Posts Categorized: Patience

She’s a Grand Old Flag, She’s a Good-Tasting Flag

| Joy, Love, Patience

I try to continue the family tradition of having a Flag cake for Fourth of July celebrations. I keep trying out new ideas, often coming up with things which bear just a tiny bit of discernible American flag.

When I make a regular, full-sized cake, there’s lots of cake leftovers. To circumvent that, I thought maybe a rolled cake might give everyone a piece of flag-themed cake and a few extra pieces. And, I had an idea. Not necessarily a good idea, but an idea.

I thought I could bake a very shallow white layer and cut out star shapes from it. Then, I could put the white stars on a jelly roll pan and make a blue jelly roll batter to pour over the stars and then bake that. The resulting jelly roll cake would be blue with cute white stars, and then I could color some Cool Whip red and put red and white Cool Whip in the roll. Sounds easy, right?

I found a jelly roll recipe in my big cookbook. Then, I looked online for ideas, too. I found a recipe for a striped cake, that had a white cake batter divided into several different bowls and dyed into bright colors. Then, the instructions said to pipe diagonal stripes across a prepared baking pan. Baked and rolled around a filling and then sliced, it made a lively cake roll. And I thought, “Well, I could put the white stars down and pour blue batter over them, on half a pan, and then pipe red and white stripes down the other side, and then wouldn’t that be cute!” I also found a couple of YouTube videos which were even more informative. One baker showed how to make a template with shapes (she used hearts), which she put underneath a piece of waxed paper. She piped cute pink hearts of batter onto the template shapes, put the pan in the freezer, and, when the shapes were frozen, she removed the template, poured a chocolate batter over the hearts, baked it, and, ta-dah!! the cake had cute pink hearts baked into it.

Oh, yeah. I can do that!

I found some star outlines online, made a template, and mixed up a batch of batter. I made my white stars and put the pan in the freezer. It took FOREVER for them to freeze. I put the rest of the batter into the fridge. Several hours later, the star shapes were finally frozen. And by then, I should really have made a new batch of batter, but that seemed wasteful, and really, what difference would it make. (Lots, in case you wondered.) I colored half of the remaining batter blue, one fourth of the batter red, and left the other fourth white. I spread the blue batter across half the pan, over the stars; it was pretty thin. I tried piping red and white stripes across the other side. It was runny. I baked it all (and the pan was rather warped). It was a disaster, but the white stars showed up really well. I threw it all out. That was Wednesday.

Thursday, I watched the video again, and realized that the baker had made a separate, small batch of batter for the hearts. And froze that. So, I followed that recipe and made my white stars. And they froze up really quickly. Then, I used her cake batter recipe, too. The recipe said that flour could be substituted for the cocoa in the original recipe, if one didn’t want a chocolate cake. I did substitute flour, and colored all that batter blue (giving up on the idea of red and white stripes, opting for red and white Cool Whip instead). I followed the recipe carefully, poured the blue batter over the white stars, and put it in to bake. It looked all right after it had baked. The blue batter had gotten under the edges of the stars a little, but things seemed all right. I rolled up the baked cake (as instructed) and let it cool. Then, I unrolled it to get it ready to fill. The edges were a little stiff (which happens to those kinds of cakes) and, as suggested, I trimmed those edges off. I tasted those cut off edges and they were HORRIBLE. HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE. Dry, chewy (not in a good way), and just awful. So, for the second day in a row, I threw out a cake.

Friday, I made the small recipe, put white star shapes on waxed paper to freeze, and then made the original jelly roll cake recipe from the big cookbook, colored the batter blue, and poured it over the white stars. It baked up quite nicely, and, when I tasted the trimmed off edges, they tasted fine. The white stars show up great! After the rolled up cake had cooled, I unrolled it and got out the Cool Whip. Fortunately, I had had enough blue food coloring to tint all the batters I had made. I had used up some red coloring on Cake #1. I had a larger bottle of red coloring, but I chose a smaller, plastic container, thinking it looked like enough for the Cool Whip. I removed the RED lid from the container and squeezed a good amount into some of the Cool Whip. I began to stir it up, and, OllieMollieGollie!!! It was PURPLE! So, I had to dump that out!

Fortunately, there was that bottle of red coloring (which I carefully tried out on a small spoonful of Cool Whip first). So, finally after three days of trying to get a cake made, I finally had one.

