Journal: A Quilt Show & A Wedding

 

Tuesday, I got a few volunteer trees cut down, a bunch of mouse ears (invasive wildflowers) pulled, and spent hosta blossoms cut.  Now the sidewalk out to the driveway is a little bit easier to navigate.  It was either trim, lop, and weed, or equip visitors with machetes!

We had leftovers for supper that night – porkchops, potatoes, and carrots.  As Larry and I ate supper, we watched pictures from my screensaver scrolling by on my laptop.  We laughed all over again at these pictures (below).  Zoom in and look at what little Hester is doing in the first picture – and look at how tickled she was over herself in the second picture.  😂

She was such a funny little fixin’.

Here’s a pronghorn antelope we saw in Custer State Park.  This info is from the Elk Daily Free Press:  Antelope can easily jump an 8-foot fence.  Horizontal jumps are more routine but no less impressive.  During high-speed runs, herds may jump a 25-foot-wide gully, with the entire herd in the air at the same time.

Pronghorns are the only animals in the world that have forked horns that shed each year.  Also, both male and female antelope have horns, though the females’ are generally quite a bit shorter and smaller.

A pronghorn can run up to 60 miles per hour, which makes them the second-fastest land animal in the world (cheetahs can run up to 61 mph).  Although second to the cheetah, the pronghorn can sustain its speed for much longer.  Antelope have the ability to run at a steady clip of 30 mph for over 20 miles!

Last week on our Quilt Talk group, we discussed odd things we have accidentally sewn into quilts, or onto the backs of them.

In February of 2017, I was making a set of ‘Monthly Hang-Ups’.

I had all the blocks sewn together and turned, and was hand-stitching the holes shut at the bottom.  I turned them right side out as I went along, using my Oxmoor House point turner.

I sewed another block... turned it... reached for the point turner...

It was gone.

I looked high and low... and then I looked low and high.  I looked in the trash can.  I looked under my sewing machine.  I looked under my laptop.  I looked in the other sewing room.  I looked in my pockets.  I gave up and went for my other point turner, which isn’t quite as pointy.

Flash forward:

I finished stitching shut the hole on hanging block #6, reached over to lay it on the stack – Uh, wuzzis?  There’s somethin’ sorta hard and plasticky inside this thing.

?

Oh.  Yes.

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

So I ripped it back open and extracted my Oxmoor House point turner.

One lady told this story: 

“I had a quilt loaded on the long arm frame and was basting the top of it in place before I started quilting when I somehow managed to get my little finger in the way.  The needle went right through it and into the quilt and stopped.  I hit the needle up/down button and nothing happened.

“Now what?!

“Somehow I was completely calm.  I couldn’t reach the hand wheel to manually move the needle up so I looked around and saw my phone.  It was in reach, so I grabbed it and called my husband who was home somewhere.  No answer!!  

“I finally grabbed the needle bar and forced it up enough to get my finger out.  It hadn’t bled a drop on the quilt, but it started bleeding then!  

“The finger was fine.  Thankfully I had missed the bone.  I am much more careful now!”

Yikes and ouch, what a predicament that would be.  Most of us can’t go away like Samson, “with pin of the beam, and with the web” – i.e., with the needle still through the finger, and the longarm and all the poles tucked under the other arm!

Another time, I was looking at the underside of my quilt to see if the bobbin tension in the longarm was right, employing my usual method of a mirror and a flashlight.  The overhead light was shining through the quilt so brightly that I could not well see the stitching, so I grabbed a pattern envelope that was near at hand and laid it atop the quilt to prevent the light from shining through.

Determining that the tension was fine, I slid the mirror back down the quilting table, turned off the flashlight and put it in its place, got a grip on the handles, pressed “On”, and quilted away.

Since I was doing a pantograph, I was working from the back of the quilt, and did not need to walk around to the front side.  Thus, not seeing the pattern, I forgot all about it.

