Wednesday's Whine of the Week...

hmmm... what shall it be, what shall it be...

Bumpeldy entries. The first 15' into the more popular of supermarkets have bumpeldy floors. They're very rough and extremely textured to help prevent someone from slipping and falling when they are wet. Rain, snow, ice=wet. Thus the bumpeldy floors. I have noticed that the other area stores have somehow managed to survive without this added safety measure. They provide mats that have deep grooves and crevices to catch any runoff water. And their interior floors lack some of the highly polished and deadly slick concrete in ... OK, I'll just say it! Walmart. Yes, Walmart has bumpeldy floors in their entry ways and slick as snot floors in their interiors. Yes, they do.

So what's my whine about the bumpeldy entry ways? I'm all on board when it comes to safety. This is what I'm getting to. Almost every time I get a cart, it rumbles across the bumpeldy floor. You have to get into the main part of the store- past that greeter- and then you figure out- Hey! I got a bum cart! It lists. It pulls. It makes an unearthly racket- all without the assistance of the bumpeldy floor. See? All of this was impossible to discern when you're on the bumpeldies. I don't know about you, but I'd just as soon not make the rounds through Walmart with a troublesome cart- way too many square miles to be covered- 'cause ya know it would be just too simple to put things together that actually made some kind of sense- oops- trespassed into another whine. So very easy to do.

Where was I? Yeah, the bum cart. After discovering it's defects, there's the u-turn past the greeter to choose another cart. Taking the gamble that the second cart is better than the first- no way of knowing until the same process has been undertaken, yet again. So past the greeter-again-(maybe I'm secretly whining about that greeter- whom I find ironic in a store where one can never find help, but where they are setting out this token greeter to make you feel like they actually care. When all they're really there for is to deter miscreants from shoplifting. Man, I'm in a mood, huh?) And now you can finally exhale 'cause this cart is doable. After smiling and nodding at that greeter three separate times- and you're gonna have to do it again on your way out. Whine accomplished- with a few bonuses thrown in. More bang for your buck- rather like that store.

My Mundane Monday...

I've had a great few days. Lots of fun going on.

Howda ya like my poppy? It's orange and it's a poppy, so of course I'm lovin' it. When I showed the kids the pattern and the fabrics I was gonna use, it was the common consensus that I make it in purple. I gaped, aghast, wondering just whose spawn they were? I vetoed the children from Mars and went with the orange. It is a poppy, after all.

The poppy quilt measures at just under 50." My Aunt Isobel gave me the nifty 9* wedge ruler and accompanying book a few years back. The picture on the front of the book didn't appeal to me- it was a pastel butterfly and I'm physically incapable of working with pastels. Must have had a traumatic experience as a child. And, I admit, I was a bit intimidated by its roundness. A common phobia among quilter. Guess what? Not a single curve to sew or cut. 100% straight lines. If I had only investigated sooner I might have had this much fun quite a while ago! That'll teach me.


The directions in the book- oh, I guess it would be nice if I shared the title with ya, huh? Quilts Without Corners by Cheryl Phillips. Anyway, the directions were some of the best I've ever seen or used. Really excellent. Lots of helpful hints to ensure success. I followed them faithfully and that quilt lays as flat- if not flatter- than any other quilt I've made. Way cool. One of her tips was to use loops of wipe clear packing tape on the back of the ruler- keeps things from shifting- even better than those little rubber strippy things. I only had to change the tape out once for the whole project, so it's cheap, too. Took me 5 hours to cut, piece and sew. There are several other designs in the book that I'm looking forward to trying.


Sandy and I took an impromptu trip to Rushville Indiana, yesterday. After seeing my poppy, she wanted a wedge ruler,too. Enjoyed the drive on one of the few sunny days we have had lately. And the quilt shop, In Stitches, is always a treat. They have a longarmer who works out of the shop and we had a very pleasant visit. Nice to share war stories and ideas with a fellow quilter. She had the coolest set-up for storing her quilts. Her husband had built her this super strong hanging frame. oak. All of her quilts are folded over sturdy hangers- including the backing and the batting (as long as it was cotton. The larger batts are stored under the hangers.) The names and phone numbers of the clients are on little tags attached to each hanger. That's a great idea even for our own quilts because they're easy to see and keeps them in our minds so much better than tucking them away in a Rubbermaid tub and forgetting about them. Can't tell you how often I find a quilt that I'd completely forgotten about. Plus, I think it would also be a bit more motivating to get 'em done if they're staring me in the face. Sometimes I need a little intimidation.


