It finally occurred to me this afternoon that instead of getting down on the floor to pin and measure and adjust what needed pinning and measuring and adjusting, I could do all of that on a bed.
And of course I had Jack to oversee the operation.
I had planned to get the quilt/blanket to the stage today where everything was done and the letters cut out and ready to sew on with embroidery stitches. And by the way- Maggie wants it to say "Maggie."
And I may leave it there as to layers of flannel or I may do something else. I'm not sure. I'm letting it all simmer in my brain tonight.
I'm not very happy with how it's coming along. I'm not very happy with anything today, truthfully. It's been gray all day long and getting colder and might freeze tonight. I have not brought one plant in but am hoping that being on porches will protect them at least enough that they don't die.
So maybe it's the weather affecting me or maybe I'm just paying for my days of slothfulness or maybe it's just one of those days. I don't know. But even when I sat down at the piano I felt despair. It occurs to me that not only am I still making the same mistakes I was making a week ago- I am making the same mistakes I made as a child. This is a rather depressing thought, as it is clearly apparent to me that there will be no time in the foreseeable future in this lifetime where my piano playing will improve in the least.
Honestly, I was embarrassing myself this afternoon.
But just now Lis called and I am tremendously cheered. She allows me my black humor and black humors, as well. She makes me laugh and I make her laugh and we commiserate and celebrate and encourage each other. It's a beautiful thing.
I've only heard from my husband once today. He sent me a picture of their breakfast this morning. Unlike the woman who cooked for them on his other trip to Canada a few weeks ago who was very heavy on the canned peas and cooked carrots, which he hates, the woman who hosts them near Edmonton appears to make homemade bread, buns, cakes, soups, and delicious casseroles. Sending me pictures of these meals is tantamount to sending me pictures of a college girl in a bikini.
Meanwhile, I send him pictures of Maurice's butt when she tries to cuddle with me which is not often, the deep meaning of which can be interpreted as "Come home, your insane cat misses you."
Well. We work with what we have.
Tomorrow I will be going to town to pick up Levon and August from school and hopefully entertaining them. I will be so glad to see them. I hope they will be glad to see me. Oh hell. I just realized I have no treats for them. WHAT KIND OF A GRANDMOTHER AM I?
Maybe I'll teach them to crochet. That's better than ice cream or cookies or video games, right?
No. No it is not.
And on Saturday, my boyfriend is coming home. I have no idea what time. I suppose I should ask him. If he'll be here for supper I need to make homemade bread, buns, cakes, soup, and a delicious casserole. Also a salad from our garden.
As I said, we work with what we have.