Me, Myself and Memories

Updates from June, 2026 Toggle Comment Threads | Keyboard Shortcuts

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  Noreen 1:58 pm on June 4, 2026 Permalink  

  Clouds 

  Clouds have moved in right behind the half inch of rain that we received over night.  The thunder was ongoing.

  Today I was reminded from a text that took me right back to Esther Schafer, Carrie and Kevin’s grandmother.  Esther and Art lived in a huge old home on a huge corner lot.  Not only was Esther the main cook at the public school, she also cleaned Dr. Anderson’s medical clinic.  Esther could crochet in her sleep with the fine threads.  Art was the tractor mechanic for the Farmall tractors.

  There was a huge portion of their lot that was home to a huge ever-bearing raspberry patch on the entire north portion of the lot.  The raspberry season was when school lunches were not needed in the summer. Esther canned raspberry sauce and made raspberry jam to last for an entire calendar year.  It was also known that Esther sold raspberries by the pint and by the quart.  Her customers were on her timeline year after year.  The canes were just as tall as Esther and Esther was a tall grandma.  In the heat of summer, she would put on one of Art’s old thin long sleeve shirts and a fabric cap that was pulled down over her ears held by the elastic she had strung in the hem to keep the biting bugs away.  As the season wore down and the berries were no longer the huge succulent ones, Esther froze them mashed in plastic bags to use in the winter over cake or ice cream.

  It was not unusual that Art and Esther didn’t venture far from home when the berries were ripening.  It was an every day task.  What might not be ripe to pick today would be ready tomorrow.  Esther knew the rotation of that patch like no one’s business.  No one interfered.  Talk about small town business.

  Raspberry season was not for the faint of heart.

  Esther taught me how to eat raspberries with whole cream and a scant amount of sugar over them. 

  Memories of Art and Esther would fill volumnes.

  With that I will take my leave.  ♥

   
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  Noreen 2:16 pm on June 3, 2026 Permalink  

  The First 

  When I was in our grocery store I noticed the first of the apricots were in the produce isle.  They are one of my favorite fruits.

  Apricots made a great sauce to can in quart fruit jars.  So different from peaches or pears, they didn’t need peeling.

  After dad had passed away, Lena would come and stay with us for a week or so over the next years.  Mom drove herself and the visits were always a treat.  On one of her visits, she and I made several batches of apricot jam.  The apricots were pureed in the blender.  Small jars were washed, the heavy soup kettle came down from a nail on the attic steps and the process began.  Sur-Jell and sugar mixed according to the instructions in the Sur-Jell box.  Every fruit you could imagine had the instructions printed on the multi-folded pamphlet inside the box.  The jars looked like jewels as they sat on the kitchen counter after having been filled.  An old metal Folgers coffee grounds can had been bent for the top to serve as a spout.  Melted wax from the can sitting on the gas kitchen burner was poured over the cooked jam to seal it.  How sweet it was to work hand in hand with my mom in my kitchen.  Of course the amount that wouldn’t fill a jar to its brim was on the table for the three of us to sample come supper time.

  Once mom gave up driving, her solo visits were missed by Dennis and me.  I still miss my mom.

  With that I take my leave.  ♥

   
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  Noreen 2:58 pm on June 2, 2026 Permalink  

  Taste Buds 

  This evening’s supper is all about taste buds.  The Braun Schweiger liver sausage has been sliced and popped back into the refrigerator.  It takes a very sharp knife to get that job done.  The red onion has been sliced into perfect thin slabs.  There is a sandwich and soup supper coming up.  Dennis and I have both been hankering for this sandwich.  You either hate it or enjoy it.  The soup choice is up to Dennis.

  Dad, Raymond, would have been the first to slide up to the table for Bran Schweiger and onion.  Fine dining restaurants call it Pate.  His slice of onion would not be a thin slab.  One of his favorite sandwiches was of one ingredient: a thick slice of raw onion on Lena’s fresh homemade bread buttered up.  Sure do miss that fellow.

