True Confessions

Where have I been? Under a rock! What have I done? Laid on my back, stretched out my arms. Wiggled my toes and ankles. I actually had a dream about doing that; lying in something warm and encompassing, wiggling all of myself, settling in. Then I guess I woke up. 

In the midst of housekeeping last Tuesday, I rashly asked Diana to fold up the top quilt, put it in the basket and stow it on the shelf. And now spring has fled. It even snowed yesterday. Temps are in the forties, day and night. Blah. Plus chilly, but I can't reach the shelf, and spreading out the quilt is too much. 

The parking lot trees are blushing. This redbud hasn't long to go. I showed the picture to Rose, and her first comment was "No cars!" Right she is. That is busy state highway 43 out there, and I watched cars going left and right for some time before I tapped the shutter. There are cars out of frame, left and right.

Weaving has occurred possibly half an hour some days. I'm tired of Whig Rose, and ready to rethread for a maze type pattern. I have several in mind, but I think I'll select one that has an escape route. But there are so many others. And here is one other, not a maze, but enticing. I'll put it in the que.

It needs to visually sparkle, but how to make it do so. That is my conundrum. And in the meantime, I shuffle along.

Beth and Ruth came for my birthday last week, carrying a very heavy shopping bag. After some brief preliminaries, Ruth flung open my freezer door and began inserting pints of ice cream. Seven, to be exact. I've thrown away two empties, so far.

Last Wednesday, in the middle of yoga class, my phone rang. I grabbed my shoes and hurried out to talk to Ruth. She wanted me to know, with apologies, I would find one of the cartons half gone.

While we were at it, we arranged for next Thursday to go to Lake Farm Park for the quilt show. We've gone often in the last many years. In the beginning I walked, then a cane, then two. Now I use a walker, unabashedly. People often hold open a door for me. If they cut me off, well, their mother did a poor job of raising them!