Friday we received a box from Larry's aunt full of small presents for the children. We’ve had chickens squawking around, laying eggs and getting their tail feathers stepped on (that’s what it sounds like, anyway, what with all the squeak toys), ever since the package arrived. The littles were pleased with their puppets, and Hester was intrigued with the older children’s bookmarks, since a boy in her class had made her the neatest little wooden flower press, and she’d been wondering what in the world ‘squished’ flowers would look like. The bookmarks were promptly put to good use in new books just received for Christmas.
Last Sunday night during church we had a freezing drizzle, which made the sidewalks and streets positively treacherous. Fortunately, all our friends made it home safely. Larry, of course, immediately thought of something he badly needed at the grocery store--ice cream, of all things. So he and Hannah went off to get it. Arriving home a little later, he said he didn’t think he’d ever driven on roads so slick. He’d even bumped the curb once, an unheard-of occurrence, for him. We, of course, will not soon let him forget that.
We heard, via our scanner, of many car wrecks all over town, and there were even reports of people falling and getting hurt.
One evening, Caleb was eating a slice of ham. He pulled off the edge, and ate it.
“I ate the crust right off my ham!” he remarked.
Later, he was dipping a carrot into the vegetable dip. Hannah, evidently feeling mischievous, quickly gave his hand a small push, causing him to get a bit of dip on his thumb. Caleb was amazed. This sister of his is usually so helpful!
“Hannah!”
He licked off his thumb, and sat crunching his carrot, smiling at her, until she, unsuspectingly, dipped her carrot.
Quicker’n a wink, SQUISH! He pushed her hand down suddenly until every single knuckle was covered with dip.
Hannah was amazed. “Caleb!” she gasped.
He giggled.
Joseph came into the room just then.
“Look what Caleb did to me!” exclaimed Hannah, holding out her hand for Joseph to see.
Joseph, surprised, asked Caleb, “Why’d you do that?”
Caleb answered in typical four-year-old non sequitur, “Because she was dipping her carrot.”
Hannah laughed. “Why else?” she asked her little brother.
Caleb, of course, then realized what the correct reply was. In triumphant tone, he replied, “Because she did it to me!!”
Everybody went on munching their carrots.
Then, smiling at his sister, Caleb told her, “I like you, Hannah!--you’re lots of fun!”
The first several days this week were spent in intense cleaning of the house. By the time the Jackson/Jenkinson/Wright/Fricke/Haddock tribe arrived, everything was neatly in place, glistening brightly. But let me tell you this: Scrub-Free ... isn’t.
The house still looks remarkably shiny, but there is quite a clutter of new stuff and things everywhere you look.
Monday night we had our last Christmas practice. Larry intended to return to the shop later to finish painting the red and white crewcab, but he got the flu. So, the next day, when the man who’d bought it was ready to go to Florida, the crewcab wasn’t quite done. The man didn’t mind, since that gave Larry time to do a few more things the man would’ve liked done; but we minded, because the man won’t be back until the end of January, and we won’t get our money until then. Too bad; we certainly could’ve used it.
Tuesday we went to Omaha to get Joseph some new glasses; his old ones were quite worn out. Also, he needed a new prescription. The doctor there at Lens Crafters gave him a checkup, and discovered his old glasses were two points too strong for him, meaning his eyes have improved. Far-sighted children often continue to see an improvement in their eyesight until well into their teens; Hannah’s eyes have improved quite a bit, also.
Later that evening, Joseph had a headache and was dizzy; fortunately, he’d gotten used to the new glasses by the next day.
Lens Crafters makes glasses in an hour; so, while they were being made, we wandered around the enormous mall, rode the elevator up to the atrium, and ordered food from Arby’s in the food court.
Going back downstairs, we met up with my nephew and his little boy. It always makes me feel surprised when we meet friends in those giant labyrinths; but it seems like that happens nearly every time we’re there.
We watched a man air-painting T-shirts, which he did lickety-split and with great skill.
There doesn’t seem to be much in the mall that we can afford to buy. So, after getting the glasses, we departed, having a great deal of trouble just getting out of the parking lot, due to the volume of people and vehicles.
Rounding the end of one aisle, we met up with an old dilapidated jalopy, full of people, trying to back out, and having the devil’s own time doing so. The brakes seemed to be hair-triggered, along with the accelerator, while the steering seemed to be non-existent. Or maybe the driver had never driven before.
They jerked backward in fits and starts, with the driver cranking on the wheel with all his might and main, nearly bashing in the sides of the cars beside them, periodically jamming on the brakes with such force that their old boat rocked violently to and fro. Finally finding himself in the aisle, the driver put the vehicle in drive, whereupon it took a sudden wild leap directly toward us, causing Larry to shift posthaste into reverse.
Larry, meanwhile, was keeping us all entertained with his running commentary.
Zooming backwards, he exclaimed, “Woooo, man! Don’t you worry none, man! We’s a-gettin’ right outa yo’ way, man!”
I tell you, he sounded so utterly hilarious, I laughed till the tears ran down my face.
Leaving Omaha, we traveled to Fremont, where we hunted fruitlessly in Payless and Wal-Mart for new red shoes for Lydia. She wound up wearing some hand-me-downs which had been through five little girls before her. Oh, well; they still looked cute, all shiny red with little bows on the toes.
At Wal-Mart, we got, among other things, two 50-gallon Rubbermaid bins with big lids for some of the children’s too-small clothes which the littler ones haven’t yet grown into. We mustn’t get rid of them, you know, because we’ll need them before we know it. But, mercy!--this house is full! Larry got a couple of racks on wheels on which we are able to hang a lot of clothes, which will help the general state of several of our too-crammed closets. We slide these racks between the permanent long rods Larry put up in the ‘shelf room’ downstairs; then, when we need to walk between the rods full of clothes, we can simply roll the racks out of the way. One way or a-tuther, we’ll fit ourselves (and all our mountains of stuff) into this house!
A friend of ours works at a place where they all wear identical shirts. These shirts are regularly sent off to the cleaners, then returned with new hangers, which the workers are welcome to keep. But most of them toss the hangers into a pile to be discarded of. So, our friend collects sacks full of them for us every now and then. Our hangers do not seem to have the same prowess of Erma Bombeck’s, which multiplied celeritously every time she closed the closet door.
Another thing we got at Wal-Mart was a set of ping-pong paddles and balls. Thursday evening when the Jackson bunch congregated, Larry backed the vehicles out of the garage and set up our ping pong table. Someone else brought their ping pong table, too, so a couple of rip-roaring ping pong games were going on most all evening.
After everybody departed, Larry and I played ping-pong with the children; and after sending them to bed, Larry and I had several fierce duels with each other. I actually beat him!--twice! (I’m not telling how many times he beat me.)
At the Fremont Wal-Mart, I met a woman, with her husband, with whom I’d gone to school, and whom I had not seen for twenty years. We had quite a nice visit.
On the way home, we were admiring Christmas decorations.
