Journal: Wishing You A Joyous Christmas

I meant to mention in last week’s letter that the Kimball grand piano in Lydia’s great room is the one my father got for me when I was 13 years old – on the very day Jacksons came to town.

Jeremy cut and curved the wood for that staircase himself.

Tuesday, I started quilting the Atlantic Beach Path quilt.  Over a period of three days last week, I’ve spent ten hours on the top two borders, and I’m still not done.  Here’s what it looked like after the first four hours:

I turned on the radio (online) as usual Wednesday morning to listen to the news as I took a bath and washed my hair – and discovered that, instead of news, there was a rash of Christmas music.  It was Christmas Day, after all.  There were stupid Christmas songs sung by people who would probably sound just fine on decent music, and there were lovely old Christmas songs totally slaughtered by those who cannot sing.  I mean that:  they cannot sing.  Aarrgghh.  The latter is worse than the former.

Okay, I thought The Grinch was funny, and I didn’t mind Meet Me Under the Mistletoe.  Much.

Following that, the stand-in female meteorologist gave us the weather – but I can never think what she’s saying, on account of how she’s saying it:  she starts in a very high-pitched tone, sounding like an excited kindergartner.  As the sentence goes along, her voice gets lower and lower, until, if said sentence is very long at all, she winds up growling like J. D. Sumner, and if the sentence still doesn’t stop, it’s finally so low and raspy, one can barely make out what she’s saying.  Then with a gulp and a looong, wheezy breath, she starts the next sentence way up in the stratosphere again, in that piercingly shrill little-girl tone, and works her way down from there, with no inflection, modulation, nuance, variation, or accent, just a steady drop in that monotonous tone until she gets to the basement register.

Why do they hire people who read like that?!  And does she talk like that, too?!!  Reading that way really must be caused by a lack of brain cells, or from being dropped on one’s head as an infant.  What else can it be???!

I hastily clicked ‘Pause’ and read the weather on AccuWeather.com.

At noon that day, we had our Christmas dinner at church.  On the menu was roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and bacon, chef salad, strawberry salad, buttered slices of French bread fresh out of the oven, pickles and olives, milk or juice, coffee or tea, ice cream, and such a variety of cheese cakes and pies I couldn’t possibly remember them all.

Here I am holding Violet in the front church vestibule by a tall, tall Christmas tree.  Violet is pointing at the big red balls.  “Pretty ball!” she informed me a moment later.

Keira, too, was transfixed by that giant tree with its huge balls and bows and snowflakes.

After the dinner, we delivered a few gifts to several friends, then went to Kurt and Victoria’s house to exchange gifts.  We’d planned to go to Teddy and Amy’s house later, but learned that several of the children were sick (and still are), so we’ll go another time, hopefully this week.  

Andrew and Hester had invited us to their house that evening, but upon finding out we were going to Teddy’s house, they made plans to go to Kurt and Victoria’s house instead... so, when I got the note from Amy telling me the children were sick, Victoria invited us back to their house that evening.  We scurried home, refilled our sleigh with gifts, and then dawdled around for a bit, since the little girls were all taking naps.

Just thinking about all this wore Larry plumb out, and he meandered into the living room to take a quick nap, Teensy cat hot on his tail to nap with him.

At 5:00 p.m., back we went again to give Andrew, Hester, and Keira their gifts.  Keira, Carolyn, and Violet are good friends; it’s such fun to watch them play together.

Can you tell Carolyn is happy with the coat we gave her?

Next, we went to Loren and Norma’s house and gave them their gifts.  They fed us chicken noodle soup and crackers.  When we came home around 8:30 p.m., we were laden with the leftovers, which we saved for supper Friday night.

In the midst of all this Christmas bustle, we found out that Susan, my sister Lura Kay’s daughter, has breast cancer.  It’s an extremely aggressive type.  Susan is 46.  You’ll recall that her brother David, John H. and Lura Kay’s second son, was killed in 2002 at age 34 when a drunk driver rammed into his home in the middle of the night.  Kelvin, their oldest, has been fighting colon cancer for over three years.  

Robert, our pastor, is their third child.  Susan is the youngest.  She has been our church pianist since I quit in 1995.  Susan’s husband Charles (Seadschlag) is the manager for Walker Foundations.

