Journal: Plug-It-In Henry

 

Last Tuesday, I cleaned the kitchen, started some laundry, watered the houseplants, swept the floor, and then ordered 12 nifty LED flashlights and 100 AAA batteries for the grandsons who needed more Christmas presents.  When those little flashlights arrived a couple of days later, I discovered they were even more nifty than I’d thought.

Next, I paid a few bills, and then, getting the notice that my grocery order was ready for pickup, off I went to town.

On the way to Wal-Mart, I took Loren’s watches to the jeweler to have a battery put in the old one and links removed from the band of the new one.  They promised to have them done before Saturday.  Then on I went to Wal-Mart to pick up the groceries.  Lots of groceries.

There were more than a dozen cars waiting, more than I’ve ever seen there before.  I waited... and waited... and waited... and finally got my groceries – all $479 worth of them. 

“Sorry for the wait,” the young lady apologized as she came to my car.  “We lost our dispenser!”

Huh?  They all needed a drink of Dr. Pepper, and couldn’t find the vending machine?

They all needed to dry their hands, but someone had stolen the paper towel holder?

Or did they lose an actual person who was supposed to dole out the goods??

I opened my mouth to ask her what she was talking about, thought of all those waiting cars, and instead smiled and said, “I’ll open the back hatch for you.”

But I’m still wondering what sort of a ‘dispenser’ they lost.  I hunted around online, and have yet to decide if they lost a person or a machine.

I should’ve gotten out of my vehicle and helped her, though, in order to speed things up.  I didn’t, because one knee was making complaints about this and that.  Still, I could’ve helped.

It took seven trips from vehicle to house to get all the groceries inside, once I got home.  Then it took a while to put them all away.  I started another load of clothes, and folded the load that was dry.  By then, my knee was complaining quite loudly.  Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t help the young woman put the groceries in the Mercedes.

I consoled my knee (and the rest of me) with half a dozen big red strawberries.  Mmmm... they were perfect. 

Most of these scenic pictures were taken December 9^th, as I was traveling to Omaha.  I posted some photos online when I got home, and the ‘Bah Humbug’ lady promptly informed me, “Dark skies would worry me.”

“It was a unique and beautiful sky,” I tried to assure her, “with blue overhead and thin, fluffy white clouds; and on the eastern horizon was a bank of dark cadet blue clouds with a few pale gray thunderclouds in front of them.  Made me think of heading up into mountain foothills.  With the sun low in the west and shining brightly on trees and buildings in front of that dark cloud bank, it was a beautiful scene.”

“not if snow is in the forecast ...don’t forget it’s winter time” she responded.

Yeah, bah, humbug, lady.  I had my gloves on.  And shoes, as opposed to sandals.  So ha.

(I didn’t say that.)

She added, “Be safe not sorry.  I always check the weather forecast before I go anywhere in the winter.”

I really wanted to respond, “Not me.  I prefer to drive full-force into oncoming blizzards.”

But I didn’t.

I’m so nice.

(Aren’t I?)

She was probably just trying to be motherly.

Larry wasn’t home yet; he was working late.  The strawberries had made a good appetizer, but I was hungry.  So I ate some broccoli salad and part of a porkchop for supper, and washed it down with Chobani Mango Greek yogurt drink.  It had taken two hours to go to the jewelry store and to Wal-Mart, and then lug everything into the house and get it all put away.

With the kitchen set to rights again and another load of clothes in the washing machine, I finally limped up the stairs to make a label for Elsie’s quilt.

I picked out the embroidery thread, attached the embroidery module, and input the words into the embroidery program.  One of these days, I need to learn how better to use this lovely Bernina Artista 730.  I’m only skimming along at the tip of the iceberg!  It can do so much more.

Before long, I was threading my machine and pressing the ‘Start’ button. 

Soon the label was complete, and I was sewing it to the back of Elsie’s quilt.

Wednesday, for the umpteenth time, I got a notification that packages had arrived via FedEx – but there were no packages to be seen anywhere near the front door.  I stuck my feet into some flip-flops and went shivering out into the cold to search for the packages.

There they were, tossed helter-skelter near the walk-in garage door, one in the dirt, and both of them damp.  It’s sooo aggravating; seems like the FedEx man works hard to find obscure places to throw our packages.  I printed a sign, encased it in plastic and went back out to tape it to the garage door:

 

DO NOT LEAVE PACKAGES HERE!  IF WE DO NOT FIND THEM RIGHT AWAY, RACCOONS GET THEM.   🦝🦝🦝🦝🦝🦝🦝🦝🦝  THE FRONT PORCH IS ONLY A FEW STEPS TO THE EAST!!!        ß ß ß

The packages were actually displaced, and there were actually raccoons out there earlier.