Caleb, sitting beside me, abruptly pointed at a brightly-lit house, exclaiming, “Look at that--”
––and right that minute, somebody turned all the lights off.
“Aaaaa!” I cried. “You pointed those lights right off!”
Of course, all the rest of the way home, he pointed vigorously at every lit house we came to, trying to prove he hadn’t caused those lights to go off.
“You missed them,” I explained. “Somewhere, up on that hill behind them, some people are scurrying around their house, trying to figure out why their lights went off!!”
“Hee hee hee,” giggled Caleb.
Tuesday night I made the program copies, about 125 of them. It takes longer than you’d think, trying to fit it all on the page just right. I didn’t get it even, either.
Victoria is crawling like a trooper. She sallied under the piano, turned around to see where everybody was, but didn’t see anyone; so she yelled, “HEY!” She’s a vocal one, all right.
On Christmas eve, it snowed several inches, just right to make everything look Christmasy and pretty. The program was Wednesday night; it lasted an hour and thirty-five minutes. I find it difficult to keep it short enough, there are so many children. It all went well, and the audience seemed to enjoy it. Afterwards, the young people passed out all the presents, which takes an awfully long time, there are so many.
After coming home from the program, Caleb was playing with a new little car. The motor made noise, but the wheels wouldn’t turn.
“That’s because it’s in neutral,” explained Caleb.
We usually have a get-together with my side of the family after the program; but there are five new babies in the family, and my brother is not a late-night person; so we re-scheduled for Friday night. But we let the children (our children, that is) open their presents from us Wednesday night.
Larry gave me my favorite present of all--an electric blanket. It has dual controls, and sensors here and there to detect if your feet, for example, are cold, whereupon it sends more warmth to that area. It’s light blue, and soft as a cloud. Sure and wouldn’t you know it, we got the controls switched around; so the first night when we climbed into bed, Larry’s side was piping hot, which he positively does not need; and my side was still cold.
One of the funniest Christmas presents we have in the house is Joseph’s new watch/virtual pet, which Larry and I gave him. It started out a puppy, and only his face could be seen on the liquid crystal display screen. But after a couple of days, during which Joseph cared for it diligently, the pup turned a year old, gained several pounds, and, much to our surprise, turned from only the head of the pup to the entire dog. He now paces back and forth across the screen, unless he’s sleeping, tail a-wag.
Joseph, after going to bed very late Christmas Eve, was awakened by his pup crying in the middle of the night--it needed to 'go out'. Joseph pushed the proper buttons to let it ‘out’, whereupon it did its duty. A small ‘mess’ appeared in the corner, steam marks and all; and Joseph was required to ‘clean’ it up before the watch would quit beeping and let him go back to sleep.
Saturday night Joseph slept through the puppy’s ‘crying’, and, by Sunday morning, the poor little critter had lost 25 kilograms! The dog must be played with periodically--there are several games which can be played--or the row of hearts on one particular screen start to empty, showing that the poor thing isn’t being properly loved. Also, he must be fed, watered, and given treats occasionally. Today Teddy gave him three milk bones and six pieces of jerky, after which the pitiable thing suddenly made an awful face, opened his mouth wide, and threw up. Joseph not only had to clean that up, but he also had to give it medicine, which is administered with a syringe. Doggy was really sick. (But he did gain three pounds.)
Sometimes Joseph tries to give it dog food when Pooch isn’t hungry; the creature turns his back to the bowl and shakes his head. After staying awake, with a short nap sometimes, for about twelve hours, the virtual canine retires to his dog house, where a ‘Z’ is soon issuing from the peak. He stays there overnight (unless he gets sick or something), for about twelve hours.
Joseph is now trying to teach Puppy Dear to sit. Sometimes he obeys; sometimes he doesn’t. But he’s definitely getting better! We have all found this positively intriguing. I’ve even offered to dogsit for Rover when Joseph returns to school next Monday.
Have I taken leave of my senses??
Christmas day, we had our usual dinner at church. Just as soon as people are done eating, I like to take pictures, which I then give them next Christmas. I took several rolls, mostly of the children, and I got oodles of cute photos.
In spite of giving us that stove, Lawrence and Norma gave me two albums and six rolls of Fuji film; and they gave Larry a 30-piece set of Craftsman screwdrivers. They gave Hester and Lydia beautiful porcelain dolls, and they gave clothes to most of the other children. And to Teddy (!)--they gave a 16-inch scroll saw! He’s tickled pink. He’s already carved Caleb a name plaque, and is working on one for himself.
My sister and her husband gave Hester a tape player, and Lydia a little ornate bench, chair, and table for her dolls. They gave Victoria several dresses, a robe, and a little white hat with marabou around the brim. She looks like a little dolly in it.
When we went to my mother’s house to exchange gifts, Victoria was very sleepy.
I opened up a package with two quilted bibs in it, and she said gladly, “Bankie!” (blanket)
She snatched one, rubbed it on her cheek, and promptly fell sound asleep, sitting bolt upright. She was ten months old on the 24th; isn’t that hard to believe?
Saturday afternoon we went to Wal-Mart looking for after-Christmas bargains, but the shelves were nearly bare. Leaving empty-handed, we headed for Walgreens. I found a shelf full of little Christmas ornaments and key rings, with characters such as Bugs Bunny, Mickey Mouse, etc., for half price. We bought a whole bag full for the children to give their friends next Christmas. We’d just about decided there were no wrapping paper nor Christmas cards, when Dorcas found it, high on a shelf, nearly out of sight. It was all half price. I filled the cart clear full.
Tonight we are going to Grand Island to look at some elaborate Christmas displays before they take them all down. So I’d better get myself in gear! It’s suppertime, and Victoria is probably awake by now.
Monday, December 29, 1997
Sunday, December 21, 1997
Sunday, December 21, 1997...Christmas Time's A-Comin'
Well, in between coping with the December flu and cold bugs, we’ve managed to finish the necessary Christmas sewing, shopping, and wrapping. The house cleaning is progressing somewhat slowly, since several audacious members of this household have the offensive habit of cluttering those areas which have been recently tidied. Also, they refuse to run around in their skin until Christmas, so as to cut down on the laundry. (Well, I thought it sounded like a good idea.)
Furthermore, they expect the same amount of food--if not more--as usual, regardless of whether or not I think I have time to cook it. Why can’t everybody put all their necessities on hold until I get done with all my necessities?!
Oh, I don’t really feel that way. I still like all these people in this house pretty well, even if they do eat bushels of food every day. Even if they do wear heaps of clothes every day. Even if they do need help with their homework every day.
That’s another thing: it seems to me that accumulations in the children’s homework have a direct correlation to increases in my homework--so I wind up helping them, rather than the other way around.
First, Hannah, having missed several days of school, needed help with a composition to be comprised of their recent vocabulary words. The teacher told them they could put it in poetry form if they liked. As they say in Ireland, that’s right up my street; so I stopped with the dusting and got on with the rhyming.
The following day, Keith, having seen Hannah’s poem, pulled out his list of vocabulary words, which was even more difficult than Hannah’s, held it in front of my nose, and made a sad Cocker Spaniel face.
