Journal: ♫ ♪ I Serve A Risen Savior! ♪ ♫

 

Very early last Tuesday, in the wee hours of the morning, I watched on my computer as the weather in Omaha deteriorated.  There was a layer of ice under the snow that was coming down, and a 45-mph wind was blowing up a gale.  And Kurt and Victoria, with Willie and baby Arnie, too (as he’s an extension of Victoria, as she puts it), were due at the Boys’ Town Research Hospital at 5:30 a.m.  They had traveled to Omaha late Monday afternoon and checked into a motel near the hospital, as that would be a lot easier than awakening babies in the middle of the night to drive all the way there in the early morning hours.  Good thing they did, as the roads between Columbus and Omaha got quite bad for a while.

Road crews and linemen were all been called in, as it got too dangerous for them to work in that weather.  They would head out again early Tuesday morning, but not early enough to pave the way for Kurt and Victoria.

Fortunately, their motel was close to the hospital.  The roads were slippery, but their vehicle is all-wheel-drive, and they got to the hospital with no trouble.  As you’ll recall from last week’s letter, Willie was going to have surgery for a tethered spinal cord.

Shortly after 8:30 a.m., Victoria texted, “Surgery is done, and everything went really well.  Willie is in recovery now.”

We all breathed a sigh of relief.  We knew the doctors are skilled, and they have done this surgery many times – including on patients in much worse condition than Willie is.  But we also know that any type of spinal surgery has its risks.

She sent a picture of Willie waking up in the recovery room, giving a small smile for the camera, and then later another of him sleeping soundly in his room, arms over his head.

By Wednesday he was doing well enough that they were told they could go home, if they could get him to walk.  The nurses brought him a little shopping cart, and he was then willing to give walking a try, while holding the handle of the cart.  So Kurt and Victoria packed their things and came home. 

Willie was happy to be back in his own environment.  He is doing well, and will start physical therapy in a couple of weeks.

Tuesday, relieved to know Willie was all right, I cleaned bathroom and kitchen, and then quilted the rest of the day. 

Speaking of cleaning... CLR cleaned the old countertop in this kitchen when nothing else had worked.  However, the CLR jug did not stand up to me using it to smack a spider.  The bottom of the jug cracked, it started leaking, and the spider, saved by the concave bottom of the jug, escaped.

I hastily put the jug upside down in a bowl, and then mopped the floor.  The CLR cleaned the floor quite nicely.  Somewhere behind the refrigerator, however, there lurks an ugly, giggling spider.  🕷😧

Victoria sent a funny audio clip of Willie saying ‘hi’ “in many and various ways,” as Victoria put it.

It reminded me of my late nephew David practicing his ‘no-nos’ in front of the mirror when he was about two, the same age as Willie.

He’d say it very sweetly... then in a low-pitched, grumbly voice... then all in a huge upheaval... then with a question mark – each time, with the appropriate face to go with it.  Too bad they didn’t have a video camera back then!

When I quit quilting that night, there were one and a half rows to go on the Gone Fishin’ quilt. 

This is the Elkhorn River.  No matter which route I take to Omaha, I will cross the Elkhorn somewhere.  The deepest the Elkhorn gets when it’s not flooding is about 7 feet where it joins the Platte.  The river flows for approximately 290 miles and joins the Platte River west of Gretna, Nebraska.  The location of this photo is approximately 30 miles from its confluence with the Platte, so I’d estimate its depth here at 5-6 feet.

When I posted this bright sunset picture, someone commented, “I’ll bet it was hot the next day.”

“Only if you consider the low 30s to be hot!  😄” I responded.

I have always enjoyed the ‘choosing colors and fabrics’ stage of quilt-making.  I enjoyed it when I made clothing, too.  This Gone Fishin’ quilt is the first time I’ve ever used a layer cake (a stack of 42 pieces of 10” x 10” fabric) – and, while the fabrics are, for the most part, none that I would have taken a second look at, I’m really pleased with how it looks.  Whoever put the pieces together did an excellent job.  Indeed, I think two of the colors I added when I ran out of fabric from the layer cake stick out like sore thumbs.  Larry’s shirt fabric blended right in, though.  In the photo above, the lighter blue on the right was not from the layer cake.  In the photo to the left the brighter blue was the fabric I added.  After the blocks were together, those added blues almost seemed to clash with the other colors.  But it was the best I could do without buying more fabric.  And now that the quilt is done, it looks all right.

