In reading
last Tuesday’s obituaries, I learned that my seventh-grade math teacher had passed
away. She was 95. I really liked her. Hmmm... if she was 95 now, and she was my teacher in
1972, she would have been 50 at that time.
She had curly gray-white hair even then.
We all thought she was oooold. Some of the other classes thought she was
crabby – but that was because they were bratty. At the end of that school year, she told
our class that she had never had a class she enjoyed more than ours. I had a good class. In 7th grade, our whole class
traveled around in mob form from classroom to classroom. Not until the 8th grade did each
class consist of a different variety of individuals.
Larry
began putting primer on his truck Tuesday, getting it ready to paint. He primed the pup the previous week, and
would paint truck and pup at the same time.
He was
feeling better, but that bad cold was still hanging on. He’s finally
getting over it, but still has a cough.
I don’t imagine breathing primer and paint and staying up most of the
night several nights running did him any good.
I fixed
chicken noodle soup for supper; that’s always good when one is under the
weather. Larry ate... slept for a couple of hours... and went back to the
shop to continue working on the truck.
I filled
several boxes and bags with things for the Goodwill, walked out onto the back deck to put them
into the Jeep for the Goodwill – and discovered it was snowing, and there was
already half an inch on the ground. I slip-slid
my way down the steps – and remembered that Caleb and his brother-in-law Samuel
were driving home from North Dakota in that weather.
Samuel and
his fiancée, Grace, are getting married March 5th. Samuel and
Caleb had gone to Bismarck to get a large fifth-wheel camper that will be the
young couple’s home for a while until they get their house. They’ll park
it on Caleb and Maria’s property; Caleb has several acres on the east side of
town, just out of the city limits.
They were
about 300 miles into the journey Monday when a young buck leaped out in front
of their pickup. Caleb was driving. He nailed the brakes; but there
was barely time to slow down much before they hit it. It pushed the grill
into the radiator, so the truck was undrivable. Samuel’s father (Caleb’s father-in-law) Dwight
owns an auto-body repair shop... but he didn’t need more to do!
:-\
At least they
didn’t get hurt; it was a big pickup. Well, it still is, though slightly
shorter now. :-O
Dwight loaded
another pickup onto a trailer and took it to the boys, and they proceeded on to
get the camper. They discovered upon arriving in Bismarck that the tires
on the camper were no good. It’s a triple axle, so there are six tires.
The good news is that they were driving on snow-covered, icy roads with six brand-spankin’-new
tires on that trailer.
Caleb was at
the wheel, as he has more experience and is several years older than
Samuel. Larry texted him to make sure he had the trailer brakes adjusted
pretty tight, as the camper is quite a bit heavier than the truck, and that
could save the day if the pickup lost traction.
They made it safely home at 2:00
a.m. It was slow going from Yankton, South Dakota, all the rest of the
way home, as the roads were slick.
It’s only 11°
by midafternoon Wednesday, and there were a couple inches of fresh snow.
Tiger came
back in from a little jaunt out into the yard. He marched up behind me
and MEOOOWWWWWWED loud and long, informing me in no uncertain terms that
it’s cold out there, and why hasn’t anyone turned up the thermostat?!
I filled the
bird feeder, and by the time I got back in, a dozen goldfinches, housefinches,
and English sparrows were clustered around it. Now and then blue jays
soared in, Jaaaayyyy!-ing loudly, and the songbirds scattered.
The little downy woodpeckers are braver, and go on pecking away at the suet
unless a big ol’ rowdy jay actually hops right onto the suet feeder beside
them. (See Mr. Downy on page 1; here’s
the Missus.)
I made a fresh
pot of coffee, and then headed to my sewing room to make something for the
soon-to-be-married couple. I changed my mind about a table runner, since
they would be living in the fifth-wheel camper for a little while.
Instead, I decided on a set of potholders; that will be more useful and easier
to store.
First, I
needed to print something – but the printer was being recalcitrant. It would print all the odd pages, then refuse
to do the evens on the opposite side for a while, because it still had the
first part of the job in its queue as ‘pending’. When I attempted to
cancel the job, ‘pending’ turned to ‘deleting’ – and stayed stuck like
that. A reboot of the computer solved
the problem, sort of, but the first job invariably tried to reprint. Pressing Cancel on the printer itself usually
stopped it. I generally have 20
gazillion things up, and don’t like rebooting!