My machine valiantly quilted right through the pattern envelope, folded pattern inside and all.  I didn’t notice until I walked around to the front to advance the quilt to the next row.  It was not easy, extracting that pattern from the quilt!

Furthermore, once was not enough!!!  I did it again.

I now place a ruler, or a Red Snapper clamp, anything, across the rear handles of my machine at the same time I lay a magazine (or that same hapless pattern) atop the quilt to block light.  If ze ol’ brain cannot remember such things, I must make it impossible to proceed before getting stuff off the quilt.

Here are some of the acorns that were falling on the pickup in Custer State Park, where Larry was fishing in a creek and pond.  They were from a bur oak.

Would you believe, there are about 600 different types of oak trees around the world, including hybrid oaks?  In the United States, there are about 90 native oak varieties.  There are even a few evergreens in the mix.

Here’s a comment on the Mt. Rushmore Facebook page:  “I wonder how Lewis and Clark felt when they walked up to the presidents’ monument on Mt. Rushmore?”

Next comment:  “Do you know that they did, and if so, what did they say about it?”

And yes, that question was asked in all gravity.  🙄

Speaking of goofy questions...  Somebody commented on one of my photos of solar-powered wells out west, “That’s a first.  Does it work in the winter?”

My Mama frowned on me saying, “Don’t be a dingbat!” so instead I wrote the following:

They work with sunlight – and there’s sunlight in the winter, just as there’s sunlight in the summer.  But solar pumps will even operate under cloudy conditions without any outside help from backup power.  Even if the weather is rainy and overcast, the system will still operate, just at decreased power.  So if on a normal rainy day the pump is rated to pump 5 gallons per minute, one can expect 2-3 gallons per minute under cloudy conditions, depending on the density of clouds.

Ranchers generally store several days’ worth of water, too, to ensure they have enough supply to tide them over if there is extensive cloud cover.  Water is usually stored in tanks or cisterns.

Pactola Reservoir

Most solar systems come with a battery backup that stores extra solar power on sunny days.  So, whether it’s a rainy day or nighttime, the battery backup keeps the pump working smoothly and delivering water.  AC grid/generator power input is also available with most systems.  This can be directly utilized or converted to DC using a converter, powering the pumps and ensuring water availability anytime.

It didn’t take long before the woman responded, “boy your [sic] smart about a lot of things.  I’m wondering if you’re really a man.  Lol.”

That’s one of her less abrasive comments.  I wonder how often that woman gets herself punched in the face?  I leave her in my Friends list because I don’t watch soap operas.  😆

Wednesday night after church, we were chatting with various members of the family.  Violet gave us an invitation to her birthday party.  She’ll be five on October 4^th.  The party is on the 6^th, which is my birthday.

“This means you are two days older than me!” I told her, after remarking on the dates.  

She was grinning, shaking her head, and wrinkling her cute little nose at me before I ever finished the sentence.

A few days ago, Victoria said to Violet, “Phewwww!  Your breath smells like a dead animal.”

Quick as a wink and in all seriousness, Violet said, “That’s because I ate chicken earlier.”

Merritt Reservoir

Thursday, Levi texted me with some advice:  “Drink coffee before bed, so you can focus on sleeping.”

“That’s what I do!” I agreed.  “It works really well.”  🤣

Friday morning, I got up early and prepared to go visit Loren.  I packed a suitcase, because I planned to head on to Des Moines to attend the AQS quilt show after leaving Omaha.

I got to Prairie Meadows at about 11:40 a.m., about 20 minutes before lunchtime.  Loren was in a small sitting area near a far back door.  A man who uses a walker was in an armchair beside him.  He kept interrupting our conversation, lifting a hand high and then asking me over and over again, “Do you have a last meal for me?”

I assured him (over and over again) that it was almost time for lunch.  This did not seem to cheer him in the slightest. 

Maybe he thought he would be executed shortly thereafter?