As I dropped the large, very, very heavy trash bag into the big trash bin Friday afternoon, I was really sad and frustrated to realize that I had not photographed any of the epic cake fails. You’ll just have to imagine them on your own.

Here’s this year’s photo of Kevin and Jeremy in their “traditional” photo pose and you can also see what this year’s final (finally) cake looked like. We ate almost all of it up. As I write this, there’s one piece left in the fridge. By time you read this, it’ll be gone (I hope).

 

 

I’ve also mentioned another tradition, begun by my Ohio grandmother, when the strawberries ripened early in the summer. Strawberry shortcake for dinner.

My sister and I often make it these days, on July 4th. After all those lunchtime burgers and hot dogs and flag cake and ice cream, and whatever snacking might go on during the day, strawberry shortcake makes a nice evening meal. After the company arrived (Kevin and Jeremy and April and Peter), on Tuesday, I made my last trip to the grocery store and added a quart of strawberries to my cart. Wednesday, after cleaning up from the lunchtime meal, I washed and sliced the strawberries and added enough sugar “to make them weep” (my grandmother’s directive). Early evening (well, as it’s summertime, it’s more like late afternoon) I got out the new box of Bisquick to make the shortcakes.

Memorize his laws and tell them to your children over and over again. Talk about them all the time, whether you’re at home or walking along the road or going to bed at night, or getting up in the morning.

Deuteronomy 6:6-7 (Contemporary English Version)

How we behave as Kingdom people and lovers of the Lord is often wrapped up in the minutes and hours of ordinary days. How we behave on special days, like holidays and holy days, should be an exact reflection of our behavior on those ordinary days. We are the examples of God’s love and care. Or the lack of those things.

Out With the Old, and the Older, and the Older, and the Even Older . . .

| Goodness, Kindness, Patience

A while back, a few years, maybe longer than a few (I lose track), I bought a new ironing board cover. And, I bought a pretty one. For many, many, many years, I just got the regular, silver-ish, plain old ironing board covers. But the most recent time (however longish or shortish it was), I saw a lovely, red-with-flowers ironing board cover. I thought it would look nice in the room where I iron (and sometimes sew). It did. But, ironing board covers don’t last forever (at least they don’t if people keep ironing on them). A little hole developed in the middle of my pretty red ironing board cover. The more I ironed, the larger it got. I needed a new one.

» Keep Reading

I’ve Heard that Nature Abhors a Vacuum*

| Joy, Love, Patience

I worked in my yard the first couple of weeks in May. Then, I got sick. Not horribly. But, a cold that refused to run its course. Then, I had to prepare for, and teach, Fun with Friends. Peter was here, too, and went back to Fort Worth last Sunday. On Monday, I put on my gardening gloves and went to check things out.

» Keep Reading

Cough, Cough, Wheeze, Wheeze, Ohhhhhhhh

| Patience

Saturday before last, I was feeling a little, um, bad. My eyes hurt. I’d been working in the yard all week, and I thought maybe it was allergies. I don’t have bad allergies like some folks do, but every now and then, I seem to have an allergy-ish reaction to pollen or dust or leaf dregs, or something.

I went to church Sunday morning, still feeling a little bit not-quite-good, and, as I was getting the room ready for Sunday School, my throat starting hurting. I really don’t want to make a bunch of little kids sick (and neither do their parents), so I went back home. Monday and Tuesday I felt really bad and spent those days lying on the day bed and watching Extreme Hoarders (which made me feel amazingly well-organized) and Escaping Polygamy (which made me feel really grateful for parents who let me make my own life choices). Then I felt better, but developed a wracking cough, which made my voice sound strange and flat.

» Keep Reading

In the Backyard

| Joy, Love, Patience, Peace

Summer’s truly here; the air conditioner’s been running regularly for a couple of weeks. I’ve done quite a bit of work in the yard, trying to get things done before the heat sets in. Things look pretty good. Of course, a garden is “a thing of beauty and a job forever,” which is a quote I have on a little plaque that sits on my garden bench.

