Musings

It's been a tough year for our families.  Thankfully, at least according to the calendar, it's drawing to a close.

We each have some unfinished business but, voices are steadier.  

Outlooks are changing.  Plans are taking shape.

It seems as though the worst is passed.

I hope so - for all of us.

Today the sun is shining.  I do love winter's sunshine.

In the interest of fresh starts, there are four new stockings

hung by the chimney with care.

Have I mentioned how much I enjoy the fireplace?

Next week I'll put a package in the mail for Jacob and Amy, in Portland.

I'll head to Minneapolis for a few days with Naphtali and Aidan.

The semester will end.

Plans will be finalized for family gatherings over Christmas.

In a few short weeks, projects around the house will be finished and

family that can, will gather - somewhere.

Snow will probably fall.

Each of us will deal with the times and our circumstances
as best we can.

We'll talk - compare notes - listen.

I imagine we'll hum snippets of Christmas carols, bake cookies, wrap packages and

enjoy the winter's sunshine.

Can you believe it!?

We've all become accustomed to watching gas prices rise as a holiday weekend approaches. 

 Starting around $3.17 - gas prices fell all week. 

Gas was $2.99 on Friday night 

making the trip

 over the river and through the woods a bit easier this year.
I went up to Fort Dodge to spend Thanksgiving with my mother and sister, as Tim was working.
The day was mild.
The food was great and we found plenty to laugh about during the visit.

kindly thoughts

Wherever you might be, 

with whomever you're sharing the day,

I trust your heart is full

and at peace.

Enjoy a day of giving thanks.

And another...

I've recently been enamored by the process of waxing - coating leaves etc with varying layers of paraffin.

There is a narrow window of time as the wax cools to a certain viscosity
for optimum coverage.  It's rather fun.   

This would traditionally have been the time for starting my gingerbread house, but this year I'll miss 

out on the display held at my library in Nebraska. 

Lucky for me, my new, local library is offering folks a chance to decorate wreaths, which will then be available at a silent auction as a fund raiser for the new building project.

So I brought home a wreath, and using waxed components for a subdued wintry-look, decorated it.

 Some subtle glittery paint adds to the frosty sparkle.  At least I think it does.

Tomorrow it will return to the library for display until time for the community auction 

on December 4.

Now that I've conquered my fear of bow making maybe this will become a new tradition.

projects

This is a picture of just one of yesterday's projects. 

I painted the trim for the bathroom.

 Notice the dog.  

Notice, too, the large box in the background.

That box is the reason I cancelled a visit from my mother.

It contains our new toilet.

Plans had been made many weeks ago for my mother to come for some shopping on Sunday, overnight, and enjoy a leisurely couple stops before she headed home on Monday.  

It would have been fun.

The bathroom project was begun weeks ago after she and I made our plans.

The simple paint job took on a life of its own it becomes problematic to have overnight company with no public bathroom

and I'm still waiting to reclaim my bathroom.

Today I have a last coat of sealant to apply to the tile floor which turned out very well.  

I need to get a water line for the toilet, which has been set.

The trim has yet to go around the edges of the floor but it's been painted.  

There are hooks and knobs to be put in their respective places.

Doors to be returned to their hinges.

We'll get there.

Here's a picture of an earlier step in the process:

I'm scraping off the old flooring.

Turned around to stretch and look who's camped in the three feet of space behind me!?!

We'll get there.

Today's special

A busy couple weeks, all in all.  

Projects to the left.  Projects to the right. Projects inside and out.

 Ideas percolating for yet more projects.

I've been scraping flooring from the floor.  Painting.  Rearranging closets.  Assembling shelves.

Getting Aidan's countdown to Christmas ready.

Tracking Jacob's recovery.  Baking.  

Here's a glimpse of a recent well not so recent project to carry you over til I can get 

my head above water with all the rest.

I love yes love interesting containers.  I'll admit a weakness when it looks me in the eye.

Several more than several years ago Naphtali and I found a sidewalk sale at a local mall.  I picked up

a box containing 6 dozen bells for around 2 bucks.  

