Quilts

19 Apr

One of the blogs I follow is “A Joyful Chaos” http://ajoyfulchaos.blogspot.com/

The lady has been doing an A to Z discussion of Amish life, and today she was discussing Amish Quilts.  She showed a picture of one she made right after she and her husband got married, and said it had taken her “almost a month” to finish it. I started a quilt when The Squire and I became engaged, and almost 40 years later, it is still in the cedar chest, unfinished. Of course, Mary Ann says she had no children and no technology to distract her, and even though I’ve never been one to watch TV, we started our marriage with three children between us – and I was working full time.

Back in the mid 60s, a woman with whom I worked found two pieced quilt tops in her mother’s belongings after she died. Sally had offered them to her two daughters-in-law, but they were not interested, so she asked me if I’d like to have them, as she knew I appreciated that sort of thing, and at the time I had two daughters. I was thrilled and deeply honored to have them.

Knowing I did not have the time or space to finish off these quilts, I asked my grandmother if she would take them over to Augsburg Home, the Lutheran Home for the Aged, and have the ladies over there do them for me, and I would pay for them when they were done. I know this is not a job that is done in a weekend, and with two children, a job, and a husband that was neither use nor ornament, I pretty much put them out of my mind. When I finally asked my grandmother about them, she replied, very casually, “Oh, you didn’t say any thing, so I thought you weren’t interested, and I gave one away.”

If I could have reached through the phone, I would have strangled her on the spot.

Sometime later, I was bewailing the fate of my lost quilt to my mother, and she said, “Ah! I wondered where that quilt came from! She gave it to your sister as a wedding gift. When I asked her where she’d gotten it, she just said she ‘fell heir to it’. I should have known.”  To top it off, the old lady actually had the chutzpah to have the quilt embroidered “To Lynn and Earl, from Grandmother” and the date.

Some people.

 

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Life’s Little Mysteries

15 Apr

Eddie1Friday, I took the quilt off our bed and lugged it up to the Laundromat. It took two days to dry it on the line, so we didn’t get the bed stripped and remade until yesterday – Monday.

When I put away sheets, I fold the top and bottom sheets, and one pillow case, then slide the entire business into the other case, so everything is together, and there’s no rooting around looking for things that match. (Although some people I could mention don’t think that’s important.) I tossed both pillow cases onto the cedar chest, and The Squire and I made up the bed. When we were ready to do the pillows, one case had disappeared. I have torn that room apart, looking for it. Under the bed, between the bed and the cedar chest, in dresser drawers in case I had folded it up with a pair of jeans or a turtleneck.  I even went back to see if by some chance it had migrated from our room back into the linen closet.

No dice.

And the cat! Normally, if you put something on the bed, any right-thinking cat will immediately jump up and take a nap on your suit jacket or clean sweater.  In an obviously vain attempt to keep the quilt clean, I folded up an old, much mended sheet, and put it on the bed.

And you see where Eddie is sleeping.

I suppose there are some things in life we are simply not meant to understand.

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The Birds and The Bugs

11 Apr

We saw our first goldfinch yesterday, so I stopped while I was off to the doctor and bought a finch feeder. I had originally planned on hanging a “sock” inside the globe and buying a new feeder for the big birds, but none of the stores carried anything even remotely like what I wanted, so I just got a finch tube and hung it from the same tower as the other feeder.  So far, only the goldfinches have eaten the Niger seed.  The purple finches seem content to eat “regular” birdseed, and oddly enough the squirrels are not the least bit interested, which suits me down to the ground. We have also had a redheaded woodpecker eating at our feeder the last two days. I will probably get some mealworms and toss them into the pot.

I swear, we spend more on animal food around here than we do on people food!

Speaking of “down to the ground”, this morning a squirrel was sitting on the tower, pushing the globe feeder back and forth, spewing seeds everywhere. Three of his buddies were sitting in the grass, scurrying around to eat what he had tossed to them.  Little stinkers.

Now, I am looking for a place to hang the hummingbird feeder. Last year the ants cleaned me out, but I have purchased a funny little up-side down cup sort of thing that goes between the feeder and the hanger. The inside of the cup is well laced with ant poison (Terro). In theory, the ants crawl down the outside of the cup and then up the inside, and before they can get to the feeder they are trapped.

I hope.

