Journal: Quilts, Quilts, Quilts

In answer to someone’s question:  The Atlantic Beach Path quilt weighs 15 pounds.  I haul it around with a forklift.

Tuesday, several people wrote to inform me that my Facebook account had been hacked.  So... if any of you got a private message from me asking, “Hello, how are you doing?” – that wasn’t really me.  I never ask anybody how they’re doing; I just let them muddle along in privacy.

Kidding, kidding. 

I assured those who let me know about the issue, “I changed my password, blew up my laptop, burned down my house, and moved to Guatemala.  All is well now.”

An elderly friend, after looking at my pictures from the Nebraska State Fair, commented wistfully that she hadn’t been to a fair for several years, because her husband is unable to walk long distances. 

Someone recommended a wheelchair, but that would probably mean the lady would have to push him, and she might not be up to that.  I told her about the motorized scooters that are available to rent at the fair.

 One time a few years ago, a quite elderly lady was coming along in one of those motorized chairs.  I smiled at her and moved over a bit.  

She grinned back and said, “I love these things!  They have horns on them!!!”

And with that, she beeped it several times, and went whizzing off down the walkway.  All the people nearby were laughing and waving at her. 

Tuesday afternoon, I loaded the Cosmos Tumbler quilt with the minky backing, positioning it so the nap of the minky would run vertically, so that when one brushes one’s hand downwards, it’s a bit rough; and when one brushes one’s hand upwards, it’s smooth.  That’s how I always did it when I made velvet, velour, or corduroy clothes for the kids, as this gave the fabric a darker, richer hue when viewed from the front or from above.

Joyce, my customer, chose a large meander pattern ‘in order to let the minky shine’, as she put it; so the quilting was going fast.

I was a little worried about Loren.  He had a headache Tuesday when I got to his house, so I rummaged up some acetaminophen in the cupboard. 

Wednesday, he had a sore throat and a cough, and said he didn’t feel well enough to come to church.  When I called him at 3:00, as usual, he was surprised I didn’t know he was sick, because, as he said, “Dearie (he’s called me that since I was little), I’ve been sick for days!”

I recommended vitamins, and he did find a multi-vitamin in his cupboard, though not the vitamin C I was hoping for.

Soon it was time to go to church. 

That night, Lydia sent pictures of the children, Jacob, Jonathan, and Ian, on their first day back to school (well, actually, Jacob is in 7^th grade this year, so he would’ve started the week before) – and Malinda, wishing she could go, too.  Judging from the pictures, Bella the yellow Lab and Monty the St. Bernard wished they could go, too.

We had a late supper when we got home from church, and then I went back to my quilting studio.  I’d tried hard not to stretch the minky too much from side to side when I loaded it, so that when it was released from the frame, the top would still lie flat.  But sometimes minky does pull quilting cottons a bit.  I quilted on, hoping, hoping, it would be all right.  There were no puckers; I knew that much.

I ran out of bobbin thread just as I finished basting along the side of the quilt in preparation for the last three-quarters of a row of quilting.  That is to say, not merely that the bobbin was empty, but that I didn’t have any more.  None.

The thread I’d ordered wouldn’t be here for days – in fact, it arrived today, right about the same time Joyce’s quilts were delivered to her front porch. 

In this little town, there is no Bottom Line thread to be found anywhere.  Fact is, there’s no ‘real’ longarm thread here at all.  However, I have sometimes found Gütermann or YLI long-staple thread at my favorite LQS (owned by my friend from Jr. High and High School), and it works great in my machine.  There are only medium-sized spools, though; no big cones.  And it’s pricey.

I wondered... do I have any Coats & Clark thread in that color, and would it possibly work in the bobbin, for these last few inches??

I pulled out the few remaining spools of Coats & Clark and took a look. 

Yep!  There was a spool of medium blue in precisely the same color.  However, Coats & Clark All-Purpose thread is anything but long-staple thread.  You should see it under a microscope!  It looks like a jumbled, messy bird’s nest.

But... I wound a bobbin.  I put it in my machine.  I started quilting.

The top thread broke in tiny little spots three times in the first few inches of quilting.

I laboriously picked out all the thread I’d just put in.