It was the box I wanted.

True - I have used and enjoyed the bells for a variety of reasons.  They have been decorations, adorned packages and they even hang from the doorknob for Charlie to signal his need to go out.

This summer I decided the three levels of divided trays would make a perfect home for my pins and earrings.

They dividers were removed, the trays lined with black velvet, and the dividers replaced.

Ribbon loops were added to assist lifting the trays.

The Christmas lettering had to be covered in a way that would allow them to look good

on my bedside table.  That would take some thought...

Actually, I did the inside while I was still in Gothenburg.  It wasn't until I was settled here that I tackled the outside of the box.

Glue gun and buttons to the rescue.

Tim bought that glue gun when we lived in Fargo. It was a surprise - thought you might like this kind of thing. 1983 maybe. 

 It is one of the early, unsafe, 

metal, push-the-glue-stick-through-with-your-thumb models that have long since been replaced 

by safe, plastic, trigger-operated low-temp models.
I love it.  

Have I mentioned that I also like buttons?

I've carted that jar from one place to the next over 30+ years.
Some sorting.  Some gluing.
An audiobook to keep me company...

                                                                       et voila!

Finished product. 

I like it.

I'll be back with more, later.

Birthday greetings

I know it's unusual to see a second post on the same day but this one was prompted by the events of the day.
Read on:










In January, 1988, our oldest daughter, Naomi, died.  

She was 11. 

 We were heartbroken.

April of that same year saw us moving to Pennsylvania.

We found heart's ease and good friends.

We learned how to function as a family of four.

We experimented with small cars.  There were impromptu picnics.  The night of the fireflies.

And laughter.  Much laughter.

November of that first year rolled around and hoping to avoid some unwanted attention - thinking it was no big deal - I had opted not to add my name to the "Birthday Calendar" that hung in the entry of our church.  Big mistake.

Rob Smith was song leader that day.  Even in those few short months, Rob and his family were already our solid friends and I knew of his well-earned reputation for practical jokes.  It's tempting to call him "larger than life."  He was - and is - a brash, loud, outdoorsy, self-confident ham.  He's also a generous, helpful, multi-talented, kind man.  The grand kids call him Pap.
He is a friend.  And we share a birthday.

  He is a year older, and already much grayer, than me.

So that day he launches into a hilarious routine about twins  - his twin - separated at birth but still sharing personality traits, looks, sense of humor and so on, and on and on and everyone, everyone, knows there will be a punch line. So people are already chuckling and some are looking around to 

figure out who is about to be punched.

We are sitting in our customary back row and I am dying.  Dying. 

I know it only took a few minutes but from my vantage point it was an eternity before he wrapped it up with "Let's sing Happy Birthday to Ilona!" 

The whole place erupted!  

I don't know how he got through it with a straight face!

I had an email from him this morning - with birthday greetings, which I am happy to return.

Happy Birthday Pap.

What goes around

 Trick-or-Treat!  We all have stories to tell!

Knowing I would need to be near the door last night I used the time to cut some pieces for the quilt I'm building.

I also worked on an craft idea I found in this year's Christmas with Southern Living book.
This one is an oldie-but-goodie, having made the rounds when I was a kid.  You remember the folded magazine angels and trees?  The trees are back this year.  The angels can't be too far behind...

I made an angel in Girl Scouts one year using cheese cloth, a styrofoam ball, Readers Digest, wire hanger,

 and gold spray paint.  

This is my first tree.  I'll need three, in varying sizes.

 Haven't decided if they will be gold, just glittered, or a combination of gaudy Christmas excess.  

The view from my window

Guess who?

We had another round of company this weekend.

  Although I'm beginning to think that Naphtali, Aidan and Proton should no longer qualify as company.

Truly, they are wanted and welcome any time.

Here's Proton playing with a craft project I tried out the other night: 

an ice votive.

It worked and I can't wait to make more. 

Shhh - Christmas plans.

Here's a picture of coordinated effort - Jordison style.