When I quit quilting in order to head to our midweek church service, there was half a row left.  I had thought to finish it after I got home, but instead I set up the new tablet that Larry got me and ordered a nifty >bright red!< BRAECNstock case for it.

Thursday before choosing the clothes I would wear, I took a look at my weather app. 

Wow, it was 50° – and the feel-like temperature was 63°!  I chose short sleeves.

I posted pictures of the Gone Fishin’ quilt, and a friend commented, “I wish I had that knack of knowing how to put just the right quilting into an area.  Beautiful!”

“Thanks,” I replied, “but I’m every bit as surprised as you are, if ‘just the right thing’ lands in an area.  😂

“Sometimes I think, I’m going to put a leaf in this spot, and then when I grab the handles and start, it turns into a circle with an outline around it.  I’m left holding the handles and flapping in the breeze.”

I added this animation of Buster Keaton from an old silent film to better depict what transpires.  🤣

After spending the majority of the day quilting, I finished quilting the Gone Fishin’ quilt, and also a couple of pillow tops.  Here is the backing, and below are the pillow tops.

I asked Lydia, “Shall I make two pillows, using other fabric for the backs, or shall I make just one pillow, using these pillow tops for front and back?”

She replied, “I think two pillows would be nice.  Seems a shame to hide one of them. 😅”

So... two pillows it is.

I have strange dreams, and I dream regularly.  I awaken with a vague notion of the dream, but usually the harder I try to remember it, the quicker it fades into a mist.

I have sometimes dreamed there was a baby in the house again – one of the ‘old’ kids had reverted back to babyhood.  Sometimes a baby was crying, and I couldn’t find him or her to save my life!  I would eventually (or maybe it was ‘soon’; who knows) awaken to discover cats on the back deck loudly calling each other bad names.

Once, some years ago, I dreamed I finally found the crying baby atop our tallest dresser, where I couldn’t even reach him.  Boy oh boy, was I ever mad at whoever put that baby up there.  In fact, come to think of it, I’m still irritable about it.  If I ever find out who did that, oooo, will I ever give him a tongue-lashing.  

It seems that I used to wake up better remembering dreams than I do these days.  I wonder why that is?  Probably because I dream and/or awaken at different stages of sleep than I used to.

I texted Lydia, “Is your family feeling better?”  They’ve had various forms of the flu for the last two or three weeks, maybe longer.

“Yes, mostly,” she replied.  “Just squeamish a bit.”

That’s just begging a good answer, don’t you think? 

“I was squeamish this morning,” I told her.  “But only momentarily, and only because suddenly in the middle of my shower I spotted a spider right near my feet.  However, he was already upside down, so I dispatched of him without further squeam.”

Lydia answered with the expected laughing emoji.

I posted pictures of Ian’s quilt on Facebook.  Why do I feel irked when some hoity-toity soul soon says (and I can just hear her tone), “I sure hope the quilt lasts long enough that he gets old enough to appreciate it.”  

Makes me want to box her ears.  I want to say (an audio clip would be good, so I could out-hoity-toity her), “I have obviously raised my grandchildren a whole lot better than you have raised yours.”

Instead, I responded, “Ian is a sweetie.  He’s loving and sentimental – plus, he’s artistic and crafty with his hands, just like his Mama and Daddy are.  He’ll love the quilt, just like his little sister Malinda loves hers.”

I wonder if she’ll get the slightest inkling that her remark peeved me?

Even little Oliver, who’s 2, is sentimental about the quilt I made him.  He calls it ‘my Grandma blankie’.

See, I value people over quilts and ‘things’.  So if some fabulous quilt I make for someone gets jelly on it, I don’t fall apart at the hinges.  Or seams, as it were.  We just spot-clean or wash it as seems best, and give said jellier a hug.

You know, in addition to making quilts for the grandchildren to enjoy, I think about what their parents would like, too.  When the little ones’ parents are all delighted with a quilt, that’s as much of a satisfaction to me as when the child is pleased with it.

Friday evening, Hester dropped off a soft, pretty, navy cardigan and a pair of Toms canvas shoes like these:  

They had been to some secondhand stores in Norfolk, and, as usual, she had found some lovely things that are either brand new or mighty close to new.

Also as usual, she won’t let me pay for these things.  Guess I’ll just have to have some groceries delivered to their house!

One of these days, when I start working on quilts for the older boys, I’m planning to go to various secondhand stores and look for 100% cotton men’s shirts, maybe in small plaids, to add to the scenic panels I have.