This is a block from the quilt she was working on. It's made from the shirts of her client's father. I've seen and quilted several of these, but I loved how she pieced it and then set them together. The blocks really show off the fabrics effectively and they don't get lost in the busyness involved in most shirt quilts. Her sashing and cornerstones were consistent throughout the quilt, but the stars all had different shirt fabrics and different complimentary colors. Loved it. Of course, the quilting is brilliant, too. She was saying how she had to go home early, the day before, because she had hit a creative wall. So nice to hear that happens to other quilters. Sometimes it just takes some distance to come up with the right design for a quilt. It doesn't always just pop out at you. I'd say her quilting is inspired, though. She does great work.

I'm sure there's something else I should be doing... I'll skedaddle now and see if I can figure out just what that might be. Or, better yet, maybe I'll stay happily oblivious...Have a great day!

One of the last summer days...

I love to watch my kids contented and enjoying the sunshine. So sweet.

Bizarre thing happened, yesterday. Actually, it all occurred exactly as the laws of nature dictate. The funny thing about it- it involves my hair- you guys are gonna think I'm obsessed. But that's just how it happened. Maybe I should include a hair feature in each week...nah.

I was coloring my hair- for those of you unfamiliar with the process, I color my roots- wait 15 minutes and then the remainder of my hair and wait another 10 minutes. I had just finished my roots and I had 15 minutes to kill. It was at this point that I remembered that the shower stall needed cleaning. (It has a door on it, so I never think to clean it until I am getting in and then there just isn't any time for that.) Perfect opportunity to get the chore done. I spray the walls and floor with cleaner. The cleaner I have to use is very potent-and perfectly legal- as we have hard water. Nothing else, short of a jack hammer, will remove those stains and white chalk-like residue. I usually let it set for a few minutes, so I went ahead and colored the rest of my hair, figuring I'd wipe down the shower during my last 10 minute waiting period. Bear with me, I'm getting to it.

I turn around and I'm confronted with a cloud of smoke of near Biblical proportions. Hydrochloric acid(the cleaner) gives off fumes, but nothing like this... Ah, now I see. Ammonia Hydroxide(the hair color) also gives off fumes. Apparently when they meet up they do a little boogie. Should have paid more attention in those college chemistry classes. Dr. Winton is shaking his head sadly- but with a smile on his face 'cause I finally caught on. I quickly opened the window and set up a fan and the cloud cleared out pretty fast. I'm not sure of the chemical properties of this concoction- other than toxic- but I've a sneaky suspicion it was explosive as well. Good thing I didn't have a candle burning. It was a singularly bizarre occurrence. Whodda thunk?

When the guys got home from work- just a few minutes later- they were so offended by the smell, I'm pretty sure that any wife they may have in the future will be strongly advised about the dangers of coloring their hair. I somehow doubt they will be as adamant about the dangers of cleaning the tub.

Wednesday's Whine of the Week...

Climate control. We sure are a spoiled nation. In the winter, it would be a fate worse than death to actually get cold. And in summer, it would be a crying shame to actually get hot. Living in an old farm house, I'm a little more in touch with weather reality. But that puts me in a tough spot when it comes to those who have control over theirs. I have to wear t-shirts in the winter and sweaters in the summer because of what I consider excessive use of air conditioning and heating. I'm trying to be reasonable here. I really am. And I won't be whining about the waste of energy and environmental issues. But some of these cases are absolutely beyond ridiculous.

Air conditioning. Its the quintessential Monk situation. "It's a blessing... and a curse." Love how air conditioning takes the humidity out of a room. Keeps things from being all sticky. Love how it enables us to do strenuous work without popping out in a sweat. (I've heard it said that men sweat and women glow. What a bunch of hooey. Most of us sweat when the air is heavy with moisture and the temps are high. Good old-fashion sweat.) And air conditioning off-sets the heat from the oven or clothes dryer so that the weather doesn't interfere with our daily lives. Gotta love that. Truly a boon to civilization. That's the "blessing" side of the equation.

The "curse." Overzealous air conditioning. Have you ever gone into a restaurant or store and felt that familiar chill run up and down your spine? I won't be doing much exercise in these situations and doubt a lot of other people will be doing so either. Brrrr... I don't go anywhere without my jacket. Can't tell you how many I've misplaced and lost. And even though I hate being overly warm, I hate being overly cold almost as much. I'm not talking about being slightly chilled. I'm talkin' about the kind of cold that puts you at risk of suffering from frostbite. Something truly arctic.

