Anna Scott Graham's Blog, page 14

Last quilt of the year

Not to box myself into anything permanent, but.... What you see above is MOST LIKELY the last completed sewing project for 2024. Currently it's in the dryer, but since it hasn't rained today, I decided to hang it on the line, snapping one picture, then hustling myself and said quilt back in the house. It's chilly out today and I have a small cold and 'nuff said about being outside in those conditions.

I hesitate to write this, but perhaps (PERHAPS) this is the last quilt I'll display on the ancient laundry line. We're hoping for some home improvements in 2025, and if that occurs, the laundry line will be removed, oh my! Kind of funny to even consider that because the home improvement plan has been in the works for a couple of years without anything occurring. Because sometimes life is like that.

Anyways.... Who knows really? Maybe I'll get inspired and quickly machine-sew some kind of impetuous comforter. Maybe a Christmas quilt. Maybe something else entirely. Or maybe I'll wind down the stitching year that is fast coming to a close, it is the middle of November already, WHOA! Maybe I'll English paper-piece myself into a creative tizzy. Or I'll meander as I have been, a little of this, a tad bit of that, a tiny smidge of who-knows-what over there. And if that's the case, then yes, the quilt at the top of this entry is the last one for this calendar year, hung on a laundry line over one hundred years old.

That's a long time, you know. A long time for a house to be standing, a long time for any human being to exist in this corporeal plane. An AGE for a quilt to last (or a REALLY LONG TIME FOR A QUILT TO BE CONSTRUCTED). Oh, that's an idea, to start a quilt on such-and-such a date, then ask one's kids, grandkids, etc, etc, etc to JUST KEEP SEWING. Never finish this quilt until over a hundred years have passed.

Huh. Never thought about that before. Wild.

I'm feeling a little silly right now. (A little? Future Me smirks.) Not that I'm jacked up on NyQuil or any other cold medicine, although I did just enjoy Rocky Road ice cream with some vanilla to cut the chocolate. Not lactose-free either, but lately I've been okay with lactose, so.... So it's a Saturday, in the middle of November, and a quilt I put together on a whim, then with focus, is twirling in the dryer, la-la-la-la! Soon it will be done as though the weeks (but not as many as it takes to make a century) were mere seconds and I made that quilt by snapping my fingers. A quilt I hand-quilted in its entirety, la-la-la-HAH! A quilt that initially was going to be for myself until I realized that by adding an old crocheted blanket over my half of the bed obscured the quilt already there, so why make myself a new one when no one even sees the old one huh? Better to adjust my quilt parameters (and the design) and give it to someone I care about, right?

Right?

(Future Me is now standing with Past Me, both with their arms crossed over their chests, staring at me like I did just chug a bottle of something.)

Anyway.... I'm feeling feisty, or as full of myself as my cold allows. I'm feeling pretty darn great, the sniffles notwithstanding, because I'm done with the hand-quilting, the quilt, the Red Sky at Night blocks (for now). I'm done with sewing tasks I set for myself and it's not even the end of the month, la-la-la-la! It's only the middle of the month (of November, ahem) and I can freely dabble in whatever sewing project that tickles my fancy. Like Ice Cream Soda blocks, or the Alexandria medallion quilt. Or a Mandolin or Myrtle block, made with the same fabrics, la-la-la-la!

I could make a cuppa to go along with the sewing, although I don't need any more ice cream, la-la-la-ha!

I could ALSO wrap up this odd little (or NOT SO LITTLE) entry. Not that I could keep writing for the next hundred years because then I'd be 158 years old, and that's kinda implausible.

(Hmmmm. Maybe there was something in the Rocky Road????)

All I know (and I really mean ALL) is that a quilt I had been fretting over finishing in time is DONE. In the DRYER. TUMBLING and everything. LA-LA-LA! The RSAN blocks are D-O-N-E as well, ha-ha-hah! (Unless I do decide to stitch the large center block, but I'm not going to ponder that until like January or something.) My husband's birthday bash has come and gone and while there are other familial birthdays to prep for, at this small current moment of time, all I need to do (and need is a relative word) is find an end to this post, then retrieve the quilt from the dryer, as the chime just went off, telling me it's DONE.

