Me, Myself and Memories

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  Noreen 3:39 pm on November 16, 2022 Permalink  

  Glittery Snow 

  The fine snow coming down looks as though someone on high is shaking a container of glitter.  There is just enough sun shining that nothing is remaining on the concrete.

  Amid working with the pink fabric in the studio, I found myself needing a bit of early Christmas.  Tricking out a bit of the studio was just the ticket.  I have no idea what the large amount of heavy spike nails served as a purpose nailed in the floor joist overhead.  They are fairly consistently spaced in the width of the 2 x 6s.  Our home is over 100 years old, having then been moved from the rural township onto a basement here in town during the 50s. 

  My homesteading spirit can almost visualize mesh bags of carrots and onions hung to keep air circulating during the winter months.  Another thought that comes to mind is smoked summer sausage hung after a butchering of beef and pork.  It comes so easily to my mind as that is how my family did it seventy years ago in Renville County’s Boon Lake Township.

  Nontheless . . . today those heavy spikes were perfect to put up several cherry Christmas stitchings.  The embroidered hanging reminds me of a tapestry as it is so heavy.  At the time Dennis kept track of the stitching designs and it has over a million stitches within all the blocks.  It was done on a variety of flannels left over from a quilt I had made for Dennis.  The Santa log cabin pattern caught my eye in an older pattern book.  I printed the Victorian Santa images off of a CD onto fabric sheets fed into my color printer.  I really enjoyed that project.  In thinking about it . . . I just enjoy threads and fuzz.  My world would be quite small without challenging myself in the studio.  

  I know that spending time in the studio this winter, my spirits will be lifted just by the fact that glancing at these will bring fond memories. 

  Burger patties and beans are on the docket for supper.  When I checked the freezer this morning, the protein choices were slim to none.  Tomorrow while we are in Mankato, it will be the perfect time to pick up several small roasts for several crock pot meals.

   
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  Noreen 2:14 pm on September 26, 2022 Permalink  

  Local Effort Day 

  The studio is taking a back seat today from what I call, local effort day.

  Both beds needed fresh bedding.  Once the beds are stripped, out come the Swiffers.  It is my joy to do the floors with the dust collectors, aka:  Swiffers. 

  Years ago we did have carpeting in the bedrooms and living and dining rooms.  What a pain.  I knew there was more to the story than what the vacuum caught.  Heavy furniture stayed in place and the areas around them were vacuumed.  When the carpeting went by the wayside and the laminate was installed, it made all the difference in the world.  Felt pads went under all the heavy items in the house. 

  Dennis went for coffee with the fellows today.  Once the washing machine was going, it didn’t take me long to move some of the furnishings with very little muscle.  I do recall someone mentioning that Swiffers were not used in their home as they did have a bit of oil in the wipes.  Hello!  I remember Lena using an oil for her wool dust mop from the Fuller Brush salesman.  It was a deep red color and only a drop or two was needed to help pick up the dust bunnies.  I can use all the help I can get for a day such as was needed here on Stauffer Avenue today.  

  The lightweight sheets were done away with today and the flannel sheets are here for the duration of the cooler months.  As I was doing Dennis’ bed, I did check to see if the electric mattress pad was still working.  All systems go.

  I choose to sleep a bit on the cooler side of the thermostat.  Thus, no electric mattress pad for me.  My bedroom porch has three exterior walls with eight windows and no basement underneath.  My bedroom porch cannot help but be a bit cooler compared to Dennis’ bedroom having one exterior wall and a heated basement underneath.

  By Twelve noon, Dennis was home and I had the local effort done for the day.  Truth to tell, today’s local effort is all that I could handle.  I take my time with multiple coffee breaks and knock off a chapter or two in a book I am reading.  The satisfaction I get from a day such as I have had today . . . there are not enough words.  Isn’t that the wonder of living a balanced life?

  Tomorrow we find out what type of orthotic Dennis will need for his left foot to fill out a proper shoe.  We have come a long way.

   
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  Noreen 1:55 pm on September 19, 2022 Permalink  

  Hands in Pockets 

  Today is Monday.  There is a plan in place for our dead and dying lilacs to be taken down and out.  Yes, it was my idea.  With that being said, Dennis and his son Ken are in charge of pulling it off.  Me?  Stay in the house and mum is the word.  Keep my hands in my pockets and if I am needed, I will hear about it.  That’s hard for me.  Both of my kids know that about me and Dennis sure as heck does.