I looked for a solution, and found a little HP Scan Doctor
program, downloaded it, ran it, and presto bingo shazam, the problem was fixed.
I looked
through the software on my new Sizzix eclips2 and found just what I wanted in
the Winter folder: a design of a cup,
complete with steam. It was entitled
‘Hot Chocolate’ – but I’m calling them ‘Coffee Cups’, to go with other things
Grace will have in her kitchen. In one
of my drawers, I found plenty of Insul-Bright, insulated batting especially for
potholders, oven mitts, casserole covers, and suchlike. It consists of polyester fibers,
needle-punched through a reflective metalized polyester film. The polyester fibers resist conduction while
the reflective metalized polyester film reflects radiant energy, hot or cold,
back to its source.
After a bit
of playing around, I figured out how to make the cup and the steam two separate
layers, so as to only cut cups, the first go-around, steam, the second.
Next, the fun
part: choosing the fabric.
But first... it
was time to don glad rags for church that night. The wind chill was -2°;
that called for warrrrm duds.
After the
service, Larry went off to finish priming his truck, and I headed downstairs to
cut appliqué pieces with the Sizzix eclips2.
I sat down for a moment to watch an instructional video about the cutter
– and Teensy jumped up onto the table, stepped on the keyboard, typed something
incomprehensible, and I wound up learning how to make chocolate-covered
strawberries—in Spanish.
I yelped, hit
the back button, and moved the cat.
Undeterred, he stepped from the table into my lap, pressed his cute
little head against me, and purred.
Sooo... I petted
the nice (but illiterate) kitty before I cranked up the Sizzix.
After the
pieces were cut, I fused the appliqués onto the background, and got one-and-a-half
potholders appliquéd (I’m using the satin stitch for this technique) before
deciding I’d better sleep a while before proceeding with the next one.
Larry didn’t
get home until 4:30 a.m. He tried
sleeping a little later than usual Thursday morning, but he seemed to be in
High Demand, with his phone ringing persistently at regular (and short) intervals. So he gave up, got up, got dressed, and went
to work.
A
lady on the quilting group has been keeping us apprised of her progress on a
quilt she is making. It is comprised of
many blocks. “It seemed like such a huge
undertaking when I started it,” she wrote. “I guess it just goes to show
you can eat an elephant – one bite at
a time.”
I quoted that
saying once upon a time, way back when Caleb was about seven years old, and he,
with eyes large, said in a horrified tone, “I would get elephantigo,
doing that!”
He meant, ‘elephantiasis’;
but he got it mixed up with impetigo, which he’d heard people mispronounce as ‘infantigo’. He’d read something about the disease in the
little newspaper the children got at school once a week. ‘Elephantiasis’ isn’t funny... but Caleb
was. :-D
By the way, I
just looked up impetigo, and see that it is now also listed as ‘infantigo’. Must be one more case of ‘if you can’t lick ’em,
join ’em!’ People mishear it and then
mispronounce it, since, after all, it’s a Staph infection that most often
affects infants and young children.
Another lady
wrote to tell about her son slipping on ice and breaking his ankle – as he was
leaving the gym, of all things. “He’s self-employed,
which means no paid vacation or sick leave,” she wrote. “But he’s a
trooper; he was back at work yesterday with his broken leg elevated on a banker’s
box under his desk.”
Ugh.
That’s no fun. I had a badly sprained ankle before Hester’s wedding back
in 2008, and had to sew wedding clothes – and had a full-time job, too. I
remember propping up my leg on stuff, trying to work... learning to use the
sewing machine’s foot pedal with my left foot... braking my vehicle with the left foot instead
of the right...
I am neither
ambidextrous nor ambiPODstrous. (Should be a word, and would
be a word, had Noah Webster ever tried using a foot pedal with the ‘wrong’
foot.)
I tell you, I
had no control over those pedals whatsoever. We’d come to a stop
sign... I’d press on the brake – and throw half a dozen kids from the second
and third seats in the Yukon straight onto the dash. The sewing machine
pedal was even worse. Why, I sewed an entire skirt before I even got it
cut out!
