A friend recently told me that she’d just watched a podcast about the Schoolhouse Blizzard of 1888. “Did you hear about that, growing up?”
she asked.
I said I had, as it was in our Nebraska
History book. Also, we had an elementary
teacher who read stories about it to us, and then showed us on weather
instruments what had happened with cold fronts, temperatures, wind, atmospheric
pressure, and so on.
I would’ve found all this intriguing in any
case, but it meant much more to me, because I had a great-grandfather, Charles
A. Bacon, who was a schoolteacher in South Dakota in the late 1800s. He got caught in that very blizzard, which
occurred on January 12, 1888. He’d let the children go home early, and
they all made it safely; but he stayed a bit later to tidy up the classroom –
and he had farther to go. He didn’t beat the blizzard.
The horse brought him in the next morning,
lying across the saddle, half frozen to death.
He lived, but was never strong again. He acquired tuberculosis the following fall.
Charles and Joicie moved with their little
girl Ethel, age one, back to southern Illinois to be with family, hoping that
the milder weather would help him recover.
He did not recover. He died at the age of 28 in June of 1889, two
months before my maternal grandmother, Lura Mabel [Bacon] Winings, was born,
August 3, 1889.
After Charles died, Joicie did tailoring and
sewing for a living. She was well-known in their town and nearby towns
for making men’s suits. She made her wedding dress in this picture
entirely by hand, designing the pattern for it, too.
She later married George Reuss. Ethel
died when she was 20 and my grandma was 18.
Joicie and George Reuss had two boys, born in 1906 and 1907. The
younger son lived to be 100 years old.
Joicie’s mother was named Sarah [Rhodes]
Adkins. She died in 1872 at the age of 34. Her youngest child,
Mary, had died at the age of 5 months just two years earlier. Sarah had four
children by her first husband, but they all died in infancy. The husband
died, and she remarried. She had five
children by her second husband. In addition to baby Mary, a son died in
infancy, and another daughter died at age 11. So of nine children, only
my great-grandmother Joicie and her older sister Ida Mae lived to adulthood.
Life sure had a lot of tragedies back then,
didn’t it?
Joicie was a born again Christian by the time
my father knew her in the mid-1930s; and Daddy always said that it was a good
part of her influence that made him turn to God.
It’s so important that our lives bear testimony of what we profess to
believe! The effects are far-reaching,
whether we ever know it or not.
Perhaps you’ll recall, we gave Arnold a set of interlocking dinosaurs
for his birthday. Victoria sent us an
audio clip in which Arnold thanks us for the ‘dino horse’, as he pronounces it. I wrote of this, and my friend Penny soon responded,
saying she had a dinosaur for Arnold, too.
She told the story of how she acquired
it: “Where did I get a dinosaur?
Well, I was in the courthouse, doing this and that with a friend who was doing this and that in
the motor vehicle department, and a man there uses his 3D printer to make
things, including dinosaurs. He brought
some out from the shelf so I could feel them, and then he gave me one. I’ve owned it now for over a couple years;
hence, I can give it to Arnold. Next time I see him, he’ll have
it.”
She was true to her word.
Soon after that, she wrote to me, “Check your
DropBox. Arnold is in it.” 😂
Sho’ ’nuff, there was an audio clip that
Victoria had recorded of Arnold thanking Penny for the dinosaur. Because Penny is a teacher in our school, the
children call her ‘Miss Golden’.
Arnold launches in, speaking in the growliest
voice he can manage (since he believes that’s how dinosaurs talk): “Thank you for dino horse, G’bum,” he says,
sounding growlier than usual on account of that bad cold from which he was
still recovering.
Victoria, not realizing ‘G’bum’ was Arnold’s
rendition of ‘Golden’, coached, “Say ‘Thank you, Miss Golden’!”
“Thank you, Miss Goldbun,” parroted
Arnold, making a good, solid effort.
“What did she give you?” asked Victoria.
“Dino horse!” growled Arnold. “Dino horse, Bum-bun!”
That little sweetie tickles my funnybone.