At least we have now established that FedEx drivers can read, as no more boxes have been tossed at that garage door, but have actually found their way to the very edge of the front porch.

That day, I gathered up coffee and computer and headed downstairs to my gift-wrapping room.  Before doing anything else, I stacked up the ten quilts I’ll be giving Kurt and Victoria and the nine youngest grandchildren.  I’ve never had this many quilts in the house all at one time!  😄

Reckon I can get twice that many done next year?  Those quilts represent about 5 ½ months of work.

Hester sent a group text to the family:  “☃️ Would Tuesday the 26^th or Friday the 29^th work for our family Christmas party?”

I reached for my keyboard, planning to respond, “We’ll come both days!” – but Larry beat me to it, writing, “I will take both days.  😁”

“Daddy and I have been married too long,” I wrote instead.  “I was just getting ready to say that!”

I was just ready to start wrapping gifts when a quilting friend wrote to tell me, “One butterfly in the photo is missing its body.”

I took a look.

😯

Can you spot it?  It’s the third butterfly from the left.

I answered her, “Yikes, you’re right, you’re right!  I’ll fix that.  Thank you so much for telling me!  You know what else I kept doing?  I kept quilting the cat faces along the border – and leaving out the outline of the face!  It was a Cheshire Cat of Alice in Wonderland moment, time and again.  haha”

So before doing anything else, I trotted upstairs with that quilt and added in the missing stitches.  It didn’t take long; I just used my Bernina after threading it with the right thread.

Larry didn’t get home from work in time to come to church with me, and I had a few groceries to pick up afterwards.  You’d think I’d have been all set, after that humongous order the previous day; but nooooo, I’d forgotten two key things:  bread and light bulbs.

That didn’t give me enough to warrant free pickup, so I got four more items, enough to put the order over $35, when free pickup kicks in.

Oh, now you want to know what those four more items were? 

Well, being a frugal, sensible person, of course I ordered oatmeal and cranberry juice.

Ahem.

Actually, being a hungry person when I placed the order, I went all rogue and ordered Keebler Pecan Sandies, Pepperidge Farm Chesapeake Crispy Dark Chocolate Pecan Cookies, Pepperidge Farm Farmhouse Thin & Crispy Butter Pecan Cookies, and Lindt Lindor Holiday Snickerdoodle White Chocolate Candy Truffles.

Wow.  That’s not at all my usual mode.

I must’ve been a dessert-deprived person when I placed that order!

After church, Hannah and I were visiting.  Over on the other side of the front vestibule, several grandchildren sat side by side on one of the pews along the wall, drawing and chatting. 

Grandmas like to see their grandchildren enjoying each other.  “Why don’t I have a camera?!” I lamented, and Bobby handed Hannah his phone so she could get some pictures. 

She sent them to me later, along with some she took of Carolyn, Joanna, and Violet at Victoria’s house a couple of days ago.

I picked up my order from Wal-Mart and headed home.

Now, if I keep that junk-food stuff hidden away where Larry rarely looks, we can make it last a while, yesirree.  ((...munch munch munch munch...))  (Or not.)

Larry, not realizing that I’d just squandered his hard-earned money on truffles that I planned to hide from him, fixed ham and easy-over eggs on waffles for supper after I got home, and we warmed up Panera Bread squash soup to go with it.  That’s the first time we’ve tried that flavor of Panera Bread soup.  We liked it.

Ooookay.  He fixed me supper.  I can give him some truffles. 

Or at least a truffle.  One’s enough, don’t you think?

Oh, okay, okay.  I’ll give him...  two.  Two will do.

Thursday, I filled the bird feeders and tidied the house a bit.  A box of coffee beans arrived from Christopher Bean.  Just listen to these holiday flavors:  Caramel Walnut Shortbread (“the taste of freshly baked shortbread topped with delectable walnuts and a generous drizzling of oh-so-good golden caramel”), Frosty’s Favorite (“Cinnamon graham crackers kissed with sweet cream and toasty nuts, and no mistletoe required”), Christmas Cupcake (“delightfully sweet blend of well-balanced Arabica coffee, creamy white chocolate, and notes of fresh raspberry to keep things bright and interesting”), Gingerbread Crème Brûlée (“sweet, creamy, and mildly spicy”), Holiday Cheer (“chocolate, Irish Crème, and hazelnut”), and Holiday Maple Crunch (“flavors of maple, butter, and caramel”).  