Ripping out quilting isn’t at all like, oh, say, taking out a seam in a skirt.  Now, if your quilting is perfect, and one small stitch gets broken, the quilting on an entire quilt will ravel out all by itself even whilst you’re a-runnin’ for the Fray Block.  But when you’re trying to get those stitches out??  Noooooo, the quilt will deliberately and purposefully hang onto every tiny stitch and each piece of thread, and it will take you three hours to remove what took you five minutes to lay in place.

Not willing to give up yet (after all, it matched!), I loosened the bobbin tension a little, tucked the bobbin case back into the machine, and started quilting – slowly, at only about half my usual speed.

And thus I finished the quilt, and then trimmed it.

When that quilt was released from the frame, I was very happy to see that it was going to lie nice and flat.  And ooooo, it felt sooo soft and nice.

I’ll betcha no one will evah, evah be able to find the spot where the Bottom Line ends and the Coats & Clark begins.  I don’t want to use that stuff again, though.  I hate going slooow! 

I did actually find some Coats & Clark longarm quilting thread one time, some years ago – at Wal-Mart, of all places.  They don’t carry it anymore, or at least it wasn’t there the last time I looked.  It worked fine in my older HQ16.  But this stuff I used to pinch-hit for Bottom Line was the core-spun, 100% polyester, all-purpose, 30-weight, 2-ply thread.  Not for longarms.  If I’d’ve put that stuff on the top, I doubt if I could’ve quilted more than two inches before it broke.

This Cosmos Tumbler quilt is such a nice combination:  the pieced top with its Cosmos (outer space) border, the soft, draping Quilters’ Dream black poly batting (not your grandmother’s polyester), and the excellent-quality, soft, thick minky.  Ooooooooo... 

If people could feel this quilt, never again would they give out that silly advice, “You don’t need batting if you use fleece or minky on the back.”  Yes, you do, yes, you do!  I tried one – only one – without batting, and I’ll never do that again.

“Joyce,” I wrote to my friend, “are you sure you’re going to get this quilt back?  Things do get lost in the mail, you know...”

Joyce made this for her great-grandson, who loves things to do with outer space.  His only request for a Christmas gift from her was a ‘soft blanket’; thus the minky.

The ‘meander’ is what many longarm quilters are told to learn first.  But... ((whispering))... don’t tell anybody, but that’s the first time I ever did a meander.  I’ve used a micro-stipple (like a very, very small meander) in backgrounds before, but never a large meander.  And another secret:  ((whispering even quieter))  I used a pantograph!  😂  Most people do it freehand.  But I wanted it exactly right.

Thursday, I loaded Joyce’s next Tumblers quilt – the fifth one.  She’s been enjoying her new Tumblers die for her electric AccuQuilt Go! cutter!  The Tumblers quilts I’ve been quilting for her will be Christmas gifts for her great-grandchildren.

I always name the quilts I do, in order to keep them straight in my records.  Usually I use the name the piecer has given it... but if she doesn’t tell me a name, I make one up.  I called this one, “The Owl & The Pussycat Tumblers Quilt”, and Joyce decided that was a crackerjack name, and kept it. 

This pantograph is called ‘African Heat Wave’.  The top thread is 40-weight dark charcoal by Omni, and the bobbin thread is 60-weight gray by Bottom Line.  The batting is Quilters’ Dream poly, in black.

I didn’t have any blue thread for the bobbin that exactly matched the cadet blue background, but the Omni dark charcoal looked pretty on the blue and blended with the colors.  The medium gray Bottom Line thread coordinated nicely with the charcoal, showed up well on the backing, and wasn’t stark and glaring like, oh, say, white would be.

 As I quilted, I listened to an audiobook called “Letters of a Woman Homesteader,” by Elinore Pruitt Stewart.  One letter was written by her little six-year-old daughter, Jerine, because their horse had run away with their cart, and, in hanging onto the reins for dear life, Elinor had hurt her hands and arms, and couldn’t write.  Listen to what Jerine wrote:  “My brother Calvin is very sweet.  God had to give him to us, because he squealed so much, he ’sturbed the angels.  We are not angels, so he don’t ’sturb us.”  haha

The Stewarts lived in Wyoming, not far from the mountains, in the early 1900s. 

I popped the Cosmos Tumblers quilt into a plastic bag and took it with me to Loren’s house when I took him his supper that day.  He likes to see the quilts I’m doing.  He thought this one was exceptionally pretty, and he enjoyed the story of the great-grandson who wanted a ‘soft blanket’. 

