Photos: Drive to Omaha

 I drove to Omaha to visit Loren today. My oldest daughter Hannah went with me today, and we took Loren a pile of Christmas cards and photo from friends and family, and then went through them with him. He loves pictures.

Journal: Ye Shall Find the Babe Wrapped in Swaddling Clothes, Lying in a Manger

 

Last Tuesday, I wrapped one last present, then filled the bird feeders.  Soon there were downy woodpeckers, house finches, goldfinches, and English sparrows all around them.  Every now and then, the blue jays swooped in, and the smaller birds scattered.  I then went back to working on Trevor’s Nine Puppies quilt the rest of the day.

That evening, Dorcas texted to let us know the Christmas box from us had arrived.  She posted some pictures and videos of the children with their gifts.

Trevor helped Brooklyn get her box open – and then she squealed with delight when she found several sets of green packing bubbles.

There was one picture wherein Trevor was sitting in the big box that had held all the smaller boxes, and Brooklyn was in the box that had held her quilt and pillow.

Really, all we ever need to give kids are boxes and packing bubbles, and maybe a roll of scotch tape, and kids are totally happy!

Trevor was pleased with his pajamas, as he particularly likes the Polar Express (I didn’t even know what the Polar Express was).  He asked Dorcas, “Mommy, how did she know my size so the jamas fit just right?”

When he pulled out the little box containing the flashlight, he exclaimed, “Oh, look!  It’s one of those indestructible flashlights!” 

It’s usually ill-starred, thinking that about, oh, most anything.  😬😅  Do you suppose it’ll still be intact by the time I send him the extra batteries that I forgot to put in the box?

After supper, Larry went to Genoa to work on a pickup, and I went back upstairs to continue working on the Nine Puppies quilt.  As I’ve mentioned before, I’m paper-piecing these blocks.  I could get the quilt done faster if I didn’t have to remove all the paper.  

“Reckon Trevor would mind if the quilt went ‘crackle crackle crackle’ every time he wiggled?” I asked Dorcas.  Then, “Kidding, kidding!” I added.

“😂  He might think it’s a space blanket!” she answered.

In the background of one of Dorcas’ videos, Todd can be heard teasing Brooklyn, “Is that Daddy’s blanket?”  She immediately plopped right down on the quilt, tummy first, and spread her arms out on it.

I guess that was answer enough!  😄

I was almost done with the first Log Cabin block when I paused to consider why it seemed lopsided, and then to wonder why there were three strips of off-white on two sides, but there were going to be four strips of off-white on the other two sides.  I finally realized that I had skipped one of the blue shades, several strips back.  🙄 

Fortunately, it doesn’t (usually) take as long to rip and redo as one imagines it will.

When I quit at midnight, three 10 ½” Log Cabin blocks were done.  There were just 37 more to go!  I posted a picture on Facebook with the aforesaid description.

“No hay más explicaciones,” someone soon wrote.

Translation:  ‘There are no further explanations.’

Eh?  Hmmm.  I considered... and then wrote, “Thank you very much!”  >>...snerk...<<

Wednesday, I went on sewing Log Cabin blocks.  As I walked past the east window in my sewing room, I caught a glimpse of movement in one of the nearby pine trees.  I stopped and watched for a moment – and spotted a squirrel leaping nimbly from branch to branch.  Then another movement caught my eye – and whataya know, there was a female Hairy woodpecker working her way along a branch, pounding away with her strong bill.  

(Picture from All About Birds.)

Little Downy woodpeckers often feed at the suet feeder, but the similar-but-bigger Hairies rarely come to the back deck.  Every once in a while, a Red-bellied woodpecker shows up.  

The Red-headed woodpeckers are timid, and I’ve never seen one at the feeders.  Northern flickers often feed on the ground beneath the feeders, one story down. 

Victoria once came dashing in the house, all out of breath, to excitedly inform me that she had been watching an entire family of Red-headeds – two adults (they look the same), and three babies.  The babies must’ve just fledged, because they couldn’t fly very well yet.  The parents were industriously working to feed them.  I hurried out to see, but they were gone.  We stood still and listened – and heard the babies on the wooded hillside nearby squawking and screeching for food, but I never got so much as a glimpse of them.  Did you know that baby Red-headeds don’t develop red on their heads until their first fall or winter, and may not have their full adult plumage until they are over a year old?  

