Journal: Biblical Blocks, & A Trip to Omaha

 

Now and then, a picture on my screensaver reminds me of my kitties, and I miss them (though a couple of weeks ago when two of the neighborhood cats got themselves stranded in our garage for an entire day and destroyed the general ambiance of the place, I remembered why I don’t plan to replace my pets).

In the latter years of Tabby’s life, we had to give him soft canned cat food because he had gum disease and had lost some teeth.  Teensy would lie patiently (or otherwise) right beside Tabby as he ate, looong legs stretched out in front of him and crossed suavely, trying to look nonchalant and nonthreatening, because he knew I would give him a little of what Tabby left behind.  Plus, he wanted a foot ready, in case a small piece of food fell off the saucer, so he could snag it quick.  Notice that Tabby is keeping a close watch on Teensy, and eating on the side closest to those long paws, the better to prevent an SFT (Soft Food Theft).

After posting pictures of the Flowering Pear trees last week, a friend from farther south asked if they were Bradfords, and told me that those trees are considered invasive in her state. 

Sometimes what’s invasive down south is not the same farther north.  I looked it up, and learned that many Nebraska nurseries, too, are no longer selling Bradford Pear, as it is considered invasive, even though we have seen no real problem with it here in Nebraska.  The trees in this picture are more likely Cleveland Pears, which are not invasive here.

I sent Dorcas a picture of the wedding party from last week, with a good many of her cousins in it.  “They don’t seem old enough to get married!” she said, and then added, “The babies that I watched for about four years at the daycare are graduating this year.”

“I know,” I agreed.  “The children in our pre-K and Kindergarten this year are fresh-hatched, newborn babes.  And our oldest grandson has now turned 22.  This is not sensible, since Daddy and I are only 23 ½.”  😂

Tuesday afternoon, I went to my favorite little LQS in town, Sew What, owned by my friend Jo from high school, and got the backing for the Biblical Blocks quilt.  My daughter-in-law Amy found the partially-done quilt and the pieces that went with it when she and other members of the family were helping her grandparents clean their house, which had gotten out of hand, especially after a water leak.  The fabric smelled mildewy, and Amy considered throwing it out; but then, seeing that it was Moda, an expensive quilting cotton, she decided to carefully wash it.  It came out beautifully.  

Fortunately, it started with good fabric that scarcely raveled, and next, Amy washed it gently.  I once wound up with nothing but confetti, washing fabric before it was quilted; but it was unusable unwashed, so... into the trash went the mess, with the only regret being the waste of good detergent.  I’m glad there were better results this time.

Amy asked me if I would finish it, and I said I would be glad to.

The elderly couple, who have been friends of ours ever since I can remember, are not well, and I feel an urgency to complete this quilt.  

After their house was clean, Elaine began asking if anyone had seen her ‘lighthouse quilt’.  No one had seen a lighthouse quilt.  BUT!!! – a couple of weeks ago when I pulled out all the pieces from the tote they were in, lo and behold, I discovered that the outer border, already cut, was a lighthouse print!  We think this must be the quilt Elaine was worrying about.  If it is, she started it in the early 80s, she said. 

She does not know I am finishing it.  We did not want her to be troubled all over again, wondering if it would be finished properly... or if it’s actually the quilt she was worried about... or if she’d get it back soon.  Amy will surprise her with it as soon as I get it done.

I don’t always prewash fabric for my quilts, but as the backing was a dark red color, and as the quilt top fabrics had been washed, I knew I needed to.  Ugh, I wanted to quilt now!

So I washed it on Quick Wash, and dried it on Quick Dry – and whataya know, I was ready to load that backing in just thirty minutes.  Not bad.

I outlined the lighthouses and the ‘ropes’ on the top border and did Swirly Twirly Feathers in the red border.  

If I felt like I had time, I’d give it a lot of details.  But I must hurry.  Also, if Elaine does actually use the quilt (as opposed to merely displaying it), I want the back to feel soft; so I mustn’t lay down layer upon layer of thread.  (I no sooner said that, than I got to an inner border with too much fullness, and had to put down a lot of thread, in order to make it lie smoothly.)