After a bit, he got to his feet, pushed his walker directly over to me, nearly running over Loren’s feet in the process (Loren has learned to get his feet out of the way of such things), got himself right in my face, and asked again, “Do you have a last meal for me?!”

I smiled at him and again told him lunch was nearly ready, and pointed down the hallway toward the dining room, telling him, “They’ll be opening the doors soon!  You can head that way, if you like.”

No amount of my cheeriness and reassurance could elicit a smile from the man, but at least my directives got him out of my face and trundling off down the hallway.  Loren really is the cheeriest of all the residents I have seen there.

He was puzzled that day, though, over just where the dining room was, regardless of the fact that he’s been eating there three times a day for a year and nine months.  He almost walked right past the open French doors, then, realizing his error, backtracked, weaved his way past a couple of people in wheelchairs, and made his way into the room.  I pointed out a table.  I like to choose the ones at the sides of the room where there are only two chairs per table, so we can have a bit more privacy (not that it matters, really).

I saw the man with the walker again raising his hand and inquiring of one of the workers, “Do you have a last meal for me?”

She pointed out the food right in front of him, and said, “There it is, honey!  Just go ahead and eat!”

He looked down at it, unconvinced. 

I wonder just exactly what he thought his last meal was going to look like?  Whatever it was, this wasn’t it, apparently.

The lunch looked and smelled good, as it almost always does.  There were crackers, juice, and water waiting at each place.  Soon they brought tomato basil soup and cornbread.  This was followed by lettuce salad and a small bowl of fruit, including a large wedge of orange. 

Loren began eating his soup and cornbread.  I had to keep reminding him to eat; I and the magazines I’d brought were clearly a distraction.  When the salad and fruit arrived, he picked up the orange wedge and took a bite. 

“Mmmm, this is good!” he exclaimed. 

He has always loved oranges. 

Then he picked up his knife and prepared to cut the piece in half, asking, “Do you want the other half?”

“No, no, you eat it!” I told him.  “It wasn’t very long ago that I ate breakfast, and I have some things in the car to snack on as I drive.” 

I had already told him I was on my way to Des Moines, but he forgets things like that within seconds of the words coming out of my mouth.  I just tell it again... and again... as if it’s brand-new news, every time.

When I remarked that his soup looked good, and he agreed it was very good, he offered the rest of it to me.  He asked if I wanted some crackers... then some of the cornbread.

This is so like Mama was, before she passed away.  If the kids and I ever showed up at her house when she was eating, or later at the hospital at lunchtime or suppertime, she never failed to offer us some of her food.

I was hungry for an orange the rest of the day.  😄 

I could’ve gotten one at a truck stop or convenience store, probably, but I never spotted one – and besides, I don’t like eating them as I drive; I don’t particularly like orange juice dribbling down my arms and getting on the steering wheel.  Also, I didn’t have a good way of peeling it.  (My fingernails don’t appreciate that job.)

Leaving Prairie Meadows at about 12:35 p.m., I headed east toward Des Moines, crossing the Mormon Bridge over the Missouri River.  The Pioneer-Mormon Cemetery is just a little bit to the south.  I have some ancestors buried there.  They were traveling in a wagon train with the Mormons, who were headed to Utah.  I do not know if those ancestors subscribed to the Mormon beliefs or not; our genealogy does not record anyone who did – but maybe that’s because the rest of the family did not agree with those beliefs. 

There were bad drivers all over the place, on that drive.  Uh, that is, on my drive to Des Moines; not on the Mormons’ drive to Utah.  Or maybe there were, but I don’t know about it.

There are many overpasses along the Interstate that are country roads passing overhead.  The bridges themselves are paved, so as to cut down on the chances of rocks being thrown onto cars passing underneath.  As I approached one of these bridges, a big John Deere tractor pulling a large John Deere wagon went over. 

Now, I was in the left lane, about to overtake and pass a semi in the right lane.  We were going 70-75 mph.

