Posts

Like trips around the world

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The center of a Mandolin block I started during the weekend. Looking forward to working on it again today. We're home a day early from our daughter's house in the San Francisco Bay Area. On Saturday my husband got a head cold, so the decision was made to cut short by one day our long weekend visiting family. While I lamented his illness, leaving was the best option, and I went to bed that night mentally prepared for a road trip the next day. Which occurred, but not as I had imagined, for when I woke Sunday morning, my lower back was a TRAIN WRECK! No idea what I did, but it was something AWFUL, and I spent the early hours hobbling around, attempting minor stretches, as well as ingesting over the counter painkillers, all to no avail. Meanwhile my beloved was head cold sick as the proverbial dog (Do animals get head colds? I have no idea!), our plan to depart on his account now suddenly scuttled by my predicament, DUDE! I was literally limping around my daughter's house, trul...
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Being brave

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Home again and happy to be here! The roses above greeted us on the front porch; clouds were thick and we even received some drizzle last night, although night now depends on your mood. It was still light at well past half eight (8.30), the heavy mist reminding us that while we'd been in Nevada, now we were back along the North Coast. I wondered what the chickens would think of rose petals this time next year.... Lol! Chickens are still on my mind, but other items lurk in the gray matter, one of which *might* be the start of a novel. Maybe. Possibly. Really? I don't know for sure, but I am feeling like closing my eyes, allowing the muse to open the door where my writing hat lives. The muse could wander into that room, setting the cap gently atop its head, and maybe, MAYBE, I'll find myself writing another book. In the interim, there are chickens to consider, the garden in need of attention, some sewing to ponder, and bravery is necessary for it all. On Being Brave is the t...
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I write the life I want to live

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Nevada in the distance. Sometimes, as I'm reading one of my novels, I realize how dear are the characters and how grateful I am to slip into that fictional realm. I don't live near my kids or siblings, but in many of my stories, they are at my beck and call. For eleven years I dwelled in Yorkshire, England, and while we loved it there and would have liked to have stayed longer, it was never where we were meant to remain. Yet that decade plus one year taught my heart that despite distance, beloveds are never truly far away. And now, pushing twenty years since our return, the children we raised there have their own families, and that is how my existence has evolved. Except, lol, within my books. In several of my novels, sprawling families live yards away from one another, multiple generations residing in the same house. I grew up as the one of the youngest in my large clan, surrounded by many elders who inspired my sense of how necessary are all ages within one's related grou...
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It's four p.m. again

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A Kaffe Fassett placemat I finished earlier today. The purple thread used for hand-quilting disappears into the print, a nice effect. On Tuesday, 13 May 2025, it's once again after four. In the afternoon. How the heck are the days passing SO QUICKLY? I honestly don't understand, although my dad warned me about this over twenty-five years ago. Dad said, "I remember being your age and thinking time went by fast. And now it goes by EVEN FASTER!" He wasn't kidding! Because each day passes, and suddenly it's nearly four p.m. Time to think about doing my stretches. Then it IS four o'clock, dude! Sometimes I do my stretches, lol, like today. After wrenching my knee in March, my exercise routine went wonky. My knee is pretty good now, although I hurt my hand doing some raking a few days ago, yet icing my right index finger worked wonders. And now it's four twenty-eight, in the afternoon, in nearly the middle of May. If Dad was still alive, I'd ask...
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In my Humboldt opinion

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Snapped a few days ago in our backyard. Spring is definitely in the air! This morning my husband took me out to breakfast, an early Mother's Day treat. On our way back we chatted about the baby chicks we plan to get at the end of the month. Further conversation emerged, and I said, "Well, in my humble opinion...." I can't recall to what I was referring because he immediately replied, "In your Humboldt opinion?" I chuckled, he did too. If I didn't like the title of this blog, maybe I'd change it. But In A Bookish, Quilty Mood suits this space, although in my Humboldt opinion, a little more of where I dwell could be included. It was cloudy when we left home, sunny upon our return. I hurriedly put bags of non-perishable food by the mailbox for the Stamp Out Hunger food drive, which were collected less than half an hour later. It's a quiet weekend for us; no protests planned or guests visiting. I am hoping to watch some playoff basketball later, if ...
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A world filled with colour

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Done! And so much fun in the doing. I finished the Lego rainbow puzzle. Another puzzle is on the table, edge pieces accumulated. It's more monotone, not sure how it's going to be. I am SO PLEASED to have these in my stash and cannot WAIT to use them! In fabric news, I've accumulated several prints from Guicy Guice's Entwine collection from 2021(???). I'd wanted to EPP these beauties into a quilt, then considered machine-piecing them instead. Then today I stacked up what I've gathered, some extra wovens included for good measure, and in doing so realized machine piecing is probably not the correct manner, or at least in stitching squares that would have measured three and a half inches once sewn. Instead I'm back to hand-sewing, or planning to hand-stitch once I've chosen an appropriate fabric for the center X, in white/light cream. As I was telling my husband, English paper piecing with low volume fabrics is tricky, as often the folded-in seam allowance ...
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The unexpected joy of not writing

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When happily not writing, I manage some gardening. Or potting up marigold plants, placing them on the back steps. It's a funny concept, that title. Yet I authentically felt that a day or two ago, like some kind of gift from heaven. Because when I'm not writing, often I'm cross about it. Not in a spoil my day sort of magnitude, but in this niggly I should be accomplishing something related to writing. And no matter how busy I am with other agendas, no matter how happy I am, always (ALWAYS) there is a deficiency if I'm not writing something new or basking in the glow of new work recently completed. If I wanted to analyze that, and I don't necessarily do, but if I CHOSE to analyze it, I'd say that for much of my adult life all I wanted as a personal goal was to write fiction. I didn't get started until I was forty, and for the last nineteen years (GULP), writing has been my.... Okay, first, since I haven't written anything new (and finished it) in well over...
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