As I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, I love flavored coffees and teas.  ☕🍵😋  Do you like them, too?  Or do you prefer black (or green)?

I have a few friends who think I’m nuts for liking flavored coffee – but then some of them pour flavored creamers into their coffee and even their tea, haha.

I got a box of Christmas presents ready to send to son and daughter-in-law Keith and Korrine and Korrine’s two daughters, who live near Salt Lake City.  Next, I started packing a box of presents for son-in-law and daughter Todd and Dorcas and their two children, who live near Blaine, Tennessee.  I planned to mail them that afternoon, and drop off at the Goodwill a bunch of shirts and sweaters Larry no longer wanted.  

Plans soon changed.  After hunting and hunting (and hunting) for Trevor’s pajama set (there were a lot of pajama sets cavorting around my gift-wrapping room!), it finally occurred to me to look at my Wal-Mart purchase history.  And there I learned that Trevor’s pj set was not due to arrive until the 17^th.

I don’t make two trips to town if I can instead make just one; so I would wait to mail Keith & Family’s box until I could also mail Dorcas & Family’s box.

I spent the day wrapping, wrapping, wrapping, one box after another.  Gift bags are easier, and I do have some; but I decided to box and wrap as many as possible, in order to use up my supply of aging wrapping paper.  Besides, a humongous pile of boxes stacks better than a humongous pile of gift bags.

As I removed price tags from clothes, I felt smugly frugal, bordering on parsimonious, because I got $30-$35 pajama sets for a number of the boys – for only $10 per set.

The twelve LED tactical flashlights and batteries arrived that day.  I put batteries in the lights – three AAA batteries in each flashlight.  That took a while.  These little flashlights have numerous settings:  beam, slow blink, and SOS blink; and each of those modes can be zoomed in or out, making a wider or more pinpointed beam.  They’re very, very bright.  I’m pleased, as I only spent $5 on each light, and then $23 for a pack of 100 batteries (that’s 23¢ per battery).  So each light cost $5.69.  I gave each boy three spare batteries.

I found the Avon cologne I was saving for Ethan after I decided it was lost and cut open the package of two Axe body sprays I was going to give Aaron, and only wrapped one spray in Aaron’s box.  Isn’t that always the way??

Needing something more for Joanna, as all I had was a blue knit sweater, I looked in a box of things from Loren’s house, things Janice had once been saving for gifts.  I’ve just about used all those things up; but I was happy to find an ecru table runner with pinecones and berries embroidered on each end and along the sides.  

In the box, I also found a white linen centerpiece with pink roses embroidered on it; I wrapped that for Emma with her soft pink sweater.

I have a ten-volume set of Bible Story books for Justin and Juliana.  I’m disappointed that the covers are not these pretty blue ones with pictures; they instead have brown leather-like covers.  But the insides are the same.  I’ve been wanting to give this set to them for a while, but the camper they lived in was not too awfully big.  Now they have a brand-new, spacious fifth-wheel camper.  So they get Bible Story books, along with pjs and a tactical flashlight for Justin, and a set of two nightgowns and a Lilla Rose hair clip for Juliana.

I quit with the present-wrapping at midnight.  Not quite in time! – my feet were cramping!  AiiiiyiiiyiiieeeeYOWCH.  (Should be a word, and would be a word, had Noah Webster had foot cramps like these.)

All the grandchildren’s pajamas or nightgowns were wrapped, except for a couple that hadn’t come yet.  The two little boys’ quilts, one with a pillow and one with a fabric book, were wrapped. 

Isn’t it funny how we had a grandson... a granddaughter... a grandson... a granddaughter... and then ten (10!) grandsons before having a granddaughter... three more grandsons... and then, surprise! – 7 granddaughters, followed by 2 grandsons!

It rained most of the day Friday.  However, Trevor’s pajamas arrived, two days ahead of schedule; so I wrapped them, packed all the family’s gifts into a bigger box, and put on an address label.

After I got everything in the box and taped it thoroughly (and I do mean thoroughly; Larry thinks he should invest in the Scotch company), I realized I’d forgotten to tuck in the Christmas card.  If you knew how many times I do this...

So I wrote their address on the envelope and added our address sticker.  I would just put it in the U.S. mail.

I grabbed an umbrella and headed out.  It took two trips to the car, because the boxes (one for Keith’s family and one for Dorcas’ family) were big and a bit heavy.  Did you know it’s hard to wield an umbrella and a big box, both at the same time?

Before going to The UPS Store, I picked up Loren’s watches – the old one that had a battery replaced, and the new one that had the links removed from the band.  It cost $42!!  😮  Good grief.