  It’s been first floor living so far this week and I will admit, a rather lazy one.  Catching some quilt show videos does entice me to start something with threads and fuzz.  I need to keep in mind all the steps required to get to the end-gate.  I don’t know if I am up to it and there is no one anticipating getting a quilt.  I need to really think this through.

  Persevering with my one floss thread over one cloth thread is challenging to say the least.  It’s been a long time since I stitched a pattern that has ten or more color swaps in a one inch square.  I did it when I was in my “Christmas phase” but that was some time ago.  This project I am doing because I started it and I don’t want to leave for a time when it might be pitched.

  With that I will take my leave.  ♥

   
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  Noreen 2:30 pm on May 28, 2026 Permalink  

  Cloudy 

  It is cloudy but nonetheless the warmth can be felt.

  An interesting news item brought back a wash of memories.  Now in grocery stores, some products sold in metal can containers will be in short supply.  That included, sardines, mackerals. tuna, corn beef, the meat spreads and Vienna sausages due to the cost of the cans in proportion to the contents.

  When Orlin and I lived in Riesel, Texas in the 60s, Orlin went to work for the Mart Herald in the town of Mart, a short distance from Riesel, no doubt running the Linotype.  Orlin wanted a lunch to take with.  His request was two pieces of buttered bread and a can of the Vienna sausages that he could then make a sandwich at his own time without a worry of anything being in the heat of the day too long.

  When I heard that, it brought a smile, and as I said, a wash of memories.

  Today Dennis has succumbed to spending more time in the house in his recliner rather than the still air in the patio porch.  It’s a good call.  Off and on, in between his eyes closing, he is watching a program about catching smugglers.

  Today was the last day of school for our community.  The street past our home will for sure notice the lack of traffic from buses in the morning and the afternoons.

  With that I will take my leave.  ♥

   
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  Noreen 2:21 pm on May 26, 2026 Permalink  

  Happy Summer 

  Last week it was a chilly atmosphere in the studio.  Today, it felt just right.  Talk about a theater of seasons.

  Again I worked on an alteration in the studio.  I had ordered an item online.  After waiting for an extended time for it to come, when it came the size was off by 2 to the excess.  I contacted the business and it was a mix up within the sizes from the US sizing to the European sizing.  All was checked over and the result was that it was a error on their side.  I didn’t need to return said item and the correct order would be forthcoming.

  I am not frugal but I had the opportunity to see if I could make a do-0ver.  Lena would have been up for the task.  Snip here, trim there.  She could take the collars off of dad’s blue chambre shirts when they frayed, flip it over to the underside and in a heartbeat dad never appeared to be in dire straights of going to town looking anything other than dapper as always.  Yes . . . those were the days when dad would come in to change out of his chores overalls into a pair donned as “town overalls.”  Call it self respect when going into town on business of either a thousand pounds of cattle concentrate or purchasing a new piece of farm equipment.  Dad ran a high-end business.

  It’s a warm afternoon and Dennis cleaned the garage floor for our car.  There was enough of the winter’s collection of kitty hair tufts to make a new kitty as the strong leaf blower got into every corner.  Outside it looked as if there were cotton balls flying through the air. 

  Before it got warm this morning, I baked out a pound of the Black Label thick cut bacon on a cookie sheet lined with the wide foil.  No mess when all was said and done.  Six of the smaller cucumbers have been peeled and a red onion sliced in very thin additions.  The sauce is some mayo with bit of salt to pull out the moisture of the cucumbers with a teaspoon of sugar.  Supper is bacon sandwiches and creamed cucumbers.  No additional kitchen heat added to this day.

  With that I will take my leave.  ♥

   
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  Noreen 2:04 pm on May 21, 2026 Permalink  

  Thursday the 21st 

  A beautiful day in the neighborhood.

  I always enjoy being able to wear  some of my warmer tops in the house when the furnace need not run.  I know Dennis is comfortable in the patio porch as he runs his own thermostat.  I don’t have a problem with that.  He deserves to feel comfortable.

  Today Dennis’ niece, Jean and her husband Jim, came calling today from Morris.  They have the ritual of placing flowers on graves for Memorial Day.  For myself and Dennis, we feel the same way:  remembering without flowers.

