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  • Noreen 4:13 pm on March 19, 2019 Permalink  

    The Walk 

    It’s not just the walk that I strive to do everyday . . . it’s my walk.  The hymn comes to mind, “Just a Closer Walk With Thee.”  For the two miles and however long it takes, I have a chance to spend visiting with God.  I think on times past, the now and the future.  

    Reflecting can’t change anything that has been done.  My best bet is that in reflecting, I may avoid doing some of the same things that caused me to stumble then and enhance the things that were a positive in my life in times ago. 

    Taking full advantage of today and all it brings forth is such a gift.  The gift may bring tears of hurts.  The gift may bring tears of humility.  The gift may bring tears of joy.  It is a gift of perhaps new opportunities I do not want to waste. It’s my gift for today and I take it gladly with the prayer that I have many more such gifts allowing for personal improvements as well.  As Lena would tell me when she was getting on in years, “I can still look for signs of improvement in you.”  Yes, Mom, I can still hear you.

    The future can seem so daunting.  It can bring fear.  It can bring worry.  Those two items are the hardest to tell the Lord to do what he thinks is best for me and for my loved ones.  At the age I am, I still struggle in allowing him to take it as his own.  He is there 24/7.  I, on the other hand, need a good night’s rest.  As I don’t have a bucket list, each day becomes my future.  I always pray that I do with it, the best that I can within my power.  This I pray Lord, in Your name.  Amen.

     
  • Noreen 6:54 pm on February 25, 2019 Permalink  

    Checking out Resources 

    An embroidery design had been haunting me to try.  When a design is downloaded, it could come from a source that champions a certain brand of thread.  Every company puts their own spin on the names that they assign to each color of thread.  My aunt has invested in multiple brand names . . . not this stitcher.  My brand is Isacord and I am sticking with it.  It does happen to be the brand of thread that Bernina touts.  If I buy a design from the website that they support, the color codes match what is in my thread boxes.  Today . . . I was on my own looking up sites that do have thread comparisons from various companies.  It just took time and I had it to burn.

    After I got the machine to begin stitching, there is that time where I can fill in with dusting in the sewing room, checking out the next great attempt, etc, until it is time to change the color of the tread to continue the stitch project.  Out came the drawer that is all about holes.  A review was needed.  Holes punched into any and every venue you can think of.  The pretty pink tool is called a Crop-a-Dial.  It will set snaps, grommets and Crop-a-Dialalso punch holes.  My best luck is using it for punching holes as it will take on leather, vinyl, cork and multiple layers of paper.  My hands don’t work the best to line up the snaps and such with the settings while still having a firm grip on the pliers handle.  The Cricut Silent Setter also does holes as well as having a soft bed for snaps and such and the fabric to lay while I use a mallet to pound the hell out of the steel handle to crimp the metal items secure.  While the sewing machine embroidered, I reacquainted myself with all the resources that the drawer held.  Yup, it was still all viable and usable according to what my hands could do.  

    When Carrie and Kevin were babies and toddlers, there was no end to snaps that I put into their clothes.  Entire inseams of their clothes were snapped, as it was quicker to undo the snaps in the inseam than take off the entire garment to change diapers or training pants.  These fancy tools that I now have were not in my world at that time.  It was more like a metal punch and a hammer to set the snaps.

    With that being mentioned, I have gone to several baby showers in the last year.  Oh my gosh!  The fancy knit clothing that looks more like doll clothes than baby clothes . . . it is unbelievable.  What struck this old timer was . . . no snaps in the inseam.  Nothing like wrestling a wee one out of a one-piece item of clothing to get to that sweet little butt.

    I do have to add that when I opened my eyes at eight this morning, the first thing that my eyes focused on was the snow that was falling, much like confetti.  Yuck.  Not enough to warrant Randy and his snowblower, but I did shovel snow out of doorways and my all time favorite paths.  We are on the last week of the month from hell.  Ya, I heard.  March may have a bit of snow left that needs to harass my ass.

