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

 

Last Tuesday, Hannah sent a picture of a cedar waxwing, writing, “In our tree out front.  Haven’t seen one of those birds for a while!”

“Well, that’s no fair at all!” I retorted.  “I haven’t seen one for years and years.”

“It’s eating seeds and buds on the trees,” Hannah said.  “Normally, I see more than one at a time, but I didn’t see any others.”

Maps at All About Birds and other birding websites show that they do breed in our area, but probably most of the ones we have seen were migrating through, as we’ve seen them in the spring or fall, and not summer or winter.

Some years back, a huge flock of migrating cedar waxwings arrived as scheduled in a little town in Iowa.  They showed up like clockwork every autumn, because Main Street was lined with cherry trees, and the birds feasted on the ripe berries before continuing on their southward flight.

The morning after the cedar waxwings arrived, citizens discovered, to their amazement, waxwings all over the sidewalks, streets, and yards, staggering along, unable to fly and barely able to walk.  After the initial horror dawned realization:  the weather had been such that all the cherries on the trees had fermented.  

Those birds were drunk.

By late afternoon, the inebriation had worn off and the birds were able to fly again.  And fly, they did – straight back up into the trees, where they again gorged themselves with the intoxicating cherries, again rendering themselves flightless.  The bird-eat-cherry cycle repeated itself for several days until the cherries were all gone.

Once the waxwings had recovered their wits, they continued their migration, hopefully with their little birdy compasses functioning properly again.

“Other than crashing into windows and falling prey to opportunistic domestic cats, the birds were fine and dandy,” the article said.  

According to an ornithologist at Cornell Lab, “Waxwings have large livers that can handle the ethanol, and won’t suffer any long-term effects from consuming the berries.”  (Although getting eaten by a cat seems to me to be somewhat of a long-term effect.)

Those birds were probably alcoholics for the rest of their little birdy lives.

Tuesday, I headed upstairs to my quilting room.  I have to turn 8 switches to get everything turned on:  lights, heater (or fan, depending on the weather), sewing machine, iron, coffee mug warmer, lights, lights, lights.  Oh, and my upstairs laptop.  Air conditioner in the landing window, too, if it’s hot up there.  Why don’t I have a master switch?!

Every now and then when the children were very young, we would have a soft, misty, drizzly summer day.  It’s rare, but it happens, in our neck o’ ze woods.  I often let the children play outside with umbrellas on those days, if there was no threat of lightning.

It used to be hard to keep healthy umbrellas around this joint because of that.  But the children looked so cute, out there playing under them!  Somehow, though, an umbrella spine always got broken, and then I would have to go places with a lame umbrella, one side drooping limply over my head. 

Here are Hester, 3 ½, and Lydia, 1 ½.

One evening I was reading a Winnie-the-Pooh story to the children from the original books, which were mine when I was little.  This story was The Flood, when Piglet got stranded at his house, and Pooh had to figure out how to get across a large body of floodwater – and He of Very Little Brain came up with a Grand Idea:  he would take Christopher Robin’s umbrella, open it, turn it upside down, sit in it, and paddle his way across the water.  And it worked!  That is, so long as Christopher Robin sat on the opposite side for ballast, it worked.

Pooh and Christopher Robin made it across the water, Piglet was saved, and Pooh was a hero. 

“Hooray for Pooh, hooray, I say, Hooray for Pooh!”

The very next afternoon, I noticed a flash of color out my bedroom window, peered out – and there was Hester, three years old, just positioning my brand-new umbrella upside down in a large mud puddle in the alley behind our house.  As she carefully seated herself in the center of the umbrella, bowing the spines alarmingly, she was singing, “Hooray for Pooh, hooray, I say, Hooray for Pooh!”

I would have had time to save the umbrella if I had’ve cranked open the window and yelled with haste; but I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it.  Sooo...  we added yet another lame umbrella to the collection. 

Did you know it’s hard to look elegant and capable when walking down the sidewalk – and your umbrella keeps sproinging wrong side out every few minutes, and then when you tug it back down to try popping it up properly again, it folds itself over your head like a limp lampshade?

