I Have a Comment . . .

When I was young and new to Blogland (three months or so ago), leaving comments on someone's blog was a sometimes frustrating skill I had not yet mastered. Still haven't completely as a matter of fact.

Sometimes I'd leave long, witty comments, extolling the wonders of someone's blog or asking insightful questions, and I'd never hear anything back. Now that's not to say I feel that everyone ought to answer my comments--far from it. In fact, that's why it took me so long to figure out what was wrong. On a couple occasions, I would go back to see what comments other bloggers had left, only to find mine wasn't even there. Had the blog author deleted it? Gee, now my feelings were a little bruised!

I finally realized the problem was me! I was somehow skipping over the step where you have to enter some indecipherable code in order to have your comment posted, presumably to keep robots from commenting on blogs. Yeah, like that's all robots have to do all day long. Hello! Do I LOOK like a robot?! Seriously, though, if there are any robots reading this who have a little time on their hands, hey! Come on over and clean my house, okay?

Typepad blogs are the worst! I don't know if you have the same problem, but that code box that comes up appears on my screen only when I scroll down. And half the time, I think I'm done, so I navigate away and on to the next blog, never realizing that I've missed a step and my profound thoughts are jettisoned off into Internet ether, never to be enjoyed by anyone but me. Bummer!

Then there's the problem of being able to read and reproduce the darn codes! I swear half the time I type the wrong letters and have to start over again with a new, equally undecipherable code. Blogger code is the worst for that problem since they stretch and pull the letters out of shape. And really--how does one tell the difference between a capital W and a lower case w? Drives me nuts! This blog commenting stuff is hard work!

And if you're reading this, scoffing at the notion that duplicating these darn codes is tough, just consider a recent news article. The other day, I read that someone somewhere has come up with the idea of using bloggers to reproduce and "translate" portions of indecipherable manuscripts. Now I'm not quite sure how that works since someone would have to know if what we're typing in is "right," so why they would need us to do the deciphering is beyond me, but if we suddenly have to start typing in code that begins with "it was a dark and stormy night," you'll know that the plan has been put into effect.

Anyway, I'm just saying--if your blog requires entry of a code to post a comment and you haven't seen one from me, you'll just have to use your imagination. Chances are I tried. I really did. But I probably finally gave up and went and fixed myself a drink.

Glass Half Empty or Half Full?

What's your outlook on life? Do you look at the future in an optimistic, hopeful way? Or do you think the best times of your life have already passed you by? Do you expect the best? Or do you hope for the best, but prepare yourself for the worst?

Is the glass half empty, or is the glass half full? This is a question I posed to my friend Kairle the other day, although maybe not quite in the same way. She got me thinking along these lines though.

In my life, when things aren't necessarily going well, I try to look ahead, past whatever unhappy or unpleasant things are taking place, because I know eventually, things will turn around. I try to see the good in people. And, perhaps most importantly, I try to see the humor in the little things, because it makes the big things easier to handle.

So, do you see the glass as being half empty, or do you see the glass as being half full?

I've devised a little quilt-related personality test, if you will, to reveal your outlook on life. Study carefully the fabric below and then answer the question that follows.

Okay, here it is:

ARE THE COWBOYS HALF DRESSED? OR ARE THE COWBOYS HALF NAKED?

Life--it's all a matter of perspective, mixed with a little humor!

NOTE: Take a look at these cute purses made from this fabric: http://morahquilts.blogspot.com/2007/05/myoh-my.html

The fabric is called Wranglers by Alexander Henry.

Meg!

I find I'm easily distracted. And tempted.

There are soooooo many quilt projects I want to make, but no sooner do I resolve to do one thing, than I'm distracted by another. My latest ongoing distraction has been charm squares. How can a tiny packet of fabric joy be a bad thing? They're so cute and inexpensive. Or so I reasoned last fall. Then, before I knew it, I suddenly had piles of these cute little packets popping up all over the Sweat Shop. I know some of you haven't gotten sucked into this charm square addiction, but I obviously have. And those of you who haven't may wonder what the attraction is. Well, I'll tell you.