My best guess is, he must’ve noticed the tractor and trailer, same as me, and watched it too long – because he drifted off the road, onto the shoulder and then even farther to the right, and was fast heading straight for the bridge abutment.

I had long gotten my foot off the accelerator, disengaged the cruise, and had my foot hovering right over the brake pedal, expecting the worse.

And then, at what surely must’ve been one of the very last seconds, he wrenched that big rig back onto the shoulder, and then returned it to the right lane, wigwagging it somethin’ fierce.

Aiiiiyiiiyiiieee.  I needed a nitroglycerin pill, after that.

I checked in to AmericInn in Johnston, a northern suburb of Des Moines, a little before 4:00 p.m.  I would wait until the next day to go to the quilt show.  I didn’t want to get shooed out at closing time (5:00 p.m.); I wanted to be able to take my time and really see everything.  Last year when I went to this quilt show, my eyes were being very troublesome, and I didn’t stay long at all.  I’m a-tellin’ you, it’s hard to look at quilts when one’s eyes are squinted tight shut!

This year, even though it’s almost time for my next Botox treatment (which I may have to cancel, if the insurance company refuses to help us), I did not have much trouble with my eyes at all.  What a relief that is.

The AmericInn was not nearly so nice as the Stoney Creek Inn where I stayed last year.  “Plus, it smells vaguely like feet,” I texted Larry, then added, “The Italian zuppa soup is in a bowl on the top shelf of the freezer.  It’s enough for your supper.”

He soon texted me back:  “👍 I hope you don’t get aficionados.  🤪😜😉”

Haha, him and his texting.

“An aficionado,” I informed him, “is a person who is very knowledgeable and enthusiastic about something.  Since I’ve already got that, what DO you hope I don’t get??”

He explained himself:  “I started to type affixiated 🤔 (he inserted that pondering face because of course his phone protested over his spelling of ‘asphyxiated’), but that showed up, so I used it.  That fits your sense of smell.  😄”

I was starving and didn’t want to go get supper yet, so I went exploring through the halls of the motel.  My room was on the second floor.  There were no elevators.  I found a bunch of vending machines – but I had only a one-hundred-dollar bill.  So I went and got some cash at the front desk.  There were over a dozen security monitors in a grid on the wall.

Gesturing at them, I said to the lady at the desk, “You probably saw me wandering along this way from the time I left my room!  Eventually, you knew I was going to pop around that corner >>I pointed at it<< asking for change for the vending machine.”

She laughed, and doled out bills and coins.

I then spent $1.75 on a couple of Nature Valley Oats & Honey crunchy granola bars.  I had a little carton of yogurt and a little bowl of applesauce with them, and washed it down with Celsius Sparkling Watermelon.

Then I edited pictures for a couple of hours before going to Panera Bread to get some supper, using a gift certificate one of the children gave us. 

I got a cup of Broccoli Cheddar Soup, Fuji Apple Salad with Chicken, a Mango Smoothie, a Bear Claw – and of course the customary chunks of bread with both the salad and the soup.

There is now only $1.18 left on the $30 gift certificate from one of the kids.  Good grief.  But I saved one chunk of bread, half the Bear Claw, and two-thirds of the salad for the next day, so I wouldn’t have to buy any lunch.  That’s not too bad, I guess.

Saturday morning, my alarm went off at 6:00 a.m.  I got up and prepared to go to the quilt show.  The showerhead in that motel room had Super Blast setting.  I like Super Blast settings!  🤣🚿 

There were little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion, along with a couple of bars of soap.  The room was nice and clean, the bed was very comfortable, and had the softest downy comforter on it, with a thin, crinkled bedspread over that, all in white.  Very nice.  The pillows didn’t suit me, though; but I’d brought my own, so that was not a problem.  I only paid $84 for the room.  I had some accumulated points with booking .com, so that made it a little cheaper.  It was a small room, with no freezer in the refrigerator – and I like to refreeze the ‘flexible ice cubes’ I keep in my cooler.  But really, for the price, it wasn’t bad.

