In A Bookish, Quilty Mood

A mug rug in the making. Love those bright colours, courtesy of my youngest daughter. The train wreck that was my back is now the lingering downed power pole that is my left hip. I am grateful that the entirety of my lower back is amenable to movement, but disappointed at the hip. Can one be disappointed in a body part? I'm sure it's doing the best it can.... Ahem. Whatever is going on, I am underway to discovering the cause of the discomfort, so we'll see where that rabbit hole ends. If nothing else, I am getting over the cold that invariably came my way (of course that was inevitable), and TRULY GLAD my husband agreed that getting baby chicks could wait. Postponing that life alteration occurred after I sliced my finger cleaning the top of the metal feed trough; the underside of the metal made me shout, then bleed, then decide that no matter how eagerly we've waited, baby chicks would be better acquired when we were both healthy (hip not included). By the end of yester...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...