DONE!

DONE.

Done, la-la-la-la! Just like this post; finito, cerrado, fin. Future Me and Past Me are walking away, shaking their heads, but I bet they'll be back, ha-ha-ha!

Every day is different

 

This week's Red Sky at Night block, Rolling Star. Green is becoming one of my fave colours.

I'm glad it's a new day. Yesterday was....tumultuous. Not because of what you might imagine, but due to rain, memories, and a sense of futility. A decent night's rest alters A LOT. Cups of less than half-caff tea ease the turmoil, and now at 6.13 a.m. I'm feeling able to grasp my life with more than a modicum of relief.

PTSD is a funny thing, in the you never know when it's going to strike column. In the how crippling are events from the past you never consider until they have brought you to your knees arena. In the why in the hell am I still bothered by this, that, and the other even though the crap happened over forty years ago element. Hmmm. Fascinating is the human mind, able to slot away shite from one's day-to-day, then BOOM, there is it in a downpour and merely by God's grace there go I into the maelstrom.

Suffice to say, being in a car in the middle of POURING RAIN and FLOODING STREETS is not my cup of tea. Unnerving. Discombobulating. Freakin' awful, but life contains these lesser moments and sometimes we have to ride them out. Better to ride them out than crumple into sobbing heaps, and I am grateful to be in the former category than the latter. And today is a new day. Yes it's still raining here in Humboldt County, but you bet your sweet bippy I'm not going out in it. And tomorrow the forecast is for dry skies. If I leave home tomorrow, and I probably will, everything will be OKAY.

I will note I accomplished a fair amount of sewing yesterday afternoon; hand-quilting and EPP stitching made me feel less bleh. Brought purpose to my dishevelment. Gave me a sense of accomplishment as I realized why I had freaked out in the car and afterwards. Turned the fear into "Hey, it's all right. You're not thirteen or fifteen anymore and the ghosts of the past can't hurt you." This has nothing to do with Past or Future Me. This concerns the affects of growing up with an alcoholic, abusive biological mother who cared little for her biological offspring. And forty-plus years later I'm still bearing the brunt of that woman's cruelty.

Yet, it's a new day. A different day. Still raining, but not pouring. Still those memories dwell within me, but they don't rule me. I'm still that little girl/teenager in some faraway place in my brain, but I'm also a wife, mum, and abuela; an author, quilter, occasional gardener, tea-drinker; music fan, sport-lover, Great British Bake-Off enthusiast. I am many things, and every once in a while I'm in need of a day when ALL OF THAT coalesces in a manner that requires a shut-down. I almost wrote shit-down, lol, which is also true. But only when the driving rain merges with actual driving, and now I'll be more cognizant to avoid those two items in my daily activities.

Because life is short and while trauma is sometimes unavoidable, best to sidestep it rather than plunge straight forward. Wishing you all a beautiful day.

Not sure yet

Slippers my grandsons left behind.

Not long after my most recent post, I accidentally hit the create new post button. I titled it Not sure yet because of course there would be another post, written at a more opportune moment. In the middle of a family bash, most of my focus was on relatives and party details, and I can happily say the festivities were phenomenal! We haven't thrown a wing-ding like that in ages, nor at our still new-ish residence, which for many guests was their first time visiting. My husband certainly felt the love, many hands made for light work, and I got to play heaps of card games with the grandkids and others who appreciate Crazy 8's and Go Fish.

By eight p.m. last night however I was TOAST. Partying hard in one's late fifties is...hilarious, in that I required a cup of caffeinated tea at lunch yesterday and still went to be before eight thirty. While I slept well, I've been awake for, um, a good while, and despite the mostly clear sky, admiring the dark night wasn't what I felt like doing. Much to ponder, and maybe easier to write about it than mull it over too deeply in the dark. Last week sitting in the living room in the middle-ish of the night felt okay. Now I'm more comfortable with the admittedly obnoxious glow of my computer monitor, seated in my warm office chair, slowly easing the transition not only back to my usual routine, but of a new world order the party seemed to make disappear. For which I am exceedingly grateful, allowing my brain a few days to not think about what my country has done.

