Last Monday was a rainy day, and there was a tornado watch, to boot.
I started the laundry, cleaned the
kitchen, and then headed upstairs to continue working on the Whirling Star
blocks (I looked at EQ8 to see what that block was called; hadn’t noticed, ’til
then).
Larry came home for
lunch in the early afternoon. He was
still going without his bottom denture on account of that sore in his mouth, so
he was still eating soft foods. But we
were both on the mend.
By Tuesday
afternoon, I was almost done putting the half-quarter sections together for
each quilt block, and soon I would be laying them all out and deciding on color
arrangement. It’s always fun to get to
that stage. All
of this would turn into a quilt top!
I was glad that I
could finally talk without sounding like a bull frog, because I was getting a
lot of calls from Prairie Meadows and from the hospice care people concerning
Loren. They’ve all been so kind and caring.
From the way one of the
hospice nurses described Loren to me that afternoon, it sounded as though he
was better able to carry on a halfway decent conversation than he has for the
last two or three months. Perhaps he was
in too much pain to do much talking, and couldn’t really think how to tell
anyone? They had applied a transdermal fentanyl patch while
he was in the hospital, and that doubtless had a lot to do with why he seemed
so much better.
He told the hospice nurse
he was a Vet and had been in the Navy. He
wasn’t, but he says things like that so convincingly, people believe him, even when
they’ve had a lot of experience with people with dementia. It was our father who was in the Navy, not
Loren.
A cousin of Larry’s –
let’s call her ‘Mary’ – who is in a nursing home told of how one of the aides was
bringing her from the dining room back to her own room via wheelchair. She stopped in the doorway, said, “I’ll be
right back,” and off she went.
She did not return
for 15-20 minutes, leaving Mary stranded there in her wheelchair with no access
to her cellphone or the call button. She
cannot get out of the wheelchair on her own.
Even if there had’ve been an emergency (there was not), the aide should
at least roll persons in wheelchairs to locations where they are able to reach
call buttons or phones! This was not the
first time that had happened.
Fortunately, a
social worker came visiting the next day, and asked if there were any issues
that needed to be addressed; so Mary told her about the incident. The social worker promised to look into
it. “That should not have happened,” she
said.
“You need a big
silver whistle on a cord around your neck!” I told Mary. “Or learn to whistle like I did when I was about
11.”
I told her the
story:
I learned to whistle – loudly
enough to blow you off your chair – without using fingers, only my tongue, late
one night as I was lying in bed. My
parents were asleep.
I had noticed that by curling my
tongue and blowing, I could make a sort of hollow, almost-whistling sound, and
I thought, You know, if I could get my tongue curled exactly right,
and blow hard enough...
I curled my tongue just right,
took a giant breath big enough to expand my lungs a good three inches all
around — and let loose with all my might and main.
WHEEEETWHEW!
Mama and Daddy woke up.
The entire west side of Columbus
woke up.
I heard two pairs of bare feet
hitting the floor, PLOP-PLOP, PLOP-PLOP, and then they who always knocked on my
door before entering entered side by side without benefit of knocking first or
of even announcing themselves.
I mean, they barreled into that room.
Daddy: “What was THAT?!!!!!”
Me, meekly: “I was learning
to whistle.”
Daddy, taking a deep breath:
“You learned.”
Mama, sitting down limply on the
bed: “My goodness.” Then, “I thought...” She swallowed.
“I thought you were being kidnapped.”
The following year, we
went to Colorado, traveling in a new International Travelall, with which we
were pulling a 31-foot Airstream camper.
The International was geared too high, and it barely made it up to the new
Eisenhower tunnel, just completed in March of 1973. The silence was deafening as we crept along,
15 miles per hour, then 10, then even slower.
But we finally made
it.
The other side of
the mountain is even steeper, so Daddy didn’t want to continue, for fear he
wouldn’t be able to get back up again.
But how to turn around? That was
the question.
There was a tunnel
under the highway on the west side of the Eisenhower, one that the construction
crew had used. Daddy pulled onto the shoulder
of the Interstate, and we walked down the ramp and then under the highway to
see if we could make it through the construction tunnel with our camper without
getting into a bad situation. Daddy was
always a cautious trailerer … unlike my husband, who most generally tries
things before looking, hoping for the
best. The eternal optimist (or
calamitist, take your pick).