Block called 'Heavenly Problems'

'Cross & Crown'

By the time I quit quilting Tuesday night, one more top border row was done.  This was one of the few times I have been able to use my longest swag for border scallops.  It fit in that wide border just right.

And… again and again and again… people prove they just don’t read (yep, on the big Facebook Quilting group again).  I posted the above paragraph about Amy washing the quilt pieces, saying they came out beautifully. 

One of the first comments under the pictures:  “Try the antique quilt restoration soap to wash it in.” 

It was in the very same sentence, wherein I spoke of the fabric smelling mildewy, and Amy washing it.  That lady must’ve stopped reading, mid-sentence.  What, did she think I am quilting it, mildew and all?!  I would not be able to work on it if it smelled mildewy.

The male American goldfinches have their beautiful summer feathers on.  They look like bright little yellow jasper gems, don’t you think?

My mother always called them ‘wild canaries’.

I hear field sparrows around here occasionally, but hardly ever see them.  But right this minute as I type, there are white-crowned sparrows in the front yard, whistling up a concert.

Wednesday, I quilted until time for church, and again after we got home.  When I quit, I was almost done with the first row of blocks on the quilt.  When it feels like a monumental task to roll the quilt forward or change thread color, it’s time to hit the hay.

The names of these three quilt blocks are ‘Children of Israel’, ‘Garden of Eden’, and ‘David & Goliath’.

I got up earlier than usual Thursday morning, because I couldn’t sleep after about 7:15 a.m., even though I went to bed at 3:45 a.m.  I don’t like to stay in bed, miserably tossing and turning, for more than about 45 minutes.  There are better things to do!

So, after a hot shower under the hardest-pulsating setting there is, I brewed Butter Pecan coffee from Amana, filled the bird feeders (though they are more like squirrel feeders by day and raccoon feeders by night), and then got on with the quilting.

Here’s an inquisitive little male house finch.  If the feeders get empty, house finches and goldfinches alike sit on the railing and make their little upswinging chirps, looking at the windows and the patio door.  I’m pretty sure they’re begging me to come fill the feeders.

This quilt block is called ‘Joseph’s Coat’.

That afternoon, I was having a little chat with the lady from whom we purchased the 730 Bernina three years ago.  And I was remarking on how much easier it is to do such things as embroidering quilt labels on this machine, compared to my older machine, the 180.

I once tried hooking up my 180 to my computer (had to buy one o’ them thar old-fashioned hook-’m-up cords) (scientific terminology) – and then, simultaneously, the machine beeped and announced, “Hey, there’s a big ol’ honkin’ computer hooked to me!” and the computer played Taps (or maybe the Funeral Dirge in G Minor) and gave notice, “Aaaccckkk, there’s a USO (Unidentified Sewing Object) connected to me!”

The computer was kind enough to show me all the files on the sewing machine, while the sewing machine condescended to displaying the embroidery motifs on the CD in the computer’s disc reader (cute little fancily-embroidered buttonholes, they were).

But no matter how I went at trying to actually make the machine stitch (I had downloaded the free Bernina software, and even talked to a Bernina tech at a nearby Bernina store), the little spool icon went on turning, turning, turning, and eventually a notification popped up that said, “All systems have encountered a fatal error, and the rocket will fall to earth and blow up in 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... --------” at which point I ran screaming from the room and threw the main house breaker.  (Stories are subject to a) artistic license and b) memory loss by the author.)

I arrived at the central problem areas of the Biblical Blocks quilt.  Starch... press... starch... press... repeat...  The lady had troubles with this block, which is called ‘Robbing Peter to Pay Paul’.  Here are Before & After shots:

That’s not a Bible story, in case you’re wondering.  Some claim it refers to church taxes paid to Westminster Abbey (originally called Collegiate Church of Saint Peter at Westminster) that were sent to repair St. Paul’s Cathedral in the mid-1500s, though records exist of the phrase since about 1450 AD (which probably means nothing more than that those same church taxes were being used in a similar unscrupulous way, 100 years earlier).