I go right on talking to him and telling him stories as I’ve always done, though I have to speak a little slower and pronounce words more clearly, and sometimes repeat myself.  And he carries on an (almost) perfectly intelligent conversation, so long as he doesn’t try telling one of his own stories.  Those are liable to get garbled and lose words and gain non-existent people.  But a lot of the time, he seems like his old self.  I’m thankful for those times, and just hitch up my hip waders and slog through the rest as best I can.  😏

His supper that night was Philly roast beef, a baked potato with a heap of butter, cornbread fresh out of the oven with butter and syrup, cottage cheese, strawberry cheesecake Greek yogurt, 100% mixed berry juice, V8 cocktail juice, and a little bag of those yummy red ‘candy’ grapes.  He spotted the cornbread, pushed aside the meat and potato, and dug right into that cornbread, exclaiming over how good it was. 

Larry got home late from working on vehicles at his friend’s shop in Genoa.  While he ate cornbread, I paid bills online and listened to stories about transmissions.  While he chewed, I griped about the Internet and told stories about quilts.  And we both acted quite a lot as if we knew what the other one was talking about.

Sometime in the early morning hours, I finished quilting The Owl & The Pussycat Tumbler quilt.  “I’ll mail it tomorrow,” I told my friend, who is even more of a night owl than me. 

(‘Tomorrow’ starts after I go to bed, sleep, and then get back up – never mind what time it is.)

This seemingly simple pantograph was a whole lot harder than it looks!  It needed to be very precise, and I just couldn’t be exactly perfect.  I did my best, though, and I think it’s all right.

Tiger kitty always has to come see what I’m doing when I take pictures out on the deck.  Don’t worry, I put up a hand like a traffic cop and say, “Stay off!” – and he does.  He never set foot on the quilt.  😊 

Even though he came to us late in life as a big ol’ stray, he’s learned lots of words and directives, and knows to do what I say – even while he also knows we’ll never, ever hurt him.  Someone in the neighborhood kicked him shortly after he showed up, and right before he claimed us; one day he was limping badly, and was suddenly scared to death of men and boots – even boots without feet in them.

He soon learned that Larry was so kind as to be a milquetoast, and if Larry is eating a piece of cheese and Tiger says, “MrrrRRROOOWWWwww!” – he’s a-going to get a handout, yes he is.  He didn’t even know how to take food from our hands, didn’t understand a thing about scraps.  He does now, that’s for sure. 

How a stray ever got to be obese is beyond me.  I give him a bit of Fancy Feast canned food each day (started doing that when I had to give Teensy his medicine for hyperthyroidism in the food, and didn’t want Tiger to think I liked Teensy better), and keep his bowl of dry food full with diet food for senior kitties, and he’s lost quite a bit of weight, and is now probably about right for this kind of a kitty.

I put the Cosmos Tumbler quilt with the rest of the minky into the box Joyce had sent the quilts in by using my vacuum on the bag, and with the same method managed to get the other quilt and the leftover backing into a little smaller priority box. 

Joyce had used some ‘scrap fabric’, as she called it, to make the backing for this second quilt wide enough to work with my frame and leaders.  This ‘scrap fabric’ is a medium blue on white, with guitars printed all over it.  Joyce didn’t like it much, and told me to keep it – then, upon learning that I sort of liked the stuff and might use it in a boy’s quilt, she proceeded to send me the rest of it!  Altogether, there’ll be about two yards of it.

I thanked her, then wrote, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I made you a gorgeous quilt – with the guitar fabric smack-dab in the middle of it?  ((giggle))  Well, I won’t, of course; I don’t have enough spare time in my life to make quilts as practical jokes.  But it would be funny.  (Only I’d have to make you a ‘good’ one, and get you to return the ‘ruined’ one.)”

That reminded me...

I did something similar in my 12^th-grade Business Administrations class:  we were supposed to find a job advertisement that would be appropriate for all of us budding Administrative Assistants and write a résumé telling our potential boss or manager all our wonderful qualities and abilities.

My teacher was Mr. Jackson, one of my favorites.  I still keep in touch with him.  He and his wife came to our wedding, and to the weddings of some of our children, as he was able.

Anyway, he said to our class, “Now, apply for a job that suits your talents and skills!  I have not trained you up to be waitresses and barhops.”