“Sometime when you don’t have anything to do (haha!! snicker-snort!),” I
said to Victoria, “I’d be pleased to see a picture of that ‘dino horse’ Penny
gave Arnold.”
Victoria did one better: she sent
me a little video. The dinosaur is
jointed, and when she tilted it back and forth, it clackity-clacked quite
satisfactorily. It even glows in the
dark.
Tuesday, I gathered together all the forms I needed, pulled up Turbo
Tax, and went back to where I’d left off the previous week when I discovered I
still needed form 1099-R.
As I worked, I sipped some Tropical Vibe Celsius... but that wasn’t
feeling so good on my throat, so I made myself some Loyd’s Pineapple & Pear
tea. It’s sooo good. I need to look for more Loyd’s Polish tea! Well, maybe not until I use up the other teas
I have. How did I wind up with so many
different kinds of tea?! I like the
Irish teas, too.
Around 4:00 p.m., a little box popped up on Turbo Tax, inquiring, “What
have you enjoyed most about your experience with us so far?”
Last year I typed into that box, “The fact that there have been no popup
boxes asking me to tell what I enjoyed most about my experience with you so
far. Until now.”
This year, I wrote, “My Loyd’s Pineapple & Pear tea.”
I don’t like interruptions. But
if I must be interrupted, I can at least be entertaining!
After a few calls to Larry to find out how many vehicles and trailers he
had paid registration fees for last year, and what, exactly, he had done with
various retirement funds, I finally finished our taxes.
I shouldn’t be grumpy about it, really, since, after all, we are getting
a refund.
“I rewarded myself for completing the taxes with another cup of Loyd’s
tea,” I emailed a friend who was also working on taxes.
“What did Loyd think of you sipping his tea?” she asked.
I was about to type, “I only did it when he wasn’t looking,” when I
spotted gmail’s suggested reply, which was in a different format and a whole
lot more wordy than it used to be: “He’s
fine with it. He’s a tea man.”
I sent both replies – mine and Mr. Google’s – with the appropriate
credits.
I have a clock/thermometer/humidity gauge
that used to be Loren’s. The time stays correct with Greenwich Meridian. Well, that is, it’s radio-controlled and
automatically syncs the time with the atomic clock in Boulder,
Colorado, which is synchronized with the international time
scale, Coordinated Universal Time (UTC), which is the modern standard based on
the Greenwich Meridian.
This clock changes automatically from
Daylight Saving Time to Standard Time, and the inside temperature gauge is
right – but evidently I left the sensor for the outside temperature on Loren’s
house somewhere. Reckon our friends who bought the house would look at me
funny if I went over there and started examining the exterior of their house? 😂
They have two little girls now. It’s a
sweet young family.
Larry,
evidently feeling sympathetic or appreciative or both, on account of me slaving
over the taxes (let’s not tell him that Turbo Tax does the majority of the
work, agreed?), offered to bring home food for supper during one of our phone
conversations. I chose runzas, which we had
not had for a long time. Larry likes the
Italian version. I prefer the original,
so long as I have access to plenty of butter.
Mmmmmm... a little dab of butter before each bite is... just right.
He also
brought French fries, onion rings, chili, and cinnamon rolls. I don’t like French fries, and I rarely eat
fried onion rings (I bake them, when I fix them at home); but they smelled good
and I was hungry. I ate my runza and three
onion rings, and saved my chili and cinnamon roll for the next day.
Wednesday,
I was happy to be back to scanning and editing old photos. I was delighted to find not only this picture
of Hester when she was less than a day old – and only 5 lbs. 2 oz. – all
dressed and ready to go home, but the little dress, too!
I made it
from a doll pattern, and it fit her perfectly. There’s a bonnet, too, but it was way too big
for her. Dolls apparently have bigger
heads than babies do! Why didn’t I know
that?
Oh!! – I
found the photos with the bonnet!
I wrote to Hester, “I found the little dress you wore home from the
hospital, and washed it, along with the matching bonnet (which was much too big
for a while). Do you want it?”
