Journal: Taxes and Other Fun Stuff

 

A couple of days ago, I did a quick calculation to find an estimate of the amount I spent driving to Omaha to visit Loren once each week for the last three years.  I was amazed to discover it was somewhere around $6,000!  Of course, I changed my route from week to week, and the price of gas fluctuated; so, like I said, that’s just a rough estimate.

Ah, well; I did get a lot of pretty pictures out of those drives!  Everything works out the way God wants it to.  I did what I could because I loved my brother.  He and his wife Janice cared for me with much love when I was little, any time my parents were traveling.

Two online friends recently asked me what church I attend.  Our church is Bible Baptist.  My father started the church in about 1954, six years before I was born.  He was our minister until he passed away in 1992.  All told, counting other churches where he preached, he was a pastor for about 48 years.

One of my favorite verses is Romans 1:16:  “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth...”

Ever since I was a wee little girl, when someone would read that verse (or when I got old enough to read it myself), I’d think, Neither am I! 

A few days ago, I asked a friend about a certain song I’d been trying in vain to remember.  I had very few details, but apparently just enough, for she promptly came up with the song I’d been trying to think of.

That reminded me of the time several of us were practicing various songs one Saturday evening, and I asked, “What’s that song that’s in the key of B flat, in the Inspiring Hymns, and has the word ‘discouragement’ in it?”

Without so much as taking a breath or blinking, my friend Leanne answered in her most adamant tone, “It’s ‘Come, Ye Disconsolate’, and it’s in the key of D flat, and it’s in the Praise & Worship, page 353.” 

It was exactly the song I wanted – and every single clue I’d offered was wrong.  How’d she do that???  After that, I couldn’t sing, and could barely play the piano, because I couldn’t quit laughing.

I spent several hours Tuesday putting together all of Loren’s 2024 income and expenses for the tax accountant.  

While working on that, I did the laundry.  Afterwards, I washed the dishes and gave the kitchen a quick clean.  I didn’t have to cook supper, as we had plenty of leftover lasagna from the night before.  BUT! – there was only one skinny slice of leftover apple crumb pie!  It was mine, because Larry had eaten two pieces, two days earlier.  Reckon he’d be content with some applesauce instead?  

I came up with the perfect solution:  “I know, I know!” I told a friend.  “I’ll tell him the pie is no good, as it’s two days old.”  >>evil sniggle<<

That evening, my nephew Paul, Loren’s second son, wrote this good news to me:  “We got great news.  Teresa’s lung cancer is in remission for now.  God willing, it won’t return.  I lost a toe on my left foot from cancer; it has finally healed.”

We were so glad to hear that.  We have prayed for them often.

Victoria sent me these pictures after getting new flannel sheets that coordinate prettily with their quilt.  (You do recognize that quilt, don’t you?  😉 )

“We’re always a tiny bit sad,” she wrote, “when spring comes and we move back to lighter cotton sheets.  Who knows, maybe we won’t change this time.  😄  We have a cooling bamboo blanket for summer and it does work well.  So we probably could handle cozy sheets.”

“Some people like flannel year around,” I commented.  “Some people don’t like it ever.  And some like satin.  I got satin once.  We kept falling out of bed.”  😂

After supper, I worked on Levi’s quilt, putting the last two-inch cream-on-cream and white-on-cream border on it and ironing on the letters that spell his name.

The cream fabrics that I’ve been using for the background was purchased from Marshall Dry Goods – way back in June of 2018, when I got a variety of 59 one-yard pieces of tone-on-tone in both whites and creams for the Lace & Cream New York Beauty quilt.  That was kind of pricey, but I wound up with quite a lot of leftovers, and I’ve used them in many quilts since then.  Every time I use more of those fabrics, it reduces the price of the original quilt, if you understand what I mean.

Here’s all that’s left of the cream-on-cream and white-on-cream fabrics.  There’s less than a quarter of a yard in most of those folded pieces.  I have a little more cream-on-white and white-on-white fabrics than I do these creams.

I didn’t have any fabric that would work for backing, so later that night, I ordered some from Marshall Dry Goods.  

