Journal: Quilts Old & New

 

A friend recently sent a video clip of a calico kitten playing with a young baby guinea pig.  They both ran helter-skelter, hither and thither – and the piggy clambered all around and over the kitty if she tried to lie down.

It reminded me of our Calico Kitty.  She was fine with little animals, whether it was our hamsters or our birds.  All our other cats, though, would’ve assumed some animated Fancy Feast Cat Treats had just fallen into their greedy clutches.

Tuesday, I began working on the 65-year-old quilt/comforter for our friend John, son-in-law Bobby’s father.  It was made for John by his mother, all those years ago.

Repairing this old quilt was... uh, ... ‘thought-provoking’, shall we say.  The batting(?) has evidently shrunk more than the fabric, but the tied yarn has held everything in place, causing pleats to form from one yarn knot to the next.  It’s not at all an unpleasant effect, but it did make me scratch my head a bit as to just how to deal with it.  I decided to sew a wide binding as flat as I could, and let the chips fall where they may.

A quilting friend suggested removing the ties/knots, replacing the batting, making repairs, and then binding it. 

However, I knew John would not want that much work put into it, and I was a little leery about doing that, as the fabric is fragile.  Plus, I’m thinking those knots are part of what makes the quilt special to him.  After all, it isn’t pieced (as in, quilt blocks).

When I first took a look at it, I thought it was made up of a lot of squares – that’s how nice and straight the pleats are between the yarn knots.  If I removed them and smoothed it out, it would destroy that effect.  I decided that putting on the teal binding was enough of a change for this old quilt.  I would also repair what tears I could (pronounced ‘tares’, not ‘tiers’).

In chatting with one of my blind friends a few days ago, she mentioned how she sometimes did not know exactly what to say to someone, especially if he or she happens to be a quiet or timid person.  “It’s that problem of not being able to read their expression,” she explained.  “I don’t want to go blithering on like an idiot, not knowing how I am affecting them!”

Her remarks reminded me of when our blind friend Rita first came to town, and then Penny, not too long later, in 1969 or 1970.  They were in their early 20s.  I was 9. 

My mother told me, “Those girls will not know what you’re thinking; you have to say it out loud!” 

Another time, she was talking with me about a girl with whom I attended school.  The girl was unable to walk normally; I think she had multiple sclerosis.

Mama said, “Treat people such as these friends like they’re normal, because their brains work fine, just like yours!  Be ready to help, but don’t be pushy.  And never let them bump into something, if you can help it!”

Mama taught me so much more than I gave her credit for, back then.  She was more loving and compassionate than I ever knew, until my own children came along.  And then I knew.

Penny then told me a story about my father than I had not heard before:

One time my father was preaching from the book of Ezekiel.  After the service, Rita was telling him how grateful she was that he was preaching from this book, for she did not understand it, so she didn’t read it.

Daddy said:  “RITA!!!!!!!  What are you going to say when you get to heaven and you meet Ezekiel and he says, ‘Why didn’t you read my book?!’”

And of course everyone was laughing.

Here’s Rita playing chess with Stephen Wright in front of our school back on July 4, 1995.  Stephen Wright is now our school principal.  We can’t see the face of the little girl behind the glass door, but I know it’s Lydia, because that’s the dress I made for her that year.  She had just turned four.

Perhaps you will recall that I got an 11” x 14” digital picture frame for Loren back when he was still at home, and then took it to Prairie Meadows soon after he moved in – and it got lost in the staff office for months.  Everyone is so nice there, and I know that they work hard, and they treat the residents so good – and I didn’t want to cause troubles that might affect how they treat Loren...  So my method was to just politely ask everyone I bumped into when I was there if they might know where that frame might be, and to send emails at least once a week to everyone for whom I had an email address, politely requesting assistance in locating that frame --- and they finally got themselves in gear and did a thorough search, and found it.  

It was a case of ‘the widow and the unjust judge’ that Luke writes about in chapter 18:

“There was in a city a judge, which feared not God, neither regarded man:  And there was a widow in that city; and she came unto him, saying, Avenge me of mine adversary.  And he would not for a while: but afterward he said within himself, Though I fear not God, nor regard man; Yet because this widow troubleth me, I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me.”

That’s what I did:  I troubled them continually, until I ‘wearied’ them into finding that frame.

Now the frame is on one of Loren’s dressers, and it’s on every time I go in his room.  See it in this picture?

Loren really likes it.  I can’t find the remote, though; it’s probably in the nurses’ station, as Loren wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to use it.  Trouble is, one needs the remote to change to different folders, or to look up specific photos. 