     
  • Noreen 5:00 pm on February 21, 2019 Permalink  

    The Table 

    Sun shining and whether the temperatures want to cooperate, the birds sure are singing.  Spring is on its way whether Mother Nature likes it or not.  All that I am doing today is working with ice build up right at the back door.  We have a bag called Safe Walk, it is a derivative of corn.  I use it sparingly as I have no idea where we bought it quite a few years ago.  Sprinkle a little . . . let it work.  When the bare concrete shows, I move the slush of it to the next spot.  I know as soon as the sun goes down, ice will materialize as we have snow melting down onto the back door.  Tomorrow we will do it all over again.

    Most of today I have spent at our dining room table.  No . . . we don’t have a dining room.  We have an expanse of an area that serves as a living room, dining room and office.  The table was purchased at a garage sale many years ago.  It was the first table in the home that Dennis and I built.  It needed a new piece on top of quartersawn Oak.  A fellow here in town did a great job on it.  Dennis and I refinished it and it has been in service every day since in our home.  It is called a refractory design as both ends pull out for additional table surface.  Why on earth do we need a table that pulls out to 72 inches in length? For me every home needs a table of serviceable size, even if the two of us use only a small portion of it. 

    When I was growing up there were six sets of feet under a round Oak table.  Untold number of loaves of bread were rolled out and pit into pans on the surface.  School work was done on the table while Mom darned socks.  Mom prepared her Sunday School lessons at the table.  If a home perm was to be given, all the paraphernalia was spread out on the table. Dad spread out and read multiple issues of The Farmer magazine at the table after the milk cow chores were done. The table was an extension of the sewing area as the treadle sewing machine was just a few feet from it.  Card games were played at the table when aunts and uncles visited.  The less desirable duty it served was when I had buckets of chicken eggs to wash so they would be ready for the egg hauler.  Dang, some of those hens would poop in their nests. Yuk!  That Oak table could fill a library of tales.

    No matter where Orlin and I lived, the table was always where we gathered.  When the kids were small, they were tied into the highchair and slid up to the table to take part.  Later on, four sets of feet were under the table for all meals.  The table was used when we made sauerkraut in the farm kitchen in Boon Lake Township.  The kids were in charge of tamping the kraut into the quart jars.  When an apple press was present, . . .  yup, the kitchen table was there getting splattered with sticky juice that didn’t get into the jars.  Poultry was always raised to be butchered for the freezer.  Nothing like a table to take care of the evisceration. As the kids got older, when Carrie and Kevin were home alone during a meal time, most likely it was in front of the television.  Why not give the table a break!  Carrie cut out fabric on the table from patterns that she would put under the needle of the sewing machine.  Kevin used the table when he worked on his Cub Scout Pinewood Derby cars.  Thread, fuzz or sandpaper dust . . . the table took the brunt.  Nicks and scars were taken in stride.  The table was the center of the family.  

    That may well describe why now, on Stauffer Avenue, we have a huge table in a space that could very well utilize a card table.  Our table has scars on it.  A pocket knife seemed just the right tool to try and loosen a rusted screw.  The pocket knife spared the finger and the table got the nasty end.  The rotary cutter that I used for fabric piecing happened to run off of the cutting mat during a time when I didn’t have a sewing studio.  On second thought, a hot pad should have been used to spare the finish of the table.  Who knew that one of the metal boxes that Dennis has spare gun shells in had a sharp corner.  The table, just as our house, is here to be a part of our day-to-day living.  The wear and tear that the table may show can be seen as badges of those who live here or may have visited here . . . our home.  Why would we save it and shelter it so it can remain pristine?  This table, in the home on Stauffer Avenue, represents all the tables that have gone before and makes for wonderful memories of my life worth nurturing.

    Today, I spent the day at the table, cutting out pieces of a project yet to be.  Priceless!

     
  • Noreen 4:29 pm on January 30, 2019 Permalink  

    Accepting the Cold 

    There is nothing more to do than acknowledge the cold and get on with the day.  No point in grumping about it.  The sun is bright and there are some that are having it worse than us by far.  I do not believe Dennis’ furnace is even able to have a shutting down point for a break in the patio porch.  The thermostat doesn’t go below 45 degrees.  No way are we going to shut it off.  We will endure and be thankful for all that could break down in the cold and has not.

