Journal: Infirmities, Aromas, and Sump Pumps

Late last Monday night, I went downstairs – and stepped in a big puddle.  The sump pump wasn’t working.  Larry obligingly ker-thumped on it, and the pump obligingly started up again.  Larry then assumed all was well, and the problem was well and properly fixed.

That would remain to be seen.  (Or stepped in, as it were.)

Tuesday found me cleaning house, washing clothes, paying bills, ordering groceries, getting some things together to go to the Goodwill, and watering houseplants.  After sweeping and mopping the floors, I got back to working on the wool/corduroy Log Cabin quilt.  

I like to use the Lavender Vanilla moisturizing hand cream Lydia made for me when I’m working with that quilt.  It smells good, and feels sooo nice on my hands.  ☺

Later that afternoon, I took my brother some food.  It was 94°, with a heat index of 98°.  The air conditioner was on – and creating another puddle in the basement, because the sump pump had gone kaput again, having evidently forgotten its ker-thumping of the previous day.

I texted Larry to inform him of the trouble. 

“I’m working in Fremont,” he texted back.  “I’ll stop at Harbor Freight and get a new one.”

But by the time he finished his job and drove by Harbor Freight, the place was closed.

And by the time he got back to Columbus, where he could’ve possibly found a sump pump at Menards, he’d forgotten all about it.

He gave it another thump, and it started up again.

“Just thump it, if it does that again,” he told me.

“Where’s your sledge hammer?” I asked.

He laughed.

I wasn’t kidding.

That day, I was listening to the news when the hourly report came on.  The newscaster confidently jumped in:  “Special Report, Coronavi------- uh, Nationwide Protests.”

He’d been announcing on coronavirus so long, he hardly knew how to say anything else.  The news agencies are so obsessed with it, they can barely spare a moment to tell us about such things as an earthquake with a 5.5 magnitude that struck Searles Valley, California, last Thursday.  The Sakurajima volcano was erupting that day, too, but I’ll betcha you never heard about it!

In addition to the sump pump failing, it occurred to me that the air conditioner wasn’t working worth a hoot, either.  I walked outside to the unit, thinking maybe the red button that resets the compressor might need to be pressed, but as I got near, I could hear the compressor already running.  However, there was ice all over the exterior hoses.

The thing was all frozen up, doubtless because we hadn’t changed the filter soon enough.  We turned off the AC, and left only the fan on until the unit thawed out.  At least that problem is fixed now.

But in the meanwhile, it was so hot upstairs that I couldn’t work up there, so I carried a few Log Cabin blocks down to the kitchen to finish removing the old quilting thread.

Out the window, I spotted a half-grown bunny trying to cool off in the shade of a big tree, ka-plunking down on his stomach and poking his legs straight out behind him.  Sure looked funny.  I wanted to do the same.

Wednesday was a beautiful day, though a little hot.  I worked on the terraced flower gardens below the back deck landing in the morning.  There are four levels.  It looks quite nice now.  A few irises are still blossoming, the peonies are in riotous bloom, and the Double Knock-Out roses are opening.

Whew, that was a lot of work.  I was 42 when I planted most of the flower gardens around my house.  I must’ve thought I’d stay that age forever!  I’m 59 now, and weeds are farther down and hang onto the ground harder than they did 17 years ago.  😆

It was announced on the radio that this year’s Platte County Fair will be closed to the public, and only 4H members will be allowed to participate.  Bah, humbug.  So far, Nebraska State Fair is still on.

A quilting friend wrote to confide that her sister, with whom she lives, is taking a new (to her) thyroid medicine.  “It makes her mean as a hornet,” she said.  “She yells at her grandchildren if they make the slightest noise – and then wonders why they want to be around me, and not so much her.”

I had the perfect solution.

“Teensy’s thyroid medicine makes him sweeter’n cotton candy,” I responded, “all cuddly and purry.  Maybe at her next refill, you could ask for Felimazole?”

Well, I thought it was the perfect (purrfect?) solution.

Late Thursday afternoon, I made a macaroni and cheese/tuna/broccoli casserole and took some to Loren.  I had no idea if he would like it or not.  Sometimes what he loves today, he will declare he can’t stomach, tomorrow – and further, he never has liked it, his entire life!  heh heh  That’s not new and different, though; he’s done that as long as I can remember.

I think he liked it; the dish was empty and washed the next day.  I thought it was scrumptious, if I do say so myself.  Anyway, I’m sure he liked the peaches and the southern-style biscuits, fresh out of the oven.

Victoria posted the cutest picture of Violet and Carolyn giving each other a big hug.  Cute little sweeties.

