February Photos

Monday, August 10, 2015

A Quilt is Finished

I didn’t have to worry about watering new trees and new grass all week long, thankfully; the sky did it for me.  Victoria wasn’t as thankful as I was, because a couple of times she forgot her clothes out on the line in the rain, and she needed some of those items for work.  But she hung them in front of a fan in her room, and managed to get to work in mostly a dry state.
My computer makes various sounds when I get emails.  A different audio clip plays for each person who writes.  I thought all this was so nifty, when we first got a computer.  I could be in the kitchen cooking supper, hear my computer playing a sound clip, and know exactly who wrote to me.  But one day a friend(?) learned that the PC played Singing in the Bathtub when she wrote – and she never wrote again!  What in the world.  What’s so objectionable about Singing in the Bathtub, I’d like to know??
Oh, well; people like that are too HM (High Maintenance) anyway.
Let’s hope one of my friends doesn’t think I am somehow insinuating she’s a frog, because I picked the ‘Tree Frogs’ clip to signify the arrival of one of her emails. 
Sometimes my choice of audio clip has nothing to do with the person with whom it’s associated; I might choose it just because it’s funny, or cute, or maybe it just stands out, and I’ll be sure to notice it.  Or maybe I just closed my eyes, wiggled the mouse around, and clicked any ol’ thang.
Well, that’s my story, and I’m a-stickin’ to it.
Have you been hearing about the wildfires in California?  These pictures are from what is called ‘The Rocky Fire’.  By yesterday morning, it was 85% contained.  It had burned nearly 70,000 acres, with 3,100 firefighters fighting it when it was at its worst.  43 homes burned, 53 outbuildings were destroyed, and 8 structures were damaged.  13,000 people were evacuated, though they have now been allowed to return home.  About 30 fires are burning in California right now, most of them in Northern California.
I spent the majority of the week working on the Cross-Stitched-Block quilt for my brother.  However, I got sidetracked for a little while now and then when I looked out the window and saw hundreds upon hundreds of butterflies swarming the purple coneflowers. 
What did you expect me to do, ignore them?!  And now there’s a cardinal, a wren, and – oh, look!  A squirrel! – on the back deck.
Gotta keep telling myself, The squirrel will return.  The squirrel will return.  The squirrel will return.
I like to have nature documentaries playing as I quilt.  I miss a lot of the pretty pictures, but there is constant commentary, so I do know what’s going on, and learn all sorts of interesting things. 
By 2:00 a.m., I’d made it to the final row of the quilt.  Those tedious micro-stitched sashings were all done, every last one of them.  The cross-stitched blocks were all done.  The half-squares on the bottom of the quilt were all marked and ready to quilt; they wouldn’t take long.  After the narrow bottom border, I would need to take the quilt off the frame, turn it, reload it, and quilt the ten half-squares along the sides.
I found a little daisy that had been overlooked during the embroidery.  I hunted in my small collection of embroidery thread – and found a skein that was exactly the right color.  Too bad I didn’t notice before the quilt was on the frame.  Oh, well; I know how to hide knots.  In theory.
People have been asking questions about my Windows 10 upgrade.  Here are a few observations:  Live Photo Gallery is pretty much the same as it was before.  My pictures started opening in ‘Photos’ by default; I switched them back to ‘Photo Viewer’.  Then I changed my mind and switched back to ‘Photos’ to try out the editing tools – and discovered it compresses photos when it saves.  I couldn’t find a way to change that, nor could I find any information about it online.  Furthermore, the photos display in a compressed form, so that if you zoom in, they look pixelated.  Yuck, that’s no good.  I switched back to Photo Viewer.  I use both viewer and gallery all the time. 
Win 10 Viewer is slightly different.  I like to see the properties of a photo when I click on it, rather than having to open it or right-clicking and then clicking Properties.  This is now displayed in a wide bar on the right, rather than in a narrow ribbon at the bottom of the window.  The function for enlarging or shrinking thumbnails is at the bottom right... or you can get to it from the large toolbar ribbon at the top, which you can set to show all the time or only when you click on a tab in the toolbar.  There are more tools, too.
I like experimenting with new stuff, and I like the challenge of making everything work exactly like I want it.  A couple of months ago, I had signed up to receive a notice when Win 10 was ready, and the notice, when it came, scrolled up from the Notification Area of the screen (bottom right).  I checked around online to make sure nothing dreadful was happening when people installed it, saw that there were mostly only a few cosmetic issues, thought, I know how to cope with that, and clicked Install.
My laptop is faster, and even more importantly, cooler.  It had been running much too hot lately.  My computers generally only live about three years ... but this one is past that, and still working pretty well.  I use the daylights (and stuffin’s) outa them! 
A friend wrote to one of the online quilting groups, “Yesterday I joined Sarah Lynn’s Dead Dryer Club!  DH and I went out and bought one last night...”
I responded, “You can’t belong to the DDC if you already purchased a new one!  That’ll make the rest of us all jealous and malicious and rascally and stuff.”
Signed,
,,,>^..^<,,,     Sarah Lynn, Pres., DDC      ,,,>^..^<,,,
                     Membership by Request

