Swapping out sheets and other autumnal alterations

 

This sticker graces the back of my phone case. I LOVE the colour blue, indicative of my political leanings too.

This morning I put flannel sheets on the bed. A few weeks back, maybe even last week, I wore capri pants. However it is now the twenty-fourth of October and I'm already wearing warm PJs to bed, so.... It was inevitable, merely in that seasons alter, wardrobes as well, and finally linens. I've also added an extra blanket on my side of the mattress, obscuring the quilt completely. Which gives me pause about keeping that fabric WIP for myself, in that the crocheted throw extends well over the end of the bed, one of the reasons I was making a new quilt for myself in the first place.

I have a person in mind for that quilt, lol, which hasn't garnered much of my attention recently, too many afternoon errands on the agenda. But I will get to it, maybe today, maybe. Fall housekeeping also calls my name, sigh, and while I'd love to turn a deaf ear to that task, an inner siren blares. Yeah, yeah, I smirk. I'll get to that soon.

Kaffe Fasset and Rashida Coleman-Hale fabrics combine for this Eden block.

But in the meantime, hehehe.... There's this post to craft and another inner signal, that of having read through The Hawk Book One one more time, liking what I've crafted, both for when I wrote it as well as how I have honed it to where it now sits, almost ready for publication. Definitely a product of Past, Future, and Present Me wrapped in a sense of, um.... Destiny is kind far-fetched, but applicable, in that over ten years ago I was struggling to move forward with it, struggling to decide if I should publish what I had written, struggling with my dad's lack of further cancer treatment. I was also buffered by the knowledge two grandchildren were on the way, both of whom are now in freaking FOURTH GRADE, yikes! But ten years ago they were in utero, while The Hawk was kind of like that too.

Oh, did I mention I've voted??? Yup, cast that ballot for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz, WOO HOO! I hope if you are eligible to vote in America's upcoming election, you will exercise that priceless right, and choose Harris/Walz for President and V.P.

More Kaffe Fassett fabric for the petals here.

What else, what else.... I feel like a lot is going on, so much that sewing a quilt together has been pushed off the list of To Do's, although I have been working on the latest Red Sky at Night block. Idle Moments is a total misnomer; this block is about more than my poor brain can handle, but left and right and symmetry have never been my strong suits, so I'm taking it slowly, then rewarding myself with easy but enjoyable Eden blocks. I should count them to ascertain how many remain to assemble. Then do the right thing and baste pieces according to if they are on the top or bottom of the quilt!

It's a Thursday, but feels like a Friday, feels like I'm wrapping up some enormous project, which isn't the case at all. Life currently feels like.... It's like when Dad was done with chemo, but the numbers weren't staying steady and he was investigating other options, not finding anything worth trying. Meanwhile another generation was percolating right along, reminding that life isn't static. That bad things are often buffered by terrific notions. That books might seem beyond what I could wrangle, but quilt-making was a breeze. Like my late forties would go on forever, HAH! Because now my late fifties are racing for the finish line at a pace that feels to wrench my hips totally out of alignment. What gives, I ask Future Me, fully aware she's not gonna say shite.

Some wild and beautiful Anna Maria fabric edges this block; so glad I gave up on the solid gray that had originally been slated as the perimeters.

Yet, she peers at me with a furtive grin. Then clears her throat. Then speaks: Ten years ago you knew things weren't gonna stay the same.

Yeah, I knew that, I sigh.

She nods, then steps close, patting my shoulder. Losing Dad sucked, she sniffles, but little Dr. Benzo was, and still is, amazing.

I smile, Dr. Benzo one of my eldest grandchild's many nicknames when he was a wee lad. Yeah, I warble, clearing my throat.

And Bab-a-rella is quite the gal, Future Me says, wiping something from her eyes.

Yes she is. They all are, I add, thinking about the younger grandkids.

They are. Where have the last ten years gone?

Indeed, I agree. Then I stare at Future Me, still wiping her damp face. I could ponder the upheaval of American politics during the past decade, Covid too, but all that drama is hedged by the words written and comforters made, as well as the love shared while my family altered beyond what I could have conjured at the time. I then glance to Past Me, writing The Hawk, wholly unaware of the sorrows and immense joys awaiting her.

It's gonna be okay, Future Me says, again clearing her throat. Some parts are still gonna, well, suck. She smirks, then continues. But much of it's gonna blow your mind.

Yeah? What's gonna....

She grunts, then stalks off, shaking her head. I breathe deeply, then glance at her, finding she's turned my way, a small smile on her face. Be patient, she whispers. And keep the faith.

I nod, because truthfully, what else is there for me to do....