  Memorial Day always takes me back to the years at South Branch and the cemetery.  As we lived next door to it, our family did the honors of keeping it tidy, as well as weekly cleaning of the church.  The cemetery always looked spic and span the week or so prior to the holiday.  Often, Kevin would mow and I ran the gas fed weed whip complete with the harness.  We did not take on the task of watering live plants.  In time it was all we could do to pick up the plastic flowers that the wind carried hither, tither and yon.  There was no way that the wire that held them together would be a good thing if the lawnmower got tangled up with one of them.  Many memories.

  With that I will take my leave.  ♥

   
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  Noreen 2:13 pm on August 22, 2025 Permalink  

  A Sprinkle 

  A sprinkle here and a sprinkle there.

  The quest on Stauffer Avenue continues to allow for no matter what comes down the pike, it is not to be a burden on our children.  I am not sure if the fact that I know my way around P’s and Q’s is a blessing, but it does cut out the middle man.  We sold the back garage to Dennis’ grandson and I did the deed-work that was needed to transfer the title to AJ.  The deed stated that Alex John was a grandchild and the property was stated as being a gift.  That was that.

  Yesterday and today, I worked my way through the will that Dennis and I will have notarized next week at our bank.  Dennis and I have always worked together to the betterment of each of us and we don’t plan on stopping that.  Planning needs to be accomplished.

  Who knew when Dennis and I made a home together, there would be anything that needed to plan around.  A camper refrigerator in the kitchen, a used washer, dryer and cooking range from Leverson’s in Odin complete with the hook-ups.  My, my.

  Lots of water over the dam as the decades have flittered on.  Nothing so serious that forgiveness and trust didn’t or couldn’t fix.  Stability has always been paramount with me. 

  Indirectly, my father gave me that in the home that Dennis and I built from the ground up.  How did my dad figure into this?  Raymond sat with me through all the classes I needed to qualify for the license that carried me through my employment until at the age of 65, I could retire with stability.  Dad was wise beyond his years.  Dennis and I managed to pull off the same thing that Raymond and Lena did decades earlier.  Sweet.

  I have had several good and busy days.

  The rain is still just a sprinkle.

  With that I will take my leave.  ♥

   
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  Noreen 3:41 pm on March 5, 2025 Permalink  

  So it Blew 

  Last evening we ended up having heavy rain before the first of the snow could be seen flying sideways.

  We lost power at eight last night and it came on at 3:30 this morning.  The extra batteries.  Dennis went to bed about nine without the use of his CPAP.  I pulled one of our soft chairs closer to the bedroom door so I could here Dennis and cat-napped.  The house maintained a 58-degree temp for the duration.  That was the longest power-outage I can ever remember.  

  Dennis reported that from one of the televisions in the patio porch, we may have gotten between five to six inches.  It is indeed white.  Randy scrapped off the concrete drive and most of the drive is bare concrete.

  Sometime these last months, I had bought a box of Betty Crocker sugar cookie mix while in Sam’s Club.  Today was the day to use the last two pouches of the mix.  Dennis shook the eggs needed in a half-pint Mason jar and I put the butter to melt mode in the microwave.  With the butter and eggs then getting whipped into a frenzy in the KitchenAid mixer.  That beast rolled that cookie dough stiff enough that I could take a spoonful out at a time, roll it, and get it onto the baking sheet.  I did put some of the cookies in the freezer as I know from experience they don’t stay soft for too long.

  And how did I come about to have a KitchenAid mixer?  Several years ago, I helped out a previous employee when she was fighting Pancreatic cancer.  Her apartment was where she wanted to stay for as long as possible.  I was retired by that time, and I would be at her home every day as her daughter could not leave her work.  Lorraine didn’t want Hospice.  She was the most humble private person I have ever know.  One day when I went over, her daughter had made arrangements to take medical leave and could I please bring her mom to her home.  So it was determined. Lorraine had said that when her cookie making days were over, I was to take her mixer home with me.  A few days later when I tidied up her apartment, I did take the KitchenAid home.  Lorraine passed away within five days of being with her daughter. Whenever I use the mixer, I think of Lorraine. 

