Last Tuesday, I hemmed a dress that Emma planned to wear to the Christmas program the following night. That was the first time I used my sewing machine in a long time.
It was almost 3:00 p.m., the time I
usually call Loren, when he arrived at my door, looking for Larry. He’s often quite surprised to learn that
Larry’s at work. He was hoping Larry could
cut his hair. I promised to let Larry
know right away; he hasn’t been working quite as late as usual, these winter days.
Since he was here, I filled a lunchbox
with food for him – except I didn’t have any meat fixed, and that would’ve
taken a little while. But he was
satisfied with vegetables, juice, fruit, yogurt, crackers, and cheese.
A little before 6:00, Loren called to
say he’d managed to cut his hair himself.
He has a vacuum trimmer kit that works well for a do-it-yourself
operation. He did a right fine job of
it, too.
I finished hemming Emma’s dress...
steamed it – and the iron got starch (from the quilt I did for my customer) all
over the dress. The dress is black, so
of course the starch showed up in big white glaring streaks. I tried wiping it off with a damp cloth with limited
success. So... into the washing machine
it went, on cold and delicate.
It had to be hung to dry, and that took
a little over an hour. But finally it
was done, and I took it back to Emma.
Home again, I decided chicken and
dumpling soup was just the ticket, along with chicken egg rolls (since there wasn’t
a whole lot of soup). We had dark sweet cherries for dessert, with grape
juice to wash it all down.
I intended to go downstairs and put away all my gift-wrapping paraphernalia next, but I forgot all about it – out of sight, out of mind – and instead trotted happily upstairs to my little office and started scanning old pictures. Here’s one of my favorites from a trip to Colorado in August of 1999.
These are alpine asters; the photo
was taken by the Taylor River near Almont.
Such a delicate little flower, and yet they grow high in the mountains
where conditions are anything but mild.
Wednesday, the day we had planned to
have our Christmas program, a blizzard struck.
Snow was coming down hard, and the wind was ferocious. Most of the morning and afternoon, we could
hardly see the neighbor’s house, which is across the lane to the north. In the early afternoon, it was 20°, with a
wind chill of 0°. That’s the biggest
difference between ‘real’ and ‘chill’ temperatures that I’ve seen in years.
I cranked up the furnace and headed
downstairs to clean up all the leftover boxes and Christmas paraphernalia.
It didn’t take nearly as long as I’d
imagined it would. In an hour, I was
turning off all the lights and heading up two flights of stairs – and soon I
was in my freezing cold little office trying to scan pictures.
Larry came home at 2:30 p.m. He’d gone to a job in Omaha that
morning. Though weather was bad all
around Columbus, they were able to complete the job in Omaha, which is farther
south, and sometimes misses the brunt of the storms we see here. There was a wreck on the highway, Larry said,
a mile to our east. Judging by the
damage to the vehicles, it appeared that someone had slowed or come to a stop,
probably because they couldn’t see where they were going, and someone else had
slammed into them.
By a quarter ’til five, it was 18°,
with a wind chill of -4°. Wind gusts had
been clocked at almost 70 mph. “Quite a
breeze!” remarked the radio announcer cheerfully.
We all watched the weather and hoped
the weathermen were right in saying the snow would stop and the winds would slow,
so that it would clear up a little by 6:00 or 6:30 p.m.
It was so cold in my little office, if
was downright miserable. Larry
put some insulation beside the door leading into the unfinished addition, but
that didn’t help, because that wasn’t where the wind was blowing through like
an Arctic blast – it was all around the door itself, through which cracks one could
clearly see the light of day. I had the
big EdenPURE heater on full blast, not a foot from my legs – and I was still
frozen, and my hands were so cold I could hardly type or pick up the pictures I
was trying to scan.
Here are a couple of the pictures I
scanned. They’re slightly blurry, but I
like them anyway. Teddy had come for a
haircut, and afterwards we gave him some chicken enchiladas and an apple
flauta. He no sooner sat down in the
recliner, plate in hand, than Socks leaped up on the back of the chair, and
commenced to getting closer... closer... closer... to those enchiladas. He liked the chicken, the cheese, and even
the tortilla wraps. And he was pretty
sure Teddy liked him well enough to give him a tidbit or two.
