X ~ XLR8

     Words beginning with an "X" are a bit more challenging and I have at various times during previous A-Z challenges simply resorted to using words beginning with ex and placed a heavier emphasis on the x part of it. 
    Today however I decided to turn to a little game Steven used to love playing.
    

    XLR8 was simple enough to play being very light on strategy.
    Most of the time it was only Steven and I playing it, though it can be played with up to six players.
    You start with the little speedometer at zero and five cards in your hand. On your turn you play a card and then draw another. The MPH cards helped you accelerate your speed. You play the card and turn the wheel on your speedometer to indicate your new speed. First one to get to 200 MPH wins.
    Included in the cards were caution cards. When played,  all your opponents had to reduce their speed to 25 MPH. Blow Out cards could be played on another player making them have to return their speed to zero. A Pit Stop card has the player of your choice have to skip a turn. A rare 2x or 3x multiplier card allowed you to double or triple your speed.
    This game appealed to Steven because of speed and racing. 
    I enjoyed it a lot because it was an easy one to pick up and play when ever, and the adding and multiplying was a nice bonus to slip in something educational while having fun.
    This little game won a creative child Game of the Year award back in 2008, I can see why.  
    The only complaint I have with this one is that instead of a game box it comes in ziploc "chip bag" of sorts. It works, but it's not my container of choice.

U ~ Umbrella Plants

    Umbrella plants, also known as May Apples are on the list of my favorite things in spring.
    It wasn't until after we were married that I found out that they produce flowers. I had never examined them closely enough to see the delicate white blossoms hiding under the umbrella like leaves.
    That first spring after we got married LV came into the house one day with a freshly picked bouquet that included the flowers from the umbrella plant.
    I was absolutely delighted with it.
    Every spring after that as long as we had access to umbrella plants he would present me with another bouquet. I loved each and every one of them.
    Currently the hill behind the house is covered in half grown umbrella plants. And after 25+ years of having an annual bouquet, I'm thinking it's fait to assume that before too long I will be getting another one.

T ~ Teachers

     School was an overwhelming new thing to me. Those first few days felt confusing and all I wanted was to be at home with Mom and my brothers. The kindness of teacher Lydia soon helped me get adjusted and I actually learned to look forward to going to school.
    Unfortunately after only six weeks something happened that made that she had to go home. It was out of state which meant a new teacher had to be found.
    Ruth was her replacement. She was a scary teacher, a bully with a temper. There are quite a few stories I could share of the happenings in our little one room school while she was in charge. She expected a lot from us and didn't hesitate to use a whip if we didn't measure up to what she thought we could do.
    Most of the time my lessons weren't too difficult, but then she decided first graders also needed to do memory work and assigned long German hymns to be memorized. I was fluent in Pennsylvania Dutch, I had just learned to read and write in English, but German? It was too much. I hardly understood anything. With Mom's gentle coaching I got it memorized and recited perfectly while still having zero idea what I was saying.
    All these years later I can still recite the entire hymn, but even now I had to have a number of the words of the first two lines translated in order to know what it says.
     Demut ist die schönste Tugend,
        Aller Christen Ruhm und Ehr
        Humility is the most beautiful virtue,
        The glory and honor of all Christians
    At the end of that school year Ruth was asked to not teach another year. The community was having other problems as well, so everyone homeschooled until they could move midway through the school year.
    It was toward the end of second grade when we moved and I was introduced to teacher Hannah. I loved her. She also expected a lot from us, but in a kind and encouraging manner. We thrived with her for the next three years at which point she transferred to a different school.
    Our next teacher was lovely, but much more lenient. My learning suffered a lot that year. She only taught one year and then got married.
    Enter teacher Sadie. She had lots of ideas on how to make school fun, that we didn't appreciate as much as we should have. She was a stickler for perfect penmanship and I chafed under her constant correction with her dreaded red pen. I really appreciate it now though. It was thanks to her that my penmanship improved greatly.
    Her weakness was grammar, language arts, english, or what ever you want to call it. It was so bad that the entire school was failing and finally the bishop himself convinced Mom to step in and teach that class for all eight grades.
    Having her come in to teach became the highlight for all of us students that year,
    Sadie taught for two years and then moved on to a special ed school. 
    My eight grades were over with six different teachers having had a hand in my education. I have fond memories of five of them. Ruth, however should not have been allowed to work with children.