    The deer returned last night for their shell corn.  That in itself was a bright spot.  Dennis had moved the top of the bird bath so it was right in line with what can be seen from our east bathroom window.  What a wonderful sight to take in as they were eating.  It was colder than I thought we should be out . . . but . . . with Dennis going to be gone for his road trip coming up on the 3rd of February, we headed to Fleet and Farm.  There now is close to 150 lbs of shell corn in the garage.  I will be able to put out corn while Dennis is gone.  How cruel that would be to have food for them and then stop feeding them.  

    I knew that today I was going to pack away the contents of the plastic tub that has been under my bed for thirteen years.  We had purchased a plastic Fisher Price doll house and the contents for it when Megan was two.  Megan stayed with us for more wonderful times than I can count to. The doll house was in our closet and the tub for the contents under the bed: close at hand in a heartbeat for hours of pretend play. 

    Megan made trips with me to the Fleet and Farm store when she visited.  From the time her little nose could reach the display for the Schleich small plastic animals that the store sold, I was suckered in.  Two at a time.  The doll house would become an animal hospital or a people hotel.  We got our monies worth.

    When Nicholas came along and both kids would stay with us, Megan clued him in.  A trip was made to the Fleet and Farm store.  They each would pick out two animals.  Over the thirteen years the doll house was played with and the animal collection fit into three empty ice cream pails. 

    I digress:  I emptied the tub of the doll house furniture onto the sewing tables in the basement.  I made sure the batteries were taken out of the several items that had them in.  Of course I had to Moving Familypush the buttons and hear the melodies.  I had to push the steering wheel of the doll house family car to hear it honk as I maneuvered the family members into their seats, fastening their seat belts.  The doll house family consisted of a mom, a dad, a young boy, two twin babies and a gray haired grandma.  I carefully tucked all the pieces in place . . . and my tears rolled.  I couldn’t help it.  It evoked so many sweet memories.  It was time to move on.

    I took a photo with my camera and then sent the photo and a text message to Megan, letting her know that tDoll House Familyhe doll house family was moving on until such time that perhaps they would find a place in her home some day.  Yes, I was still weepy.  I had no more than put the tub and the doll house into their storage place when I got a text back from Megan.  “Aww  🙂  Hugs too!  I’m getting my driving permit today!” 

    Talk about an ironic twist to the day.  I moved on and put the doll house memories away and Megan is just beginning to move on into a whole new dimension in her world making for more new memories to share with her Grammie.  I love it!  There is much to accept in our days, be it the cold or realizing that Megan and Nicholas are growing up on me.  Yes . . . much to take in and much to enjoy.

     
  • Noreen 2:28 pm on January 13, 2019 Permalink  

    No Slack Time Here 

    Sunday doesn’t always mean a day of rest.  But who is to say that Sunday can’t be a day of being busy and feeling good.  What’s not to like about feeling really good!

    First thing off the bat: I am totally using my old Dell laptop here in the sewing studio until I get the HP Notebook into the GEEK squad on Tuesday.  Passwords are specific.  When keys don’t respond, passwords typed in error can get you locked out of a site.  Not to worry.  The HP will still get a workout in the living room until Tuesday, as Dennis likes to play Candy Crush on it.  It is the only computer in the house of the three of them that had it loaded automatically.  Dennis doesn’t like to play it via Facebook. 

    I enjoy my sewing studio as you all know.  For as much time as Dennis is down here I know he enjoys the ambiance of it.  He may be playing solitaire on the Dell laptop down here or enjoying watching television while rocking away in the rocker.  Hmm.  Today I stretched Dennis’ options.  I have the serger up and running like a top.  I cleared it with Carrie and Jeremy about cloth dinner napkins to be made out of cotton.  Jeremy said the poly napkins just smeared everything around on hands and face.  I can see that happening easily as there is no absorption.