The Internet connection was worse than dial-up, however.  I soon switched back to my phone’s hotspot.  I wrote a note to the staff there at AmericInn about a faulty lamp in the room, scribbling on a Days Inn paper with a Comfort Inn pen.  Is that bad form, do you think?

There was no coffeemaker in the room.  Good thing I brought a tall Thermos full of French Vanilla coffee from home!  I can’t fix my hair properly without coffee!!  There may have been coffee in the pump Thermoses in the breakfast area; I did not check during my explorations the previous night.

After putting a few curls in me snowy tresses, I trotted downstairs for breakfast.  Even though it was a fairly cheap motel, they had nearly as nice a breakfast layout as the more expensive places – and whataya know, there were big, bright oranges in a basket in there!  I gleefully grabbed one; I would eat it later.  I had a slice of toast with strawberry jelly on one side and mixed berry jelly on the other (speaking of ‘left and right’ sides, not ‘top and bottom’ sides, heh), a scoop of scrambled eggs, milk, apple juice, and coffee.  I also got a carton of yogurt, which I brought home with me.  Larry ate it later.

The Iowa Events Center would not open until 9:00, so I packed up and drove to Saylorville Dam, where I got pictures of Great blue herons, vultures, pelicans, and boats on the water.

This Great blue heron landed first, and was just minding his own business, looking for fish and doing herony stuff, when along came Great blue heron #2.  This second heron landed on a log to the right, and then proceeded to march along it in a threatening manner toward heron #1.  Finally, as he was nearing the first heron, he took a short, fast hop, flapping angrily, and heron #1 took off for safer, more peaceful perches.

Great blue heron #2 stood and looked totally smug, in his heronish way.

It was time to go to the quilt show.  I turned south and headed into the city.

Des Moines has a lot of old, skinny, potholed streets – with bad drivers on them who like to take their half in the middle.  The population of Des Moines is about 212,000; but the population of the entire Greater Des Moines/West Des Moines metropolitan area is about 700,000.

At the Iowa Events Center, I paid $12 for a parking spot in the little parking lot south of the Center.  The price has gone up $2 since last year.  I think the big parking lot a couple of blocks to the north may have offered free parking; but my hip and leg have not totally recovered from toting things out to the camper back on Labor Day.  It entailed going up and down hundreds of steps – all while I was sick with a nasty cold.  Anyway, I thought it best not to walk that far just to get to the Events Center.  What if, on my way back to that far parking lot, after trekking about that huge quilt display and vendor room, I couldn’t make it all the way without sitting on a curb halfway there?  Why, people would drive by and pitch dollar bills out, thinking I was a homeless person!

$$$  Huh.  On second thought, maybe I should’ve parked there.  $$$

Nope.  >>Looking in the mirror...<<  I don’t look very homeless, zat’s ze troof o’ ze mattuh.

Now, $12 to get into the show.

I took the first picture inside the building at 10:26 a.m., and the last picture at 12:26 p.m. 

I hadn’t intended to buy anything at the show at all.  I only wanted to see everything, including the things at the vendors’ booths.  I’d had such troubles with my eyes in the last couple of years, I had not been able to well enjoy doing that at all.  And I didn’t get anything quilt-related! – though you might say that one of the things I did get is quilt-related after all, since this item helps with various aches and pains, and quilting and sewing can be a bit difficult, when various aches and pains are being all noisy about it.

Well, I walked through all the aisles full of quilts on the south side of the room, taking pictures of each and every one.  Then I started exploring the vendors’ booths in the center of the room.  By this time, my back and hip were hurting so much, I was about to look for a good place to sit down for a while.

In fact, I did find a place to sit for just a few minutes, where a vendor was selling vibrating pillows.  A couple of minutes with one tucked behind my back helped enough that I got up and proceeded on my way, telling the lady, “I just might be back!” 

