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Noreen 3:35 am on November 28, 2014 Permalink

My Life As I Had Known It – Interrupted
Oh, by the way, Happy Thanksgiving! Perhaps more so, on this day than others, I am thankful for the life I have enjoyed since retirement, almost six years ago. I need to go back a bite, almost 45 years back.

I had thought the absolute most wonderful life for my family was on the 160 acre farm where Carrie had been brought to before her first birthday, and where new born Kevin was brought to from the hospital. Wide open spaces with every type of farm animal imaginable that needed tending. Orlin was all about making use of everything the garden could produce. Carrie and Kevin helped stomp the sauerkraut and turning the wheel on the apple press for great apple juice to be canned. I had a tricked out sewing room in the basement, complete with a rug loom off to one side. We liked the idea of being self sustaining as much as possible.

Farming does not allow for fast rewards. It’s all about timing and planning to stretch the resources that the land and animals produce. There was no measure for dollars earned in relationship to hours invested. I did take on our township’s real estate assessment to earn $200 a year for the seasonal work. The first year I purchased a clothes dryer. Fantastic, no more hanging clothes outside to freeze dry. The second year I purchased a Sears electric sewing machine. Let’s hear it for the Model 1820, as I am still using it, albeit it is on its third motor. My family was just a few sections away in various directions, so there was no shortage of extra man power to trade off when needed.

One day, when Orlin came home and said he had passed the entrance interview for 3M in Hutchinson, it totally caught me off guard. In 1970, our world began to rotate on a different axle. 3M meant rotating shifts. Rotating shifts meant I would be doing the dairy milking and animal chores alone, once a day of the two time slots. In time, the dairy herd went by the way side. We farrowed pigs and took care of a flock of chickens. In 1973 our 160-acre farm was divided. Three different owners now enjoyed what had been the wonderful life I had envisioned for my family for years to come. There was no way that moving to an acre site could compare to the wide open spaces of the farm life. It is amazing what one can adapt to.

My Dad was a townboard official and he brought news that there were two more townships that were looking for an assessor during seasonal work. Times had changed and now there was a license needed to continue the work. Who else, but a Dad, would offer to attend multiple days and multiple locations of classes for me to achieve a license for what he saw as writing on the wall. I achieved the license and as we moved to three more additional locations, I found work using the license issued by the State of Minnesota.

Fast forward to 2009. I was able to hang up the tape measure and put the multiple math equations to rest. As it were, I had stayed at that third location that we had moved to. Orlin went on to seek what was on the end of his rainbow. The license that I had obtained to add dollars to a family budget sustained me through my entire working career.

The interruption to that quiet life that I loved on the f’arm, I have found right here on Stauffer Avenue. I know in my heart there are choices that I make in today’s world that are more reminiscent of the times on that wonderful farm. No big bells or whistles for me. I like making do with what is at hand. I don’t find myself needing to update the home that Dennis and I have made together. My earlier years; Dennis’ earlier years, this is our fantastic home.

Not too long ago, I spent time with Doreen and Judy and all three of us have or have had the same career. We have known each other long enough that both knew and had worked with Orlin when he was in the assessing field. We have shared a lot of life as it has effected each one of us. We each rambled about family, homes and life in general. I expressed the feeling that the life I had known had been interrupted by a need to earn a livelihood, via the State of Minnesota. My dream had been to be a farmer’s wife to the end. Doreen piped up and shared that her dream had been to get the heck off the farm and find someone with a job who was no way related to farming.

Life on Stauffer: pretty darn sweet.

The welcome mat is always out for those that choose to drop by. Recently we visited someone who had just purchased a newer, larger home for themselves. In reflecting on it: it’s a five bedroom home, their living room seats four in comfort and their dining area also seats four. Anyone who has visited our home knows that the furniture is pushed to the side and we can have six to eight people enjoy a meal with us. After the meal, the dishes are done, and the sit-down comfortable chairs are put back in place for conversation. Our home is small, our hearts are huge. No one goes home wanting. I have said it often: life on Stauffer is wonderful.

In life, please remember to give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.
Noreen 2:25 am on October 19, 2014 Permalink

Adventures on Stauffer
The Northen Red Oak puts on a great fall showing.