This was the kind of assignment I loved.  When I got home, I grabbed the newspaper, scanned through the ads until I got to ‘restaurants’, and chose Long John Silvers.

Then I proceeded to write up a résumé all about how gifted I was at trekking madly about with large, full trays stacked up both arms, and how skilled I was at setting plates exactly so-so before potential diners so that the beady eyes of the mackerels would be gazing right up at the impending consumers in stark terror. 

“Ahoy the eater!”

This went on for several more paragraphs, with me singing my own praises, and adding in all sorts of pirate jargon. 

I signed off, “Bon Voyage!  Your faithful, diligent, hardworking, and rule-following student, Sarah Lynn Swiney.”

Then I hunted up a job ad for a secretary in a local law firm, and wrote quite the Hoyle résumé, faultless and sedate.

The next day in class, I handed in ------ the résumé for Long John Silver’s.

After school, along about suppertime, I drove to Mr. Jackson’s house, proper résumé in hand.  It was a lovely, late spring day, and the Jacksons had their front door open.  I could see through the screen that they were both in the kitchen.

Just as I got to the top of the porch, Mr. Jackson burst into his big, rollicking laugh.  I stopped and stood still.  When he could get a breath, he said to his wife, “That Miss Swiney!” – and he proceeded to read my résumé out loud.

It really was pretty good; I was snickering at my own writing.  (I still have that thing, somewhere.)  I heard his wife laughing.

As soon as things quieted down, I knocked on the door. 

“And... there she is now!” I heard him say.  He came hurrying to let me in. 

I handed him the ‘good’ résumé.  “Thought you might want this,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

He grabbed my arm and gave it a little shake.  “You scallywag, you!”  (That was one of his favorite words.  I always found it endearing, coming from him.)  “You had the right one with you all along, didn’t you?” 

I nodded, and grinned at him.

In the years since then, he has often mentioned that résumé in his Christmas notes to us.  And then I found out from some of my younger friends that he read that Long John Silver’s thing to each of his Business Administrations classes, every year when that assignment came up!!!  That’s not all.  He told them who wrote it!!!  😲

When I called Loren at 3, he was worrying over whether or not bringing him food each day is too much for me.  I assured him it isn’t, and I’m doing fine. 

It does keep Larry and me somewhat tied down, though we can ask our children for help if we need to.  But there are times in life when other people’s necessities are more important than one’s own fun and games.

His meal that day was baked Alaskan salmon (I sprinkle bits of peppers and onions over it, the last five minutes of baking time), French-cut green beans, cornbread, Chobani Greek blueberry yogurt, peaches, and White Cran-Strawberry juice.

He opened the door as I stepped up onto the porch, greeted me, followed me up the half-flight of stairs to the living room/kitchen area, and said, “It’s good to see someone from home!”

I, being basically a smartypants, and never lacking for a retort, opened my mouth to say, “From the Old Folks’ Home?” – thought better of it, and closed my mouth, smiled, and nodded instead.

You know how people, after some sort of an encounter with someone, often go away thinking, Why didn’t I say -- -- --!  ?  Well, I, on the other hand, often go away thinking, Oh, my!  Did I say that?!  😲

Leaving Loren’s house, I took the quilts to the post office.  Why does it seem like shipping rates rise every time I mail something??

Here’s a quilted jacket we saw at the Nebraska State Fair, and several doilies crocheted with fine thread.  

I’ve posted pictures of all the quilts at the Nebraska State Fair, including my Atlantic Beach Path quilt.

On my blog:  Quilts at the State Fair

Or on Facebook:

Quilts at the State Fair (FB)

When I got home from the post office, I hemmed some dress pants (complete with cuff) for Kurt, and after that I added a few pantographs to my webpage. 

My stomach growled. 

Was it suppertime??  I looked at the clock.  8:00 p.m.  Suppertime had come and gone.

I pulled out deli-fresh cracked black pepper turkey breast and mozzarella, and put it on 12-grain buttered toast.  I had Oui blueberry yogurt (fruit on the bottom), cornbread, and cranberry juice to go with it.  Larry wasn’t home yet, but there was plenty left for him.