I'm not sure yet of many things. How long it will take my husband and me to get used to not wondering if guests will enjoy themselves and will there be enough food (everyone had a FABULOUS time and of course there was plenty to eat). Will it rain and make trekking about a slog (the weather was PERFECT on Saturday and Sunday, then an inch of rain fell Sunday night but by then it didn't matter). How long will it take me to get back on a normal sleeping schedule (I suppose it doesn't truly matter since I don't have to worry about entertaining anyone, although I don't want to drink more caffeine than is necessary). Will living in California act like a protective bubble, turning me inward to avoid the deplorable incoming political administration? Huh, no parenthesis's after that, only a question mark that makes me tuck the neckline of my robe closed as if to ward off an unfathomable chill. VERY LITTLE was spoken about the election over the weekend, which was a relief, but now it's a week later. A week ago my nation went off the rails, well, three weeks or maybe four, depending on how early states opened voting. Okay, truthfully (in my opinion) America lost its way when some number of people decided white skin is the only real American marker and women are only good for having babies and 1950s backward values are the new twenty-first century guidelines and screw everyone else.

How to balance that with celebrating one's spouse turning sixty was quite the conundrum. Which I solved by conveniently forgetting the election as though it never happened.

Honestly, it was all I could do. If I dwell too long on what occurred.... I feel ashamed. Embarrassed. Defeated. Frustrated. Slightly curious, but I can't go there because pondering why so many of my fellow Americans are scared shiteless of a female person of colour as their leader is.... See above. Worse is wondering why they desire a racist misogynistic felon as their leader. I'm brought back to George Wallace's awful diatribe of "segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever" during his 1963 inaugural address as Alabama's governor. That is what the Republican Party wants, among other miserable policies: To divide citizens of this nation to maintain power as long as possible.

The bash for my husband was the exact opposite. The election wasn't mentioned not merely because everyone we welcomed shared our views, but because in polite company religion and politics aren't fit topics for discussion. That used to be the case, people respecting each other's views on what are at times deeply felt and occasionally cantankerous subjects. This blog is usually about writing fiction and sewing quilts. And soon those pastimes will again be the mainstay. But I need to say these things, especially after days of keeping my mouth shut, although honestly I really was too happy/busy/tired to concern myself with anything else. We didn't plan the party to coincide with election results, only the date of my husband's birth the deciding factor. And now with a modicum of that fog lifted, my head and heart inhale the extremely early repercussions of a choice thrust upon this nation by those willing to turn blind eyes to truth, justice, and the actual American way.

I'm still not sure what this means. And I won't know for months, once President-Elect Wallace has been put into office. Yet I am not frightened, as I remain shielded not by where I live or the colour of my skin. I am bolstered by the impenetrable grace of Love, the spirit of Truth, the fortification of Light that no one can dim. My faith in Christ staves off the utter desolation enacted on my country, despite the darkness wishing otherwise. In whatever manner I feel led to follow, I will spread Love, Truth, and Light, for as Dietrich Bonhoeffer said: It may be that the day of judgment will dawn tomorrow; in that case we shall gladly stop working for a better future. But not before.

I'm not sure how or what or where I will go, yet one day at a time.

Somewhat unbelievable

 

It's a quiet moment, all guest in the house asleep. The above shot was taken at 5.15 a.m. today, although it's not cold outside, fifty-one degrees Fahrenheit. Which is MARVELOUS for a clear night in nearly mid-November.

Amid party prep, we wondered what kind of weather would greet the festivities, and so far it's been SPECTACULAR, as have been the reunions and revelries. No rain in sight and so many embraces, peals of laughter, appreciative gestures and surprise gifts, two of which were for me, hehehe. My youngest sister brought a painting our mom had done of Dad, as well as a blanket I made for him. Those treasures joined a couple of pieces of furniture delivered, tables made from a redwood slab the previous owner of our home left for us four years ago. We've been living here for a little over forty-eight months, and now my husband is sixty, and in hosting a collection of our nearest and dearest, perhaps this house is now fully integrated into the familial....

I can't think of the correct word to describe what I mean; collection of family homes sounds dorky, but maybe that's all right. If nothing else, this property is now known to all we consider relations, and Humboldt County can be added to their repertoires as a place to visit and call home. Celebrating my husband's milestone matters, but equally vital is sharing our little corner of the world with those we love.