This seems to be more prevalent in Northern climates. I guess if you live in the South you have a higher tolerance for heat and it takes less air conditioning to make them comfortable. Whereas Northers have a phobia about being too warm. Oh the humanity! Studies have shown that the average person is comfortable at about 72*. Of course there aren't too many "average" people out there, so some are going to be too cool and some are going to be too warm. I get that. A little warm or a little cool. Seems all very reasonable to me. You can't please everyone. But you set that thermostat at 68*... You're pleasing a very small segment of the population and I don't happen to be in it. What a bummer. So it's my personal whine. I'm too cold at many restaurants, movie theaters, and stores to be able to relax and enjoy myself. No, I am not one of those cold-natured people who always have icy cold hands. Honest, I'm not. To be fair, in restaurants, I only add to the problem by drinking iced tea. Love the stuff. Drink about a gallon a day. I guess if I worked really hard I could learn to like coffee. I could see where the excessive amount of air conditioning might be off-set by drinking scalding coffee. I just don't want to. So there. I'll continue to sit in a jacket, shoulders hunched, hands clutched between my knees trying to conserve body heat.



I felt kinda guilty about whining on this particular Wednesday. But it's tradition and I do so love traditions. Why did I feel guilty? It was my 24th wedding anniversary and I've already expressed how much I love and adore my sweet William. I don't want to be with anyone else or anywhere else. A truly blessed life. So I have nothing of true substance to whine about. But picking on silly little things is a whole lot of fun.


I went to Joann's yesterday and came away with this gorgeous rainbow of fabrics. Admit it, even if you don't particularly care for orange, it made you smile. Got a project in the works. Hope, hope hope it turns out like I ...hope. Anyway, after lunch, I try to get into my car and the doors are locked. I have to confess, I never lock my doors. Ever. Trust me when I say that my car isn't at risk of being stolen. I think we paid $600 for it a couple years ago. And before I get a lecture on personal safety, I never get in without checking the back seat- can't figure how people always fall into that situation in the movies... You know, they get in and shocker! some one is in the back seat with a gun... maybe it's because they always lock their doors and assume no one is in the back seat... yeah, I bet that's it. I digress. So my car doors are uncharacteristically locked. Unlocking and getting in, I notice a big box between the seats. A serger with a love note on top! He is the most darling man ever. Took a break in work to buy and deliver it for me. How sweet was that? Being Will, he got a great deal, so I'm trying not to feel too guilty to be on the receiving end of such a generous gift.

My "Mundane" Monday...

The past week has been anything but mundane, so it makes sense that Monday followed suit. Ever feel like there are just too many deadlines in life? Things that have to be done by this day and stuff that needs to be done by that day. I don't like it when it gets to be all about the deadlines. Some people call that motivation. I'm thinkin' its more of a pressure tank than I want to live in.


Finished the wedding quilt in time for the wedding shower. Carrie loved it and Miss Daisy, age 84y, chirped up that she was gonna get married. I wish I'd gotten a picture of the backing. Found a close up! I tie dyed it a couple summers ago and Carrie was very happy about that. Apparently she has a thing for tie-dye. Who knew? Turned out all very well, I guess. The girls were holding the quilt up for me- too gloomy to try and take a picture inside. And too big, as well. They nearly went para-sailing. Another reason why I usually have the guys do that job- always windy it seems.


I hesitate to call this a "doily." It turned out rather larger than I expected. Three balls of thread- the most I've ever used in a doily. Most patterns indicate how large they are expected to be- all depending on how loose or how tight you crochet. This one didn't have that little detail, but I figured it would be large as there were 38 rounds. But I didn't figure on it being quite this large. 30." I'd rather it didn't hang down over the sides of my table. I started it last fall, but put it away at round 29. Shew, those bigger rounds can go on and on and on. After an extended breather, I picked it back up and finished it. Mom- the pattern is called "Burst" and you would make one about 5 inches bigger than mine.


Roadtrip! Spent Monday on the road with Sandy. We drove up to Fort Wayne, Indiana, and visited with our friend, Marsha. She gave me that vibrant purple batik. We all like to quilt and so we kept on driving to a little town that had a very charming quilt shop called, "Caroline's Cottage." The house was built in 1871 and was stuffed with all things yummy. She had a great variety and lots of patterns and tools. I was such a good girl and used herculean self-restraint. Honestly, I broke out in a sweat. I bought a few yards of clearance fabric at $5.79. How could I not bring that home? A girl can always use more neutrals. And I just couldn't turn my back on that fleshy batik. But I only got half a yard. See? I was really very good! We visited one more fabric shop that was quite sad. They were doing some close-out sales. I picked up a few 1/2y cuts at $4 a yard and two fat quarters for a dollar, each. We had lunch at a steakhouse- can't remember the last time I ate red meat. Then we followed up with Marsha's famous pumpkin roll. Pumpkin and spices and cream cheese. What's not to like?


