to get up early, take the New York Beauty quilt to the post office, drop off a gazillion bags at the Goodwill, and go back to Loren’s house to continue the cleaning and clearing out.  There’s a lot left to do.

We’ve sold Loren’s Buick Lucerne, the Jeep Wrangler, a flatbed trailer, and a mower.  The proceeds will all go toward his care.  Nursing homes aren’t cheap.

All this cleaning makes me want to start emptying my house!  We don't need so much stuff.  😏

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