But those pillows were $48 apiece.  I might not be back, too.

Two more aisles, and I was trying not to limp.  I rounded a corner – and there was a booth where a lady was selling something that looked mighty interesting.  I paused, and read one of the signs:  “Utopia Gear Pro 4.0 TENS and Powered Muscle Stimulator,” it said.  

TENS is an acronym for ‘Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulation’.

“Would you like to try it out?” asked the lady, noticing my interest.

“Yes,” I agreed, and pointed to the spot on my back that was hurting. 

She affixed the little gel pads to me, turned on the unit, and handed me the control, giving me a quick explanation of how to use it before returning to her first customer.

I fiddled with it, trying out a number of settings. 

By the time the lady came back, I’d had the unit on for ten minutes.  In that short length of time, my back and hip felt so much better, I just hauled right off and bought the thing.

Here’s a picture of it from their website.  Quilt show price was cheaper; I got it for $149.95 rather than the $209.99 list price.

I was able to finish my walk around that huge event center taking pictures – and I’d been about ready to hang it up for a while, until using the TENS unit.

Here’s the description from the site:

 

The Pro 4.0 is our latest, top of the line model.  

 

Its unique features are:

·                  16 modes 

·                  20 levels of intensity

·                  Dual inputs mean you can use 4 TENS unit pads to treat 2 different areas at 2 different intensities at the same time

·                  10-60 minute adjustable timer

·                  Dimensions: 3.75”H X 2”W X 1/4”D

 

Other features:

·                  Lithium Ion battery lasts weeks, not days – lasts up to 30 stim sessions before needing an approximate one-hour charge

·                  LCD display with bright backlight – perfect to use in bed at night

·                  Portable TENS unit – fits in your pocket

 

An On-Call Pain Reliever

Our stim machines are just as powerful as the ones that are used in physical therapy and at chiropractors’ offices.  With our powerful machines, you can enjoy TENS therapy and relieve your pain anytime and anywhere at a much lower cost.

Feels Amazing

If you’ve always associated TENS units with ‘needles’ or a ‘stinging’ sensation, you’re in for a surprise.  The Pro 4.0 has 16 different modes, each designed to help fight pain and provide temporary relief (with the added bonus of TENS technology).  With so many modes, you can target different pain points while you sit back and relax or are on the move. 

Built to Last

Our well-built machines are designed for heavy use, and so are our electrode pads.  While some of our competitors give their customers low-quality pads that require replacements every couple of weeks, our pads are super-tough, lasting 6 months if taken care of properly.  You’ll be hard-pressed to find any others that last as long!

Included in your box:

·                  1 Pro 4.0 TENS Machine

·                  1 x large and 1 x small set of long-lasting TENS electrode pads  

·                  1 x USB adapter 1 x wall adaptor

·                  Two-year warranty (we will honor any issue)

·                  Instructions brochure 

 

*        *        *

 

The only other thing I got was a set of products to clean jewelry. 

I was walking down one of the outer aisles near the vendors’ booths, when a lady asked if I’d like to have my rings cleaned.

“Sure!” I said, and pulled off my wedding ring for her to work on.

She brushed some cream stuff on it, then wiped it with a cloth – leaving black all over the white cloth.

“Was all that from my ring?!” I asked, and she said it was.

She then rinsed it in a pink solution, then in something clear, dried it with the cloth, and handed back a shiny, sparkling ring.

“Wow!” I exclaimed.  “I need that stuff.”

So I bought it... picked up the bag... and then, holding my hand out in front of me so I could look at my ring, told the lady, “Now I won’t be able to take any more pictures, because all I can do is admire my ring!”

As I continued on my way, bags in hand, I remembered telling the nice lady who was selling the vibrating pillows, “I might be back!”  I paused, glancing down aisles, and chose an aisle where the nice lady was not.

Except I guessed wrong, and there she was.