My sprained
ankle has been a bit misshapen ever since. I thought surely it was
broken, the way it felt and looked, but two X-rays on two different days showed
no breaks. I wonder if an X-ray now would show anything
different? At least it doesn’t hurt much anymore.
Our Federal
refund arrived, so I paid some bills, and then debated how best to use the rest
of it. I can’t debate too long, or that husband of mine will
purchase some VIPWMM! (Very Important Piece of Wheeled and Motorized Metal)
During the
last three months, I have often asked Victoria if she wants this or that. Most of the time, the answer is ‘no’. That day, she sent me a note with a picture
of this 16-oz. water Thermos: “Does this look familiar? I was debating buying one and then it suddenly
occurred to me… for pity’s sake, I HAVE ONE!!! If you find it, can you hang onto it for me?”
My reply: “Uh, oh.”
“Is it gone?” asked Victoria. “It was the one from Flylady. It would keep ice in a car on a 90° day for
12+ hours.”
“Yep, it went to the Goodwill just a few days ago,” I
affirmed. “There’s too much stuff in
this house, and I intend to clean it out. But I don’t want to give away
things that are special to one of you! L Maybe you could find it at the
Goodwill? It would certainly be cheaper than buying a new one. Or
you could ask your mother to buy you a new one for your birthday.”
She checked at the Goodwill, but didn’t find it. Either somebody snapped it up quick-like, or
they hadn’t put it out yet. I hadn’t recognized
it as the Flylady bottle. We have so many cute little Thermoses and jugs
and mugs that they’re coming out of our ears! Like Aunt B from Children’s Bible Hour
said, “One pig is the same as another, to me!”
But --------
wouldn’t you know, I had to go and donate that
one to the Goodwill. Siggghhhhhh...
Well,
her birthday is coming up, I thought,
and clicked on Flylady’s website. I
found the Thermos, and put in an order.
It should be here the day before her birthday, which is on the 24th.
Once upon a time, at the end of winter, I filled my vehicle
– a big Suburban with a fancy high-top – chock full of stuff to donate to the
Goodwill. On my way there, I made a stop at the cleaners to pick up all
our good winter coats that I’d just had cleaned.
I don’t have to tell the rest of the story, do I?
A couple of
hours later, it occurred to me, Oh, I
didn’t hang up the coats.
Except... there were
no coats to hang up. Not anywhere.
I realized my
mistake and rushed back to the Goodwill, where sympathetic employees let me
hunt through an enormous box of stuff where they said my bags had
‘probably’ been tossed. That box was a
good four feet square in height, width, and depth.
I felt
exactly like a little French hog, rooting for truffles.
And yes, I do know what a little French hog feels
like, rooting for truffles, because that’s
what I felt like.
((...considering...))
You know, if
a little French hog happened to think about it, he would know that he feels
exactly like a little lady in Midwest U.S. of A., hunting for lost winter coats
in a gigantic box of Stuff and Things.
No coats in
Box #1.
I started on
Box #2... and I came up with...
COATS!!!! All our good coats, still in the cleaners’ bags, still nice and
fresh, and amazingly unrumpled.
Whew.
That was a lot of dollars’ worth of coats.
Thank goodness they didn’t make me buy them back!
I loaded
seven potholders onto my quilting frame. Looks funny – seven potholders
on a big ol’ honkin’ 14-foot frame. I secured the edges of each
potholder... and then I was ready to quilt.
But first – a
time out to fix supper. We had Tilapia fish (too ‘fishy’ for me until I
put some Thousand Island dressing on it), frozen green beans (well, uh, that is,
I did cook them before we ate them), and, for dessert, big, soft, baked
pretzels to go with multi-berry smoothies made with black cherry frozen
yogurt. I
got the pretzels from Schwan’s. They outdo the ones I got at the grocery
store, by far. Plus, they come with packets of either sugar and cinnamon
or salt crystals. I slather on the butter, then sprinkle it with one or
the other. Mmmmmm... ((...drool...))
My homemade ones were better. But who has time for
baking, these days?? I quilt! I
think I only made pretzels twice ever.
Maybe once ever.