I like a challenge. And I like a puzzle. And charm squares provide both. The obvious use of charm squares is to just sew the squares together for a quick, simple tabletopper, but that's waaaaay too easy. That's what I did with the first packet I bought late last September. I was at a retreat with some friends who made a "supply run" to a neighborhood quilt shop and came back with these little bundles of joy, so I had to try one too. A week later, my husband was all set up in his recliner watching football, with a seam ripper in one hand and my plain square topper in the other. Just sewing the squares together was too simple and kind of boring. What to do? I had just purchased the new Kim Diehl book and she had a nice snowball quilt, so I thought maybe I'd make one of those--simple enough but a little more interesting than plain squares. Although I'm a huge fan of applique and had planned to put some in the borders, I decided I'd do a little fancy pine cone and pine needle quilting instead. Here's the result:

Of course, snowball quilts are also very simple, so I then I challenged myself to use charm squares to make other quilts, and I've since made several. It's fun to be creative and come up with scrappy quilt ideas and block patterns using limited size pieces and amounts of fabric. Here's another one I made for my nephew for Christmas. This is a photo of just the center blocks up on the design wall, but I think you can see the charm square part better than in the photo of the finished quilt:

For the last several months, manufacturers--primarily Moda--have been marketing jelly rolls. Check out Nicole's blog for a bit of an explanation about jelly rolls if you're not familiar with them. I have yet to make a quilt using jelly rolls, but I bought my first "roll" about two months ago at my local quilt shop. When I was there for Jo's Club last night, during a quiet moment, I asked the owner if she was going to carry more of them. As you can imagine, I was surprised to find that she has been ordering ten jelly rolls with each Moda collection! Where were they then? The one I bought was the first I had seen in her shop. As it turns out, her Moda University Club gets first crack at them, and they obviously don't leave much for the rest of us!

I've found that happening more and more in quilt shops. If there's a club or class that goes with a particular fabric line, those quilters get the first opportunity to buy. It's been to my advantage with Thimbleberries Club and Jo's Club--do I have to join Moda University now too?!

And if jelly rolls by themselves are not enough of a temptation, Moda is packaging jelly rolls in tins. How incredibly cute is that?! Take a look:

Yes, they will be getting those in at the Fat Quarter Shop, and I'm sure other places will be carrying them too. Can't you just see them all lined up on a shelf, looking cute and pretty? I can! I swear with all the distraction of new fabrics marketed in new ways, when will I ever have time to quilt?

Before Jo's Club last night, I talked to my husband on the telephone. "It's really windy tonight," he said. "You know what that means, don't you, honey?," I asked. After a pause in which I could practically hear the gears grinding but going nowhere, he said, "No, what does that mean?" "When it's windy, I have to buy fabric." He laughed and asked, "So when DON'T you have to buy fabric?" I guess he knows about my distractions and temptations all too well, darn it! But it's really not my fault. Really. And I'll tell you why.

Back several months ago, I read about it in Vicky's blog here. Take a look. It's good to know that I can't be held responsible for my buying habits--it's always someone else's fault! It seems I'm surrounded by Megs, especially here in Blogland! Everyone is working on tempting projects, and I just want to make them ALL! Is that too much to ask? I mean, really?

* * * * * * *

EDITOR'S NOTE: In response to a couple comments, don't forget: "It is an ill wind that blows nobody good." HA!

Blah, Blah, Blah

I'm feeling just slightly grumpy today, and I don't know why. Maybe it's because the weather's beautiful, and I would have preferred to not come into work today. But then when DON'T I prefer not to come into work?! So maybe that's not it. The item on that Post-It note in my last post--the one about sleep?--maybe that's it. Around about this time of the week, I start to fade a little bit because I have to get up at the crack of dawn (6:45 a.m.) for work and I can't seem to manage to get to bed before around 1 a.m.