S ~ Soup

     The Amish community my Dad grew up in had its own quirks. One of which was that instead of serving "church" peanut butter for lunch after church services they served bean soup and half moon pie filled with an apple filling.
    The soup consisted of beans, similar to navy beans but a bit bigger and meatier, torn chunks of bread, milk, and lots of black pepper.
    It was served by placing big bowls on the makeshift tables and everyone ate out of the bowl nearest them. Most tried  to keep to their side, but all that double dipping was still a bit much for those with weaker stomachs. 
    My Dad never talked about it without sharing the revulsion he felt when faced with eating that soup. He chose to skip the soup, eating only his allotted half moon pie, and go home hungry every Sunday.
    Because of his aversion to the whole ordeal Mom never made bean soup for us.
    So it was quite unexpected when I became pregnant with our first child and I craved bean soup even though I had never even tasted it before.
    I made some and enjoyed every bite.
    That craving ran its course and I haven't had bean soup since.

R ~ Raindrops

    I love raindrops on flowers and plants.
    I will often run outside after a rain to take pictures.
    My favorite is when the roses are blooming. I like roses at anytime, but there's some extra special when they have a lot of raindrops clinging to their petals.
    

Q ~ Quilt Frame

     The first winter after we got married I was gifted a quilt frame. I soon put it to use and for several weeks worked on quilting a Broken Star quilt that I had pieced the previous winter.
    After that quilt was done I tucked the frame into the attic where it remained until we moved to Missouri.
   It found a spot in our storage building. With three little children to care for, quilting was the last thing on my mind.
    After two years at that house we moved to another one in the same community where once again I didn't even think about quilting.
    When we moved halfway across the country to our current home fifteen years ago the quilt frame didn't make it. There were different times when I would have liked to to set it up and do a quilt or two with the girls.
    I puzzled about what happened with it for years. How did it simply just disappear?
    Last week I was talking about things that have been damaged during our moves and the mystery of the missing quilt frame when all of a sudden a memory popped up and I realized exactly what had happened with it.
    When we had moved to our second home in Missouri I had tried to find a spot for it. There was no room in the house, and we didn't have a storage building. I came up with the brilliant idea to put it in the crawl space under the house. It wasn't an ideal space at all, but the dirt was covered in gravel and I thought it would be fine. Unfortunately I never thought of it again, and somehow forgot where I had put it until now.
    I wonder if it has been discovered by the current owner and if they threw it away.
    I regret it was left behind, but at least I finally solved that mystery.

P ~ Phase 10

     Twenty some years ago LV introduced me to the game of Phase 10.

    I had been invited to his house to meet some of his cousins. My brother John gave me a ride to his house and as I was walking across the yard someone came out to meet me and said, "The cousin LV really wanted you to meet didn't come after all so you don't have to stay."

    I looked in dismay at the back of John's buggy that was rapidly clattering down the driveway, and wondered if I could catch him if I ran fast, or if not I could slink through the woods and go back home.

    "You can come on in, since he has left already," the person said and led the way to the house. As I stepped inside, the screen door closed faster than anticipated and neatly swiped the shoe right off my foot leaving it plopped outside on the porch, with me and my other shoe inside.

    The conversation that had been going at high tilt slowed and stopped as everyone watched LV's girlfriend try to get that offending shoe back on her foot where it belonged.

    Thankfully at this point LV realized I was there and came to my rescue. We headed upstairs where a group of his cousins were preparing to play Phase 10. He explained the rules to me and we proceeded to play. The game was fun, even though I lost spectacularly, and the day that started off so awkwardly had become much more enjoyable.

    Through the years since that day we have played Phase 10 hundreds and hundreds of times. I've lost a good 95% of the time, but somehow I always enjoy it.

O ~ Oops

     Oops is such a great little word that fits nicely for a lot of things happening lately.

    Such as forgetting I have to make an "O" blog post until a few hours later than I would have liked. Oops
    
    Or yesterday when I missed my exit because I was happily driving along thinking about all sorts of things when I realized, oops, my exit is behind me.