I pulled up the old floor and did some patching.  Naphtali a talented and hard-working woman did the painting.  

Tim helped with the painting and laid the new floor.

It looks great. I love the floor.

The paint changes color with the day's light shifting from green to gray and back again.

Would you be surprised to learn that there are several other projects in progress?

You'll have to check back to see what's happening.

Inquiring minds want to know

Naphtali asks if there are bows all over my house - now that I have learned to make them

The answer to that can be summed up in one word - no.  

But it is time to get busy on certain projects around the house.  This week - no bows -  I did make an afghan.  

 It's hard to think I've been living here less than 2 months.  And with the push to get Kennybrook up and running, a family wedding, several rounds of company, and an extra dog for a couple weeks, 

we've put off getting a start on any big projects.

That time has ended.

So here is a glimpse of how the house does look:

We are in the middle of a remodel.  New floor and paint for this room.  Plus a closet has been removed.  I had things torn apart - though not quite this torn apart -on Friday when my SIL called and asked if we would host a sibling get-together on Saturday - if she could get the others to sign on.  

Bien sur, I replied.  Well, I probably said "sure" or something like that, but for a post "bien sur" always sounds so much better. 

Sign on they did, so about noon on Saturday everything went back to its place.

No point in rearranging until I knew for sure they were coming, n'est-ce pas?

Tim cooked.  They arrived.  And we had a great time.

Sunday meant everything was moved again.  And somewhere in all this Naphtali called to say that she and Aidan might be down this weekend.  Might be.  

As of yesterday afternoon - will be.  

And we'll have a great time.

We - Tim - built our first fire Sunday night.

Product Placement

I love this cereal.

Last Hurrah

While walking Charlie the other day I noticed some lovely roses at the home of one of our neighbors, which prompted a discourse along these lines - you'll need to add the appropriate inflections to capture the full measure of wonder my thoughts produced -

Charlie!  I have a rose bush, too! We'll have to look when we get home - or something like that.

Guess what?

Three buds.  In various stages of open.  

They are now sitting on the counter and as this one has opened it has scented the air with the classic rose aroma.  The color, too, is classic: deep, velvety red.

In so many of the new hybrids scent has been sacrificed for hardiness, size or whatever.  

Standing here enjoying the full experience of form, color and aroma, I wonder why they ever 

tampered with the complete expression of grace and beauty that can be a rose.

As these will be the last of the season all I can do is plan, now, to take good care of this overlooked treasure.

True Story

I have a sad, but true story to pass along today.  

Actually, more like several vignettes.  I went to a wedding over the weekend
- without my camera.  I know, but it gets worse. 

So you'll find no pictures, here, of the happy couple.  Or Leslie looking wonderful in her dress.  

No record of the table settings or bouquets. 

 Family.  

Incomparable weather. 

 Nothing. 

 I thought of throwing in a picture of my shoes - which are both adorable and comfortable - but I wasn't in the mood for a sop.

Anyway.  The saga continues.  

Not only did I leave home without my camera for this stellar event
 - I left my spanx on the dresser.  I know.  

I had clothes for the dinner Friday night.  For hanging around Saturday morning. 

 Several Weather related  options for the wedding on Saturday afternoon,
 changes if we went out later,
something to drive home Sunday morning - 

but my spanx got left behind.  I know. 

 Of course I didn't discover this until I was out of the shower on Saturday, starting to get dressed. 

 I emptied my suitcase.
I put everything back and emptied it again,
lifting each item and shaking it to dislodge what was not there.  

How could this happen?!?  Aaargh!!

It is both unfortunate and 

I know everlastingly to my advantage 

that Naphtali suspected Aidan was developing strep throat.  

While my private drama was developing they Tim, Naphtali and Aidan were out in search of a drop-in clinic, 

which they found, and

  which confirmed Naphtali's excellent motherly intuition and 

got the lad started on an antibiotic. 