And speaking of that Post-It note, the item about eating? No, that's not me. I really wouldn't forget to eat, and the less time I have, the higher the fat and calorie counts tend to be. Today, though, I'm sitting here eating a relatively healthy lunch--Lemon Grass Chicken Salad (butter lettuce, sliced teriyaki chicken breast, and a bit of cabbage and cooked spaghetti-type noodles with a lemon grass dressing). Since I was running a little ahead of schedule this a.m. (okay, really I was just about on time, but for me, that's early; people in my office always make such a big deal out of it if I come in before 9:05, and I just don't need all that attention), I stopped by LaBou for the salad and an iced latte. (We won't mention the almond croissant--I'm in denial.) Maybe all this healthy lettuce and chicken breast will perk me up a bit. (Another latte would perk me up more, I bet!)

I also thought maybe some retail therapy would help. Thousands of Bolts . . . Only One Nut seemed like a good place to start. If you're a quilter and have never visited this online shop, try it--you'll like it! It's almost like not spending any money at all. Almost. Well, unless you buy something like 10 or 12 yards. But still . . . . He doesn't carry new stuff, but it's a good resource if you're trying to find something older or even just fabric for backs. Just don't go and order what I did. I once told a friend about a fabric I ordered and knew she'd like; somehow, even though her order went in several hours after mine, they filled hers first and she got most of the fabric they had. So if you order and they have a comment box, please put in "Fill Kim's order first just in case I've ordered the same thing," okay? Or, better yet, order a couple extra yards and say, "Send the "xyz" fabric to Kim in grateful appreciation for telling me about your site."

As it turned out, the retail therapy didn't seem to perk me up a whole lot because that fabric's not in my hands yet, but at least I know it's coming. Ah, but tonight I have a Jo's Little Women Club meeting and I will be surrounded with fabric just crying out for a little attention, whispering, "take me home, take me home." And it's a well-known fact that we're not really responsible for doing what the voices in our heads tell us to do, right? That's my position, anyway, and I'm sticking to it!

But if I'm still not feeling all happy and perky after that, and another latte doesn't help, then maybe I'd better just get a little sleep tonight. I've been staying up late working on the sashing for my latest quilt top--I'll post a photo of it so far. Keep in mind that these pieces are just stuck up on my design wall and not sewn together yet, so it's not a sign of me sewing crooked seams in the wee hours of the morning. I have a feeling, though, that after I get home, I'll just wander into the Sweat Shop for a few minutes, and before I know it, I'll be feeling all happy and perky. And then I'll look at the clock and see that it's 1 a.m. again.

"To Do" Meme

I'd really like to rant a bit about the so-called "news" coverage Paris Hilton's jail stay is generating, but then I kind of figure she's getting enough publicity already. But what I don't get is, Why do we care? (Or why does the media think we care?) Oh well, some things are beyond understanding.

Sharon over at Red Geranium Cottage tagged me for the to do list meme. I have some mixed feelings about memes. They're kind of fun sometimes, but then sometimes it feels like a meme is a little like a writing assignment handed out by an English teacher. They're okay if you have writer's block and need something to get you going, but somehow, so far (knock on wood), I've managed to blabber on about nothing every day, for the past three months, and I still have more stuff in my brain to bore you with. But I'll play along with this one, because I like Sharon. (By the way, she's going to be sending me all her FQ bundles--long story, but she has a whole lot and I'm sure they'll arrive here any day now.) Sharon wasn't sure about the rules but kinda thought I should share my to do list with you and then tag five other people. I won't tag you, but if you have writer's block or an interesting to do list, please feel free to play along and act like you've been tagged. And let me know so I can come visit and see what you have to do. (And if you send me a chain e-mail, I probably won't send it on either. I know it means I'll have 97 years of bad luck and all my teeth will fall out, but that's the risk I'll have to take.)

I really like Happy Zombie's to do list--it looks much like mine. But since I'm sure many of you stopping in to visit me have read her blog too, I won't be repetitive. So, without further ado:

KIM'S TO DO LIST:

Imaginary Friends

When I was young, at a time when thinking about the meaning of life seemed like a worthwhile pursuit--and when I actually had TIME for such things--I remember wondering briefly whether other people actually existed or whether, a little along the lines of Jim Carey's The Truman Show, everyone I saw was either (1) a figment of my imagination; or (2) actors in some production of my life. (Yeah, odd, I know! LOL!) Of course, I soon figured out that the story line wasn't interesting enough for a sustained production of Kim's Life, so I fairly quickly discarded that notion.