    I causally asked Dennis if he would like to try his hand at it.  Initially he thought he would just screw things up.  I encouraged and he sat down at it.  The cloth I had cut up was a Christmas checked with definiteserging cowboy lines to follow under the pressure foot.  Two odd ball spare pieces of fabric to practice on . . .  over and over.  By George, “I think he’s got it.” It is very good eye-to-hand coordination as well as foot control to machine operation.  It’s nothing that has a time frame.  It is just another option when the day may go slow in winter weather.  By the way . . . there are multiple coffee breaks down here. 

    Today was the day I cut into my piece of cork for Nicholas’ wallet.  Why would I think I needed to try this?  I think Kevin’s grandmother, Esther Schafer, was in the same boat when she cut up pop cans into rectangles featuring the brand and flavor of the drink to make Kevin a hat.  I believe they were all Sprite cans as I recall the green.  Esther would punch holes all around the aluminium rectangles and to allow crocheting around each one.  Each one was joined via crocheting to make a circular hat.  The final step was to crochet a brim.  THIS is what grandmothers do!  

    A WalletYesterday I contrived a pattern for the wallet.  It wasn’t very easy on the eyes but it allowed me the comfort I needed before cutting into my cork fabric.  Cork fabric isn’t like walking into JoAnn Fabrics and asking for a yard or two.  It is by the inch.  I voiced my concern to Dennis.  He nonchalantly said it maybe would need a new piece to be bought if I screwed up.  I love how the ole cowboy thinks.  It does bring confidence and comfort.  After taking steps one at a time, I do have a completed wallet.  Is is perfect . . . no.  Is sewing on the cork fabric a lot different than fabric . . . yes.  What did I learn?  Changing pressure feet on the sewing machine is important.  When sewing flat seams, the quarter inch metal foot worked great as most seams are 1/8″. openwallet Sewing around the covering I put on the snap, I had to use the zipper foot as to stay off on the far edge.  I should have made the covering for the snap a bit larger to be able to stay farther from the bulk of the snap.  That would have allowed for better control, thus Walleta better finished look.  On the finishing stitch around the entire project, I should have started at the notched slot that allows for the wallet to fold and gone around from there rather than starting on the side.  The stopping and starting more than once going around the wallet allowed for more threads to be clipped and that could have been avoided.

    This may be my wallet to use as a sample on the real cork fabric.  I think I learned enough to warrant cutting into another piece and ya . . . I am a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to sharing from what my needle produces.  

    So anywho . . . Dennis and I didn’t rest on this Sunday, but in visiting over a cup of afternoon coffee, we both learned a lot about what we can challenge ourselves to do and thus feel good about the learning experience.  Yup . . . we should never say never and should never cease the learning process. 

    One last note today: Dennis commented on how much he enjoys the days when Kevin and Kersten come with their vehicle full of tools.  Whether it was the removal of our house chimney, getting the I beam planted into our yard so Kevin could secure our vintage garage to it, or watching him paint hands on a clock. Dennis says he always comes out ahead as by watching the processes he does glean something he didn’t know before their visit.  It’s a good thing!

     
  • Noreen 5:18 pm on January 6, 2019 Permalink  

    Gloomy Skies 

    The sun had been so welcomed the last several days.  I cracked open one eye this morning and saw fog.  The eye went shut and I stayed where I was.  Dennis and I both slept until nine this morning.  We agreed last night that today was going to be a slow quiet day and I dare say we were off to that great start.

    Yesterday when Kevin was here I asked him to see if he could get one of my computer keys to pop off as it was AWOL.  Today I took his advice.  I called the GEEK squad in Mankato.  I have a year-by-year service contract with them.  Five minutes in, I had the solution.  The next time we travel to Mankato I need to turn in my HP Notepad to the squad.  They will need to send it in and a new keyboard will be installed in the unit and then it will be sent back to me.  When Dennis and I do make a trip to Mankato with the HP in hand, I will be sure to back it up on my independent Click Free backup unit.  No fees required.  Of course I had one more question: as long as the keyboard needed to be replaced could they put in a silver colored unit rather than black, which is easier to see.  The answer was, no.  But . . . on the upside, the keys that no longer bare the appropriate letters as they have worn off will be an automatic fix.  Wonderful! 