And then when the quilts for the grandkids are done, I want to look for shirts and things in 100% silk, and make a silk quilt.  I’ve seen some really gorgeous quilts in silk, but buying silk by the yard at fabric stores is $$$$$$$$$$$$.  Of course, the bigger the shirts, the more fabric you get for the money.  😉

One time years ago I went to the Goodwill for shirts for the boys and Larry for the vacation we were about to go on, and for school.  I found 4 or 5 shirts for each, which pretty much filled my cart.  I happily headed for the checkout stand — and a lady (older than me, about 50-55 or so) on the other side of the stand stared at my cart, then put her top teeth on her bottom lip and shook her head at me in a ‘naughty, naughty’ gesture.

The lady who was checking me out saw that, and said to me a loud voice, “It’s still America, last I knew; you can buy whatever you want.”

I told this story to Hester, and she said, “🤔 She must’ve not had enough to do that day.”

“Or she had bunions,” I added.  😄

With the judgmental lady thus diagnosed, I went back to binding Ian’s quilt.  Someone asked me how much time I had spent on this quilt.  I have not kept track of the exact number of hours, so this is only a rough guess:  about 50 hours designing, cutting, and piecing, and about 50 hours quilting.  That estimate might be considerably low.

My Bernina is sewing perfectly, and I have been sewing many things with varying thicknesses.  It has not skipped stitches once.  However, that evening when I started to change spools of thread, I discovered that the horizontal spool holder is cracked at the base, on the right side where it attaches to the machine.  It seems to have been glued, but it’s about to fall apart.  This was most definitely not cracked and repaired before it was worked on at Nebraska Quilt Company!

I sent them an email.  I’m never rude, but I’m going to get a reputation as a ‘problem customer’!  But that’s nothing.  They are getting a reputation in my head as a problem dealer and tech! 

Siggghhhh...

That night I finished the binding on the Gone Fishin’ quilt.  I put binding on entirely by machine.  Next, I cut the pieces for the pillow backs, and then decided that was enough for the day.

A quilting friend asked, “What seam allowance do you sew and are you using 2.5” strips for the binding?”

“Oooo, quilters everywhere will turn on their strobe lights and give me tickets, when they learn how I put on binding!” I told her.  “I use only one thickness of fabric, cut it 1 ½” wide, and have ¼” seam allowances, front and back.  It’s easier to be precise, with one thickness instead of two.  And even after multiple decades of making quilts, none of them have gone up in smoke on account of non-doubled bindings!  The reasons I started doing this are:  1) I didn’t know better; but mainly because 2) we didn’t have many pennies to spare, and I wasn’t about to waste fabric by doubling it.  Eventually, I learned how one is ‘supposed’ to make binding, and did it – and didn’t like it a bit.  Too thick, not nearly as neat at the corners, the seams were bulky even though I mitered them... so I went back to 1 ½”, one-thickness bindings.  Even the cats were happier.”

I’ve been watching a live stream of an eagle nest near Decorah, Iowa.  A little over a week ago, the eggs hatched; there are now two chicks in the nest.  Here’s a screenshot I captured. 

Now, you might think this eaglet is cute, and I guess he is; but he’s also a horrendous little brat, seemingly set on murdering his younger sibling.  The younger one was not even completely out of his shell before the older one took to nailing him with that big beak of his.  This especially happens when a parent arrives to feed them.  The younger chick has learned to hit the deck, faceplanting straight into the floor of the nest, and to stay there until the older one has had his fill.  (In fact, that fuzz directly in front of and below this chick is his sibling’s head.)  The younger one then comes up gingerly, wondering if he dares squeak for food yet.  He is getting fed, but I don’t think he’s getting as much as the bigger, more aggressive eaglet. 

And if you think, like some on the website’s chat, Awwww, they’re just being sweet little birdies, establishing their pecking order; nobody’s really getting hurt; well, then, you should take a little jaunt to YouTube and run a search for – no, never mind.  I just discovered several horror shows that I would’ve rather not seen. 

What the Apostle Paul wrote is true:  “For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.”

Saturday, it was finally nice out, so I swept the deck thoroughly and took pictures of the Gone Fishin’ quilt.  The colors are always more accurate in natural lighting.  It took a lot of sweeping to get the sunflower seed and nyjer seed husks off the deck, though.  (The bird feeders hang at one side of the deck.)

Then I headed to Omaha to visit Loren.  As I was driving east of Richland, about 20 miles to our east, a huge whirlwind came barreling across the highway, and I drove right into it!  There was nothing else to do, since there was traffic all around, and the whirlwind didn’t show up until it was too late for me to avoid it.  It was full of cornstalks and weeds and dirt, swirling like a small tornado.  It really wobbled the Mercedes back and forth, and it’s a big, heavy SUV.