That afternoon, my bird feeders were full of red-winged blackbirds, common grackles, house finches, English sparrows, American goldfinches, Eurasian collared doves, mourning doves, Northern cardinals, blue jays –  and a squirrel.  The goldfinches are all dressed in their summer finery again, with bright yellow feathers, black wings and tail, and little black caps on top.

I spent a good part of the day putting together Cock’s Comb blocks.  The previous week, it was taking me an hour to complete a block – and that’s after the first four patches in each quarter-block were already done.  By Saturday, it was only taking 40 minutes.  Reckon I could get it down to half an hour?

By midafternoon, I had completed six blocks in four hours.  40 minutes per block, same as last Saturday.  But I had paused to start some supper in the Instant Pot, so maybe I was a little faster than I had been.

I texted Joseph, “What size shirt do you wear?”

He responded, “Xtra smedium.”  😄  A minute later:  “Jk (just kidding).  XL.”

I ordered him a shirt for his birthday, which is the 24^th.

For supper we had tenderloin steak and lima beans, and for dessert, banana splits with fresh strawberries.

Wednesday, I opened a new bag of coffee beans:  Caramel Walnut Shortbread.  Mmmm, it’s good.  Some don’t care for flavored beans, but I love many flavors, and Christopher Bean’s are especially good, and always fresh.  It takes a few days to get orders from them, as they don’t roast their beans until they get the order.  They do have the regular roasts, too, with beans from several of the places that produce best-loved beans – Tanzania, Hawaii, Nicaragua, Sumatra, Sulawesi, Java, Ethiopia, Guatemala, and Kenya.

It was a pretty day.  Soon it will be warm enough in the mornings for me to work in the flower gardens.  I like flowers.  Mucking around in the dirt and weeds, not so much.  But it is good exercise.  And... flowers. 

A little before it was time to head off to our midweek church service, I finished putting together the last Cock’s Comb block.  Next, sashing and cornerstones.

At 8:30 a.m. Thursday, the temperature was 63°, on its way up to 80°.  It was sunny, windy, and a bit smoky from prescribed fires in the Flint Hills of Kansas.  The previous day, a weatherman had mistakenly called them ‘wildfires’.  

I had an appointment with my family doctor in David City that morning to have a small spot on my face removed.  Nothing serious, just one of those spots that are best taken care of before they do become serious.  David City is about 35 miles to our southeast.

After leaving the doctor’s office, I drove over to the nearby park and little lake to see if there might be any little goslings wanting to be photographed.

No goslings, but I did get some good WGCPs (Wild Goose Chase Pictures), despite it being overcast by then, and still smoky. 

One gander – let’s call him Tutankhamun – was completely convinced that the entire pond was his, his, his!!!, and he set out to prove it, too.  He flew all the way across the lake to chase another goose – let’s call him Tatum – that was calmly minding his own business on the opposite bank.  With a ferocious flurry of feathers and frantic honks, Tutankhamun chased Tatum into the water, where the fight raged on.  The pursued goose dove, and the pursuing goose dived after him. 

The water had almost calmed before one popped up.  The other came up shortly, and the chase was immediately on again.

Tatum, who’d just been trying to live his little goosy life, swam for dear life and managed to get far enough from Tutankhamun’s sharp, snapping tomium, flailing wingslaps, and raking claws that he was able to take flight.  With his concentration solely on escape, he flew straight at me as I stood alongside the lake snapping pictures.  I vaguely wondered if I should move out of his flight path, but the photo opportunity was too great to pass up; so I went on standing there, pressing the shutter button. 

Fortunately, Tatum saw me before it was too late, avoided me, and proceeded on down the lake to the other end.

Meanwhile, Tutankhamun’s attention then focused on a couple of other geese he was determined to eradicate.  They – let’s call them Gander and Goosey McGooseface – were strolling harmlessly along the banks of a little island in the middle of the pond.  It being about noon, they were probably looking for some tasty snails and worms, with a bit of barley and sedge on the side.