Of course she did. ☺️
She was only a couple of months old here. I look at the pictures of Hester as a baby,
and so clearly remember how, just before she learned to laugh out loud, she’d
smile all over, with her whole self, curling up in a cuddly little baby-ball,
clasped hands at her mouth. She was so tiny when she started doing
that. Sometimes she would kick a wee foot, clasp her hands together, and
lift them to her face, breathing quickly, and we knew that at any moment, that
bright-eyed baby was going to laugh.
Keira did that, too, when she was
teeny-tiny. Keira started out at 2 lbs. 8 oz.
My mother, for whom Hester was named, gave that little jumper and blouse
to Hester. The jumper was corduroy, and
very soft. It fit Hester perfectly in
early autumn. The bonnet was too summery
by then, but I had to at least get a picture of her wearing it.
Facebook informed me that on that day four years ago, I posted this photo
of Hester, age 11, at Twin Rivers State Park, Nebraska, in June of 2000,
holding a frog. I promptly sent it to
Hester (again).
“Keira will get a kick out of that!!” Hester wrote back. “She’ll wonder what was wrong with me. 😂😂😂 She’s pretty anti-bugs and critters.”
I looked back at my journal, and then told Hester, “When I sent it to
you four years ago, you showed it to Keira, and, after looking at it silently
for a moment or two, she said, ‘Did your Mama let you do that?!!’ It’ll be fun to see what she says this
time!”
Keira is 7 ½ now; she would’ve been 3 ½ when Hester showed her the photo
the first time.
Hester texted again after Keira got out of school. “She really likes the picture, but she did
say, ‘I would NOT have done that.’ lol” 😄
Before I curled my hair that morning, I put on the bright rust-colored
turtleneck I planned to wear to church that night. It would demolish my
hairdo if I put it on later.
I started curling my hair.
My back itched. My right arm
itched. My left arm itched. Aauugghh!
After a short while of that (fortunately, before I got my hair
completely curled), I removed it (the sweater, not the hair), put on a soft,
short-sleeved top, and then donned the turtleneck once again. Looking at
the ingredients (uh, whatsit? ...) – oh! Fabric composition! Fiber content! That’s it. 😅 Anyway, judging by the fabric composition, it shouldn’t
be scratchy, but it is.
With the soft top under it, it was no longer scratchy, but the
turtleneck was snug around the neck, which I don’t like, even if I do
have a scrawny chicken neck. Next time I wear that thing,
it’ll be when I’m not going to have it on for a good part of the day!
I decided to eat the cinnamon roll Larry brought home from Runza for
breakfast. Good heavens, that
thing was sugary. “I am now sweetened
for the day,” I told him when he came home for lunch, then changed it to, “No,
I’m sweetened for the month.” 😅
Why did I do that?! I
never eat cinnamon rolls for breakfast! 😝😜 Especially not with a noose around my
neck. 😛
My nephew Paul and his wife Teresa received a
‘smart
bird feeder’ from his son and family. I had
not heard of such a thing before, until Paul, who’s a year and a half older
than me, sent me some videos and pictures.
These feeders are equipped with solar panels and cameras to capture videos
and photos of all the birds that frequent the feeder. These can be viewed on a cellphone or laptop.
When I looked them up, I discovered there are
even ‘smart hummingbird feeders’. But
most of them have only one feeding station. The vicious little ruby-throats that migrate
through here would stab each other to death with those long skinny swords they
have on the fronts of their heads!
Here’s a screenshot from one of the videos
Paul sent me – a male purple finch feeding a female purple finch. Courtship amongst the feathered fowl has
evidently already started, down in Texas!
There was a squirrel cavorting about in the background, too.
Next, he sent me this still shot, saying,
“Then there’s this monster giving me the stink eye for not providing enough
corn in the wild bird seed from Walmart.
What’s a person to do. Can’t
satisfy everyone.” 😅
Below is the smart hummingbird feeder I saw
online.
I got the photos in 1 ½ albums edited before time for church that
evening.
I took
this photo a month before Christmas of 1997. Victoria was 9 months old, and Keith was 17.
The next
picture was taken a year later.
