A
few minutes ago, I noticed a vehicle going to and fro on our lane. I paused and watched out the window for a
bit, and realized that the problem was that they were trying to back up, but there
is a slight curve to the lane. They were
having all sorts of difficulty maneuvering their vehicle around that curve
without landing in the shallow ditches on either side of the lane. Mind you, that lane is wide enough for two
cars to pass, if they’re careful.
I
couldn’t see through the car’s dark windows to get a look at the driver, but
whataya bet she has a blond ponytail, hmmm?
When
I was 15 and practicing driving with my father’s little 4-cylinder, 4-speed
Honda, doing figure eights in the large church parking lots, I tried backing into
a spot, and realized I wasn’t very good at it.
This
would not do.
I
proceeded to set up markers (big rocks, and/or pieces of wood) in a sort of
obstacle course – and then I commenced to backing through it, over and
over again, until I could plop that little car down anywhere, in a bare
minimum of see-sawing.
I
did something similar when Larry and I got our first Suburban. I had this
horror of becoming a laughingstock somewhere, trying unsuccessfully to parallel
park.
I
have never in my life backed a vehicle with a trailer on behind ------ no, that’s
not true. I just did it with our Jeep
and the U-Haul trailer, in the Black Hills. And that was the first time.
I
have the theory down pat; but I have little experience. 🥴 I know to turn the steering wheel the
opposite way you want the trailer to go – and the shorter the trailer, the more
quickly it will swivel.
After last week’s discussion over how far a
person can see from various altitudes, taking into consideration the curvature
of the earth, and my remark that it was sounding suspiciously like a story
problem (I loved math, especially deep stuff like accelerated algebra and
trigonometry, but convoluted story problems boggled my brain), one of my goofy
friends inquired, “If a Texan was traveling 200 miles toward the northwest and just
after he started he hit an icy patch, would he be able to see the Grand Teton
as he was spinning around?”
“No,” I replied, “because someone in Arkansas
was cooking pancakes atop his purple metal roof, and the cat stepped in the
syrup.”
“And you said you were not good at word
problems,” my friend said in an admiring tone.
I sat back down with my laptop Tuesday
evening... watched a few minutes of Household Horrors (Subject: Hoarding)... shuddered... turned it off...
and went and scrubbed the tub. I
evidently find much more incentive watching stuff like that than in looking
at videos of beautiful homes with gorgeous, pristine rooms. heh
Let’s hope I don’t dream about it, like I do
after watching video clips of car or plane crashes. 😲
Reckon I’ll ever get back to that Atlantic
Beach Path quilt?! Soon, soon... after a little more cleaning (or, if I watch
another hoarding episode, a lot more cleaning) and a little more
photo editing.
Larry was late getting home that night, as he
was making haybales at Teddy’s place.
This invariably happens when I make a particularly big, yummy supper. 🙄 It was melt-in-your-mouth roast beef, seasoned
baby baked potatoes, carrots, and onions, baked in the French oven Victoria
and Kurt gave me for my birthday. It
baked everything perfectly, and there was enough for three meals for us.
One problem: It’s heavy, putting it
into the oven and lifting it back out. Auuuuggghhh, my back. Next time, I shall try not to stuff it quite
so full. 😬
High
winds howled around the eaves that evening. I saw a long-haired
shi-hoo-uh-hoo-uh go sailing past the window with a Persian cat squalling along
behind him. Good thing so many Nebraska
residents are stout, cornfed souls!
A friend who’d gone with her family to the zoo
sent me a picture of a llama, and that reminded me of the following story,
taken from one of my old journals:
We were once at the
Denver zoo looking at a large field of llamas and alpacas and vicuñas. A
tall llama walked over to the fence, where people were petting it. It chewed
its cud contentedly and its long-lashed eyelids hung low as it enjoyed the
attention.
Enter a lady who
looked like she’d dressed for a fashion show rather than the zoo. Why would anyone go to the zoo in
high-heeled shoes?! She sashayed up and started talking to the llama
in a strident, high-pitched voice: “Hiiiiiiiiiii, llama, llama, llama!!!”
Some people haven’t a
clue as to how to read animals’ body (and vocal) language.
The llama’s eyes
opened wide. He raised his head, flicked his ears, and then held them
backwards at odd angles.
The rest of us would’ve
done the same, had we similar control over our ears.
That gal hadn’t the
foggiest clue that she was irritating that llama. Several more
intelligent souls backed cautiously away from the woman, and were wise to do so
-----
----------
because............
Do you know what
llamas do when they are irritated?
He did it, too.
He spit.
Right smack-dab in
that dolled-up doll’s face, he did.
Fact: llama
spit when they are irritated. Furthermore, you can tell just how
irritated the llama is by what’s in the spit. The more aggravated they are, the farther into
each of the three stomach compartments it will pull its spit. And the distance from which said spit is
pulled is directly related to the degree of revulsion in that sputum.