Since we've already hit upon my hair woes...Rained all day yesterday. Marsha was freaking out a little over the damage it might do to her hair. 'Do you know how long it takes me to get it this big?" I shook my head over that one. The more it rains, the bigger my hair gets. And it's already bigger than the average head of hair. When people look through my wedding picture album, they are sure to laugh and say,"Look how big your hair was back then!' I raise one eyebrow and wait. They invariably look up to make the comparison. Eyes bug out and they say, "oh." I'm not stuck in the past or making a fashion statement from the '80's. I have a ton of curly hair and while it isn't stylishly straight, I've better things to do with an hour of my time than blow dry and flat iron that bushy head of hair. I'd rather be sewing. Every now and then I do make the effort to restrain it, but it's usually in the winter when the humidity is down and all my hard work isn't ruined in a few hours.

And yeah, my bathroom walls are orange. People rarely look up and notice that the ceiling is purple. Might as well have some fun- it's just another empty canvas. Have a great week!

Friday favorites...

There's no place like home. Our house on the prairie.

My brother flew over in his plane and he took this snapshot. Every so often, we get advertisements in the mail from a company offering to take aerial pictures of our homestead. I just have to laugh. Like I want to pay for a picture of that! The barn used to stand on the bottom right corner there, but alas it bit the dust quite a few years ago. A sad day, but it was past the point of being repaired and the cost would have been much more than the value of our entire property.

The original house was built in 1891- just two rooms and a buttery- an ingenious creation of a trough in the cellar. A pipe ran from the well that was powered by a wind mill. The water would run down the pipe, through the trough and slowly out into a drain. Kept the milk/cream/butter cold. The floors are mostly wood and the ceilings are around 10'. That gives plenty of room to hang quilts. Over the years, the house has been built onto and I have to admit, we are the primary perpetrators. We didn't move any walls in the original house, but we have certainly more than doubled the living space. Rooms stick out willy nilly. We are exceptionally good at willy nilly. There are four bedrooms and three baths. A very large dining room which doubles as a schoolroom. A small livingroom, and a small TV room. The kitchen is bright and sunny, facing the south, with a very large picture window on the wall over the sink. The laundry room is small, but it has a double sink and two dryers. Oh, and of course I have a quilting room because I'm spoiled rotten. Lest you think it all sounds too perfect: the roof leaks, it's hard to heat on a budget, I can't change the seat on my toilet- it seems to be fused to the stool, cobwebs are a real issue with such high ceilings, wood floors are very loud with lots of kids tramping through, and the water is hard as nails. But I love it and am thankful every day for a home that fits us so well. Every time I walk through the door I think, "I love my house!" (The first time we showed my Dad the property and asked him what he thought, he simply said, "Gotta match?" I am so happy we didn't have one on hand.)

Outside, we have a large garden (bottom right,) a few apple trees (behind the house,) a chicken house (that red dot over on the lower right) and lots of weeds and rubble and then there's the acres of grass that always need to be mowed. There's plenty of privacy and lots of room for the kids to run, play, climb, build, and dig holes. Generally, a great place to be a kid. And it ain't half bad for a grownup, either!

Wednesday's Whine of the Week...




So what's with that? No, I didn't take the battery covers off my remote controls to show you something. The covers are what I wish I could show you, but you'll notice I can't. Because they're missing. You have my word, this is not a staged picture. My house is the Bermuda Triangle for battery covers. There one moment and then gone the next, never to be seen again. It's a mystery. Maybe they're part of someone else's collection- an apothecary jar full of them displayed to their best advantage. I know I'd be impressed because I can't seem to find even one.

And since this is a Wednesday whine, I figure I can waller in it and say how annoying it is to pick up the remote only to have the batteries go spewing out. Rolling across the floor, even going under the bed- perhaps to join the missing covers. Destiny lends a hand. I'm usually quite happy to be different than most households, but in this one instance, it would be sublime to be normal. Have battery covers. Feel that sold plastic under my hand. Pushing buttons without having to hold the batteries in place. No worries about them popping out and then needing to reset the codes. Everything in order and as it should be. But why should my remote controls be any different than the other quirky things in my house? We're a matched set.