For supper that night, we had Panera Bread chicken noodle soup. Good stuff!
I discovered snow on the back deck Thursday morning when I went out to
hang the bird feeders.
By suppertime, one more album was scanned.
That evening, Victoria wrote, “I have a vague
memory that Uncle John H. played the piano. Did I just make that up? 😅”
“He did!” I told her. “I was
totally astonished one time when I was, oh, about 10 years old or so, to hear
some really pretty chords and runs and then a lively hymn on the piano. I could recognize people’s playing – but this
time it was someone I didn’t recognize. I
came running out of my bedroom – and there was John H. at the piano. I remember him laughing at me; my face must’ve
looked funny.”
Then I told her, “Your Grandma Swiney played the piano, too. But I only heard her play a time or two, in my
entire life.”
“Too busy?” asked Victoria.
“More probably, she didn’t think she was ‘good enough’,” I said.
She had no idea (or maybe she did) that her pretty chords and scales made
me like them, and taught me how important it was to learn those. Helen (John H.’s sister) then got me some books
with nothing but chords and scales, and those taught me how to combine chords
and go smoothly from one to the other.
Here are Lydia and Caleb in
the hightop Suburban we had 27 years ago. It
had three full bench seats, and we installed
a smaller Jeep seat behind the third seat so there was plenty of room for
everyone. This was taken on one of our
countryside excursions, March 28, 1999.
I sent this picture to Dorcas. I made this dress for her for Christmas of
1998. The bodice was brocade; the
sleeves were taffeta, and the skirt was something silky with sequins all over
it. I made enough dresses with V-shaped
waists, cuffs, etc., that Y-seams in quilts has never seemed too troublesome at
all!
“That’s funny you found this one,” Dorcas responded. “I was trying to tell Todd and the kids about
this dress not long ago. I loved it; it
made me feel like a princess. Brooklyn’s
all into princess dresses and was asking me if I had one growing up so I was
trying to explain this one. 😊”
Those sequins on the skirt made things tricky – well, sticky, to
be precise! I had to keep a bottle of
rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball beside me as I sewed to wipe down the needle
periodically so the poor machine could keep sewing. The glue on the sequins kept gumming things
up. Now and then I had to remove the
bobbin and clean it out with a Q-tip dipped in rubbing alcohol, then oil it
good and proper, run a line of stitching on a scrap so as not to get oil on the
dress, and then launch in again.
Next, I sent these pictures to Victoria, writing, “Here you are in your
flowergirl dress (for Hannah’s wedding) after I cut it shorter so you could
wear it to church.”
Victoria soon answered, “Look what I’m wearing” – and sent a picture of
the necklace she had on right that moment:
it was the very same necklace as the one she has on with the flowergirl
dress. Hannah got it for her.
“I wear it all the time,” she commented.
I should pull that dress out and take better pictures of the pearls on
the bodice. Hannah sewed them on in the
same design that was on her wedding dress, such a beautiful job. All of my pictures of the dress are ‘blow-outs’
– i.e., too bright.
Here’s Caleb’s wife Maria when she was little. Wasn’t she cute?
Friday, I was pleased to turn a page and find these pictures. Recognize this place? It was October, and it was snowing in the
Park. It was fun walking around the
steaming geysers and bubbling pots with sparkling snowflakes falling from a
blue sky with only a few low, puffy clouds, needing only a sweater on account
of the thermal heat.
At 2:30 p.m., I looked out the window and saw that it was all hazy,
especially to the east. I checked the weather,
and was surprised that the temperature had dropped to 12°, with a windchill of 13
below. The wind was blowing at 25 mph, kicking
up the dust that was making it so hazy.
It was so warm here in early January, my irises were confused, and started
sending leaves up.
I sent this photo to Hannah. It
was taken on Easter Sunday, April 4, 1999.
She wrote back, “I told Nathanael, ‘This is when I had a ton of hair.’ He looked me over and assured me that I still
have a good amount. 😄 I’d curled it
overnight with those cushiony satin curlers.”