Ants! This morning, The Squire went into the bathroom and found the inside and the outside of the bathtub crawling with ants. We always get more in the bathroom than any other place, and while I’m glad I don’t have them swimming in my tea kettle, it just mystifies me. What’s in Bon Ami that they find so appealing?

And of course, there are stink bugs to contend with. We pull down the shades to go to bed at night, and out tumble two or three. I was sitting in the living room reading and one crawled up my leg. Every window sill has its own collection. They are not dirty, like roaches, and they don’t sting or make a mess, and Heaven knows I’d rather have them than ants, and even though everybody has them, it is disconcerting when you have company for dinner and one flies across the table. I even plucked one off the rector’s alb during communion one Sunday. What’s the etiquette on that?

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Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Directions

11 Apr

My girlfriend Kay and I are putting together a dollhouse kit – a country cottage.  She bought the kit, and I am “helping” her put it together, since I have built quite a few kits in the past.   (http://www.picturetrail.com/lady_anne)

I think she is a bit nonplussed by my attitude that the directions are just there to give you a rough idea, as I have hardly done anything the way it’s supposed to be done.  (I sew the same way.)  We did get the base made according to the instructions, but then we realized the doors are only 5-1/2 inches high, and the ceiling is 6-1/2, which is simply impossible. Who do you know who can walk through a door that short?  This meant I had to bring the walls and doors back here, and use the scroll saw to cut pieces 1-1/2 inches wide to put under all of the walls, and completely remake the doors.  Since gluing edge to edge is difficult under any circumstances, never mind the plywood here is only 3/16  inch thick, we had to groove and stain 1/8 inch balsa to make wainscoting to hold the two pieces together. Then I decided I didn’t like the fireplace, and redid that without so much as a by-your-leave. inside fireplace I have NO idea why it was so important to me that the fireplace not be flat against the wall. OCD, and all that. It only sticks out a quarter of an inch, but it’s the principle of the thing.

So far, we have gotten the base and two walls up, and it actually is beginning to come together. Kay muttered something about there “being a lot more to this than she realized”. She did, however, agree completely with “raising the roof”, so to speak.  We are also considering putting in another wall on the ground floor, to create a second room. At least, when I explained it to her, she nodded. She may have simply given up all hope of regaining control of this project.

adding space

This shows how we added the extra height at the bottom. This is the outside back of the fireplace, and I had to do the same to the sides. We wrapped it all in brick paper to keep it together.

The next thing is to decide how to handle the lights.  I think we’ll need to involve The Squire that part of the project.  We shall see.

 

 

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Memories

5 Apr

We had a pre-Easter work day at church this morning and members of the various scout troops which use our building were out in force to lend a hand, along with their parents. One tiny girl, barely tall enough to hold a rake, had gathered up a pile of leaves in the middle of the yard. A little boy – maybe her brother? – was scooping up the leaves with a garden trowel and walking them the fifty feet or so to the wheel barrow, trailing leaves behind him as he went. From time to time, the little girl would lean on the rake, look at him, and heave a big sigh.

Men!

The Squire said it reminded him of my painting story.

The Squire complimented her on her fine raking job, telling her she was one of the “best rakers they had”. A little later, he spotted her on the other side of the church building, where some mulch had spilled out of a flower bed. Her mother was trying to help her, and the child turned around, spotted The Squire and said  “He told me I was the best raker here. I can do this.”

When I was about three or four, a can of white paint was somehow left open in my grandparents basement. I decided I would take this opportunity to paint the seat of my swing. I’d scoop my index finger in to the paint can, and carefully holding the other hand under it, dash across the floor and up the steps, to smear the paint on the swing seat. Back down the basement stairs, wiping my hair out of my face and taking a swipe at my perpetually runny nose – and repeat as necessary.

Believe me, it was a lot messier than trailing leaves across the yard! Trying to remove oil-based paint from my skin left some very painful memories, and the easiest way to handle my gunky hair was to cut it all off. Oh, heck. It probably had lead in it, to boot!

I had foot surgery two weeks ago. My toes are still sore, and I think one of them is infected. I stopped at the store this morning to pick up some Epsom Salts to soak my poor foot.

My grandmother would often remark that everything Uncle Heinrich said “needed to be taken with a dose of salts”.  Since my mother’s people were from The Old Country, and we spoke German at home until I was about five, I just put this down to mixing up a “grain of salt” with “a dose of salts”.  It wasn’t until just today that I understood what an exceedingly low opinion she had of my uncle! The doggoned stuff is also a laxative!

