Yesterday I sewed five trees and that fox. The fox is paper-pieced--the first paper pieced anything I've ever made--and it took me almost three hours to sew up that little 5.5 x 5.5 inch fox.
Lacking a design wall, I've taken to pinning the ongoing quilt top to the fabric-covered storage boxes on top of the bookcase. The fox will get put in at the very bottom, among the trees (which are just pinned on at the moment, so I can think about the whole thing for awhile). The green field in the middle was made a year or more ago, just the result of buying a pack of green, pre-cut five-inch squares, sewing them into half-square triangles and then sewing the half-square triangles together at random. I love doing that. I may never get tired of doing that.
In addition to buying fabric this week at a local quilt shop in order to try to match the colors of a fox, I also got a package of fabric that I ordered from the Missouri Star Quilt Company in Hamilton, Missouri. It came in with a thank you handwritten on the packing slip.
That kills me. Can't you just picture the person who wrote that? I can, very clearly. Does it say "Thanks Brenda, Brenda"? Is the person signing her name which is also Brenda? Or does it say "Brendan"? I don't know. But it just kills me. I love to see my name handwritten by other people. Soon cursive writing will go the way of the dinosaurs (they're no longer teaching it in many schools in America) and those of us who know how to read and write cursive will be like archaeologists able to unearth and interpret the past.
In other news, Dave and I had dinner with our friends Glen and Kathleen on Friday--they brought me a stethoscope as congratulations for graduating and they showed off their fitbits, which made me want a fitbit--and then we had lunch with my brother on Saturday. Saturday afternoon, we ran some errands (Target, the pet food store, Walmart to pick up my brother's prescriptions for him), then we came home and put everything away and lolled about. I sewed a bit more but my back and neck are still being troublesome (I've started physical therapy which I think I mentioned, but on Friday morning, I did something dumb and strained the right side of my neck so that I have trouble turning my head very far to the left). (Sigh.)
It's Easter Sunday of course and I am long out of practice for celebrating Easter in any way. My mother is in Ireland right now and I wonder how that hyper-Catholic country is celebrating Easter.
Here is a picture of my brothers and me on Easter, forty-some years ago.
I was probably four years old in that picture. Scotty, my younger brother, would have been forty-six years old as of three days ago. (He died about fourteen years ago). My older brother celebrated his fifty-first birthday last month.
Where does the time go?
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