Keeping watch

Uncle Sam is finished--except for his flag--and I've assigned him the task of keeping watch over my quilt sandwich.I've begun the process of basting the pieces together--the two slices of bread and the big piece of baloney. I'm only providing this bit of visualization for those of you who don't quilt. I'm not much of a quilter either, as you know, so it's helpful for me too. I'd hate to end up with the baloney on top of the bread--especially if there's mayonnaise involved, which is only a very remote possibility...While sandwiching, I've noticed my mind wandering off to interesting places. One is to where I'm actually contemplating making another quilt in this same arrangement of simple blocks...possibly for Big City Girl. There are so many whimsical fabrics available; a quilt could be tailored to reflect a person's interests. I checked out an online fabric source and found all kinds of prints that would fit BCG: apples (for the Big Apple), wine, books, taxicabs, coffee....just to name a few. If only I were a quilter, I could consider making one of these. But I guess I'd always wonder if she'd just add it to her dustmop collection.

And now moving on to manly pursuits. Today Mr. Gadget bought himself a new BBQ. I'm not sure why he made this purchase, since BBQing has always been my job and he has very little experience. I informed him right after we gave away our old BBQ, just before the move, that if we ever got a new one it would be solely for his use because I had reached BBQ-retirement age and would be happy to just live with my BBQing memories---the many times when I had to juggle the salad-making, condiment-assembling, heating of beans, table-setting and meat-turning--all while doing referee duty for our two fighting children. So now he has agreed to take over the job, but says he only intends to grill hamburgers and hot dogs.

I'm not sure what it is about a man and his BBQ, other than maybe it's the playing-with-fire thing. I think I've come to the conclusion that men feel more secure in their manhood when they have a fast car in the garage and a behemoth of a BBQ in the back yard. I'm chalking it up to testosterone.

Ride biking

Mr. Gadget and I took our bikes to a nearby park yesterday for a little ride. We hadn't been in a while. In addition to getting some exercise, we also got in touch with our inner dorkiness. I thought it might be worthwhile to record the experience, so I took my camera along in my handy little bike bag. I suggested to Mr. G that we stop by some flowering fruit trees so he could take my picture.

"Let's wait till this family goes by," I said, as I noticed a threesome approaching us on the trail. No sense photographing dorkiness with witnesses, I thought. But one of the three must have noticed me getting my camera out of the bag.

"Would you like me to take a picture of both of you?" he asked, before I had a chance to run and hide my dorky self behind the tree.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. "

Afterwards, we continued our ride down the trail, with Mr. G following closely behind me--in case he had to pick up any of my pieces. At one point I almost gave up and pushed my bike off into the woods near a flock of chickens. Yes, chickens. They must have heard about the embroidery.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get the hang of this," I barked at him. "How am I supposed to manage two gearshifts while remembering to brake at the right time and steer in a straight line, all while watching out for oncoming traffic and managing to endure the pain in my butt from this razor-sharp bike seat?"

Mr. Gadget very smartly remained quiet. He probably knew I'd catch on eventually, and it might be best not to offer advice. "Would you like me to take a picture of you with the chickens?" he offered.

So today it's raining and a good opportunity to look over the food quilt to see what's left to do.

I spread the batting over the top to check the fit and noticed enough space left for one more row of squares.
I sure hope there aren't any official quilt rules. I'm just making up my own as I go. As you know, I'm not a big fan of quilting, but it's a lot more fun than running my bike into a hen party, and returning home with a dorky photo and a sore butt.

Favorite uncle

It may look like I'm planning ahead, but I'm not. If I were planning ahead, I'd have 3 or 4 of these guys on the assembly line. Instead, I'm just making one doll at a time--whatever character strikes me at the moment-- at a leisurely pace with no deadline in mind.