(Teddy did.)
Larry rummaged up the gray tape and
came to apply it around the office door, but by then I’d begun moving all my
Jetsam and Flotsam into my quilting studio. This included the printer/scanner, my laptop,
mouse, mousepad, keyboard, album, the decorative boxes I perch the laptop,
mouse, and keyboard on so that I can do the work while standing, coffee mug
warmer, coffee (which was lukewarm despite being on the warmer with a lid on
top of the mug), the vaporizer (which helps my eyes immensely), and the
EdenPURE heater. Oh, and my cellphone,
the cats’ little container of treats (gotta keep that thing handy!), Kleenexes,
lip balm, and eyedrops. See, I told
you it was ‘everything’!
My hands had gotten so cold I could
barely feel them, and when they started warming back up, they hurt.
Here’s Joanna at about age 1 ½.
By 5:00 p.m., it was 17°. It would soon be time to get ready for our
Christmas program, if indeed we were still going to have it.
I walked over and peered out my studio
window. The glass was partially covered
with ice crystals, but, just as the weathermen had promised, it was clearing in
the west. The sky, though overcast
directly overhead, was pale pink and blue over there, and the setting sun was
shining on the neighbors’ front windows.
Winds were at a steady 36 mph, and gusting up to 58 mph, or at least so
said WeatherBug. Here at our house, it
sounded like the gusts rarely ceased.
But the Christmas program was a
go. We backed out of the garage into the
gale at 7:15 p.m.
The roads had been plowed and sprayed,
but spray doesn’t do a whole lot of good when the winds keep scouring those roads
with snow.
As we drove east on Highway 81, Teddy
and Amy pulled from their road onto the highway behind us. Both our Jeep and Teddy’s big twelve-passenger
van slid a little when the wind gusted, but we weren’t going fast, and nothing
too scary happened.
We very much enjoyed the Christmas
program, particularly since a good number of those children are our very own
grandchildren.
After we got home, Larry and I spent
over an hour going through all the cards and pictures we received from our
friends. That’s one of my favorite parts
of Christmas – looking at all those pictures.
Loren didn’t come to the program that night,
as he didn’t want to go out in such weather.
Here’s Larry holding Ethan at about six months. Uh, that is, Ethan is six months. Larry is considerably older than that. He was nearing his 44th birthday,
to be exact.
Thursday afternoon, Larry came home unexpectedly for
lunch. He pawed around in the freezer
and the refrigerator, then went downstairs to look in the new freezer. He pulled one item out, thinking it was a
burrito. That was one huge burrito!
It was braided bread.
He decided he wanted it for supper, and
wondered what to do with it.
I, busy fixing Loren some food, told
him, “Just follow the instructions.”
He did so.
Or so I thought.
I headed off to Loren’s house, taking
him the cards and gifts we’d brought home from church for him.
While I was there, his neighbor man brought
him some cookies and a big Hershey’s candy bar.
Loren let him in the door, thanked him... and told him, “I have some
people staying with me now.”
The man immediately looked relieved,
nodded, and said, “Oh, that’s good!”
(Loren always sounds so plausible!)
I walked behind Loren, so he wouldn’t
notice me, and then shook my head to tell the man no, that wasn’t the case.
I couldn’t tell if he noticed or
not. Then Loren added, “Yes, several
girls and Norma...” I shook my head
again, and that time the man glanced my way and smiled just a bit.
Either he understands, or he’s
sympathetic because he thinks I have a tic, I thought.
When I left Loren’s house shortly
thereafter, I called the man. His wife
answered.
I, suffering from the usual phony
baloney, couldn’t get all my information out quickly enough, or in the right
order. I said, “Hello, I’m Sarah Lynn
Jackson.” (So far, so good.) “Are you Mark Stankowski’s wife?”
BLAAAAAT
(Horn blowing for ‘wrong statement next’.)
