Journal: And Then It Snowed!

 

The other day, Levi sent me this Car Warning Symbol key, telling me that the icon that would most like come on for him would be the burning toast symbol (last one).

I like the Smelly Shoe Alert (what is it really, I wonder? a vehicle-tilt warning?) and The Kids Have Escaped (showing all the doors open).  😄

Levi liked Angry Owl Ahead – and neither of us knows what that really means.

I suggested, “Sometimes owls are angry because they’re having a bad hair day,” and sent this picture.

“Other times,” I added, “it’s because of this,” and sent this one, which is obviously AI-generated.

I can usually tell an AI picture; but AI is getting better, and it’s getting harder to tell what’s fake and what’s real.

Wednesday, I got 2 ½ blocks done for the Nine Puppies quilt, and then it was time for our evening church service.

Thursday, I paid a few bills, then worked on the Nine Puppies quilt most of the day.

This picture from the Fourth of July, 1998, scrolled through on my screensaver.  I took a screenshot and sent it to Victoria.  “This was a fun little dress to make,” I told her.

Fourth-of-July clothes were always my favorites to make.  In retrospect, I see that I went at them sorta like I go at quilting, happily coordinating and contrasting all sorts of cute fabrics, putting together things I would not do for more dressy Christmas or Easter clothes.

I picked up a grocery order at Wal-Mart at 6:00 p.m., came home and put everything away; then, discovering I was hungry, pulled several things back out for supper. 

Soon I was back upstairs sewing.  Larry was in Genoa working on a pickup.  He went hunting for a bit, but didn’t see any deer.

Since Levi likes to send me funny pictures, I sent him the below picture, writing, “Maybe spelling is important after all.”

After finishing the 30^th Log Cabin block, I quit sewing for the night.  There were ten blocks more to go, plus two more for a pillow.

I grabbed another screenshot from my screensaver and sent it to Hester, writing, “Here’s your first view of your baby sister (Lydia), when she was just a few hours old.  You were pretty pleased with the new baby, but you were tickled pink over the teeny tiny hospital gown they gave you to wear!  It was just like the big people’s gowns!”

Friday afternoon, since my feet were feeling snug and happy, I sent a note to Joseph:  “These slipper socks fit just right, and are soooo soft and warm.  Plus, the rubber bumpity-bumps on the bottoms of them squeak on the floor!  I like cheese that squeaks in my teeth... and slipper socks that squeak on the floor.  Thank you!”

You know, the fun thing about having grandchildren is that you can tell them stories about their parents.  I told this to Levi, about Hannah:

When your Mama was five years old and in kindergarten, she usually went to bed at 8:30, since she had school in the morning, and I’d get her up at 7:30.  She generally needed about eleven hours of sleep at that age.  One night she was walking through the kitchen, glanced at the microwave, and saw the time:  8:32 p.m.

“Oh, NO!!!” she exclaimed, “I’M LATE FOR BED!!!!” 😆

By Friday night, I had a total of 34 Log Cabin blocks done for Trevor’s Nine Puppies quilt.  There were six more to go, plus the extra two.

As I mentioned a week or so ago, my washing machine quit on Christmas Day.  The company, Square Trade, an Allstate company with whom we have the warranty, sent the part they determined it needed, and attempted to find a tech to come and put said part into said machine.

They did not find one.  Eventually, they offered to let me find one, promising to immediately cut me a $100 check, if I would do so.

I agreed, and proceeded to call the one and only washing machine repairman in town.  The crabby one and only washing machine repairman in town.

Now, I had already learned a few days earlier that he refuses to do business with Square Trade, because they won’t pay him mileage, and they send out the parts themselves directly to customers, preventing him from making a commission on those parts.  I commiserated with him and assured him that I would pay him myself; he would not have to do any business at all with Allstate.

And he said, said he, “Maaaa’aaaam, you aren’t LISTENING!!!”

So I was then in agreement with the man who, he complained to me, had told him just the previous night, “You are not a nice person!”