Uncle isn't quite finished, so I've just photographed him from the waist up. He'll need a flag to hold, and some shoes. He was about to choose the clodhoppers, but then reconsidered--just in case he decides to fly somewhere. Maybe he'll opt for a nice pair of red-glittered flip-flops.

So I haven't been much in the mood for doll sewing. It comes and goes. But I have a few cut out, so I'll proceed at the aforementioned leisurely pace. I've been making these beanbag dolls (so named because they have weighted pellets inside for almost limitless posing potential) for about 20 years.

I keep thinking I'll make some different kinds of dolls, but then someone will beg or bribe, I mean ask me to make a pilgrim for their aunt who wants one in the worst way. Or a friend will ask if I could make a polka-dotted cat for her granddaughter's birthday, etc. etc. I'd like to stop, but I hate to disappoint. Plus, I have a big fabric stash. I have to use it up or donate it....or, Heaven forbid....make quilts. That's not gonna happen. I'm a gal who likes a craft that will sit in my lap like a big fat cat. Besides that, I've still got the food quilt stewing....and a soup pot full of guilt to go with it.
I did recently pick up this crocheted afghan again--a project I started some time ago for Big City Girl and her boyfriend. They were sharing an apartment at the time and the colors coordinated with a few pieces of new furniture. Then they broke up and I'm not sure where the furniture went because she didn't want to speak of it, and the afghan went into time-out mode. So when BCG eventually gets married (please BCG, your mom can't handle another break-up from a living-together situation) I'll give her and the hubby the afghan. It should be finished by then. And maybe they'll be able to find some nice furniture that will coordinate without conjuring up painful memories of the relationship gone sour. Then again, maybe I'll just keep the afghan and give them a crockpot.

Forewarned is forefooted

I've found the recent news reports about airline carry-on bag charges rather amusing. What next, after this? I'm pretty sure it will be shoes.No shoes, no charge.

Seventy-five cents each, or two for a buck on weekends.

$10.00....unless you're flying JetBlue. Then....and only if they're blue....$7.50.

$20.00. Just be careful not to step on any no-charge toes.

$30.00. Maybe you'd rather save the money and just fly the broom.

50 big buckeroos. Don't forget to ask for a discount if your final destination is the lone star state.

These big clodhoppers are really going to cost you. $100.00. Be sure to bring along your checkbook, or maybe that piggy bank with the money you've been saving for your next trip to the casino.

These will be pretty reasonable, all things considered. It's because they're so darn cute. Only $15.00. Whatever you do, don't let the ticket agent talk you into a pet carrier. Totally unnecessary. Just be firm and state that you'd rather wear your pets.

I hope you've found this review helpful. You know it will eventually come to this. Might as well plan ahead and insure that your feet will be flying smartly.

Sister Mary Rebellious

I'm not sure how long the Mother Superior is going to put up with this one.....what with the garish make-up, the red feather stitching, and the polka dots. Not to mention.....the shoes....

Those fishnet stockings could be the last straw. Sister Mary might be looking for another job soon.

So I was browsing a few blogs over the weekend and I happened upon this. It will definitely bring a smile to your face, and start your week off on the right foot. Much better than watching buzzards.

Buzzards

The roof of our condo has become a roost for buzzards. At first, I thought they were hawks, but when I went outside for a closer look (with the binoculars usually reserved for spying on neighbors, I mean bird-watching) I realized they were buzzards. There's no mistaking buzzards. They have faces only a mother could love.

So the other day--Thursday to be exact--I went to the local library to meet with my once-a-month writing group. The usual drill is that the woman who leads the group suggests a topic on which we all write for 20 minutes. This week's suggestion was to write a letter to someone, or something, as a way of getting something off our chests. In other words, something with cathartic possibilities. Here's what I came up with:

Dear Citizens of the World:

Where has civility gone? Why can't more of us be civil to each other? Why must some of you cut me off in the traffic? Are you in such a hurry you can't give me a break and just let me merge in? And why must you follow me so closely? Do you really think I'm going to go faster just to accommodate your schedule?