With a ferocious hiss and a frightful honk, Tutankhamun interrupted their lunch.

Mr. and Mrs. McGooseface, however, were of sturdier cloth than that first hapless patsy.

Together, they stood their ground.  Quite the cacophony, ’twas.  Even the turtles along the shoreline stood high on the rocks (or each other’s backs), craned their turtly necks, and watched the show.  A dog in a passing SUV stuck his furry head out a window and stared, too.

 % Turtles &

Tutankhamun, effectively routed, went off to tend his feathers in another part of the lake.

More pictures here.

On my way home, I took a birthday gift to granddaughter Keira, who is now 7.  She’s the little girl who weighed 2 lbs. 8 oz. when she was born.

I gave her the ‘Paper Dolls of Fabric’ that I once made for my sister, who kept them at her house for her granddaughters and great-granddaughters to play with when they visited.  They still look like new.  (The ‘paper’ dolls, that is, not the granddaughters.  The granddaughters have aged considerably in the last ten years.  😆)

Oliver, 3, watched me taking pictures of Keira with the ‘Paper Dolls of Fabric’.  He looked around, spotted some small silk blossoms on the floor; they’d fallen from the festive flower streamers Hester had put up over the door into their enclosed porch.  Picking one up, he said, “Would you like to take a picture of this pink flower?”

“Sure!” I said, and aimed the camera.

He held the flower right beside his face and smiled sweetly into the camera.  I took the shot.

He grinned, looked around, spotted a lavender blossom, picked it up.  “Would you like to take a picture of this purple flower?” he asked.

I aimed, he again held the flower up near his face, smiled sweetly.  I took the picture.

He looked around again.  Seeing nothing to his fancy, he trotted into the playroom, grabbed a big red balloon, and ran back to the porch.

“Do you want to take a picture of this balloon?” he asked.

“Okay!” said I.

He held the balloon in front of himself, smiled at the camera.  I snapped the shutter button.

Funny little boy.  He didn’t want to just say, “Take my picture!” – but he got it done, didn’t he?

Spooky kitty came to greet me (cautiously at first; she’s easily spooked, after all!), and then Bumble, the new kitten, peered around the corner to see what was going on, eyes huge.

We walked outside and looked at the blooming trees and all the pretty flowers – tulips, daffodils, hyacinths... and a lot more that are coming up and will soon be blossoming:  peonies, iris, etc.  Andrew and Hester have a pretty yard.

Hester wondered what her little pointy-petaled tulips are.  I used to have some when we lived in town, but I couldn’t remember what they were called.  I looked it up when I got home.

They are Linleaf Tulips (Tulipa linifolia), I think.

Hester sent a cup of sliced fresh pineapple and strawberries home with me.  They were scrumptious, and exactly what I needed.

Here are a few of those ‘Paper Dolls made of Fabric’.  There are two little girls and two little boys, and dozens of sets of clothes.  Each doll is about 18” tall.

Hester found this pretty, vintage basket amongst her things, and the dolls and accessories fit into it perfectly.  I had thought I should look for a plastic bin for them, but the basket is much prettier.

I was just picking up my cup of coffee and preparing to head upstairs to my quilting studio when I caught a glimpse of movement outside the kitchen window.  I barely turned my head and looked out in time to see a woodchuck ripping down the front sidewalk and over to the east lawn, going faster than any squirrel I’ve ever seen, even when running in high gear.  I’m telling you, that critter had pushed the nitrous oxide button!

Back in my sewing room, I cut sashing and cornerstones for the Safari Animals quilt, got the long sections sewn together, and then started removing newsprint from the paper-pieced Cock’s Comb blocks.

It was 51° by midafternoon Friday, but there was a cold north wind gusting up to 26 mph, making it feel like 37°.  I spent the rest of the day removing paper from those blocks.

One of my great-nephews, Michael, is Larry’s boss.  He and his wife Andrea invited us for supper that evening.  They have three little girls.