Now, I’m no expert on
exactly what compartment contains what, but I can tell you this: there was a whole lot of green slime running
down that woman’s face. Instead of closing her mouth, she screamed and
screamed and screamed.
Most of the people
nearby tried to keep their composure, but I particularly remember a man a
little distance down the fence line who laughed so hard he was doubled over in
half.
That day, Victoria
sent pictures she took of her family when they visited the Lauritzen Gardens in
Omaha as a third anniversary excursion.
In one, Carolyn is spinning around pointing at
something, which reminded me of Victoria when she was about that age, and I was taking
Christmas pictures at Pawnee Park. When Victoria thought I was finally
done, she whirled around, satin skirt twirling, pointing hopefully at the toys
across the way and looking back at me in question.
It was so cute, I had to promise her that we’d
rush home and change, then come right back and play for a little while.
And so we did.
Speaking of playgrounds, see this:
Wednesday,
a quilting friend was lamenting that she had missed National Cat Day, which was
Tuesday, October 29th. “It’s
okay,” I consoled her, “the cats still think it’s National Cat Day today. And tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.”
😄
The bank returned the
money for the latest withdrawal. Turns
out there have been others, once a year, back to at least 2014; they can’t look
farther back, because they put in a new system then. If I saw that check in the past, I would have
assumed Larry wrote it out for something. But this time, I thought, He wouldn’t
have spent that much, the week we need to pay the house payment! – so
I clicked on it to see what it was.
Larry must have
purchased membership with that company years ago, because they’re supposed to
help businesses get big discounts with their purchases. It was set up as an auto payment. We’ve had e-statements for many years now,
and one must click on each individual check to see details. Finally Thursday,
I did that.
Sigghhhhhh... that’s one of the drawbacks of having a shared bank
account. Or of me not being more
suspicious.
After leaving the
bank, I dropped off some things at the Salvation Army. I try to never make a trip to town without
taking something to donate at a thrift store.
The more I donate, the greater our tax refund next year.
That night, Lydia sent pictures of the kids
dressed in their Halloween outfits – three cowboys and one little cowgirl. 🤠😍
“We were planning to come out to see you,”
she wrote, “but we got tired, one kid needed the restroom, and the other needed
a bath after spilling the juice pouch he got for a treat all over the front of himself
🥴. So here are some pictures. The pictures are very quiet, don’t move much,
and are pretty cute. 😉”
In one picture, Ian and Malinda were looking
up into the sky. Lydia entitled it, “UFOs
– when aircraft takes over the photography session.”
We had that happen once, in which all seven
children (Lydia was then the baby) were looking skyward, and all were guffawing
wildly. But it wasn’t a plane, and we weren’t outside. We were in
the living room.
The UFO was Larry, and he’d just jumped the
couch. (My fault, I reckon; I had asked him to entertain
everyone!)
Larry was happy that night, having put gear
grease into his pickup, hooked up the steering column, reattached the brake
booster, hooked up the wiring harness for the steering column ... ... ... and
now his numerated list of Things He Put Together is getting a little too deep
for my pea brain, so I’ll finish the sentence by saying, “et cetera”. 😅
Anyway, having gotten the gear grease in the
thing, he was able to start it and check whether or not the transmission
works... and it does.
I cleaned out and sorted a couple more bins
of fabric and crafting things that had belonged to my late sister-in-law.
I was delighted to find in the bottom of the bin two large pieces of
nice-quality vinyl, one in burgundy and one in silver-gray. I have
patterns... hardware... and someday I will try making some clutches such as this: à
The rest of the stuff went to the Salvation
Army.
Saturday I filled the bird feeders for the
first time since ... ? late September, I
think. The birds really slack off on birdseed
from the feeders in the autumn, because of the abundance of seeds everywhere. But now that we’ve had several freezes and a
snow, they will once again start returning to the feeders. The juncos are back! Cute little things they are, in their dapper
charcoal tuxedos and pristine white shirts.
It was another busy night at Stonehenge as British
rangers worked all night to move the stones back one hour.
Here’s some helpful information for changing
your clocks; save it for next spring:
o
Smartphone: Leave it alone; it does its magic.
o
Sundial: Move one house to the left.
o
Car Radio: Not worth it.
Just wait six months.
o
Oven:
You’ll need a Masters in Electronic Engineering (or a hammer).
During our Sunday morning song service, Larry
was holding Carolyn, sitting next to Victoria, who was holding Violet, while
Kurt sang in the men’s choir. Larry was
sharing the hymnal with Victoria, and Carolyn ‘helped’ by also holding the edge
of the book. She smiled at her Grandpa
singing away – and then opened and shut her mouth, too, pantomiming singing,
though no sound came out.