Before we went to Tennessee in April, I carefully rearranged the potted plants on the patio into spaces around the yard, trying to be sure that they got the appropriate amount of sun or shade they each needed, and were placed where the sprinkler system would keep them hydrated. We were away almost two weeks, and when we pulled into the driveway, home again at last, I was taken aback at how awful the lawn looked. I went straight to the system’s controls in the garage and discovered, to my horror, that, while I had set the timer correctly, I had not actually turned the system on. EEEKKKK.

The patio plants all looked pretty poorly. The lavender looked dead (and it was). But, with some care, everything else came back fine.

 

 

I’m excited to see the big, fat berries on the holly bush.

There will be pretty red berries for Christmas!

 

And, the crape myrtle tree has lost a branch!!

 

 

 

 

But the most interesting, and a little bewildering, thing that I discovered in my yard this spring—

I was out in the yard a couple of weeks ago, and, as I rounded the corner from the back yard to the side where the ferns grow, I looked down and saw . . . yes, a hot dog. I looked at it long and hard. It’s a hot dog.

I’ve not ever seen a dog, or dogs, roaming around the neighborhood. Every now and then I see a cat (or rather, what’s left of a bird in the yard). But, really, do cats eat hot dogs? Maybe. Anyway, I left it where it was and went on with my yardwork. Then, I went inside for some lunch.

 

 

When I went back outside, to work some more, I checked on the hot dog. As you can clearly see, the space was empty. Really? The hot dog noshing dog/cat/whatever was waiting, quietly, observantly, cautiously for me to leave. Then they returned and retrieved their lunch? Seriously? Do squirrels do that sort of thing? (And really, I wouldn’t put anything past a squirrel.)

 

 

Anyway, no other aberrant food items have been deposited in the yard, at least none that I’ve noticed. Rain poured down last Sunday; if I had a gully, it would have been washed out. I hope it’s not the last of the good rainfalls.

 

 

Shout praises to the Lord, everyone on this earth. Be joyful and sing as you come in to worship the Lord!You know the Lord is God!

He created us, and we belong to him; we are his people, the sheep in his pasture.

Be thankful and praise the Lord as you enter his temple. The Lord is good! His love and faithfulness will last forever.

Psalm 100 (Contemporary English Version)

It’s Remote

| Joy, Patience, Peace

First of all, when we were in West Virginia, I put down my glasses (which are just readers, available at all sorts of stores). Someplace. On some table at some restaurant. Some shelf in a gift shop. Some counter at some museum. When I searched for them to be able to read something, they were nowhere to be found. My cousin said she had a pair of readers that were 2.50 that I could borrow. I used them the next day and they were just right. When we stopped to get gas that afternoon, I went inside the store that big gas stations have these days, and, sure enough, located a rack of glasses. I found a pair of 2.50’s and bought them. They were perfect. That was about two weeks ago.

Today, they broke. I guess that $9.95 is not quite enough to pay for a pair of reading glasses that one expects to last for any length of time.

 

So, this evening, I’m struggling along with a pair of real, prescription glasses that I got several years ago. They are bi-focals, and I really, really tried hard for several weeks. I just could not get the hang of them; whenever I looked toward the ground, to go down stairs or step off a curb, or up a curb,  things were out of focus. I finally gave up and went back to the “readers.” I will say, though, that when you purchase your reading glasses at the dollar store, you are getting your money’s worth. Or, apparently, at the gas station, also.

This evening, then, to be able to see somewhat, I rustled up the old prescription glasses and that’s what I have on now. I also have a headache.

That’s just an explanation in case there are typos and bad punctuation, I am trying to hurry through this.

Remotes–

I’m talking about cars. When David’s car refused to leave the driveway, due to extreme old age, a few years ago, he got a new car. A new-to-us pre-owned car, that was only a year or so old. It’s a nice car with heated seats and electric seat controls (up/down, back/forth, reclining/upright). He drove it all the time, unless I was going to Fort Worth to get Peter, since I lobbied for the idea that the newer car should be the one on the highway. And, as soon as we got to town, he would move the car seat over to my car.

Until summer. I lobbied then for using his car for Peter’s and my adventures around town, particularly the zoo. We got a Grandparent Pass for the zoo, which opens up at 9:00 a.m. I said I needed his car for trips to the zoo because I could start the car remotely. One of the best features of a remote start is that, whatever climate control you’ve had the car set at, that’s what will come on when the car’s started. In August, it’s pretty warm, but not horrid until noonish or so. Peter and I would arrive at the zoo parking lot at 10 minutes or so before 9:00, in the hopes that we could get one of the very few parking spaces with some shade. We’d park, get out the stroller (Peter was two, and still content to ride through the zoo), get sun-screened, and be rolling up to the zoo entrance at 9:00. We’d be back at the little cafe at the zoo entrance at 11:00 or so, have a grilled cheese sandwich, and leave.

