Almost out of our hands

Blocks laid out on the floor yesterday

Pressing seams

Pinning

More pinning

Sewing

Finished top

Backing

Cutting, pinning, ironing, sewing. That's all it takes. This will go to Jan this week, for quilting on Friday. 

I sewed all the long rows to their lavender headers and footers. Laura pinned and sewed all the rest. I ironed a lot, and that's really tiring. Last picture is Kay, folding the fabric that will be the back of the quilt.

So, who sees the one block that is a sewing mistake in the first picture. I saw it as soon as I looked at the picture, and went to tell Laura. But, she had already spotted and fixed it.

Lucky

Invariably I’ve found myself on the right side of lucky. It’s what happens when you expect the best and deal with the worst. This is a light hearted post, but I want to say one more time, a resounding YES to the women of Alabama.

We all have been making and using luck for close to a year now.

Luck can’t be used up, only used. I love the stuff.

I’m descending here, as in a balloon. From the big concept of luck to little bits that can be pieced together. How lucky I have nothing much to do and all day to do it. Have a granddaughter who began at age seven to piece quilts, knows how to match points and iron seams. How lucky for our friend who is a charming scatterbrain that she mentioned in the nick of time she wanted to make a quilt for her mother for Christmas.

The best luck of this quilt is that Kay can sit on Christmas day, as the household bustles around her, and chat with her mother and sew down the quilt binding.

I stopped to write this, waiting for Kay and her boys to come work on the quilt. Laura is leaving for a day with her mother, and maybe siblings, so the little house will only be close to bursting at the seams. The blocks all are sewn, trimmed, pressed, laid out as they will be sewn together.

After Kay sees the proposed layout, we will stack up and label each row, 1, 2, etc. But, more sewing than already done lies ahead. 

Each block will be separated by a strip, called a sashing, a half to an inch wide. We haven’t decided yet. It will affect the overall size of the quilt, of course. A block will be set at the intersection of the sashings around each block. My sister calls these the cornerstones. It’s part of the process of keeping a quilt square, a solid piece that can be quilted without shifting.

A quilt is a piece of construction, like anything else. Do it right, it’s done forever. It will be admired for generations, and folks will say, “How lucky you are to still have this.”

Actually, I’m really looking forward to watching Kay teach two boys how to use a rotary cutter to make pieces of the quilt for their grandmother. I’ll post more pictures, maybe tomorrow.

Amused, and actually laughing

Awhile back I swabbed my cheek and sent it off to find out who I am. Well, let me tell you. Forty percent of my genes originated in Kenya. Less than ten percent are Western European. The majority of the rest of my maternal DNA is Eastern European. Latvia, Slovenia. Hungary, Croatia. And on and on. And my mother-in-law thought she married a Bohunk.

This all is my “motherline”. Lacking a Y chromosome, my father’s ancestry cannot be traced. I would need to persuade a male relative to contribute a swab of cheek cells, too.  I am totally out of brothers, and down to three nephews, one of whom might be willing to participate. 

My mother was two percent Irish, half Ulster and half Cork.  My Dad was all Irish. I think. It may be worth asking my nephew to participate, simply to learn where those ancestors migrated from, to Ireland.

And, how about Sweet Home, Alabama. I am so proud of all the African American women and men who sent Doug Jones to the senate to fill Jefferson Davis Sessions’ vacated seat. A lot of groups reclaiming their voice.

I went to breakfast this morning with the friend I first made in the counselor’s offices; the one who got a sweet note from my brother Mel, when they were fifth graders. Most of my friends are like minded, and Linn and I exchanged a happy high five across the table this morning. Mel reveled in politics; Watergate was his specialty.  Were he alive today he probably would be constantly apoplectic. Mel had one daughter; Walt had the three boys.

The quilt we commenced last night apparently is a “meant to be”, too. You know how some things just fall into place. Simple pinwheels though they be, Laura is setting the blocks so nicely that it hurts my heart to quilt this with a sewing machine. My sister quilts professionally, but I know full well her schedule is booked six months in advance.