However, on the chance that I might have to buy the machine he has that is identical to mine but two years newer, with new parts installed, that he has for sale at half the price of a new one, I refrained from telling him he was worse than ‘not a nice person’; he was a pigheaded gink.  Yep, I refrained.  Commendable of me, don’t you think?  He imagines me still to be a sweet li’l ol’ lady.  >>evil sniggle<<

Now, I had been told multiple times by Square Trade NOT to open the box containing the washing machine part when it arrived.  But... Larry, evidently half asleep when I read him the email with those particular instructions, came home from work, spotted the box on the table, and tore right into it.  😯😅

Then, since I had failed to find someone to fix the machine (someone with accreditation, they said! someone with a license, they said!), Larry proceeded to pull out the washer, remove its computerish innards (scientific terminology meaning ACU, aka Analog Computational Unit?  Actuator Control Unit?  Airbag Coupling Utility?  Army Combat Uniform?), and replace it with the new piece of electronic innards.

And just like that, abracadabra, bing bang blooey, presto questo, the washing machine was back up and running in 30 minutes flat.

Or at least I thought it was.

Problem:  I did not know that Larry had not actually started a cycle.

Saturday, the Sew Fast game I ordered for Juliana arrived, and it occurred to me that I’d better let Joseph know I got it, because when he saw how much she liked it, he took note of the name of it, and I knew he was thinking of getting her one, too.

A couple of days after Christmas when Larry and I were in Wal-Mart to get Warren some birthday gifts, I happened to walk through the fabric/sewing department.  I haven’t done that in years, because... well, because I’ve become a fabric snob, and the last time I looked, I saw a lot of inferior fabric there.  I know a lot of Wal-Mart stores have quit selling fabric entirely, or only sell precuts.  Well, I was quite surprised at the long aisles of quilting cottons, and another partial aisle of various clothing fabrics.  I came to a screeching halt – no, that’s false.  It was immediately after church, and I had on a pair of black patent leather dress shoes with smooth leather soles.  Therefore, I did a loooong sliiiiide before coming to a stop.  😆

Anyway, I looked at the price:  $3.45 – $4.45/yard.  Surely it must be under par stuff, at that price.  Right?  

No, I was wrong!  I pulled out several bolts, one after another, unfolded the fabric ends, and felt it.  It was nice!  Every piece I felt was nice.  There may have been some that was higher priced, and there may have been some that wasn’t as good in quality; but I will certainly be checking Wal-Mart’s fabric section if I need coordinating fabric anytime soon.

Saturday morning, I happily trotted into the laundry room to start a load of clothes. 

I put the clothes into the washing machine... poured detergent into the dispenser... and pushed buttons to select the proper washing mode.  Lights came on, and it beeped appropriately.

Then, “Close lid to start washing cycle,” a readout on the screen ordered me.

Huh?  I reopened and shut the lid, pressed the buttons again – and got the same results.

It turns out, the washing machine is apparently upset at having itself forced open so we could retrieve the wet clothes and vacuum all the water out of it, and now it thinks the lid is not closed.  Something isn’t connecting properly in the latch, though the latch is not broken.  Siggghhhh...

I gave up on the clothes and went to get myself ready to visit Loren.

As I stood curling my hair, there was suddenly a very loud bang that I actually felt right through the floor.

What on earth?  Did an airplane strike the house??

There were several more bangs before I could get the curling iron extracted from my hair and rush out into the living room to see what was happening.

It turned out, the front screen door was flying open in the wind and slamming against the metal bench on the porch, because one of the FedEx ignoramuses had put a large box between the screen door and the inside door, effectively keeping the screen door from closing. 

The wind nearly tore the door from its hinges; they’re all bent up.  Good grief.  Anybody should’ve known that with the wind blowing as it was, leaving a door to swing merrily in the breeze was irresponsible and negligent!

As I was heading out of town, I must’ve seen a dozen bald eagles, most of them juveniles, as I traveled the bypass near the Loup Canal and the powerhouse.  They were soaring this way and that, looking to be entertaining themselves on the updrafts.

This is the Elkhorn River; I’m looking south as I cross it, heading east.

There was a new resident at Prairie Meadows.  Actually, I saw three or four who I think were new.  Of course, there are many I never see, but I can usually tell when they are new there.