“If we’re in your car,” I said to David, “then I can start it remotely right when we leave. By time we get to the car, it won’t be really cool, but it won’t be so scorching hot.” (Even if there was shade when we got there, in those intervening hours, most of the shade had moved on.)

It was a hard argument to refute, so I got to drive Peter around in the “good” car. After we got that car paid off, we got another new car for me to drive. It’s not quite as nice (I have to move my seat manually) and it’s smaller. But, it was a brand-new car. With a remote start feature.

I find that really helpful. I can start the car and have it be at least a little bit cool (or warm) when I get to it. But, more importantly, I can find the car. It’s white (actually pearl), and looks very much like every other white/pearl car in the parking lots of the grocery store, the drug store, Target, Wal-Mart. I do know the letters on the license plate, which also helps. The problem, sometimes, is that I have driven up and down several rows at some of these places, looking for a nice, empty spot for the car. So, by time I shop for an hour or so, I’ve long forgotten exactly where I ended up parking the car.

Both car keys look exactly the same. I know which one is which by the *other* keys that are on each end, which does not at all keep me from sometimes using the wrong key/remote to start/open a car.

I have, on more than one occasion, walked confidently up to a white/pearl car, pointed my remote and punched, and the car did not start. Of course, it might be that I’m punching the buttons on David’s key, instead of mine. Or, more likely, I’m pointing and punching at the wrong car. Hmmmm. After checking the license, or, really, just the car itself, for example, is there a car seat in the back of the car I’m punching at? No? Then, it’s not my  car, which does have a car seat in the back.

Once, in the Target parking lot, I aimed my key at a car, several spaces away from me, as I walked toward it. Off in the next row over, I heard a car start. And, yes indeed, that one was my car. It’s so helpful.

 

Hearing and seeing are gifts from the Lord.

Proverbs 20:12 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

 

Although the exact date is in dispute, it is generally agreed upon that the first pair of corrective eyeglasses was invented in Italy sometime between 1268 and 1300. These were basically two reading stones (magnifying glasses) connected with a hinge balanced on the bridge of the nose. (Google)

Miraculous.

 

Travelogue, Part 2

| Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace

Years and years ago, when Kevin was in elementary school, he misplaced a cassette tape we had borrowed from the library. It was overdue, and, believe it or not, at that time our library did not charge late fees. But, we did need to find it. While he was at school one day, I meticulously went through his room, searching for the missing tape. He had some shelves along one wall, with bins that held various toys and games and supplies. He had a bookshelf, a chest of drawers, and a desk. I went through every single one of the spaces, searching for the tape. I did finally find it, in (and I am not making this up) the last place there was to look. He had a chair desk with a shelf underneath the seat, and that’s where the tape was. But, before I got there, as I searched all the other places, in every single space I pawed through, I found:

In every single space!!

 

I had a very similar experience while we were in Tennessee. David’s mom (who celebrated her 95th birthday while we were there), is in a rehab center now. I spent a couple of days working in her bedroom, straightening up and cleaning up the space. She had several purses. Actually, twenty-five of them; I counted. I went through every one, making sure she hadn’t accidentally left cash or credit cards in them (or who knows what). They were basically empty. Nothing valuable. But in every purse (every one of them) I found:

In every single one!

It was a little deja-vuish, reminding me of the search from years before.

I also found these interesting items in my mother-in-law’s room:

If you’re not old enough to recognize them, here’s how those things were used:

Then, for fun, I got to go to North Carolina to have lunch with friends in Black Mountain, and go to the Appalachian Folk Art Center in Asheville. And then, for more fun, David and I went to West Virginia to visit my cousin, Nancy.

We went to the Monocacy National Battlefield, in Frederick, Maryland, which was interesting, and a place we were unfamiliar with.