Yet another nice day given to us, so outside, here we come. Potted plants seem to avoid the first few frosts, but in time the colors wane and their prime time is past. When I began the work outside, my fingers were cold with the mid-40 degree temps. I had hoped the sun would have been there right from the start, but that took a bit before the fingers felt just enough air temperature difference when the sun did show itself to feel good. Sunshine makes this time of year the most beautiful possible. I truly love being outside. There are not enough colors in an artists pallet to copy Mother Nature.

There is no place safe from Butter Ball. He is the most curious cat Dennis and I have ever known. Honey Bunny is our first garage kitty, but she has had an attitude from day one: “Don’t pick me up and don’t expect me to sit on your lap . . . I’m not doing it.” Butter Ball is usually only one tail length from where the action is and ready to be petted. Yesterday when the fellow from the lumberyard was here and had used the six foot ladder to work on the garage opener, Butter Ball was on his hind feet with his front feet on the first rung of the ladder, ready to get in on the action. Big time nose problem is what that cat has. Come to think of it, his nose is always a bit smudged.

I have had bad luck with a concrete bird bath. In the spring, the black birds would clean their nests and drop the goodies into the bath. After that time of the year the algae was hard to control. The last several years I have put dirt in the top and planted my Hen and Chicks in it. They have very shallow roots and there is always a crown of green to enjoy. This time of the year, Dennis takes the top and nestles it in the flower garden so the leaves will cover it and protect the plants from freezing out. Dennis had no more set the bird bath top down and Butter Ball was in it with both front feet clawing at the cactus and soil. There was no stopping that kitten from playing in his next new toy. We finally had to cover it with a grate and it was laughable watching Butter Ball trying his darnedest to get at the soil.

My next best choice to get the cat waylaid was to head out to the far gardens and begin putting stakes in the ground to mark where the Hosta would be appearing next spring. The romping and stomping never quit until I did. The little fellow makes a great shadow.

A hard day of gardening calls for Butter Ball
to have a nap with his blue teddy bear.

There is a down side. Butter Ball follows us right up to the back door of the house and is brought up short when we get in the house and get the door closed before he can follow us in. I am sure this does puzzle him as he is right behind us any other time. Letting him in the house one time, knowing that we do not want a house cat, would be very cruel to Butter Ball when it would not be usual and customary. The garage porch is heated all winter with various chairs sporting cushions stuffed with odds and ends of quilt batting to curl up on. Dennis spends a lot of time in the porch watching TV or entertaining fellows as they talk shop about gun collecting. Butter Ball’s existence will be limited to the porch and will not lack for attention, warmth or food. I am just not ready to cat proof the home nor try to protect the home from those busy claws. As winter becomes serious, it will give Honey Bunny a chance to spend more time with Butter Ball. Right now they are normal siblings: Honey being the biggest and oldest, is swiping and hissing at the wee one. Honey Bunny will soon realize that this little nurtured Butter Ball may soon out-weigh him. Welcome to the real world.

In life, please remember to give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.
Noreen 3:55 am on October 1, 2014 Permalink

In cleaning out several items from the desk: In this week of 1968, at two and a half months old, Kevin had to be bundled up and slept in Carrie’s wagon and she (almost three), the big sister, watched over him. Grandpa Wendlandt was in the corn field chopping silage for our silo. I had to help Orlin line up the wagons for the chopped corn to be blown up into the silo. Though it only took me five minutes to help Orlin with each load, and the kids and the wagon not far from me, I could not chance the kids being in the house alone.
Noreen 12:53 am on September 25, 2014 Permalink

Let’s Take a Look
A time back in visiting with someone that has occasionally read my blog, they remarked how many of the stories were deeply steeped in memories of my parents and their lives: Raymond and Lena Wendlandt. I openly acknowledged that those years in my life are very vivid and easy for me to recall events. The reader went on to ask me if there were more to the stories than just memories: perhaps there had been something in my past that prevented me from moving on, perhaps something that I never found closer on. Hmm . . . let me think. Let’s take a look.

Raymond and Lena’s wedding day.

My Mother and Father were a hard working couple that literally started out with nothing. In about 1935 they had found each other as each of them had been hired by the same farmer to be hired hands. My Father was hired to work with livestock and the soil. My mother was hired to work with the household and garden chores. They owned their own personal clothing and nothing more and contended with the years during World War II.