 

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Fickle Fellow

31 Mar

Although The Squire always feeds the foxes and fills the big bird feeder in the evening, the morning feedings seem to have evolved into my job.

Blazer won’t even come downstairs until I get out of bed, and after I take my morning meds I can’t eat for an hour, so I generally fill the two smaller feeders and put out peanuts for the squirrels. This morning, The Squire said the squirrel I call Patches was sitting under the front of my car, his little hands folded over his chest, staring at the door. This particular squirrel will come running from the other side of the stream when he sees me come out the kitchen door, and always accepts peanuts from my fingers.

Since the poor thing was giving every indication he was going to faint from hunger, The Squire got the pitcher to fill the pipe we use to feed the little critters, and stepped outside. He hadn’t gotten three steps when Patches raced over, sat on his shoe top, and had his hands on my husband’s leg, ready and waiting to be fed.  He gobbled down one peanut while the Squire filled the pipe, and was sitting beside him, waiting for a second peanut in less than a minute.

Ah, the way to a man’s heart – even when he has claws and a long bushy tail!

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No Joke

28 Mar

You’ve all heard the joke about a group of Senior Citizens sitting around, drinking coffee. One says “my hands shake so badly I can barely lift my cup without spilling it”. Another remarks that since his last stroke he has trouble moving his feet, and the third says his eyesight is getting so bad he can hardly see across the room.

“Well”, sighs the first person, “at least we can all still drive.”

It’s no joke.

Kelly sent me out on a job this morning, and I overslept. I raced around the house, throwing on whatever clothing I could find, and stuck my contact lenses in my pocket, instead of taking the time to put them in my eyes where they belong.  When you approach a traffic signal and see three lights, two side by side and a third above the other two, there is a serious problem. Just how far above the two lower lights the third one appeared to be depended upon how far back I was. If I was the first or second car in line, there was only one light, but the farther I was from the signal, the greater the distance between the three lights.

I really, really, really need to get a pair of plain old glasses, just for driving.

And that’s the truth.

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It’s Not My Job!

26 Mar

A few weeks ago, the phone service at our church went down. After much to-ing and fro-ing, Verizon came out and laid a temporary cable along the back of the church, to show the “digging company” where to bury the permanent line.

The permanent line was buried yesterday, but when The Squire asked about rolling up the temporary one and taking it away, he was told “that’s Verizon’s job. All we do is bury them.”

We have no idea when Verizon is coming back, but we are still talking on the above-ground line, as the buried one hasn’t been hooked up. Two wires, two screws, two minutes, two weeks. In the meantime, the kids in the neighborhood are playing jump rope with the wire.

Could be worse, I suppose. At least the snow we had last night wasn’t deep enough to cover the loose wire, so – one fine day – Verizon will come along and collect it.

 

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One Week, Four Seasons

25 Mar

The tulips and daffodils are poking their little green heads above the ground. Saturday is was warm enough that I was able to go to my meeting with just a light shawl over my shoulders. It cooled off a bit Sunday and yesterday, but it is snowing at the moment. Old Man Winter is back for one last fling, but like most old men, this “fling” shouldn’t amount to much, as it is supposed to be near 50 tomorrow, and in the 60s by Sunday. We also have a number of trees here that don’t drop their leaves until the old ones are pushed off the stem by new, green growth, so I suppose you could say we are even having Fall.

March seems to have come in like a lion, and is going out the same way.

Oh! It is snowing, and we have ants – again.

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Putting My Foot in it

21 Mar

About a week ago I went to my podiatrist because I thought I had a corn on the inner edge of one of my toes on my right foot. It turned out I had bone spurs on both my little toe and the one next to it, and they were “kissing”.

This morning, the doctor numbed both toes and went in, between the skin and the bone, to grind off the spurs. Not at all painful, but I am all bandaged up, and wearing one of those fancy shoes. I’m going to a meeting tomorrow, so The Squire went over to church and borrowed the wheelchair, so I won’t be tempted to try to stand around talking.  Even with the fancy shoe, walking still moves my toes a little bit, and The Squire worries about me.

The only problem I am having so far it that when I sleep I normally tuck one foot or the other under the opposite knee, and I will have to be careful not to tuck the right foot under, as it would not do to mash those toes. A friend of mine had this same procedure done, and the bone snapped because she wasn’t careful.

As long as I can keep my foot out of my mouth I should be fine.

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