  My course of action is doing up the laundry.  In between time, I have a historical novel to read in my bedroom porch.  To get to my reading spot I need to pass by the ancient glider rocker.  My mother and dad had paid $3.50 for it from Montgomery Wards.  There was a time long ago that I was told to sit in this rocker and stay there until I was told I could get out.  That was about 72 years ago.

  At that time we lived one mile west of MN Hwy #15, several miles out of Winthrop.  It would have been winter months and it was butchering time.  Uncles and aunts made a day out of hog and beef butchering.  The cuts of the meat were not as important as it was getting it done, getting it wrapped and divided up.  Michael was six months old at this time.  Calvin would have been three and could stay out of the way by playing.  Michael needed tending.  With Michael sitting next to me in the glider rocker with a white dishtowel tying him to the back spindles, it was my job to keep him from wriggling and slipping out of from under the dishtowel.  I was told to stay put and not rock hard until such time he could either be put down for a nap or to be fed.  No talking.  I was as much a prisoner as Michael was. 

  This rocker has seen hard times.  There was a fad of painting furniture and applying a top coat to give it an antiqued look.  Hello!  Mom had given it a calf shit yellowed look.  At one time, Michael as an adult, had sat too far back in it and had broken one of the wooden braces.  That spot got a metal rod welded in to get it back up and rocking.  I offered mom to strip it down and allow the natural wood to shine through.  I think that was in the 80s.  The multiple spindles were not easy to strip.  In turn the rocker was given to me.  In and about 2005, I had Robert Sorenson, here in town,  shore up the bottom of the seat.  It was a thin veneer of wood.  At the time it was new, there was no telling how durable it would be to last decades.  The back of the top of the rocker had the same decorative veneer on it that the front had.  That was long gone.   Here I am all these 70 plus years, still dusting it and still cherishing it.  Sweet memories.

  Here I am putting myself as a prisoner in my own home, keeping my mouth shut with hands in my pockets to allow those that can to do the work of cutting down the lilacs.  Life long lessons still help.

   
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  Noreen 12:28 pm on September 16, 2022 Permalink  

  The End of the Five Days 

  Hello!  This is the earliest I have ever sat down during the day to put down thoughts.  Shh!  The house is quiet.  

  Dennis is on his way to the Sioux Falls airport to pick up his eldest child for a long weekend visit.  I know that the families from Silver Bay will be traveling here also.  It is a “come one, come all” type of weekend.  Everyone has a place to stay here and there about.  Our tiny home is off the hook.  It is a good time to get in Dennis’ family get together before the weather turns.  That may be here before we know it.

  The stitcher’s luncheon yesterday was informative on many levels.  Some have experienced Covid, after shots and boosters being had.  The degree of symptoms were varied.  We have one stitcher that travels and gives lessons in quilt shops.  She also is gearing up to participate as a vendor in several town’s events.  I applaud her for the vim and vigor.  I don’t know if the fact that she lives with a daughter, not having to be responsible for home and yard upkeep, enters in.  It works for her and the rest of the group gets to experience the wares that she has lined up. 

  This same trooper had taken in a class of table top weaving.  As I looked at her finished sample it took me right back to the Newcomb Fly Shuttle four harness rug loom that was such an integral part of our home for decades.  A “For Sale” ad had been answered in the Willmar area.  Wow.  My mom used a two harness loom in her basement.  My dad and Orlin made the trip.  We had an automatic instructor on how to set up this loom after having it been taken apart for the journey.  So many moving parts.

  Not only did they come home with the loom but also many prepared balls of cut rags ready to try it all out.  This lady had been ready to retire.  

  News traveled fast.  So many yards of rugs we wove.  It was not unusual to come home from work and find boxes of cut rolled rags with notes attached as to what length was desired.  $.10 an inch was the going rate.  Many orders for warp was sent in to Lima Ohio in various colors.  I still have several spools of the cotton warp.  Sweet memories. 