And what about behavior in the grocery store? Do you see that sign saying "10 items or less?" You must have at least 20. I have a bottle of milk and a head of lettuce and I must wait behind you because I follow the rules. And maybe you could move your cart over to the side of the aisle while you browse for that can of tomatoes so I can get around you without having to move it myself? And must you push your cart up so far that, when I'm done bagging my own groceries, I can't get to the card machine to push the buttons?

And what about the unruliness of children in restaurants? Must some of you parents let your children run wild? Can't you teach them about inside and outside voices?

And then there's the subject of litter. Can't you save that gum wrapper or cigarette butt till you get where you're going and throw it away there rather than tossing it out your car window? And why not pick up a piece of litter that isn't yours now and then? Do a little something for the environment.

And cell phone users. Please! Must you walk around the store chatting loudly to your friends about things I'd rather not hear? Or sit next to me on an airplane and call everyone you know to tell them we haven't taken off yet? And then there's texting. Everyone seems to be texting--and making me dodge them on the sidewalk as they approach without watching where they're going.

And then there are those stickers on the newspaper. Don't get me started on stickers! Must I peel one off of each and every piece of fruit I eat? And what about packaging? Must I risk serious injury while I try to open the aspirin or the salad dressing? What about old people with arthritis? They can't get into their medication without having a more able-bodied buddy handy. Who is in charge of all this stuff that makes so little sense?

Well, I certainly feel better now. And the buzzards are gone--probably off to find their next meal. Come to think of it, I'm feeling a little hungry myself. Thanks for listening....

A blog clog

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Seems there was some sort of a blog clog. The flow of words from my brain to the keyboard was somehow impeded, and I had been reduced to reading and taking naps. It did eventually dawn on me that I could call one of those plumbing guys to come out to the house and snake out my system--which I did--and now I'm back in business. I've got a little headache though.

You'll notice the sewing machine is now uncovered, and sewing supplies are beginning to appear.There are even signs of life.

See that tape measure? It's an oldie but a goodie. It is no longer a complete tape measure since part of it ripped off a long time ago, but it does have one end that starts with zero and that works for me. There are just certain things from my past that I can't part with.

So yesterday Mr. Gadget left the house around 7:30, just like he did when he went to work everyday. His office was eerily quiet and his lighted neon open/closed sign had been turned off.

His computer was unusually dark.

All this because he had been summoned to jury duty. Very soon after he left, I remembered how it felt to have the house to myself, and I started getting very comfy with the whole idea. Then, about 4:30, he returned and reported that they didn't need him, and wouldn't for at least 3 years.

While he was gone, in addition to pigging out on bon-bons, I decided I'd take the opportunity to check his office for orbs. You may remember that while our new condo was being built, there was a veritable orb convention in his new office.

What a relief to see that his office is now an orb-free zone. I'm sure he'll sleep better at night now that he has this information.

A late edit: Oops! It looks like I missed one at the top of his computer screen. Let's just keep it secret, shall we?

Twitter-esque

Why is it that when I'm searching for something here, I finally must conclude that I've left it there (my frog fabric for instance), and when I'm there, I realize what I really need is here (my long black skirt).

I'm very happy the UConn women's basketball team won the national championship for the second year in a row. Not as much hoopla this time though. Maybe it's getting ho-hum.

Tomorrow I'm having lunch with my Red Hat group. These are real flesh-and-blood ladies. Not the cloth kind I usually hang out with. We're eating German. Maybe I'll have a beer.

I've had the same 4 photos on the fireplace mantel for months. I didn't realize two were the same until Tech Guy pointed it out to me a couple of weeks ago.

I'm planning to take the train down to the big city on Sunday to see Big City Girl, have lunch, and possibly meet her new boyfriend. I'm sure he's already noticing his nerves on edge.