Chemo or surgery – more likely chemo – will start this week, they think.  They are waiting on the results of a genetic test, which will help them determine which route to take.  The doctors they have talked to believe she will beat the cancer.

A cancer diagnosis is always a blow.  But God so often sends a ray of sunshine through the clouds:  Susan and Charles opened a Christmas gift from their daughter Danica, who was married earlier this year.  It was a baby t-shirt, and on the front was printed, “Congratulations, you are going to be grandparents.”  Cheered everyone up, hearing that good news.

Thursday, Larry went to Burwell and Broken Bow out into the Sandhills to get some parts for his pickups and a big sandblaster he won on a Purple Wave auction for $77.  When I say ‘big’, I mean part of it fit on his long flatbed trailer, and another part of it filled his pickup bed.  It’s the kind that reclaims the sandblasting materials.

As he headed home from the west, Joseph and his children, Justin and Juliana, were heading here from the east.  Joseph got here first. 

Supper was a bit odd, as they arrived hungry, and I knew the meat – a large turkey breast and two thick sirloin steaks – and spicy baby bakers (potatoes) wouldn’t be done for quite a while.  So I quickly cooked some corn on the cob, doled out a fruit mixture (peaches, mangoes, strawberries, and pineapple), and baked some of those big, fat pretzels, then buttered them and sprinkled sugar and cinnamon on them.  That was the first course, and they devoured it like hungry baby birds.

Then I took the kids upstairs to the little library and let them choose some books and a stuffed animal apiece to take back downstairs.  They thought that was pretty neat.  More photos here.

I gave the Lonestar quilt back to Joseph a couple of years ago; I made it for him when he was 9 years old. 

On the bed now are the Americana Eagle quilt and pillow I made for Larry last year.

While we waited for the meat and potatoes to get done cooking, we handed out their gifts.  Justin was thrilled with his little red drone and his red pickup (like his Daddy’s truck, other than the color – Joseph’s is dark blue).  And Juliana loved her doll.  Now I will have to make a wardrobe of clothes for that doll!  😊 

Joseph is laughing, because he just got through saying, “Ohhhh!  You’ve ruined me!  Have you ever looked at the aisles and aisles of doll accessories in Wal-Mart?!”

By this time, the meat and potatoes were finally done, so we all launched into Course #2.  Cinnamon applesauce was the chaser.  Poor Justin; he’d been looking forward to cookies!  Every other time he came, I baked chocolate chunk/peanut butter chip cookies.  But he still gave me a big hug before they left. 

Friday, I quilted for a couple of hours, and then Bobby and Hannah and the children came visiting, and we gave them their Christmas presents.  As expected, Joanna and Nathanael’s watchbands were much too big.  I don’t know about Aaron’s; I forgot to ask.

Somehow, I didn’t get a picture of Nathanael!  What in the world.  🤔

Saturday, Larry went with a friend to get a loader the friend had bought.  Larry sent me this picture after they got it loaded onto his trailer.  That thing is BIG.  I’m glad he didn’t have to haul it over Wolf Creek Pass!  Remember that?  😲

Sunday morning as I got ready for church, the cats were scampering about in a bit of pique and vexation, frustrated because we had the blocker in the pet door in order to keep out a whole raft of new-to-the-neighborhood cats, including a couple of really cute half-grown ones, that someone evidently dumped out here.  Again.  That’s soooo aggravating!  I don’t want more cats!  And the Humane Society will not take them, because we’re out of the city limits. 

There is the off chance that the cats live nearby, and came into our garage on account of the weather (snowing, sleeting, raining, cold, and windy).  That happens sometimes when the people they really belong to don’t give them proper shelter, and won’t let them into the house.

This creates problems for us, because these cats start coming into our house, following ours right through the pet door.  They then get into fights, the male cats spray, and they use our cats’ litter box out in the garage, which is an excellent way of spreading all kinds of germs and diseases.  Ugh, ugh, ugh.  I extremely dislike people who won’t take care of their animals!

By the time we got home from church, we had a couple of inches of snow or so.  Hard to tell, because the wind was blowing it away and into drifts here and there.  The snow picked up in the afternoon, giving us another inch or more.  A wet snow was still coming down when we went back to town for the evening service. 

That afternoon, Larry shut the back walk-in garage door after making sure all the stray or dislocated cats were out of the garage (or at least trying to make sure they were out) by running the leaf blower in there and walking hither and yon until they’d all run out said door, theoretically.  I think they’re out; I haven’t seen or heard any since.  They can hide from the weather in our shed or in Larry’s big garage that’s under construction.