 

 

Kevin took me to task last week for including the fact that, when we left town, there were baby birds in a nest in the garage, and, upon returning, we didn’t immediately check on them. You’ll be relieved (or, absolutely unconcerned) to know that there was a completely empty (no carcasses) and clean nest up there. Apparently, the parent birds did a lovely job of sidling in the space at the bottom of the garage door with food for their kids, and shepherding them through their childhoods until they were ready to fly away.

 

 

 

 

Live under the protection
    of God Most High
    and stay in the shadow
    of God All-Powerful.
 Then you will say to the Lord,
“You are my fortress,
    my place of safety;
    you are my God,
    and I trust you.”

Psalm 91: 1,2 (Contemporary English Version)

Traveling is great! Seeing family and friends and visiting new places are invigorating! Now, I’m about ready to rest in my (physical) place of safety for a while.

Sometimes, Adults Have Scabby Knees, Too

| Patience, Peace

If you looked closely at my knees, you could see the scars of a childhood of running (and falling), leaping from swings, and careening across sidewalks on roller skates. And falling. Once (as a kid) while bathing, I noticed a strange round mark on my big toe. I rinsed away any soap and rubbed my fingers across the mark. Oh yeah, I remembered. I had stumbled and scraped the top of my toe, which developed a big scab, which had recently, finally, fallen off.

Many years later, as an adult, I was sick and stayed home from church one evening. David had moved our small television into the bedroom, so I could be entertained while recuperating. A comedian was on, and he was talking about childhood, and how he and his friends all had scabby knees all the time, but, thankfully, as adults, they were pretty much past that. I looked down at my knees, which were scabby. I’d had several tumbles and we finally realized it happened because the rubbery portion on the heels of my (inexpensive) sandals had worn away and the  newly revealed rear edges of those heels were indeed slick. I got rid of those sandals. And my knees healed up.

Which doesn’t mean that the rest of my life has been stumble free. But, for the most part, my knees have been scab-free.

Meanwhile, the weather has warmed up and I worked in the yard. Last Christmas, the family gave me a little plastic greenhouse. They had to put it together themselves, and it was a great space to protect my more tender plants throughout the winter.

Not everything made it through the winter. Bougainvilleas are just too tender. But everything else lived! I’ve been working the last few weeks, replacing things, buying new things, getting everything in place. And getting ready to take down the little greenhouse. I don’t start lots of seed early. Maybe next year I’ll try that, but for now, I’m just happy to have my old friends back out onto the patio.

I got the instruction sheet that Kevin gave me in December, when the greenhouse was up. And I’m thinking that I’ll just start at the bottom and take things apart in the reverse order in which they went up.

I pried up the stakes that held the bottom edges to the ground. I opened up both screen doorways and removed the supports at both ends. I went to work on the edge supports and the roof supports. Now, I really do know what’s going to happen when all the supports are out. But there are some around the front and back edges that don’t appear to be removable (the printed instructions don’t seem to mention those). So I’m just trying to wrangle (and wrangle does seem like the most appropriate word) the structure down to the ground.

And I do finally get it down, sort of. I accomplish that by falling out one of the doors onto the concrete patio, along with the structure itself. Remember that scene in the movie Jurassic Park where the scientist and the boy have been up in a tree and their smashed-up car careens down on them and they slide down to the tree roots, and the kid says: “Well… we’re back… in the car again.” That’s a little how I felt. “Well, I’m back in the greenhouse again.” I’m sorry there wasn’t anyone there to take a picture of the up-ended greenhouse with my sprawled-out appendages around the edges.

 

Which brings me to:

Yes, scabby knees. Well, a scabby knee. And, just above that tiny scratch on my shin, is a pale bruise and a very tender lump.

There is also a little sore spot on the inside of my elbow.

I don’t know. Do scabby knees keep you feeling young? Or do they make your family members think about going ahead and sending you to a retirement residence where nothing dangerous can possibly happen. I doubt it. I find that I can push the “nothing dangerous can possibly happen” envelope wherever I am.

Meanwhile,

You are the one
who put me together
    inside my mother’s body,
and I praise you
    because of
the wonderful way
    you created me.
Everything you do is marvelous!
    Of this I have no doubt.

Psalm 139:13-14 (Contemporary English Version)

Putting our bodies back together may be one of God’s most amazing miraculous deeds.

Even Though It’s Followed by Beastly Hot Summer, I’m Still Pretty Fond of Spring

| Joy, Patience

Cue the music (Also Sprach Zarathurstra)! Something amazing is happening among the ferns!