Anyway, he was in a wheelchair next to Loren, who was sitting on the couch in the TV lounge.  When Loren started getting up, slowly and with a bit of difficulty, the man in the wheelchair immediately reached forward, put a hand on Loren’s elbow and helped him get to his feet, smiling at him and telling him, “There you go!” then nodding politely at me.

It’s always a pleasant surprise when one of the residents – particularly one of the male residents – is friendly and nice, as opposed to surly and belligerent.  And believe me, there have been those!  (And yes, some of those angry sorts are women.)  The staff often has to work hard to keep such people behaving all right.  It was one of those men who scratched Loren’s face, not long after he began staying there.  Another scratched his arm in September when we were in South Dakota.  Eventually the doctors and nurses get their medication adjusted properly so that such episodes don’t happen, or are rare; but sometimes someone gets set off, regardless.

I got home around 6:30 p.m.  It snowed throughout the drive to Omaha, both coming and going; but the wind blew all the snow off the roads, and they were clear.  Can you see the skiffs of snow blowing across the road?

Larry was still working on a vehicle in Genoa, but he got home before too long.  He looked at the washing machine, but it’s hard to fix something when you’re so tired you’re about to fall asleep and land inside it headfirst.  He’ll doubtless give it another try when he realizes he’s a-runnin’ outa clothes, hmmm?  😄

By 9:00 a.m. Sunday morning, I was ready to head out the door to church.  Larry was not, which is exactly what happens when we go anywhere.  It takes me much longer to get ready than it does him; but I start a whole lot sooner!  I think he should have never been exposed to the book A Wrinkle in Time when he was in grade school; it warped his timeology (should be a word) perspective.  😆

My blind friend Linda, having heard that I needed leather laces for the wooden-cover album, gave me some laces that used to be on a pair of moccasins she once had.  They’re perfect for the album, just the size I need.

As we were chatting yesterday afternoon, she asked me about a song we had sung during the morning service, ‘Saved by the Blood of the Crucified One’:  “At the end of the chorus it says ‘I am saved’ in our Braille file.  But I’m hearing people singing ‘I’m saved’.  Is it ‘I’m’ or ‘I am’?”

“It’s ‘I am’ in our Favorite Hymns,” I told her.  “I looked in the old Tabernacle Hymns that we used when I was little, and it’s ‘I am’ in that book, too.  Yet we sing ‘I’m’, and always have.  Hymnary.org has it as ‘I’m saved’, and so does Timeless Truths.org.  eHymns has ‘I am saved’.  I think ‘I’m saved’ is smoother singing.”

I told her a story about that song:  I remember singing it at a Baptist Bible Fellowship Meeting once upon a time way back when I was about nine years old.  It was in Omaha, at a Rev. DeBoer’s church, I think.  Or maybe it was a Rev. Cook’s church.  I will never forget the young woman in front of me singing that song with full gusto, doing the alto part in the chorus with all her might and main.  She had long, wavy, shiny, auburn hair, and was slim and had a pretty dress on, and she had a pretty voice, too – but the main thing I took note of was her nose. 

I could see her nose despite being behind her, you see, because every time she sang those alto repeats in the chorus, she turned her head and grinned widely at the young woman beside her, with whom she was sharing a book – so I was presented with a well-defined profile.  And her nose, me, oh my.  It was big, and hooked, with a bump in the middle where it started hooking.  I have no idea if it had been broken; nine-year-olds don’t think of things like that; they just see... SCHNOZZ. 

In spite of the nose, I thought she was very pretty, and I enjoyed the way she was having such a grand time singing a song that was fairly new to me, a song I immediately loved.

Before church last night, Larry and I had a lively debate over whether or not WD-40 gives me a headache.  He’s sure it does; I know it doesn’t (not unless someone puts a bag over my head and squirts the stuff straight into it) (into the bag, not into my head).  Pray tell, why doesn’t he worry that much about compounds and amalgamations (I should get a point for that word) that really do give me headaches, such as diesel fumes?  I think he considers diesel Eau de Parfum on parallel with Guerlain Shalimar!