Fast forward to 1949 and my parents, parents of four children, were buying their very own farm: 160 acres with 140 acres of crop land and a farm site of old buildings. My Mom and my Dad each came from farm-oriented large families and our Mom and Dad had pulled it together to be the first in either family to sign a deed telling the world they were working on buying their own farm. No more finding acreage to rent, realizing the rent money each year brought no security. Simply awesome. Assembling a modest herd of Holstein cows, several brood sows that would bring about litters of pigs, and a flock of chickens to make it a total farm. They worked as a team from morning to night with the belief and hope of making a good life for their family. Raymond and Lena made a wonderful quality of life for the family.

Growing up there were few extras in the way of material items. We had what was needed to be comfortable. All of us kids wore hand me downs, either from each other or cousins who were older, and the rest of the kids in the country school we went to wore the same quality. We never knew that we could want for more; we never knew there was more to want for. At the end of the day the six of us were safe, our stomachs were not growling for lack of food, our bodies were weary enough that sleep came fast on the four inch cotton mattresses each of us could call our own in shared bedrooms. Most of the Sunday School clothes was made by Mom. It was amazing how she could trick out the prints that came from the sacks of the chicken feed concentrate that Dad bought at the elevator. When Dad’s work shirts began to show wear, my sister Elvera and I were put to the task of taking the collars off so Mom could turn them over and sew them back on and look fresh.

As items wore out or broke down, they were not easily discarded. If there was any way to fix them or repurpose them, they lived to see another day. Dad had the ability to fix farm machinery that would run, not quite like new, but very close. Mom kept the farm home clean and fresh with more elbow grease than Elvera and I even knew we had. We had one upholstered piece of furniture in the living room and that sofa was covered six days out of seven. The floor always had clean rag rugs on the floor that made extra warmth for places to play on or to do school work on.

Raymond and Lena’s family: Elvera,
Noreen, Calvin and Michael

Our family, like most of the cousin’s families that we kept in contact with, did not have a lot of openly-shown affection. There was no “I love you” as we went up to bed. Hugs were few and far in between. How did I know I was loved? As a small child, when we would be visiting at one of the family gatherings and I got tired, I went to my Dad and he would lift me up on his lap and hold me close until I nodded off. If it wasn’t me, it perhaps was Calvin or Michael that would find that comfortable spot. Times such as those felt like the real deal: love. I can only imagine after a long day of farm work, his arms may have very well ached and could have very well done without the tight grip he held us with. When I would work beside my Mom stacking bales on the hayrack behind the baler that Elvera was driving we would take turns hefting up the high ones and giggled when we struggled. It would take more memory that my computer has to recall all the instances that had shown love during my childhood. We all worked together living the love of a family pulling together for the same end, making a home and a living.

In the heat of summer days and also in the heat of a moment there were harsh words that our parents had for us as we worked side by side. They knew what was needed for the task at hand, and by God, that is what was needed from us. No one ever carried it beyond that moment as we knew it was not anger in the words, it was the thought expressed at that instant and nothing beyond. No one held a grudge. We had not been brought up to wilt in the midst of interaction. Through it all, perhaps love was implied more than expressed. For me, I felt it 24/7. Self esteem grows from belief in self. As a child, and until I graduated and left home, I was being honed for life, life as an adult with enough of a tough skin to survive along with the family experiences that nurtured the heart.

I can’t recall how many times I may have fallen flat on my face after I left home and I know my parents were gracious and did not keep track. Decisions were made that I felt were in my best interests. Guess what? Some of them weren’t that great. Each time I chose to take the best of the situation to grow through it and save the best and leave the rest. By and large, the hurtful had no place for me as I trekked on. It would have been too heavy to carry day to day. As a descendant of “the old Adam,” my bias may not have recalled the event clearly and accurately, so why allow it any part of me? Hmm . . . Megan’s movie “Let it Go” comes to mind.

My parents, in their wisdom, focused on the here and now as all four of us kids became our own person. The four of us kids coming together with our parents, one on one, or in a gathering, met as adults. The four of us siblings had children of our own to parent and Raymond and Lena were in the midst of taking care and maintaining a quality of life that kept them independent. Torches had been passed.

Being an adult it felt so right as I left from a visit of seeing my parents that I would not leave without giving hugs. The first times, I could feel my Dad stiffen up. As time went on, it was not just my arms reaching out to hug, his arms were there for me to feel that warmth, that strength and that love that I had always felt. Living it was more powerful than any words that than can be spoken.