I guess if "seeing is believing," perhaps we can never be absolutely, 100 percent certain that the people we chat with on the telephone or online truly exist. Still, I'm pretty darn sure this isn't just some big dream sequence I've imagined. You who are reading this--you ARE real, right?

So, I was thinking about this idea I've seen here and there in Blogland of "imaginary friends," a term that is used to describe the people we chat with online but we never really "know" because they don't live in the same neighborhood we do, and we don't get together with them--in person--on a regular basis. And, while I certainly understand the concept behind the term "imaginary friends," I really think the idea may be more the perception of people who don't spend much time online and don't know what wonderful friendships can develop.

Yesterday, I mentioned my good friend Diane who had passed away. Diane and I never met in person, but I'm sure when I'm old and gray(er!) and looking back on my life, I'll number Diane among those friends who meant quite a lot to me. In fact, many of my closest friends are those I've met online. What does that say about me? Maybe it's my hunchback and missing eye. Well, no, actually I think I'm reasonably normal in appearance. But it may be that more ideas are exchanged in writing online than in person, because we chat through blogs or e-mail fairly often, and we do so on our own schedule, when we have time--not, as so often happens, when we run across an acquaintance, in person, and only have a few minutes to "catch up" before we have to rush off somewhere else. Our personalities come through in our words, and we reveal thoughts, ideas, dreams, and hopes that we may not blurt out to our acquaintances.

I have a few close friends, like Kathy and Lisa, who have been around long enough to know quite a lot about me, and me about them. I met them the "old fashioned" way. But I also have several close friends from my online group, and I know they aren't imaginary, because I have been lucky enough to attend two retreats with many them; also, two of my friends from our group flew out to stay with me for a quilt shop hop last year. Yep, they were real.

To me, the people I meet online are just as real as the people I see day in and day out in my office. We may never become more than acquaintances, but the potential for friendship is there--maybe even more so with those of you I meet online since many of us share a common hobby/interest. Who knows? But I do know that I appreciate you stopping by to visit me here in Blogland, especially when you leave me comments--that way, I know you're not imaginary!

Sewing Sunday

Yep, that's carrot bread again. It came out a little better this time, but I think there's still something wrong. It seems to be a much darker bread than what I've gotten at Mimi's and I'm really thinking Mimi's doesn't use molasses (probably because I don't much like molasses and it just doesn't taste right--plus the molasses would make it dark like this). The recipe I have is off the internet and I found a couple versions, but this one appeared most often, so I figured it was more likely to be "the" receipe. Maybe I'll check again and try the other one. Maybe I'll just give up and go to Mimi's. Yeah, that's probably what I'll do. Zuchini bread though--I'm good with that. Maybe next weekend.

Okay, here's what I'm working on. These are the blocks I started with and there's a little story that goes along with them:



Several years ago, I joined an online Thimbleberries group and met Diane. We soon became good friends and chatted online quite often, usually exchanging a couple e-mails a day. Both of us collected older Thimbleberries fabric, and one day I came across an eBay auction for something like 20 or so blocks, a book of different patterns for 8" blocks, and a bunch of fabric from the old Blue Skies line. Diane was also interested in the auction, and since we had an agreement not to bid against one another, we decided that we would split the blocks and fabric if we won. Well, we won and split everything up, but several months later, I received Diane's share of the blocks and fabric in the mail as a birthday gift. What a dear friend! I have to admit that the fabrics in this line are kind of odd and I'm not a huge fan of that teal/blue color, but as a collector of "vintage" Thimbleberries fabric, I appreciated the blocks nonetheless.