I wondered aloud a week ago if the frame was drawing from all folders, or only one (I’ve never been certain what that frame does, as I’ve never had the chance to watch it long enough – and it did not come with instructions in English).

Loren assured me with a great deal of certainty that it draws from ALL the folders.  (He knows practically nothing about computerized devices.)

Loren’s draws directly from the card; it has no internal memory.   And on that card (I think it’s a 32GB; or maybe 64?) I have multiple folders full of photos.  The frame was supposed to be able to handle a terabyte of photos.  It cannot.  (I think people just write that in the description, imagining that no one will ever put it to the test.  I will!)  Furthermore, I could not put all the pictures in one folder, to make it easier for others to use; I had to divide them up into folders.  And now, as previously mentioned, I have not been able to tell if it’s drawing from all folders, or just from one folder.  I think it’s still going randomly, as I had originally set it to do.  There’s a total of somewhere around 50,000 pictures on the card.  

I need to ask about that remote.

Speaking of photos, here’s an old one that just scrolled through on my screensaver:  Bobby, on the left, with his brothers Matthew (on the right) and Jonathan (center).

When Bobby was a wee toddler, he called his grandma and grandpa ‘Munga’ and ‘Bugga’.  😅  Munga and Bugga were not displeased with their cute little grandson’s interpretation of their ‘names’.  The photo was taken by Bugga himself.

I sent a text to John that afternoon, along with a couple of pictures:  “Your quilt is done, and will be in the middle seat behind the driver’s seat of our Mercedes tonight at church.”

He immediately responded, in his typical text abbreviations:  “Tx! How much do i owe u?”

“Since I haven’t been able to do much of anything for you or Bethany,” I told him, “I’m only going to ask the price of the fabric:  $5.  I’d like the work, which wasn’t all that difficult, to just be a gift.  Besides, you gave us meat for Christmas, and we didn’t give you anything in return!”

“U r quite kind. May God bles u,” he answered.

After church that evening, we went back out to our vehicle – and found a very large beef roast, and a $10 bill.

I texted John.  “Hey, this isn’t what I asked for!” I protested.  “Twice the $$$$$... more meat... And now we’re right back where we started: in arrears!”

His answer arrived the next day:  “4getabout it.”

You just can’t ‘get even’ with some people.

Then he added, “Can any of ur machins sew duck type matrl.?”

I wrote, “Well, thank you.  The meat will soon be going into the oven with potatoes and carrots and onions, baking on slow until suppertime.  As for duck... are the feathers included?”

“It’s an ovr coat that tore & this guy wants it patchd,” he explained.  “Do u want his numbr?”

He must’ve bragged me up as a good ‘repair person’ where he works!

“Ummmm... not really,” said I.  “I don’t do patching/repairing clothes anymore, unless, oh, say, Larry or one of the sons or sons-in-law are standing at my quilting room door weeping copious rivers of tears, and then I might – MIGHT! – take pity on them.  I’m pretty well swamped with quilting.  I have a friend’s quilt to do right now, and then I have eighteen (18!) more quilts to do for the grandchildren (including the one who’s on the way).  I was only able to get 11 done last year, on account of customer quilting from January through June.  So I have told all my customers, ‘No more quilts until the grandchildren’s quilts are done!’  I need me one of Calvin’s (of Calvin & Hobbs fame) cloning machines.”

He replied with his usual good outlook on things, “I Copy that. Tx. Wut a blesng 2 b abl 2 do it & G.kids 2 do it 4.”

I very much agree with him.

Wednesday evening, another friend, Ann, brought me a queen-sized quilt to quilt for her.  It’s for her daughter Kathleen, who will be 18 on Valentine’s Day.  Our granddaughter Emma, who will be 18 on February 8, and Kathleen are best friends.  When Emma was little, she pronounced Kathleen’s name, with great care and precision, “Kath-uh-LEEN.”

Emma has eight siblings... and so does Kathleen.  Emma is the oldest girl in her family, and Kathleen is the oldest girl in hers.  Emma has one older brother; Kathleen has two.  Emma has one sister; Kathleen has two.  Emma has long, dark-brown hair.  Kathleen has long, pale-blond hair.

Our text at our Wednesday night service was II Corinthians 1.  Robert also read us Charles Spurgeon’s sermon on this chapter, which was preached June 15, 1882.  It’s no small wonder Spurgeon was called “The Prince of Preachers.” 