I removed the pet door blocker, so Teensy and Tiger can now go in and out as they wish (though they can’t get outside, only into the attached garage). 

Since what they really wanted was to go outside, they were soon back, telling us exactly what they thought of this dirty trick.

So... we let them out the front door.  It was snowing hard and the wind was blowing up a gale, so they got their fill of that right quick-like.  Tiger came back in the front door, but I had to go call for Teensy; he was huddled somewhere in the big half-done garage.  Boy oh boy, did he ever come on the gallop when he heard me calling.

Meanwhile, a poor little cute half-grown black cat was all squunched into a shivering ball of cold, damp misery at the closed garage door.  This makes me want to find whoever dumped those cats and wring his stupid scrawny neck.  Aarrgghh.  

But...  if there’s the slightest chance they actually live somewhere around here, maybe keeping them out of the garage will force them to return home.  I can’t save the world’s population of cats!!!  Four of the six cats we’ve had were dumped.

Victoria and her little girls were not at church today; the children were sick.  Jeremy and Lydia’s entire family has been sick.  Influenza is running rampant in Nebraska, and particularly in Columbus.  I think it’s starting to pick up steam with our friends and family now, because of all the family get-togethers.  The students were out of school the week before Christmas; that helps control the spread of germs a bit.  But one after the other have been getting sick in the last few days.

We took a box of gifts to Lura Kay and John H. after church, and they handed us gift bags in return.  We exclaimed to each other the customary ‘you shouldn’t have!’s, and Lura Kay said, “Well, you have to quit first!” to which I said I couldn’t possibly, because I had a lot of years to make up for – all those years when she got me something, and I was too little to buy her anything.  “And I kept tabs!” she informed me.  hee hee

After we got home and ate some supper, we opened our bags and discovered... a book of Ira David Sankey’s story!  I love his story... but I’ve never my own book about him.  I promptly read the preface, which tells how he survived the Great Chicago Fire, putting his few belongings into a rowboat and rowing out to where the water wasn’t covered with ash and soot, so he could get a drink, for he was terribly thirsty.  Ira Sankey was a gospel singer and composer of music for such hymns as Faith Is the Victory, Trusting Jesus, Under His Wings, and The Ninety and Nine.  During the last three decades of the 19^th century, Ira D. Sankey partnered with Dwight L. Moody in a series of religious revivalist campaigns, mainly in North America, but also in Britain.

Lura Kay also gave me a large tin of tea varieties, and the niftiest little teapot with an infuser for loose tea leaves.

I’m still playing Christmas songs from my big Christmas notebook.  I’ve been playing several songs a day for the last month, and still haven’t made it all the way through that book.

I so love the beautiful old Christmas hymns!  I have collected Christmas hymns for 45 years or so, especially the old ones by favorite authors such as Charles H. Gabriel, Haldor Lillenas, Philip P. Bliss, etc.  Some of my favorites:

No, Not in Vain

Down from His Glory

From the Starry Heavens

O Beautiful Star of Bethlehem

Bethl’em Lowly

O Bethlehem of Judah

He Became Poor

Light in the Stable

In a Lowly Stable (though it was more likely a shallow cave)

... and hundreds more, including the well-known ones in our church hymnals.

There are only a few of which I am not especially fond (speaking of hymns, not those idiotic secular songs, such as Do You Hear What I Hear [which Larry invariably sings as ‘Do You Smell What I Smell] or The Little Drummer Boy, Pah Rum-Pa-Pum-Pum, which I particularly despise).  Here are two of my least favorite Christmas hymns:

We Three Kings

God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen

I about 12, maybe, when I realized that the comma in the latter title makes all the difference in the world.  It’s ‘rest ye merry’, and not ‘rest, merry gentlemen’!  I liked it better (but only a little better) after that. 

And then there’s this one:

♫ ♪ Linus got run over by a snowball ♫ ♪

♫ ♪  playing in his yard on Christmas Eve; ♫ ♪

♫ ♪ You can say there’s no such thing as Lucy… ♫ ♪  

♫ ♪  but as for me and Snoopy, we believe! ♫ ♪

Peanuts, by Charles Schulz    12/24/72

We are caring for the neighbors’ goats and chickens while they are gone, and the eggs are multiplying like bunnies.  So I boiled a dozen of them and made deviled eggs this evening.