That day, I began putting the Log Cabin squares back together again.  There were 40 nine-inch squares.  I added 16 plain ones, and played with them in EQ8, trying to get it back together in something that would be pleasing to the eye.  It’ll be a ‘travel quilt’, I think.  I’m always glad, in the wintertime, to have a small blanket or quilt to lop over lap and legs when we’re traveling; and it’ll be nice to have the quilt in a motel room or our camper, too.

I’ll be glad to have that huge, heavy Jewel Box Log Cabin quilt out of my hair, turned into a couple of smaller, more manageable quilts.

By late that night (or early the next morning, depending on your point of view), the wool/corduroy Log Cabin quilt top was together.  (That block at the top isn’t really as dark as it looks in the photo.)

A couple of my friends are sometimes afflicted with gout.  Sometimes when they mention it, I take another look at foods recommended (and advised against) when one has a tendency toward the problem.  I see that my diet is exactly as recommended – except I do like 100% fruit juices (with no sugar or corn syrup).  Cherry juice is good; orange juice, not so much. 

I love orange juice – especially Tropicana Not From Concentrate with Lots of Pulp. 

Some fruits should be eaten in moderation.  Fruit is my dessert of choice.

And now I learn that coffee – caffeinated coffee – is good for gout, when drunk in moderation. 

I don’t have gout (usually) (every once in a blue moon, a toe or thumb sets up a howl), but I do have rheumatoid arthritis, with periodic flareups.  The same foods that help (or hinder) gout also help (or hinder) rheumatoid arthritis.  I’d be better off if I could lose ten pounds.  Other than that, it looks like my general lifestyle is just about as good as it could be, for coping with rheumatoid arthritis. 

A quilting friend of mine who lives just 50 miles or so to our east is a minister’s wife, and plays organ for their church.  One day we were discussing music, and she asked me if I’d ever played the organ. 

“Yes,” I told her.  “But when I do, I sound like a pianist at the wrong instrument!”  🤣

Friday, I hunted through my meager stash for enough large, coordinating pieces of fabric to put together to make a back for the Log Cabin quilt.  But after trimming three different pieces and getting ready to sew them together, I saw that a) I didn’t like how they looked together, and b) they weren’t going to make a big enough piece, and I’d need to find still more fabric to add to them.

Not liking that idea, I grabbed my purse and headed to Sew What, one of our local quilt shops.  Their back room has bolts of fabric on sale, so that’s where I like to look first. 

I barely entered the room before I spotted a bolt of maroon fabric with pine cones and branches printed on it.  Perfect!  I bought 4 ½ yards, hurried home, split the piece in half, sewed it back together to make a big square, and loaded it on my frame.  Then I pulled out a pile of ragtag batting, sewed enough together for the batting, and loaded it on the frame.  Next, the quilt top – and then it was ready for quilting to commence the next day.

We went to see Norma that evening.  We took her a wallet of CDs with our church music, Old Fashioned Revival Hour, and Chet Atkins on the guitar, for good measure.  She came to the door and let us in, but had to go lie back down in bed while we visited.  She’s in pain, and quite weak.

Saturday, I quilted... fixed Loren some supper... came home... quilted... 

I received a notice telling me that AQS is shipping my New York Beauty quilt back to me, as evidently there is no more hope for the show at Lancaster to go on, and the Charleston has also been canceled.  Rats.  Grand Rapids is still on, as is the rescheduled show in Paducah.

That night I finished the first row of quilting on the wool/corduroy/velvet Log Cabin quilt.

Somebody posted this on a quilting group:

My favorite question: “If I buy you the materials, will you make me a quilt?”

My stock answer: “If I drive you to work, will you give me your paycheck?”

Best response yet, don’t you think?

After church Sunday, I made some beef stew for Loren.  We took it to him, picked up some of Norma’s medicine that the pharmacy had mistakenly delivered there Saturday, and took it to her.

Today is Hester’s 31^st birthday.  We gave her some birthday gifts last night after church:  an umbrella (black on the outside, but with a bright pink dahlia printed on the inside), a suncatcher of dangling kitties made of glass and seashells, and jars of Pioneer Woman sauce and dressing. 

A little later, Hester wrote, “Thank you so much for the gifts!  Keira and I both enjoyed opening them.  😄  I love this umbrella and have definitely needed a bigger one, and the Pioneer Woman sauces look soooooo good.  The cat in the glass picture looks just like Spooky and is so cute!!  Keira’s pretty sure that’s hers.  Lolololol”

Hee hee  I thought of Keira when I stuck that kitty suncatcher in the bag.  😊

Perhaps you’ll recall that a week ago I saw a hummingbird at the lilacs, and put up a feeder?  Well, I haven’t seen a hummer since.