(Photo from Birds & Blooms)

Shortly before church that evening, Victoria sent pictures of a gingerbread house she, Carolyn, Violet, and her friend-come-sister-in-law Robin had made.

“Carolyn specifically wanted me to send you pictures of the gingerbread house we made with Robin!” wrote Victoria.  “It’s all homemade, so it’s not hard and crunchy like the kits you can buy from the store.”

Then she added, “Willie had a terrible time watching all that candy go on the house, and not getting to sample much.  😂”

We picked up a few groceries at Wal-Mart after church, then had a late supper – soup, cottage cheese, Oui yogurt, and a truffle apiece.

I always have big hopes of coming home and getting back to the quilting studio, but most often I’m too sleepy, and just head for my recliner for a little while before going to bed.  My coffee cup was upstairs on the mug warmer, and I was almost too tired to trot up there and retrieve it.  Almost.

Thursday, December 21^st, was the winter solstice, when there were just 9 hours and 12 minutes of daylight.  From now on, days will start getting longer.  The rate at which daylight increases after the winter solstice on December 21 varies depending on your latitude.  The higher the latitude, the more pronounced the change in day length.

Here in middle eastern Nebraska, daylight will start increasing by a mere 30 seconds a day, gradually accelerating as spring approaches.  After February, the days increase by about two minutes in length through April, when the speed accelerates even more.  By June 1, the days are about 14 hours and 20 minutes long.  The summer solstice is June 22^nd, when the maximum length of daylight is almost 14 ½ hours – that’s 5 hours and 58 minutes more daylight than at the winter solstice.

Amy sent this picture of their kitty and one of their chickens, lying all cozily snuggled together in the sun.

“Is the chicken having an identity crisis?” I asked.  😄

I spent the day working on Trevor’s quilt, listening to Bible Audio as I sewed.  Later that night, I turned on a hoarding-cleanup video on YouTube.  There was enough audio explanation, and the room cleanups took long enough, that I could put together blocks without looking at the video very often, and still know what was going on.  The trouble with hoarding videos, though, is that they make me feel like I need to clean something. 

There are a few trouble spots downstairs, thanks to Larry.  I had that basement spic-and-span, not long ago!  He spots clean areas, and immediately puts stuff there – you know, like a compound bow, or several pairs of insulated boots, or a golf caddy, or a vibrating recliner, or a Dodge Ram hood.  I accuse him of running at those clean areas headlong, arms full of jetsam and flotsam.

Sometimes, I have to turn off hoarding or cleaning videos and replace them with BBC or National Geographic wild animal documentaries or travelogs, in order to keep on sewing and avoid heading off somewhere to launch a cleaning spree.  😂 

I finished block #9 and quit for the night.  Each block takes an hour, if I don’t pause for a moment, and if I don’t have to cut more fabric.

Friday morning, I refilled the bird feeders, and by the time I went back in, made coffee, and then peeked back out the window, English sparrows and house finches were already flocking around them.

The previous day, Larry had brought home some apricot kolaches.  He got them cheap at a convenience store somewhere because they were a day old.  They weren’t worth whatever he paid for them.  Hard... dried out... bland...

So I made bread pudding with the last three left in the package.  Mmmmm, mmm.  That was just about the best bread pudding I ever made.

Larry worked late in Genoa that night putting primer on one of his pickups.  It’s almost ready to be painted.

He bought the BMW X5 SUV back from Nathanael that day.  Nathanael had been trying to sell it, as he has a Ford pickup now.  Larry is pleased to have the Beemer back again; it’s a good little vehicle.  It took a bit of fixing, as it used to go into limp mode, and then, adding to the confusion, the starter went bad.  But it’s working nicely now.

By bedtime, 14 Log Cabin blocks were complete.  26 more to go.

Saturday, we went to visit Loren.  It rained and misted most of the day.  

Larry came with me, for the first time since last April.  Here he is adjusting his hearing aids before backing out of the driveway.