Laura, sewing blocks last night

I also know things happen, so I called her today and told her about the quilt that deserves professional quilting—before Christmas. I explained Laura’s beautiful sewing (Jan expected no less; Laura was the meticulous student!), and said my plan was to ask Kay to present the quilt top only to her mother and then bring it back from Texas to be quilted, or, was there the teeniest, tiniest possibility Jan had time to squeeze in a not difficult queen sized quilt before Kay and her boys left for Texas.

Finished pile right, a few left to do, left

If we deliver the quilt next week, before Friday, Jan can do it on Friday. We certainly can deliver it in good time. Laura and I fly to Wisconsin that Friday, but Kay can find her way back to Jan’s studio, in plenty of time before she leaves Saturday to drive to Texas.  I do like this sort of present.

Why we cover potential cat futons

Yesterday yields tomorrow, which is today

For the first time in six years, Laura was sent home from school yesterday. I could tell you, for not wearing enough clothes, but that's not the real picture. 

Leftover picture of Laura's cheesecake. 

I bought her a spring form pan several cheese cakes ago.

Brilliant.

The phone rang at 8 a.m., when I am barely considering being up. The kid was sick, and number nine to be sent home, before first bell. When I picked her up, she was wearing those stupid leggins.  Possibly the fleece lined pair, otherwise, they're thin. A summer tee. The plaid blanket she received for her birthday. No coat. Less than twenty degrees out. Apparently delirious when she left, but was reprimanded for thin thinking, nevertheless.

Laura went back to bed until supper time, and so did I. In case I was catching something. After supper, Kay came over and, in her inimitable way, made my day.

She wants to make a quilt for her mother for Christmas. Math equals 25-12=13 days, if she gets up early to wrap it. Or, a day on the plane to Texas. Whatever. She thinks she and Laura can construct and quilt it in two evenings and one weekend. She might as well be a daughter of mine!

Today I started putting together the pinwheels. I'm not strong enough to rotary cut them, but I can sew them this far and then work on the cut pieces. 

It is snowing something fierce, too. I have to get Laura after school to stop at her sponsor's house (academic year abroad) to get her paperwork signed. No, my steps are not shoveled, my car not cleared. I think I'll start at 2 to leave by 2:30. I need to engage a snow shoveler.

12:30. I have ninety minutes to sew some more blocks.

Birthday party survival plan

Laura came up on and turned into her sixteenth year in good order. She wanted a party. 

Our neighbor Cathy recognized my distress, and offered to organize it. Back when my girls were in school, every birthday was celebrated at a restaurant of their choice with friends of their choice.  They thought it was really cool, and you know what this teen-age inept mother thought.

This is what Cathy did. But, wait, it gets better. And, keep an eye on the helium balloons that go missing.

The party. Edibles were East of Chicago pizza, which we highly recommend. It's almost as good as Laura's homemade. And, root beer and cherry coke. And, thank God, water. And, Laura's fab cheese cake. Gone, gone, gone. No pictures.

Some  of the prezzies.

The organizer, and her grateful neighbor. Then we all went to the movies. 

We (the young women) saw Coco in one theater, and the organizer and her grateful neighbor saw The Orient Express in the theater next door.

Orient ended fifteen or so minutes before Coco, and Cathy and I stood in the lobby looking for a current picture of Kenneth Branaugh. Well, Cathy was all over her phone; I was amused. He did come up looking OK, though.

Then, Coco began exiting. First, a hall of adults, moving quickly and looking backward, followed by such howling and wailing. Literally, a sound chamber of banshees. The Coco adults were gone before our six teens arrived, some supporting others. 

Laura, Lexie and Meredith were holding up Anneka, Annie and Kayla, the howlers. That was so SAD, the three wailed in unison. Cathy and I had splitting sides and sore ribs, both from holding it in and losing our composure.

It was dark and it was snowing, and it was time to get back, so three teens with composure and two adults with some composure, herded the three sad-o's to our cars. I had Meredith, Anneka and Annie. Before the door was shut, Anneka swooped up the balloons from the floor. "They're still here," triumphant and recovered.

"How will you get a hole in it?" Annie's little voice. "Just like that!" Alvin's chipmunk voice rejoined. "Oh, My, God," pass it to me. Don't let any out. Three chipmunks travelling home. Grandma (Jo by now) in the front seat, ribs aching, eyes streaming, Bob Dylan, Everybody Must Get Stoned...

Say ON-A-Kuh. It makes the story even better.