The battery alone cost $16.05!  Was that thing made of palladium??  The rest was for ‘labor’.  That’s too much.  I’ll certainly try a different jewelry store, if I ever need a battery replaced again.  We didn’t have the tools to do it ourselves, or we would’ve.  We’ve been able to replace batteries and remove wristband links on some watches, but not others.

On I went to The UPS Store to ship off the boxes.

It’s almost always cheaper to ship things through the USPS, but The UPS Store is much easier to access.  The door is right on the sidewalk with no switchback ramp, and there’s no inner office with another heavy door.  Also, it’s only half a block from the jewelry store.

I had to make two trips into store, as I couldn’t handle both those big boxes at once.  There were dozens of people in the store.  Well, at least eight.  (Not eight dozen, heh.)  I put the first box in the corner and went back out for the second box.  People stared at the box in the corner, then looked at me.  What, did they think I was going to detonate it?!

It was still raining, and I’d had to park some distance from the door; but at least there was an awning along the front of the little mall.  By the time I got back into the store, another few dozen (well, maybe only four or five) (four or five people, not four or five dozen) had come in and were now in front of me.

I found a place to stand where I could put one box on the floor and rest the other on a table.  A woman who with her teenage daughter had come in while I’d gone back out kept looking at me, wondering if I was going to cut in line.  

I wasn’t.  You should’ve seen how friendly she got when the clerk gestured at me, and I in turn gestured at the woman and daughter and said, “You were first!”

That made a man who was also in front of me tell me directly, “Now it’s your turn!” – even though it really wasn’t.  🙂

The young woman who was weighing and measuring my boxes asked what was in each one.  When I said, regarding the one going to Dorcas’ family, “A quilt,” she beamed at me and remarked, “I live for the day someone ships me a quilt in the mail!”

Leaving The UPS Store, I drove to the post office to drop off the card.

The postal drop-off box is in an alley beside the post office.  As I pulled up to the mailbox, the Mercedes’ parking assist/blind-spot indicator beeped with alarm at my proximity to the box, and lights blinked on the left side of the dash. 

I no sooner exited the alley than a notice popped up on the dash informing me that the blind-spot indicator had quit working.  And then, at the next corner, I realized that my turn signals had quit working, too!

I drove home signalless.  

Halfway home, it occurred to me:  I forgot to put a stamp on that envelope.

Well, that card will soon be showing up in my mailbox again.  Gone are the days when they go ahead and mail stuff, and ask the recipient to pay for it.

Home again, I opened the car door, stuck the umbrella out, slid it up – and it would no longer catch and stay open.  Now, that’s just adding insult to injury.

But it was dark out; nobody could see me.  So I stuck my neatly coiffed head into the collapsed umbrella and sashayed gracefully into the house.  😵‍💫🤓😵‍💫🥴🤪

Soon I was back in my gift-wrapping room, wrapping away. 

Pausing, I counted the wrapped quilts.  Then I counted the unwrapped ones, and added the totals.  Something was wrong.  One was missing!  I counted them three more times before it dawned on me where the missing quilt was.  I had just shipped it off at The UPS Store, and it was now on its way to our little granddaughter, Brooklyn.  Good grief, I’m going senile! 

Maybe I needed to stop and eat supper.

That evening, Larry took the Mercedes to Walkers’ shop to fix the ‘blind-spot assist’ and the turn signals that had quit working, and also the windshield sprayer that never has worked.

He had to tip a seat forward to find the fuses.  None were burnt out, but a whole lot of them were loose and not seated well in their respective slots.  He snugged them all down where they belonged, and ... Abracadabra! – everything worked again.

Things do work better when they are plugged in.

This reminds me of the time, back when we’d only been using computers for a couple of years...  Well, here.  I’ll just insert an excerpt from my journal of May 7, 2001:

 

Monday, my new CD writer arrived.  The next evening, Teddy decided to install my new hard drive and the CD writer for me – and totally demolished my computer, or so I thought.  It wouldn’t even boot up. 

I came back into the living room and found Teddy staring perplexedly at a black screen that read “Cannot find device with which to run programming”, or something on that order. 

I said, “I think you forgot a major plug-in, that’s all.”

He assured me (probably feeling a wee bit scornful over his mother’s stupidity) that he had indeed plugged everything in properly.  After several more failed attempts at starting the computer, he informed me that it was 10:30, and he had to go to bed, because he had to get up early.  (That’s a real aberration for him; he usually stays up diddling around with this and that until his mother threatens to box his ears if he doesn’t go to bed right now.)  (I would have to stand on my tiptoes to do it, but I’d do it.)  (So he grins at me, bids me a fond goodnight, and makes his way down the stairs, dragging a string or something behind him in order to make the cats chase him down the steps.)