I'm making dolls again. In the works: a pig, cow, ladybug, chef, Uncle Sam, and a nun. I hope they can all get along in the Treehouse till craft fair season. I'll make sure one of them has a ruler. You know who.

Mr. Gadget amazes me by how often he can hurt himself. Yesterday he cut himself putting his shoes away. I'm glad they make one-a-day bandages.

Oh, and that cruise ship I said was ours. It wasn't. Ours was a smaller one behind it. They all look big from the sidewalk. Just keeping it honest.

I haven't started my memoirs yet, although I've had good intentions. I did do some of the daunting dusting and vacuuming though. Yep, I caved.

I think that's enough pretend twittering. From now on I'll leave tweeting to the birds.

Memoirs

Shortly before I left for the west coast in January I received a wonderful surprise in the mail. My aunt had sent me her memoirs.

I've often thought it might be interesting, or fun even, to write my memoirs. Hers have inspired me.

It's a wonderful story full of little pieces of family history I had never known, or more likely, had forgotten. Much of it was probably discussed at family gatherings back when I was much younger and less interested. My aunt is the oldest of four siblings, and she is the only one surviving--in fine form I should add. She travels the world, paints, walks, and pays regular visits to elderly shut-ins within her church and neighborhood. She is Dear-ol'-Dad's older sister.

One of my favorite tidbits is how my father, as a small child sitting on his father's lap, was fascinated by the reflections he could see in my grandfather's glasses. Maybe the reason this struck me so is that I remember playing Double Solitaire with my dad when I was a child and how I could often see the cards he was holding in the reflection of his glasses.

The only thing that puts me off about writing my memoirs is the size of the undertaking. There's been lots of water under the bridge and not all of it was the crystal clear kind you see around tropical islands. Some of it was sort of murky. Do I dare dirty up the clear water with debris from the river bottom? It's a bit of a dilemma.

I did read a book once about memoir writing. The author suggested a good way to make this seemingly daunting task less daunting. He said to pick an incident or memory from your life and write a page about it. Then put that page in a folder marked Memoirs--or Important Information from the IRS, if you don't want anyone peeking. Continue to do this, one page at a time, until you have a fairly good-sized collection. When you think you're done, put the pages in order according to your life's timeline.

This sounds pretty easy. Not too daunting either. I hate things that are daunting. That's why I'm thinking of starting my memoirs pretty soon so I can procrastinate a little longer about the daunting housework....

99%

Now that I'm almost back to 100%....a tiny little cough refuses to budge....I've been trying to decide on a project to take on. The food quilt simmers and I've got the new potatoe, I mean potato, fabric. I even have a fresh supply of clay. I've also got a few home-decorating projects on my list--one of which is to spruce up the dining room wall.

Today I bought some frames with the idea of enlarging some of our travel photos and creating a pleasing wall arrangement. I'm counting on Mr. Gadget to get them all lined up and properly measured, and by all means leveled. This isn't too much to ask of a gadget guy, is it? If previous experiences are any indication, I may have to settle for 2 out of 3. Oh, I'm just kidding! I'm sure Mr. G will do a fine job.

It's so nice to be feeling good again. I have a few housekeeping chores to catch up on....well, except for the dusting and vacuuming. Those are both on my list for next March. Today, with weather that was finally Springy, we opened a few windows to let in some fresh air. I just have to say, it sure is great not having to go out in the yard and pick up sticks and yard debris. Spring clean-up (the new version) will be limited to sweeping the porch and contemplating choices for a colorful front-door wreath. I wonder if the NO's (new owners) of our OH (old house) have blisters yet from raking all those sticks and twigs into piles? Oh, I'm just kidding about that too. I'm sure they're thrilled to finally have a big yard. I hope they're taking good care of Bob.

So I guess while I'm busy doing housekeeping chores, I should find a place to stash this.

Or maybe I'll just put my chocolate bunny in front of it and call it an Easter decoration. You can leave those out till summer, right?