“Oh, all right,” I said, and snatched it out of his hand.
After all, he is rather swamped with his last few Accounting workbooks, which must be done by January 7, when he graduates.
Anyway, I done ’em. And I’m so proud of myself, I’ll print them here for you. Here is Hannah’s:
Marching to School
Marching to school in vivacious manner,
Holding aloft the didactic banner,
I find myself preoccupied
With a dilemma that has me horrified.
Of paramount concern, you see,
Is my impending jeopardy
In the inherently cruel and hard
Exam on Sir Girard.
Though diligently the facts I glean,
Deploring his doleful mien,
I know my teacher accentuates
The details my brain eradicates.
For with an adeptness quite expected
My teacher, so respected,
Appraises my head’s grayish fluff
To be sure the test is hard enough.
With inveterate courage I pick up my pen,
To write about places and races and men;
The exercise I can’t disparage;
It gives me a great advantage!
The implicit function of all this testing,
Although infringing upon my resting,
Is that I might more magnanimous be,
Noble in mind and conscience-free!
Here is Keith’s:
A Collection of Wits
Collecting my wits, I tackle with gravity
A task I must not approach with levity;
For my inestimable teacher did this week assign
A truculent toil (of which I won’t whine).
Although sorely subjugated by this chore,
I refuse to be annihilated in the war;
So, pitching a bivouac and digging in tight,
I attempt to alleviate my bogged-down plight.
With sharpened acumen, and pencil tip, too,
I aggravate friends and make enemies anew;
My neighbors who sit in nearest proximity
Feel the effects of impending antiquity.
My loquacious manner, which vexes my pals,
Makes taciturn mollusks amend their locales;
Fearing reprisal, should my good grades languish,
I assuage the inevitable, which lessens my anguish.
With diurnal diligence and industry unflagging,
I work till my eyelids with fatigue are a-sagging;
The literary atrocities I often make
Will not with impunity produce a mistake.
Becoming nocturnal before this job’s done,
Nevertheless, it’s been lots of fun;
But if this assignment should come through again,
Think it not strange if my brain’s in a spin!
Tuesday evening we were driving along, looking at Christmas decorations. I made a derogatory remark about Santa Claus; Larry then made a disparaging remark about Rudolph. Caleb peered gravely out the window.
“We need to field dress him,” he said seriously.
One of my nephews once informed a kindergarten classmate that Santa Claus was not real--whereupon she promptly slapped him good and proper.
One day I sent Dorcas into my closet for two of Caleb’s toys which needed to be wrapped. She came back out--with two white boxes which contained her own two presents--a porcelain boy and girl in Americana attire, the boy with a baseball cap, leather mitt and ball--which I’d gotten last spring and had long forgotten. Luckily, she didn’t look.
Lawrence and Norma have already given us our Christmas present--and guess what it is? A stove! With a wonderful convection oven in which one can bake six trays of cookies at once! A fan circulates the air to ensure even baking. We baked two giant trays of apple flautas Wednesday, and every last flauta baked golden brown and perfect--an impossible feat in my old oven. Thursday we baked a large frozen ham--a Christmas gift from one of our customers--using the oven’s probe. On the liquid crystal display panel, the meat’s interior temperature is displayed. When it arrives at the desired temperature, which you preset, it beeps and turns off. The range top is flat glass. The large burner can be switched to ‘small’, and between the two burners on the left is a ‘bridge’ burner, which makes our griddle cook perfectly even. When the burner on the right is left on the ‘large’ setting, and the back burner turned on, our other griddle heats evenly, too.
Quite a wonderful Christmas present, don’t you think?
Victoria is crawling more and more. She likes to turn off lights.
We howl, “Hey! Don’t turn off those lights!”
She squeals--and turns them off again.
We cry, “Hey! Did you turn off those lights?!”
We tire of the game long before she does.
One day she flipped the switch down again, looked around smiling--but we were all busy doing something else.
So she yelled, “Hey! Doo toon off ’ights?!”
Friday afternoon I took pictures of some friends' well-loved dog. They didn’t turn out too badly, although the dog was quite timid about having his picture taken. Dogs can tell when a person likes them, however; and that helps immensely. The lady wanted to give her husband an 8x10 portrait of the dog for Christmas.
That night after Christmas practice, and after everybody else went to bed, Hannah and I went shopping at Wal-Mart for the rest of our presents. I got Larry a gold Elgin watch and a chrome Cross pen to replace one he once received from my sister and her husband which got accidentally flushed down the loo, a decidedly disheartening development. I also got him a Parker, teal and silver. He likes nice pens.
You know what? It takes a long time to wrap lots of presents!
I got Joseph an autograph album with a picture of Golden Retriever puppies on the front. Still in good rhyming form, I wrote the following into the album:
Life’s Long Journey
Throughout life’s long journey,
And wherever you go,
May you hold fast to Jesus,
Who loves you so.
May you know you’ve a mother
Who oft breathes a prayer
That you might be kept
In the Lord’s tender care.
Let this mind be in you,
To be loving and kind;
Always caring for others,
That their needs you might find.
May you rejoice in the Lord;
May you shine as a light;
Counting all things but loss
For the excellency of right.
Whatever is pure,
And honest and true,
Think on these things;
And those things, do.
For then you’ll be happy,
And the Lord will be near;
He’ll supply all your need,
And your prayer He will hear!
Last night Larry cut the boys’ hair. Clip clip, buzz buzz ---
“Ooops!” said Larry to Teddy, having cut around his ear, ”I just gave you a ’97 Dodge wheel well!” to which Teddy replied with a resigned shrug, “As long as it’s not an Edsel,” and Caleb asked, “Who’s him?”
“He,” I amended.
Caleb raised his eyebrows. “Teddy’s not a he?”
Confusinger and confusinger.
Later, I took a good look at a small mole under Joseph’s ear.
Joseph asked, “Are all moles bad?”
All eyes rolled expectantly my direction.
So as not to disappoint them, I answered, “It all depends on how much of your lawn they tear up.”
I had some pictures of Victoria printed. When she saw one with her tongue out, she laughed and squealed--and stuck her tongue out.
I hope you have an enjoyable Christmas!
Furthermore, they expect the same amount of food--if not more--as usual, regardless of whether or not I think I have time to cook it. Why can’t everybody put all their necessities on hold until I get done with all my necessities?!
Oh, I don’t really feel that way. I still like all these people in this house pretty well, even if they do eat bushels of food every day. Even if they do wear heaps of clothes every day. Even if they do need help with their homework every day.
That’s another thing: it seems to me that accumulations in the children’s homework have a direct correlation to increases in my homework--so I wind up helping them, rather than the other way around.
First, Hannah, having missed several days of school, needed help with a composition to be comprised of their recent vocabulary words. The teacher told them they could put it in poetry form if they liked. As they say in Ireland, that’s right up my street; so I stopped with the dusting and got on with the rhyming.
