I’d love to have a dedicated quilting room where I could spread out, never tidy up if that’s my wont and hide my stash from Himself who glances askance at its largesse though never dares to ask if I have enough and The Diva who’s getting quite covetous of its endless potential. Alas, I do not.
What I do have is a corner of our dining/living room. It suits its purpose, but, oh, to have more space.
That’s Lennie the Featherweight nestled in his throne.
The kitchen makes a great space for pressing. What, you expect me to COOK in there? Pshaw!
And the dining table usually plays host to a cutting mat and rotary cutter.
Sunday I’d finished up another top and had it laid out on the living room floor to measure for backing when Himself walked across it…in his nasty ‘I stroll the streets and dog poop infested backyard’ tennis shoes. I admit to saying something uncharitable. And then joking about burying a body. Kind of. I got quite a bit of sucking up outta that faux pas.
All that to say, here’s my finished top!
I’m not a fan of borders so this one’ll be borderless. It’s perfect for lapsized.
The lighter floral is the backing; the dark blue is the binding.
In a chilling echo of the Holocaust, Jews are ‘ordered to register and list property’ in east Ukraine after pro-Russian militants take over government buildings
U.S. condemns leaflets urging Jews in east Ukraine to ‘register’
Secretary of State John Kerry calls pamphlet found in Donetsk ‘grotesque’
Jews also reportedly asked to register lists of their own property
John Kerry over night called this “Registration of Jewish people” in Ukraine as “grotesque” I blogged it already and ask people PLEASE, for the sake of us all to reblog this and get word out, this is a total repeat of the start of WWII. Russia stopped WWII, how Ironic they are about to start WWIII
I have been blogging HARD for a year now on this blog and my old one “Prayingforoneday” that this was coming, and here we are, this IS a road to World War 3…
This is all too familiar isn’t it? And it cost’s £50 to register, by force, this scares me, this happened before very slowly. IF you know history, you will see and feel the actions that were taken pre-WWII almost ghost those of today, they are the damn same. I got mocked by some Idiot called “T” over this, the fool can hardly tie his laces. History repeats and we do not notice, only the educated can and will see WWIII is coming, these events happened pre-WWII. If you think I am wrong, prove me wrong. I know WWII inside out, this is how it started, do you know this? Or is Shaun making up stories and placing them on 200 websites again?
WAKE UP, PLEASE!! This is just the start!
World leaders and Jewish groups condemned a leaflet handed out in the eastern Ukrainian city of Donetsk…
‘Tis the season in Texas for temperatures to fluctuate for months on end between frigid, below freezing temps (go ahead and laugh, my Yankee brethren, but down here the 20s are cold) and balmy 70s. For this reason, I hate my home state. Pick a spot on the thermometer and stick with it already…like Milwaukee! Anyway, thanks to these lovely climate mood swings, it’s not uncommon for a lot of us to parade around with drippy noses, clogged sinuses and general, all-around bad attitudes.
I don’t call it ‘winter’ anymore…it’s now officially sinus season. Santa please bring me Kleenex and Mucinex.
I had to break in another doctor Thursday because the last one wanted to treat me for crap I wasn’t even complaining about…kind of like going for a sinus infection and being asked for a stool sample. Where do these people come from?! I fear I’m becoming one of those people who shops around for a doctor, although in my case it’s not for drugs, it’s for proof of intelligent medical establishment life. I feel like playing Whitesnake’s song because here I go again, but Himself’s no David Coverdale and I’m certainly no Tawny Kitane. Besides which, I have no intention of writhing around on the hood of a Jaguar..it’s too darn cold and it wouldn’t be the same as an American muscle car! I have my standards.
But, I digress.
Friday’s acupuncture adventure involved sinuses and ears…and smoke. I like smoke. Have I mentioned that before? I got a slew of needles to the face and ears…and a few in my wrists to quell the effects of the antibiotics on my stomach. Boo nausea, yay needles! I don’t even know what to call the gizmo she raked over my face but she lit (yay, matches and flames!) something I think she called ‘mox’ and put it into aforementioned gizmo and rubbed across my sinuses and by my ears. All was well until I heard hair singeing and then it was briefly pucker time. As it turned out, I still have my hair and I didn’t embarrass myself.
The last hurrah involved an ear cone. Interesting, a little weird, kinda gross (do I really want to see what comes out of my ears?) and it involved, you guessed it, fire. Count me in. The auditory experience of resin wrapped linen crinkling as it burned its way down toward my ear earned me my doctorate in working buttonholes in the seat cushions. I’d catch glimpses of smoke wisping toward the ceiling and think, once again, that God has a really good sense of humor.
I keep waiting for the day Miss J offers something really kooky, but knowing me I’ll be all in.
The Native Americans got it right. Go out into the great wide-open, snag some roots, leaves, moss…and presto, you’ve got medicine…taking advantage of nature’s pharmacy and calling it a day all without sitting in a germ-infested waiting room with other viral individuals.
I’m beginning to think that whole scenario is a much brighter idea than ensuring my care (and that of the family) to someone who may have just eeked their way through medical school by the hair of their chinny-chin-chin. I believe that’s why they call it ‘practicing’ medicine. Then again, knowing me, I’d probably snatch up a handful of Belladonna and it’d be toes up for old QuiltnMama.
I am now a guinea pig, on the hunt for a medicine/lifestyle change/diet that will make the aches and pains of what turned out to be a diagnosis of fibromyalgia lessen, if not go away altogether. Is there anything for the fatigue? Stop laughing, a girl can hope. What’s interesting is that I found out from someone other than my illustrious physician that I actually have fibro.
Long story short, she wanted me to have a sleep study based on the fact that I responded ‘yes’ when asked if I snore. Apparently, this isn’t enough to qualify for health insurance to pay so…no sleep study for me. As a side note, Himself has assured me that I do not stop breathing in my sleep although at times he’s thought of holding a pillow over my face to shut out the snoring. Did I mention I sleep with earplugs to drown him out? Anyhoo, the sleep center nurse was rattling off a brief (haha) rundown of my medical history when she pops out with ‘Oh, I see you’ve also been diagnosed with fibromyalgia’. Well, that’s news to me since dear doc never bothered to tell me.
So, it was back on the phone to the doctor’s office and a very polite (stop rolling your eyes, I am capable of polite) request for them to tell me exactly what the hell she thought was wrong with me and to call me something in to try to alleviate all these delightful symptoms. I’m surprised insurance covered the Lyrica. Time will tell what awesome side effects I get to endure, one of which is weight gain. Lovely. Pretty soon I may be big enough to steer like the Titanic. And we know how well THAT turned out.
“Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth, And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence. Hovering there I’ve chased the shouting wind along and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.
“Up, up the long delirious burning blue I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace, where never lark, or even eagle, flew; and, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space, put out my hand and touched the face of God.”
One last flight for my Papa, Harry F. Schacherbauer, who passed this morning.