After that, I retired to my recliner with a steaming cup of White Chocolate Candy Cane coffee by Christopher Bean, and went on adding more of my old pantographs to my webpage.  I have some that came from the lady who used to have the older HQ16; she gave me all her paper pantos when she sold it, because she got a new, computerized machine.  Anyway, some are really pretty, but the print is poor quality, and evidently they are not available anymore (or maybe they never were online).  A few of them that I really liked, I scanned, then popped into PaintShop, enhanced, and reprinted.  Now they look great.  I discovered that a few of those old pantographs are free, and was able to download much better copies.

A fellow quilter, having read my remarks about that African Heat Wave pantograph being a lot harder than it would appear, wrote, “I know what you mean about difficult pantos!  I stepped out of my comfort zone and am quilting a tractor panto.  I’m kinda winging spacing, and had an appointment with Jack last night.”  (She means, ‘Jack the Ripper’, i.e., her seam ripper.)

Shortly after noon on Saturday, a couple of boxes arrived from a quilting lady in Washington State – with three quilts in each one.  I soon had them out of the boxes, measuring and photographing them.  Lots of pretty quilts!

A friend was telling one of the online quilting groups that her peaches are ripe, and she has picked many gallons of them.  A couple of days ago, she met their garbage man at the gate and gave him a bag of fresh-picked peaches.

“You’re a lot nicer than me, Rebecca!” I told her.  “I only gave our garbage man a box chockful o’ Styrofoam peanuts.  Only... it was a surprise.  He didn’t know about it until...”

I told the story:

He didn’t quite get that box tossed clear inside his truck.  So when he pressed the button to make the big scooper/crusher come down, it didn’t clear the box; it came down smack-dab atop it.

The garbage man, meanwhile, had turned back to pick up other boxes I’d left stacked beside the trashcan.

BANG!!!  The box blew apart, and Styrofoam peanuts came surging forth in a small, tempestuous hurricane.

The garbage man, not overly alarmed, turned around to see what had happened, and found himself in a bit of a snowstorm.

Fortunately, we were being blessed with one of our Nebraska ‘breezes’ of about 45 mph that day.  The Styrofoam peanuts were soon in Minnesota.

Loren’s supper that day was deer-burger meatloaf, asparagus, strawberry jello, peaches, Oikos Greek blueberry yogurt, and cranberry juice. 

After I left his house, I went to Hobby Lobby for batting for the quilts I’d just received.

There were exactly six bags of Hobbs Heirloom cotton batting, and nothing else but Fairmont and Mountain Mist, neither of which are TWBB (The World’s Best Batting), though I’ve used both without any apparent trouble, other than it getting all ruffled and thin where it drapes over the front bar, when I was using it for some of my quilts with custom quilting.  That, because the quilt doesn’t get rolled forward very fast, and I stand at the front of the frame, leaning and rubbing against it.  I try to avoid doing that, but...  😏  With Hobbs, I can (gently) tug the batting smooth when I roll the quilt forward, without having to handle it with kid gloves for fear of poking a finger or two through it. 

There were one King-sized batting, two Queens, and three Twins.  I could’ve gotten by with a Full instead of one of those Queens; but I might be glad I have it, if I run short with one of the Twins.  (If you didn’t know what I was talking about, that would be a mighty funny-sounding paragraph.)

It was the perfect day to get batting at Hobby Lobby, because all fabric and batting was 30% off.  I got the whole works for $108.54, which is an excellent price for Hobbs Heirloom cotton batting.  Five are in natural color, and one is white.

I will start on those quilts tomorrow.  Well, that is, Lord willing.  As the Apostle James wrote, “For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that.”  – James 4:15.  How I remember my father quoting that verse to me, if I announced my future plans in too adamant of a tone!  😃

I got all the rest of the pictures from the State Fair posted.  You can see them here:

On my blog:  Photos from the Nebraska State Fair {keep clicking (Older Posts) at the bottom of the page to see all the pictures}

Or on Facebook (a few short videos are here, too):  Photos & Videos from the Fair

Why does Loren somehow manage to unplug his home phone and forget to turn on his cellphone on Sunday mornings?  Larry tried to call him at 8:30 a.m., as he does each Sunday morning, and neither phone was working.  The cellphone was totally flat a couple of days earlier; I plugged it in and told him how to turn it on.  He forgets that one must hold the button down for about three seconds to get it to turn on.  He unplugs the home phone, maybe by accident, and it’s a real job hunting for the cord, because there are a gazillion cords all tangled around it. 