I ordered some for Nathanael’s quilt while I was at it, which brought the total past $80 and got me free shipping.  Fabric that usually costs $12-14/yard only costs $7-9/yard there.  It’s nice quality, and usually comes quickly.

The Mariner’s Compass quilt I made for Bobby and Hannah several years ago is pretty well worn out, and since I wouldn’t get around to making them another for a while as I want to finish the grandchildren’s quilts first, I offered them the Ohio Star Log Cabin quilt and pillows I made for my brother Loren and his wife Janice back in 2009, and they took me up on my offer.

I ran first the pillows and then the quilt through the dryer on Steam Refresh with wet towels and some good-smelling dryer sheets, in order to make sure it wasn’t dusty or stale.  This quilt and the pillows were made entirely on my Bernina 830 Record, the machine I got when I was 17 years old.  I had not yet gotten either the HQ16 or the Bernina Artista 180.  It’s quilted with a diagonal serpentine stitch.

It’s not easy quilting such a big quilt on a domestic sewing machine!

More pictures here.

Wednesday afternoon, a bright and sunny day, I put the quilt and pillows into the rear of the Mercedes, followed by the big KitchenAid mixer, along with all the attachments, that used to be Norma’s.  The mixer was going to Victoria, as hers bit the dust recently.  That thing weighs a ton!  I use it so seldom, it was all dusty, and I had to wipe it down good and proper.  I don’t have space on my counter for it anyway.  I then texted the kids to be sure to collect these things from my vehicle after our midweek church service that evening.

Wouldn’t you know, Hannah’s mixer has now gone kaput, too.  🫤  I don’t know how to divide the mixer in half.

Back in the sewing room, I began pulling out all the printed panels I ordered a while back in order to choose one for Josiah, who’s next on the list.  After having seven granddaughters’ quilts in a row, there will be 13 grandsons’ quilts in a row, except for one girl.  Then there’ll be quilts for a girl, a boy, a girl, and a boy.

So I need 15 more quilts for boys – and I have 23 pretty panels to choose from!  How’d I manage that?  Hmmm... for one thing, I didn’t know I would have the reversible quilt Hannah found amongst Bethany’s things, which I am turning into two quilts.  Oh, and I bought the Vintage Airplane panel later, after learning that Justin loved planes so much.  Plus, I used the nine puppy pictures and the cross-stitched Fisherman Fred; Amy gave me those pieces after I’d bought the panels.  It’s possible I bought two of the skinnier panels for one quilt, too. 

I chose a panel with four pictures of wild animals from the Serengeti, and headed into my little office to look through my few bins of fabric for any pieces that might match.

I’d pulled out only three or four pieces when I came upon a bunch of block sections like these, partially sewn together, with several extra horse head blocks besides, started by grandson Josiah’s late great-grandmother Elaine!  Remember the lady for whom I finished the Biblical Blocks quilt?  These blocks were put together by her, years ago.  They have her trademark:  seams done on a serger.  If I remember correctly, Amy’s sister Suzanne found the blocks in Elaine’s house around the same time Amy found the partially-done Biblical Blocks quilt some years back when they were cleaning the place after discovering there had been an ongoing water leak in the basement, creating all sorts of problems.  Many things had to be discarded.  Fabric that hadn’t been ruined was washed – and this is some of it.

Perfect for Josiah, who likes all things cowboy.  The next grandson, Josiah’s older brother Jeffrey, will get the Serengeti animals.

Annnnnd... just about the time I got started, I figured out the probable cause Elaine quit in the middle of the project.  I’d already noticed that the two blocks sewn onto both top and bottom of the large horse picture stuck out half an inch on both sides of the larger picture.  Next, I found that, like so many preprinted fabrics, many of these were all whoppyjaw.  There are missing pieces, too.  It was a kit, I’m thinking, because I can sort of see lines printed on the fabric where a person is supposed to cut.  They’re so far off-grain, some of the horse-head blocks are diamonds instead of squares.

Well, I’ve dealt with worse!  I’m going to make it work, one way or a-tuther.