  The most significant memory of weaving in the farm house, was of the lady from Shakopee.  She had visited many thrift shops purchasing wool garments and coats of certain colors.  She had people that cut them into strips no wider than the size of what a wooden pencil would be when twisted.  Our loom could weave 42″ in width.  She wanted specific colors of warp that we sent for.  When we felt we had twelve feet in length woven, we would have to release the brakes and let the weaving relax.  More than likely more would be needed to weave.  The goal was to weave four such lengths in equal lengths.  When she picked them up, she had someone on board to weave the four lengths, side by side, together for a room sized rug using more of the same warp we had used for weaving.  That job was by far more than $.10 an inch.  It was jewel tones that were beautiful.

  When I heard the story that was shared yesterday of the table top loom, I could relate to the bug that was felt in the lure of weaving.  I also knew I had done that . . . been there! 

  Several of us just take in the energy of the luncheon and come away with a new appreciation how walks of life may be different, but the love of thread and fuzz literally ties us together.

  Once I have the laundry done, I may still have several hours of quiet left.  Sweet!

   
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  Noreen 2:19 pm on July 14, 2021 Permalink  

  An All Day Rain 

  This rain today is slow and being soaked up gently.  No chance of run-off.

  Sometimes there are things that niggle in the back of the mind.  Today was the day to act on it.  I had a phone number of a life-long friend.  I had no idea if it was still viable.

  When Orlin and I were striking out to farm we were new to Boon Lake Township as a family.  I had grown up on the family farm in the southern part of Boon Lake Township.  My friend Sharon’s parents lived in the northern part of Boon Lake Township.  Ironically, we both went to rural schools, just not the same one.  Both Sharon and I had acquaintances in common via neighborhood gathers, picnics and possibly 4-H.  

  Orlin was from Hector and Sharon’s husband, Ted, was from that same area.  The fellows had known of each other.  In the mid 60s Orlin and I were farming just a mile or so down the road where Ted and Sharon were farming.  So the acquaintances became a long-lasting friendship.  Ted and Sharon remained farmers . . . us not so much.

  Though the strands of friendship may have become fragile, there is enough strength meant to remain strong enough to go through decades.  Sharon now lives outside of the metro.  Ted and Orlin are no longer with us . . . but close in memories.  They only get sweeter with time.

  This morning the niggling got the best of me and I made the phone call.  Hmm.  We still sounded the same to each of us.  This will be just the first of contact between us.  We are both mobile and there may be a meeting point halfway for a true catchup.

  I felt a lift in my spirits after the call.  I went into the studio and whiled away several hours.  It bears the thought that sometimes in the depths of our hearts . . . we do know what we need.  All it takes is to keep the lines of communication between our brains and our bodies open and then act on it,  I know my body does not lie to me.

   
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  Noreen 8:06 am on July 4, 2021 Permalink  

  4th of July 2021 

  Oh my gosh for the 4th of July memories!  

  About 65 years ago, our farm chores started extra early.  There was to be a huge 4th of July boat parade on Lake Alley just several miles from us.  Everyone had signed up early that would want to participate.

  Dad had been busy during the winter months getting ready.  Dead built us a family friendly pontoon boat.  Fifty gallon drum barrels had been scrounged, saved and cleaned.  Sheet metal had been welded for the cones for the front of the boat.  A railing went around the majority of the decking with fine chicken wire strung tight.  Safe and secure.  We had taken the pontoon out quite often that spring to various lakes for early spring bullheads. 

  Our church’s Luther League decorated the boat for an entry, complete with a cross that Dad had built and mounted securely.  All of the decorating had been the day before by the leaguers and after chores we headed for the large pasture area on the south shore of the lake for the lineup.

  A small community with a lake that wasn’t spectacular, had over 30 entries from around the area.  Dad’s boat was the only one that could hold more people than most.  The shores of the lake to the south and west were packed with picnickers and campers.  All of the homes on the east side of the lake had groves of friends and families to take it in.  

  Hmm . . . memories.   The 4th has always been a time when a spot would be found for a picnic.  Until . . . July 4th, 1968, when the firecrackers brought a firecracker all of its own.  Kevin Michael Schafer was born in the Hutchinson Community hospital.

  Our farm in Boon Lake Township became the spot for the 4th of July celebrations in 1969 and going forward for a time.  The rolling lawns around the house had room for all the family members from the Schafer, Wendlandt and Riebe families.  Close neighbors joined in.  Kevin’s grandmother, Esther Schafer, played the harmonica and accompanied Norman Riebe on the concertinas.  Fun family times with lots of food, fun and laughter.