The Schwan man came today.  We shall eat well tonight!

It’s 27°, with a wind chill of 15°.  The wind is howling around the eaves.  But look what a spectacular sunset I suddenly noticed outside my windows!

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

Photos: Sunset

Sunset tonight, view from our upper deck. The last two shots are looking east from the windows in my quilting studio. It was windy, with gusts up to 35 mph, and the clouds changed rapidly as I took the photos.

These photos make me think of this favorite old hymn:

When His Glory Paints the Sky

I can see Him through the twilight,
At the closing of earth's day;
I could almost hear Him whisper,
As to Him I knelt to pray:
"Only wait a little longer;
Alter not in faith nor sigh!"
I will meet you in the morning,
When His glory paints the sky.

With my eye of faith upon Him,
Though the shadows thicken fast;
But the darkness cannot hide Him,
'Til the morning break at last.
E'en in times of deepest anguish,
When with bitter tears I pray,
I can hear His gentle whisper:
"I am near you all the way!"

Here it is as sung by the Palmero Brothers in 1966: 

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBDldYv7tA4

Journal: Christmas Wishes

Last Monday night, we had chicken tortilla soup from Schwan’s for supper.  Mmmm, yummy!  That’s good (and hot!) stuff.  We had Scoops corn chips and Salsa con Queso cheese dip (in lieu of crackers) to go with it.  And there was cinnamon applesauce for dessert.  😋

Tuesday afternoon, I took a couple of boxes full of gifts to the post office for those of our children who live a long distance away.  As I drove toward town, a hawk soared low over the highway and landed on a tall light post just as I drove underneath.

I dropped off a bag of Stuff & Things at the Goodwill, and then took Jonathan (Jeremy and Lydia’s little boy) a birthday gift.  He was six years old that day. 

We gave him some pajamas with a glow-in-the-dark space shuttle on the front, and a game that works somewhat similar to the classic Battleship game.  Every time he has seen me since then, he has told me how he likes that game and asked me to come play it with him.  I have promised to play it, the very next time I am there.  😊

Late that night, I finished putting the seventh (and last) border on the Atlantic Beach Path quilt.  It was ready to be quilted.  This final border is the fabric I used for a good many of the kaleidoscopes.  The rest were cut from the Beach Path panels.  I will attach the 3D hexagons and all the rest of the embellishments (pearls on the tucked borders at the twist, and hexagon-shaped Swarovski crystals in the middle of the 3D hexies) after the quilting is complete.  The quilt now measures 123” x 124”. 

Many times when I post pictures of a partial view of a quilt, I get requests from other quilters to show the whole thing.  Most ask quite nicely, but every now and then someone demands imperiously, “You need to show us the whole thing!” ---- right whilst it’s on the quilting frame, somewhere in the middle of the job.  🙄

On that Tuesday, my back deck, which is the only good place around here that’s big enough to take pictures of quilts this size, was covered with several inches of snow.  Furthermore, it was melting snow.

With those facts as background, you’ll understand why I laughed when I got the following note from a good friend: 

“The borders look fabulous, but I want to see a picture of the whole thing!  Since it is only about as big as a football field, I don’t see why you couldn’t hold it up with one hand and get a picture with the other hand.”  hee hee

A quilting friend sent me the following:

In My Sewing Room

Thou Shalt Not...

...ask when it will be finished

...cut anything with my fabric scissors

...request that I hem your pants

...speak to me when I have seam ripper in hand

...tell me I have too much fabric

...push buttons on my sewing machine

...bring me your clothes to iron

...pull on any loose threads

...wonder aloud why I’m still in my pajamas

...come looking for food—this is not the kitchen

 ‘Thou shalt not speak to me when I have seam ripper in hand’ made me laugh.  However... I have pleasant memories of Caleb, frantically getting ready for his date (or Wednesday evening church service – which was also a date, come to think of it, as he picked up Maria on his way to town, and they went to church together) after getting home late from work, asking me (with lots of preemptive ‘pleases’ and ‘thank-yous’) to iron his shirt.  I was usually in my sewing room, right beside the downstairs bathroom.  I’d time it to finish the ironing job just about the time he needed it, gauging the time by the sound of the shower. 

