Journal: Merry Christmas

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 44^th 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 8^th 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          ,,,>^..^<,,,