Journal: Old Pictures, Old Coffee Cups, & Customer Quilts

Last week, as usual, started with scanning photos in my old albums.  I sent these to Teddy, asking, “Do you remember this?”

Larry and some friends who owned this big loader were taking down a big tree that was dying and becoming a danger to our house.

Teddy, who was 2 ½, said he does indeed remember watching the tree come down, and then sitting in that big loader.  “It was some sort of a milestone, to me!” he laughed.

The other day, a friend was telling about installing a new washer and dryer.  Once everything was in place and connected, she ran a ten-minute test on the dryer.  “Our dryers have never had buzzers,” she said.  “This one does.  The three dogs looked on in amazement as I did a double back flip when the BUZZER went off.  But the washer did not leak, and the dryer neither shocked me (other than the buzzer) nor caught the house on fire.” 

I have a friend who has a couple of small boys.  One day Tracy got a new dryer.  She washed some clothes, tossed them into the dryer, and went back to doing other things.  Her youngest, Zander, was playing near the dryer when it finished drying and unexpectedly BUZZED.  LOUDLY.

Zander, age 4, after a moment of stunned silence, bellowed at the top of his lungs, “MOMMMMM!!!  THE DRYER BLEW UP!!!!!!!”  🤣

A friend and I were recently discussing hymns, favorite and otherwise.  When I was 16 and had only been playing the piano at our church for a few months, someone picked the song For You I Am Praying.  Now, I had never even sung that song before, let alone play it.  I had yet to plow my way through all the church hymnals, just to make sure I knew all the songs. 

But I looked at that page, and I thought, “How hard could it be to play a series of half notes and quarter notes?!”  I launched in.

However, my ‘ride ’em cowboy’ side took over, and I proceeded to play dotted eighths and sixteenths instead of the aforementioned halves and quarters.  (Nerves do odd things to fingers on keys.)  And thus we galloped through that song, pianist, organist, congregation, and all. 

I knew it wasn’t right, but once I got started with that timing in the introduction, I couldn’t stop bumping down the stairs on the back of my head and figure out the better way (à la Winnie-the-Pooh).  I glanced up once, and found the entire congregation – I think there were about 5,000 there that night – staring at me.  All 10,000 eyeballs.

(No, really, there were probably only 250 people or so.  But it sho’ ’nuff felt like 5,000.)

I went home and played that song right, without any trouble whatsoever, the first time through. 

We didn’t sing it again for a long time.  When we did, I played it properly – but the congregation, expecting a repeat, tried galloping as before, never mind the fact that I’d played the introduction exactly right!  haha  I stuck with it, and by halfway through the song, we were all on the same page, in the same timing, and in the same frame of mind.  (I think.)

Tuesday, I took Loren his supper at about 4:30.  He eats early... goes to bed early... and gets up early.  I set things on the table:  chicken breast filet, Mediterranean vegetable mix, Chobani Flip Lemon Meringue Pie yogurt [called ‘Flip’ because one corner of the container holds yummy crunchies and can be tilted up to spill into the yogurt], Mott’s apple juice, a banana nut muffin fresh out of the oven, and apricot halves. 

Happening to notice his honey bear on the table, I reminded him of how Daddy always had one on the table, and always put a spoonful of honey in his coffee.  He’d squirt it into his spoon until it was full enough that one small drip escaped.  He also put in a spoonful of powdered Coffee mate, one little slosh of half-and-half cream, and a tiny pinch of baking soda (the latter, because he didn’t like the bland taste of the distilled water they used).  The coffee itself was Instant Kava, and he was just as precise with the amount of coffee as with each of the additives. 

Because of the things he put into it, and the precision with which he did so, I called his coffee ‘Coffee Soup’.  We’d tease him and say he knew the exact number of Kava grains he put into his cup.  He knew to the millimeter how full to fill his cup (always the same cup) with water, so that when he added all that stuff, it would wind up mere micromillimeters from the rim.

Oh! – here it is! – the exact cup!