Here is the explanatory text, in case you ‘d like to know how the music came to be written. The link above is the shorter part that you might recognize from the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey. Or try this, the longer version, where you can watch the whole orchestra.

I have loved Hosta plants for years. I had a nice patch of them at our old house. They’re perennials, and would very reliably lose their leaves in the winter and come back up in the spring, growing and blooming nicely underneath a big, old pecan tree. When we moved, I thought the north side of the house would be perfect. Also growing there were wood ferns, which also lost their leaves with the first frost, but bounced right back again, pushing up their tiny, curled-up fronds when the weather warmed back up.

Here’s Peter, last spring, digging a hole for the new Hosta I had bought. There are two who came back from the previous year, one close to the toe of his boot, and one close to the heel.

So I bought and planted Hostas, with pretty limited success. I keep on trying.

I no longer purchase several Hosta plants each year. I usually get one, maybe two.

This year, I bought one new one, thinking this might be the last time I try (but, alas, I always forget about “one last time” each year when spring rears its delightful head). Then, I had Peter with me at a nursery, and we decided that I might should get another one.

Later that day, we were playing outside and I said, “Oh! Look here! One of the Hostas has come back!”

Several days later, YES!! Another one.

And, then, a third one. We had the coldest winter in several years, with temps of 12 and 13 degrees for a couple of days. And, still, they came back. And, I have two more, all ready to go into the ground. Maybe I shouldn’t try buying a variety of them. Possibly I should just keep adding the ones that seem hardier. Well, too late for that this year. Maybe next.

 

And why do you worry about clothes? Observe how the wildflowers of the field grow: They don’t labor or spin thread.  Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these.

Matthew 6:28-29 (Christian Standard Bible)

 

And not only are they beautifully adorned, they smell and taste pretty good, too!

In the Neighborhood

| Patience, Peace

I’m never quite ready for spring. I haven’t gotten enough time to wear my winter clothes. I rather like the darkening later afternoon (before TIME CHANGE rears its very ugly head). It just means that summer is right around the corner, and I’m not quite ready to turn on the Air Conditioner.

I imagine many people who live in Michigan feel the same way about fall. They’re just not finished with summer. They’re not quite ready to get out their parkas. They’re not looking forward to shoveling snow. And shoveling snow. And shoveling snow.

But, spring is bearing down on me. And, truly, it’s a little difficult to be unhappy when things are looking so interesting and lovely.

Around town:

In my own neighborhood:

I, the Lord, am the one
    who sends storm clouds
and showers of rain
    to make fields produce.
So when the crops need rain,
    you should pray to me.

Zechariah 10:1 (Contemporary English Version)

So, in my neighborhood, it’s spring. There’s lots to be grateful for. Very few plants died over the winter, even through the 12° and 13° nights. I’ve already done quite a bit of plant shopping. And I’m discussing my water needs with the Almighty.

As I was driving around the neighborhood, and beyond, looking for  pre-spring photos, I took this one, too. It’s in a backyard near our house. Because we live in my childhood home, I happen to know exactly what it is and when it went in. Lots of folks may not immediately put the October 1962 date in this context, but the thing is a bomb shelter, installed in November or December 1962, when we knew we weren’t going to all be blown to nuclear smithereens, at least not right then. I was 12 at the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis, and I can assure you that I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO SCARED IN MY WHOLE LIFE. It was like that panic of a near miss of a traffic accident, or when you can’t find your kid in a crowd for a few minutes. But it lasted for DAYS. A few years ago, I watched a PBS special about it, probably in 2012. I almost had to turn the television off, I felt the panic so strongly that I wept, even though I did know how things turned out.

If you’re too young to remember, or just need a refresher, you can read a short version or a longer version  or a much more detailed version.

Of course, as kids, we weren’t so traumatized by the whole thing that we couldn’t find the humor in the bomb shelter. We called it “Big John,” after a popular song at the time. And even now, every time I drive by it, I still hum “Big John.”

I’m pretty sure that the family that had it installed no longer lives there. Maybe several people have lived there since then. I would love to know what they’re doing with it these days. Maybe they refreshen the supplies every now and then. And, seriously, tornado season is approaching and they may feel smugly safe, knowing Big John is on the job.