I particularly like this sermon of Spurgeon’s, because he speaks of the very best way of lifting one’s spirits when one is going through trials and difficulties:  it’s through praise.  Praise of and to God.  I like it, because this has always been my comfort in any trial:  praise.  When things are very sad, I head straight for my piano.  The music and the wonderful old hymns of praise are so much of a comfort to me.

I learned this from my father – not so much because he said it, but because this is exactly what he did:  he sang.  He prayed.  He preached.  He was a joyful person, even when going through trials.

If you would like to read Spurgeon’s sermon, it’s here:  Comforted and Comforting

At a quarter ’til midnight, a nurse from Prairie Meadows called and told me that Loren was sick with flu-like symptoms, including vomiting.  They were giving him medicine for it, and would let me know how he was doing the next day, or sooner if necessary.  They always call immediately, if anything like this happens.  I appreciate that.

I think I’d better get myself in gear and put together that old wooden-covered album my mother started when Loren was a baby.  The black photo-grade paper I got from Hobby Lobby is cut to the right size, holes punched, and ever’thing.  But I need to print a bunch more pictures to fill it.

Loren usually seems healthy, but at his age (85), and with dementia, getting sick can be a lot more serious than expected.

Thursday, the first order of business was to write directly to the Bernina company and tell them of the problem with my machine skipping stitches after having it ‘serviced’.  I even dutifully relayed the sorta-almost-snotty note I got from the quilt shop last week.

I soon received a ‘Ticket No.’ and a form letter from them, but that’s all, so far.  The form letter contained a few suggestions that might be of help – such as contacting my nearest dealer.  🙄  They have a reputation for doing the right thing by their customers, though.

That done, I got all prepared to start quilting – and discovered I didn’t have the thread I needed. 

There is no place in Columbus that sells thread for longarm machines – or if they do, they have only two or three spools on hand in only one or two colors at any given time.

So off I went to Nebraska Quilt Company in Fremont to get some thread.  Yes, the very place I took my Bernina for servicing.

Can you see the hawk in the tree in the above photo?

On the way to Fremont, a nurse from Prairie Meadows called to tell me that Loren seemed to be just fine that day.

Arriving at the quilt shop, I brazenly marched in the door as if nothing had happened, found the thread I needed, cheerfully paid for it, and sauntered back out. 

See, this is why I try hard not to burn my bridges behind me!  (Besides, the nice ladies who helped me find and pay for the thread had nothing to do with the problem.)

This picture was taken as I approached Columbus from the east.  That’s the corn plant putting all that steam into the air.

Or, more accurately, it’s CO2, and probably organic compounds, nitrogen oxides, and particulate matter, too.

By the time I turned north on Old Highway 81 toward our house, some 20 minutes later, the sun was approaching the horizon.

I loaded my friend’s quilt on the frame, printed out the pantograph, and affixed it to the quilt table.  I was ready to begin quilting.

Friday, I spent a good part of the day quilting. 

That afternoon, a friend sent me a picture of her young granddaughters eating cotton candy.

That reminded me (everything always reminds me of something) of the time a friend and I bought some cotton candy at a little neighborhood shop, then proceeded on with our bike ride.  The main thing I remember about the episode was the extreme stickiness of my handlebars, which bothered me so greatly, I aborted the bike ride, went home, washed my hands, and then thoroughly scrubbed and polished my entire bike.  My friend did the same – mostly just to keep me company. 

Forks!  Forks are the way to go, with cotton candy.  Eat it like puh-squetti.

I stopped with the quilting in order to wrap Oliver’s birthday present and sign a card.  While I was at it, I wrapped Willie’s present and signed his card, too.  His birthday is the 8^th.  I like to wrap gifts in calendar pages.  Oliver’s was wrapped in mooses.  Meese.  Moosi?  With a fox in the snow on one side.  He loves foxes, and spotted it the moment we handed him the gift.  “Fox!” he exclaimed, beaming. 

Willie’s is wrapped in tigers and wolves.

One time when Malinda, Jeremy and Lydia’s little girl, was wee little, she started to unwrap her present, which I’d covered with pages of kittens.  She started to pull on a corner, it started to tear, and she let go and held up both hands, and said, “Mama hep-hep!”  (help)  She didn’t want to destroy the pretty paper.  😊

Andrew and Hester don’t just serve birthday cake; they serve pizza, lettuce salad, a variety of fruit, cookies, vegetables and dip, cupcakes with cherries in the middle, and some kind of yummy sparkling lemonade (which is better drunk before the cupcake, rather than after).