I doused it with starch (the quilt, not the Cathedral), pressed it, and quilted it.  The final result is not quite as ripply as it appears in the picture; I was taking the shot from a low angle without overhead lighting.  I could smush it further into subjection with a little more quilting; but I don’t want this quilt that heavily quilted.  I call it ‘good enough’.  😏

This is the blue border that had problems.  I had to quilt it fairly heavily, as it had way too much fullness in it.  And the worst is yet to come – the part below the center block.  Anyway, I’ve managed to avoid any tucks, so far.

In looking at these pictures, I see there is a line of stitching missing in the green triangles.  That part is already rolled into the take-up bar; I’ll have to add the stitching after the quilt is done, before I cut it from the frame.

Don’t tell anybody, but once I put those swirly heart things over the arcs, I suddenly saw snails going along, one after the other, with their happy little heads and antennae turned toward me.  😵‍💫  I cannot now unsee this image.

Several more pictures of Tabby scrolled past on my screensaver, and I recalled how that kitty thought planters with rainwater in them were his personal watering system. The dirtier, the better, it seemed.

Something fell off the banister and tumbled down the steps the other day, and I suddenly remembered Tabby galloping headlong down those steps, ears laid back, tail in a puff, pretending a werewolf was after him (or sometimes he was just trying to coax Socks into a game).

Here he is, trying to stir up trouble with Socks right there at the top of those same stairs.

Friday, I filled the bird feeders (yeah, they were already empty, thanks to the raccoons) and watered the houseplants.  Hester said she would take them (the houseplants, not the raccoons); I need to get them to her; I’m tired of houseplants.  Next, I washed all the bedding, including Larry’s wool and corduroy Log Cabin quilt that he likes to use in his recliner. 

For supper, I made venison meatloaf (adding the last of Thursday’s broccoli) and baked potatoes.

A quilting lady asked me, “Do you starch and wait till it is dry to press or do you damp press?”

“I jump the gun and press while it’s still soaking wet and create starch snowflakes all over the place,” I told her truthfully.  “And people accuse me of being ‘patient’!  Tsk.”

Late that night, I passed the midpoint of the Biblical Blocks quilt.  The batting was a good 8” off the floor! – always a sign of progress.  This block is called ‘Job’s Tears’.

The entire middle has too much fullness in it, and does not lie flat.  There are even a few little individual patches that are too full.  How did that happen, I wonder?  I’m guessing it was cut with scissors rather than a rotary cutter, for starters; and things went south from there.  Starch and pressing with a hot iron is helping, and the Quilters’ Dream wool is helping, too; but nothing is going to totally eliminate the trouble.  I could quilt it more heavily, but I don’t want to.  I’ll just keep doing the best I can.

“It will all come out in the wash,” one of my quilting friends reassured me.

And wash it I will!  Some of those starched areas are downright crunchy.  I washed out the nozzle on the spray bottle, and when I put it back on, instead of ‘mist’, I somehow got it set on ‘fire hydrant flush’.  😂

The first block here is called ‘Golgotha’, and the next ones are ‘Tree of Life’.  

Saturday I got up and began preparing to go visit Loren.  I took a shower – and then, before I could get my hair blow-dried and curled, and before I got a fresh pot of coffee made, the electricity went off.

Well, partly off.  It flickered, came on, went off – but a few lights here and there glowed dimly.  Of the six lights alongside the bathroom mirror, one was glowing at about half-wattage; the others were off.  My curling iron lights were blinking, dimly.

I called Cornhusker Public Power and reported the matter.  As usual, the lady asked if I had checked the breaker. 

“No,” I answered, “I’ll go do that right now – but it’s not the breaker, or it wouldn’t have flickered, and a few lights here and there wouldn’t be glowing.”

I got to the breaker box, checked, and verified, “Nope, the breakers are not blown.  A couple of the basement lights are glowing, too.”

She checked her records, and told me, “Nobody else in your area has reported an outage.  I will send someone there right away.”

I thanked her – and called Larry.  He was just about to get off work, and got here in twenty minutes.  He took a look at the outside meter.  Numbers were flying around on it; it was behaving quite strangely.  He fired up the generator, and soon I had coffee brewing and was curling my hair.  These are the two elements of civilized life.