After supper,
I returned to the quilting frame. I hoped to get those potholders quilted
that night, providing my back wasn’t complaining too loudly. I started by
smothering the complaints with Soothanol pain-relieving drops. That
always helps.
Soothanol X2
is a liquid that’s applied to sore joints and muscles. It’s .20% capsaicin and 12% menthol. Hot stuff!
The rest of
the ingredients are DMSO, emu oil, d-Limonene oil, virgin olive oil, cayenne,
St. John’s wort, MSM, and arnica.
Ohhh... good
grief, I just discovered that it is more than twice the price it was,
just a few months ago. Maybe that’s what the “X2” stands for?? – ‘this
will soon double in cost!’? My sister
gave me the bottle I have. I found some on Amazon a while back for
$19.99. Now it’s $49.95! :-O
If you ever use it, wash your hands after you apply it (I
use a sponge lotion applicator), and don’t
touch eyes or broken skin. If you want
to know what it feels like, I can tell
you, Ooooooo, can I. You
needn’t try it yourself. Just ask me.
A time or two, I thought, Well, I won’t wash this good stuff off my hands, because my hands are
sorta sore anyway, and this will help!
I tell you, washing my hair was a trial by fire for several mornings
thereafter, as my hands burned. :-O If
your skin is sensitive to really hot topical analgesics, this is not for you.
Meanwhile, as I quilted, Larry took a nap, and then went
back to the shop later to paint his truck.
It doesn’t work too well to try and paint it during the day, because so
many men are going in and out of the shop, and that gets dust in the
paint.
By 3:30 a.m.,
the potholders were all quilted, off the frame, trimmed, and ready to be
bound. More photos are here.
Friday afternoon when I took the grandchildren
home from school, I gave Emma and Grant their birthday gifts – they turned 11
and 4, respectively – and gave the rest of the children a set of Lincoln logs I
found in the cubbyhole upstairs when cleaning it out. They already have Lincoln logs, and it’s
always nice to add to the set.
Before I
backed back down the driveway, Grant popped out the front door to tell me ‘thank
you’ again. He’s such a cutie!
Larry
finished painting his truck Friday, and is pleased with how it turned out.
That evening, we went to Teddy and Amy’s house for a
birthday party for the kids – or at least that’s what they said. But they gave us Valentine’s Day gifts!
Norma was there; they gave her a pretty necklace. My gift is a fleece
blanket – with the children’s pictures printed all over the fabric. To Larry they gave a set of red plaid flannel
pajamas.
One time when
Lyle (named after Larry’s late father) was about four, he learned the family
was coming to give me some birthday gifts, saw that his older brother and
sister each had some little item for me – and nearly cried, because he had
nothing. Then it occurred to him... he did have something! – the
clothlike bag with Velcro top that his kiddymeal had come in, when they’d
stopped at a local fastfood joint. He hastily cleaned it out, and
presented it to me with great pomp. He’s shy, but he stood and grinned
from ear to ear as I assured him that it was exactly what I’d been needing, and
red is my favorite color, and I love firetrucks.
Teddy was a
bit embarrassed, and quietly assured me that no one would be upset if I
discarded of it after they left. “But, Teddy!!!” I protested, “he’s
liable to come looking for it, next time he comes! Now hush.”
I put a
hand-embroidery kit into it, and still use it for embroidery floss. Fortunately, the fast food that came in it had
been well-wrapped, and the bag never did smell like anything other than
vinyl. Now and then I show Lyle (he’s 9 now), “Look! I’m still
using this neat little bag you gave me!” And, big boy that he is, he’s still
pleased about that. Truth to tell, it is
a nifty little bag, and it’s such a bright red, it practically never
gets lost.
Emma chose chicken salad for supper, and made striped jello
to go with it. There was also fruit salad, and a big layer cake with
three kinds of ice cream to choose from. One side of the cake had Grant’s
4 candles... the other side, Emma’s 11. Emma’s candles were the relighting
variety, which always makes for lots of merriment.
There was
supposed to be a minor eclipse of the moon that night. So, at the appropriate time – right when we
were driving to Teddy and Amy’s, as it turned out – I looked at it.
It was
‘minor’, all right. So minor, we
couldn’t see it. The eclipse, that
is.