We stopped at a big Hobby Lobby on the northwest side of Omaha, and I got several packages of heavy black acid-free photo paper and several hundred gold photo corners.  I will use these to remake the very old wooden-cover photo album my mother put together in the early to mid-40s.  The old black pages are made of something similar to construction paper, and are turning to dust.  It has a handful of pictures of Loren when he was a baby, a toddler, and a small boy.  I’ll add to it, and show it to him when I finish it, but I won’t leave it at the home, as it would surely get lost or damaged.

When we arrived at Prairie Meadows, Loren was still in the dining room, one of the last to leave.  A few others had fallen asleep at their tables.  Loren had finished his meal, and, judging from the contents of a plate in front of another man who had not eaten his meal, it was a tasty one, with chunks of roast beef, potatoes, rice, and vegetables, with brown gravy; but Loren didn’t seem to know what he needed to do next. 

He was pleased to see Larry again.  “You got loose!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah,” laughed Larry, “I had the afternoon off, and thought I’d come with Sarah Lynn to see you!”

Loren offered Larry his empty plate, pointing out a couple of kernels of rice.  “You could lick those off the plate,” he said with a sidewise grin, so much like he used to do in years gone by.

I kept coaxing him to get up and come with us to his room, telling him they needed to clean the dining room (and indeed they were starting to do just that).  He had plate and fork in hand, and thought he needed to go wash them somewhere.  I wonder if he has done that?  They do set some of the residents to work on this and that, if those residents act like they would like to and if they are able.  Then he thought that the gift bag I had in my hand was for the young black man who was cleaning off tables, and he started trying to get his attention.

“The present is for you!” I told Loren.

It still took some talking to get him to abandon table, fork, and plate – and Larry didn’t help matters any by preparing to seat himself at the table beside Loren.

“No, we need to go!” I said, tugging at Larry’s arm.  “They want to clean this room.”

Larry, half-seated, stood back up. 

Loren, halfway up, sat back down.  “You can sit there, Larry,” he said, patting the chair beside him, probably feeling sympathetic that Larry has such a shrew for a wife.

“We’re going to your room so you can look at your present!” I told Loren, dangling the red-and-black buffalo-check gift bag in front of him like a carrot.

I turned and started walking toward the door.  This usually brings Loren on double.  Not when Larry is stalled out next to him, though.

I have had better luck herding cats.

“Come on!” I hissed at Larry.

He came. 

Loren came, too, having some difficulty standing up and walking.

Eventually we made it to Loren’s room, me in the lead, greeting people as I went, Loren and Larry coming along behind me, slowly, and with Larry telling Loren about various jobs he’s done for Walkers lately.

Once in his room, I gave Loren his watch.  He was pleased with it, and it seems to fit perfectly, or at least he says it does.  It’s hard to slide the band over his hand, and it looks a bit snug to me; but he says it’s perfect.

Larry showed Loren pictures of the truck he drives for Walkers, and talked about the work he’s done throughout the year, trying hard to keep all the boom trucks operable.  He told about the frame on an older truck that should’ve been half an inch thick; but when something broke and he started to repair it, he discovered that the metal was only 3/8” thick.  “The men who did it knew better,” he told Loren.

It wasn’t long before Loren thought this was his story, and started telling of hiring someone to work for him.  He chose the friendly young black man with the corkscrews all over his head who popped into the room.  Seeing that Loren had visitors, he started backing out the door.  Then, realizing we were friendly, he came back in to chat with us for a few minutes. 

“I made sure to hire someone who would use the right thickness of metal!” said Loren in continuation of his story.  “That’s a good young man,” he added, gesturing toward the man as he smiled and headed out the door.  “Hardworking!  He makes sure the metal is half an inch thick.”

He happened to have a Reminisce magazine open to a page about a man who had found an antique gun half buried on his farm place.  Pointing to the picture, he said, “You have to have the right thickness of metal to make a gun like that!  But it’s hard to find people who are willing to do their job the way they’re supposed to, these days.”

Larry made a couple of attempts to reclaim the dialog, but, finding his story well and properly hijacked, he gave up and went along with the New and Improved Version.