So there we were,
walking through the tunnel, a big, long, under-the-road tunnel, Daddy, my big
dog Sparkle, and I. Our hair had not yet
smoothed itself down completely after that scary will-we-make-it-or-will-we-not
drive up to the Eisenhower. Remember that.
Now tell me, what do
you like to do in tunnels?
You like to honk, of
course. Because it echoes so
satisfactorily, you know.
I didn’t have a
horn. But I did have a whistle.
So... I whistled.
Daddy ran in place
some several feet off the ground for a time, until gravity regained its grip on
him. Even as he came back earthward, he
was yelling, “S-ss-ss-arah Lynn-nn-nn-!!!”
Even I had been a wee bit amazed at the
loudness of that whistle. So, in my best
humble tone, I said, said I, “Huh?”
Good thing Daddy had
a sense of humor.
That whistle wound
up coming in handy through the years (though I did not again try it out at
night when my parents were sleeping, or in tunnels sans warning). I could call the dogs, the kids, and even the
cats from three counties away. ((...pause...)) I nevah, evah exaggerate.
When Hester was a
wee little tyke, about two years old, she’d go to the top of the stairs (the
five older children had rooms down there), and call out with a high-pitched “HOOOOOOO!!!!”
It was exactly, precisely, the same note
I whistled, and the same length, too. She
always looked sooo smug when her big brothers and sisters all came running,
thinking it was me.
After seven hours of
piecing on Monday and four on Tuesday, the half-quarter blocks (that is, the
triangles that make up each quarter-block) were all put together, and I had started
to lay out all the pieces in order to get a pleasing colorway. There are 13 Whirling Star blocks, and 12
blocks cut from an ‘In Space’ fabric panel by Elizabeth’s Studio.
The ‘panel’ I bought was
advertised poorly – they didn’t bother to say how often the printed design
repeated! I thought the picture covered
the entire 36” x 43” piece of fabric. Nope.
It’s a 12” +/- repeat! So... I
cut the piece into twelve 10” squares.
One of the hospice workers
who visited Loren that day and called to tell me about it remarked on what a ‘sweet
man’ he is – which is how he is often described these days. She asked if I would like her to round up
some volunteers from the School of Medicine at Creighton University to come in
and visit him one or more times a week, talking with him, taking him for walks
in his wheelchair, playing games, doing activities, maybe even exercises, if he’s
able. I said I would very much
appreciate that, as I can only visit him once a week.
Wednesday
was quite windy, with sustained winds of 25-30 mph, and gusts up to 45 mph and
beyond. For
breakfast, I had a bowl of raisin, date, and walnut oatmeal with half a
banana sliced into it. It’s
one of my favorite oatmeal concoctions. I
like cranberry and almond, and all the fruit varieties, too.
One time I had a
bowl of oatmeal at Cracker Barrel that had stewed apple slices in it, with
heavy cream poured over it. Yummy, that
was scrumptious. I should try to
replicate it.
I posted
some pictures of the Whirling Star blocks I had completed so far, and a quilting
friend asked, “How do you get the material so smooth with all the connecting
pieces? I would love to see a pic of the
back of your block. I think I could
learn something important!”
Here’s
what the back looks like:
I
thanked her, and told her, “It’s all a matter of accurate cutting, accurate
stitching, and careful pressing. I like
steam. Lotsa steam! 😃 And ...
sometimes some of those pieces ripple and rumple and refuse to lie
flat, at which point I do the best I can and then sing to myself, ‘♫ ♪ You can
quilt that out! ♪ ♫ ’ 😅”
I made myself some
Theraflu tea that afternoon before our evening church service. I was feeling much better, but my throat was
still a bit sore, and the tea is good, and soothing. I was planning to go to church, but it was
sooo windy! My cute li’l hairdo was
a-gonna get a-mussed. The big heavy
plastic bin on our porch that’s supposed to be a receptacle for packages had
blown halfway across the porch.
I got an appointment
for the Botox injections that help with the Blepharospasm so much – but the
soonest I could get in was January 8th. I should’ve called sooner. The receptionist told me to call in a couple
of weeks and ask if there are any cancellations. They don’t keep lists or notify patients if
there are cancellations. I sure was
hoping to get those treatments before Christmas. They’re expensive, and our insurance won’t pay
for them; so I use the health savings account they put some money into each December;
but it’s only enough for two treatments a year, and I should have four.