    Also yesterday, Steven found a small pretty whitish rock with red strips and speckles on the frozen ground when we were out walking. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. An hour later he reached into his pocket and a funny look crossed his face. "Um - Mom - my rock is sticky. He drew it out and no longer being frozen it was apparent that the rock was actually one of those pillow shaped peppermint candies. Oops.

    Carrying a plate with stuffed eggs, apparently not steady enough because the next thing I know several slid off and plopped on the floor. Oops.

N ~ Nine Patch

     I was six years old when I received my first sewing machine. It was an old fashioned Singer treadle machine.
    I immediately wanted to learn how to sew. 
    Mom gave me fabric scraps and I started sewing with no real plan of making anything. The joy of seeing those rows of stitches run across fabric was enough.
    It didn't take long for me to get the treadling part of sewing figured out, and once Mom realized that she created a 2"x 2"  square cardboard pattern, gave me access to her good stash of fabric scraps, and got me started on making nine patch quilt blocks. 
    I spent hours and hours happily cutting out squares and then sewing them together to make the blocks.
    Those blocks eventually got turned into a quilt that we still use today.
    

M ~ Money

     Being a single woman when you're Amish is a life of hardship, especially when it comes to earning money.
    The options available to earn money are limited.
    Being a teacher was your best option, but there weren't that many positions available and even if you were able to get one, the money you could earn was pitiful. Nine dollars a day was what you could earn at the time when I was a substitute teacher. They have since raised it to eleven dollars a day, but that is still nowhere near enough.
    If you weren't fortunate enough to be able to secure a teaching job another popular option was to be a mother's helper for the six weeks after a baby was born. Taking care of the house, meals, garden, canning, children, and often any other accumulated tasks the mother put off until this time. The mother got to rest and enjoy her newborn for those six weeks while the girl worked from early morning to late night for the paltry sum of five dollars a day.
    Quilting was an option for some if their living quarters had room for a quilt frame.
    Some were able to work at greenhouses in the spring.
    But nothing ever paid well. Girls simply didn't "need" money.

    Not all Amish communities are the same. This was how it was in the community we lived in. 
    

L ~ Letters

    Circle letters were an important part of our lives when we were Amish. I was in a number of different ones and my Mom in I have no idea how many different ones.
    A circle letter consisted of on average ten people. The address sheet contained the names, birthdates, and addresses of all those participating in the letter. The first person on the address sheet would write a letter, mail it to the second person who would read the letter then write one and send both letters on to person number three. By the time it reached person ten the circle letter was officially started. Person ten would then write a letter and send the entire packet of letters back to person number one who would remove the original letter she/he wrote, write a new letter and continue it on its rounds with each person removing their old letter and writing a new one.
    Mom kept all the letters she wrote. I'm so glad she did! 
    The past few evenings I have been reading some of the letters she had written. They're all interesting to me, but my favorites are the ones she wrote for her circle letter that included only her mom and sisters. She was much more open and less restrained in those as she wrote of everything going on in her life. Of settling into a new home in a different community and all the challenges that involved. Of the day to day antics of her children and her thoughts and feelings on a multitude of things.
    

    This one amused me as she detailed her day juggling canning peaches, getting laundry done with my less than enthusiastic eight year old help, and rescuing a goat stuck in a woven fence.

K ~ Knock Knocks

     When Steven was but a wee lad he was introduced to knock-knock jokes and immediately latched on to them.
    What followed was a period of truly dreadful jokes we all suffered through. They made zero sense, but he loved them.
    At some point I grabbed a pen and would jot them down, thinking that someday once he's older he can read them and see what we had endured.
    I found those jokes again last year and read some of them to him. He was properly unimpressed, but I quite enjoyed them this time around. Somehow time took the mind-numbing tedium from them and left only the sweet memory behind of a little boy inventing his jokes.
    I have decided to compile them into a book and try my hand at illustrating each one. 

    Here's an example of one of the "jokes"

    Knock knock
    Who's there?
    Grasshopper
    Grasshopper who?
    Grasshopper door.

    The joke makes zero sense, but drawing a little scene involving a grasshopper door is going to be fun.

    I may have to decide whether to give him the completed book for Christmas or keep if for myself.