 In the mean time, Naphtali called me asking if I had heard from Leslie concerning the pew bows - 

bear with me that will be in the next paragraph - and 

I spilled my tale of woe.  "Well, I could pick you up a pair."  They were at Target. 

 Just that easily: another crisis averted.

So, back to the pew bows. 

 Over the years I have been acknowledged as competent, even skilled, I know at a variety of crafts. 

 But one crafting basic has consistently eluded me
 - making bows.  I know.  

So imagine my dismay, on Friday night, when a somewhat harried mother-of-the-groom 

asked if Naphtali and I would be willing to make 60 pew bows. 

I looked her in the eye and said the only thing I could:
"Of course.  No problem.  Glad to help."  I know.
Trusting all the while that my multi-talented daughter 

would be able to pick up the slack created by my two left thumbs. 

We got started Saturday morning at what I considered a leisurely hour and pace for 60 bows when Naphtali confessed 

that bows had never been her strong suit.  I Know! 

 But that revelation was counter balanced by the news that we only had to make 16 bows.  

With all the background noise I had misheard Leslie.  She needed 16 - not 60 - bows!
The bows were finished and made it to the church in time.
It was a lovely ceremony on a perfect, classic fall, October afternoon.
Aidan received the appropriate medical attention.
I was sufficiently cocooned in the new spanx.

You've been very patient  and I hope somewhat amused with this epic tale and here's the payoff:

I learned a new skill:  Bows are no longer my bete noir.
I know!  

Today I made this bow.

Who knows what I may make tomorrow!  
I Know!

You can thank me later

I have no trouble whatsoever taking credit for this lovely weather.
 Had I not changed to flannel sheets, the cold, damp, gloomy weather would have continued
and I would have shivered my nights away.

 But, well, you know what happened.
You can thank me later.

Follow-up

Aaah!  Met my expectations! 

 (check yesterday's post if this makes no sense to you)

Changing seasons

Talk to anyone and they will name a favorite fall ritual - tailgating at the game, visiting the local orchard, baking with seasonal produce, a walk through the woods, raking leaves; 

the possibilities are as varied as the changing leaves.

At our house the changing seasons means one thing: 




changing sheets 

google images

and involves what I have come to call musical blankets. 

You add a lighter blanket.
You exchange that for a heavier blanket.
 You put the flannel sheets on, which may require that you switch back to the lighter blanket.
 Eventually it will mean the flannel sheets and the heavier blanket.

We enjoyed having company this weekend and when I cleaned up I put the flannels on that bed in preparation for Naphtali and Aidan's visit at the end of this week.


Today I took advantage of Younker's Goodwill sale to buy a new set of flannel sheets for our bed. 
 They've been washed  
and are ready to go on our bed tomorrow.
  Monday is always my clean sheet day .  


Which means I can't wait to go to bed tomorrow night!

Ta Da!

Found it!

Mmmm - buttery soft leather.  

Roomy but not bulky.

No obtrusive logos or trademarks.
Mmmm.

As touching our children

Google images

Does anything elicit a stronger response than an incident in the lives of our children?

All those firsts - whether it was teeth, hair, school, sweetheart, car, job - they all take center stage 

for their one special moment.  And we rejoice for our child.

Then comes that time when age becomes inconsequential - we're all adults, right?

Wrong!  Oh, so, ever so, wrong!

They are our children and what touches them touches us.  

Of course, we love the happy times - weddings, babies, promotions -  you fill in the blank.  And we look at our children and hope that the happy times are all they will ever encounter.

  But there will be separations, disappointments, heartaches, illness, and worse.  It would, in fact, be easier to deal with those incidents if they were our own. 

 Anything, rather than watch as our children shoulder the pain.

  We can weep and rail. We can be strong and sensible.
 We can help put together a Plan B, but we can't make it go away. 

 We can't put things back they way they used to be, they way they were supposed to be.  And that,

 I think, will always be a parent's private hell.

Change of pace

On a beautiful morning, like today, or a mellow afternoon, you might find me out here complete with dogs, laptop, textbook and mechanical pencil.  

I love this time of year.