Here’s Violet showing Oliver what a delightful racket one can make by wing-wanging a whole cluster of balloons up and down.  Oliver was right properly impressed.

Oliver found Larry, and held up his arms.  Larry scooped him up.  Oliver pointed at the vegetable tray. 

“Do you want a carrot?” asked Larry, handing him one.

Oliver took it, then gave it back, and pointed again at the vegetable tray.  “Dips?” he requested.

Larry had forgotten the ‘dips’!

He dipped it, handed it back.  Oliver took it carefully, grinned at his grandpa, and ate it.

Here’s Oliver playing with the wooden car ramp set we gave him.  

Soon Keira was helping him and showing him how it works.

A little later, I asked Oliver, “Where are all your cars?”

He pointed at the little garages at the base of the ramps and answered, “Behind garage doors!”  Then, indicating each door in turn, he said, “Green, yellow, red.”  And he was exactly right. 

He’s an altogether sweet and fun little boy.

Hester claims that it is largely due to Keira that Oliver knows colors, numbers, and gazillions of words, which he strings together in long, complex sentences.  It’s true, older siblings teach younger ones a lot; but I don’t think Hester realizes how she constantly talks to and teaches her children, she does it so naturally and easily.  Her sisters are the same.  

Jeremy and Lydia and their family, Kurt and Victoria and their family, Caleb and Maria and Eva, and Andrew’s brother-in-law and sister and their little boys were there.

I was taking pictures of Andrew’s sister Amber with baby Jack, who’s 6 weeks old, when along came older brother Jaime.  The very instant I pressed the shutter button, Jaime blew his party whistle, ka-whacked his mother in the forehead – and baby Jack beamed, as if he was totally delighted with this turn of events.

Amber blinked and dodged, and Jaime looked down at his party whistle, amazed.  He hadn’t known it did that.  And baby Jack went back to looking like he needed another nickel in his ride.  (His tummy was beginning to take note of a small empty spot.)

But isn’t it sweet and dear how babies love their older siblings?  You can just see that, all over the baby’s cute little face.

Eva, Caleb and Maria’s little girl, can often be found in the toy room, which is also Andrew’s office, playing with the trains, whether anyone else is in there playing with her or not.  (Sidenote:  the fact that Andrew prefers to have his desk and bookcases in the room with the majority of his children’s toys, and where they often play throughout the day, gives you a little glimpse of what kind of a person he is.)

Jacob, 14, put together one of Oliver toys for him, making him a hero in Oliver’s eyes.

Saturday morning, I cut my hair.  Now instead of taking 15 minutes to blow-dry and curl my hair, it only takes 5 or 10 minutes.

I didn’t go see Loren that day.  Right about the time I was starting to gather up my things and head for the car, I looked out the window and discovered that there was a very dense fog out there.  I couldn’t even see the neighbors’ fence.  A few minutes later, it began raining.

So I stayed home and instead worked on my friend’s quilt.  It’s an intense pantograph called ‘Bouquet’, and just one pass with the quilting machine (11” x 103”) makes neck, shoulders, hands, hips, and knees glad when it’s time to pause and roll the quilt forward on the frame.  The 11” passes interlock with each other, so it isn’t a full 11 inches completed with each pass.

The check arrived from the company that holds the warranty for the washing machine, was duly deposited in our account, and I then paid the new machine off in full.

I sent Hester this picture of herself at age 9. 

She wrote back, “Keira always likes to see the pics of me as a kid.  She always has lots of questions about what I was doing and why.  😆”

The local squirrel population was entertaining themselves by thundering wildly through the eaves that afternoon, an unwanted distraction when I was trying to quilt smoothly.

I finally remembered to use a stopwatch on my computer to time one of the rows of quilting.  The row took 33 minutes, 33 seconds, and 6 milliseconds, and I am not a slow quilter.  I go fast enough that I can whistle the ‘Warning!  Too fast!  You are in imminent danger of breaking the sonic sound barrier!” chime that my longarm makes fairly often as I’m a-quilting along.  😂

By the time I complete one pass, I have to take a minute or two to wiggle my hands and neck, and make sure I’m still in good working order.

I’m pleased with how it looks, and I’m trying to quilt with confidence — but I keep remembering, There’s pink thread on that white backing!  Make curves smoothly... check tension often...

A friend mentioned that they were planning to install a tub rail for her mother, who was a bit unsteady when getting out of the tub.

We once gave a nice, sturdy tub rail/handle/thingy to Lawrence.  At least, Menards said it was nice and sturdy.