I loved smelling Daddy’s coffee in the mornings.  Sometimes after he’d traveled somewhere (he often went to visit other preachers and missionaries, or people who requested his help), my first clue that he’d gotten home during the night was the wonderful aroma of his coffee the next morning.  Every once in a while he’d let me have a small sip from his spoon, after blowing on it so I wouldn’t get burnt. 

Ugh, that coffee did not taste as good as it smelled!

Anyway, back to the honey bear.  One day when I was about five years old, he picked it up, meticulously squirted out that exact spoonful, and then set it back down again.  BUT... the bottle, being nearly empty and thus requiring a more vigorous squeezing than usual, hadn’t popped back into shape.  The bottom had gotten rounded in the squeezing.

The honey bear tipped over.

Daddy snatched it back up, doubled up his fist in the hapless thing’s face, and said in his big, booming preacher’s voice, “Now see here!  You stand up straight!!!”  He kerplunked it back down (hard enough to straighten up the bottom) – and it stood.

That was the first time in my short life that I had ever laughed ’til I cried.  Mama and Daddy both wound up laughing and totally tickled at me, because I couldn’t quit laughing.  That was just the absurd sort of thing I thought hilarious.

In the middle of telling Loren this story, I suddenly remembered ordering Malinda’s doll to hold still while I put its sock on a couple of days earlier. 

Malinda, though, reacted a whole lot like her Mama – our Lydia – would have done at that age:  with big eyes, and feeling just a bit defensive of her poor dolly.  Hee hee  I can just see Lydia’s cute little oval face and big hazel eyes at that age, staring at me reproachfully as I slaughtered her favorite stories, switching around all the beginning letters of words, like this:  “Hittle Louse in the Wig Boods” (Little House in the Big Woods)  haha

Here are Victoria and Caleb at Pioneer Village, Minden, Nebraska, in 2003.

In the last couple of weeks, at least three of my friends and family have asked if I spend a lot of time cooking for Loren and for Larry and me, and a cousin asked how I plan our menus.

I truly don’t spend all that long in the kitchen.  I try to choose simple, healthful foods that don’t take much time to prepare.  As for how I decide what to cook... well, it all started in Home Economics, grades 7 through 9:

I appreciate the very good teachers and books we had in Home Ec, where they first taught us the food groups, and then how to put healthful meals together.  I loved my Home Ec classes, and my teachers were wonderful.  I learned to make yeast breads in 9^th grade.  Mmmm... yummy.  I thought it was such fun.

When Larry and I were married, I really didn’t know much about cooking – but I had received one good Betty Crocker Gourmet Cookbook as a wedding gift, and I knew how to read and follow instructions.  For a couple of months, we had gourmet meal after gourmet meal – and they were very good.  It was a good cookbook!  Then I discovered by experimentation that I actually liked such things as plain garden-fresh green beans simply steamed, with butter and a bit of salt, better than a fancy-schmancy green bean casserole.  I liked steamed, garden-fresh carrots – again, with butter and a little salt – better than creamed carrots in a special white sauce.  And I knew very well that simpler diets were healthier.  I was only 18, but I cared a lot about healthful meals.

I had learned in Home Ec and also in Health Science classes that if one made one’s meals colorful with various vegetables and fruit, one would have a meal chockful of healthful vitamins and minerals.  Steaming is better than boiling – and frying is rarely a good option for anything. Broiling, grilling, and baking is a much healthier option than frying.

I put that knowledge to use back then, and still today.  So we eat lean meats baked or broiled, and not a great quantity.  We add colorful vegetables (seasoned with butter) and fruits... a bit from the dairy group (yogurt is always a good choice, and I’ve found that Loren doesn’t get the stomachaches he used to be so prone for, if I give him a small cup of yogurt with each meal)... 100% fruit juices with no sugar... and something from the grains group, such as a banana or cranberry muffin, which suffices as dessert, as do some fruits. 

I keep the refrigerator, freezer, and cupboards full of a variety of foods, with everything in its place, and when I come rushing into the kitchen to prepare a meal, I like to be able to quickly grab something from each food group, something different each day, and make a colorful, healthful meal that only takes about half an hour to 45 minutes to cook.  If I’m planning to bake a turkey or roast that takes longer, I put it into the oven earlier in the afternoon.