So, to the person that may believe I have hidden issues from my childhood, I can say “No, nothing hidden, nothing lacking closure.” I had the most wonderful, simplistic, caring childhood any child would be blessed to have. No bells and whistles, just everyday living a real life with real people that felt comfortable enough with each other to tell it the way it was. I think one of my Dad’s favorite sayings was “You’ll know where the bear did it in the Buckwheat.” There may not have been a lot of “kissy face, huggy bear,” but then you didn’t have to wonder if you had misinterpreted anything that was told to you.

Orlin and Noreen on their wedding day.

Orlin came from a background much like mine. Orlin and I parented with more evident emotional love and support to Carrie and Kevin than the generation before. Would each of our children think it was enough? I know I can comfortably say that both of us gave all to our children, and now as the only parent for Carrie and Kevin, I give all that I have. Believe me, that love and support is from the real me. Me . . . The Mom that speaks English and Blunt. The old adage of “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” comes to mind. Words do have a sting, but how long we allow that sting to remain is an individual choice. The stings of the past can’t be brought up and rehashed as that instance and all of the circumstances of that moment are gone and there is no way it can be re-crated to give it credence. I can tell you, I am more on the lookout of those things that may physically hurt me and cause me to no longer enjoy the life I worked very hard to have. It’s all about choices.

My choice is to love like there won’t be a tomorrow. The option that anyone in my world may want to deny that — that’s not in the equation, it goes with them . My love and support may not be heard in words, it may not be physically felt, it’s there 24/7 and there are no buttons needed to be pushed, there is not an expiration date and there is no chance that it could be depleted.

In life, please remember to give and have no remembrance of it, or take and remember it always.
Noreen 1:00 am on September 16, 2014 Permalink

I Like It – I Like It a Lot
On the spur of the moment Dennis headed for Silver Bay yesterday, the 14th of September. Dennis helps his nephew in many ways being the “go for” fellow for Brett’s concrete business here in St. James. The schedule allowed for the whole concrete crew to head for Silver Bay to put in a concrete driveway for one of the workers, Tim. Free labor, but I am sure the materials were still quite expensive. Tim just happens to be Dennis’ son-in-law. Daughter Sue and Tim have lived in Silver Bay for many years, but employment is hard to come by. Tim comes here seasonally and works the “crete” business.

All that being said I decided to do a bit of fall cleaning, starting in the bathroom. With the stackable washer and dryer being in the bathroom, there is no shortage of lint and extra stuff from sorting laundry. As careful as we can be, it’s not surprising to find grass clippings caught in the clothes that needs laundry. With my long handles on the Swiffer Dusters I can wrangled my way behind the washer and under it. Dennis would be proud of me as I got the cover off of the ceiling exhaust fan as well as getting it back on. Didn’t even chip a fingernail.

The old bathroom with the tub
and toilet sill in place. To think the sink
was under the light fixture.

I feel I am the luckiest person in the world to have the nice bathroom I do have. Kevin totally redid the east end of our home in the late 1990s. It all started with me asking him to put a smaller sink into the existing bathroom. We had had enough of resting our arm on the edge of the sink while sitting on the toilet. Oh my gosh, it started a huge project that took many, many weekends. It was in the fall of the year and Dennis took advantage of a lot of weekend gun shows and left “stage right” to be out of the mix and mess.

Dennis and I both knew that this home of Stauffer Avenue was the last destination, God willing, for the two of us in regard to a home. I know I can speak for Dennis when I say that we had both experienced enough in life to know that the size of the home does not bring happiness. Is it large enough for huge family gatherings to sprawl out? Yes! The several times of the year that we enjoy sit down meals with family, brings total satisfaction to the people that count . . . Dennis and me. We have plans in place for such events. All furniture in our home can be slid to the side for the short time of a meal. The leaves on the table can be pulled out and no one needs to eat off plates balance on their laps. When that has happened in homes that we have visited, it never took away from the reason for the day: bringing family together to laugh, share and feel blessed that we could get together.

Tub on the left, toilet and washer and
dryer to the right. Just perfect.

Today, as I was in the throngs of cleaning the bathroom, I still marvel that I have the remodeled bathroom that we have. Kevin was thinking ahead to a time when going into the basement would be less than safe. The bathroom was completed with a higher toilet and a three foot door that would be large enough for a wheelchair or a walker with easy entry.

In the years of working as a real estate appraiser, I can’t recall how many older home, occupied by older people, I visited that had been updated. More times than not the update had not allowed for moving the washer and dryer to the first floor. Some of those updated bathrooms that I had viewed had not even allowed for enough room to put in a handicapped height stool. Gutting our area out from stem to stern allowed for all the ease of enjoying our home for a long time.

