There were a few surprises in the boxes. One was a ziplock bag containing old shirt buttons. Another was this teeny, tiny letter written by my great-grandmother to my mother--which required a magnifying glass.
It's a sweet little letter from a grandma to her granddaughter--not unlike one a grandma might write today. Except, just before she signed off she said she had to go milk the goat. I'm not even sure I'll ever have grandchildren, but if I do I don't think I'll ever be a goat-milking grandma.
I've finished most of the machine quilting on the food quilt. The job I did is pretty pathetic, so I'm never going to allow it out of the house. On the plus side, there are so many busy prints they should distract from the uneven stitching and the bumps and puckers. I definitely need to read Quilting for Dummies before I think about making another one.
So Mr. Gadget and I are about to embark on our winter trek to the Calcondo. Preparing for this trip is lots easier than it used to be. Mr. Gadget has pretty much an entire wardrobe out there, so he doesn't need very much suitcase space. But since my clothing size is ever-changing I have to take more, so I encroach. I'm an encroacher extraordinaire.
Now I'm trying to think of something witty to end this blog post with, but I must be at my wit's end. Maybe I'll go look for a goat. Which reminds me....I had an older cousin who used to have farm animals. One day we were visiting and this cousin--I won't mention names--was milking his goat and he called me over to watch. And then he squirted fresh goat's milk in my face. I've never been fond of goats since then, and I've never forgiven my cousin.
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