Schwan’s frozen foods are my favorites; they’re so much better quality than almost any other foods I’ve tried. 

It rained the first few days of the week.  The rain is welcome, for it was dry here. 

Wednesday, Caleb sent me a picture of Baby Eva.  She’s 7 months old, and she was practicing her new trick of waving.  She has an intent look on her cute little face -- and one little hand is all blurry.  🥰

Thursday, I got a few pictures scanned, called Loren at the usual time, and then fixed him some food.  Right about the time I was ready to head out the door with the food, the UPS truck arrived with four big boxes.  Three were full of frozen foods from Schwans, packed in thick Styrofoam boxes with dry ice.  The food stays rock-hard for hours in those boxes; they could wait until I got back home.

The fourth box contained a quilt top, backing, and batting from a lady in North Carolina.

You know, the trouble with giving Loren junk mail (the majority of which contains ads for ‘Breakthrough Fountain of Youth Pills!!!’) in order to keep him happy is that he then thinks he needs to order that stuff.  I do try to never give him ads for anything that might be harmful.

When I got to Loren’s house, I found him on the phone, and in front of him was every last card (credit, debit, insurance, driver’s license, etc.) from his wallet, spread out in rows.  He was ordering some sort of supplement that is supposed to contribute to heart/blood flow health.

I looked it up when I got home, and see that it probably won’t hurt anything, and might in fact be helpful.

The phone call took a year and a day, with a lady on the other end proclaiming the supplement’s great benefits, going on and on and on... Loren can’t keep track of all that.  He says people on the phone ‘talk way too fast’.  It took a good while to get the order straight.

Meanwhile, I put his food on the table, collected a few of my dishes to take back home, then stood and looked at a Colorado magazine on his table, wondering if he’s planning another trip (eeek). 

When I got home, I put the food into the freezers – except for an apple pie.  That went straight into the oven.  😋  We would have Salted Caramel Peanut ice cream on it.

Then I trotted upstairs to load my customer’s quilt onto the quilting frame.  The lady made the quilt reversible; it’s pieced on both sides.  This makes things a little more difficult, as it’s nearly impossible to get the top lined up perfectly with the backing on that big frame, with a large piece of batting between the top and the backing.  I told the lady this, and said I never, ever give any guarantees that it will be centered perfectly, but I would try my very most bestest.  😬

The top of the quilt is a French Braid design.  Look at these before and after pictures to see what a difference even a simple pantograph makes:

The panto is called ‘Curly Hearts’.

This quilt was made by one of those quilters (aka ‘piecers’) who makes quilting fun.  Her quilts are not only pretty, but she’s always particular in pressing her seams and trimming any ravelings.  Plus, she’s a very nice lady – which is much more important, after all, than whether or not her seams are pressed the right way.  😊  The quilt is a memory quilt for her sister-in-law.  The pieced back is made up of cotton, woven, and knit shirts and pjs of her brother’s, and included pockets.

I got two and a half rows quilted, and quit for the night.

Friday I worked on the quilt for about eight hours and finally had to quit, as my back was complaining.  The Avanté was quilting through the pockets, even the double knits, just fine.

Saturday afternoon, from my upstairs studio window, I saw Larry’s pickup pull up out front.  A minute later, someone came in the front door and called “Anybody home?”  Now, it’s usually Loren who says that, but this wasn’t Loren’s voice.  It should have been Larry’s – I saw his pickup, and the boots sounded like his, and the voice was almost his...

I trotted down the steps, and found Teddy in the living room grinning at me.  He asked, “Have you seen what Daddy did to the Jeep?”

That made my eyes get large, and I headed for the back door into the garage, answering “No,” as I went.  “What did he do?”

Teddy said, “You’ll have to see it...”

“Well, did he wreck it?!” I exclaimed.

“No,” Teddy hastened to assure me, just as I yanked open the door and peered out – at a different black SUV.