He has always had a penchant for unplugging things, in the name of ‘saving electricity’.  😏 

Hopefully, he would look at the big clock I gave him, notice it said ‘Sunday morning’, and know it would soon be time for church.

He did; he got there in plenty of time.  After the main service, we took him some roast beef with baked potato, carrots, and onions from Victoria’s oven.  She gave us some for our dinner, too.  We stopped at Casey’s General Store and got Loren a little container of grapes, a bottle of apple juice, and a banana walnut muffin to go with his meal.  I tried his phone after church as we drove to Kurt and Victoria’s house – and it worked.  Larry told him he’d tried to call in the morning, and Loren offered no explanation except to say, “Well, I always answer my phone when I know it’s about food!”  haha

So we have no idea if he noticed the phone was unplugged and plugged it back in, or if the outlet strip got switched off and he turned it back on, or what.  Did he really not remember plugging it back in or switching it back on in the last 15 minutes, or did he not want us to know he’d unplugged it?  Could be the latter, since the last time it happened, he said to me, “Those kids are always playing with that thing!” – and I retorted, “You and I are the only kids here, and I didn’t do it.”  

That made him laugh, and he reluctantly admitted that he might have unplugged it.  He always did like to transfer blame; that trait has increased by the power of ten, which is quite common in dementia patients.  I rarely let him get by with it (never did), but I do it with a laugh, and he laughs, too.

His cell phone seemed to be dying (it’s an old flip phone), so Larry brought it home.  If we couldn’t get it to work, he planned to take it to Verizon and either have a new battery put in it, or get Loren a new phone.

The phone was so dead it wouldn’t turn on.  We charged it, and soon were able to turn it on.  It’s kept its charge well all day today.  Maybe Loren’s charger isn’t working right – or, more likely, it isn’t making good connection with the old outlet strip.

After church last night, we visited with friends and family.  Larry doles out little strawberry mints to the littles, and I fight back (the popularity competition, you know) by giving them postcards, or little square pictures cut from the backs of calendars (learned that from my mother, who used to delight my own littles by doing the same). 

Little Keira, 3 ½, came swinging along the wide outer church hall with her Daddy (Andrew), spotted me, and beamed from ear to ear.  I asked her if she’d like a picture, and she nodded in her quick little way.  (She’s the one who weighed 2 lbs. 8 oz. at birth.)  “I have something special tonight,” I told her, and gave her a picture (from days of yore) of our Siberian husky Aleutia’s puppy. 

She was pleased as punch – and promptly scurried off to show her young cousins, who were over by the library. 

I looked up to see a whole tribe of grandkiddos descending on me.  😁  Well, 5 or 6, at least.  It looks like a tribe, when they’re all bearing down on a person at once.

Violet (soon to be 3) boppity-bopped up to me, blond curls a-bounce, looked up with those huge hazel eyes of hers, and said softly in her Australian accent (or maybe it’s Bostonian), “I woid like a pitchoo of a flowler, po-leeze.” 

I told her, “I don’t have any pictures of flowers, but I have something even better!” – and I pulled out a picture of Aleutia when she was a puppy.  I told her all about our doggy, and gave her the picture.  Then I gave her sister Carolyn, who just turned 4, a picture of one of Aleutia’s puppies, and explained about that.  “This is the puppy of that doggy (pointed at Violet’s picture), after she was all grown up!” 

The other grandchildren got similar pictures (and stories).  The children were so happy with those – even Levi, who’s 11.  I held one out to him... he automatically reached out for it – and then quickly drew his hand back and said, “Well... only if there’s enough,” tipping his head toward all the little cousins.  That’s Levi.  ❤

A friend caught a mouse on a sticky trap, and let me know how successful the trap is.  She thinks that because they saw one mouse and have now caught one mouse, all their troubles are over.

I replied, “One down, 2,302,072 more to go.”  🤣

We got sticky traps for Hannah and Dorcas’ room once upon a time, back when we lived in town.  A mouse got caught.  Dorcas nearly stepped on it, and shrieked bloody murder.  Another mouse got caught – and gnawed his own leg off in order to escape.  😬😳😲😨😩  We shuddered so violently, all in unison, that we created a small earthquake in Platte County.

I pitched out the sticky traps and went back to the snappy traps.  Let it be quick.

My friend then wrote, “Cooking oil will set him free unharmed.”