“Not too reassuring to hear from someone who will go bald,”
remarked Levi, “but I guess it’s better than nothing.” haha
Here are Lydia and Victoria, from the same day. Victoria’s dress is made from pieces of
leftover satin from the bridesmaids’ dresses a friend had made for her wedding.
The front of Lydia’s bodice, between the two pieces of lace and tiny
embroidered flowers, had ¼” tucks from top to bottom – and I twisted them so
they aimed upwards on one side and downwards on the other, with the twist creating
a diagonal line from right shoulder to left side of the waist. The cummerbund was covered with little silk
flowers and loops of pearls.
Someone asked how I keep all my pictures organized. I have a separate folder that corresponds by
number with each of my albums, and I’ve numbered the photos so that they’re in
nearly the same order that the printed pictures in the albums are in.
The digital photos are kept in chronological order, with dated folders
for separate days.
Every picture is labeled (or, if they’re all, for instance, scenery from
a specific location, then I only label the folder, and just number the photos). I can pretty much put a finger on any
particular picture when I want it, even though I have over a third of a million
pictures.
Here’s Hester, on that same Easter Sunday. I sent her the photo, and she remarked on how
she liked that daffodil fabric, because the flowers were flocked (soft and
fuzzy).
Now if only the maid would go organize the cupboard/pantry in the back
hallway!
Here is Joseph with Keith’s cat.
Dorcas sent some pictures of the rolls and potato soup she was
making. “It’s snowing again,” she wrote,
“so we need a warm supper!”
They don’t get snow all that often, living just north of Knoxville. Here’s Todd giving Trevor a boost down the
hill on his sled.
By 4:00 p.m., the skies were sunny again, but the temperature had
dropped a couple of degrees to 10°. With
a 20-mph wind, the windchill was -19°.
Fact of the Day: Great Value’s Peach/Mango green tea is not
Crystal Lite’s Peach/Mango green tea. I needed some peaches and mangos to put in it!
That evening, I scanned this photo from
early October, 1994. I think the caption should be as
follows:
Me: “This.is.your.lamb.”
Caleb: “I.don’t.think.so.” 😂
Victoria sent a video of Carolyn, 8, practicing her violin. She’s doing so well. Her notes are right on tune, or if one isn’t
quite right, she carefully readjusts until it is.
I got about a third of the next album scanned, and stopped to eat some
supper – Panera Bread chicken noodle soup, applesauce, and rice pudding. I had some Breyers pistachio/almond ice cream for
dessert. It’s bitter cold outside;
therefore I eat ice cream.
By 9:00 p.m., it was 2°, on the way down to -5° by 4:00
a.m. The windchill was -11°.
Saturday
morning at 11:30 a.m., it was 10°. I finally
finished playing my way through my very large Christmas notebook – some 400 +/-
songs. Last day of January; last of the
Christmas songs. And the last of the
Gingerbread cold-brewed coffee. My
thermal mug was barely past half full. Time
to make some new cold brew!
I made a gallon of Peppermint Mocha cold brew, but I wouldn’t have any
until Sunday morning. It’s best when it
steeps for 18-24 hours. So when I needed
a refill, I had Starbucks Dark Chocolate Hazelnut cold brew. I don’t like it, much. Homemade cold-brewed coffee is sooo much
better. But I put Italian Sweet Crème
CoffeeMate in it, which improved it considerably.
Victoria sent me a link
to a reel of some Brazilian men playing a beautiful rendition of Walking
with Jesus on a variety of instruments, including trombone, clarinet,
accordion, tuba, and violin.
I accidentally bumped
the scroller on my mouse before the song was done, and wound up watching an AI
squirrel doing some kind of ridiculous jig to an obnoxious ‘tune’ of some
sort.
Now, I understand about
‘algorithms’ based on what my ‘watching habits’ are; but I definitely am not in
the habit of watching squirrels jigging to obnoxious ‘music’, much less AI squirrels.
I scrolled back up and
listened to the rest of the song by the Brazilian musicians, then reported on
the matter to Victoria, just for the fun of it.
She always has something funny to say.