I was all by myself in the vehicle, but I said, “Wow!” right out loud to...  somebody.  😂

I found Loren by himself in the far lounge with the TV, pool table, and popcorn machine.  I’m always glad when he’s in that room; it’s easier to visit when there aren’t scores of other people all around, and his room is usually unbearably hot.  The whole place is generally too hot, but his room is often like a blast furnace.

I had taken Ian’s quilt with me to show Loren; he likes to see what I’m working on.  He appreciates all the work that goes into a quilt, partly because his late wife Janice used to quilt and sew and crochet and do all kinds of crafts.  He was always proud of all the things she made.

He exclaimed over the quilt, and wanted to know how much thread it took to quilt it as I have done.

When it was time for him to eat dinner, we walked down the hallway to his room, where I put the magazines and newspaper on his nightstand.  We then continued on down the hall – and he was surprised, as usual, to find the ‘restaurant’ so close to his ‘cabin’.

Before leaving Omaha, I stopped at the big Hobby Lobby in the northwest part of the city to get piping for the two pillows for Ian, and I also got a soft pink vase with a fluffy, cream-colored, yarn ‘feather’ attached to it to add to the birthday gifts I had for Maria.

There were tiny little calves in many of the pastures I drove by.  Some of them were brand-spankin’ new, still wobbly on their little legs.

I dropped off Maria’s present when I got back to Columbus.  Caleb and Maria live on the east side of town.  No one was home; they were in Omaha.  Only their big dog Marley greeted me.  They have underground fencing, and Marley wears a collar that keeps him corralled.  He stood at the side of the house barking.  When I said, “Hi, Marley!” his ears went up, down, up, down, and question marks floated above his head.  How does she know my name?!  😄

In addition to the pink vase, we gave Maria a Lilla Rose hair clip and a set of Dionis hand creams and lip balms.  Dionis makes their products from goat milk.  The first hand cream and lip balm we got was from the railroad museum in Hill City, South Dakota.  We like it so much, I’ve gotten some for several of the girls. 

It was around 7:00 p.m. when I got home.  As I walked into the house, I saw that there are green shoots coming up through the old growth in the flowerbeds.  I leave old growth through the winter to help protect the plants from the subzero temperatures, and also because the birds love all the seeds.  If it will just warm up a bit, I’ll get outside and start doing some gardening!

I found another one of ‘those’ comments under the quilt pictures I had posted:  “Beautiful!  I hope it will be treated with the same reverence that you made it,” wrote the commentor.

Bah.  I did not make the quilt with ‘reverence’.  I just did my best to make a special and pretty quilt, that’s all.  But I tried to be nice, and answered, “Thank you!  Ian is a sentimental little sweetheart.  He will love his quilt, and that’s all that matters.  His Mama will help him take care of it.”

Another one, trying to be a little more tactful, asked, “Are you hoping he hangs it on his bedroom wall as a piece of treasured artwork or hoping he sleeps cuddled in it every night?  I often wonder what quilters hope for when they sew something so intricate and beautiful.”

“I hope for nothing more than that he knows I made it for him because I love him so much,” I responded.  “He can do whatever he likes with it.”  I added a heart emoji to camouflage my annoyance.  Reckon that works?

Someone mentioned the cross-stitched boys on this quilt, calling them “Fisherman Fred”.  I looked it up – and whataya know, she was right!  I’m going to change the name of this quilt, maybe to “Fisherman Fred Goes Canoein’”.

Here’s a picture I took in Lincoln.  The people who live here sell antiques and handmade items, and have a booth at a local antique mall.  Look at the sign next to Bigfoot:  BIGFOOT’S FOR SALE

Do teachers no longer teach students the difference between possessive and plural?  

One time when Joseph was in kindergarten (public school, back before we had our church school), the teacher’s aide sent a note home with him:  “Please send round siccors for Joesph.”

She meant, round-tip scissors.  (And she misspelled Joseph’s name.)  She thought the slightly pointed ones he was using were too sharp for him.

He was unimpressed with the ‘baby scissors’, as he called them, that I rummaged up for him.  “They bend the paper, instead of cutting it!” he said.

So as soon as I could, I got him some nice little Fiskars.  They had the requisite round tips, but they were sharp enough to cut construction paper nicely.  Plus, they had blue handles with turquoise inserts!  So Joseph was happy again.