Currently I'm seated on the sofa where often I stitch. The crocheted throw I made Dad is over my lap, and in writing this, I've pulled myself momentarily from the list of To Do's and meal planning to reflect mid-festival, or maybe to ground myself so when I rejoin the merriment once people stir from slumber, I am more cognizant? I don't know, but I felt like writing a little something this morning, staying in touch with this part of who I am. I'm a wife, mum, abuela, sister, friend.... I'm the eldest daughter in a family altered due to parents' passings and time's inevitable march constantly reshaping the realm and arc of what we consider our lives. Our lives are like the specks of white against the blue-black sky, twinkling for moments, then forgotten as the sun rises. Not that a clear sky this early in the day indicates sunny weather for later, only that it probably won't rain today, allowing the grandkids plentiful trampoline opportunities in addition to my husband leading guests on trails. A week ago rain threatened the entire weekend, but weather patterns change as do who we claim as relatives. A family reunion allows for more than the chance to visit. New parameters are established, guiding all of us into how the rest of our lives will be fashioned.

Some of these realms are only for this weekend, in that my grandkids might not recall the names of my youngest sister's teenage daughters, lol. A big difference between those two groups, but who knows, perhaps in decades to come, they will become more acquainted as age differences are erased by time's wily passage. That immutable element of human existence cannot be overemphasized, in that when I was my grandkids' ages I had no idea my family would be comprised of those with whom I ate, laughed, and reminisced yesterday. If I tried to tell the grandchildren that, they might smile, or stare at me questioningly. But there's a HUGE difference between being nine years old and two times twenty-nine. The arc of one's life is an unpredictable rainbow.

I doubt we'll see any of those today, no rain on the horizon until middle of the night tomorrow. It's actually supposed to be warmer today than yesterday, maybe we'll get to the beach after lunch. I'm happy for whatever activities occur, looking forward to another day of amazing conversations, heaps of laughter, card and board games with the littles and anyone interested in joining us. Today's crowd will be smaller, allowing a different flavor of gathering. I might get out my largest teapot this evening, brewing up cuppas of decaf. I think basketball will be on the docket, although my husband's beloved Green Bay Packers have their bye-week, so he won't have to fret about them. And at now 6.02 a.m., I hear someone overhead, about time to put this post onto the World Wide Web, just a slender silken thread spun from my gray matter, slipping into a greater realm, marking one more day of my journey on this planet we all call home.

The thin places

 

The hourly forecast for Saturday; indicative of my mood are the clouds, but if no rain falls, I'll be SO GRATEFUL (also indicative of my hope for the future).

Recently a dear friend sent an email about being patient, trusting, and celebrating exactly where I am right now. I was grateful for her grace, that peace, and the accompanying anecdote about happy pigeons proffering a glimpse between where I currently stand and a world just beyond the veil.

Where I am right now feels like thin ice, although Future Me is holding my hand, reminding that she just told me things were gonna suck. She squeezes my fingers as if to confirm that notion, the pressure not harsh but healing. She and I have been in some VERY DEEP VALLEYS, Past Me too, and yet here I am (or we are), breathing without difficulty on this bright, Thursday Humboldt County morning.

Family arrived on Tuesday, my sister-in-law and her partner. The birthday celebrations begin tomorrow, so today will entail grocery shopping and end of the list cleaning. Some guests will join us for supper Friday night, the bulk of the crowd sharing Saturday with us. Sunday will be mostly family, and by Monday all will have departed. An event months in the planning will be a welcome respite from a cloud I can't dismiss, but I can grab an umbrella, braving the next few years with appropriate gear and a smile on my face. Because while the results weren't to my liking, God willing the ensuing administration won't cause irreparable harm, or enact policies that endanger democracy to a tipping point.

Call me paranoid if you like, I won't be offended. I cannot fully express the deep sense of failure in my fellow Americans not only by Kamala Harris's defeat, but the inability of this nation to move past gender and race in choosing a president.

