It's 2:12 on Saturday morning. "Wow," you think, "that woman is like the Energizer Bunny." And ordinarily, you would be right. This is the time that I am frequently shutting down the popsicle stand after dancing with geriatric wolves at the church singles' dance. My friends are delivered to their respective homes or cars, LittleBit has yielded up the computer and gone to bed, and I'm enjoying a mug of hot milk and some cinnamon toast before rummaging around for the footie sleeper.
Not this morning. The past week has been easier than several that preceded it, both at work and in my personal life, for which I am thankful. Nevertheless, there were far too many moments when I suspected that somebody around here had prayed for patience and not told me. [What? this doesn't happen to you? You didn't learn not to pray for patience, because then things would happen that you have to be patient about? I caught onto that scam several decades ago.]
So on the one foot, it would have been great to join my friends out on the dance floor and boot-scoot my troubles away. And on the other, my body was screaming for an early bedtime. When you fall asleep playing Sudoku on the AARP website, you are too tired to be good company. The friend from church who had wanted to go with me to the dance, had to work late: my cue to call Brother Sushi and tell him he was on his own.
The boss let us leave an hour early. I was home well before 5:00, through the inbox and the knitting blogs by 5:45, and asleep at 6:30. I woke at 12:14, pressed the fabrics for today's quilt blocks, spent half an hour checking and rechecking the math on the pattern page, because the proportions are a little different from last month's block, and cutting out a bajillion little strips of fabric.
The blocks are finished and waiting atop my tote for our jaunt to the quilt shop in another eight hours. The sewing machine is turned off. The iron is off and unplugged. I can't decide if I want to nuke a mug of milk and try for another waltz with the sandman, or grab the jacket that I cut out two months ago and see how much I can accomplish.
We pick up the last blocks for this year's series quilt today and sign up for next year's quilt. All five of my daughters-by-birth and my new one (Firstborn's best friend in FL) are participating, either in person or through mail order. 7 people x 12 blocks = 84 links in the chain-mail of family solidarity and tradition. [Or, for the cynical among you, seven quilt tops that may not get quilted before the Second Coming.]
When all the blocks for this year's quilt are done, I'll get together with Secondborn for a photography session. I'm combining my blocks with LittleBit's for a new quilt for her [Littlebit's] bed. All bets are off as to who is going to do the quilting. I may give her a quick lesson in hand-quilting and say "knock yourself out, kid!"
Next year's quilt ought to be easier to document while in progress, as I get my Christmas Club money in early November and will buy my digital camera shortly thereafter. Now there's an incentive to tidy up my sewing corner!
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!