At the noise of my continuous howling, Larry finally extricated himself from his recliner and stumbled his way to my desk to see what could possibly be the trouble.  He nodded over the instructions for the CD writer for a while, pulled drives out of the tower and put them back in, restarted the computer half a dozen times – and came up with the same black screen with the same ominous information on it that Teddy had gotten.

“I think a cord isn’t plugged into the right thing,” I said.

“They’re all plugged in,” he said.

“But perhaps not into the right thing,” I insisted.

He made a few unintelligible growly noises and went back to sleeping over the instructions.  I began using the other computer.

I was sure I hadn’t the faintest notion what to do with the poor thing, other than to put it out of its misery.  (Speaking of the computer, you know.)  (I think.)  ;~)

Two hours later, during a fit of momentary wakefulness, Larry discovered that the main cord – that wide, flat, seatbeltish-looking thing – was not plugged into the main hard drive.  Rather, it was wadded and rumpled underneath the tower.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

hee hee hee hee hee hee hee

HAHAHAHAHAHA

(I thought it was funny)

He plugged it in.  The computer came on. 

(Can openers work better when you plug them in, too.  I’ve checked.)

“Now,” I said happily, “as soon as the additional hard drive is running, I will have 30 GBs!!!”

“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat nervously and looked longingly in the direction of his recliner, “I’m too tired to do it now; I have to shower and go to bed, because I have to get up early.”

Hadn’t I just heard that line from someone else?

“That’s okay,” I assured him.  “I can do it myself.” 

After all, I was nearly positive he could not.  But by the same token, I was not at all sure I could.

But the next day…yes, I DID it!  All by myself, I DID IT!!!

Well... uh... that is... with the telephone tucked against my ear, I did it.

But I did do it.

The company had sent no instructions with the hard drive, probably hoping that people would have to go to their computer shop and keep their repairman in business.  They don’t even tell you what brand of gizmo it is, or its serial number, or anything, the horrible rip-off agents.  I called our local Connecting Point, and, wonder of wonders, the computer technician who answered the phone knew exactly what to do.  He led me (at an extraordinarily fast clip) through the installation steps.  I used MS-DOS Prompt and typed in all sorts of hieroglyphics… and before I knew it, whiz bing blooey, my new hard drive was up and running, and there I was then, with 20 more gigabytes, making a total of 30 GBs!!! 

Do not ask me how I did it; I do not know.

I promptly saved several folders full of information onto the drive, just to prove I could.  You can give your hard drives labels...  soooo...  I entitled mine, “InLikeFlynn.”

I installed the CD writer, too (at least it had instructions); it is now ready to use.  I shall not again be caught with a crashed computer and no backup files!

Larry now has a new name:  Plug-It-In Henry.

 

Yeah, those were the days.  Days when one got all agog over 30 gigabytes.  Nowadays, I have an 8 terabyte external hard drive – that’s 8,000 gigabytes!  And it’s no strain on the ol’ brain cells to hook it up, either.  You just plug the USB cord in, and there you are, then, ready to boogie.  Uh, that is, ready to, uh... back up your files.

My nephew Robert’s wife Margaret has been working long and hard on an updated spiral-bound directory for our church.  They pass them out to each of the families at Christmastime, approximately every other year.

She just barely got it printed when she acquired a new great-nephew (meaning I have acquired a new great-great-nephew).  He wasn’t any lightweight, either.  He weighed 10 lbs., 8 oz.!

“The new directory is now out of date,” remarked one of my friends.  😄

It’s soon going to be a lot more out-of-date than that, because there are a number of new babies on the way, including my own two grandbabies-to-be!

I boxed the third-to-the-last gift – and ran out of wrapping paper.  Thinking I’d have to resort to gift bags, I rummaged through a big box under the marble table to see if there were any extra-large bags in there, hoping I wouldn’t have to go back into the storage room under the porch.  There’s a very large bin full of all sizes of gift bags in there, but that small room badly needs to be vacuumed, and it’s cold in there.  I was glad when I discovered several big rolls of really nice, heavy-duty wrapping paper.  So every present except the last three are wrapped in somewhat flimsy paper – but the last three are wrapped in high-quality, pretty paper. 