    With a solution in the future I headed down into the sewing studio.  More years than I care to admit, I purchased several Damask table clothes on a Pamida clearance table.  I am no longer doing full sized table clothes for gatherings.  Placemats are easier for me.  I cut one of the table clothes up and made place mats out of it.  I did some cross-hatching to make them double thick and a bit more durable.  I went on YouTube and realized that many gals put on a serger edge.  This gave me a chance to up and use the serger thatEaster Egg (2) (Phone) I had been given.  Today, I decided to see how the placemats would cotton to an embroidery design.  I am not disappointed by the results.  If I do continue using the Damask tablecloths for smaller projects,  I need to use a more dense stabilizer as it would allow the dense stitching to lay a bit smoother.  Would I hesitate using a placemat of this quality as it’s finished?  No.

    A good day of seeking and searching for answers near and far and leaving the gloom outside to its own.

     
  • Noreen 3:43 pm on December 24, 2018 Permalink
    Tags:   

    Megan’s Clouds 

    With passing birthdays that Dennis and I have enjoyed, our needs are minimal and having nothing to do with material items.  Each year we seem to live a bit more minimalistic.  It feels good.  The “extras” that we do have in our home are these: that we have an emotional attachment to our own personal history, the handmade items from family, or those that have come from my creativity.

    Families know that our Christmas is a celebration of knowing that those self same families are safe, happy and being good to each other.  That’s all we wish for and that is what we want Santa to assure us with.  Our request is that being thought of is all the gift that we need and we really feel good when family members honor that.

    As Dennis and I ruminate over family members during the course of the year we keep our eyes and ears open.  We get the biggest bang out of doing for some that we hope will be surprised.  We can feel like Santa Claus!  

    At Megan and Nicholas’ home on Saturday after having enjoyed a good meal, the time went to visiting about what was going on in their schedules.  I could not keep up with it, I can tell you straight out.  It seemed ages ago when we could have either one of the two kids or both of them for a period of several days.  As soon as the kids hit school age, the trips to get them from Eden Prairie became less.  We never minded the miles on the highway, we were scoring time with the kids.  Carrie and Jeremy had just as many miles under their belts as we did.  Priceless.

    The afternoon was winding down when Megan came to me with a white bag.  “Grammie, this is from me to you.”  I was blown away and touched to the bottom of my Grammie heart.  Inside the bag was a ceramic rendition of a cloud factory.

    Meg's Clouds

    Megan’s Cloud Factory

      Believe me there is a story behind this:  Megan was born in a December.  The summer of the next year, Megan could come and stay  without a worry or a bother to her in getting homesick.  Granted, it is a long two hour drive when the little squirmy butt is tied down in a car seat with only mile after mile going by the window in the backseat of our car.  It wasn’t long in that summer that there were two and three word sentences coming from the backseat.  Cruising down Minnesota State Highway 60, out of the backseat came “Cloud factory!”  Dennis and I looked at each other.  “Look!  Cloud factory.”  Megan spotted the sky full of the steam billowing out of the stacks of the ethanol plant right out of Lake Crystal.  Well . . . from then on it was dubbed “The Cloud Factory.”  When Nicholas came along in their family and they would both be in the backseat coming to our home, you know he was tipped off when we were getting close to “The Cloud Factory.”

    Megan Lena turned 15 on December 2nd, which is my Mom Lena’s birthday.  Somewhere when her and her mom were out and about, there to her amazement was a cloud factory just meant to be found by Megan.  “The Cloud Factory” will be the most treasured “extra” in our home for as long as I live.  That little piece of ceramic can evoke more memories than a small library.  I took the card that was with it and the back of that card now has a synopsis of its special meaning.  I tucked that card in the hollow of ‘The Cloud Factory” for it to remain there forever.  Not to worry, I will be building my stash of memories that will involve everyone of my family for years to come.  Some of those memories when I share them, bring a light in their eyes of awareness.  It is in their library of memories as well.  Priceless!