J ~ Jams & Jellies

    There's something satisfying about making jams and jellies. My favorite is strawberry, with quite a few other fruits tying for the second place spot.
    Several years ago Steven found a recipe for dandelion jelly that he wanted me to help him make. And our journey into floral jellies was started.
    

    It turns out dandelion jelly is actually really great. It tastes a bit like honey. If words other than actual flavors can be used to describe the taste I would say it tastes like sunshine and happiness.

    I have used lavender. A good way to describe it would be that it holds a bit of mysterious intrigue, a touch of aloofness, but it's overall pleasant.   

    Last summer I made violet jelly. It was a fun process. The tea I made with freshly picked violet blossoms was at first blue, but when I added a few tablespoons of lemon juice it turned into a vibrant pink. 

    Violet jelly is delightful. I would describe the flavor as shy but wistfully charming.

    Fruity jams and jellies are my favorite, but floral jellies are a lovely change every once in a while. That is, all except forsythia. I tried using forsythia last summer, but as it turns out - it tastes of despair and bitter betrayal

I ~ Ice Cream Empire

    Playing games is part of our daily life. Not only do we enjoy it, but we have found that they often aid in learning more effortlessly.
    For an example, the game Ice Cream Empire.

    It was a game that used to get quite a lot of table time when Steven was younger. He loved the little trucks that were used as tokens to drive around the gameboard hauling the ice cream chips on the back as we bought and sold ice cream and built our chains of stores across the states.

    He thought it was all great fun, while the teacher part of me smiled at the learning that was unwittingly happening.
    The game board had all the states labeled, and as he was building his chains of stores he was also learning the names and locations of the states.

.

    As he bought and sold ice cream he was doing math.

    Though not heavy on the strategic side of games there were critical thinking skills involved in decision making.
    There are two superficial things I really don't like about this game. The first is the artwork on the cover. It looks very unprofessional to me and always makes me cringe just a bit when I see it. The second, the cursive writing. As someone who has taught our children to write in cursive and the care that went into their daily penmanship, the poor display of spacing, slant, and letter formation bugs me a lot.
    

Would I recommend this game? Yes, as far as a fun family game goes it is a decent choice. While not in our top ten list of games, I'm still glad it's part of our collection.

H ~ Handkerchiefs

    Pretty handkerchiefs were treasured among Amish girls. There were no rules pertaining to them unlike almost every other aspect of our life. They provided a tiny bit of self expression which was a welcome change. 

    Both boy and girl toddlers often had handkerchiefs with fun designs. My brothers each had several with various barnyard scenes, while I had one with bunnies. 

    I was probably three or so when I traded that one in for something more grown-up when my Grandma Swarey gave me my first real Sunday handkerchief. Up until then I would play with Mom's pretty handkerchiefs at church. To be able to tuck my very own grown up handkerchief in my pocket to take to church felt so special!
    On a side note, does anyone have any idea how to restore fabric that has developed spots from being stored? It looks a lot like foxing in old books. I'd love to take care of it if possible.

    It wasn't too long after my first pretty handkerchief that I received the one I used to play with and fold into things while I sat next to Mom during the three hour long church services.  

    It was used to make a "mouse". It was always satisfying to create it, but even more satisfying to pull its tail and have it turn back into my handkerchief ready to be made into a mouse again. 
    Unlike the twin babies in a cradle that I used to fold it into and rock and play with for a while, there really wasn't much to do with a mouse other than give it to my baby brother and let him pull the tail to undo it, and then make another one for him to repeat the process.

Example of the twin babies in a cradle.

    On my tenth birthday I received another handkerchief. That Sunday I carefully tucked it into the pocket of my new "grown-up" style dress. I was now too old to play with a handkerchief in church and started sitting with the big girls instead of with Mom.
    I had no reason to use  my handkerchief that day, but the knowledge of it being in my pocket felt good. 

    I had quite a collection of handkerchiefs by this time, and I always enjoyed choosing just the right one before leaving for church. 
    Mom encouraged me to save my prettiest ones until I turned sixteen and joined the youth. I was glad I had and by then I started matching the color of my handkerchief to the dress I was wearing. Except when I wore black, then I always paired a pink handkerchief with it. 