He’d stick his hand out the door, and I’d hang the still-warm shirt on it.  He’d put it on and say “AAhhhh... nothing feels better than a freshly-ironed shirt!”  😍  One could never begrudge ironing shirts for Caleb.

Larry often comes up to my quilting studio (upstairs, nowadays) when he gets home from work, asking, “What’s for supper?”  So I hold up whatever it is I’m working on at the moment, gaze at it admiringly, and say, “Why, thank you!  I think so, too.”  Makes him laugh, every time.

As for the other items on the list... Not very many quilters would think I have too much fabric.  And the only time I don’t take a bath, wash my hair, get dressed, and curl my hair, every day without fail, is if I’m deathly ill.  I am very rarely deathly ill.

Somebody asked me what the name of that fabric is that I pleated for border #4.  I looked at the selvedge and discovered it’s called ‘Sand in My Shoes’, ©McKenna Ryan, for Robert Kaufman Fabrics.  ‘Sand in My Shoes.’  The fabric is even more appropriate than I thought!

Wednesday was a much warmer day, after many very cold ones.  It got all the way up to 45°.  I could’ve loaded the quilt on the frame – but I didn’t have backing or the wool batting.

Since Larry had a Thursday appointment with his dentist in Lincoln, he said we would go to Country Traditions in Fremont for backing and batting after his first appointment at 9:30 a.m.

The dentist had told him last month that they would remake his temporary dentures, so that when he gets his permanent dentures in January and these become his backups, they will fit as well as possible.  We would have 4 ½ hours to kill between 9:30 a.m. and the next appointment at 2:00 p.m.

So, instead of working on the quilt Wednesday, I scanned more old pictures in one of my many albums.  Here we are at the Norris Geyser Basin Visitor’s Center, August 20, 1994:  Teddy, Keith holding Lydia, Larry holding Caleb, Hannah, Joseph, Dorcas, and Hester.

Thursday morning, we headed out of town a little after 7:00 a.m.  The sun wasn’t up yet, and the sky was a brilliant red, orange, and yellow as we crossed the Platte River bridge.

As it turned out, Larry’s dentures fit well enough that they decided not to do the total remake on these temporary dentures until next month, when they’ll redo the temporaries and make the permanent dentures at the same time.

We stopped at Country Traditions in Fremont on our way home, and I got the backing and batting for the quilt.  The saleslady asked if I had the 40% coupon that had been in their newsletter, but I hadn’t even noticed a coupon.  So she told us she would keep my fabric (11 yards) and batting (king-sized Quilters’ Dream wool) behind the counter, and we could scurry over to the public library, pull the newsletter up on my laptop, tablet, or phone, print the coupon, and bring it back to the store.  They require the actual piece of paper, as there’s no bar code on the coupon.

Better believe we were willing to pop right over to the library and pay 50¢ for a coupon printout in order to save $57.16!  The people at Country Traditions are so nice to me.

The backing would take three 132” lengths of this 42”-wide fabric – even if there had’ve been any 108”-wide fabric that I liked as well [there wasn’t], it would’ve taken 7 ½ yards, cost more, and there would’ve been a lot more left over. 

By 8:00 p.m., I had the backing cut, sewn together, ironed, and ready to load on my frame.  Supper first, though!  And after supper, having gotten up at 5:00 a.m. that morning, I was too, too sleepy to do anything in my quilting studio. 

I spent Friday loading the backing on the quilting frame and piecing together one piece after another of 80/20 (cotton/poly) batting until it was big enough (or so I thought).  I loaded it on the frame... then the Quilters’ Dream Wool... got it all smoothed down just right... spread out the quilt top in preparation to loading it next – and realized that the batting wasn’t big enough.  Neither piece of batting was big enough, even though they were king-sized.

But... it was late.  I smoothed everything out, made sure no cats were cuddled up in the batting, and went to bed.

At noon Saturday, we had a big dinner at Jeremy and Lydia’s house.  Most of our children and their families, and Loren and Norma, too, were there.

We had ham, sweet potatoes with walnuts in a crunchy sweet topping, chef salad, juice, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, orange fluff, grapes, oranges, and all sorts of cookies.  Our contribution was two trays of fresh vegetables and dip and two trays of fresh fruit and dip. 

Some members of the family were sick and couldn’t come; some were just recovering after being sick earlier in the week, and some would be sick the very next day. 