A few months later, Diane was diagnosed with cancer and died within a couple weeks. The blocks and fabric have sat underneath my sewing table, along with some of the other fabrics from the line that I've collected over the past couple years, and I finally decided it was time to put them into a quilt. I had co-hosted a year long swap of 8" star blocks for my group, and I used some of the Blue Skies fabric to make up sample blocks, so when I pulled out all my blocks this morning, I found I had 30--just enough to make a quilt that is 5 columns by 6 rows. The only problem with these blocks is that some of them weren't constructed very precisely and the block sizes were a little off. I had recently been looking at Sharyn Craig's Twist 'n Turn book, which presents some excellent solutions for somewhat mismatched blocks, so I decided to try the method out. Here's what I have so far:



I'm not sure whether I'll keep the blocks in this same configuration or change things around a bit. I also haven't decided whether I want to add some sashing between the blocks or leave them "as is." I'll have to look at them a bit and play around some.

The weekend's over and it's back to work tomorrow. I'd much rather stay home and play with fabric but no one seems to want to pay me to do that. So sad. I must go get some tissue so I don't cry all over my keyboard!

So, What's New?

It's Saturday night, and I'm feeling like a big ball of dried sweat. Nice image, huh? Rest assured that once I finish this post, I'm planning to go soak in the bathtub for a bit. First, though, I thought I'd tell you what I've been up to.

Last night, I worked on this month's "assignment" for the Thimbleberries block of the month quilt--two rows of tulip blocks. Once I finished those, I put all the blocks made so far up on my design wall in roughly the places they'll go once all the blocks are finished. If you're at all interested in what the original quilt design looks like, click on the link above. I'm making mine half sized, and I'm using fabrics from my stash and charm packs. I'm not too thrilled with the mismatched sashing pieces in the original design, so I think I'm just going to use the cream background fabric in their place. Here's what my blocks look like so far:

Today's been a busy day. The main event was the graduation party at Lisa's this afternoon. Temps here were in the 90s. Normally we don't get much humidity, but it felt a little humid to me--or maybe it's just because this was the first time I'd spent any length of time outside since the hot weather arrived. The party was great, the food was wonderful, but we adults didn't do anything crazy--at least we hadn't by the time my husband and I left the party, although they were just getting ready to throw the grad into the pool. Just before we left, I overheard someone consulting with the grad's older sister about the idea, and the sister said, "No! It takes girls so long to look nice!" Boy, ain't that the truth! I guess she was out voted, though, judging by the splash and cheers we heard as we were walking to our car. Most of our family was there, as were Terry's and Lisa's, so it was a nice crowd. Best of all, perhaps, Terry's nephew, a brew master who recently opened a microbrew pub, showed up with a couple kegs of his beer. Come to think of it, I guess it's quite possible the party got a little crazy after we left! Here's a photo of my son at the pool. I'm not much of a photographer, but I managed to get a couple lame photos. All the little kids just love him, and he's really good about taking time to play with them. (He's currently coaching an under-12s girls competitive soccer team.)

In yesterday's mail, I received a teapot I had "won" in an eBay auction. (Isn't it genius marketing to make us feel like we "won" something we have to pay for?!) I love teapots, but I like them fairly simple--no gold, no floral, just a nice color glaze. I'm really happy with this one:

Inspired by all of the blogs I've been reading about the great thrift items people have found lately, once we got home from the party, I headed back out to one of our local Goodwill stores. Besides a small rust glazed bowl and a bread pan from the Pampered Chef (which I'm hoping will do magic with the darn carrot bread!), I found this popcorn bowl. That bowl reminded me that I needed new mixing bowls, so I stopped and bought a set of red Corningware bowls on the way home. I also stopped at another store and bought a new tabletop ironing board--mine was pretty worn out and I had burned through the cover.

Once I got home after my little shopping spree, I finished sewing up these shoofly blocks for a block swap with my online Thimbleberries group. They'll go in the mail on Monday.

I have two quilt projects that just need a few more blocks made and then need to be assembled into a quilt top. I think tomorrow I'll pull out one of those and get working on it. I'm fairly excited by both projects, so picking which one to work on will be the hard part.

Well, that's all my news--now I'm heading in for that much needed bath. All this partying, shopping, and sewing is pretty dirty and exhausting! Oh, yeah, and I also bought brand new bed pillows for our bed--which are starting to look extremely inviting right about now!