It was a 2017 Lincoln MKT SUV.

“What did he do,” I exclaimed in an even exclaimier voice than before, “buy something without letting me help choose it?!!!”

Teddy said in as guilty a tone as if he had done it, “Well, I think he wanted to surprise you.”

About that time, Larry walked into the garage, looking guilty and smug and pleased with himself, all at the same time.

He hadn’t actually bought it.  It belongs to the man for whom he often works on cars at the garage in Genoa.  We’re borrowing the vehicle while Larry fixes the four-wheel-drive on the Jeep, and repairs a rust spot.  I turned thumbs down on buying it, as we need to get some things paid for first.

I drove the Lincoln to Loren’s house to take him his food, spending a good deal of the time hunting for various switches and options on the large dash screen.  It’s a good thing the vehicle has sensors to keep one in one’s lane!  When you get close to either line, the steering pulls you back.

This picture of Larry and me is from September of 2003.

Loren called later Saturday evening, wondering what time Sunday School was in the morning, and where the church is, and how to get there.  I think the road work on 48^th Avenue, the route he generally takes to get there, has him worried – but then there have been a handful of other times he asked where the church was before the roadwork ever began. 

At one point, he said, “Well, I should be able to find it, because I’ve been there two or three times,” and I thought he was kidding – but when I laughed and said, “Yep, two or three times,” his response made me wonder if maybe he wasn’t kidding, and really thought that. 

This has been our church since before I was born.  My parents and older siblings came here in 1954, I think.  The church was added onto in 1969, and then totally rebuilt much larger in 2006.

I gave Loren directions, and told him to be sure and take along his cell phone.  I suspected he had gone to bed early, fallen asleep, then awoken a bit agitated.  This happened late Wednesday night, when he awoke thinking Norma was in his house.  He called Larry that night, wondering what to do.  Larry told him to turn on his lights, take a look around, make sure his doors were locked (they were), and then go back to bed.  After a bit, he agreed with this line of action.

The next day, I really don’t think he remembered that had happened at all.

I finished my customer’s quilt Saturday night.  The centering of front on back isn’t perfect, but it’s actually better than I had feared.  I’m happy that the pockets and the switching back and forth from cotton to double knits didn’t cause a bit of trouble.  The quilt measures 81” x 99”.

It was Ethan’s 17^th birthday yesterday.  We gave him a pair of leather and canvas work gloves and a pocket watch with glass front and back so that one can see the gears moving.

Larry has a bad cold, so he stayed home from church.  When I arrived, I was glad to see Loren’s Jeep right in the place where he normally parks. 

A person who belongs to one of the online quilting groups was explaining how a quilted table topper had turned into a bed quilt, entirely without permission.

That reminded me of when Hester was a little girl, about 4 or 5, just learning to crochet. She worked diligently – and wound up with a square that wasn’t quite square. It wasn’t square at all, to be honest.

She was sitting there gazing at that thing in her little hands, a mite disappointed in her handiwork, when along came big sister Hannah, who could merely look at a complicated, delicate crocheted piece, and then whip one up just like it or better in nothing flat.

“Here, let me help,” said Hannah, always kind and sympathetic with her little sisters.

Hester gladly handed it over.  Hannah folded it this way and that, and then whip-stitched it along the short and the long sides with neat, pretty blanket stitches.  She folded a wayward corner back, then got a big matching button out of my button box and tacked that corner down with the button.  She crocheted a loop on the other side of the thing (to hook onto the button), embroidered a daisy at the bottom, stuck a smaller button in the middle of the daisy, and there it was then, a cute little glasses case.  It hadn’t taken longer than 20-25 minutes.

She stuck Hester’s little plastic sunglasses in it and handed it over.  “There you go!”

Hester was delighted. She came running with it to show me.  “Just look!!!” she exclaimed, giggling.  “I crocheted a glasses case, and I hadn’t even known I was going to!!!” 😆

Hester, age 5, 1994

This morning a fellow quilter, after complimenting me on the centering of the front and back of the French Braid Memory quilt, asked, “Do you have any hints for doing that?”