The following day, Keith, having seen Hannah’s poem, pulled out his list of vocabulary words, which was even more difficult than Hannah’s, held it in front of my nose, and made a sad Cocker Spaniel face.
“Oh, all right,” I said, and snatched it out of his hand.
After all, he is rather swamped with his last few Accounting workbooks, which must be done by January 7, when he graduates.
Anyway, I done ’em. And I’m so proud of myself, I’ll print them here for you. Here is Hannah’s:
Marching to School
Marching to school in vivacious manner,
Holding aloft the didactic banner,
I find myself preoccupied
With a dilemma that has me horrified.
Of paramount concern, you see,
Is my impending jeopardy
In the inherently cruel and hard
Exam on Sir Girard.
Though diligently the facts I glean,
Deploring his doleful mien,
I know my teacher accentuates
The details my brain eradicates.
For with an adeptness quite expected
My teacher, so respected,
Appraises my head’s grayish fluff
To be sure the test is hard enough.
With inveterate courage I pick up my pen,
To write about places and races and men;
The exercise I can’t disparage;
It gives me a great advantage!
The implicit function of all this testing,
Although infringing upon my resting,
Is that I might more magnanimous be,
Noble in mind and conscience-free!
Here is Keith’s:
A Collection of Wits
Collecting my wits, I tackle with gravity
A task I must not approach with levity;
For my inestimable teacher did this week assign
A truculent toil (of which I won’t whine).
Although sorely subjugated by this chore,
I refuse to be annihilated in the war;
So, pitching a bivouac and digging in tight,
I attempt to alleviate my bogged-down plight.
With sharpened acumen, and pencil tip, too,
I aggravate friends and make enemies anew;
My neighbors who sit in nearest proximity
Feel the effects of impending antiquity.
My loquacious manner, which vexes my pals,
Makes taciturn mollusks amend their locales;
Fearing reprisal, should my good grades languish,
I assuage the inevitable, which lessens my anguish.
With diurnal diligence and industry unflagging,
I work till my eyelids with fatigue are a-sagging;
The literary atrocities I often make
Will not with impunity produce a mistake.
Becoming nocturnal before this job’s done,
Nevertheless, it’s been lots of fun;
But if this assignment should come through again,
Think it not strange if my brain’s in a spin!
Tuesday evening we were driving along, looking at Christmas decorations. I made a derogatory remark about Santa Claus; Larry then made a disparaging remark about Rudolph. Caleb peered gravely out the window.
“We need to field dress him,” he said seriously.
One of my nephews once informed a kindergarten classmate that Santa Claus was not real--whereupon she promptly slapped him good and proper.
One day I sent Dorcas into my closet for two of Caleb’s toys which needed to be wrapped. She came back out--with two white boxes which contained her own two presents--a porcelain boy and girl in Americana attire, the boy with a baseball cap, leather mitt and ball--which I’d gotten last spring and had long forgotten. Luckily, she didn’t look.
Lawrence and Norma have already given us our Christmas present--and guess what it is? A stove! With a wonderful convection oven in which one can bake six trays of cookies at once! A fan circulates the air to ensure even baking. We baked two giant trays of apple flautas Wednesday, and every last flauta baked golden brown and perfect--an impossible feat in my old oven. Thursday we baked a large frozen ham--a Christmas gift from one of our customers--using the oven’s probe. On the liquid crystal display panel, the meat’s interior temperature is displayed. When it arrives at the desired temperature, which you preset, it beeps and turns off. The range top is flat glass. The large burner can be switched to ‘small’, and between the two burners on the left is a ‘bridge’ burner, which makes our griddle cook perfectly even. When the burner on the right is left on the ‘large’ setting, and the back burner turned on, our other griddle heats evenly, too.
Quite a wonderful Christmas present, don’t you think?
Victoria is crawling more and more. She likes to turn off lights.
We howl, “Hey! Don’t turn off those lights!”
She squeals--and turns them off again.
We cry, “Hey! Did you turn off those lights?!”
We tire of the game long before she does.
One day she flipped the switch down again, looked around smiling--but we were all busy doing something else.
So she yelled, “Hey! Doo toon off ’ights?!”
Friday afternoon I took pictures of some friends' well-loved dog. They didn’t turn out too badly, although the dog was quite timid about having his picture taken. Dogs can tell when a person likes them, however; and that helps immensely. The lady wanted to give her husband an 8x10 portrait of the dog for Christmas.
That night after Christmas practice, and after everybody else went to bed, Hannah and I went shopping at Wal-Mart for the rest of our presents. I got Larry a gold Elgin watch and a chrome Cross pen to replace one he once received from my sister and her husband which got accidentally flushed down the loo, a decidedly disheartening development. I also got him a Parker, teal and silver. He likes nice pens.
You know what? It takes a long time to wrap lots of presents!
I got Joseph an autograph album with a picture of Golden Retriever puppies on the front. Still in good rhyming form, I wrote the following into the album:
Life’s Long Journey
Throughout life’s long journey,
And wherever you go,
May you hold fast to Jesus,
Who loves you so.
May you know you’ve a mother
Who oft breathes a prayer
That you might be kept
In the Lord’s tender care.
Let this mind be in you,
To be loving and kind;
Always caring for others,
That their needs you might find.
May you rejoice in the Lord;
May you shine as a light;
Counting all things but loss
For the excellency of right.
Whatever is pure,
And honest and true,
Think on these things;
And those things, do.
For then you’ll be happy,
And the Lord will be near;
He’ll supply all your need,
And your prayer He will hear!
Last night Larry cut the boys’ hair. Clip clip, buzz buzz ---
“Ooops!” said Larry to Teddy, having cut around his ear, ”I just gave you a ’97 Dodge wheel well!” to which Teddy replied with a resigned shrug, “As long as it’s not an Edsel,” and Caleb asked, “Who’s him?”
“He,” I amended.
Caleb raised his eyebrows. “Teddy’s not a he?”
Confusinger and confusinger.
Later, I took a good look at a small mole under Joseph’s ear.
Joseph asked, “Are all moles bad?”
All eyes rolled expectantly my direction.
So as not to disappoint them, I answered, “It all depends on how much of your lawn they tear up.”
I had some pictures of Victoria printed. When she saw one with her tongue out, she laughed and squealed--and stuck her tongue out.
I hope you have an enjoyable Christmas!
Sunday, December 14, 1997
Sunday, December 14, 1997...Shopping & Wrapping
Last week a friend of ours gave the little girls an early Christmas present--a big Christmas activity book. They promptly used one of the book’s recipes to make cookies with some animal cookie cutters of Hannah’s, and iced them with colored, almond-flavored frosting. On the other side of the table sat Caleb, painting with tempera paints. By the time the cookies and the paintings were done, Caleb’s face and shirt looked every bit as fancy as the girls’ cookies.
Next, they followed the directions for making a large card for Lawrence
Joseph won the geography bee at school, receiving a medal and a certificate for his efforts. He has taken a written test to determine if he is eligible for the state contest.
“Staw!” she exclaims.
