I have, to use the technical term, been ‘piddle farting’ around lately when it comes to sewing. Forget quilting, it’s taking all I’ve got just to sew a few stitches before the energy level drops to zilch and I wake up the next day, on the sofa, snorting and drooling. Lovely picture, but there it is. Gotta love fibromyalgia.
At any rate, I got a few more Tula Pink blocks completed and have found that ‘scrappy’ is not something I enjoy. Scrappy = chaos in my orderly universe and it’s giving me the hives. But I’ve committed myself, to the project not the asylum, so I only have, oh, about 86 more blocks to go. What color straightjacket should I choose when I’m done? Something to complement my ensemble or should I be bold and go for contrast?
Not as bright as some of the others, but that’s okay. Maybe they’ll provide a resting spot for the eyes instead of making the whole quilt some sort of psychedelic horror show.
This morning it was lovely and cool with just a smidgen of wind. I begged Himself to let me open the windows, but being a magnet for every particle of pollen in the known universe, he nixed that idea pretty quick. So, I improvised.
I figure I might have a month’s worth of mornings that will be suitable for back patio sewing. After that, we’ll be frying eggs out there. It was loverly and quiet and testosterone-free as Himself and His Awesomeness sweated it out doing….well, I’m not sure. Manly stuff, I presume, most probably involving bodily noises and car movies. But that’s just a guess.
Happy Mother’s Day a day early to all the ladies out there. I raise my glass to you (mainly because The Co-Defendants have driven me to drink) but also because we moms rock!