Soon it was time to get ready for church.  In addition to the quilt and the mixer that I needed to deliver to Hannah and Victoria, I’d gotten some  lamb’s wool memory foam pads for Lura Kay’s wheelchair arms.  The pads can help prevent irritation to the skin from the vinyl armrests on chairs.  I gave them to her daughter-in-law Christine after church.

Larry wasn’t able to come that night, as he was in the middle of painting the steel bed he put on Walkers’ new truck, and had to finish it.

Before coming home, I picked up a big grocery order at Walmart.  It took six trips to get it all into the house, and would’ve taken seven, had not Larry arrived home at the tail end of all those trips, and carried the last few bags in for me.  By the time I got it all put away, I was half starved half to death, and ready to eat everything I’d just bought!

I ate a small cluster of big green grapes (they’re sooo sweet and good), Colby Jack cheese and Hickory Farms sausage on a biscuit that I’d baked that afternoon, Fuji dried apple crisps, cranberry-watermelon juice, cottage cheese, Chobani Peanut Butter Cup Flip yogurt, and a piece of Red Velvet cake a friend gave us.  Small helpings of all that, mind you!  Gluttony in moderation. 

The kid at Walmart who put groceries into the Benz put several jugs of juice on top of one of the loaves of bread, and cans of vegetables on top of the grapes.  Aarrgghh.  I set the pancaked bread on the table (as opposed to the refrigerator, where I usually store bread, since we don’t eat it all that fast), and it gradually rose an inch or more; but it was still sorta squat and low.  I’d give it overnight, and then decide whether or not to complain.  They’re really good about giving me a refund if the food isn’t good.  I rarely complain; it’s usually fine.  I don’t want a reputation as a complainer; they might quit being ‘really good about giving me a refund’!

Everything I’d ordered (except the inadvertent flatbread) looked really good:  strawberries, all colors of peppers, green and red grapes, lettuce, yams, etc.

While I was putting things away, I found the Clementines I’d stuck in the very bottom drawer three weeks ago, and then could never find again.  I thought Larry had finished them off and was surprised, because he usually pretends to be unable to peel anything.

When I tried the Fuji apple freeze-dried fruit crisps, I discovered they’re going to be fine for Larry.  He’s sad sometimes when all the dried fruit is too leathery for him to chew.

He finally tried some last night, and agreed, yes, they’re fine for him, “if I like Fuji-flavored Styrofoam,” said he.  😂

“Well, you can have your choice of either ‘flavorful’ or ‘chewable’.  But you can’t have both at the same time,” I told him.

I wonder if the better brands of dried apples taste better?  I got Great Value, because the other brands were twice as expensive.

Hannah sent this picture of Chimera, writing, “I am required to play with him.”

Just look at that funny doggy face, with his lips pooched around the toy, and ears all flat and eyes beseeching.

“He keeps ‘beeping’ the lunchbox there with his paws,” said Hannah, “acting like it’s one of their ‘talk’ buttons.  He’s a goof.”

I wonder if a dog like him, with one blue eye and one brown eye, ever looks in the mirror and wonders, Why am I not symmetrical?

Hannah got a fold-out ironing board that hides behind a cupboard door on the wall.  Bobby installed it a couple of weeks ago.  She sent me a picture, and it reminded me of the time we were in a motel room where, when Larry opened a cupboard door to see what was in it, the ironing board that was hiding behind it just cascaded right out.

Instead of trying to catch it, he acted like the yokels had come shootin’.  He yelped and ran in place and waved both arms in the air.

I tried to tell him to cut it out; he was going to awaken people below us on Floor 2 and even Floor 1 below that; but I was laughing too hard to get any words out.

Thursday, I was able to send Loren’s tax info to the accountant via a secure link online, so I didn’t have to go to town and drop them off.

It was 47°, cloudy and damp.  I filled the bird feeders, and there were a whole lot of robins out in the trees.  They’ve usually gone south; but there are a few strays that stick around all year.  I wonder how they find anything to eat, when everything is covered with snow and frozen solid?  I suppose there are always a few frozen berries here and there.