Wednesday we went to Wal-Mart and got some presents for my mother to give the children. It’s gotten to be a tradition, I think--every year they look forward to new pajamas or nightgowns from Grandma Swiney. I got printed flannel pajamas for Keith and Teddy, knit pajamas with ‘Green Bay Packers’ on the front for Joseph, a sleeper for Caleb with a big Dalmation on the front and separate ‘paw’ footies, soft plaid ruffly nightgowns for Hester and Lydia, Lydia’s with teddy bears printed on it, and sweatshirt-type nightgowns for Hannah and Dorcas. On the front are Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet appliques. Dorcas’ says, ‘You make me feel cuddly.’ Hannah’s says, ‘You’re All Heart.’ For Victoria, who has enough sleepers, I got a pink sweater with an attached vest. There are furry white kittens appliqued on both side fronts of the sweater, and a bigger kitten in the middle front of the vest. It’s so cute.
Mama was pleased with all the purchases.
Shortly after arriving home, we heard on our scanner that somebody had hit a deer, so we decided to try our luck at getting this one. And we got it. It was a very small one, a ‘button’ buck. We wound up with one rump roast. We had it for supper the next night, and it was very good. I, however, had a bad case of Turned Stomach from the knowledge of the circumstances of said roast; so, after a couple of bites, I unobtrusively slid the rest of my piece onto the plates beside me.
After sending the children off to bed Wednesday night, Larry helped me carry the four boxes of Christmas notebooks from the church music room into the school library, where I spread them out all over the tables so I could put the ‘inserts’ in them--the papers telling the children whose poem or verses comes when, and what song goes where. Larry then went off to the shop to paint a vehicle…without telling me he’d locked the school doors from the outside. I started the copier going, then decided I had just enough time to run home and get my industrial-strength three-hole paper punch and some tape.
Leaving the keys on a table, I trotted out the door. It swung shut gently behind me.
And then I heard that ominous ‘click’---as it locked itself.
Now what would I do? I was locked out. It was 1:30 A.M. All the other people who have keys were sound asleep. All the doors have dead bolts. The windows have special tamper-resistant locks. And our other set of keys had been lost for a millennium or more.
I debated creeping into my mother’s house to get her keys, but I was afraid she’d wake up, hear me, and have a heart attack or something. I hunted through all the coat pockets for the second set of keys. Nothing.
I called Larry, who came home from the shop to help me look for them, or hunt for an unlocked window. Finally, some forty minutes later, Larry found them: they were in an old coat of Teddy’s which was hanging on a peg in the garage.
So, after a lengthy delay, I was back in business. Larry finished painting long before I finished with the inserts, so he came to the school, made a pillow of his coat, stretched out on the carpet, and went sound asleep. I got done shortly after 6:00 A.M. We put the notebooks away and rushed home before some early-arriving teacher found us still there.
Whew! I tell you, it takes some mighty fast sleeping to get enough, after using up that much of the night.
Thursday evening Barbara (Lawrence Lawrence Victoria
Hannah is now crocheting a white/pastel vest for Hester for Easter. Dorcas finished the little girls’ collars and started a cadet blue/mauve afghan for her teacher. I finished Lydia
I typed up the program, and it is ready to print onto the pretty program papers we pass out to the audience. Bookwork took up a good part of one day, and it likely will tomorrow, too.
Another dozen presents are wrapped, and I’ve only got about a dozen more to go. When each of nine children give gifts to about a dozen children their age, and Larry and I give gifts to each of our friends, and I give each of the children in Jr. Choir a present, and then we add in all the relatives, that constitutes a lengthy list! But it’s fun.
Many gifts are well under $1, which is how we manage to include so many people. I ordered click-pencils, lead refills, and retractable ‘Uni-Gel’ pens for all the boys in my Jr. Choir. I got them from ‘Reliable Office Source’ magazine, where, because we own a business, we get a substantial discount. And when one orders in quantity, the discount increases. So I paid about $1.50 for each pencil/refill tube/pen gift. And, judging by how well Teddy and Joseph like such things, I think those boys will also like them.
Christmas practice went well Friday night, but I’m a little worried about the length of it; it took over two hours to get through it. Of course, we went over many of the songs more than once, and I had some of the smaller children say their poems twice. One and a half hours, I think, is plenty long for a Christmas program. I hope it’s not much longer than that--everybody will start helping themselves to the sacks of nuts and candy and apples and oranges waiting to be passed out at the back of the church!
Now I’d better finish Hester’s dress. Next, I’d better clean this messy house--we’ve invited the Jackson/Fricke/Jenkinson/Wright/Haddock tribe to come exchange gifts Christmas evening after our church dinner. And it looks like I’m going to need a bulldozer, or, at the very least, a front-end loader, to get this place cleared out.
Monday, December 8, 1997
Monday, December 8, 1997...Christmas Lights
Lydia’s dress is now done; Hannah finished her sparkly crocheted rose and leaf appliques; and I sewed them on. That done, everybody dressed in their best Christmas duds and, yesterday afternoon, I took the Christmas pictures. We rushed them off to the one-hour developing center at Wal-Mart. Now we’ve chosen our favorite and will order the reprints and enlargements tomorrow. That’s one of my favorite Christmas jobs. Trouble is, we need more wall space on which to hang all these 11x14’s!
At the end of the photography session, Teddy, rubbing at his cheeks, queried, “Have we smiled the clouds away yet?” (Those are the words of a dumb song of which I am not particularly fond, which he well knows.)
Saturday I started sewing Hester and Lydia’s Christmas dinner dresses; they are about half done, so I’m hopeful I’ll be able to complete everything, after all. Two days last week were taken up doing bookwork, and one afternoon we took Hannah and Joseph to the doctor. They both had acquired bad colds, and every time Hannah gets a cold, it triggers a bout with asthma. They are still under the weather, and seberal ub da rest ub us are in barious stages ub da same code, I think.
Tuesday morning, Larry left for Guthrie, Oklahoma, where he got a pickup for one of our customers. (Or, as Caleb said, “He picked up a pickup! He’s pickin’ up a pickinup! Pickin’ a pickup up! hahahahahaha”)
At 1:30 A.M. Wednesday morning, I called him on his cellular phone to inform him that I80 and other secondary roads in southeast Nebraska were totally ice-covered, and semis were littering the ditches, and several were tipped over. He was just approaching Concordia, Kansas, and it was sleeting and the roads were getting slick. But the crewcab is sure-footed, especially so because it is a dually, and that big loaded trailer gave it even more traction. When Larry arrived home about 6:00 A.M., he said he had seen many cars and trucks slipping and sliding all over the road; but his rig never skidded once.
Tuesday Keith put our Christmas lights up on the eaves, porch railing, and around the door frame and garage door of our house. He even put lights on our little blue spruce in the front yard. It looks quite cute.