I also found a small box of bows that came from Loren’s house back when we cleaned it out, so I went around taping them on a few presents.  I hope no one is offended because ze uzzer guy got a bow and he (or she) didn’t.  Here’s a fact:  Once you put bows on boxes, they no longer stack neatly (at least, not without squishing the bows, they don’t).  If possible, I always put a bow on Bobby’s gift, since he once said that men’s gifts shouldn’t have bows; only girls’ gifts should.  >>snerk<<

By 1:00 a.m. that night, all the presents except Ethan’s were wrapped, because his first pajama pants order was canceled, as they’d run out.  Uh, that is, the store had run out of those pjs.  The pjs had not run out of the store on their own steam. 

Those particular pajama pants were selling at a smashing bargain, two pairs to a package.  At least Aaron’s came!  I hunted for more like them, but there were none.  I finally found a pair in Ethan’s size and placed the order.  The arrival date was tomorrow – but they came this morning. 

I cleaned up the gift-wrapping room, except for the big marble table.  I’ll clean that off as soon as I get Ethan’s gift wrapped.  The extra boxes are all gathered up and stacked, ready to be discarded, except for one big one we might need. 

You know what the problem is with having a gift-wrapping room in the basement?  Two problems, really.  1)  I have to carry all the gifts downstairs to be wrapped, and 2) I have to carry all the wrapped gifts back upstairs.

Ah, well.  Exercise is good.  And studies have proven that people who live in houses with staircases live longer than people who live in houses that don’t have stairs.

I’ll let you know how much longer I think I’ll live as soon as various parts of me quit complaining about all the upstairsin’ and downstairsin’ I’ve done lately.

I’ve hauled just a few gifts up to the living room, but there are lots more I need to bring upstairs.  Larry carried up the heavy box with the ten-volume Bible Story books.

Saturday, a friend was telling about making jam with her daughter.  They had an enjoyable time – and wound up with a whole lot of jars of scrumptious jam.

I can attest, home-canned jams are sooo much better than store-bought.  We used to go out along the Loup River and canal and pick all sorts of fruits growing wild along the edges.  There were raspberries, mulberries, blackberries, crabapples, chokecherries, ... but by far the most plentiful was the wild plum, also known as river plum or sand cherry.  I made a lot of jams, jellies, pie fillings, and suchlike.

We had fun picking the fruit.  When I was first married, I’d invite some also-newly-married friends of mine to come with me to pick fruit, and then we’d make jam together.  After the children came along, I’d take them, and they’d ‘help’ (after a fashion, heh).

I told them, “Eat what you want of the raspberries, mulberries, and blackberries; just try to fill your buckets faster than you’re eating them!”  😄  They, uh... tried.  Sorta.

I also told them, “Don’t eat the chokecherries, the little seeds in them can make you really sick.”  (Elderberries are the same; we found some of them once.)  “And the crabapples are too sour.”  But those chokecherries and crabapples sure did put a yummy zing in the jelly!

The children obediently left the chokecherries alone – but I saw Teddy, about 7 or 8, take a bite of a crabapple.  Then his eyes got big (and he was the kid with the big eyes already), and he scurried behind a bush to spit and make faces in private.  🤣

Victoria recently gave us a jar of her peach jam.  Mmmm, it’s sooo good.

That afternoon, I went to visit Loren.  It was cold and windy – 38°, but the windchill was 21°.  It was a cloudy, dreary day, too.  I don’t mind that, because it’s easy on my eyes; but it sure doesn’t make for very good photography!  

As I drove east of Arlington, a bald eagle landed right beside the road.  Judging from the scuffle that ensued and ended quickly, I’d say the eagle captured whatever he’d dived upon.  

Northwest of Omaha, I took a different road than I usually take, and discovered a few new homes that had been built since the last time I drove that route.  Most of the shots I took were blurry, as it was just too dark for good pictures. 

When I got to Prairie Meadows, I could see Loren on the other side of the nurses’ station from the front lobby window, where the receptionist’s desk sits.  He was talking to a nurse, and I saw him nod and say with a smile, “Sure!  I can do that!” – or at least that’s what I think he said.  He was too far away for me to be certain.

I pressed in the code to open the locked door into the commons area.  Loren was already pushing a woman in her wheelchair down the hall to her room, and he did not see me.

Once in her room, he positioned the chair carefully, asking, “Is that all right?”

“Yes,” she said.  “Thank you.”

Loren then stepped back, and I said, “Hi!”

He turned and looked at me, surprised and grinning.

We walked back down that hall and on to his room, with Loren telling me three or four times, “I was just shocked when I saw it was you!  I didn’t expect you to be here!”