However, not all is lost. I cling to that sense as I double-check party planning lists, the line between this world and whatever comes next as slender as lawn fabric or crinkly leaves I'll rake later today. Yesterday and Tuesday and the last several weeks are gone, those hours cannot be recovered. But today is new, tomorrow unknown, and for now that's enough. This weekend will be heaped with beloveds, how amazing is that? The memories made will sustain me for, well, the rest of my cognizant life, which is a fine bulwark. And in the shadow of my corporeal existence on this planet, I won't dwell on the negative, but embrace whatever positive changes my prayers, actions, books, and quilts provide. Those are all elements within my control, and I'll do my utmost to move forward with grace and peace and anecdotes about whatever tickles my fancy.

Wishing you that same calm today!

Not scientifically confirmed but....

I am finding that by skipping around chapters, meaningful revisions are taking place. I've done this in the past, though not recently enough to recall for which novel. Yet, it's working, and God willing I remember to do it again for The Hawk Book 1.

God willing is a phrase I've employed A LOT lately, not merely in conjunction with the electoral process here in America. God willing permeates to as many facets of my life as I recall to hitch it onto, because God willing is how I roll. God willing I will remember to edit books out of order from now on, but no promises, although Future Me winks, smiles, then goes back to her sewing.

(Meanwhile Past Me glances up from her spot at the computer, peers around anxiously, then returns to writing. I think she's nearing an important plot point in The Hawk, but honestly, she could be penning a Christmas letter for all I know.)

Currently I'm in a quiet moment of what will be a busy day; prepping the house for visitors who might arrive later this afternoon, cleaning for this weekend's party, laundry.... There's always laundry it seems, but that's all right because I like doing laundry. Or I enjoy the washer and dryer managing the heavy lifting. I stitched what is the last of three Eden Stars last night, pictured at the top of this post. Okay, let me clarify that statement; I sewed what was a prepared batch of stars, another twenty to arrange, but I've been stitching them in groups of three, and these turned out nicely. The office has been, ahem, rearranged as my eldest granddaughter will sleep here, so I had to remove all the STUFF that clutters the narrow edge of a twin mattress that otherwise acts as counter space, LOL. Much of that stuff now sits on the work table, a couple totes shoved under said table, those locations temporary. Does that count as cleaning or clearing? Not gonna get picky about it; it's DONE and that's what matters.

The last few weeks have been FILLED with things that MATTER. Like voting, you know. And being mindful that not everyone shares my views. But making those views known regardless. Because, God willing, my nation will elect a female president. Yup, that's my preference. Most likely we won't know for...a day, two, three??? God willing it won't take longer than that, but it might, and this weekend's celebratory bash will 1) act as a distraction 2) hopefully not be tinged with undue sadness 3) be a joyful appreciation either way to honor my husband turning sixty. When we moved to the UK in 1996, we actually flew there on my birthday, my THIRTIETH birthday. And yes it was in part that I'd be too busy making sure all went well to ponder turning thirty. And other than our then four-year-old son wailing upon our descent into Manchester due to not being able to pop his ears, our arrival in Great Britain was quite marvelous. I'm hoping the rest of this week is much the same.

That despite some hand-wringing and of course LOUD SHOUTS from the other party, America will elect Kamala Harris as president. God willing that will be the outcome. Future Me is staunchly keeping mum about the results, while Past Me continues typing, blissfully unaware of the current circumstances. I had no idea in 2013, when I started writing The Hawk, of what was on the political horizon, good and bad. All I knew then was my dad's probable start of chemotherapy to fight cancer. That's what I recall most from this time eleven years ago. Eleven years, where has that decade plus a year gone? It feels so close, like I could glance behind me and embrace my parents again, seeking their guidance, but time marches on, the four grandkids the most prominent proof. Books and quilts too, yet loved ones are more meaningful. After today I won't be posting as often as usual until sometime next week. And yes, if the political news is unsettling, I truly won't have much to say. God willing that won't be the case. God willing in a day or so I'll write something in a giddy rush, maybe posting a shot of Kamala Harris from four years ago alongside another of her from now-ish, beaming from ear to ear, God willing.

Not scientifically confirmed, but certainly how I roll....

Non-linear creativity

Cards made yesterday morning while avoiding cleaning my house, lol.