I responded, “He’ll be back inside before you get the cooking oil put back in the cupboard.”

Then, “... but I do admire your humanity.”  😅

Last night after church, I asked Larry to 1) put a new string in my piano, and 2) rehang the Vintage Sewing Machine quilt.

This, because a couple of days ago, I broke a string on my piano, a high C (7^th C from the bottom).  I thought I had replacement strings, but when Larry set out to restring that note last night after church, there were no strings to be found.  Eventually it occurred to me that they hadn’t been mine in the first place; they were my friend Penny’s, and I would’ve doubtless given them back to her after the last time I used them, a good long while ago.

But he took out the broken string and put the song rack back on the piano, so at least I can play it without crashing into the broken string every time I hit that key.

Then, instead of rehanging the quilt, he decided to install the new bathroom faucet, even though it was getting close to midnight.  These jobs are always fast and easy, right?

Problem:  the faucet didn’t fit the old holes, and Larry couldn’t make it fit without supplies from Menards.

Menards, stupidly, does not stay open 24 hours a day for industrious people who need to install new faucets in the (very) early a.m. hours.

So now the sink is unusable, the 7^th C note is missing two of its three strings, and the Vintage Sewing Machine quilt is not hanging.

Early this afternoon, I was glad to hear from my customer in Phoenix that her quilts had arrived safe and sound.  “I just worry so much when they are traveling,” she said.  “It’s the worst part of the whole thing for me.”

“I agree,” I replied.  “Quilts in the air (literally) leave me up in the air (figuratively)!  So glad they got there safely.  😊”

I paused in my rush past the front window a little later – there was a monarch butterfly flitting about the flowers in the front yard!  They’re so beautiful; I’m sorry there are so many fewer of them than there used to be.  We keep growing milkweed for them...

A few more pictures from the State Fair:

Hannah called on her way home from her nose/ear/throat doctor in Lincoln.  She was just traveling through Valparaiso, so we periodically lost contact as she drove over hill and dale.  It’s always a bit disconcerting to be waxing eloquent about something – and then to discover one is talking to thin air.  It’s almost as bad as when one types a page of delightful prose – and then the computer, hungry thing that it is, eats it, just swallers it down whole.  One always feels as though one can never repeat one’s self quite as articulately as one did in the first go-around.  (That hasn’t happened to me for years.  Computers are not as hungry as they once were.)

The doctor has been surprised that Hannah has done so well since the first two sinus polyp surgeries.  Often, polyps come back again almost as they were in the beginning; and, as they told her at her first surgery, hers was the worst case of sinus disease they’d ever seen.  It’s not polyps causing her headaches; that’s the good news.  However, she has tonsil stones, and needs to have the tonsils removed – but because of the upsurge of Covid-19 variants and hospitalizations, they are postponing all ‘elective’ surgeries across the state that require hospitalizations.  The doctor even has an open slate and could do the surgery right away.  But they want Hannah to stay in the hospital overnight, so ... it’s postponed.  They should not allow Covid-19 to disrupt things like this that are truly necessary for people’s health and well-being.  😣

I took Loren some food:  deer burger meatloaf, peas, Chobani blueberry Greek yogurt, strawberry jello with diced peaches, V8 cocktail juice, and some dill pickles.

Then I headed to Penny’s house to see if we could find the piano strings.  Being early to Loren’s house put me right into the town’s end-of-school-day rush hour.  I’d forgotten what it was like, since it hasn’t been occurring around here for a while, and I rarely drive on into town at that time.

I was at a stoplight behind a Nissan Altima.  Their brake lights have a cover that makes the light look like a dahlia, sort of like this one:   

I wasn’t the only one who thought it looked like a flower, either.  A big monarch butterfly came swooping out of a nearby tree, flew right to that light, and then fluttered in spirals around it, wondering, How do I get to this flower, anyway?!

We couldn’t find the piano strings.  I’ll order some online.

Larry got the thangamarolphgidget that he needed at Menards and put the new faucet in the bathroom sink.  One job down, three gazillion, five hundred billion, forty-four million to go.

I’m in the same boat, it seems.  A lady just emailed to tell me she has eight quilts to send me.  Eight!  I cannot say no; she’s a new customer, a sister of another customer – the lady who lost her son two weeks ago – and I agreed to do her quilts months ago.

I need me a computer-driven quilting machine!!!

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