Soon I was on my way to Prairie Meadows to see Loren.  This is the view as I head down our lane.  

It was a pretty day, but the wind was blowing at a steady 30-35 mph, with gusts past 40 mph.  

The flowering pear trees in Bennington were losing their petals, but the redbuds were in full bloom.

At Prairie Meadows, I found Loren by the front desk telling one of the nurses something, while she tried to placate him.  I couldn’t tell what they were talking about, as I was too far away.  But she looked up, saw me, and, acting totally relieved, pointed at me and told Loren, “Look who’s here!”

He looked, grinned, and exclaimed, “Lur-------”  He was starting to say ‘Lura Kay.’  And then he couldn’t quite think of my name.

“I brought you some newspapers!” I said, showing them to him.  “Shall we go to your room?”

“Sure!” he said happily, heading off toward it.  His room is not very far from the nurses’ station.  He gestured down the hallway.  “I got my cabin loose!”

I looked at him, imagining a cruiser chugging away from the dock, having cast off the lines and pulled in the fenders.  My eyebrows surely rose, because he quickly tried explaining himself. 

“The door is open,” he finally said, after a few false starts. 

If it had been open, it wasn’t anymore.

“It looks shut now,” I observed.

He grasped the handle and twisted it.

Nothing happened.

“I can do it,” I said, pressing in the numbers and opening the door.

“How’d you do that?!” he exclaimed, amazed.  “Three zeroes and a nine?” he asked.

“Something like that,” I agreed. 

He’s probably not supposed to know the number.  He’d likely forget it anyway – but maybe not.  No telling what he might carefully save in some quadrant of his brain for future use.  Surprising when that happens – but it does happen, every once in a while.

We had a very nice (and sometimes nonsensical) visit.

After I handed him the Messenger newspapers that he likes to read, he took note of the picture of a burnt Nebraska National Forest from last autumn.  Perhaps you’ll recall that we stopped there to eat supper in our camper last September when we were on our way to Boise, Idaho (though we only went to Wyoming, in the end)... and then a few days later, a big fire went through the area.  Firefighters saved all the homes and cattle and horses, but a 4H lodge burned down.  The article tells of plans to rebuild.

Anyway, I told this to Loren, and from then on, every last conversation ♫ ♪ circled back ♪ ♫ (with credits to Jen Psaki) ... uh, where was I?  OH!  Here I am!  (tapping top of head)  Hmmm.

Oh, yes.  Quite so.  (In a Winnie-the-Pooh tone.)

Every conversation wound up right back at the forest fire.  I showed him pictures of our niece Susan and husband Charles in Sedona; they are in Scottsdale, Arizona, getting a specialized treatment for Susan’s cancer.

Loren:  “How did they get through that forest fire?!”

I showed him pictures of the quilt I am finishing for Elaine.  Loren has been friends with Frank and Elaine for many years, and he remembers her.  “It’s amazing that she was able to save that quilt from the fire!” he said, shaking his head.

{Frank, by the way, is one of those who, after speaking with Loren several times after church, thought there truly was absolutely nothing wrong with him.  I recently learned a bit of terminology that perfectly describes how Loren, with a little effort, could (and still can, for a short bit of time) talk and act so very near normal, people who didn’t know better might be totally fooled:  “Showboating.”  Keep conversing, though, and things will head right on over into Disney World territory.}

I showed him a picture of a Purple Gallinule, telling him it was a shorebird from the southern parts of the United States, and, after exclaiming over what a beautiful bird it is (he enjoys animals and birds as much as I do), he asked, “Did it survive the fire?”

He looked at pictures of newborn calves in the Messenger, and wondered if very many had perished in the fire, and what the cattle would do with all the grass burned up.

Time and again I explained that the fire happened last autumn, and the pictures were taken in the springtime; it was in a different location, etc., and people have already begun replanting the trees in the National Forest.  He nodded each time, relieved.

The wind howled at Loren’s window, and I said, “Listen to that wind!  It was really blowing while I was driving here.”

“Ohhh,” he said, all concerned.  “That’ll just fan those flames something awful.”