Late one spring a few years ago, there was a young robin that took a liking to the suet I put out, probably because it had a berry mixture in it.  It was so funny to watch him fluttering up to the suet feeder, flapping like crazy trying to pretend he was a hummingbird and could hover, or maybe pretending he was a nuthatch, and could hang upside down.  But he’d wind up with big mouthfuls of suet for all his ungainliness, plop back down onto the railing, and gobble it down before fluttering back up for more.  I’m pretty sure it was the same robin who showed up three years running, pilfering from the suet feeder.

There were Eurasian collared doves cooing out front, and blue jays doing that funny ‘toodle-toodle’ in the back.  As soon as the blue jays got a safe distance away, all the little songbirds returned.

I started a new rummage through my fabric, pulling out pieces that would match the horse prints.

For supper that evening, we had Spinach Alfredo pizza, Clementine oranges, applesauce, a slice of the red velvet cake a friend gave us (I think that cake is multiplying during the night), and cranberry-cherry juice.

After supper, I continued working on Josiah’s horse quilt, while Larry worked on one of his pickups in a friend’s big garage in Genoa, 15 miles to our west.

Friday, I headed upstairs to my quilting studio.  Just seconds after I got everything turned on (it takes a minute or two of walking around the room switching on lights, machine, space heater, and laptop, since there’s no master switch), Larry called and announced that he was going to Aspen Equipment in Gretna (a suburb of Omaha) with Walkers’ new truck to have the boom installed rrrrright NOW, as he had the steel flatbed welded on and finished as much as he could before the boom was put on, and I could (should, would) follow him in the Mercedes in order to provide the return wheels.

Well, fine.  But I had to load the boxes and bins for Larry’s sister Rhonda into the vehicle, change clothes (me has me pride), and gather coffee, iced tea, purse, laptop, and camera.  And shoes.  One should wear shoes when one travels in the winter.

I got all that done in about ten minutes, and headed to town.  I was almost to the corner where we turn toward Walkers’ shop when Larry called.  He’d already headed east in his truck, and was halfway across town.  (Walkers is on the west side of town.) 

I didn’t need to ask, to know that this meant he was going to be late getting to Aspen Equipment.  He only gets in gigantic hurries when it’s already too late to be on time.

“I need to stop and clean the windshield at Sapp Bros.,” I told him, “and then I need to put the address for Aspen Equipment into my phone so I can find the place if I don’t catch up with you before we get there.”

But he stopped and waited for me at Sapp Bros., even offering to clean the windshield.

I hopped out and did it myself while he was still walking across the lot.  I can do it in 45 seconds.  It takes Larry five minutes.

No, we will not discuss who gets it cleaner.

Ssshhhhh!!  I said we will not.

I plugged Aspen Equipment’s address into my phone, and the nice Lady of the Maps (sort of like the Lady of the Lake, only less damp) informed me that the place was going to be closed when we got there. 

Yep.  Just as I thought.

As we drove, Larry called a worker there who said Larry could leave the truck outside the gate, and he’d come back after supper and put it in.

But when we got there, another man was just leaving (unusual; it was already 4:40 p.m., and the workers generally all hightail it out of there at 4:30 on the dot), and he opened the gate and let Larry park the truck.

Next, we went and got Loren’s watch at Prairie Meadows, a 20-minute drive.  They found the watch a day or two after we got his things in December, but they didn’t find any of the new pants I’d gotten him a couple of months earlier.  I sure hope someone is making good use of them.

Another 20-minute drive, and we dropped off at Rhonda’s place all the old family pictures I’d extracted from my late mother-in-law Norma’s albums, and a few intact albums, too, along with the Double Wedding Ring quilt Larry’s grandmother made for his mother in 1974.  Rhonda wasn’t home; she was doing some errands for her daughter Deanna, who is in the hospital with a staph infection.  Deanna has been fighting cancer for several years now.

By 5:30, the sun had gone down. 

We used the last of our gift card from Keith and Korrine at Cracker Barrel, which was 15 minutes away.  Trying to do things in Omaha invariably entails a whole lot of driving, with little time for anything else.