Here’s a bottle of that stuff selling for $19,994.95:

Larry had been planning to take the new boom truck to Aspen Equipment in Gretna, a suburb of Omaha, today for some maintenance.  They had that thing set up – that brand-new, $$$$$$ truck – so that he had to put it in neutral, then put the cruise on at 12,000 rpms in order to run his crane.  Then he had to climb back into the cab and take it off cruise each time he needed to power the crane down.

Quality control has been nearly zilch, from start to finish with this truck and crane.  And first, it took over a year to get it!

The more he heard about the predicted weather, however, the more he thought driving to Omaha and back again would be inadvisable today.  So last night after our evening service, I followed him there after church, me in the Mercedes, Larry driving his boom truck. 

Since we hadn’t had supper, we stopped at the Love’s Truck Stop in Schuyler on the way and ate at the Subway there.  If we both don’t come down with nasty viruses within a day or two, I’ll be astonished.  The woman who fixed our sandwiches snuffled long, hard, and continuously the entire time she made those things.  Aarrgghh, and ugh, and yuck.

We got to Aspen Equipment around midnight.  Larry parked the truck, and then came and got in the Mercedes.

Aspen Equipment, from Google Street View

Just down and across the street from Aspen is a huge FedEx headquarters. 

“Look!” I exclaimed, pointing it out to Larry.  “Let’s go mess up their boxes!”  Then, after a moment’s thought, “Better yet, let’s buy some spray point and write ‘Land of Idgets’ on the side of the building.”

No, of course we didn’t do that.  Besides, the idget who brings stuff to my house probably resides in Columbus rather than Omaha.

Sigghhhh...  Being law-biting citizens (with a tip of the hat to my father) isn’t any fun.

We got home at 2:00 a.m. – and have been glad all day that we weren’t on the roads between Columbus and Omaha.

By noon today, we had close to 6” of snow, and it was still coming down at the rate of more than two inches per hour.  Snowplows have not been able to keep up.

Right after I took these pictures at about 12:30 p.m., I went out and filled the bird feeders.  I looked like the Abominable Snowman by the time I was done!  ☃️

Yesirree, it was a good thing we took that truck to Omaha last night, instead of waiting until today.

The next picture was taken at 2:00 p.m., with the following pictures being taken at 3:45 p.m. and 5:10 p.m.  I don’t think either the scissor lift or the roofing supplies are going to be used anytime soon, do you?

Meanwhile, the geraniums in the laundry room are still blooming profusely.  

The dark-eyed juncos are enjoying the birdseed.  There was a house finch at the feeders, too, and a blue jay.  I heard the metallic chirp of a downy woodpecker, but didn’t see it.

The pictures at 5:10 p.m. were my last shots of the day, as it got dark soon afterwards.  We had about 11” of snow, and it was still snowing intermittently.

Joseph sent pictures of the soup and the loaded cornbread he made for their dinner tonight, using the mixes we gave them for Christmas.  “I added a pound of Italian sausage and a pound of course ground chuck to the soup,” he said.

By dusk, the temperature was just falling below 30°, so it was a dampish snow.  “Perfect for a rip-roaring snowball fight!” I told Joseph, and reminded him of the time we had a snowball fight atop Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park in July, years ago.

I was once borrowing my father’s 1978 Peugeot 604 sedan, the most expensive of the Peugeots he had, while my Le Car was having the oil changed, or something on that order.  They called that Peugeot ‘The French Mercedes’, and it was no wonder.  It was a lovely car. 

It was wintertime, and I was driving home from work.  I went around a corner and turned onto a wide street, and that wide icy expanse was just too tempting.

I stepped on the accelerator and cranked the wheel sideways.

And then my hair stood straight up on end, because that push on the accelerator was propelling me forward faster than expected, and I was spinning a circle, and there was a parked pickup halfway down the block!

Aaaiiiiyiiiiiyiiiiiieeee.

I managed to get everything under control in the nick of time, and went skinning past the pickup, aiming straight again.

I did not do THAT again.  At least, not on a roadway!