    Unlike some of my cousins who lived in different communities where the youth girls would fold their pretty handkerchiefs in quarters and pin them to the outside of their pockets where they could be seen through the lightweight while organdy aprons they wore, mine were always tucked into my pocket because our aprons were all heavy weight enough nothing would have shown through.

    

    The last time I recall choosing my handkerchief with special care was on our wedding day. Having a blue wedding dress of course needed a blue handkerchief to go with it.

G ~ Goals

     I always enjoy making a list of fun goals for the year. Usually I have twelve things on my list and pick something to do each month.
    This year though I made myself a 25 in '25 list. So far I have been able to check several things off the list, and I'm looking forward to accomplishing the remaining.

25 in '25

1. Do a 1,000 piece puzzle ... complete

2. Play 52 different board games ... in progress
3. Eat at the new Japanese restaurant.
4. Have a girls day in Morgantown WV and eat at the Kome Asian restaurant
5. Read all the Jane Austen books ... complete
6. Celebrate everyone's half birthday
7. Do paint pouring ... complete
8. Do the Zentangle course by Wow Art on Patreon
9. Cook a 12 course meal
10. Do a tablescape
11. Paint rocks
12. Bullet Journal ... in progress
13. Illustrate Steven's knock-knock jokes
14. Make marshmallow fondant
15. Junk journal ... in progress
16. Photo-a-day for a month ... complete
17. Reread all L.M. Montgomery books ... in progress
18. Make entremets
19. Study a course on herbs ... in progress
20. Make something with sourdough
21. Grow gladiolus
22. Make homemade cheese
23. Cook something from a different country
24. Visit Phipps ... complete

25. Read 100 books ... in progress, over halfway there.

F ~ Freckles

     Kneel on dew covered grass at dawn, using your hands gather as much dew as you can and wash your face to remove the freckles.
    Do this for seven days and your skin will be soft and clear.
    I read those words several times and then ran to a mirror and inspected my face.
    The freckles sprinkled across my nose and cheeks had never bothered me before, but now that I knew there was a remedy I was determined to get rid of them.
    The next morning I was up and outside at the crack of dawn. I knelt on the wet grass and tried to gather as much dew as I could to wash my face. It was much more difficult than I had thought it would be. The dew could not be "gathered" My hands got wet, but that was all.  I wiped my hands on the dewy grass and then on my face multiple time until I decided it was enough.
    I returned to the house with the skirt of my dress wet and cold. Mom took one look at me and wanted to know what had happened. 
    I felt rather sheepish when I told her what I was trying to do.
    She told me not to be disappointed if it doesn't work, but didn't discourage me from continuing. 
    I did it faithfully for four days. On the fifth day there was no dew. The grass completely dry even at dawn. 
    Thus ended my attempt of ridding my face of freckles, and I learned that no dew in the morning is a sign that there is rain on the way for later that day.
    

E ~ Embroidery

     Hand sewing was always a bit painful for me, but I semi patiently sewed buttons on clothes and did the little bit of hand stitching that needed to be done on the inside of shirt cuffs and apron belts.
    But embroidery ... it was its own special kind of torture.
    In some Amish communities proper young ladies were expected to have some kind of embroidery to do when visiting. Most of my cousins on my Dad's (large) side of the family lived in such communities. Therefore Mom thought I too should have something to work on whenever we spent time at each other's homes.
    T'was an awful idea. 
    The floss would knot and snarl. I could not maintain the proper tension on my stitches no mater which ones I tried. Mom introduced me to all kinds of different special stitches, but I enjoyed none of them. 
    My cousins sat there creating beautiful embroidered things. Meanwhile I learned that peroxide removes blood from fabric, and I get a break from embroidering while the fabric dries after being treated with peroxide.
    My cousins homes now have lovely embroidered quilts and pillows in them. Not surprisingly, our home has nothing embroidered in it.