I had a pot roast meal with carrots, celery, onions, mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits, and fried apple slices (not the green beans in this picture I took from their website).  

Larry had maple bacon chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and biscuits.  

Actually, there were no biscuits ready when the waitress brought our order; there were only cornbread muffins, with an offer for the biscuits when they were done.  Because cornbread causes a little trouble with Larry’s dentures, he said yes, he would like biscuits.

We therefore went home with the two extra cornbread muffins, which I had for breakfast the next morning.

A skinny little sliver of a waxing moon went down in the west as we headed toward home.  It’s waxing, when the right side is showing; and waning when you can see the left side.

As we were driving through Omaha, a small herd of cocky teenagers were walking along, and one made as if to cross the street directly in front of us.

“Tootle him with vigor!” I said, and then immediately had to see if that old saying, from a brochure at a car rental firm in Tokyo, might possibly be on the Internet by now.  I had first read it in a hilarious article in the Reader's Digest many years ago.

And there it was, along with a whole lot of other funny signs spotted in various places around the world.  Here’s the entire quote:  “When passenger of foot heave in sight, tootle the horn.  Trumpet him melodiously at first, but if he still obstacles your passage then tootle him with vigor.”

Here are a few more:

In a Bucharest hotel lobby:  “The lift is being fixed for the next day.  During that time we regret that you will be unbearable.”

In a hotel in Athens:  “Visitors are expected to complain at the office between the hours of 9 a.m. and 11 a.m. daily.”

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from a Russian Orthodox monastery:  “You are welcome to visit the cemetery where famous Russian and Soviet composers, artists, and writers are buried daily except Thursday.”

In an Austrian hotel catering to skiers:  “Not to perambulate the corridors in the house of repose in the boots of ascension.”

Outside a Hong Kong tailor shop:  “Ladies may have a fit upstairs.”

In a Rhodes tailor shop:  “Order your summers suit.  Because is big rush, we will execute customers in strict rotation.”

On the door of a Moscow hotel room:  “If this is your first visit to the U.S.S.R., you are welcome to it.”

In an advertisement by a Hong Kong dentist:  “Teeth extracted by the latest Methodists.”

Okay, I’ll quit now.  (Not that I want to, hee hee.)

When we got back to Columbus, we stopped at Walkers’ shop to get the BMW, and then Larry decided to wash the Mercedes in the big wash bay.  I helped him dry it off when he finished.

Saturday, Rhonda wrote to thank us for the pictures and the quilt, and to say that their oldest brother, Junior, had died from a car accident exactly 57 years ago that day.

Here’s his last school picture before the accident.  He was 11.  

My in-laws endured several tragedies, one after another.  Their second son, Roy, had passed away from a brain tumor just 2 ½ years earlier.  He was 7.  

Roy passed away in August of 1965; Junior died in February of 1968; and my father-in-law Lyle’s father died of a heart attack later that same year, 1968, at age 61.

That must’ve been almost too much to bear.  And yet I knew them to be happy.

I remember the day Lyle first came to visit my father when the Jacksons moved to town in 1974.  I was 13.  I opened the front door as he came up the walk, and I thought, That’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

This is his senior picture.

“Yes, he was very handsome,” agreed Rhonda when I related this story.  “And you ended up marrying his son.”

“Well, that was your cousin’s fault,” I told her.  “(The marrying part, not the father-in-law being handsome part.)  She informed me before your family ever arrived in town, ‘Kenny is lots of fun.  But Larry is hard to get along with.’  I immediately decided, ‘Hmmmph!!!  I will be good friends with Larry!’”

Well, I wound up good friends with them all.  But Larry, ... 😉  Here he is when he was a senior in high school.

I tell him I married him to get even with him for stealing the middle out of my big, warm cinnamon roll at lunchtime in high school. 

Yes.  He did that.

You may now go back to the story of the one slice of apple pie on page 2, and reread it with different eyes.

The backing for Levi’s quilt was scheduled to arrive Saturday, but it was still in Little Rock, Arkansas, that morning.  Maybe the delivery truck is jet powered?  