Pause.
“Yes,” she said icily.
I gave her Statement #3 that should’ve
been Statement #2: “I’m Loren Swiney’s
sister.”
See, I wanted to make sure I had the
right phone number before I started spewing out information... but... well, it’s
hard to say it all at once, even if I am a fast talker.
That last bit of info changed
everything.
“Oh!
Yes! Hello!” she said in a very
friendly tone. “Here, I’ll hand Mark the
phone; he’s right here.”
I made sure he understood my ‘sign
language’ (he did), told him how much we appreciate them being good neighbors
to Loren, and added that I call Loren and then bring him supper each day, which
he was glad to know. He assured me that
they would call us if they see anything amiss.
When I got home, I put things away in
the kitchen – and found the strawberry cream cheese braided bread Larry had
wanted. It was still in its plastic
wrap, lying on the stove.
I turned it over and read the
instructions.
Larry had read the top line on the
package: “Prepare from thawed
state.” With that, he tossed it down on
the oven to thaw.
But... here are the rest of the
instructions:
1.
Remove frozen bread dough from wrapper and place on a
greased baking sheet.
2.
Set icing packet on counter for later use.
3.
Spray plastic wrap with baking spray and cover frozen bread
dough with it.
4.
Allow bread to raise at room temperature for 8 to 12 hours
or until bread has doubled in size.
5.
Preheat oven to 325°F.
6.
Remove plastic wrap from bread dough and bake on center rack
for 22-27 minutes until golden brown.
7.
Let cool 10-15 minutes.
8.
Apply icing before serving.
I wonder what would’ve happened if I
had not noticed that braided bread sitting there, still in its package? Would it have stopped rising and turned into
a brickbat? Or would the plastic package
have exploded, sending bread dough particles high and wide?
What with the kitchen being chilly that
day, the bread took a while to rise. We
didn’t get a piece of that strawberry-cream cheese braided bread until almost
9:00 p.m.
Friday was Christmas Day. That afternoon, we took Loren some deer
roast, baked potatoes, carrots, and onions, peaches, yogurt, and peach/banana/mango
drink. We gave him several pairs of thick
wool socks, a bottle of Absorbine, Jr., and a big picture book of Israel. He was so delighted with that book, he
started going through it, one page at a time, reading the captions, until I
pointed out his other gifts, and mentioned his cooling food.
“We should’ve saved that book ’til
last!” I exclaimed, laughing. “Remember
what used to happen if we had books for Daddy?” I asked. “We always saved them for last, so he wouldn’t
get all stymied and lost in one, and never come up for air again.”
Loren was laughing; he certainly did remember that.
After
leaving Loren’s house, we dropped off some gifts for Lura Kay and John H.
Saturday, I scanned more old photos. I have 8,073 photos scanned now.
Kurt and Victoria invited us for supper
that evening. Victoria fixed the most
scrumptious cornbread layered salad.
We’d never had anything quite like it before. Mmmm, it was yummy.
Later, we went to Wal-Mart and picked
up a couple of birthday gifts I’d ordered for Warren, Teddy and Amy’s 8th
child, who would be six the next day. It
had been difficult to find something in stock, but finally I settled on a
Wilson youth basketball and a little LED camping lantern.
How do those Wal-Mart pickup towers
work, anyway? Are there little
leprechauns inside them, running madly about, correlating the barcodes on
people’s cellphones with the codes on the bags and boxes?
After our usual Sunday School and
morning church services, we had our Christmas dinner. Hester told us that as she and Andrew and little
Keira were walking to the Fellowship Hall, somewhat slowly on account of the
line of people, Keira said, “All these people are in my way!” hee hee
Our evening service was moved to 2:00
p.m.
Later, we went home and loaded gifts
into the Jeep, then took them to the cabin where we planned to have our family
gathering Monday night.
Next, we gave Warren his presents. I even remembered the batteries! I
deserve a medal for that, I think.
Here’s a picture Amy sent me of Warren taking his lantern to bed with
him that night.