I saw her, and she saw me, too.  With bags in my hands.

I gave her a friendly smile and kept walking.  Well, that is, it was supposed to have been a friendly smile.  It was probably more sheepish than anything else.

About the time I thought I was done, I discovered several more aisles of quilts on the north side of the room.  I made my way through them, trying not to miss anything – and was very glad I had, because I found an entire collection of vintage and antique quilts.

As I worked my way through, nary another soul in the vicinity, one of the white-glove ladies came along and said in a strident schoolmarmish voice, “Don’t touch the quilts, please!”  She snapped open a metal chair, plunked it down near me, and plopped into it, purportedly to keep a good eye on a criminal such as me.  “And enjoy the quilts!” she added belatedly.

By then, the TENS therapy had worn off and my back was hurting again, and I wanted to snarl, “Does it look like I’m touching them?!!”  Or, better yet, “I took a nap in that one,” pointing out one of the oldest in the lot, “and it didn’t hurt it a bit.”  Instead, I gave her a hypocritical smile and said sweetly, “Thank you!” without pausing in my photographical journey.

Here’s one entitled ‘Young Man’s Fancy’ that was made in 1825 by a lady named Content Newton in Durham, Connecticut.  Just think, that quilt will be 200 years old in only two more years.  And it is still in excellent condition, considering its age.

And then I really was done; there was nothing else to see.  I had looked at it all.

I went back to the Mercedes, glad it was in the near parking lot rather than several blocks away.  By that time, I was thirsty and hungry.  I drank some coffee, opened a can of Celsius Sparkling Watermelon, put it in the holder and turned on its cooler, and then pulled out that last chunk of bread and the Bear Claw half I had saved from the previous night.  I would eat as I drove, just as soon as I got out of Des Moines’ unbridled traffic.

By 1:20 p.m., I was at the rest area where they have a blade from one of those huge wind generators on display, sitting perpendicular to the ground.

If they really wanted to make this rest area interesting, they’d put a rope ladder up the side of that thing, with a bungee cord at the top.  😅

Half an hour later, I exited the Interstate and headed north toward Elk Horn, Iowa, to see the Danish Windmill, whose advertisements I’ve seen on billboards ever since I was a little girl.  I’ve wanted to see that thing as long as I can remember!

I went over a hill, and...  Uh, oh.  Someone had exited a field where they were harvesting, and had spilt corn all over the highway.  The mess continued for a mile, when the truck or tractor had pulled into a farmyard drive and parked momentarily, as there was quite a pile of corn there in the lane.

Six miles north of the Interstate, there was the town of Elk Horn and the Danish Windmill.  A short distance to the west is the Danish Museum.  That could wait for another time.

Hey, I just found where I can take a virtual tour! – Explore the Danish Museum

Ohhh, lookie that:  Victor Borge’s piano is there!  (Well, one of them, anyway.)  Oh, and how ’bout this, I found a motorcycle!  And a quilt!

Here’s a Lego display... with several tables where children can play.  >>zooming in on a sign...<< 

Well, I declare.  Did you know Lego blocks originated in the Billund, Denmark, workshop of Ole Kirk Christiansen, who began making wooden toys in 1932?  Two years later, he named his company LEGO after the Danish phrase leg godt (‘play well’).

Ooookay.  I have now seen the museum (virtually).  Thus, I have now saved myself $7.

I spent about 50 minutes at the Danish Windmill, climbing up to the second floor, and walking the grounds to see a 900 AD Viking Hjem, or Viking smithy’s home, and a tiny little chapel built by a local Dane. 

I had not known that this Windmill was actually from Denmark! 

The project started when an area farmer, Harvey Sornson, decided to save an authentic windmill, moving it from Denmark to Elk Horn, Iowa, where was the largest rural Danish settlement in the United States.  He presented his idea, and within five months the people of Elk Horn had raised enough money to purchase the windmill and bring it across the Atlantic. 