Friday we scooted furniture around, scratched our heads, scooted furniture this way and that, scratched our heads, scooted it back again, (on and on, ad infinitum), until finally we put the big chair in the front hallway, where it fits just fine if you don’t mind barking your shins on it every time you come around the corner and forget it’s there. We put the love seat in the corner beside the hearth, where it works just fine as long as you’re an amputee (or less than four feet tall); and we slid the smaller computer desk farther into the corner, where it functions just fine so long as you didn’t put something you needed into the now-covered-up cubbyhole on the side of it. By the end of this exercise, we had turned up a small gap in furniture right in front of the window.
Deeming this gap wide enough, we snatched up our Christmas tree and ran headlong into the living room, where we set it up as fast as ever we could, before the over-abundance of furniture began encroaching upon our designated tree location. I’m telling you, we have enough stuff in this house to fill up the Chateau d’Wintertuk, we do!
Well, the littles promptly went to hanging decorations, exclaiming delightedly over forgotten treasures and little works of art they and the older children have created throughout the years. Directly I noticed that the preponderance of ornaments were hanging heavily on the bottom half of the tree; so I recruited the older children to hang the remainder up on top, where the littles couldn’t reach. So, once again, our well-liked tree is up and twinkling merrily. There is no rhyme nor reason to the array, no correlating theme throughout, neither elegance nor excellence--and we want it just that way.
A friend of ours gave us a gigantic wreath with ribbons and trim and pine cones and such like. Teddy hung it outside, near our front door. Keith put little lights around it, and it’s really pretty. After that, he trotted next door and helped my brother-in-law put up his lights.
People are already giving us Christmas presents: one family brought us a turkey; Keith’s boss’s wife, one afternoon while Keith was at work, loaded his pickup with many bags of groceries.
Lawrence’s birthday is Friday; we got him a clock. It has a different bird painted on the face for each hour; and, on the hour, it tweets that particular bird call--a genuine recording. A sensor turns it off at night.
Saturday Keith spent the day cleaning up our yard--raking, taking out dried flowers, trimming shrubbery, and pruning the trees near the alley. Reckon our persnickety neighbor will like us better now? (Actually, she’s nice enough; it’s just that people who can’t abide the smallest leaf on their lawn shouldn’t live next to us.) One day this fall I spotted my sister out pulling weeds from her flower bed.
I marched right over there and informed her, “My CountRy magazine says that a good neighbor is one who doesn’t make his yard look better than yours.”
She laughed. And kept right on pulling weeds.
My mother decided Keith needed his Christmas present now; so she gave my brother some money and sent him off to get Keith an insulated pair of Redwing boots, a velour-lined sweat jacket with hood, a Carhart coat, and thick Redwing socks. Even though the temperature Saturday was below 20°, Keith stayed warm all day long.
Dorcas finished the blanket she was crocheting for my nephew’s new baby; enclosed is a picture of it. That blanket represents hours and hours of work. Now she is making ruffled collars for Hester and Lydia for Christmas.
Lawrence and Norma bought our van Friday. Saturday night they came to get it, and to sign some papers, and they brought us a pumpkin pie. MMMmmmm...
Yesterday I stayed home from church with Victoria (and Hannah and Joseph), who has caught that cold we are all getting.
When Caleb came marching in the door after church, he advised me, “We just had Sunday School; we didn’t get to open presents yet.”
When he arrived home from Christmas practice Friday night, he informed Larry, “We just had practice; we didn’t get to open presents yet.”
S’pose I need to lecture the little mercenary on the deeper significance of Christmas?
Our Wal-Mart store is now open for 24 hours a day--until Christmas, that is. This is just dandy--exactly what a late-night oil burner like me needs. Just the other night as I was sewing away, I had the deflating experience of running out of matching thread. And it had to match; the stitching was right on top.
“Aarrgghh!” says me. “Now, why didn’t I get more.....HEY! Wal-Mart’s open!”
So I dashed off and replenished several of my sewing supplies.
Saturday afternoon Nebraska played Texas A&M in the Astrodome at Houston. We won 54-15. Along about halfway through the game, the Nebraska fans started throwing oranges down onto the field every time the Huskers made another touchdown--because they’ll be going to the Orange Bowl, having won every game they played.
And now I’d better get back to my sewing machine.
At the end of the photography session, Teddy, rubbing at his cheeks, queried, “Have we smiled the clouds away yet?” (Those are the words of a dumb song of which I am not particularly fond, which he well knows.)
Saturday I started sewing Hester and Lydia’s Christmas dinner dresses; they are about half done, so I’m hopeful I’ll be able to complete everything, after all. Two days last week were taken up doing bookwork, and one afternoon we took Hannah and Joseph to the doctor. They both had acquired bad colds, and every time Hannah gets a cold, it triggers a bout with asthma. They are still under the weather, and seberal ub da rest ub us are in barious stages ub da same code, I think.
Tuesday morning, Larry left for Guthrie, Oklahoma, where he got a pickup for one of our customers. (Or, as Caleb said, “He picked up a pickup! He’s pickin’ up a pickinup! Pickin’ a pickup up! hahahahahaha”)
At 1:30 A.M. Wednesday morning, I called him on his cellular phone to inform him that I80 and other secondary roads in southeast Nebraska were totally ice-covered, and semis were littering the ditches, and several were tipped over. He was just approaching Concordia, Kansas, and it was sleeting and the roads were getting slick. But the crewcab is sure-footed, especially so because it is a dually, and that big loaded trailer gave it even more traction. When Larry arrived home about 6:00 A.M., he said he had seen many cars and trucks slipping and sliding all over the road; but his rig never skidded once.
Tuesday Keith put our Christmas lights up on the eaves, porch railing, and around the door frame and garage door of our house. He even put lights on our little blue spruce in the front yard. It looks quite cute.
Friday we scooted furniture around, scratched our heads, scooted furniture this way and that, scratched our heads, scooted it back again, (on and on, ad infinitum), until finally we put the big chair in the front hallway, where it fits just fine if you don’t mind barking your shins on it every time you come around the corner and forget it’s there. We put the love seat in the corner beside the hearth, where it works just fine as long as you’re an amputee (or less than four feet tall); and we slid the smaller computer desk farther into the corner, where it functions just fine so long as you didn’t put something you needed into the now-covered-up cubbyhole on the side of it. By the end of this exercise, we had turned up a small gap in furniture right in front of the window.
Deeming this gap wide enough, we snatched up our Christmas tree and ran headlong into the living room, where we set it up as fast as ever we could, before the over-abundance of furniture began encroaching upon our designated tree location. I’m telling you, we have enough stuff in this house to fill up the Chateau d’Wintertuk, we do!
Well, the littles promptly went to hanging decorations, exclaiming delightedly over forgotten treasures and little works of art they and the older children have created throughout the years. Directly I noticed that the preponderance of ornaments were hanging heavily on the bottom half of the tree; so I recruited the older children to hang the remainder up on top, where the littles couldn’t reach. So, once again, our well-liked tree is up and twinkling merrily. There is no rhyme nor reason to the array, no correlating theme throughout, neither elegance nor excellence--and we want it just that way.
A friend of ours gave us a gigantic wreath with ribbons and trim and pine cones and such like. Teddy hung it outside, near our front door. Keith put little lights around it, and it’s really pretty. After that, he trotted next door and helped my brother-in-law put up his lights.