It looked
like a moon. A full one, but a moon,
nonetheless. If it was being eclipsed,
it was evidently being eclipsed with something diaphanous.
When we got
home, I went back to the sewing room and put binding on potholders. When I threw in the towel, there were still a
couple left to do; but I was too tired to finish.
Here, how ’bout
this email I got:
Dear Sarah Lynn:
We are writing to inform you that we have received your
application.
No reply or action is required at this point. You can safely delete this email.
Privilege Grant
Wonder what I applied for?? Quite
obviously, one of the planet’s great brains wrote that. And his name is ‘Privilege Grant’.
I’ve been
ordering a few things – sweater, skirt, blouse – from eBay for Easter. When you make an offer and your lower price
is automatically accepted, do you think, Rats! I should’ve gone $5 less!
I also
ordered a hand-embroidered sweater that I planned to give as a gift. It was listed as ‘New without Tags’.
Well, it’s
the most well-used ‘new’ item I’ve seen in a while. Furthermore, it’s not only well-used, it’s
also dirty. At least, I hope it’s just dirty, and not stained. It’s going into the next load of wash – in
fact, the dryer just buzzed, so I’m off to do that now.
* *
*
Okay, I’m baaaaaaaack!
Saturday
afternoon, Larry and I met at Loren’s house; Larry brought his scissor lift and
tried to adjust the Internet dish while I watched the laptop to see if it ever
got online. The Internet wouldn’t work
for any longer than a couple of seconds at a time. We bypassed the router... same result. After over an hour of fiddling with it, we
gave up until we could call Megavision and see if they could help us.
Larry went
back to working on one of his pickups at Caleb’s house, and I went back to
putting binding on the last two potholders.
I
have a soup tureen for the couple, too, and I’ll put some packets of Bear Creek
soup in it. I ordered a nifty wooden
ladle from Wal-Mart to go with it.
I finished
layering the wax into a jar for a candle and lit it, making my sewing room
smell like pumpkin spice. After it burns through the top layer, it’ll smell like
cranberry almond. 😋 The fine
china cup, saucer, and dessert plate used to be my mother’s, and are quite old.
I put the last
load of clothes into the washing machine, and then it was time for supper.
It was nice enough to hang some clothes outside that day.
We had tomato
basil soup and grilled cheese sandwiches on 12-grain bread.
A friend and
I were discussing various members of our respective communities, hers the largest
city in the U.S., New York City, mine the 10th-largest city in the
38th most-populace state even though it ranks 16th in
terms of size, making it 43rd in population density. New York is 7th in population
density.
New York City
has a population of approximately 8.5 million.
Columbus has a population of a little over 22,000. There’s a difference.
I announced
that our population consisted of oodles of Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Actually, of
course, there aren’t all that many Jehovah’s Witnesses; it’s just that they
have a penchant for popping up at the most inopportune times. I got rid
of a couple of persistent ones who stood on my porch and wouldn’t go away, way
back when Dorcas was a baby crying in the background and needing to be fed,
whilst Hannah sat in her high chair and called, “More chir-ROWS, Mama?”
(cheerios) and Keith shouted from the Little Room, “I’M DOOONE!!!” — anyway,
I got rid of them by asking to see one of their Bibles, whereupon one of them gladly
handed it over, thinking he had a proselyte.
I turned to Revelation 21:8, handed the Bible back and pointed at the
verse:
But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and
murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall
have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the
second death.
Jehovah’s
Witnesses don’t believe there is a hell. And yet that verse is right
there in their very own Bible (their version reads slightly different from the
King James Version we use – it says ‘sulphur’ instead of ‘brimstone’).
“You both go
home and study on that verse, and come back when you can look me in the eye and
tell me that you truly believe there is no hell, despite saying you believe
everything in your Bible,” I told them. Then I shut the door in their
befuddled faces and rushed off to care for my baby. Aggravating people! They act like they care so much for my soul,
yet aren’t the slightest bit troubled to keep a young mother from taking care
of her children when they can hear said children crying, calling, and
shouting! Grrrrr.