Little did Kevin or I realize I would be in need of all the amenities of this new bathroom within a few years. When I had both knees replaced there was no hardship to endure with mobility going in or out of the bathroom. Toting a walker for weeks on end, I was able to keep up with our laundry without breaking a sweat. When I say, “I like it, I like it a lot,” it is no exaggeration. Being comfortable in our home is the peace that passes all understanding. Being comfortable in our home that came about from having Kevin taking care in the tiniest degree of construction for all aspects of the remodel, priceless. Having said that, I know I could never totally trust hiring someone to take that much care to detail.

In sharing this story and others of mine, when I close with “In life, please remember to give and have no remembrance of it, or take and remember it always”, I will always remember what Kevin’s labor gave to our quality of life.
Noreen 2:05 am on September 11, 2014 Permalink

A New Addition to Stauffer – Part 2
We did pay the ransom for Butter Ball at the vet clinic. Not a peep out of him all the way home. In times past when it was Honey Bunny’s time in the carrier, she bawled all the way to the clinic and all the way home.

Butter Ball is ready to
take on the world.

Just as predicted, the carrier was opened and the cat did scat. Not hide nor hair to be seen or heard of. We left well enough alone as I know the entire procedure and adventure must have been frightening.

Dennis went out to the garage porch after supper and out of the depths of the garage Butter Ball appeared. The gal at the clinic made us aware that Butter Ball would be quite immobile for perhaps the rest of the day. Yeah, right. He was on the go almost as if experiencing a medicinal high. In days before, Dennis has rescued a tray of garden bulbs that would soon be planted that Butter Ball has also discovered and the tray was put up quite high. Apparently one had succumbed to the playful cat and that was now the center of attention as Butter Ball batted the bulb every which way. We can attest that the medical procedure did not squelch Butter Ball’s enthusiasm.

Honey Bunny still does the hiss as she walks by Butter Ball to affirm her being the boss.

Life on Stauffer is back on track.
Noreen 2:41 am on September 10, 2014 Permalink

A New Addition to Stauffer – Part 1
Living on the outskirts of town allows for very quiet backyards. Over time Dennis had noticed some stray cats that would come by to check us out. After he began putting out cat food, they regularly came by for nourishment. In the heart of winter the trail from the east would be evident as they found their way to our patio for food and water from the heated water dish. They had been on their own for so long this was their port in the storm. Appreciative as the cats are for food and water, they have never let us get near enough to touch them.

This spring one of the stray cats that was prone to hanging out in our lilacs brought her kittens to our patio. She must have known the four kittens were more than she herself could take care of. We had no idea where she had birthed them. As quickly as they appeared on our patio for food and water, they would disappear for the day or days. As hard as we would try the kittens refused to have anything to do with us. As sad as it was, the family of four kittens diminished to a family of one. The mother cat continued to come and go with just the single kitten. Dennis noticed that when the kitten became engrossed in playing in the flowers, the mother would take her leave. This began to be a frequent event. She was giving notice that the “mothering days” was over.

Day after day Dennis would take time to sit on the patio with ends of rope and try to entice the kitten to interact. Sure enough, the cat whisperer was making headways. One of the doors into the garage porch was left open during the day to see just how curious this kitten would be. We never made any attempt to catch it or chase it. What I didn’t know was that Dennis had put a rug on the floor of the car garage in the event the kitten would wander in and feel safe in the darkness of the garage that is connected to the porch.

I am the last to rise in the mornings. I am barely awake as I stumble out to the garage porch with coffee cup in hand. Not long ago, as I was heading to my rocking chair in the porch to join Dennis, he motioned me with his finger to his lips to peek into the garage. There on the rug was this little yellow ball of fur curled up, napping. Precious.

We have Honey Bunny as a garage cat. Honey Bunny was a kitten brought to our patio from a stray mama cat. She is now four years old and very territorial. We had no idea how it would sit with Honey Bunny to have company in the porch. We decided to let things play out on their own. Honey Bunny comes and goes from the porch into the gardens at will. We never had any intention to keep the cat penned up and when she had her visit to the vet for shots and to be spayed the claws remained so she could protect herself. Usually Honey Bunny heads for home at night to sleep in her favorite box, which is above the Ford pickup on the rafters.