  But . . . this afternoon when the sugar cookies were done, I took the hot leftover coffee with a cookie and sat at the table.  I dunked this cookie as a homage to my great grandmother, Christine.  When I would stay at my grandparent’s home, Christ and Laura’s, Christine lived with them.  She spoke no English, but she always let me be by her side when she stirred up something to bake for the hard working multi-generational farm family.  In her long black dress with the ever fresh white apron, her and I would sit at the round dining room table to share a cookie.  She had heavily laced cream coffee and I had some coffee in my cup.  She would pick up her cookie and beckon me to do the same, and then . . . dunk!

  I have so many memories that seem to be freshened with the activities of my days.  What a treat.

  By the way, the oven dish of last night was very tasty.  Before putting the round, blue-speckled roaster into the oven, I covered the top of the dish with finely shredded Asiago-Parmeson cheese.  It gave a bite like no other.  A welcomed repeat for this evening.

  With that I will take my leave.

   
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  Noreen 2:30 pm on August 13, 2024 Permalink  

  Quite the Morning 

  It is quite the morning when I don’t hear the garbage man pick up our bin not 20′ from my bedroom.  I was out like a light.

  I deem success of each day when I have done enough physically and mentally that I can go to bed at nine thirty in the evening and sleep until eight in the morning.  I am not comparing my days to anyone else’s.  They are all mine alone.

  I was in the studio by eleven this morning.  This round of stitching and pressing would complete the 24 blocks of the latest quilt top.  As I sat at my sewing machine taking a sip of breakfast coffee now and then, my eyes wandered over to the shelves on the south wall.

  When one of Dennis’ sons lived in Alabama and we would visit, we got to know a neighbor of their’s, Mary and Max.   Max did woodworking in his spare time and he did a lot of it.  One year, I went back to Minnesota with one of Max’s wooden boxes.  Inside were two lift-out dividers.  The interior had red felt glued in it. 

  Sitting and looking at the box, I could not remember what was in it.  I lifted it down, dusted off the top and took a look-see.  There was a variety of crocheted crosses I had made, plus several bookmarks I had crocheted.  There was also a fairly large collection to tatted medallions.  I do not tat.  When Dennis and I had gone to the Sioux Falls trade shows for quite a few years, the people that had the table next to ours over the years were repeat neighbors.  As the fellows would hawk their wares, the wife would sit and tat.  Her medallions were for sale and each year I would purchase some.  Her medallions were keeping my crocheted items company.  Sweet.  I closed up the box and my mind began working on how to make the most of those delicate jewels.  

  Dennis was feeling less than good today.  I invited him to cut some fabric for me hoping that would take his mind off of himself.  My battery operated radio continued to cut-out until I remembered that that was a sign that the batteries needed changing.  I put that on Dennis’ plate.  He was shocked that the little radio that was a Christmas gift to me from decades ago took six “C” batteries.  As luck would have it, we had just enough.  KNUJ came in loud and strong.  Guess what was put on the next grocery list.

  I will check with Dennis to see what sounds good for supper.

  With that I take my leave.  ♥

   
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  Noreen 2:36 pm on March 24, 2024 Permalink  

  KNUJ 

  Whatever I hear on KNUJ today is where I am at with the weather.

  I decided to stitch out a rather lengthy design today.

  There were times, I would have 5 – 8 minutes before I would need to change the thread color.

  Two boxes were gotten off of the top shelf here in the studio.

  Talk about memorabilia in the form of fuzz and thread.  Working with threads and fuzz has been my innate being for several generations and I am still perfecting my skills.

  I have items from my great grandmother Christine on my father’s side who came through Ellis Island.  I have items from my grandmother Laura who was my dad’s mother.  I have items from my grandmother Martha who was my mom’s mother.  I have items from Esther Schafer who was Orlin’s mom.  I have items from my mom, Lena.  I treasure every item I touched today.  Yes . . . emotional attachments. 

  So here I am, my stitched out design is finished and I have put the covers back on the treasure troves.  At some time, I hope my children will be not only looking at those items as I did today, but also the items of mine that harken back to 1965.  As yes . . . fuzz and threads.

  With that I take my leave.  ♥