It detached itself from the wall once when Lawrence was getting out of the tub.  😧

(He was not hurt.)

After that, we got him a ‘step-in’ tub, one of those tall squarish things that a person can sit in.

Norma once opened the door on the tub while Lawrence was in it, filling it up.  It was at least half full at the time.  Afterwards, it was...  not.  😲😯😮😦🫨

I found a few more pictures to send to Hester, since Keira likes to see them.  Here she is ready to come home from the hospital.  She was one day old.  She weighed 5 lbs., 2 oz., when she was born June 8, 1989.  I used a doll pattern to make that dress.

And here she is fishing at Calamus Reservoir.  (Big Foot apparently left his shoes on the shore.)

Below are Lydia, Caleb, Victoria, and Hester.

Below is Ann, for whom I am doing the quilting, back in 1981, wearing a little dress I made her for Easter that year.  

I made dresses for her four sisters, too:  Christine (my late nephew David’s wife), Rebecca, Mary (Maria’s mother), and Esther (Keith’s ex-wife).  The dresses were of the same fabric, only in different colors and different patterns.  I sewed suits, shirts, and even little bowties for her brothers, Ralph and Charles (Susan’s husband). 

Well, actually, those ties weren’t so little.  In 1981, the style was big hair, big sleeves – and big bowties.  Those little boys could’ve rested their chins on the knots of those ties and slept through Sunrise Service, and no one would’ve ever been the wiser.

Supper that evening was beef roast, potatoes, carrots, and onions.  Mmmm, it was good.

At 10:00 that night, I rolled the quilt forward to the next row, basted and clamped the sides, dropped the needle in the correct spot – and shut everything down for the night.  I don’t know exactly how much is done or how much is left, but I’d guess it’s about ¾ done.

It was foggy again Sunday morning, but not as dense as it was Saturday.  I could still see Rte. 22, a quarter of a mile to the south.

This is a broad-winged hawk.  

Canada geese have been filling the sky, heading from the cornfields where they’ve been eating back to the lakes and rivers where they spend the night.

I canceled my appointment with the eye doctor that was set for Feb. 14, and reset it for Mar. 13.  My eyes have been troublesome, and a treatment next week would be nice; but we can’t afford for me to have it done four times a year.  It will have to be only three times a year.

We had sliced roast beef and mozzarella cheese on toast last night after church last night.  Then Larry sliced the rest of that big roast, sealed it in bags, and put it in the freezer.  Now we’ll only have to warm it up when we want roast beef for supper.  I’ll betcha he put way too big of helpings in each bag, whataya bet?

Every now and then, someone tucks pages behind our hymnbooks with songs – or, in this case, words – that are not in our hymnals.  Yesterday we sang all seven verses of Amazing Grace.  I’ll add it at the end of this letter.

This morning I put sheets and blankets in the NEW! washing machine, and when those were done, I washed the rest of the clothes.  I intended to do the bedding Saturday, but I made the bed before I remembered, and I wasn’t about to unmake it. 

It’s really foggy again today.  I have never seen it foggy like this, day after day.  I like fog; it makes everything mysterious.  But I don’t like to drive in it.

And suddenly, a little after 3:00 p.m., just like that, the sky was blue as blue can be.  At first, there were little puffs of clouds in the sky; then it was totally cloudless.  I could see all the way to Columbus.  We haven’t been able to do that for over a week.

We have been issued flood watches and warnings for several area rivers, as the last few days of warmer temperatures have caused ice to break up and jam here and there.  The Loup River, a mile to our south, is flooding. 

Ice jams can occur anytime there has been cold enough weather to cause a buildup of thick ice – and then high enough temperatures to break the ice up and make it flow faster than the river channels can handle.  The heavy snows last month – and its consequential melting – have added to the river flows.

This is what happened – along with heavy rains for several days – in mid-March of 2019 when our whole state and many surrounding states had the worst floods we’ve ever seen in this area.

With the ice melting, even experienced ice fishermen can find themselves in sudden trouble.  These fishermen checked the ice on Willow Lake; it was 13” thick.  But...  they moved to another spot 50 feet away, and the ice broke.  They had to abandon their UTV, their gear, and the shack to the lake.  Thankfully, all parties involved are alive and well.

Wow, look at Jackie the bald eagle on her nest in Big Bear Valley, California, tonight.  Underneath her, three eggs are being kept at exactly 105°, think of that.

Bedtime!  Tomorrow I hope to finish my friend’s quilt.

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