“What in the world 😂 ,” said she. “But
yes, the reels are random. You kind of
build an algorithm based on what you like to watch, but if you never watch
anything you’re stuck with trending nonsense.”
I do watch things:
car/plane/train/truck crashes, people sliding on the ice, fainting
goats, and Kodiak bears catching salmon in Katmai National Park’s Brooks
Falls. Important stuff like that. Well, now and then I also watch somebody
renovating a chateau in France. That’s
important, too, in case I ever decide to buy a tumbledown chateau somewhere,
right? Right.
“Okay,” I replied to Victoria, “I’m going to remember that phrase, ‘I
was stuck with trending nonsense,’ next time I need to defend myself when
something objectionable pops up in my feed on any platform.” 😅
I noticed on my weather app that Miami was issued a ‘Cold Weather
Warning’, as the windchill was liable to go down to 25°.
“Bitter cold is coming!” the weathermen were warning. 😮
How will they survive?! Floridian
children own neither parka nor mukluk!
(Do they?)
Meanwhile in Omaha, the police department was requesting
medics for a female who had her tongue stuck to a pole. Maybe she was from Florida?
I went on scanning photos that day.
Here’s an outtake:
“I wonder what happened here?” I said to Hannah,
sending her the photo.
“I think it was bugs,” she replied. “Joseph was complaining, and the brothers were
probably going to shoo them away.”
She’s probably right. Pirate bugs
are notorious at that time of year.
I had gotten a wide-angle 35mm camera for these
pictures. The concept was nifty... but the camera was a cheapie – at
least, in comparison to my Minolta, it was. I was not happy with the
quality of the pictures, and soon gave it to ... ? Keith, I think.
Larry was glad when I found these pictures in an album from 2001. We’d gone to Elkhart, Indiana, in the
six-door pickup Larry built, pulling a slant-bed trailer with a club cab pickup
on it, and that pickup was also pulling a slant-bed trailer. We were picking up a couple of loads of
enclosed trailers, and we had the six younger children with us. Once we arrived at the enclosed-trailer
dealership, we backed the club cab off the slant-bed and loaded three enclosed
trailers on the longer slant trailer hitched to the club cab, and two on the
shorter slant-bed hitched to the six-door, then hitched an enclosed trailer
behind that slant-bed. (Did you get all that? There will be a quiz.)
We headed home, with me driving the six-door (sometimes sharing the
driving with Teddy) and Larry driving the club cab, which belonged to his uncle
– and the uncle didn’t want anybody but Larry driving it (never mind who had the better
driving record, heh!).
In order to keep the extended frame under that six-door pickup from
sagging (have you ever seen a saggy limo? looks baaaad), he wedged the slightly
narrower frame of a Chevy pickup into the wider frame of the Ford. It was quite the project! He put a Cummins engine in it. That thing would GO. And it drove excellently.
That six-door pickup
made people stare. And then they really
got bug-eyed when I popped out of the driver’s seat – and their eyes
fell clear out of their heads when one kid after another jumped out. We often had all nine with us, for at least a
couple of years after Larry built that thing, up until Keith got married. 😄
Here’s another view of
the truck. Larry was sad to sell it a
few years later. We once drove it in our
town’s Jr. Fire Patrol parade, which was especially for fifth-graders.
The new ‘Professional Series’ (ha!) coffee bean grinder is not nearly as
tough and efficient as the old one, and I seriously doubt if it’s going to be
as durable, either. It takes longer to get the beans ground up (partly
because the blade is closer to the bottom of the cup), and the cup doesn’t hold
as much as the Krups did. By the time I had ground four cups of beans for
the cold brew jug (one more than I had to grind with the old grinder), the
motor was smelling hot. Actually, I noticed it smelling hot by the time I’d
ground the second cupful. I started pulsing it, so it wouldn’t get so
hot.
At 5:30 p.m., I happened to look out the
window. It was snowing like ever’thang!
For supper that evening, Larry cooked some of
his backstrap venison, fast-baking it in the oven at 500°, while I fixed broccoli,
cauliflower, and carrots. We had
apple-peach juice with it.