When we got home, I loaded the Atlantic Beach Path quilt on my frame.  It’s bigger than I thought – it’s 123” x 124”.  I had to add a 10” strip of batting to both the king-sized Quilters’ Dream wool and the cotton/poly battings.  Fortunately, I had some wool batting left over from another quilt.  I should’ve counted how many pieces of 80/20 cotton/poly batting I put together; there were a lot. I used up one giant bag full of batting leftovers.

Teensy is sitting there innocently pretending he’s not paying any attention to what I’m doing, and certainly not planning anything I might disagree with, such as clambering into the batting that’s hanging onto the floor and making himself comfortable.

The two layers of batting are to make the quilting really show up well. 80/20 goes on the bottom, because it works well as a stabilizer. Wool goes on top, because it has a good deal of loft, and will emphasize the quilting. Wool is ‘indiscriminate’ – that is, it will ‘poof’ the quilting on both front and back. However, with the 80/20 under it, the ‘poof’ will particularly show on top.

Sunday morning after the service, Larry and I sorted our Christmas cards into the paper bags labeled and set up on tables in the Fellowship Hall.  I discovered two of the newlyweds had not been added to my address book, so when we got home, I added them in and addressed Christmas cards for them.  We took them last night.

All afternoon yesterday, Larry had a venison roast smoking in the Traeger grill.  We had a few bites before heading to church for our Christmas program, and it was soooo good. 

If you’d like to watch our Christmas program, it’s here:  http://www.bbccolumbus.com/sermons.htm.

Lydia, Jacob, and Jonathan were sick and unable to be in the program (Lydia would have played her violin with the strings).  Poor kids!  It’s always so disappointing to get sick and miss the Christmas program.

I almost missed once, when I had the measles...  and I was supposed to do the entire Scripture reading! 

I recovered in the nick of time, but I sure felt bad up until I knew I could make it.  I was 11.  My voice was weaker than usual, and we had no mic system.  But I gave it all I had, and people said they were able to hear me all right.  By the end of the program, though, my throat was so tight with the effort, I could hardly swallow.

We came home last night with a large sack of cards to look through, the great majority having children’s and family pictures in them.  I love getting pictures.  Some of my friends broke the ‘no present’ almost-sorta-kinda rule; there were wrapped gifts in our bag.  

We had a late-night snack of venison off the Traeger grill, fresh vegetables (broccoli, carrots, cherry tomatoes) and dip, and fresh fruit (fresh-cut pineapple, apples, grapes, mangoes, and honeydew), with Tropicana orange juice, and a candy bar for dessert. The church hands out a bag of nuts, candy, apples, and oranges to each person who attends the Christmas program.

One of my friends gave me a complete copy of all of our Christmas poetry from years gone by!  You can’t imagine how totally delighted I am.  My book of poetry, including many poems by my sister Lura Kay, my friend Penny Golden, and several that I had written, was given to someone back when I stopped being the pianist and my niece Susan took on the job.  It was an accidental parting; I hadn’t intended to get rid of it! 

Years before, I had typed up all those poems uniformly, in the same format.  Before, we had them done on a variety of bad typewriters with dilapidated ribbons, and copied on poor Xerox machines with dry inkwells.  Even the pages weren’t all the same size.

I think I typed them all on my very first computer, but I could be wrong.  Actually, it’s more likely I typed them on the Word Processor I had before the computer.  If on the computer, they were lost when that old relic bit the dust.  I made the purple-mohawked gink at Radio Shack promise he wouldn’t reformat that computer when I took it in for service, because I didn’t want to lose what I had on the hard drive. 

He promised. 

And then he reformatted.

The thing I most regretted losing was a little video clip of Victoria opening presents on her second birthday, holding up a new dress in front of her, a balloon in her mouth – she was trying to blow it up without holding onto it, and it was flapping about like an extra-long tongue.  Then she lost it entirely as it went shooting out of her mouth, and somewhere off-camera Caleb could be heard laughing.

This Kimball grand piano in Lydia's great room is the one my father got for me when I was 13 years old -- on the very day Jacksons came to town.

And now, I have a handful of gifts to wrap (people gave me gifts, and I didn’t give them much of anything in return!), and several thank-you notes to write. 

Then... I shall start quilting the Atlantic Beach Path quilt!

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