It didn’t take long and the sun beckoned the little kitten to sleep in one of the chairs in the porch. When Honey Bunny strolled in there was hissing and a few howls. The kitten scattered and hid in the garage but never ran outside to run away.

No longer the frightened little kitten, Butter Ball has
flourished and he loves the garage porch.

The little kitten is now Butter Ball. Dennis tied a little play fur mouse to an end of string and Butter Ball loves to play with it. Slowly, but totally determined, Dennis has won the heart of his little guy. Butter Ball loves to have his back brushed . . . with Honey Bunny’s brush. One of the screened patio doors is always left ajar and now we have two cats that come and go at will. Butter Ball spends a lot of time in the porch sprawled on any of the chairs as if reminding Honey Bunny just how nice the lifestyle in the porch is.

This morning at eight, Butter Ball was delivered to the vet’s clinic. I played the bad cop of putting her into a carrier. I didn’t want Butter Ball to equate this event to his buddy, Dennis. Butter Ball will have all the necessary shots and be neutered to enjoy a wonderful life here on Stauffer. I think I can safely say a life of leisure in the garage porch with Honey Bunny. Their relationship is mellowing. After all, who is the adult animal caregiver here? Suck it up Honey Bunny.

The mama cat still comes and goes for food and water. She has been visiting us for three years and she may never warm up to us to allow us to touch her. If she did, she also would visit the vet’s clinic. It saddens me to see her carrying kittens when she herself was just a mere kitten when she had her first litter.

At three this afternoon we will go and bring Butter Ball home. I know from previous visits that Honey Bunny has had at the vet’s clinic, the carrier will be opened and the cat will scat and hide from the fright of being in the carrier for a car ride and the procedures at the clinic. More info will follow on Butter Ball and the days here on Stauffer.

In life, please remember to give and have no remembrance of it, or take and remember it always.
Noreen 2:40 am on August 3, 2014 Permalink
Tags: JoAnn ( 2 ), Lena ( 6 ), Michael ( 11 ), Raymond ( 4 )

And Thanks Went Heaven Bound
Yesterday I received a phone call from my brother Michael. He was calling me from the swing on his porch having coffee. Is that really a cause for prayers? It really is. For the first time since the middle of April he was able to swallow a liquid. Michael was diagnosed with esophageal cancer in January of 2014. The radiation and chemo treatment began and so did the waiting game for my brother and his family. It was the surgery that needed to take place after the chemo and radiation that became a “wait and see” for possible recovery.

There is no need to do medical terms to high heaven. The radiation burned his throat but still allowed for drinking and nourishment even though he could not taste anything. From April until this last week Michael could not swallow anything, even his own saliva. This next week he will able to have the feeding tube removed and soft foods will be totally enjoyed.

I realize that members of my family have had TIAs (light strokes with little to no after effects), full blown strokes with definite life long effects, breast cancer and uterine cancer. I am not making light of those family members and what they endured. Thankfully those family members received timely help and have gone on with regular visits to make sure there is no recurrence. No, there are no guarantees for any of those family members. Prayers of blessings that those with cancer are, for now, free of cancer. In the case of strokes, each day is watchful with the lifestyle they live.

The survival rate for esophageal cancer is slim as the cancer moves quickly to the brain or elsewhere. It does take both of my hands to count acquaintances that Dennis and I have lost to esophageal cancer. I know Michael will regain the excessive weight loss in time to come. His energy will revive itself slowly as he putters around the farmyard. A huge part of the recovery he has had to this point is a wife with a surgical career. JoAnn was on alert 24/7 and picked up on the slightest of abnormalities. I am sure their vehicle could find itself to Rochester much like a radio-controlled car.

Today is just a day of good feelings knowing that Raymond and Lena’s family still has a head count of four children to be there for their children and their grandchildren. Speaking as one of those four, I love my life knowing that my three siblings are just a phone call or an email away.

In life, please give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.
Noreen 3:19 am on July 25, 2014 Permalink

To Pitch or to Save
To pitch or to save . . . that is the question? The cleaning and organization of the sewing and craft area has continued and it has slowed down considerably as there are some tough decisions that need to be made.

Aunt Florence’s Tri-Chem oil fabric paints

As mother-in-law Esther Schafer did fabric painting, so also did my Aunt Florence from my mother’s side of the family. When Aunt Florence and Uncle Norman (the Reibe Uncle that played the concertina) visited, it was always a show and tell from Florence as she was quite crafty. Norman was my Christian sponsor and we kept in fairly close contact while Orlin and I were farming. Their daughter Judy came and spent time during a summer so I could help her with garment sewing projects. Carrie and Kevin were quite young and easily entertained while Judy and I sewed.