It didn’t matter in any case; I had the joy and delight of doing our taxes that day.  Anyone getting near me would hear me muttering to myself, Get it done; you’ll get a refund.  Get it done; you’ll get a refund.  Get it done; you’ll get a refund.  Get it done; you’ll get a refund.

Here’s a male American goldfinch in his winter plumage, looking on disapprovingly as a squirrel chows down on black oil sunflower seeds.

And here’s the squirrel, with his ‘What, what?!  Who, me?!’ face.  Pretty sure he’s thinking, Don’t look at ME; you all eat like pigs!

He’d be right, too.  Did you know that birds eat between one-quarter to one-half of their body weight per day, depending on the species, activity level, and environmental factors?  Smaller birds generally eat a larger percentage of their body weight compared to larger birds.  A chickadee, for example, will eat about 35% of its body weight each day!

Just look at the stare this little female house finch is giving me.  “Come on lady, can’t you do something?!”

By 6:30 p.m., I’d finished the taxes.  Well, done as far as I can go, that is.  There are two or three forms that the IRS still needs to complete before my papers can be submitted, the sloths.  Haven’t they had a year?!  Anyway, I’m done.

TurboTax will let me know when the IRS documents are ready, and then all I have to do is sign in, digitally sign my name, and click ‘Submit’.

I made giant, heaping burritos as a reward for myself – and only managed to work my way through about a third of mine.

I made the burritos this way:  I started with ground chuck with a low fat content, and put various spices in it:  crushed red pepper, salt, pepper, paprika, garlic, oregano, etc.  I added some homemade sweet and spicy salsa Larry’s friend gave us, cooked it ’til it was nearly done, then drained it and added onions.  When the onions and meat were pretty much done, I added generous amounts of sliced green, orange, and red bell peppers, then removed the pan from the heat before the peppers lost very much of their crunch.

Meanwhile, I cooked rice, then browned tortilla shells with butter in a skillet.

Time to layer everything together:  I put the tortilla shell on a plate and spooned on the meat mixture.  I added several big dollops of sour cream, then some spoonfuls of buttery rice.  Next, I sprinkled on shredded Mexican cheese, waited half a minute while it softened on that hot rice, then put on lettuce or spinach leaves, slices of tomato, and poured on the picanté sauce.

Sorry, you can’t wrap that pile of yummy stuff up and hold it in your hand; you’ll just have to eat it with a fork!

Since there were a couple of hours before bedtime, I scurried up to my quilting studio and worked on Josiah’s quilt, which I have named ‘Mane Event’.  

The backing that was supposed to arrive that day landed in Kansas City at 3:23 p.m.  Expected delivery was still listed as Saturday, by 9:00 p.m.  I knew it would never happen.

By 10:00 p.m., I had half of the next set of sashing sewn onto the horse head blocks.  It was time to quit for the night.

After church last night, we had burritos with Saturday night’s leftover ingredients.  I don’t make extra burritos; rather, I save the ingredients separately and then make them fresh the next time.  It tastes less like leftovers that way.

I filled all the bird feeders a little before noon today.  There are enough of them, with a variety of seed and suet, that it takes a few minutes to get it done – and it was cold out there!

I learned why it felt so cold, when I came back inside and pulled up my weather app:  it was 28° – but the ‘real feel’ was only 8°.  The wind was blowing at 30 mph.

By 4:30 p.m., it was only 22°, and the windchill had dropped to -11°.  That’s 11 below zero!

This evening, I fixed bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches for supper, using bacon my nephew Kelvin gave us for Christmas.  He smoked it and perfectly seasoned it, then vacuum-packed it.  BLTs are one of my favorite meals, though Larry has a bit of trouble eating it.  I make his bacon a little less crispy than mine, so it’s easier for him to get a bite and chew it.  Poor guy, he likes crispy bacon just like I do!