How editing out of order helps as well as hand quilting the perimeter is occasionally necessary. But when creative time is squeezed, better to adapt than not create at all.

Well okay! I thought this up about half an hour ago after spending the early (but not stupid early) morning reading through The Enran Chronicles Book 3. Not like delving into it from Chapter One, more like opening the document, peering at the first paragraph, then smirking at myself because right now there are not enough straight uninterrupted days to begin a proper read-through of the novel. Yet on one particular morning, like today, I could peruse a few chunks, which I did indeed do as I scrolled more than halfway through the story, plopping myself into a scene, then within a few minutes finding a typo! What? Well, okay.... Good thing I landed on that page, with enough wherewithal to notice said typo, then correct said typo. I completed that chapter, making a few tweaks, then scrolled further down, and found another freakin' mistake, DUDE! I smiled at myself, then was grateful for this inadvertent, non-linear manner of editing, reminding myself to do this to The Hawk Book One in a couple weeks when all the party hoo-haa has subsided.

Because, as I noted at the top of this post: Better to adapt than not create at all.

Two days ago I did nothing but, well, not clean my house, but we ran errands and attended to this and that task and by the end of the evening, Halloween I believe, I was making copious notes in the spreadsheet about what time to shop, when to make soup, when others will collect pies and pulled pork and when to start planning for the next meal. The party will be MARVELOUS, but it takes a fair amount of planning for MARVELOUS to go off without too many glitches. On Halloween, I didn't edit anything, other than the spreadsheet. I didn't stitch anything either, other than tacking items onto lists. It felt REALLY WEIRD to have excised any viable creative effort from my day, which made me realize how just about every day I edit something (other than a To Do list) and/or sew something. Now, how blessed that is is, well, pretty dang blessed! This party is a blessing too, don't misconstrue, but I'm not as young as I used to be and I'm set in my ways and, and, and.... It's better to adapt the creative routine than not participate in said creative routine, ahem.

My current sewing project is hand-quilting, and I'm first doing the perimeter of the quilt so I can add the binding, then stitch the middle of the comforter at my leisure. Usually when hand-quilting, I work outwards from the center, because the edge is easier and I like saving that for last. Better to initially tackle the trickier aspects, although I'm not cleaning the house bathroom until next week, HAH! Yet when possible, I attempt to deal with the more cumbersome details of life, although in regards to this quilt... I'm finding this manner of hand-quilting quite enjoyable, same as I found this morning's editing, typos aside. Part of that thrill is merely being back in the creative groove, albeit slightly altered. The other nice notion is reminding myself that editing out of order not only mixes up how I view/read/absorb a manuscript, but enhances the revision if only viewing/reading/absorbing it through a different perspective. I can't swap day for night or suddenly find myself on the other side of winter (I'm not really a winter-person, although it makes for lots of time indoors and I do like myself a nice indoor craft), but I can read Chapter Fifteen first, then Chapter Twenty, then Chapter Three, and so on and so forth. How many typos will be located and tweaks administered is for Future Me to handle. Right now, the present has enough going on.

Yet, I will say, or hopefully conclude this entry (because it's breakfast time and my stomach is growling) that by embracing non-linear manners of creativity, I'm keeping myself open to other changes, or I'm finding ways to meet the challenges life provides. Better than being a stick in the mud, lol. And infinitely better than not creating at all. And now it's time for the morning meal!

I don't need to micromanage everything

 

Humboldt morning sky.

My husband's sixtieth birthday is approaching and we're hosting a party. Our eldest daughter has organized much of it over the last several months, as it was unknown to my hubby until the end of last month. He was GOBSMACKED, in a very nice way, and now it's days from happening.

Time really moves at its own fickle pace, in that when this party first came into being, spring was flirting with our part of the state, but in full swing in the SF Bay Area, where our daughter lives. Today I wore a turtleneck, the first of this autumn season. We ran a lot of errands, some party-related, some not. I finished reading through The Hawk Book 2 yesterday, and no editing occurred today, nor any sewing. I just spent the last hour adding To Do's from the party spreadsheet onto my phone in the form of reminders, including that of Fill in white board with day's tasks. The white board dwells in the mud room, we probably need markers for it as it came with the house and we never use it, and we've had this house for four years, so....