“Sure!” I told her.  “Measure a lot, load carefully, keep your toes crossed whilst a-quiltin’ (since your fingers are busy), and whistle Yankee Doodle Dandy backwards, every other pantograph row.”  😁

As I type, I’m sipping Almond Amaretto decaffeinated coffee from J. L. Hufford Coffee & Tea Company of Lafayette, Indiana.  >>>...slurrrrrppp...<<<

My next coffee bean order is caffeinated, because the latest study shows that caffeinated coffee is better for us than decaf.  When the next study shows the reverse, I’ll switch back again.  😆  I can’t tell that it affects me, one way or another, probably because I don’t like it very strong.  I simply want it flavored. 

Oh! – I just remembered that the UPS man put something on my porch.  ...trotting over to the front door...  Whataya know, it’s my order from Christopher Bean Coffee Company.  Four half-pound bags of beans:  Chocolate Decadence, Creme Brûlée Truffle, Chocolate Cherry Cordial, and Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookie.  I like to get new and different flavors that I’ve never tried before.

Loren’s supper today was baked chicken breast filet, a baked potato, corn, applesauce, cherry Greek yogurt, and grape Crystal Light (because I’m running low on juice; some will be delivered tomorrow).

After leaving Loren’s house, I stopped at the nearby UPS Store to ship my customer’s quilt.  I discovered that if I request the ‘cheaper method of sending’, I get a much better price.  I didn’t used to know there was an option, since they didn’t tell me; so I’ve been thinking for a long time now that USPS was cheapest.  I’d hand them a box at UPS... they’d weigh it and give me a price.  At the US post office, they’d give me all the options.  Finally one day at the UPS Store, it belatedly occurred to me to just ask, for pity’s sake! 

Lo and behold, they were able to ship that particular box for me that day $15 cheaper than the first price they gave me, and it only took one extra day.

As a plus, the ladies who work there are friendly and nice, and their lobby isn’t 212° in the shade, like the post office lobby is.  I don’t have to climb steps or go up a loooong ramp, and there’s only one door to go through, instead of two.  So... I’ve switched my method of sending quilts.

In today’s news feed, there’s a photo of a tall whirlwind.

Dirt devils have always intrigued me.  We saw a lot of them when I was little, traveling in Colorado and Wyoming.  One day we were parked at a rest area (my parents and I, with our camper) in Wyoming.  Daddy and Mama were taking a nap, and I was exploring.  Way off in a distant field, a whirlwind kicked up.  Those Wyoming dust devils could reach far, far up into the stratosphere.  

Quicker’n a wink, I climbed over the fence, ran like everything to get to that whirlwind – and jumped slam-bang into the middle of it.

Oh, mercy, it was not what I expected.  It took my breath away.  It sandblasted me.  It wouldn’t let go of me!  I thought I’d never get out.  I wondered where I’d ever wind up, and what would become of me.  Finally it spit me out, and I blindly made my way back to our camper and fumbled ​my way ​in the door.

My mother gasped, “Oh, my goodness, whatever happened to you??!!” 

I had – until then – been her cleanest kid ever.  I could play outside all day in a white dress and come in at the end of the day as pristine as when I set out in the morning (and not for lack of playing mad-dash all day long, either).

I had to take a ​shower and wash my hair – and it seemed like days before all the dirt and sand was out of my eyes, nose, and ears.  Ugh.  I thought it would be something like being on a merry-go-round, only faster and more fun. 

Wrong.​  Well, not wrong about the ‘faster than a merry-go-round’ part.  Only about the ‘fun’ part. 

Back to the photo-scanning project!  I now have 14,958 photos scanned, and am working on the 51^st album.  75 albums to go.

A friend remarked, “I’m amazed that your scanner hasn’t suffered burnout yet.”

I started this project with a brand-new printer/scanner.  It’s a nice one, and I really like it; so I hope it hangs in there!  I think it’s going to breathe sighs of relief when I finally finish this project.  As will I.

Here’s our kitty Socks in 2002.

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