The Three Amigas -or- How We Eluded a Serial Killer

I was chatting briefly on the phone last night with my sister-in-law and learned she's been faithfully reading my blog. I guess that means I can't really say anything bad about the family. Not that I'd want to, Kath! Really!

Kathy, Lisa, and I have been friends just about as long as I've known my husband. Kathy and Lisa met while attending dental assisting school, and one day, Kathy brought Lisa along to a party at the beach, where Lisa met Terry, and the rest is history. Lisa and Terry have been honorary members of the family for a long time now, so the three of us have spent a great deal of time together over the years. Of course, had that serial killer gotten us, it would all have turned out differently.

Sometime back in the early 80s, the three of us gals hatched a plan to go away for the weekend, leaving the guys at home to tend to my first born and play poker. Lisa wanted to see a show at the MGM Grand in Reno and made all the arrangements--tickets for the show and a room at the hotel. The plan was to go up to Reno for a Friday night show, spend the night there, and travel back down to my in-laws' vacation cabin in the Nevada City area on Saturday. There we would relax, paint each others toenails, and hit the small town of Nevada City for a rip-roaring Saturday night. On Sunday, after a suitable hangover recovery period, we would drive home.

Shortly after work that Friday, the three of us hopped into Lisa's red BMW and got on the road for the 4-hour or so drive to Reno. We checked into the hotel, got ourselves gussied up, and went to see the show. Afterward, we hit the tables and gambled until the crack of dawn when we realized two things: (1) it was much too late to even try to get any sleep, and (2) we had gambled away a good portion of the money we had brought with us. After a short consultation, we decided it was time to pack up for the next leg of our journey and grab some breakfast in the casino restaurant. The thought was that once we reached the cabin, we could relax and get a little sleep before painting our toenails and going out on the town.

With this plan in mind, on the way out of the casino, we stopped in the gift shop and bought a box of No-Doz which we promptly divided between the three of us before starting the nearly 2 hour drive to the cabin. Looking back, it was the weirdest drive I can remember. By the time we were half way to the cabin, we had come to the conclusion that we were invisible. I can't even recall the number of times we were nearly hit head on by cars passing one another traveling in the opposite direction. When you're operating on little sleep and a third of a box of No-Doz, it can be a little disconcerting, I'll tell ya! Of course, not only did we not sleep at all Friday night, but I'd be willing to bet that each of us stayed up late Thursday night, trying on and discarding clothes and packing everything we could possibly need for the trip.

Eventually, around late morning on Saturday, we arrived at the cabin. Let me take a second here to set the scene for you. As you arrive in the little town of Nevada City, you turn away from the town and head up a narrow road, driving about a half hour into the mountains, until you reach a small residential/vacation community situated near a lake. Each lot is about a quarter acre, and the homes are, for the most part, screened from one another by trees. The road up the hill is much better and a bit faster now, but back then, it was barely wide enough for two cars to pass, and occasionally you'd come across short stretches that weren't even paved. On that particular weekend, we arrived at the cabin and noticed that there were very few weekend occupants in the development--unusual since the weather was nice.

After unloading our things and getting everything put away, the three of us chatted for a bit and then settled down for a nap. About an hour into our slumbers, there was a loud knock at the door that woke us up. Now, in the several years I had been going up to the cabin, I had never had any contact with the security patrol until that day, when some eager but bored security guard decided to investigate the red BMW parked in front of the cabin.

After proving to the security guard's satisfaction that we were who we said we were and that we had every right to be in the cabin, we got rid of him and settled back down to nap for another two or three hours before one of us woke up and decided it was time to start thinking about taking showers and getting ready to go out for something to eat and a night of revelry on the town.

It must have been sometime in the autumn of the year, because I remember it became dark early that evening. As we got ready, the three of us talked about what a weird weekend it had been so far, and somehow that led to a discussion about the remoteness of our surroundings. Here we were, three defenseless girls up in the woods where anything could happen. Suddenly the lights went out! With visions of someone outside cutting the electrical lines, the three of us scurried around the cabin, securing all the doors and windows, upstairs and down. I can't remember whether it was Kathy or Lisa who first noticed that there were lights on in a house some distance away, but it certainly sent a chill of fear through us and confirmed our belief that the power had been deliberately cut. Surely it was just a matter of time before our throats were slit by some mad serial killer!