This windmill was originally built in 1848 in Nørre Snede, Denmark.  It had endured two World Wars and a massive fire.

It was carefully dismantled, and the pieces numbered.  A 10:1 scale model standing six feet high was built to correspond with the original mill for rebuilders to use as a guide.

It was restored to working condition by 1976, a wonderful Bicentennial project and a tourist attraction that has helped a small rural community continue to thrive, and has honored the forefathers of Elk Horn and preserved a part of the area’s Danish heritage.

At the Windmill Museum and Gift Shop, I watched a video about the purchase and reconstruction of the Windmill, and then climbed up into the Windmill itself and walked around the balcony.

In the little store, I bought Danish pancake mix and a chunk of Old Style White Cheddar Cheese.  Oh, and a bottle of water.  It was hot, and I was thirsty.  I’d’ve liked to get some of those sofffft, sofffft, woolen socks; but... $$$$!!!

Heading south toward the Interstate, I went over a few hills, and saw flashing lights ahead.  It was patrolmen, stopping traffic, letting first the north-going traffic through, then the south-going traffic, in turns, while farmers, with help from a couple of policemen, scooped the spilled grain off the highway.

That mishap surely made a long day of harvesting a whole lot longer – and it was around 90°, too.  Plus, all that waste.  I felt bad for them.

Tractors and combines in the fields sure were stirring up a lot of dust.  Fortunately, most of it was blowing away from the highway and the Interstate.

By a quarter ’til four, I was crossing the Missouri River into Nebraska.  Thirty minutes later, I was at Sapp Bros. truck stop in Fremont.  I was hungry, so I ate the rest of the salad from Panera Bread.

I have got to remember to tell them to leave off the blue cheese next time!  It makes me green, and not with envy.  🤢

I passed a pickup pulling a big horse trailer.  A window in the trailer was open just enough that the resident horse could stick his nose out – and his lips were rippling back in the wind, making all his teeth show.  🤣

I didn’t get a picture, as there was way too much traffic, moving way too fast; but he looked a lot like this:

It was a little after five when I got home.

After seeing the pictures of turkeys I took recently in South Dakota, a friend asked if they are very big.

Turkeys are big birds.  The adult male (gobbler or tom) stands 3 to 3½ feet tall and weighs 18 to 24 pounds.  Females (hens) are smaller, typically 2½ to 3 feet tall and weighing 8 to 12 pounds.

One more pretty quilt from the quilt show: 

I have several hundred more to go through, including the Best of Show and others that received pretty ribbons.

Yesterday evening, we attended a wedding.  Neither the bride nor the groom are related to us (gasp!), but the three little flowergirls are.

After the reception, little Willie was sitting on Larry’s lap, and I was playing with him with his little Caterpillar loader, driving it on the table and up his arm.  He bumped Larry’s hand, and Larry, talking with Victoria and not looking at the goings-on in his lap, turned his cupped hand over, palm up, to catch a possible wayward loader.

Willie looked at his Grandpa’s hand.  Then, quick as a wink, that funny little boy snatched the loader out of my hand and ker-plunked it straight into Larry’s.  😄

I sent a book for Aaron home with Hannah, “All Creatures Great and Small,” by James Herriot, the English veterinarian.  Hopefully, if his ankle is healing well enough, he’ll be able to get around a little better soon.  Aaron, that is, not James Herriot.  James Herriot’s broken leg healed in 1994. 

Oh, now you want to know what happened to James Herriot?  Well, he got butted and trampled by a flock of sheep, that’s what!  Truly.

Here’s the wedding party.  The three little flowergirls, my great-great-nieces, are Jill, Mckenna, and Laura.  Mckenna and Laura are sisters.

The expression on the littlest ring bearer Evan’s face makes me laugh.  It’s like he wasn’t quite sure about everything, so therefore he only consented to smiling with half his face.  😄

Time to fly into the feathers!

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