People are already giving us Christmas presents: one family brought us a turkey; Keith’s boss’s wife, one afternoon while Keith was at work, loaded his pickup with many bags of groceries.
Lawrence’s birthday is Friday; we got him a clock. It has a different bird painted on the face for each hour; and, on the hour, it tweets that particular bird call--a genuine recording. A sensor turns it off at night.
Saturday Keith spent the day cleaning up our yard--raking, taking out dried flowers, trimming shrubbery, and pruning the trees near the alley. Reckon our persnickety neighbor will like us better now? (Actually, she’s nice enough; it’s just that people who can’t abide the smallest leaf on their lawn shouldn’t live next to us.) One day this fall I spotted my sister out pulling weeds from her flower bed.
I marched right over there and informed her, “My CountRy magazine says that a good neighbor is one who doesn’t make his yard look better than yours.”
She laughed. And kept right on pulling weeds.
My mother decided Keith needed his Christmas present now; so she gave my brother some money and sent him off to get Keith an insulated pair of Redwing boots, a velour-lined sweat jacket with hood, a Carhart coat, and thick Redwing socks. Even though the temperature Saturday was below 20°, Keith stayed warm all day long.
Dorcas finished the blanket she was crocheting for my nephew’s new baby; enclosed is a picture of it. That blanket represents hours and hours of work. Now she is making ruffled collars for Hester and Lydia for Christmas.
Lawrence and Norma bought our van Friday. Saturday night they came to get it, and to sign some papers, and they brought us a pumpkin pie. MMMmmmm...
Yesterday I stayed home from church with Victoria (and Hannah and Joseph), who has caught that cold we are all getting.
When Caleb came marching in the door after church, he advised me, “We just had Sunday School; we didn’t get to open presents yet.”
When he arrived home from Christmas practice Friday night, he informed Larry, “We just had practice; we didn’t get to open presents yet.”
S’pose I need to lecture the little mercenary on the deeper significance of Christmas?
Our Wal-Mart store is now open for 24 hours a day--until Christmas, that is. This is just dandy--exactly what a late-night oil burner like me needs. Just the other night as I was sewing away, I had the deflating experience of running out of matching thread. And it had to match; the stitching was right on top.
“Aarrgghh!” says me. “Now, why didn’t I get more.....HEY! Wal-Mart’s open!”
So I dashed off and replenished several of my sewing supplies.
Saturday afternoon Nebraska played Texas A&M in the Astrodome at Houston. We won 54-15. Along about halfway through the game, the Nebraska fans started throwing oranges down onto the field every time the Huskers made another touchdown--because they’ll be going to the Orange Bowl, having won every game they played.
And now I’d better get back to my sewing machine.
Monday, December 1, 1997
Monday, December 1, 1997...Turkeys & Deer & Kittens
December already! Imagine that! This year seems to have absolutely flown by.
Lydia’s dress is now completed, and I’ve begun on my white chiffon and satin skirt. Then, a vest for Caleb, and three more dresses for Hester, Lydia, and Victoria, and I’ll be all done. Can I ever accomplish all that? Lydia’s dress has three tiers, sleeves with a very puffy top tapering to tight, V’d wrists, in large black/white/red metallic check taffeta; the piping, sash, and bowed cummerbund are in red metallic; and the bodice is black velvet. Teddy’s britches are all hemmed, and the waists taken up smaller, too.
Tuesday a good customer of ours left a huge turkey in the refrigerator at the shop. The next day my niece and her husband gave us two five-pound roasts. That evening a friend of ours brought us a big Christmas tin full of homemade oatmeal/chocolate chip/raisin cookies. The urchins rushed off to the kitchen with it, and were prying the lid off before our friend ever got back out the door; and, just before the door went shut, the lid hit the floor with a resounding CLLLLLLAAAANNNNNNNNGG!!
Goodness! He’ll think we’ve not taught anybody any manners around here. Or he’ll think we’re starving our children. Or maybe he’ll just tell his wife we are wild about her cookies.
One night we heard on our scanner that somebody had hit a deer out on Deer River Road (where else?), so we called the sheriff to inquire as to whether we could have it. After being told we could, we drove out to retrieve it. We’d been told it was still alive, so Larry took his twenty-two. Finally arriving at the destination, Larry climbed out of the Suburban and walked toward the sheriff and the lady who’d hit the deer. It was a very dark night. Caleb stared out the back window, trying to see what was happening, which was rather difficult, what with the lady’s lights, the sheriff’s red and blue strobes, and his headlights and emergency flashers on, too.
Caleb’s eyes were very large. In a soft, horrified voice, he asked, “Is Daddy going to shoot that lady??”
We hastily apprised him of the circumstances.
Unfortunately, we learned that the deer had gotten to its feet shortly before our arrival and staggered off into the nearby woods, in spite of its broken leg. Larry hunted for it for a little while with his flashlight, but it was nowhere to be seen. The next morning he looked again, but the only thing he found was a considerable passel of wild turkeys, all trying to out-gobble the other. On one side of the hill were dozens of hens; on the other side were quite a number of toms. And were they ever setting up a racket.
Well, so much for deer meat for the freezer. Too bad for the deer; too bad for us.
Victoria now gets up on her hands and knees, lurches forward (or, sometimes, backwards), and collapses.
When I finish feeding her, she clasps her hands together, wrinkles her nose, and loudly announces, “Aw done!”
This week I passed out all the Christmas poems and scriptures to the children who will be reciting them.
Caleb asked, “Will I get to say a poem for Christmas?”
I said, “Sure!” (He won’t, of course.) “It’ll be: ‘Hickory dickory dock! The Christmas mouse ran up the clock! The clock struck one! Opening presents has begun! What fun! What fun!’”
Caleb, eyebrows high, responded, “I can’t say that!”
“Why ever not?” I asked.
And he answered, “Because all the people would come up there and tickle me!”
(I always knew the audience was scary; but I never knew just exactly what they might do to you, should you get your poem wrong.)
Thursday we had our annual Thanksgiving dinner at church, with everybody bringing lots of food, as usual: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, cranberry jello salad, orange fluff salad, rolls with jelly, and our choice of pecan, pumpkin, or apple pie. Our little band and orchestra played a medley of several songs, which is always toe-tappingly inspiring.
That evening we went for a drive north to Tarnov, watching several falling stars along the way.
Sunday afternoon we drove west to Monroe, then north toward Lindsay. They are creating a new wetlands out in the country, and it was already covered with hundreds of mallards. The wildlife people must have good press agents.
We drove to a television tower out in the hills, one of the tallest such towers in the country. The children climbed out of the Suburban, the better to look at it, having to fling their heads right back to see the top; every time Caleb did so, he staggered forward several paces and nearly fell flat.