D ~ Dreams

     Most mornings when I wake up I can only remember fragments of my dreams, but occasionally some will stick with me for much longer.
    Such as the dream I had when I was in first grade. It was such a delightful one that I had to share it with my schoolmates while we were eating lunch the next day. Our teacher overheard my story and I got thoroughly scolded for it, but I felt quite unrepentant about dreaming it, or sharing it. Even now when ever I happen to think if it it still gives me a bit of the same thrill it did back then.
    I was out in our garden and spotted a huge red flower that towered above everything else in the garden. I ran into the house and grabbed my favorite little chair and dragged it outside, setting it down next to the flower. I stood on it but it was wobbly as one of the legs was sinking into the dirt. I grabbed onto the flower petals and stretched as much as I could to look inside the flower, and suddenly I was sitting inside the flower, I was looking at everything from my lofty perch when I started moving and I slid down the inside of the flower stem, plopping out into the middle of a beautiful field filled with happy children and all kinds of nice things. 
    Before I could go join them I woke up.

    ~~~~~

Another dream 

    I was driving home. Next to me, in the front seat was an armload of hay. The best hay available; a nice soft, third cutting alfalfa hay. I approached the next road I needed to turn on just as three police cars came speeding up the road. One of them headed up over the steep bank into a field and started driving after a bull. The other two parked across the road to block traffic and keep the bull from getting away. Wanting to get out of harm's way, I grabbed the hay, and ran over to a nearby house where an old family friend was sitting on his front porch. He smiled in welcome as I dashed up the stairs. "I brought your cats a treat," I said and proceeded to fill the cat bowls with handfuls of hay. 
    "They probably don't think it's a treat," he said. 
    Embarrassed at what I had just done I gathered up the hay and started walking across the porch to leave, and then I noticed Grandpa sitting there smiling and watching me. He didn't mention the hay but said, "Mary Ann, do you remember where to find the verse I like so well "'Bless the Lord, o my soul, and forget not all his benefits."'
    "Yes!" I said excited. "It's in Psalms 103." I quoted the first four verses for him and his smile grew bigger as he sat there listening. I couldn't wait to have a nice long talk with him and went to sit next to him.
    And then my alarm clock went off. 

    I don't know why these particular dreams have stuck to me so long, but I still find them interesting.

C ~ Cloud Watching

     As a child, lazy summer afternoons were perfect for lying in the grass and watching the clouds. My brothers and I enjoyed seeing all the different things you could spot in them. 
    

    I still enjoy trying to see things in the clouds. This one appears to me to be a hand reaching for something.

    This next one provided me with a number of different pictures. A taco, the spout and part of a teapot, a man's face with his mouth open, a possible elephant trunk. 

    Apparently I am easily entertained.

B ~ Butterflies

     I have always loved butterflies, and always try to capture a picture of them whenever I happen to see one.

     Among my memories involving butterflies, I have three that stand out above the rest. 

    1. One lovely summer day I was in our backyard when I noticed some movement on one of the tree trunks. Upon investigating I found a butterfly sitting there gently opening and closing its wings. And then I noticed another butterfly emerging from under the loose bark. It was followed by another, then another, I sat on the grass as dozens of brown and blue, flecked with some orange butterflies emerged fanned their wings for a while before fluttering off, some landing on me before they journeyed on. 
    I had never heard of such an event before, and have never seen it happen since, but I treasure the memory of that special day!

    2. One evening our family went on a short drive on a narrow dirt road. At one section it was lined with trees, and the air was filled with dozens of white butterflies. It was one of those moments where everyone fell silent and simply looked at the beauty surrounding us.
    As we continued on our way one of the girls whispered, "That was magical!" I couldn't have summed the experience up better.

    3. Last year LV took me to a Butterfly Conservatory. It was everything and more I had ever thought a place like that would be with hundreds of butterflies flying and posing everywhere. Utterly delightful!

    

A ~ Arrowheads

     Every once in a while when Dad was reminiscing about his childhood he would tell us about how he would roam the bottom fields of  their farm and find arrowheads and beads. 
     He had quite the collection of both, but when he was fifteen they moved and his collection didn't make it.
    It used to be one of my goals while traipsing through our fields and playing at the creek to find some arrowheads to start replacing his long lost collection.
    I never did find any.
    Several years ago some of our history curriculum included a nice handful of new arrowheads.
    We looked at them and then tucked them away.

    I now wish I would have at least sent a few of them to him even though they aren't the real thing.
    I could send them now, but with him being steadily consumed by dementia, I'm afraid it would be unwise.
    And so I simply look at them and try to envision a barefoot little boy roaming the fields of his home searching for arrowheads to add to his treasured collection.