We went home for half an hour, and then
headed back to Hy-Vee to pick up the vegetable and fruit trays and the coffee I’d
ordered for our get-together.
By then, it felt like a looong, loooong
day. And it wasn’t over yet. When I checked my email, I learned that my
cousin Elaine, who lived in North Dakota, had passed away. She was 77. She’d suffered from
Alzheimer’s for several years, and had had a stroke last week. After being sent home from the nursing home
with hospice care, she’d only lived a few days.
She had not been allowed to see her family much at all this year on
account of Covid-19, and had not fared well.
So awful.
This afternoon I took Loren
ancient-grain-encrusted cod, carrots and onions in broth, V8 cocktail juice,
peaches, peach/banana/mango drink, and a can of clam chowder to put in the
cupboard, in case the weather is bad tomorrow.
He had a little plate of cookies on the
table, and offered me some. I turned
them down. “I’m not hungry,” I said, and
then laughed and added, “It’s not my time of day for eating cookies!” Then I asked, “Did that remind you of Uncle
Don? He used to say that. He never, ever ate snacks between
meals!”
Loren remembered. He mentioned his Christmas pictures, which
were spread out in a fan shape across his table, and he pushed out a chair for
me. I realized he was lonesome, and didn’t
want me to rush off. So I took off my
coat, sat down, ate a cookie, picked up several of the pictures, and talked
about the people in them. There were Paul
and Jennifer’s large family (Jeremy’s and Maria’s uncle and aunt); they are
good friends. Loren mentioned how much their
sons Brandon and Lucas look alike, and I pointed out Lucas and Sarah Kay and
their two children, Gideon and Felicity, and Brandon and Lynette’s three little
boys, David, Joshua, and Judah. Lynette
and Sarah Kay are our great-nieces.
“Those five little children would be
Daddy’s great-great-grandchildren,” I told Loren, “and they are our
great-great-niece and great-great-nephews.”
He hadn’t realized that, and he promptly
set the picture apart from the others, to look at it later. He had Caleb, Maria, and Eva’s picture at the
front of a separate little stack of family pictures. I pointed at Eva, and said, “She’s been a
real blessing to them.”
“I’ll say!” he agreed. “They had it pretty rough.” He keeps Liam’s pamphlet from the funeral
home on the table, and he does remember what happened last year when they lost
their first baby.
We were having our family get-together that evening
at River
Land Cabin by the Tailraces, the confluence of the Loup Canal and the Loup and
Platte Rivers.
I debated whether or not to invite Loren, and
eventually decided not to, for several reasons:
1) the party would start about the time he generally goes to bed;
2) it would be dark and in a strange location some distance from his
home, and if he came, it would probably have been best if we brought him there
and then took him home again; 3) there would be fourteen adults and 21
grandchildren from age 19 down to 3 ½ months there, and that translates to lots
of commotion. Loren doesn’t do well with
lots of commotion; and 4) he is much more likely to get all mixed up and
stressed in the evenings, or if his schedule is changed. I felt bad leaving him out; but it was probably
for the best.
Around 3:30 that afternoon, Hannah messaged our
family group that she was worried that the turkey she was smoking in the
Traeger grill and then finishing baking in the oven wasn’t going to get done.
I found her message shortly before 5:00 and wrote
back, “We
should all have one of those giant fryers, just in case the Traegers fail. You can dip a woolly mammoth in those things
for about one minute flat, and presto, it’s DONE.”
Hester then asked, “What time is the
party?”
“5,” answered Lydia, just as Caleb
responded, “Shortly before most of us get there,” and I wrote, “5?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Lydia:
😂
The agreed-upon time was actually 7:00
p.m.
At 5:50, Hannah sent a picture of the turkey
– and the little red thermometer button had popped up.
“Yayyy,” I replied, and then, “But Dr.
Fauci (or maybe it was Al Gore) said you can’t trust those pop-up
thermometer things.”
Hannah:
“Haha. I’m going to leave it in
there on a lower temperature for another 30 minutes.”
