We're All Connected


It is late and I'm having a Biblical bout of mast cell insomnia. Just got back from the States a few days ago. Sleeping hours topsy turvy after sleeping a mere 2.5 hours before my flight Sunday. My pattern since back seems to be one night regular sleep, one night no sleep, and so on. It's the breaks. Add in a new late big wave of Sahara Dust and you get not just these types of spectacular sunsets, but no sleep, no breathing right. Afraid to get in the bed. No sleep till this breaks and I get used to being home again.

House was very nearly clean when I got home, and with it just being me here for a few weeks it took one simple clean to keep it sparkling and keep it that way. 

Stinky my kitty has been clinging tighter to me than wet underwear since I got back. I know it's not all about the six pounds of cat treats I muled back with a pile of truly silly and/or thrifted things. My stash minus a couple of fountain pumps and a huge pile of fabrics bought in Amish country a few weeks ago.


 I did discover it's dangerous to go with my daughter to the fabric stores of Amish country because not only did I get all the Moda fabrics one could ever need for a quilt I am making I also somehow ended up with fabric for three different projects that she wants me to do for her. I shall be busy, not too busy to not have wonderful memories of her and others.

As a result I'm sort of creeping about during the day unpacking and doing small chores I'd put off. Example: today I did my entire huge pile of hand mending. It brought back memories. Of my maw in law and my youngest child. My maw in law because she'd saved a lot of her mending and simple tailoring for when I visited. Since the time I married my big man-child of a lug of a husband I'd show up, and sometime on that first day she'd shove the entire pile in my hands to take care of. Used to be my hand stitching was exceptionally fine. Now that I have vision issues my skillz are sorely eroded and my mending pile has threatened to take over my  sewing room. I am intrinsically linked backwards to the maw in law by this lovely pleasant memory of things like lowering hems and fixing lace.

How this all links forward to my daughter in memories is that I also ended up repairing my bedraggled turquoise star pin cushion she made in Home Economics for me. I remember that she was frustrated with how hard hand sewing was and she flung the star at me with a hurried 'here!'. I loved it from the moment I laid eyes on it. It carried a truly rustic cottage country feel to it. The star was imperfect and riddled with less than perfect stitchery. But it is precious to me. I've had it twenty years now. Priceless, just like a hand made patchwork pillow by my other daughter. There are some things I will treasure forever. 

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