The house hasn’t smelled very good for a few days.  There’s that repugnant stench of cat spray – from stray heathen, atheistic cats that get in the garage, you understand; never from our nice Christian cats.  There’s a mildewy odor, too, from the garage floor getting wet when it rains – and now, possibly, from the puddle around the non-working sump pump.  These scents float in from the garage when the cats go in and out.  Both smells together are almost more than I can bear. 

And Larry cannot smell it!!! 

Something should be done to people who say they cannot smell something, when it’s right nigh to blowing my head off.

We’ve opened up the garage to air it out on the last few sunny days.  Today, upon realizing that the garage itself wasn’t as bad as it was right here in my kitchen and back hallway, I wondered if maybe one of those stray felines had snuck in through the cat door and sprayed somewhere.  I can rarely find the spot when that happens, as that horrid smell permeates the entire areal space of the main floor, thus rendering my worthy proboscis inept at its celebrated zeroing-in capability.

However, it was notably worse in a concentrated area between sink and back door.  In that spot, among other things, there is a collection of bottles of cleaning agents, a rubber mat holding the cats’ dishes, and a rug. 

I launched into a cleaning frenzy. 

After finishing the dishes, I washed off the aforementioned cleaning bottles, swept and mopped the floor from kitchen to laundry room, then sprayed Mrs. Meyer’s Multi-Surface Cleaner in basil scent on refrigerator, stove, cupboards, floorboards, doors, and pet door.  After waiting a few minutes, I wiped it all down.  I shook out the rug in the back hall, sprinkled it generously with carpet fresh, let it sit while I did other things, and then vacuumed it.

The house does smell better (a lot better), but every time the air conditioner comes on, it blows that bad smell my way.  This is odd, since when I go poke my nose directly into the vents and inhale, I find the air coming out of them smells fine.

I took a little time out to take Loren some supper:  pot roast, Normandy blend (broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, zucchini, and yellow squash), a ciabatta roll (fresh out of the oven), and dark sweet cherries.

I asked if he needed some clothes washed; he said he did.  Then, feeling bad about it, he said, “I’m afraid I’m burdening you with all this!”

“Naaa, I’ll just wash them when I wash our things,” I told him.  “Besides, I’m real updated! – I don’t have a wringer, or a washboard, either one.  I just have to push buttons!”

So he laughed and quit worrying about it.

By 6:30, our clothes were in the dryer and Loren’s clothes were in the washer.  I only needed to do a load of Larry’s work clothes, and I’d be done.

I went downstairs for something – and found that the puddle had turned into a lake.  Larry thought he got the sump pump fixed yesterday afternoon.  Doesn’t look like it.  😕

There goes the washing machine jingle!  Time out while I go put clothes into the dryer.

+++++++++++++++

Okay, I’m back.  Did you miss me?

I sure do like my new Maytag washer and dryer set with all the bells and whistles.  I love bells and whistles!  😁  I like the steam wrinkle-remover... I use the heavy-duty wash and dry... I use the gentle... the extra rinse... the fabric softener cycle... I’ve tried it all, and really do use it all.

Norma is not doing well.  Her head hurts awfully, even with morphine.  Someone stays with her most of the time.  Hospice nurses come in, too.  One talks at the top of her voice and hurts people’s heads, even when they weren’t hurting in the first place.  😬

Maybe she thinks all older people are deaf.  Or maybe she herself is deaf.

A certain woman doctor used to come into Mama’s hospital room, lean over and plant her fists on either side of Mama’s head and shout in her face.  😖

Mama asked me to make a large placard and stand it up on the foot of her bed, reading “I AM NOT DEAF!!!!”

I need to order some groceries.  I like to always have at least one extra of things we continuously need: shampoo, hair spray, bag of coffee, can of soup, sugar, etc.  Larry, on the other hand, prefers to run out and be woebegone about it for a couple of days before he finally remembers to replace whatever it is.  Or at least that’s what I accuse him of.  

He laughs and says, “But then I appreciate it all the more when I have it!”

All the roses are blooming – the Double Knock-Out roses, the old-fashioned roses, and the Wild Prairie roses.  My five or six old-fashioned rose bushes were started from a large root I found at my mother’s house when they moved it out to make room for our new church.  Her bushes came from clippings collected at my Grandma Winings’ farm in North Dakota in the mid-50s.  They might not be quite as pretty as hybrid roses, but they sure do smell a whole lot better!

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