  Orlin had set up horse shoes, and a net for some birdies to take flight.  Nephew Frank gave rides in the wagon behind the rider lawn mower.  Something for everyone.   

  Over the decades, of course, the 4th of July never goes by that my memory lacks evoking decades of memories.  As birthdays are and can be personnel, the day is now given over to the one born on that day to enjoy it.  Kevin’s day to do and be what is enjoyed.  It is after all “Independence Day.”

  Today, on this 4th of July, these two older ones on Stauffer Avenue are having some patio sitting time before the forecasted heat of the day finds us.  Sweet day with much to enjoy during the quiet of the town where most have found a place to be.

   
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  Noreen 2:59 pm on May 16, 2021 Permalink  

  Too Nice 

  Today was too nice of a day to stay indoors.  While Dennis was still asleep this morning, I took a cup of coffee and sat in the early sun on the east patio.  Peaceful does not even begin to describe it.  The morning doves gave quite the serenade.  Looking to the far east of the acre, the Hackberry tree was alive with squirrels.  Early morning church bells could be heard at various intervals.

  There wasn’t a heavy agenda for us today.  There is always a load of laundry to start.  Push several buttons and it’s a go.  Oh so different than the wringer washing machine that Lena had.  A bar of lye soap along with Duz laundry powder as a length of hose filled the wash tub.  By the way, for a time, there was a dish inside each box with the hope of accumulating somewhat of a matched set.  A set of twin rinse tubs were on a rack that allowed the swivel of the wringer on the washing machine to go from wash tub to first rinse to second rinse.  Sorting of the clothes was paramount.  First batch was the delicates.  From there each batch progressed down to the work jeans and last were the rag rugs.  With a huge wash day, Lena would take out some of the machine’s water and add fresh as the loads took its toll on the color of the water.  Not like the laundry of today, where fresh water from a faucet treats each sorted load.  Aren’t we spoiled.

  We have been limping along with our suppers since the leftovers from Mother’s Day have been used up.  Tonight there is an Alfredo chicken pasta dish for our oven meal.  Yum.  We spent just enough time in the house to swap out the laundry and put the oven meal together.  I worked on raking out the dirt in what was the Koi pond and Dennis is giving some of our lawn chairs a fresh coat of paint.  I need to search the internet as we will be putting in one or two miniature shrubs into the new dirt.

  Always busy here on Stauffer.  It makes for a sweet life being stewards of more than either one of us could ever have anticipated.  Thanks be to God.

   
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  Noreen 2:44 pm on September 11, 2020 Permalink  

  Switching Plans 

  Who knew that the cool weather that was forecast would turn into a light mist mixed with a heavier mist.  Obviously the sticthers group that was to meet in an open part was canceled.  So much for plan A. 

  Dennis had come in earlier and felt like his day was also put on hold due to weather.  We decided to go online and get into Great Clips in Mankato for much needed haircuts.  We had 67 minutes before we would be called.  That worked out great.  Once there, we were told that online is no longer needed.  We could come in, find out what the wait time was and then perhaps run errands until such time.  That was good news for us.

  Our only other stop was the Mayo Store and then we high-tailed it for home.  No other needs to shop for.

  As we drove we met trucks hauling sweetcorn.  I am not sure where the plant would be to take care of it.  They were heading east.  In 1969 those sweetcorn trucks meant Christmas money for me and the family.  Now, as then, the weather was damp and cool.  Mom, myself and two other gals signed up to work the overnight shift for sweetcorn in Glencoe.  We would listen to the radio and see if our shift was to work and we car pooled.  During that season, Orlin and I worked to get a lot of the prep work done for the livestock in the late afternoon, so it didn’t cause the kids to be out near the barn any later than necessary.  It worked out that Orlin would be finishing up the cow barn chores when I had to leave.  Both Carrie and Kevin were with him somewhere close where he could keep an eye on them.  It’s amazing how well hay bales can make a play pen.