I can just picture my father-in-law when he got off the phone with Kathy, turning to my mother-in-law, shaking his head and chuckling over those crazy girls up at the cabin who had worked themselves up into a state of panic. No, he had no really helpful advice to offer, other than to remind us that the power goes out every so often up there and that the year-round residents down the street were probably running a generator. Just lock up the house, he advised, light some candles, and find something to do until the lights come back on.

Well, that was all well and good until we started to hear noises outside. We kept looking at each other, reassuring one another that it was probably just a raccoon or a deer, right? But why take chances? Wouldn't it be best if we just packed our stuff up and went down into town for dinner? We could then decide whether to come back up and spend the night or head home.

At this point in the story, I think I need to tell you that back in those days, I was a bit vain. There was absolutely no way in hell I was going to go to town on a Saturday night without looking my absolute best, particularly since I was a little low on money and might need someone else to buy me a drink or two. Kathy and Lisa were packed and ready to abandon the cabin while I was still putting on my make up and fixing my hair. Geez were they annoying! Who can rush beauty? And do you remember big hair? Blow dryers and curling irons were my best friends, but they weren't helping a whole lot that night since we had no power! Eventually, though, I was ready to go and we headed toward the door.

Now I'm not quite sure how it came about, but I have a vague recollection of Lisa telling us to stay inside the cabin door. Before I could ask why, I saw her bobbing and weaving toward the car and emerging with a gun that she had retrieved from the glove compartment; she told us she would "cover" us while we loaded the luggage and ourselves into the car. Wait a minute! What?! A friggin GUN?! Lisa's carrying a GUN for Pete's sake?! Now I really was in a hurry, and not from the thought of a crazed serial killer either. The sooner I got my butt seated in that car, the sooner Lisa was going to put that gun away!

As Lisa stood at the top of the stairs leading down from the porch, ready to shoot anything that moved, I stepped out of the door with Kathy close behind. Suddenly I was jerked back--the handle of my luggage had caught on the screen door knob. Then, when it released, I was propelled forward toward the steps. All that commotion threw Lisa into a bit of a panic, and she wasn't sure whether to keep pointing that gun toward the yard or back toward us. I have to tell you that I'm not sure whether I actually fell down the stairs or was diving for cover, but you really can't manage either very well wearing blue platform shoes with 5" heels. Damn!

I don't remember a lot of the details that followed, but eventually we made it down off that mountain, and the first order of business was to find a mini mart that carried hydrogen peroxide and bandages to administer a little first aid--my precipitous journey down the stairs had resulted in a bloody, scraped up leg and torn nylons. We never did enjoy a night out on the town that night. With all that blood, torn nylons, and adrenaline coursing through our bodies with no where to go, we finally settled for dinner at Denny's.

The whole story is much longer and involves a search for a motel room for the night (one place said they had a room available but it was about 20 miles back into the mountains--NO THANKS!), a drive across a bit of the grounds of a cemetary (narrow, dead-end road and wide U-turn), and an argument on the telephone between Lisa and her ever patient, always reasonable husband back at home (with the other drunken poker-playing guys in the background; apparently they all thought the idea of driving three hours to rescue us in the middle of the night was pretty darn hilarious).

Let's just say that Lisa, Kathy, and I survived the ordeal all in one piece, except for my battered, bandaged leg. But you know what? I really didn't mind being scraped up, because it meant I got a bed to myself, while Kathy and Lisa had to share. And Kath? Sorry about this, but I just have to finish the story. After not having slept much in a couple days, Kathy dreamed about snakes all night long and kept kicking Lisa in her sleep!

Dang those were good times! I'm sure that had Starbucks and cell phones been around in those days, our weekend of female bonding wouldn't have turned out quite the same. We never did get to paint each others toenails, but that's probably just as well. Lisa's youngest kid graduated from high school this week, and we're going to a party at their house tomorrow. Kath will be there too. Want to come? I think we'll have some fun!