We took each of them a glass jar of Oui strawberry yogurt and a Cerez Pazari fruit leather bar.  I gave Michael and Andrea a fruit leather bar, too, “so the parents don’t eat the children’s food,” I told them.  😅

Too bad it was the Cerez Pazari fruit leather instead of the Zest Delites I got before Christmas; the Zest Delites are better.  I thought I’d check these out, just to see which we liked best.

They fed us bacon-wrapped meatloaf patties, green beans from the garden, mashed potatoes, and strawberry shortcake.  Other members of the family were visiting, too, and we had an enjoyable time.

The little girls evidently liked their treats, as they spent the rest of the evening smiling at me every time I glanced in their direction.

We watched an interesting National Geographic documentary on Lewis and Clark while we were there.  Michael and Andrea have a nice area all finished off in the lower level of their house, complete with big comfy leather sofa and loveseat and a big stuffed chair, and there’s a large screen on the wall.  The three little girls and their little cousin all fit in that one big chair, and they kept peeking around the arm of the chair to grin at me.

Saturday was a pretty day.  I opened a couple of windows, even though it was only 52° outside.  I got as many of the rows of blocks sewn together as I could before cutting apart the animal prints and attaching borders to them.

I put a Red Baron supreme pizza in the oven that evening, while Larry took the Mercedes to the shop and washed it.

Sunday morning, our Sunrise Service was at 7:00 a.m.  We sang some Easter songs, the men’s choir sang, and our pastor, my nephew Robert, gave a short sermon.  Then we all went to the Fellowship Hall for breakfast.

We had scrambled eggs, hard boiled eggs, buns and mini nut muffins, ham, sausage, chocolate or white milk, various kinds of juice, bowls of mixed fruit, and doughnuts of all kinds.  We sat across the table from son and daughter-in-law Teddy and Amy and three of their children.  The other six are teenagers and young adults, and were helping serve tables.

Our main service was at 11:00 a.m.  Before our song service, the brass band played a medley of songs.  It was so beautiful; I love the majestic Easter songs.  ♫ ♪  He lives!  ♪ ♫

The congregation sang a song with the band, and the choir sang before the sermon.

The string orchestra played before our evening song service, and we sang the first congregational song with them, also.  One young girl plays the harp.  Our granddaughter Emma plays the cello.  A young women’s group sang before the sermon.

After the sermon, we had a luncheon.  We sat across from Andrew and Hester and their two, Keira and Oliver; and Bobby, Hannah, and their oldest, Aaron, sat next to us.

When Andrew and Hester went to Ireland a number of years ago, they were served some breakfast tea somewhere that Andrew particularly liked.  They have been unable to find any here that he likes as much, and they don’t recall the name of the tea they had there in Ireland.  So every now and then when I find a New and Different kind of Irish breakfast tea, I get it for them, on the off chance that it might be The One.

Church near Bellwood

Recently, I was listening to a YouTube video in which some English people are renovating a chateau and a convent in France.  They traveled to England to pick up some items for their buildings, and they also purchased some Barry’s Irish breakfast tea, which, they claim, is the best tea available, anywhere, ever.

I promptly pulled up Amazon, hunted some down, and ordered a box of it.  I also ordered a small bottle of Wite-Out. 

The sturdy plastic-bubble-on-cardboard package containing the Wite-Out arrived rattling around in a box that would’ve held a dozen packaged bottles.  The fairly large (and flimsy) box of  tea?  It arrived in a thin bubble envelope.  Squished. 

Before the evening service, I texted Hester:  “The Barry’s tea will be in a bag on the back seat behind the driver’s seat, in case you head out of church before we do.  The box is all jimmied up, and evidently there’s at least one tea bag broken, because there was tea all over the box under the plastic wrap.  I removed the wrap and got the tea off the box, and put it in a Ziploc bag.  And somebody stole a couple of teabags while they were at it.  😉”

And then we drove home after church without noticing that the tea was still in the car.  Andrew and Hester must’ve been upstairs playing with the children in the gym; they had not left before us after all.

Hester texted, “We drove around the parking lot but didn’t see your car.  🙃  Hopefully we didn’t miss you!”