He was walking easier that day than he has been for the last month or two.  The last couple of times I visited, I took his hand as we walked, because I was so afraid he would fall.

I gave him a couple of National Geographic magazines, the Messenger newspaper, and our Christmas card/photo.  I handed him the envelope first, saying, “Here’s your Christmas card!”

He started opening it, and pulled the picture out just far enough to see Larry, but not me.

He exclaimed over what a good picture of Larry it was, asked how he was doing, said again what a good picture it was – and prepared to slide the card back into the envelope.

“Pull it the rest of the way out,” I recommended.

He did so – and then laughed and started all over again, exclaiming over my picture.

Eventually, and with some difficulty, he put the photo card back into the envelope and laid it beside him on the bed.  He glanced through a National Geographic magazine, then spotted the envelope next to him with his name written on it.

“What’s this?” he asked, picking it up.

“It’s your Christmas card,” I told him.

He started sliding the photo out, pausing as soon as he could see Larry, and again exclaimed over it.  “He’s a very nice-looking man!” he said.  “How’s Larry doing?”

“He’s doing fine,” I answered.  Loren started to put the card back into the envelope.

“Pull it the rest of the way out,” I said.

He gave me a quick look – I think something seemed familiar.  Déjà vu, all over again!

He pulled it out and started laughing.  “Oh, it’s you!” he exclaimed.

Directly, he put the card back into the envelope, set it aside, and began paging through a magazine.  He never gets far, as he gets stalled out on the same page, time and again.

He turned his head and spotted the envelope beside him.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s your Christmas card,” I said.

Again he glanced at me quickly.  Those words were ringing a faint bell.

Because I can see that, I often answer his repeated questions with the exact same words, every time.  And sometimes, it sticks, for a little while, at least.

Other times, that devilish imp that lives in the ventromedial prefrontal cortex part of my brain comes out to play, and I give answers that are polar opposites to each other, when Loren asks the same question over and over again.  Usually, it only takes about three times of that before he turns his head and gives me that old familiar piercing look.  I grin, and he laughs, realizing I’m kidding him. 

A few times, though not recently, he has retorted, “I think you’re pulling my leg!”

“I would never do such a thing!” I answered indignantly, the last time he said that.

“Oh, no, of course not,” said he in an exaggerated tone, sounding just like his old self.

Anyway, he opened the flap on the envelope and started pulling out the card, saying as he did so, “Who is it?”

This time, the card, evidently self-lubricating from its recent ins and outs, slid right out into Loren’s hand.

Quick as a wink, before he had time to say anything, I pointed at myself in the photo.  “It’s Jane Doe!”

He burst out laughing.  “I knew I was going to catch it from you, after I said that!” he exclaimed, once he could quit laughing.

I then took his watch from my purse and handed it to him.  “Here’s your watch!” I said.  “I had a new battery put in it.”

“Oh!” he said, happily taking it and looking at the time and date.  “I thought I’d lost it!”

“I was afraid of that,” I replied.  “I thought later I should’ve put a sticky note on your wrist,” – pointing at his wrist – “saying, ‘Sarah Lynn took my watch to put a new battery in it!’ so that every time you looked to see what time it was, you’d read that note!”

I looked for his other watch, and asked about it, but I didn’t find it, and he didn’t know where it was.  I’ll betcha the staff, thinking he would not have two watches, thought it was someone else’s.  I should’ve told them a long time ago that he had two.  A little late now, though.

I’ll give him the new watch in a Christmas gift bag next week.  I have written his name in permanent marker on the back of the watch, and put his initials inside the Z-clasp.

After a while, I told him it was time for dinner.  “I’ll walk with you to the dining room,” I added. 

He hesitated. 

“I don’t know if I should do that,” he said, looking concerned.  “I need to go see Mama; Albert’s there visiting.”

I’d heard him, but wondered if that was the name he meant to say.  Mama’s brother, our Uncle Albert, died in 2001.  So I asked, “Who?”

Loren looked a little agitated, reminding me of how things used to go when he still lived at home, and conversations were taking a downwards turn.  “Well, I thought it was Albert,” he explained, “but I’m not sure.  I know it was one of those boys.” 

Our Winings uncles, he meant.  They have all passed away.

The last time Uncle Albert visited our mother was in September of 1992, when Daddy died.  Mama died in 2003, two years after Uncle Albert died.

I said, “Hmmmm,” in my most intelligent tone.  Then, “Well, we need to go eat supper first; otherwise the dining room will be closed when you get back, and there won’t be anything left to eat!”