     
  • Noreen 3:32 pm on December 17, 2018 Permalink
    Tags: Jake, ,   

    What a Treasure 

    Mike (Small)

    The UPS fellow dropped off a great delivery on Saturday. It was from my brother Michael’s daughter, Laura, and her husband, Jake.

     

    Michael had taken up Dad’s love of all things wood, complete with the sawmill on the farm. With the loss of Michael in November, 2018, the sawmill site became silent and perhaps not remain as such. On a visit since that time Laura and Jake had been back at the farm and revisited some of Michael’s haunts on the farm place. Picking up bits and pieces around the sawmill, Laura and Jake began hatching a plan.

    I grew up on the farm that Michael and JoAnn had made their home for 45 years. They knew that I would always refer to that as still my home, as from the age of five on this was “My home.” Michael and JoAnn allowed me that liberty.  Laura and Jake allowed me to have a piece of “My home” complete with all the character that Michael and the sawmill had created.  Looking at the clock I can almost hear and smell the saw blade cut through this piece of Black Walnut  leaving the markings for the life of what had been deemed discarded.  Not so!  This was and will always be special to me.

    This is why the trip to Mankato was essential to Dennis yesterday.  A shelf was in his wheel house for Michael’s clock to sit upon. He needed hardware brackets for a board he had found in our basement. I stayed out of the picture in total in regard to his staining of the wood to the point that he thought it was ready. This morning I had a chiropractor appointment as well as visiting the grocery store. The shelf project was Dennis’ in total, complete to where the clock and the shelf would be within our home.

    When I came home there was a bit of plaster on the floor and a few screws of various sizes on the kitchen counter.  The project had been completed.  Dennis admitted he was wore out.  My poor ole cowboy had worked far beyond his pay grade.  Multiple marks for screws on the board and also a few unused marks on the wall.  A trip to Fleet and Farm for the right screws and broken drill bit also was in his story.  Dennis’ first ever solo wood project and it was the frosting on the cake.

    A clock had been made with unconditional thought and love and a shelf put up out of inexperienced woodworking love for me.  I have said it before, life on Stauffer is sweet.  I am feeling pretty darn special.  The clock and Dennis are definitely treasures.

     
  • Noreen 3:46 pm on December 10, 2018 Permalink  

    There was Something Lurking 

    Over the last several days the sewing studio has really been finishing up some great projects.  It was a great feeling knowing that there were no UFOs, aka: unfinished projects. This morning I came down and was about to turn on all the lights when I felt something lurking.  I pushed the feeling aside.  I knew I had about 45 minutes before I would have to head upstairs and swap out the laundry from the washer to the dryer.  There was a pattern I had dug out to use some of my darker scraps for a scrappy quilt top.  The 45 minutes flew by and laundry was calling.

    My habit is to put the laundry in the dryer and then get out enough clothes hangers as to what the Red Shopping Baglaundry load required.  Getting the shirts out of the dryer and immediately hanging them up has just about done away with any pressing.  As I walked into the closet, the feeling of something lurking was strong . . . about as strong as sniffing a jug of vinegar.   And . . . there it was.

    A bright red shopping bag.  A bright red shopping bag that used to sit beside my favorite chair in years past.  A bright red shopping bag that got moved once upon a time to make room for a family gathering.  It got moved right into recesses of the closet.  The bag had sat next to my chair so each night I could crochet a block for a future afghan.   Each block was crocheted with a different pattern.  Where had the years gone?  I believe the moment I was patting myself on the back for having finished all of my started projects, the bright red shopping bag had an opening to get it to the forefront of my mind.  It had done the trick.

    Last Crohet

    Blocks of many patterns that have stood the test of time to be joined for a finished lap robe.

