In A Bookish, Quilty Mood

Written earlier today before the granddaughters woke.   I foresee plenteous machine stitching in the near future. I tried some hand-sewing this week and boy my shoulder was cranky. I am in the treatment pipeline for said right shoulder, but medical stuff is slow as snot these days, yet I am hopeful to be back in my usual routine of nightly hand-stitching as soon as is feasibly possible. (I might sneak in some surreptitious hand-stitching merely to have completed the necessary blocks to snap a photo of Alexandria quilt progress. Not that I am planning to tackle it as soon as I can sew with ease, but one of these days I'll get back to that beauty!) January 2025; the long sides aren't sewn together, but the center is! It's hard wanting to work on something that in the end causes pain. The grandgirls have been using my machines, which stirs within me the desire to don earplugs and headphones and create in a manner that defies belief, when one's belief is that sitting on the...

An uncomplicated pretty quilt top. Thanks Past Me for putting in the time cutting fabric, etc. Sewing and walking slowly, Metamucil, and being happy about it all, lol. Yes, this is how I felt today. Well, I was a little shouty on Bluesky, but that was the kind of thing that happens every once in a while because, well, I'm approaching the age where at times I don't give a fig. Where a notion pops into my head and it's like, "Oh yeah! And why haven't I thought of that previously?" Am I going to be a snarky old gal, hmmmm. Future Me is a wee bit...impatient at times, maybe not quite snarky, but certainly.... I just looked up the definition of snarky (critical, irritable, bad-tempered) and I'm not happy with any of those. Or maybe smirky is a better way to describe Future Me. Or some halfway point between the two. Not that I can see Future Me smirking, she's actually not around. But as though I am stepping into her shoes, I feel that smirk creeping over m...

From a couple days ago, snapped by my husband, seated inside the run with the chickens. I'm gazing at Nadia Chicken, off screen, while most of the rest gather near the fenced off pomegranate bush. I think chicken #8 was sunning herself along the back of the workshop that butts up to the run. Mis-sewing rows, diverticulitis, in general getting older, falling in love with sewing squares again, accepting life isn't in my control, the Serenity Prayer, ironing seams the wrong way, etc, etc, etc.... God, grant me the grace to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen. Whew! What a few days it's been, and in that I do include my lost weekend of sorts, spent suffering from an acute attack of diverticulitis. The recovery has been about as much of a 180 that the misery was, which at the end, or rather beginning of this day, is absolutely WONDERFUL. Needless to say, but I'll type it regardless, I am happy...

Where I left off yesterday with Straight to the Heart .... Pondered while languidly cutting fabrics for another quilt (while listening to the soundtrack for Life Stories: The Enran Chronicles Book Two , see here for that playlist ).... Well, yeah, slow revisions. Past Me is probably wondering what the hey I'm on about while Future Me nods in appreciation. Yup, slow revisions, uh-huh. SLOW REVISIONS. How slow? Well, I'd planned to publish Straight to the Heart: The Hawk Book Three ten days ago. If I can finish the revisions by the end of this week I'll be thrilled. Then there's a cover to fashion, blurbs to craft.... Plenty to do when releasing a novel but first the novel needs to have all the i's dotted and t's crossed. And while Past Me could do all that by the twinkle of her nose, Present Me just doesn't have it all that together. Such is aging, such is life. Makes me grateful I only answer to me, myself, and I when it comes to the writing, let me also s...

A sample from yesterday's work.... Reading through Book Three of The Hawk and being in the writing/revising zone.... Before I begin today's reading, I need to note how comforting it was yesterday to dive into a manuscript well known and steep myself not only in its realm, but the steadying manner of doing something related to writing. And how I didn't realize it would be so cathartic until dwelling there. There is a place I've enjoyed for nearly twenty years, the haunts of authorhood, of piecing prose, of writing. Revisions are a part of it, prepping manuscripts, crafting the first dang draft itself; all those elements are necessary if one chooses (or is chosen, lol) to follow the muse as far as it wishes to take us. Dragging us at times, yes, but only because writers are fearful of being shot down, of not being able to write, of bad reviews, of losing the plot, of whatever dark clouds that mar our vision. This of course can apply to artists spanning a wide range of ta...

From 20 June, 2005; our village in England. This was snapped at 8.11 p.m! The impending summer solstice, a sick spouse, and other musings.... I love the lead up to the longest day of the year. Daylight-wise, the solstice is a magical moment that hasn't been diminished despite my mum passing on that day several years ago. Hard to believe she's been gone that long, hard to imagine what she'd make of life today. Long days are still long even if the marine layer muscles in, attempting to lessen the brightness of the rising, then risen sun. Last week when the granddaughters were here, sunshine beckoned without any clouds. For three or four days I watched the sun rise so far north on the horizon, or how it appeared. Even with the fog, the light can't be hidden. This is my favourite season of the year! (It was even more astonishing when we lived in Britain, as we were further north than I am today, but that's a memory for another post....) My husband's cold continues, ...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

My last flag? Time will tell.... I dreamed last night I could squat. Not that I could do them, like an exercise, although subsequently in the dream I did do them repeatedly, but initially it was that I merely COULD do one. One squat turned into maybe ten? And I was so surprised/thrilled/curious. How in the world did my measly daily stretches allow for SQUATS? (And what exactly does this have to do with the step count?) [And the more pertinent question: Why am I pulling the plug, perhaps only temporarily, on my seemingly thorough dedication to raising as much joyful hell as possible?] I've been sleeping poorly, until last night. This past night I got nearly NINE HOURS of slumber, badly needed and gratefully received. Why did I rest so decently, other than eventually sleep wins? Maybe because last night I made the executive decision to unplug from Bluesky during Lent. Actually, I'm going to begin that Lenten fast a little early; I'll be done tomorrow after posting the last Bl...