Bits and Pieces, This and That

Can you believe that absolutely NO quilting has been done in my home for the last two evenings? It's hard for me to believe, but I've been a little sidetracked (1) doing other things and (2) thinking about what to do about adding applique to my recent quilt top. Judy left a comment for me the other day saying, "If that quilt were mine, I'd quilt some feathers in that light area using variegated thread and forget the applique!" You know what? I kind of think she might be on the right track. For some reason, I always forget how much I like the quilting that goes on in light areas of a quilt, so now that I'm reminded, I think I'll just go ahead and take off the little bit of applique I had added and put the top away until I get around to doing some quilting. I have a couple other little block projects I need to get to, so maybe I can start them tonight.

Speaking of tonight, for those of you who are interested, don't forget the new Mark Burnett (Survivor) "reality" show, Pirate Master, starts. Since everything seems to be in summer reruns now, I'm looking forward to it. I suspect it will be a decent show to turn on while I'm quilting.

And if you enjoy watching TV, I would recommend a show my husband and I watched last night on PBS called Craft in America. The three-part show looks at the works of various craftsmen and craftswomen in America. Yes, there were quilters, but there were also woodworkers, potters, weavers, jewelry makers, glass blowers, and many other artisans. Very interesting to learn about the traditions of each craft, listen to the artists, and see the work they do.

I think tonight might be a fast food night in this household. We will be awaiting delivery of a new dishwasher tomorrow, so it seems reasonable to not want to generate a sink full of dirty dishes tonight, doesn't it? Or is that just convenient justification?! LOL! Of course, we still have that lovely carrot bread I made over the weekend and could have that for dinner. Oddly enough, although it's barely edible, I haven't thrown it out yet. I'm kind of funny that way. I know darn well it's going in the garbage before long, but it feels awfully wasteful to bake it and toss it out right away, when it hasn't even had a chance. What if there was some natural disaster today, food was scarce, and I had thrown away the carrot bread? As you can see, it makes perfect sense to keep it in my bread basket for the time being. But I think I'd really rather eat fast food for dinner tonight, baring any natural disaster.

About a month or so ago, I noticed two birds--some type of blue jays, I think. They had built a nest in a pair of juniper trees in our back yard. The mom and dad birds would fly in and out all day long, carrying food to their baby. Our younger cat Spike was also fascinated, I can tell you! One day a few weeks back, I noticed the parent birds acting funny, and rather than flying up to their nest, they kept flying to the base of the tree and squawking. Spike was beside herself with excitement, whiskers twitching, belly to the grass, creeping slowly toward the tree. When I went to chase her off and investigate, I found a downy gray baby bird at the base of the tree in a clump of dried grass. Hoping for the best, I kept both my cats inside the rest of the day, but as the sun went down, I went out to check for any progress. The baby was still there at the base of the tree.

In our neighborhood and in our particular yard, we have several cats who come through during the day and nighttime hours, and I was fairly sure that even if I kept MY cats indoors, some other cat would come along in the night and take that baby bird. The solution that finally occurred to me was to tie a basket into the tree in a fairly protected space as high up as I could manage and fill it with raffia. I then lifted the baby bird into the basket and went back indoors to see what would happen. The rest of the evening and the next morning, the mom and dad birds continued to stay close to the tree, squawking at their baby; then, around noon, I noticed they had disappeared. I was sure the baby bird hadn't made it, but I didn't want to face the reality of a tiny dead bird body lying in that basket, so I put it out of my mind, thinking I would collect the makeshift "nest" sometime in the future.

Last night, my husband took the basket down out of the tree. No baby bird bones or any other sign the bird had even been there. If a cat had climbed into the tree and gotten into or onto the basket, the weight of the cat would have knocked the "nest" out of the tree. I don't know what happened to that little baby bird, but I'm choosing to believe that it was finally strong enough to fly out of the nest on its own the next day. Yes, I know that in many ways, I'm a hopeless hopeful optimist. And that's probably one of the reasons I haven't tossed out that carrot bread yet!