We were having such captivating discussions, it was suddenly 5:15 p.m., and dinner is usually served at 5:00!  So off we went to the dining room, and there I took my leave.  He eats better if I’m not there distracting him.  And it was time for me to head home anyway.

Here’s the Platte River, with the evening sun shining on it.

I drove routes that took me off the busy four-lanes and onto the quieter county roads with all the hills and trees and pastures and creeks and rivers.  This makes for a much prettier drive.

I wish we didn’t live so far from the mountains.  I very much love the tall mountains.  I love driving through a canyon full of evergreens, with a mountain stream gurgling on one side, and the tall peaks all covered with snow towering over us.  

I once, at about age 4, said to my parents, “I’m homesick!”

They looked at me, surprised.  “But you ARE home!”

“I’m homesick for the mountains!” I explained.  😄

Early Sunday morning, I heard baby birds out near the feeders.  I stealthily peeked out the window and saw that, sure enough, the sparrows and finches were bringing their babies to the feeders.  Isn’t it fun, seeing the little birds grow and learn to fly?  “Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them.”

That dear old hymn His Eye Is on the Sparrow was written in 1905 by lyricist Civilla D. Martin and composer Charles H. Gabriel, one of my favorite composers.

There was a freeze last night, and there’ll be another tonight.  Victoria continues to cover her new plants.  “This is getting old! 😆” she texted me.

“It’ll get warmer soon!” I assured her.

In addition to many things in her vegetable garden, she has planted ranunculus bulbs, dahlias, gladioli, anemone, and begonia bulbs.  Those will all have to be dug up before next winter, if she wishes to save them.

“Does one say ‘uh-nim-uh-nee’ or ‘an-i-moan’?” I asked.  “Or is it ‘Annie-moanee’?”

“The first option!” answered Victoria, laughing.

I once had some supposedly hardy gladioluses (gladioli?) (turns out, either is correct), but they winter-killed.  I was sad about that – and not rich enough to replace them the next year.

I tried to always choose perennials, but here’s one thing about annuals:  most of them bloom continuously from Spring through Autumn.  Perennials, on the other hand, have a particular time of the season when they bloom, and rarely bloom more than a couple of weeks.  So I tried to have enough of a variety that there were bloomers (not the two-legged lacy variety) all through the season.

Too bad I learned about ‘stacking bulbs’ (crocuses, daffodils, tulips, lilies) before I learned which bulbs murder other bulbs in cold blood!  Daylily rhizomes put off chemicals that will cause tulip bulbs to deteriorate.  So my big, beautiful bed of Rembrandt tulips, stacked with all those daylilies, was beautiful for one year, less so the next, nearly gone the third.  🥴  At least I got pictures of it.

{Sidenote question for survey purposes only:  Have you ever tried pouring coffee into your mouth without touching your lips, after putting on lip balm?}

The Upside app should really adjust the wording in the ads they text customers to better match up with the gas-price news.  I just got this:  “Upside  🚨 34% higher offers 🚨.  That’s right, gas offers in your area are currently 34% higher than usual.  Find a station near you!”

Do they think we are all jubilant about such a price increase?  Or do they mean there’s a 34% higher discount?

Victoria sent a picture of Willie.

“Cute little boy,” I responded, “in a cute little hoodie.”  Then I added,  “‘Hoodie’ – sounds like ‘miniature thug’.”

Standpipe water tower for Morse Bluff, population 119

And now let’s have a bit of WoW (Words of Wisdom) from Vice President Kamala Harris, which I typed verbatim from one of her speech—— uh, spiels:

“I think it’s very important, as you have heard from so many incredible leaders, for us at every moment in time and certainly this one, to see the moment in time in which we exist and are present, and to be able to contextualize it, to understand where we exist in the history and in the moment as it relates not only to the past but the future.”

Unlike others, she does not have the excuse of dementia.

And with that rare piece of enlightenment, I shall at this moment in time take my leave of you and get me back to the quilting machine, posthaste, where I will relate not only to the past but (to) the future, quiltwise.

(Don’t try to make sense of that; you’ll hurt yourself.)

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