Prairie Meadows front lobby

To this day, Loren will stop and catch himself if he ever starts to say anything to me that even hints at him forgetting anything – and yet he now and then admitted to his sister-in-law in days gone by that he knew he was having trouble with his memory.  I suppose it was because he figured I was the one who’d be throwing him into an ‘insane asylum’, as he called it, and not her?

However, I found notes in his Bible where he’d written how thankful he was for me – ‘my sister who loves me and cares for my life, and would do anything she could for me.’  That made me cry, when I read that.

About the time we were ready to bid Loren adieu, and I noticed a piece of protective plastic cling on the face of his new watch.  I reached over and removed it, to Loren’s great astonishment.  I think he thought I had just plucked the crystal right off the face of that watch!  😅

By this time, he seemed to have forgotten that we had just brought the watch and given it to him.  He began explaining that he’d gotten a new – he forgot the word ‘band’, so pointed to it instead. 

“That’s a new band, on a new watch,” Larry agreed.  “It’s your Christmas present from us!”

Loren was amazed.  He thanked us all over again.

I asked if he wanted to wear the old one – I pointed it out, over on his dresser – or the new one – I pointed to his wrist. 

He grinned.  “Oh, I think I want to wear the new one!”

Scarcely two minutes later, I could tell he had again forgotten that we had given it to him.

Here’s the hifalutin restaurant where we ate supper.  Just look at all those shiny Christmas ornaments affixed to the ceiling!

It was a Subway in Fremont.  There was one other couple in there when we arrived.  They soon left, and we had the entire place to ourselves the rest of the time.

As we drove home, I asked Larry several times, “Are you getting sleepy?”

He will hardly ever admit he is.  “No, not at all!” he insisted. 

“Then why are you wandering about like a sheepherder?” I asked in my polite, tactful way.

He went through his usual litany about how it was because of a ‘slight curve in the road’ or ‘a bit of a rise’ or ‘the wind’, or he’d ‘glanced left’ (or right).

My final complaint occurred shortly after we turned off of Highway 81 onto Highway 22.  “You’re swerving again!”

Larry opened his mouth to voice protest, when suddenly the Mercedes beeped loudly and the message, “Attention Assist:  Take a break!  Drowsiness detected!”, along with an icon of a cup of coffee, appeared on the dash.

“Haha!” I laughed.  “Now you can argue with Driver’s Assist, too!!

Annnnd...  he did.  😂

Upon arriving home, I remarked, “I need to remember to take my Christmas cards to church tomorrow morning so we can pass them out after church.”  Then I added, “I have no idea where that box of cards is.”

“Maybe you wrapped it up for someone by accident,” suggested Larry.

Boy, wouldn’t they be surprised to open a box like that!  I’d act all nonchalant and say offhandedly, “Oh, I thought you could pass those out for me this year.” 

I found the box right where I’d put it:  on the banister at the top of the stairs, so I’d remember to bring it downstairs.  🙄

I brought the rest of the presents upstairs, too.  Reckon those will all fit into the Mercedes?  Our family get-together is next Friday evening.

It was raining Sunday morning when I got up, and kept at it for a while.

A retired pastor friend from Mississippi, Laurence Justice, preached for both the morning and the evening services.  He’s 80 years old, still sings beautifully, and has a strong voice.  We enjoy his sermons.

Brother Justice himself took this picture of Malinda in front of the Christmas tree in the front vestibule of our church.

We put our Christmas cards into their respective paper bags in the Fellowship Hall after church.  People set up paper grocery bags and write names on them, one for each family.  They’re in alphabetical order, so if you keep your cards in alphabetical order, it’s a breeze to sort them out.

Our Christmas Program started at 6:00 p.m.  17 of the children in the program were our grandchildren.  A whole lot more were great-nieces, great-nephews, great-great-nieces, great-great-nephews, and oodles of cousins once, twice, and thrice removed.

Upon arriving at the church, I spotted Andrew, Hester, Keira, and Oliver in the hallway.  I told Keira, who would be singing in the program, “As soon as you get up on the stage, I’ll stand on my pew and wave both arms so you’ll be sure to see me.”

She looked up at me quickly.  “What?!” said she. 