So it will come in very handy next week, plenty to be done and plenty of folks to assist. I've made scrupulous notes, but that's my way, better to be prepared than not. I like lists, reminders. I like knowing what to do and when to do it. I can be spontaneous, yet not when two dozen people are coming and everyone needs to be fed.

I'm tired; I woke at two a.m. with party thoughts teeming in my brain! I'm hoping to sleep better tonight, also hoping to finish this post before I nod off, lol. I remember the first time the day after a large gathering that I felt exhausted; I was thirty-two and woke the next day weary. Alcohol wasn't a factor, just having been on my feet all day meanwhile keeping an eye on the kids, who at the time were ten, eight, and six years old. Is that possible, because my grandkids are nine, six and a half, and five and a half. It's certainly the truth, but my daughters, in their mid and early thirties, have no idea how their energy levels won't always be like they are now.

That doesn't have anything to do with micromanaging, just in realizing that humans age, change, still throw parties but require as many reminders as we can give ourselves, HAH! Reminders on devices, on white boards, on spreadsheets.... That's fine, I have no shame. Better living through technology is one of my mottos, or chemistry, whichever is applicable. Yet micromanaging is wearying, in that exactly how many reminders do I need? All I can get, with the sense that I'm, I'm, I'm....

REALLY tired. Like I can barely keep my eyes open. It's 8.33 p.m., and I don't know what the sense is, was, will be???? It's bedtime on this Saturday night, please forgive any glaring typos.

A week from now

 

Trees on our property that won't bow to the wishes of the stars. Photo by my husband.

The Big Dipper and the rest of the stars near it will have moved further westward in the sky. That was the first thing I considered when I peered out the living room window this morning, noting how far westward that constellation has veered. Just a couple of months ago, it was much further eastward, yet I can still see it, twinkling over the treeline as though it told the Redwoods to get out of the way.

Deep breath taken; that's not the only thing to consider, but maybe it's better to start this post with musings about natural phenomena than, well.... Politics isn't even the way to describe the state of America's electoral process. And honestly, I won't delve deeply into what might occur, in that actually in a week all that will definitely happen is advertising won't feature this or that candidate or proposition. In one week, that will have ended.

What comes next is.... Nothing I can fathom at this juncture, so you might ask, "Well then, why bring this up?" Because first I saw those stars, having moved from where I used to see them at unsightly hours of the morning (5 a.m. today, not a bad night's sleep for me). Then I thought about the election. Yet the stars not only emerged first in my mind but have been shining for THOUSANDS of years, ahem. Those stars will outlive, or outshine, every single person breathing on this planet today, 'nuff said. And despite all the cruelties, horrors, outrages, and nefarious schemes that have come and gone in the last millennia, those very stars will continue to twinkle with beautiful grace and awesome power, reminding us frail humans that our world, galaxy even, isn't only about us.

Okay, well, yeah. So true! Does that mean the American election of 2024 doesn't matter? Hell no! But what it means can be qualified in regards to the Big Dipper as, well, not small potatoes, but it puts into perspective what it does mean. That if what I consider the worst possible outcomes occurs, this world isn't going to fall into ruin. I don't want to dismiss the ENORMOUS CONSEQUENCES that I believe will befall the USA if Republicans take the White House. I shudder to think how the rights of women, BIPOC, and LGBTQ Americans will be trampled. I tremble to ponder how fragile the liberty of all Americans to choose their own leader will be compromised. I don't want to sound like an alarmist or paranoid, but to say I don't trust the Republican Party to maintain free and fair elections is an honest statement. And to have to note that feels.... Weird. Icky in a no, I am not a conspiratorially minded person but I don't trust Republicans as far as I could throw any one of them. Which is a damn sad state of affairs, but what my country has become due to the nefarious nature of current Republican party leadership.

I don't mean this post to wander off to the election rabble hinterlands, but in a week, the election will be occurring, although it's already in process what with early voting, which my husband and I participated in last week, hurray! And while I can't believe it's already the thirtieth of October, another manner of time's passage has DRAGGED ENDLESSLY, that of the American electoral process. And it's not going to magically end a week from tomorrow. Regardless of who emerges with the most immediate votes counted, it may last for days, weeks, oh I really don't hope months, but four years ago was a lesson in patience, in hope. In trusting in the system, which despite attempts to thwart it, went ahead as it had for decades, a century or two, in the past. We elected a brand new president in 2020, and hopefully we'll do the same in 2024. 