You see, the car was a luxurious toy to me, because it was rear-wheel drive.  My Le Car was front-wheel drive, and I couldn’t get that thing to spin and do donuts properly, not even by pulling up the emergency brake.

But, like I said, I did not do that again with my father’s nice car.  I wonder if any of the people who lived on that street were watching my shenanigans from their windows?

By 7:00 this evening, the wind was picking up, and the house was getting colder.  Weather apps were warning of blizzard conditions.  I put on another layer of clothes.

Keith wrote to ask if we were snowed in yet, then laughingly remarked, “We Jacksons never get snowed in!  We find our way out!”

One Christmas Day, though, we were snowed in long enough that we missed the Christmas dinner.  That day, I walked outside to take pictures, rounded the corner of the house on the east — just as Caleb leaped off a snow drift that nearly reached to the second-floor window.

My heart nearly stopped.

Ka-FLOOOOF, he vanished in the snow ... and then came floundering back out, laughing sheepishly.  He’d only seen me when he was in mid-jump.

Larry and Caleb finally got the drive cleared enough to get a vehicle out, and away they went, destination unknown.  

In the meantime, Victoria and I cooked up the best chili I’ve ever made in my life, before or since.  And those two left without coming in the house – right about the time I decided the chili was done, and dished it up.

They landed at Bobby and Hannah’s house, as Hannah had called to tell Larry that they had collected food for us from the church.  Larry and Caleb proceeded to sit themselves down right then and there and have Christmas dinner, a few hours late.

Upon learning where they had gone and what they were doing, Victoria suggested we put their bowls of chili over their heads, as soon as they got home.  😆

Ah, well.  Chili is always better on day two, because the spices... assimilate.  Amalgamate.  Apostate.  Something.

Any day now, Kurt and Victoria will add one more member to their little family.  We were hoping it wouldn’t be today! – and still hoping it’s not tonight.

Larry called at 7:30 to tell me he had gone from Columbus, 7 miles to our east, to Genoa, 15 miles to our west, and was putting a snowblade on the RZR.  He said he had no trouble in the snow at all, as he had snow tires put on the BMW a couple of weeks ago.

Picture from Rambling Adventures

It’s midnight now, and the wind is getting stronger; it’s howling around the eaves.  The temperature has gone back up to 32° after dropping to 29° earlier, but the windchill is only 12°, what with the wind gusting at 45+ mph.  Let’s hope the electricity doesn’t go off.  Not only do I not know how to start our big generator, I don’t even know where it is!  (And no, I do not want to learn how to run it, because then it would become my job from now on ’til eternity begins.

When I was little, we had an elderly neighbor lady who was one day talking with my mother.  “I’m not worried about the electricity going out!” she chattered away.  “I’ll just climb in bed and turn on the electric blanket!”

“Did you explain why that wouldn’t work?” asked Daddy as my mother related the story.

Mama, who rarely said anything bad about anybody, told my father, “I couldn’t!  She talks breathing in and breathing out, and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise!”  hee hee

(But I remember my parents making sure the lady was all right, any time we had a power failure.)

This is the Elkhorn River; I’m looking north as I cross it, heading west.  Can you see the three ducks on the water?

Ten minutes ago, Larry called to tell me he was on his way back from Genoa, but he’ll be heading on into Columbus to help a friend and coworker who’s trying to push snow, but the blade on his pickup isn’t working right.  Larry thinks it’s probably a blown fuse.

The road has snow on it, with a few drifts here and there, nothing too bad.  However, the wind is blowing hard, making it difficult to see, so he’s taking his time.  There’s no one else on the road.

You know, if the electricity fails, I have rotary cutters that run entirely on hand-power.  And when it’s too dark to see, why, I can play the piano! 

Right now, though, I’m sipping Christmas Cupcake coffee, glad it’s not too awfully hot, because I’m nursing a sore tongue from those horrid Skittles someone put in my bag of Christmas candy and nuts.  I knew they would make my mouth sore, and I don’t even like them; but I ate them anyway, because I’m a valiant person.  I suck on them, because I really hate it when they stick to my teeth.

Yuck.  Why didn’t I just eat some of these fresh strawberries?!!

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