Hester, just like her sisters do, quickly supplied the words that were doubtless winging about inside her child’s head.  “Did Grandma just say what I think she said?!”  hee hee

The service started with a medley by the brass instruments.  Then the congregation sang, and after that Brother Justice preached.  There were a few instrumentals afterwards, while the children filed into the choir loft.  They don’t all fit up there; so the youngest ones sit in pews at the front of the sanctuary and march up onto the platform when it’s their turn to sing either with the entire choir or as a smaller group.

Halfway through the program, it was time for the Primary Class to sing.  They went up the steps... got into their proper places... Keira looked out at the congregation – and saw me.  She grinned.

So I didn’t have to stand on the pew and wave both arms after all.

Here is the Primary Class (standing in front of the choir), composed of ages 4-6:

My father would be so astonished to see all these children.  When he started the church in the mid-50s, there were only 26 souls.  Now there are over 450, and a good many of them are his offspring.

When we got home, we had a light supper of Campbell’s soup with FlipSides crackers, Oui yogurt, grape juice, and Reese’s ice cream for dessert.  Then I ensconced myself in my recliner with the giant pile of cards we had received at church, and began going through them.  I have a stack of pictures from friends and relatives that measures almost two inches high.  That’s one of my favorite things to get at Christmastime:  pictures.

Weather advisories for the last couple of days had said that the rain was going to change first to ice and then to snow, and we were in that particular part of the state for which a blizzard warning had been issued.  The snow was expected to start around midnight Sunday night, and might continue until noon on Tuesday, so they said.

Accordingly, we awoke to a wintery landscape this morning.  It was pretty, but cold and very windy, with snow coming down hard.  Yep, the ‘blizzard’ was upon us, if that’s what they call a ‘blizzard’.  We’ve seen it a whole lot worse.  By 10:30 a.m., the wind was blowing at a breezy 25 mph, but expected to pick up to 60 mph later.  The temperature was 24°, with a windchill of -7°.  That’s 7 below 0. 

But I was sipping excellent Holiday Maple Crunch coffee from Christopher Bean and drying my hair, getting ready to go to our Christmas dinner at church.  The blow-dryer always makes me piping hot, so I opened the window a couple of inches – and a squirrel tried squeeeezing his way in!

Caleb sent a picture of Eva having ‘Christmas breakfast’ -- bacon, scrambled eggs, and a cinnamon roll with cream cheese frosting on it.

I wrote back, “Now, there’s a bright little Christmas face!  Plus, mmmmm, bacon.  Tell Eva Grandma is having breakfast, too:  Holiday Maple Crunch coffee in the pretty cup you all gave me.”

At a quarter ’til 12, off we went to church for our Christmas dinner.  Late, by my yardstick; but... Larry.  😏

On the way out to the Mercedes, the wind blew my wig upside down.  I smoothed it down, and nobody at church seemed to be staring; so either I got it back right-side-up, or it’s upside down all the time, and thus warranted no second looks.

(Aside to the crowd:  No, I do not wear a wig.)

There’s a grand piano in the Fellowship Hall, and our pianist played it while three or four young men played various brass instruments, and we sang some Christmas songs before we ate dinner.  That’s the first time we’ve ever sung together there in the Fellowship Hall.  It has totally different acoustics than in the sanctuary, what with the lower ceiling and such; but it was all good, with 450+ people singing heartily.

We sat by Jeremy and Lydia and family, with a great-niece and her three young boys across the table from us.  

And now... the washing machine has quit.  Furthermore, it quit with Larry’s wet work clothes inside it, and it’s locked, and won’t open.  I do not know at what point in the cycle it quit, but I suspect it was early on.  There is electricity to the outlet, but the machine will not power on.  We unplugged it for several minutes... plugged it back in... nothing.

Larry headed off to Walkers’ to work on a pickup with a snowplow on it, and he took the hamper with the rest of his work clothes to wash them at the shop.  Fine and dandy, but what about the clothes in the washer, and what about the hamper in the bathroom full of white things and my things?!

We have 8” of snow, and it appears to have stopped snowing as of this evening, though we might still get another coating of ice and perhaps an inch of snow.  This photo from 1011 News was taken 50 miles to our south:

So... the washer has quit, but we had a lovely Christmas dinner together with friends and family, and everyone is home again safe and sound.  Therefore, I shall postpone my tantrum over the washing machine.

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