August 7, 2010

This evening, my youngest son, age 17, said, "Mom, when a you ask a girl what's wrong and she says, 'Nothing.', she doesn't mean that, does she?"

"No, darling.  She doesn't."  

I was about to explain that this is one of the many coded messages that women send out, that nothing does not, in fact, mean nothing.  Nothing means, "You know what's bothering me! And if you don't, you should!"  However, my son beat me to the punch.

"I think, when they say that, what they really mean is that something is wrong and that I should be able to figure that out."

Impressive. To realize this out at the age of seventeen shows remarkable insight; his father was twice his age before he cracked the code.  

I explained to my beloved boy that pretty much every woman on the planet sets her jaw and says, "Nothing" when she means, "Something" and that this has been going on for at least a few thousand years.

"Well, that's dumb," he said. "If something is bothering you, why not say so? If you want me to do something, tell me what it is and I will.  You should tell women to stop it."

I would, dear boy, but somehow I don't think it would make any difference.  

July 18, 2010

I was going to begin this post by apologizing for failing to blog in so long but I've apologized for that on so many occasions that, at some point, it just begins to feel disingenuous.  

I'm not disingenuous.  Truly, I am not. I sincerely regret not being more faithful about these things but regret is not the same as resolve, is it?  The truth is, I cannot tell you with any certainty that I'll be better about blogging in the future, only that I want to.  But, really, does that do any good?  

I want to blog twice a week, every week.  I want to compose pithy, witty, insightful little snippets that will make you smile and think, posts you'll want to forward to friends in need of encouragement.  I want my house to be clean all the time.  I really want to get everyone (and by "everyone" I mean mostly me) to stop dumping their junk on the kitchen counter; it's driving me nuts.  I want to get up every single day and walk three miles right after breakfast at a brisk 4.5 miles per hour.  I want to lose twenty pounds.  Or ten.  I want to raise chickens and goats and make my own goat cheese.  I want to quit squinting when I read and doing that weird laugh thing I just realized I do.  I want to organize my fabric stash.  I want to stitch the binding on my son and daughter-in-love's wedding quilt before the baby is born.  I want to be there one hundred percent for everyone I should be there for whenever it is they need me.  Oh, and I want to finally get to the garden store and buy a bigger pot for my poor gardenia.  The leaves are starting to turn a very distressing shade of yellow. 

But as my mother, The Sage, has been known to say, "wantin' ain't gettin'".  

Indeed not.

History has proven that, while I sincerely want to do all these things, in the foreseeable future I will probably only accomplish some small percentage of them and, even then, incompletely.  I do hold out some hope for re-potting the gardenia, binding the quilt, and possibly clearing off the kitchen counters, but beyond that....

When they were little, my kids were big apologizers.  They apologized at the drop of a hat or the slightest hint of a maternal scowl.  This made me crazy because I knew they didn't mean it.  About six words into their speech of faux remorse I'd shout, "Don't be sorry!  Be different!"

So, I'm not going to apologize today.  If I can't promise you my apology will result in a change of behavior, then what is the point?  

However, I can promise you this; I'm trying to be different.  Certainly I want to be different.  

It isn't much.  I know that.  It sure isn't a guarantee.  But it is a start.  And a start, a sincere one, is nothing to sneeze at.  After all, everything we ever do begins with everything we ever start to do.  At the moment, that's the best I've got.

June 16, 2010

It's a long drive from my home in Connecticut to Columbus, Ohio, so I decided to stop in Pennsylvania and spend the night with my friend, Deb Tucker.  (Deb is the talented woman who designed the Star Crossed Love table runner pattern available free to registered Reading Friends and the full Star Crossed Love quilt available on her website www.studio180design.net).

Yesterday I was just about to Deb's and looking forward to a delicious dinner at her home when, as I was driving in the passing lane at 60 miles an hour, the tire fell off my car!  No, not a blowout, the whole tire came off!

Somehow, on the three remaining wheels, I was able to steer the car to the right side of the road and come safely to a stop.  I was remarkably calm until it was all over; only then did my hands begin to shake. I called Deb on my cell and told her of my predicament.  

She was on the scene pretty quickly and when she saw my car sitting there by the side of the road, tireless and tilted to the left, and me unharmed, she said, "How in the world did you manage to drive it that way?"  

"Because God was my co-pilot," I answered.  The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced it's true!    

June 15, 2010

Just wanted to let you know I'll be at the NQA Quilt Show in Columbus, Ohio from June 17-19, signing at the Quilt Books Unlimited booth (#600) and giving my "When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Turn to Quilting" presentation. For more information on times and such, check the Appearances section of the site.

A friend tells me that Columbus is America's Retail Laboratory - which apparently means they try out new stuff they think consumers might enjoy on the good folks of Columbus.  She further informs me that this makes a trip to the mall absolutely necessary for me.  Who am I to argue with such sage advice?  Looks like I may get a little retail AND fabric therapy this trip.   

June4, 2010

I am hard at work on my next Cobbled Court novel and have little (make that NO) time to blog but when this arrived in my email today, I just had to take a moment to share it with you.

Reading it made me remember that, as hard as I'm working on this book, I don't work half as hard as when my three boys were in grade school.  How was I EVER able to do all that?

THE  NEXT SURVIVOR SERIES

Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 

3 kids each for six weeks. 

Each kid will play two sports and take either

 music or dance classes.  

There is no fast food.

Each man must take care of his 3 kids;  

keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, 

complete science projects, cook, do laundry, 

and pay a list of 'pretend' bills 

with not enough money. 

In addition, each man 

will have to budget enough money 

for groceries each week. 

Each man must remember the birthdays of 

All their friends and relatives, 

and send cards out on time--no emailing. 

Each man must also take each child 

to a doctor's appointment, 

a dentist appointment 

and a haircut appointment.

He must make one unscheduled and 

inconvenient visit per child to the Emergency Room.

He must also make cookies or cupcakes 

for a school function.

Each man will be responsible

for decorating his own assigned house,

 planting flowers outside, 

and keeping it presentable at all times.

The men will only have access to television

when the kids are asleep and all chores are done. 

The men must shave their legs, 

wear make up daily, 

adorn themselves with jewelry, 

wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes,

keep fingernails polished, 

and eyebrows groomed 

During one of the six weeks, 

the men will have to endure severe 

abdominal cramps, backaches, headaches,

have extreme, unexplained mood swings 

but never once complain or slow  down from other duties. 

They must attend weekly school meetings and church, 

and find time at least once to spend 

the afternoon at the park or similar 

setting.

 They will need to read a book to the kids each night 

and in the morning,

feed them, dress them, 

brush their teeth and 

comb their hair by 7:30 am.

A test will be given

at the end of the six weeks,

and each father will be required to know

all of the following information: 

each child's 

birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size, 

doctor's name, the child's weight at birth, 

length, time of birth, and length of labor, 

each child's favorite color, middle name, 

favorite snack, favorite song, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear, 

and what they want to be when they grow up.

The kids vote them off the island based on performance. 

The last man wins only if...he still 

has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse 

at a moment's notice.

If the last man does win, 

he can play the game over and over and over again

for the next 18-25 years, eventually earning the right 

to be called Mother 

May 24, 2010

At long last, we have had an opportunity to put together some pictures from our recent travels to the Paducah Quilt Show and points beyond.  Enjoy!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mariebee1/sets/