Victoria: It looks delicious 😋 😍 😊 👌
At 6:35, I sent this message to the
kids: The Jeep is loaded with gifts and
food, Daddy is home from work and almost ready to go. Things are looking promising.
(Or so I thought. As it turned out, we were late after all,
because when I thought Larry was ready, he still had to shave, put on his
hearing aid, clean his glasses, and put his coat on – and for some reason, that
took twenty minutes.)
Teddy:
Oh, guess I should get ready now, maybe?
Me:
Naaa… you still have time to milk
the goats and flour the grits.
We got there around a quarter after 7.
Meanwhile, Bobby and Hannah and family were
trying to find the place. Larry
neglected to send the promised location pin, Lydia’s location pin was not an
active link and unclickable, for some reason, Bobby’s text to Caleb (“We’re in
Richland now”) (that’s a little town off to the east) went unnoticed because Caleb
had his ringer turned way down.
At 7:30, Hannah sent a message to the
group, “Well, we’re lost...” but nobody even knew it. Fortunately, Bobby found the place shortly,
and even managed to arrive before Teddy and Amy, so all was well.
Teddy came in, set up his
fancy-schmancy coffee-espresso maker... doled out a few cups ------ and then
his phone gave a jangling notification, he checked it – and announced with that
droll expression of his, “Nobody can use that coffee maker anymore; it just
sold on eBay!”
Here are Lydia and Jeremy opening the box that contains their New York Beauty quilt and the two matching pillow shams, which have king-sized pillows inside them. Notice that the box used to contain something for Andrew and Hester.
So... they barely get the
wrapping paper off, and Hester, who knows exactly what’s in the box (and is the
owner of the Graceful Garden quilt), moves in. (Mind you, Hester is our shy and quiet
daughter, which makes some of the things she does all the funnier.)
“You will note that that’s
my box,” she informs her younger sister with a deadpan face.
Lydia, who’s a good five
inches taller than Hester, looks down her nose.
“You will
note,” she retorts in a hoity-toity tone, “that you have
been scribbled out!!!”
🤣🤣 🤣 🤣
As I
edited my photos after getting home, I came to a good one of Nathanael – except
his glasses were glaring, totally obliterating one eye. I put the picture into Corel PaintShop Pro X8
and used a clone brush to repair it as best I could. Why did they not make clone brushes
invertible?! Anybody who has ever
tried to edit eyes knows you should be able to invert the clone brush.
If I was
smart enough, I’d invent it and become a gazillionaire. But I’ll betcha that pricey editing program
PhotoShop already has just such an option.
...
searching Google ...
Yep. “Mirror clone image”, they call it.
Hmmmm...
maybe my program will do that, and I just don’t know it.
...
searching Help Topics ...
Nope. Nothing under ‘mirror clone’ or ‘invert
clone’, either one.
Well, I
didn’t do too bad, I guess. It’s
certainly a lot better than it was.
I
sent the picture to Hannah and said, “Ask Nathanael if he feels funny. I just put his right eyeball in his left eye
socket.
Love,
Mama”
Here are Jeremy and Lydia with the New York
Beauty quilt, and below are Caleb, Maria, and baby Eva with the Atlantic Beach
Path quilt.
Our
oldest grandsons are now ages 19 and 16, and our oldest granddaughters are almost 18 and 14.
Here’s a funny thing: we had a grandson... then a granddaughter...
then a grandson... then a granddaughter --------- and then 14 grandsons almost
in a row, with only one little girl in the mix. Next came 6 granddaughters in a
row.
As we visited in the cabin’s pretty kitchen
tonight, Warren came trotting in and scrambled up on one of the high stools,
looking for a cookie. He couldn’t reach
them, so I picked up one and handed it to him, saying, “Here you go!”
He reached out and took it, smiling at me –
and then he stopped smiling and stared at his hand.
I’d put a big piece of cauliflower in it. Hee hee, his cute little face looked so
funny.
He grinned at me and handed it back. (I did give him a real,
honest-to-goodness cookie after that.)
I hope you had a wonderful Christmas.
,,,>^..^<,,, Sarah Lynn ,,,>^..^<,,,