    I brought the bright red shopping bag down here into the sewing studio.  It was rather like opening a mysterious gift.  Sure enough.  There were 24 completed blocks.  Perhaps enough yarn in the bright red shopping bad to make just as many more.  It did make me sad.  Over the last five years, I have not been able to use my right wrist as I once had.  The orthopedic surgeon said the wrist is much like the cone for the ice cream, meaning the hand, to sit upon it.  My ice cream had slipped off of the cone.  I can do many things with my right wrist, just not as well as I used to.  I have learned to eat soup with my left land.  I have learned to use my left hand often when the right hand tells me “Sorry lady, not today.”

    We are not crying over spilled milk, or for that matter, yarn that may not be used for crocheting.  I fired up the steam iron and gave each precious block a bit of steam for them to be blocked.  I will weave the blocks together with the remaining yarn and it will make a wonderful lap robe.  That wonderful lap robe, less the bright red shopping bag, will be right next to my favorite chair.  In thinking about all the crocheting I have done since I was a young bride in Riesel Texas, I have nothing that I saved for myself . . . up until now.  Orlin had taught me to crochet after we were married, living in Riesel, Texas, to help me pass some time being so far from family.  Oh for great memories.  There will be no more feelings of lurking to be had.

     
  • Noreen 4:01 pm on November 29, 2018 Permalink  

    A Sunny Day Brings Much to Enjoy 

    Waking to full sunshine just speaks to what kind of day it is going to be. We had light snow off and on all yesterday afternoon. The driveway was completely white when I went to bed. This morning the snow glistened in the bright rays of the sun. When I toddled to the bathroom and looked out the east window, Dennis had the leaf blower going on the far east patio. Yup . . . in his PJs and slippers.  Go gettum cowboy!

    A Grammie can’t be rushed in the morning. There are things that need to be attended to right off the bat. After I had my paperwork done in the bathroom, I got on my jeans and flannel shirt, suiting up to help what I knew was Dennis’ intention . . . clearing the remaining patio and the 90′ driveway. After a bit even the electric leaf blower gets heavy.

    When we got done it was about ten in the forenoon.  It  seemed fitting that a bowl of oatmeal was needed. As I poodled around in the kitchen, my mind was right back to the farm in Boon Lake Township.

    It was usually ten in the forenoon when I could come into the house and stay for the morning with my part of the chores having been taken care of.  I am not sure how I managed to keep two wee ones busy in the house while I had helped Orlin with the barn chores . . .  much like what Dennis and I had just finished. Not a real good comparison, but thinking that the 50 years plus in between then and now . . . chores is chores and it rang true. It came to me in a flash: many, many trips back and forth from the barns to the house.

    Channel two had children’s programs for most of the morning. Carrie with puzzles to work on, could be counted on to not venture far from Kevin who was in his playpen, or from the screen soaking up what Mr. Rogers was doing. Kevin couldn’t get out and neither could Carrie lift him out of the play pen.  We couldn’t go wrong with Cheerios as the snack of choice for either of them.  There may even had to be a diaper change in between the the chicken barn chores and the cow barn chores.  It was all taken in stride.  Neither of my two children were ever out of my reach for more than a few minutes at a time.  The best part of the late morning was me shutting off the babysitter, aka: television.  With favorite blankets in hand we headed for a rocking chair that had been Grandma Schafer’s.  Both kids on my lap we read stories.  The chair had been an overstuffed chair that had been made into a rocker.  We had room for the three of us with room to spare for favorite stuffed animals and plenty of books.  Kevin generally had snuggled in so deep, sleep was his worst enemy.  It didn’t matter if he was sleeping, Carrie and I read on until she got squiggly and wanted to play with her dolls.   

    Could all these wonderful warm memories have been decades ago?  They are as fresh as that glistening snow had been on the driveway.  The oatmeal was good that Dennis and I shared.  The snow on the driveway is gone.  My memories are never gone, just resting in the back of my mind ready to spring forward in a heartbeat, keeping me company or flooding in when least expected. I love that.  As I grow older, I know I may be alone once in awhile bit I will never be lonely.

     
c
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