But we called scissors ‘siccors’ for a looong time after that.  Still do, now and then – and that happened 34 years ago.  😄

We had our Easter Sunrise Service yesterday morning at 7:00 a.m.  After we sang several beautiful Easter hymns and Robert read some Scriptures from the story of Jesus’ resurrection, we went to the Fellowship Hall for breakfast.  We sat across the table from Jeremy and Lydia and their younger three children.  Their oldest, Jacob, was helping serve tables.  Kurt and Victoria and their children were at the end of the table.

Our main church service was at 11:00 a.m., with more hymns and a sermon.  I love the majestic, lively Easter hymns.  We enjoyed listening to the big group of horns in one of the morning services, and the strings in the evening.  It was so beautiful.  A lot of time and effort goes into our church music.

Our evening service was at 5:30 p.m., and we had a luncheon afterwards.  This time, we sat next to Bobby and Hannah, and across the table from Teddy and Amy and the younger children.  The ones over the age of 13 were helping serve tables.

After the luncheon, I walked with Willie down the hallway from the Fellowship Hall to the sanctuary.  He was having some difficulty with tripping, maybe because of his cute little boots, and probably because he was tired from a long day. 

After a bit, I asked him, “Do you want Grandma to carry you?” and he beamed and nodded vigorously. 

So with more fortitude than vigor, I hoisted him up, and we continued on our way.  Kurt, worrying about me, asked Willie a couple of times if he wanted Kurt to carry him, but though Willie smiled at his Daddy, he shook his head and wrapped his little arm tighter around my neck.  I just love that little boy.  You know I love all my grandchildren, but Willie tugs on my heartstrings.

Well, several of them do, especially if they are sick, or if they get hurt.  You know what I mean.

By the time we got to the sanctuary, my back was protesting, so I told Willie, “I have to give you back to your Daddy now!  You’re too, too big for Grandma!” 

So he went willingly.  He was not prepared to go, until I told him that; but once I said that, he did not protest.  Nothing wrong with his little brain, or with his loving heart!

I asked Kurt how much Willie weighs.  “28 pounds,” he told me.

“But that was back in the Fellowship Hall!” I informed him.  “He gained ten or twenty pounds, just coming over here to the sanctuary.”

Kurt laughed, so Willie laughed, too.

After Kurt and Victoria left, Larry realized that Willie’s little Rubicon Jeep pickup and a small car had been forgotten on the table, so we took them to their house before going home.

We chatted for a few minutes... Larry held baby Arnold... and the baby gave us both a big, sweet smile.

I leaned down to pet the cats, Yuki and Luna, who had come to greet me – and spotted Violet’s feet, as she stood there next to me.

I promptly counted her toes, then said, “Oh, thank goodness, you’ve got all your toes.  You have to count them every so often, you know, to make sure you’re not missing one!  If you ever come up with only four, you’d better start looking around for the lost one, quick!”

She wrinkled her nose and grinned at me.

Meanwhile, Larry had handed Arnold back to Victoria and picked up Willie.  Finding his little foot right next to me, I proceeded to count his toes, too.  “One, two, three, four, annnnd –” I tapped the final toe —  “Yep, you have five toes!”

He giggled and quickly pointed at his other foot.  “Count them!” he said.  Funny little boy.

When we got home, we found a package on the front porch.  It was the case for my new tablet.  The United States Post Office was working on Sunday.  On Easter Sunday!  Good grief.

I ordered some new Skechers shoes for Loren a few days ago, and they arrived today.  These have hard heel counters, so he won’t be able to scrunch them down and walk on them like he’s been doing with the old ones I got him last year.  I have a feeling they were a little too small for him, though anytime I asked, he pronounced them “Perfect!” and “Very comfortable!”  But I don’t see how that could be, when he continuously walks on the smashed heels.  These new ones have an angled heel counter, so the foot slides in easily without having to reach down and hold it.  I got half a size larger, too.  The old ones even looked sorta snug, especially if he was wearing thick socks.  I always hope I don’t get him shoes that will trip him up.

Levi and I have had several text chats lately, mostly consisting of funny pictures.  I sent this:  

He then sent me the picture below – which actually wound up happening at the luncheon last night.  One of Larry’s young second cousins, Jackie, came along and asked me, “What kind of pie would you like?” at that precise moment when I had stuffed my mouth with something large and chewy.

So I said, said I, “Gmhstmphglntmph.”

I wound up with coconut cream cheesecake.  I think.

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