Here’s a
funny: When I worked as an Administrative Assistant for Keystone Pipeline
(writing up easements and property something-or-others and various other
Important Documents that I can’t even remember the names of anymore), one of
our Field Representatives told the following story:
He was working
for a pipeline in Upstate New York, and needed to get a property owner’s
signature. The property owner lived in a sixth-floor walkup on the Upper
East Side of New York City.
So the field
rep went huffing and puffing up... and up... and up... and up. He knocked
on the door.
The owner let
him in.
The rep,
still trying to catch his breath, and trying to be clever, too, both at the
same time, wheezed, “Boy, oh, boy, I’ll bet you don’t get many Jehovah’s
Witnesses way up here!”
Ahem. And oopsy-daisy.
The thing
was...
The property
owner was a Jehovah’s Witness.
Nevertheless, the field rep got the signature. The JWs
probably felt sorry for him. Or maybe they didn’t want to cause him a
heart attack by compounding his exertion with mortification and disappointment,
all at once.
I headed for bed
Saturday night, telling my New York City friend with whom I’d been emailing, “I’d
better hit the hay, or I’ll be dozing my way through Sunday School! I’ll
be a ‘Jehovah’s Listless’.”
English is
such fun. You can take any nice, well-behaved adjective, and force it
into service as a noun, whether it likes it or not.
I once took an
hour of German, the first day of 10th grade. The teacher
taught us to say, “Hello, my name is...” in German, and then she started working
her way through the alphabet, having one student after another stand up and tell
us his name, after which he was to tell the class what he had done over the
summer. We made it through half the class, and I was never so glad in my
life that my name was Swiney, so my turn hadn’t come up yet.
First, I was
shy, and I really disliked those impromptu public speeches, although if I had
to, I did it with aplomb, and nobody ever guessed how my stomach had turned
wrong side out at the very thought. Second, if I told what I had done
through the summer, I was going to sound like a stinkin’ braggart compared to
everyone else, because I had traveled all over the continent with my
parents. The others had detasseled field
corn... gone fishing... waded in the Platte... mowed yards... gone to the State
Fair...
Now, I didn’t
mind telling about my trips, but not in a setting where it would seem like I
was trying to one-up everyone, especially since I didn’t know most of the
others in the class!
Another
potential problem: I’d taken accelerated algebra, science, shorthand
(stands me in good stead in reading old Peanuts comics), typing, accounting,
some sort of college-prep English/Brit class, and ... ? can’t remember the
others; and I’d left myself only the lunch hour for a study hall. I’d
flipped through the German book, and it looked intense (though so do the
instructions for how to set an alarm, when they’re in German, come to think of
it). But I knew it would be in my own best interests to take a class that
wouldn’t require so much studying.
So I headed
straight for the counselor’s office when the class was over, and asked what
other classes were open during that period.
There were
two: Automotives IV and Child Development.
I’d have
taken the automotives class, had one not needed to have first taken Automotives
I, II, and III.
The Child
Development class was interesting and informative, though – and, as it turned
out, very helpful to me. We learned what kinds of foods children needed
from birth through teens, how to make baby food, what might cause a baby to have
colic, and how to recognize and treat all sorts of childhood illnesses.
Yesterday
afternoon, I awoke from an hour-long nap with a sore throat and a headache, so
I stayed home from church last night. I had hoped I would escape catching
the bad cold Larry had last week! No such luck. We were supposed to go to Omaha for eye exams
and new glasses from LensCrafters tomorrow, but I canceled the appointment a
little while ago, as I feel worse today than I did last night.
I just hunted
all over the place on my laptop to find what was making the continuous double-beep
noise. I pulled up task manager, looked
to see what process was using temporary memory... but I couldn’t track it
down. This new laptop has a few
different sounds than the old one did, and I’m still not accustomed to them. Well,
bother, I thought, guess I’ll have to
reboot to get that beeping to stop. I
carried the laptop into another room—and left the beeping behind!
Oh.
It was Larry’s
little speaker that he uses with his smartphone; the battery was running
low. :-D
I fixed
chicken noodle soup tonight in the hopes it would help me feel better. It tasted good, but I don’t feel better.
And now,
having done nothing but wash the clothes and mop a small floor today, I want
nothing more than to go back to bed.
And so I
will.
,,,>^..^<,,, Sarah Lynn ,,,>^..^<,,,
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