So he agreed, and we walked together out of his room and down the hall.  Just like many other times, he had no idea under the sun where the dining room was, or how to get there, or where he would sit once he got there.  So I walked in with him and pointed out a chair near a lady I know he often chats with.  He willingly sat down.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” I told him.

He smiled, nodded, gave me a wave, and gathered up his silverware to start eating the salad that was already at his place.

By the time I left the nursing home, it was dark.  It was so pretty, driving through the neighborhoods of northwestern Omaha, with Christmas lights twinkling everywhere I looked.

On the far east side of Columbus, near Behlen Manufacturing, I came upon an accident involving two cars, both with front-end damage.  Several police cars were on the scene.  I couldn’t tell exactly what had happened, but police officers were sure pulling a whole lot of jetsam and flotsam from the back seat of one of the cars.

A few blocks farther on, I stopped at Wal-Mart to get a birthday present for Jonathan, who turned ten yesterday.  I chose a small drone (his doesn’t have a camera, but I can’t find a picture like it on Wal-Mart’s website) and three pairs of stretch-knit gloves in black, red, and gray.

I got home about 7:00 p.m. 

Later, I found this picture of Loren on Prairie Meadows’ Facebook page; he’s playing a game of ‘What’s in the Box’.

I posted half a dozen dreary pictures from my drive, apologetically mentioning that it was really too dark for good photography. 

Mrs. Humbug, who simply cannot refrain from disputing about, oh, just anything, wrote, “Actually it does make good photography because you won’t have shadows or sun to ruin your shots.”

Rrrrrright.  Do dull, blurry pictures somehow look good to her? 

Maybe she was just trying to assure me that my lousy photos were fine and dandy.  😄

Early Sunday morning, I stepped out onto the back deck to fill the bird feeders – but the sun was just coming over the horizon!  The birds had to wait a minute or two while I dashed back in and grabbed my camera.

We gave Jonathan his gift after church.

Lydia told us that she was coming home from Omaha in their Tesla Saturday night with the younger three children, Jonathan, Ian, and Malinda, not quite an hour ahead of me.  When she was by Behlen Manufacturing heading west, she met a car traveling east in the westbound lanes!  She pulled toward the shoulder and laid on her horn (which automatically causes the dashcam to save footage).

The vehicle kept going – and crashed into an oncoming car not far behind her.

Her camera caught the car approaching, and the rearview camera caught it immediately after it went past; but it had stopped recording just before the crash.

Here’s a photo from News Channel Nebraska.

Oh, look!  Lydia’s dashcam video is there, too!  Wrong-Way Driver Causes Crash

Lydia was in the right lane.  She saw a crewcab pickup at a stop sign to the right preparing to turn right, so she started moving into the left lane to allow the pickup to enter the highway.

That was when she noticed the oncoming car in the left lane and quickly moved back onto the right side of the highway.

Thankfully, the pickup driver was paying attention.  That crewcab wouldn’t have been any more pleasant to run into than the oncoming Chevy Malibu!  You can see him start to go, then hit the brakes again when Lydia pulled back into the right lane.

The last Christmas gift just arrived – Ethan’s fleece pajama bottoms, black, with snowmen with red scarves all over them, to go with the fleece-lined red shirt I already have.  Once I wrap it, along with some Avon cologne, I’m all done with the Christmas gifts.

Tomorrow, I plan to work on Trevor’s ‘Nine Puppies’ quilt.  I cut a bunch of strips for the Log Cabin blocks Saturday evening, and got a few of them pieced.  The strips are narrow and somewhat odd sizes, so I’m paper-piecing it.  I like the precise look of paper-pieced things — but removing the paper, not so much, even though I use thin newsprint paper.  I wonder if anyone would notice if I just left the paper in the quilt? ... ... ... ... ((...pause...)) ... ... ... ...

Kidding, kidding!

We had lasagna for supper tonight, with pears and strawberries for dessert. 

I snuck a truffle.  

As always, that scrumptious, nasty li’l truffle made my stomach hurt.  One truffle, and I’ve got a stomachache!  That’s pathetic, and highly unfair.  Cruel and unusual punishment.

There’s nothing else for it, I guess.  I have to share them with Larry!

Accordingly, I placed the bag on the table.  He took a look, then a second look, surprised.  I very rarely buy such things.

He ate two.  Two!!!  I repeat, this is highly unfair.  He has to cut them in half in order to eat them; they’re too hard for him to bite through, on account of his dentures.  So... he cuts them and happily eats them.  Sigghhhhh...

Three more days, and the days will start getting longer again.  It is quite doubtful that we will have a white Christmas this year.

Bedtime!

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