Backstrap is the most tender part of venison. Larry marinates it overnight, and then with that fast-baking method, turns it into melt-in-your-mouth meat.
After supper, he hurried off to help a friend
fix a snowplow on the front of his pickup, as he needed to use it. There was about 3” of snow on the ground.
It was 16° at 7:45 a.m. Sunday morning, on
the way up to 48° that afternoon.
I filled my mug with Peppermint Mocha cold
brew coffee.
Note to self: Do not get Peppermint
Mocha again. 😝
Here’s our front yard that morning, not long
after sunrise. There are rabbit,
squirrel, cat, raccoon, big and little birds, and man’s boot tracks out there. That’s Autumn Joy sedum, with the cute little
snow caps.
Larry went out to scoop the walk and front porch, and to make sure the
Mercedes would start.
It would not. He hooked up his
chargers, and eventually it started; but we were late to church. We didn’t arrive until they were singing
the second song. Ugh, I don’t like to be
late.
I posted this picture of a Nebraska sunset on my Facebook page and
inadvertently labeled it ‘October 28, 1992’.
Some unknown man named ‘Wayne’
(neither John nor Newton) promptly commented, “It says 1994 on the photo in the
lower right corner.”
Since I was at church, I was not
johnny-on-the-spot to respond and address the issue.
A lady in my friends’ list tried to come to
my defense: “who cares its beautiful” [sic, sic, sic, and sic]
‘Wayne’ (not John, and not Newton),
though he was quite the ol’ eagle-eye when it came to a date typo, apparently
did not notice that that woman was not me, and retorted, “It makes your
information questionable right off the bat.”
Okay, that’s insulting, to think
that other woman was me, never mind whether or not she’s nice (which she
probably is) – because I don’t write without apostrophes and punctuation!
Kidding, kidding. (Sorta.)
Next nice lady: “calm down, it’s probably just a typo.”
‘Wayne’ (neither John nor Newton)
snapped back, “You’ve seen her reply, right?” – which is what tells me he
thought Nice Lady #1 was me.
A very good friend entered the
fracas: “I’m sure it’s a typo. She’s the busiest woman I know, so sometimes
things slip by – she’ll fix it if she sees your comment. Nothing questionable about Sarah Lynn.”
See, it’s worth getting flak, when
it winds up garnering such nice compliments as that!
She then added an aside to me: “(BTW, Wayne Denison would like you to
correct the date on your post to match your photo. ☺️)”
That made me laugh. “Thank you!” I answered, then remarked, “A
photo with the wrong date in the caption is one of my more minor blunders. I once
said to Keith, our oldest, in a good, firm voice, ‘Aleutia! Don’t do that!’ Aleutia was the Siberian husky. The kids burst out laughing, and even Aleutia
herself said, ‘OOOoooAARrrrrrrooOOOOO!’ (as only huskies can do). It’s really hard to work up one’s steam
properly again, after one gets one’s sails that thoroughly deflated.”
I fixed the date on my post, then
answered Wayne Whozit directly: “Thanks
for letting me know! I fixed it. You nearly started World War III – on an old
photo, newly scanned, of a Nebraska sunset! 😂 Everybody behave, now.”
That was nice enough, don’t you
think, and funny, too, right?
Lil Wayne evidently didn’t think so.
“Yeah, was that an innocent mistake,
or was it intentional?” he wrote.
!
Be he a-wantin’ a fight?!
“Intentional, of course,” I told him.
“I was trying to bring the world as we
know it to an end.”
No answer. Not one word!
Hmmph.
Anyway, funny that a person with no
profile picture and no profile and no original posts on his sparse feed would
call me ‘questionable’. His last
post was June 11, 2022, and it’s nothing more than the results of one of those
Facebook ‘click-to-play’ so-called games, this one with the ‘purpose’ of
‘revealing how you intimidate people’.
Huh.
Am I intimidated yet?
>>... checking my
temperature... blood pressure... attitude... << Nope.
Not yet. (I’d block him, but we
might be able to extract a little more fun out of him first. >>evil
sniggle<< )