  We worked eight hour shifts or until the corn quit coming in for the night.  That rarely happened.  I started out working on the cream style corn line chopping out worms.  The conveyor belt kept the husked out cobs coming and I kept my knife swinging.  After several nights there was an opening on the huskers.  I signed up.  Outside the building the trucks would dump the corn straight off the field down shoots.  The shoot could be tightly packed from the weight that was pushing down.  The huskers pulled ears of corn out of the shoot and filled in a conveyor belt that had holes in them for the ears of corn to be put in, silk first.  There was one speed for that belt and the objective was to not let any holes go empty.  There was a bonus for the huskers that kept the belt full.  In the rainy weather the trucks never quit and the corn that came down those shoots were wet and sometimes muddy.  Come rain or shine when the Jolly Green Giant said it was sweetcorn packing time, there was no stopping until the last field was picked.

  I made good money that fall.  It was not the easiest on the family for the schedule, but we made it through.  I always hoped the kids were going down for the night easily.  I got home in the mornings just before the kids would be getting up.  I stuck my corn starched clothes in the washing machine for the next night and started breakfasts.   

  I do remember for that Christmas I bought Orlin a gun from Coast-to-Coast in Hutchinson.  I think that gun is still hanging in Kevin’s home.  So many Christmas seasons have come and gone and every once in awhile you see something like a sweetcorn truck on the highway and the memories come flooding back as if it were yesterday.  Sweet.

   
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  Noreen 2:21 pm on March 29, 2020 Permalink  

  Boon Lake Township – Part Two 

  Early months in 1966, Orlin and Dad were busy.  We were moved onto the farm in Boon Lake township.  The house was in great shape.  I kept busy taking each room at a time. Using some elbow grease, soap and water, spring cleaning was in full force.  Carrie was a good baby and with her in her plastic chair, she went wherever I was in the house or outside.  They didn’t have the cushy infant seats as they do now.  It virtually was a molded piece of plastic with a bit of a cushion in it.  With two grandmas there was no shortage of warm blankets. 

  With Dad’s help we had a line of credit at the Gibbon bank to get us going.  Dad and Orlin were busy going to farm auctions to purchase livestock.  The dairy barn on the place was in fair condition and the sale of the farm from the previous owners included all the milking equipment.  We started out with ten milk cows and eventually filled the barn to its capacity of eighteen.  There was one empty calf pen in the barn.  The sales barn in Hutchinson was visited by Dad and Orlin to purchase hay to get us through the first cutting of alfalfa.  Dad knew the sellers and Dad knew a good price when he heard one. There was one field that had alfalfa as a carry over and then the sales barn purchases would be history. 

  Dad came over for every morning milking and Dad and sometimes my brother, Michael, came over for the evening milking.  Orlin had never milked a cow in his life.  It took a week or so and we were doing the milking solo.  A learning experience beyond belief.  Every morning Clara Luthans would be at the farm to pick up the milk cans full of milk from the cooler, take the full ones and leave the empty ones.  Clara always took time to give encouragement.  That gal slung full milk cans as if they were filled with air.

  I had no problem helping out with getting the milkers washed up after each milking.  I had done it as a child living on Mom and Dad’s farm.  I came in handy for cleaning the gutters as well.  Until the cows could be left out in the pasture, it was cleaning gutters twice a day.  Carrie and I took the pitch fork duty.  Bundling Carrie up after she had been fed and had dry diapers, she would be good for several hours napping in the feed bunk of the calf pen that was empty.  Orlin needed to go to Dad’s to borrow the feed grinder once a week.  As it was, there was ear corn left in one of the corn cribs. That coupled with concentrate from the Hutchinson elevator kept the cows milking to their capacity . . . once they were assured that the young fellow milking them knew what he was doing.  Orlin’s time in between milkings was getting the hog barn ready so some sows could be purchased at the sales barn that would be coming on board ready to farrow. 

  We had also inherited the sheep from the previous owners.  Even I was not up to speed on taking care of sheep, so we soon learned together as it was apparent there would be a lambing season coming up.  Get out the heat lamps!

  Needless to say the first three months of 1966 were busy as there was “Farming 101” going on non stop.  Lots of things to get under control before the spring field work started.

  —— to be continued at some time.