Violet decided she wanted in on the
fun. She reached out and held the edge
of the book on Victoria’s side. Then,
after watching her big sister for a few minutes, she, too, opened and shut her
mouth, pretending to sing.
This cracked Victoria up until she couldn’t
sing – and that cracked Larry up.
Later, she said, “They looked like the Little
Rascals of Our Gang, pantomiming the music.”
Kurt and Victoria invited us over after
church last night for Larry’s birthday... but first we had to rush out to
Wal-Mart to get a gift for my sister’s husband John H. We got him soft yellow and black leather
gloves like some I inherited from Caleb when he grew out of them, because I
like them so much, and also a pair of Zebra pens.
We took them to him, and then wound up staying
a bit longer than I’d intended, because Lura Kay showed me the beautiful new
suit she and their son Robert (our pastor) had gotten John H. for his
birthday. She tried hemming the pants
Saturday night... but finally after removing her stitches several times, and
getting too tired to see well, she gave up.
I offered to do it for her. She
said she’d try again – but a little while ago, she sent me an email taking me
up on the offer.
They gave Larry a really nice Daniel Cremieux shirt from Dillard’s.
Carolyn
ran to Larry – and Keira ran to me, grinning and holding up her arms. So I scooped her up and carried her around
hither and yon, looking at pictures on the wall, at Violet’s bedroom and pretty
crib, and then popping out the other door to the living room to find her Mama,
which Keira thought was a crackerjack game, and wanted to keep playing.
“Mama!” she giggled. Then, pointing at the opposite doorway, “Walk-walk!”
So
play the game we did. She’s such a
bright and sweet little thing.
Carolyn
was a bit surprised to see me carrying her little cousin Keira around, and the
moment Andrew, Hester, and Keira departed, Carolyn ran for a book, gestured at
the loveseat, and wanted to sit on my lap. So we read about Corduroy Bear Going to the
Zoo, and Papa Bear Teaching Small Bear to Ride His New Bike.
I’m
a little extra-educated today.
Violet took a real
shine to Jacob, who turned Carolyn’s toy mop upside down over his head and let
the mop yarn hang down all over his face. She grinned at him... and when
he took it off, she pointed at it, pointed at his head, and demanded, “ ’gain!!!”
That made Jacob laugh, so Violet laughed, too.
The day our Joseph turned 4, he told me, “Mama, I just looked in
the mirror, and I still look 3!!!”
This was his reason for thinking thusly:
For a few months, he’d been practicing dressing himself when he
woke up from his nap. Of course, he had to undress himself before
he could then dress himself... and in so doing, he wound up with pants,
shirt, socks and all, wrong side out. Not knowing how to turn them right
side out (or perhaps not realizing they were inside out), he put them
back on – seam side out.
The first time I went to get him from his nap and finding his
clothes all wrong side out, I really was quite perplexed. Had I
done that, in the morning when I dressed him??
After it happened the second time, I decided to peek in on him when
he was waking from his next nap.
Accordingly, the third day, I listened for the slightest sound
coming from his room, stealthily opened the door a crack, and peeked in.
There he was, laboriously pulling his little shirt off over his
head, then removing his pants, turning them inside out in the process.
Then, with much care and a whole lot of work, he put them back on
– and of course they wound up seam side out.
“There!” he breathed quietly, smiling a little at his success.
Then he stopped smiling and frowned, looking down at his pants,
where the insides of the pockets were flapping on the outsides of the pants,
and there was no way to get into them.
And so it went, almost every day. I turned his clothes right
side out after his naps, and didn’t make inquiry, first because if I had’ve, I
might have laughed, and he was clearly a bit embarrassed over the matter.
Never make fun of a child when he’s trying hard to learn!
Flash forward a couple of months to the day of his 4th
birthday:
He got up from his nap – by this time, he was coming out of his
room on his own, rather than waiting for me to come and get him – and that’s
when he said in a sad little voice, “Mama, I just looked in the mirror, and I
still look 3!!!”
Poor little guy; he’d thought that when he turned 4, he would
finally, finally, be able to get those clothes on right side out!
So... we sat down with a pair of pants, a shirt, and a pair of
socks, and I showed him how to first turn them wrong side out... and then turn
them back right side out.
And that was the last time Joseph came from his nap with his
clothes all inside out.
I’m still deep-cleaning
various areas of the house, doing laundry, editing photos, hauling things to
the Salvation Army, and cooking (orange chicken tonight, with carrots, water
chestnuts, edamame [green soybeans] and onions, on a bed of long-grain rice). I just paid the bills and ordered some
Christmas gifts – name stamps for my daughters to use on their handcrafted
cards, or on the tags they put on their hand-sewn, knitted, and crocheted
items, and a coffee mug for son-in-law Kurt.
Back to photo editing!
,,,>^..^<,,, Sarah Lynn ,,,>^..^<,,,
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