“Sorry, sorry,” I apologized, “we drove off without even looking to see if the tea was riding along with us!  Daddy will give it to Andrew tomorrow.  It’s Arnold’s and Maisie’s fault.  Just a couple of small discussions with those two small people, and the thought of ‘tea’ fell right out of our small brains.”

“That’s okay!” laughed Hester.  “We both are bad at recognizing cars, so weren’t sure if we just missed you!”

“That’s because car manufacturers make cars look so much alike these days,” I told her.

I sent this picture, labeling it ‘Lada’.

Next picture:  “See?  Just alike.  Bentley.”  😂

Speaking of cars, not long ago I watched a video where a young woman drives up to a gas pump, placing the pump on her left.  She climbs out to fill her car – only to discover there is no gas flap on the left.  She stares at the smooth rear quarter, bamboozled and perplexed.  She finally walks around to the other side of the car.

Ah.  There it is; it’s on the right!  She gets back in the car and drives a half-oval to the other side of the pumps.  Gets out and goes to fill the tank – and finds out that she is still on the wrong side of the pumps.

She gets in her car with a little flounce of exasperation (this trouble is probably the fault of the gas station attendant somehow, right?  Or possibly the car manufacturer) and she proceeds to try her luck at the pumps on the opposite side of the bay.

She carefully pulls up just so... climbs out...

But she has driven yet another half-circle, placing those recalcitrant gas pumps on the left side of her car again!!

She gives a little stamp of aggravation, jumps back in her car, and this time chooses to back around to the other side of the pumps, narrowly avoiding taking out the barrier post as she goes.

This time it will surely be different.

She climbs out, stomps with determination to the pump, jerks out the handle, turns, — and again there’s no gas flap on the left side of her car.

She pitches the handle back onto the pump with force, leaps back in her car, and, squealing the tires a bit, roars off, purportedly to find a station specifically for cars with gas flaps on the right.  Obviously, this station was only for cars with gas flaps on the left!

It was a sunshiny day, 60° at noon on the way up to 73°.  I drove to town this afternoon, got the Mercedes insured in Larry’s and my names rather than Loren’s and my names; then went to the courthouse to have a new title made with my name on it instead of both Loren’s and my names.  It took over an hour – not too bad, I guess, since the insurance company is on the east side of town, and we live 7 miles west of town.

I think the most important part of the whole shebang is in the section of the Insurance ID card under the heading ‘If You’re in an Accident’.  Point #1 reads, “Don’t admit fault.”  😄

Trees were leafing out and in bloom all over town.  Too bad I didn’t have my camera!

I finished the laundry this evening.  Tomorrow I hope to get the Safari Animals quilt top all put together.  Maybe by Wednesday I’ll be quilting it! 

I sent this picture to Hester a little while ago, writing, “Weren’t we cute?”

She responded, “I love that picture!!  Reminds me of Maisie.  Lolol”

I have noticed the similarity a few times, myself.  😊

What on earth.  Microsoft Word just replaced a random bunch of proper nouns in my journal with the name ‘Lana’.  Proper nouns like ‘Larry’, ‘Amy’, ‘April’, ‘Keira’, etc.  Not all of them, mind you; just random, as I said.  About 30 of them.  I’ve never had that happen before!  And I’ve been using Word for 27 years now.  Oh, and it replaced my own name, ‘Sarah Lynn’, with ‘Lana Lana’.  Maybe Sonny James hacked my laptop?  (He sang ‘No Lana-Lan-na-na’ in 1962.)

“Did you hack my laptop, Lana?” I asked my friend and fellow quilter.

I looked it up, and discovered I’m not the only one who has experienced this phenomenon.

One young woman had written a 140,000-word dissertation, and just minutes before she sent it to her professor, Word randomly replaced a couple dozen country names with ‘England’!  That was back in 2020.  The only advice a Microsoft tech could give her was to take all the macros out of her document.  She couldn’t, though; the document was actually utilizing those macros.  (I doubt that was the problem, in any case.)

Computer gremlins!  That’s what it’s gotta be.  Right?

Bedtime!

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