Grandmother has returned to the mountains and Grandfather. We're sad, but we had a wonderful time. She promises to return with the handy man, soon. The mower-deck, the weed whacker and the chainsaw are all broken. Things like that happen in three's, according to hillbilly lore. I don't mind the weeds too much, but a mown lawn would be nice.
Grandmother gave the girls a couple of her nightgowns. They are snugglely soft! The girls are as brown as nuts from all the sunshine they've been enjoying.
News Report... I actually sat down and sewed some, today!! Shocker. I just haven't been inspired and the past few weeks have been doily central. And that's OK. But then, the other night, I had this dream about 60* triangles and the valley of the shadow of death... no, it wasn't a creepy dream, just matter of fact. So I cut out tiny triangles and have 9 out of 12 rows, sewn. They are pretty small. And it didn't turn out like I dreamed. Not a shocker there. The execution of something is often a far cry from the inspiration. But it's fun, just the same.