  Yesterday I had experimented with a simplistic digitization program I had purchased from my Bernina people in Bird Island several years ago. In the past I have made up my own phrases on projects to stitch out.  I can also download certain designs from collections that had been purchased and regroup them for a project to be stitched out.  That was my current quest.  The towel I had photographed earlier was completed, ready to stitch from the collection.  I had wanted to take the frame of that project and make up my own design to stitch.  It was a lesson in patience.  Placing each aspect onto the area and getting it sized to work out took a few tries.  As I am typing the finished stitched project is in a tub of water getting the stabilizer soaked off.  I almost screwed up the entire thing as the last item to stitch was the bug.  I had shrunk it down a bit too much as at some point the stitches did not reduce as much as I thought they had.  I bypassed several of the embellished overlays on the wings.  It would have been pounded into a mess.  So much for creativity.  If you don’t try you can’t succeed.  Tomorrow the towel will have dried for a posting of it. 

  Needless to say the world around us on Stauffer Avenue is very quiet, but we find ways to keep ourselves centered and balanced.  It’s going to be a great new week with many positives.  Save the best and leave the rest.

   
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  Noreen 2:43 pm on March 12, 2020 Permalink  

  Leaving Texas Part Three 

  This is a continuation of a time in my life that is now taking us to the fall of 1965.

  We are a family of three!  We are living a life in the country that is quite comfortable . . . quite nice.  Orlin is working at his sister’s beef herd farm in a very picturesque place called Beaver Falls, just a bit northeast of Redwood Falls. 

  October in Minnesota is fantastic.  We could have windows open inviting the fall breezes.  October 17th, Carrie made her appearance and since had becoming a chubby and happy baby.  Often when I would look from the kitchen into the living room, all I could see was wiggling moving legs above the edge of the bassinet with cooing and sometimes a squeak.  Orlin was home for supper every night, leaving his brother-in-law to do the Hill Top bar and grill scene on his own.

  Orlin does several runs a day into Franklin for feed for the beef herd.  I had no idea where Franklin was or how large it was.  It must have had some options as one night when Orlin came home from the work day, he had a little pink teddy bear for Carrie.  That teddy bear was in the bassinet that night when Carrie called it a day as well as many nights after that.  The wonderful thing about the bassinet was that it rolled pretty much into whatever portion of the house we were in.

  With Christmas coming I had been busy crocheting potholders for gifts.  I never ran out of yarn or crochet thread as Orlin’s mom, Esther, was right on track when the Ben Franklin store in Hector was closing out colors or an inventory sale. Esther could crochet in her sleep and I found it to be a great pass time with something tangible to show for my time.  Often on Sundays we would drive into Hector for church and spend some time with family.  As we lived a pretty quiet life at Beaver Falls, Carrie was not a fan of the church Organ or the singing.  She usually would add her 2 cents until we got quieted down. 

  Christmas brought a great Charlie Brown Christmas tree right from one of the pastures at Beaver Falls.  A small plastic seat with Carrie strapped in it under the Christmas tree brought lots of naps.  The glass balls moving slightly from the stand-alone heater were mesmerizing. Somewhere in one of Carrie’s photo books there is a photo of her under the Christmas tree. My mom, Lena, had come for one full day and we had baked Christmas cookies.  Orlin took time to come in for afternoon coffee to visit.  Sweet memories.

  I have so many sweet memories of that time.  A new family memories.  Orlin would hear Carrie wake during the night crying and I can still feel him reaching over to me patting me, just as he would pat Carrie when he would be in the rocking chair getting her to quiet before bedtime.  I got up during the nights, but he had definitely heard her.  All the flannel diapers would be washed over and over.  Getting up during the night when one of the diapers needed to be rinsed out in the toilet bowl before going into the laundry bucket, half asleep I had reached up and flushed the toilet with the diaper still in it.  I lived in fear the entire next day wondering if that would cause pluming problems.  

  Memories come unannounced.  

  If we got snowed in during that winter, I don’t remember.  I had a warm home, I had a happy baby with no wants in the world.  I am sure the fellows that had to fight the winter would give a different account.  We were a family every night and would take the next day the way it came.

  In the late winter days, being those of the beginning of 1966, my mom and dad, Raymond and Lena, came for a visit.  Dad proposed to us to start farming on our own in Boon Lake Township.  Sleepless night, much to think about.  Much to contemplate, as it would be for the spring field work for the 1966 harvest. 

  Sometime I will continue my story and my memories of becoming a farm family.  This was quite the jaunt from Texas and its scorpions and heat to checking into Minnesota life at Beaver Falls.  Stayed tuned sometime in the future.  You know very well my sweet memories will return.

  ---

  Meanwhile, I am in the moment here on Stauffer Avenue, enjoying every day.