Journal: Quilting, Driving to Omaha, and Sad News

 

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 8^th.  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 15^th -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 12^th-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          ,,,>^..^<,,,