A woman. A person of color. Kamala Harris, with Tim Walz as her V.P. God willing that is the pair American voters choose to lead this nation. And if another pair is the victor.... Again, God willing, we'll somehow get through it. The Big Dipper hasn't fallen from the sky, and while it doesn't really move Redwood trees to shine its brightest, it maintains its place among the constellations year after year. And I pray that whatever happens in a week, plus those necessary amount of ensuing days, my nation will remain calm, strong, and aware that.... A deep breath is taken, then I simply lift my intercessions aloft, aware a greater good awaits no matter the results of this election, or any other on Earth. I need to keep the faith and remain stalwart in the face of whatever happens.

And now, it's time for lunch.

Being faithful

 

Such a colourful, pretty quilt!

The last few days have been full of sewing; I completed a quilt top, made a backing, then fixed a quilt sandwich, basting it this evening. Now I'm plopped on the sofa while the Golden State Warriors and Los Angeles Clippers clamor in the background. I might not even get to any hand-quilting tonight, but that's okay. It's enough that the quilt is lounging quietly beside me.

I also finished the most complicated (so far) block of the Red Sky at Night EPP. Idle Moments was anything but, yet I took my time, basting, then stitching, a quarter of it each evening, completing it last night, WHEW! Today I cut fabric for the last of the small blocks, bagging it all up with the coordinating papers, then bringing it to where I sew at night. Hand-quilting will share time with hand-sewing over the next few weeks, as I'm hoping to complete the quilt before Thanksgiving.

I read there are sixty pieces in this particular pattern. Dude, that's a LOT of little pieces!

With all this creativity coursing through my veins, I'm grateful tonight to only be writing this post; my feet are achy, I'm tired. I've been pushing the crafty envelope the last few days, but kind of in an auto-pilot manner, not thinking, "Oh my goodness, how am I gonna get all this done?" Or "I don't have time for this now...." Basically I've been listening to my heart, putting one foot in front of the other, not worrying about how it's all going to fall into place. Keeping the faith, you might say, followed by a hearty yawn. I feel like I am gonna sleep REALLY WELL tonight.

Part of the joy of just doing what I feel led to do is knowing, and I mean TRULY BELIEVING, everything is going to be fine. Great. MARVELOUS! Maybe not easy, but.... Certainly doable, then I can veg on the couch at the end of the day. I ate dinner after basting the quilt, but I still needed to put the office back together. And make my bed (where I laid out the backing fabric and actually made the quilt sandwich). And write some emails. Then I wanted to fashion a post because, well, I felt called to write a post, lol. I slap a LOL at the end of that previous sentence, but in all seriousness, keeping the faith, or rather acting on faith, is deeply important to me, a meaningful experience that shapes my world, my beliefs, my core. Again it comes back to not overthinking things, but simply accepting no matter what is asked of me, I'll be able to accomplish it.

Yesterday it was WARM here, as a front headed west, colliding with toasty southern air; we received an inch of rain overnight into this morning, then the sun emerged, but unlike yesterday when I spent a lot of time outside prepping for the rain, today I stayed inside, enjoying the good weather by osmosis. I stretched my back and hips as the sun shone into the room, onto the bed, but not into my eyes because by four p.m., the sun was so low in the sky, I didn't have to squint or close my eyes while lying on my side doing clam shells. It certainly helped that it was already after four by the time I got to that exercise, haha, but I needed to do those stretches, and that was before getting the quilt sandwich onto the basting table.

And now it's coming on seven p.m., halftime for the Warriors and Clippers, LA leading by five points. I'm about done here, not much more to note. I'm keeping the faith, maintaining a hopeful heart, not fretting overtly that which is out of my control, or even within my grasp. Maybe the Warriors will lose, maybe I won't get the quilt completed before Thanksgiving. Yet I'll do my best about the sewing, and leave basketball to the professionals. And I am SO READY for bedtime. Another hour or so and I'm calling this day DONE!