In time to come after Norman had passed, Florence lived in an apartment in Litchfield and her fabric painting was a hobby that she spent a great deal of time on. Many years ago on a cold New Year’s Day, Mom and I called on Florence for an afternoon coffee. It never crossed my mind that when we left I would be leaving with all of her fabric painting supplies. Florence could no longer enjoy the hobby and she passed it to me. I had no idea if I would take up the painting but I excepted the gift that brought her so much joy.

Here I am years later and the fabric oil paints have become one of the last items to be dealt with in the organization of my haven. I went online and the company is still in existence that markets the fabric paints. In reading about them online it is known that the oil paint remains in good stead, but the ball point tips may be dried out from nonuse or not being cleaned at the last time of use. I dug into the supply of repair items and sure enough, if the tips are replaced, the paint is very use able.

I had dabbled with fabric paints in the 1960s. As late as this last spring a Tri-Chem painted quilt top I had done from that era was finished into a very lovely quilt, ready to be enjoyed. The Sun Bonnet Sue painted top had been in storage long enough. It needed to be finished so it could be enjoyed in time to come by someone that needed a bright quilt.

So I have decided that I will spend the time getting the paint tubes ready for use by installing new tips, and who knows what will be produced from them? Esther did dish towels with paints rather than embroidering everything. Florence produced a variety of table linens and place mats and I have a finished quilt – all via the oil paints. It is, for a sure, a “save.”

My fall and winter calendar is going to need scheduling in order for me to split my time with oil paints, piecing quilts, quilted wall hanging, counted cross stitch, crocheting bookmarks and afghans and knitting dish rags. Maybe I can con Dennis into helping out either with the sewing room or the domestic side of Stauffer Avenue. Dennis already takes over the kitchen after our meals are finished and I don’t want to burn him out. We will have to see. Needless to say, I will not have a problem staying busy, and it will bring out the peace that passes all understanding.

In life, please remember to give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.
Noreen 5:03 am on July 11, 2014 Permalink

Nothing Like Getting Lost . . .
. . . in my own home. More specific, in my basement. I went down to shop for an item from our pantry in the basement. It’s just the handiest to have extra supplies on hand rather than having to make a trip to the grocery store for an item or two. The pantry used to be the cistern that held a supply of water from a well that was on the property. Dennis and his cousin, Bruce, via a jack hammer, created this nook than has become our pantry that could very well feed an entire family if need be.

With the pantry item in hand I stopped to put a few sewing items away that were laying on the table. Our 4-H gal’s project that we had been working on for the last month was finished and the tidying up had not as yet happened. I will add that last night at the 4-H style review her project took several well-deserved ribbons and awards as well as Reserved Grand Champion. Minnesota State Fair here she comes. Smiles all around.

As I put the sewing items away I noticed a thick folder that held some of my Mom’s quilt patterns. I pulled it off of the shelf and sat down at my sewing table. Here were her hand drawn patterns along with the fabric samples. I looked. I touched. I wiped a tear. My Mom. My hero. So much of my adult life’s skills are from her tutelage. The entire time a sewing project was under way with Mom, came the lessons of managing to have more than one iron in the fire, whether it was keeping tabs on something in the oven or dashing out to the clothes line when a rain shower popped up. There was never a sewing challenge that left Mom stumped. Patterns were cut out of sheets of the Hutchinson Leader newspaper if an alteration was needed. Her fingers that had become thick with arthritis could wheel those little stickpins just as if they were an extension of her own fingers. Priceless. Reluctantly I put the folder back in good order. I liked the feeling of calm I had from that folder and it just seemed the natural thing to wander further into my stashes of patterns and fabrics. Remembering the quilts that had left a few odds and ends of fabrics from each of the projects. The end result: I need to work up a scrappy happy quilt to use up the wonderful colorful bits of fabric that were left from the larger projects. Mom would agree.

It was a good thing Dennis was on the ball and decided to start the grill as supper time was right around the corner. I had spent the entire afternoon lost in my wonderful world of scraps, threads and more memories than I had expected. After I had come up from the basement to put the finishing touches on the supper table, I very well had to go back down to the basement for that pantry item that started all of this. All of this? It brought about the peace that passes all understanding.

In life, please remember to give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.