We’ve had the same
insurance company for... hmmm... 15, 16 years, maybe? – and in all that time,
they’ve never paid for a solitary thing for us (not that we’ve had any
humongous medical bills at all; we’ve been healthy, thankfully). The things we could really use help with –
Larry’s teeth being removing, and getting dentures; eyeglasses, and the Botox
injections – nope, they won’t help. Most
insurance companies won’t pay for teeth or eye care. But most do pay for Botox treatments
for Blepharospasm. My eye doctor said he’s
never had a patient in all his 30 years of practice whose insurance wouldn’t
pay for that. Hopefully, next year when
I am eligible for Medicaid, it will pay for the treatments. It usually does, according to Mr. Google, who
knows everything there is to know.
After church, we had
a light supper, and then I went back to my quilting studio and sewed until I
had finished all 13 Whirling Star blocks.
Thursday, I began putting
together the central section of ‘The Heavens Declare Thy Glory’. By suppertime, there were only two more long
seams between rows of blocks, and I would have the central section of this
quilt top together. When I’m so close to
finishing various parts of a quilt (or anything else, for that matter), I want
to keep going, going, going... but the chicken was done in the Instant Pot, and
I needed to make mashed potatoes and gravy to go with it.
By midnight, the middle
of the quilt was done and the first border attached. I used lighter colors at the top left, and
steadily darker colors down toward the bottom right. Reckon anyone will even notice that? 😀
Friday, we learned that a
good friend of ours had passed away. Merlin
was six years older than Larry and me. When I was a little girl, he was one of my
favorite ‘big boys’, as I called the group of about half a dozen boys in our much-smaller
church back then who were in their mid-teens. They were all so good to me.
A year or two after
Jacksons moved to town, Larry worked for the ready-mix company owned by
Merlin’s father. When he passed away
some years ago, Merlin became the owner.
He will be very much missed.
I
thought I could trot upstairs to my quilting studio that day and launch right
into piecing border #2. But I had not
yet cut the background pieces – 144 skinny triangles and 36 big diamonds! So... I spent the first three hours cutting. If you’ve designed something in EQ8 with
oodles of pieces and a specific colorway, here’s a good way to keep track of
where you are: change background block
color... then ‘repaint’ it to the right color as you go along.
Saturday,
I went to visit Loren. He wasn’t in the
front commons when I arrived, as he often is, so I went looking for him. First, I peered into his room – and
discovered that there’s a hospital bed in there now. It was in a partial sitting position; he’s
probably in too much pain to lie flat, or to easily get up if he’s lying flat.
I found him in one
of the big rooms at the rear of the home, watching the Nebraska football game
with some others. The Nebraska
Cornhuskers were playing the Wisconsin Badgers.
When I walked in, the score was 7-7.
I sat down at a
table beside Loren, and he looked up and happily greeted me by name.
Some of the people
in that room hadn’t the faintest notion that a Big Important Football Game was
going on, but the lady at the end of the table was really into it, a-whoopin’
and a-hollerin’ and a-poundin’ on the table. Anytime someone – never mind who – got the
ball, she bellowed, “GO!!! RUN!!! RUN!!!
GO!!!”
To be sure, it was
probably a bit confusing to even such an obvious diehard Nebraska football fan
as she was to work out who was who on that field, because the
Cornhuskers were dressed in their usual ‘scarlet and white’, and the Badgers
were in their standard ‘Badger red and white’ – and ‘scarlet’ and ‘Badger red’
look identical, to my eyes. One
team had red on top and white on the bottom, and the other team had those
colors reversed.
Oh, mah woid! I just learned something I never knew: Nebraska wears red on top and white on the
bottom when playing at home, and white on top and red on the bottom when on the
road. What about Wisconsin? Let’s check.
Hmmm... Looks like they follow the same rule – except sometimes they’re
in all white, just to add to the confusion.
Ah, the things one misses when one only listens to football
games, rather than watching them!
The game
was played in Lincoln, so that tells me that the redshirts in this picture are
Cornhuskers, while the whiteshirts are Badgers.
Wow. No wonder Mrs. Whoopity-Holler was
yelling for every last player on the screen.
😂
By the time I left, Nebraska
was ahead 14-10. We ended up winning,
44-25, which makes us bowl-eligible, finally.
I’m a fair-weather
sports fan: I only like to pay attention
when we’re winning. heh
A lady on one of my
online sewing groups once told everyone, “The reason I get so much quilting
done is that I sew or cut fabric or iron every time there’s a commercial!”
Lady, just imagine how
much you’d get done if you turned the stupid boob-tube OFF!