Our first Christmas practice was Friday evening. I tell you, it sure takes a long while to get everybody situated, not only according to height, but also according to singing parts. Age matters, too, since we don’t want somebody short to wind up in the Jr. Choir when they’re of Sr. Choir age, nor do we want somebody tall to wind up in the Sr. Choir when they’re of Jr. Choir age. So it took at least half an hour to get everybody seated and arranged on our none-too-big platform. Anyway, we got all the songs practiced at least once, and several two or three times. We’ve got a good start!
Now I need to type up the order of the program and make inserts to go between the songs in all the children’s notebooks, so they know the order of events. The notebooks are not all the same, because of different singing groups singing different songs. It always takes me one entire day to get it accomplished. Thank goodness for word processors and copying machines!
Saturday was spent writing music pieces for different instruments. Alto saxophones, tenor saxophones, and trumpets are each in different keys, and they are also different from the piano. So each part must be written separately. Many of our better players will accompany the singers during the program, in addition to a 15-minute instrumental of favorite carols at the beginning of the program.
Somebody dumped a kitten near Larry’s shop, and Teddy has adopted it. (Actually, I think Larry has adopted it, too.) They bought cat food for it, and give it milk periodically. Every day after Larry arrives, the kitten comes rushing, meowing a greeting. Larry thinks it has been sleeping in a wrecked car outside the shop. We daren’t bring it home; Aleutia would have it for breakfast; so the children have been making inquiries at school as to who would like a cat. The poor thing needs a loving home; we don’t want it to get run over or otherwise hurt at Larry’s shop.
And now we are going to visit my brother and his wife, and Victoria needs to be fed. Supper is ready, and my stomach is growling!
Lydia’s dress is now completed, and I’ve begun on my white chiffon and satin skirt. Then, a vest for Caleb, and three more dresses for Hester, Lydia, and Victoria, and I’ll be all done. Can I ever accomplish all that? Lydia’s dress has three tiers, sleeves with a very puffy top tapering to tight, V’d wrists, in large black/white/red metallic check taffeta; the piping, sash, and bowed cummerbund are in red metallic; and the bodice is black velvet. Teddy’s britches are all hemmed, and the waists taken up smaller, too.
Tuesday a good customer of ours left a huge turkey in the refrigerator at the shop. The next day my niece and her husband gave us two five-pound roasts. That evening a friend of ours brought us a big Christmas tin full of homemade oatmeal/chocolate chip/raisin cookies. The urchins rushed off to the kitchen with it, and were prying the lid off before our friend ever got back out the door; and, just before the door went shut, the lid hit the floor with a resounding CLLLLLLAAAANNNNNNNNGG!!
Goodness! He’ll think we’ve not taught anybody any manners around here. Or he’ll think we’re starving our children. Or maybe he’ll just tell his wife we are wild about her cookies.
One night we heard on our scanner that somebody had hit a deer out on Deer River Road (where else?), so we called the sheriff to inquire as to whether we could have it. After being told we could, we drove out to retrieve it. We’d been told it was still alive, so Larry took his twenty-two. Finally arriving at the destination, Larry climbed out of the Suburban and walked toward the sheriff and the lady who’d hit the deer. It was a very dark night. Caleb stared out the back window, trying to see what was happening, which was rather difficult, what with the lady’s lights, the sheriff’s red and blue strobes, and his headlights and emergency flashers on, too.
Caleb’s eyes were very large. In a soft, horrified voice, he asked, “Is Daddy going to shoot that lady??”
We hastily apprised him of the circumstances.
Unfortunately, we learned that the deer had gotten to its feet shortly before our arrival and staggered off into the nearby woods, in spite of its broken leg. Larry hunted for it for a little while with his flashlight, but it was nowhere to be seen. The next morning he looked again, but the only thing he found was a considerable passel of wild turkeys, all trying to out-gobble the other. On one side of the hill were dozens of hens; on the other side were quite a number of toms. And were they ever setting up a racket.
Well, so much for deer meat for the freezer. Too bad for the deer; too bad for us.
Victoria now gets up on her hands and knees, lurches forward (or, sometimes, backwards), and collapses.
When I finish feeding her, she clasps her hands together, wrinkles her nose, and loudly announces, “Aw done!”
This week I passed out all the Christmas poems and scriptures to the children who will be reciting them.
Caleb asked, “Will I get to say a poem for Christmas?”
I said, “Sure!” (He won’t, of course.) “It’ll be: ‘Hickory dickory dock! The Christmas mouse ran up the clock! The clock struck one! Opening presents has begun! What fun! What fun!’”
Caleb, eyebrows high, responded, “I can’t say that!”
“Why ever not?” I asked.
And he answered, “Because all the people would come up there and tickle me!”
(I always knew the audience was scary; but I never knew just exactly what they might do to you, should you get your poem wrong.)
Thursday we had our annual Thanksgiving dinner at church, with everybody bringing lots of food, as usual: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, cranberry jello salad, orange fluff salad, rolls with jelly, and our choice of pecan, pumpkin, or apple pie. Our little band and orchestra played a medley of several songs, which is always toe-tappingly inspiring.
That evening we went for a drive north to Tarnov, watching several falling stars along the way.
Sunday afternoon we drove west to Monroe, then north toward Lindsay. They are creating a new wetlands out in the country, and it was already covered with hundreds of mallards. The wildlife people must have good press agents.
We drove to a television tower out in the hills, one of the tallest such towers in the country. The children climbed out of the Suburban, the better to look at it, having to fling their heads right back to see the top; every time Caleb did so, he staggered forward several paces and nearly fell flat.
Our first Christmas practice was Friday evening. I tell you, it sure takes a long while to get everybody situated, not only according to height, but also according to singing parts. Age matters, too, since we don’t want somebody short to wind up in the Jr. Choir when they’re of Sr. Choir age, nor do we want somebody tall to wind up in the Sr. Choir when they’re of Jr. Choir age. So it took at least half an hour to get everybody seated and arranged on our none-too-big platform. Anyway, we got all the songs practiced at least once, and several two or three times. We’ve got a good start!
Now I need to type up the order of the program and make inserts to go between the songs in all the children’s notebooks, so they know the order of events. The notebooks are not all the same, because of different singing groups singing different songs. It always takes me one entire day to get it accomplished. Thank goodness for word processors and copying machines!
Saturday was spent writing music pieces for different instruments. Alto saxophones, tenor saxophones, and trumpets are each in different keys, and they are also different from the piano. So each part must be written separately. Many of our better players will accompany the singers during the program, in addition to a 15-minute instrumental of favorite carols at the beginning of the program.
Somebody dumped a kitten near Larry’s shop, and Teddy has adopted it. (Actually, I think Larry has adopted it, too.) They bought cat food for it, and give it milk periodically. Every day after Larry arrives, the kitten comes rushing, meowing a greeting. Larry thinks it has been sleeping in a wrecked car outside the shop. We daren’t bring it home; Aleutia would have it for breakfast; so the children have been making inquiries at school as to who would like a cat. The poor thing needs a loving home; we don’t want it to get run over or otherwise hurt at Larry’s shop.
And now we are going to visit my brother and his wife, and Victoria needs to be fed. Supper is ready, and my stomach is growling!
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