There was a knock at the door, and I thought, Fabric!  But nope; it was a double pack of mouthwash.  (Well, to clarify, it was the FedEx man who did the knocking.  heh)

Oh! – I just discovered that the backing fabric arrived a while ago and is currently cooling its heels in our mailbox over on Old Highway 81.  Well, I don’t need it yet; I’ll just let Larry bring the mail when he comes home, as he usually does.

Look what I found in my journal from December 8, 2003, four days before Mama passed away:

Shortly after Daddy died, Mama gave Loren Daddy’s big old Bible, Daddy’s first preaching Bible.  It is full of priceless, handwritten notes of Daddy’s.  It one time rode inadvertently on the running board of Daddy’s car, from one dusty little Colorado town to another, not quite making it to its destination before it fell off.  

Daddy preached over a radio station in those days, and was well known thereabouts.  Well, a road construction worker found the Bible, and, thinking it a novel bonanza, kept it for about a week, spending every spare minute he had reading notes and remarks Daddy had made in the margins.  Then, hearing him on the radio the next Sunday, his conscience smote him, and he returned the Bible.

Lura Kay has the Bible Daddy used later, the one I remember him preaching from – although I often saw him get out the big old Bible, turning its yellowed pages with great care, reading things he’d written years earlier, sometimes copying things neatly into the newer Bible.

Anyway, Lura Kay, who is the overseer of all Mama’s property, asked me if I would like to have Mama’s Bible, as Mama can’t see well enough to read it anymore.  This is the Bible Daddy gave her when I was a baby.

Oh, yes, I would like it!  I remember how I used to carefully open the cover of that Bible just to read what Daddy had inscribed on the inside page:  To my darling wife, Hester Maurine Swiney.

She also gave me the little silver spoon and fork that were Daddy’s when he was a baby, and a couple of tattered little New Testaments of his.  I shall display the silverware and the Testaments in the étagère, along with some old – probably antique – dishes I remember eating from when I was very small.

Oh, and we found the big black buttons with the anchors engraved on them that were on the peacoat Daddy wore in the Navy.  I opened the cover of one of the little Bibles – and there, right before my eyes, was something for which I’d searched for years:  the name and number of the ship Daddy was on in the Navy.  There was his old address where mail might reach him when he was at sea.  I’ve always wondered if we could find the man – ‘Goodman’ was his name – who had the bunk above Daddy’s, the man who read his Bible every night, often aloud so that Daddy could hear.  That man was instrumental in causing Daddy to turn to God.  They lost contact after the war, and Daddy never heard from him again.  So the man has no idea what his influence came to.

 

Now... where’s the little Bible?  I know right where Mama’s big Bible is... but... where’s the little one???  It is not in the étagère where I said I would put it.  Bother.

I did find all sorts of other lost and forgotten things in searching for it today, though!

I have thought that I should do another search for information about the ship Daddy was on, and his friend Goodman.  Back in the early 2000s, Ask Jeeves and AltaVista search engines were somewhat lacking in information.

Here’s a funny I found in the same journal as the above excerpt: 

Friday morning I was combing Victoria’s hair for school (she was six).  I sprayed it with hairspray – and accidentally doused her ear.

“Well, that ear shouldn’t go anyplace and get lost,” remarked Victoria.

 

I promptly sent that funny to Victoria, who soon responded, “😂 Violet would say that.”

I thought the same.  😄

Thinking about old memories, I recall my father once commenting, after reading some article, “There’s a lot of money going under the table.”

I, age 4 or 5, I suppose, was amazed.  Why?!!!  But nobody else was reacting much, so I sat very still and waited until I thought everyone had forgotten that remark, and then I slooooowly and stealthily peeked under the table.  

Nothing was there.

I did wonder why my mother looked all twinkly-eyed (and was trying not to) when I popped back up.

I was just playing the piano, and now I’ve walked back to my computer – and can’t figure out how to type.

It feels like I’m in the key of F, so my fourth finger on my right hand should hit a B flat, etc.  It’s been like that ever since I learned to type – switching quickly from piano to typewriter boggles my brain.  The other way around – from keyboard to piano – is fine, no problem.

I wonder what kind of a brain glitch that is, exactly?

Bedtime!

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