Loren has failed a lot
since I saw him two weeks ago. But he
was in good spirits, and enjoyed looking at pictures on my tablet, and
listening to our great-niece Jodie and to Victoria playing the piano. They put the words to the songs on their
videos, and he does his best to read along, saying the words out loud. I think sometimes he’s remembering the words,
rather than actually reading them.
It’s always so hot
at Prairie Meadows, I often wear short-sleeved tops under cardigans even in the
winter, and remove the cardigan when I get there. I wear sandals as long as I can get by with
it, weatherwise, and then in the winter, I sometimes wear knee socks and, while
visiting, roll them down, if nobody will notice. 😅 How do the workers
stand it, I wonder?
By the time I leave,
I’m dying of thirst, and glad I always bring along a cold drink with ice, in a
thermal mug that keeps it cold!
A few years back, Toyota
came out with what I considered the ugliest New Car Color ever: flat Primer Gray (or at least, that’s what I
call it). But nooooo! They’ve outdone themselves! Without further ado, I present to you, flat
Support-Hose Tan! 😜
Okay, just looked it
up. The gray Tacoma color is called ‘Cement’,
and the tan is called ‘Quicksand’.
The leaves are nearly all
off the trees now, and all the fields are harvested. There was a pretty sunset on the way home,
and once a bald eagle soared over the highway directly in front of me, and
right into silhouette against the setting sun.
I didn’t have time to get a picture of it, too bad.
For supper that
night, we had some of the chili I made and froze last month. Yummy, it was good.
After church last
night, we visited with friends and family for a while, then stopped to get some
sandwiches at Subway before going home.
They have three new sandwiches: Honey
Mustard BBQ Chicken, Spicy Nacho Chicken, and Cheesy Garlic Steak. I got the Honey Mustard BBQ Chicken, and
Larry got the Cheesy Garlic Steak. They
also have new footlong churros and footlong cookies.
Just what this world
needs – footlong cookies. 😆
Today Victoria sent me a picture
of Carolyn dressed in an Indian girl outfit.
“A pretty little
Indian girl!” I wrote back. “Does she know
that her 15th -great-grandmother was Pocahontas?
She did not, and she
was very interested in this, because they’ve been reading about Pocahontas at
school.
Pocahontas married John
Rolfe on April 5, 1614. They had a son
named Thomas, and he was my 12th-great-grandfather.
Okay,
here we have a geode mug as advertised here and there on the Internet, and
next, a couple of shots of the cup I received.
Quite a scam, huh? I sort of suspected that might be the case,
since everywhere that thing and similar cups were advertised, they were all
identical. I think some toddler painted
that light blue on there with tempera paints, don’t you? And it won’t come off; it must’ve been fired
like that. I wonder if there ever was a
mug like the one in the first picture??
The bad thing is,
I got a bunch of ’em in various colors. A
larger set has not arrived, and the ETA is anywhere from December 16-31. 🙄😕 I have two others, pink quartz and black
granite; they’re not too bad.
I got a
bunch of Swiss hot chocolate mix with miniature marshmallows, and I’ll give the
cups and some hot chocolate packets to some of the grandchildren. Maybe they won’t mind the rip-off mugs.
I showed the
pictures to Hester, who wrote back, “That’s so, so bad!!! I wonder if the initial cup actually exists. lolol”
“That’s what I
wonder!” I replied. “Maybe if I’d have
ordered the $18 version instead of the $15 version? They only hold about 6 oz. The kids will have really concentrated hot
chocolate! 😐”
I decided to post my
pictures on some of the Facebook advertisements—and discovered that they’ve all
eliminated the comment section!! I’ll
bet we can all guess why that is.
Hester suggested, “Maybe
you could put a paint tray with the mug and give it as a craft set. DIY Lolz.”
😂
I found a review
where a person paid $95 for her mug – and she wound up with one very similar to
mine.
“What are they
actually made from?” asked Hester.
“Play-Doh,” I told
her. Then, “Or plastic. Resin, maybe.
Imagine if I had sent that directly to someone from Amazon, as I
sometimes do!”
And now it’s time to
head for the feathers. Tomorrow is our
friend’s funeral, and I don’t know if I’ll be going or not, because, of all
things, I have contracted pinkeye! It not
only hurts, it looks dreadful, and it’s contagious. Ugh.
As if I don’t have enough trouble with my eyes.
Maybe sleeping will
be the miracle cure. 😏
,,,>^..^<,,, Sarah Lynn ,,,>^..^<,,,