(We interrupt this station because we have just noticed a couple of large yellow swallowtails, a viceroy, a Red Admiral, several skippers, an Eastern comma, and a plethora of white and yellow sulphurs fluttering around the front-yard flowers, and must grab camera and go get a few shots.)
*      *      *   Okay, I’m back.
Oh!!!  Hummingbird alert!  Hummingbird alert!  Female rubythroat!! --- and just like that, she’s gone.  No chance to trot out with the camera.  We rarely see them in the middle of the summer.  This means... we need to put fresh nectar in the feeders!
Wednesday I finished the main part of the quilt and reloaded it so as to do the half-squares on the sides.  Maybe, maybe, maybe, I would get done in time!  Here it is, midway through reloading:
Loren called before church that evening to tell me he had a sore throat and didn’t feel well, so was going to stay home.  I worry about him when he gets sick.  It doesn’t happen very often, though.  He still has a bit of a cold, though he’s feeling better now.  Most of the time, he’s quite healthy. 
The first couple of months after Janice passed away (May 29, 2014) were difficult for him, especially since while he was dealing with the grief and loneliness, financial matters had to be dealt with – getting things changed into his name... supplying one place after another with a copy of the death certificate... canceling insurance... all sorts of things that had him feeling overwhelmed.  Now he’s gotten into a good rhythm, and he’s generally a happy person, always busy, always helping one person or another, and doing quite well, really.  Every now and then when he thanks me for fixing him a meal, he’ll get a bit emotional about it.  Last week, he got tears in his eyes as he said that in addition to the meals, he appreciates our friendship... so I said that all the mowing and weed-eating he had done around our yard earlier took a whole lot more time and energy than the mashed potatoes I’d made! – and then he laughed instead.
He’s always been my confidante...  and these days, I am his, too.  So is Larry; they are the best of friends.  They’re so friendly, in fact, I suspect it was Larry who gave him the sore throat! 
Lura Kay, upon reading a note wherein I remarked that Loren’s birthday was Saturday, wrote to remind me that his birthday was Sunday, August 9th.
I replied, “Oh!  That’s right... I’ve gotten his birthday mixed up ever since Lyle (Larry’s father) came along with a birthday on January 8th.  (Or at least it’s the best excuse I can think of at the moment.)”
Then I added, “Hmmm... I just checked back in my notes, and I see that, back on July 11th, I actually knew Loren’s birthday was on the 9th.  So that proves my mind is still a-comin’ and a-goin’!  It’s always good to have an active mind.”
So I have an extra day!  (Not that I’d stay home from church to quilt.)
Larry got home earlier than usual Tuesday night – 6:30 p.m. instead of 9:30 or so – and was going to work on the large garage, but just as he was getting all prepared to commence with vigor, Victoria called from town:  something had gone wrong with the steering.  So off went Larry to rescue her.  He put a new hose on the car, put steering fluid back in, and they got home – at 11:30 p.m.  (The old hose wouldn’t come off... the new hose wouldn’t go on... the usual.)
While Larry worked on her car, Victoria transferred nearly 700 songs from her iPad to the mp3 player on the Jeep.  When I climbed in it to go to church Wednesday night, lo and behold, the Old Fashioned Revival Hour Quartet was singing that lively song, Hold Out Your Light!  I’m so pleased!  I’ve been meaning to do that ever since we got the vehicle, way last fall.
Wednesday night Larry didn’t get home from work until a quarter ’til midnight.  And he had to be back to work at 5:30 a.m.  He was just about asleep when Victoria got home and informed us that her car had once again lost the steering fluid.  There was another hole in another hose somewhere.
She would be driving the Jeep Thursday.  And Friday.  And Saturday.  And today.
I would be hitchhiking.  Or employing the ol’ shankhosses.  Or borrowing the neighbor’s wooly old donkey.  Or staying home.
I got one side of the quilt done and rolled it to the other end to finish the next day.  I finally remembered to time myself quilting one of those large half-square triangles:  22 minutes.  There were five left, and I hadn’t marked them yet.  It would take at least 2 ½ hours to complete, if I didn’t take any breaks.  But my hands (and other parts of me, too) were protesting.  A short break now and then is good!  A short break now and then is necessary!  I must remember to take short breaks now and then.
When the quilt was done, it needed to be washed to remove all the marks – blue marks originally printed on the cross-stitched blocks for quilting lines, marks I’d put on it with FriXion pens and Crayola markers, and a few bloodspots from when Janice was embroidering it.  I looked at WeatherBug and discovered there was a 50% chance of storms on Saturday.  And, you’ll recall, I belong to the Dead Dryer Club.
I wonder if anyone has ever presented someone with a quilt – dripping wet?  You could say, “Here’s your birthday gift!  Just run it through the dryer for half an hour, and there you’ll be, then, with a freshly laundered quilt.  And you’re welcome.”
I will admit that the electric bill is lower, when one doesn’t have a dryer.
But I need a dryer!!!!!!!!!!!
A friend who lives in Colorado sent me a link to news story about a car hauler who tipped his truck over on an Interstate in Denver.  Denver seems to have more than their fair share of accidents.  It’s no wonder, the way people drive in that city. 
Larry once had a driveshaft break on a truck as he was towing a car trailer through there – and he was in the middle lane of five.  He was coasting, turn signal on, and the rig was slowing fast  on account of the driveshaft dragging; but he would have had time to pull to the shoulder, if anyone would’ve let him!  But nooooooooo... no one would.  So he wound up stopped smack-dab in the middle of the interstate.  Hazardous, to say the least. 
However, he hadn’t been there five minutes before the tow trucks started showing up – five of them!  Like vultures they are, hovering, waiting for vehicular demises.  He didn’t have enough money to pay a vulture (nor even a canary), so he waited for the police, so they could turn their lights on behind him, protecting him while he got out and locked in the front hubs.  Then, while they stopped traffic, he drove to the shoulder, front wheels pulling.  He removed the driveshaft, drove to the dealership where he’d been going, fixed his truck, and got back to business.
Thursday when I called Loren to see if he would like some supper, I told him, “If you want supper from me tonight, you’ll have to come and get it, because Victoria is driving the Jeep!”
I could tell right away that he wanted to come, and he’d like to eat with us, rather than just pick up the food and take it home.  So he called Larry... convinced him to quit work a little earlier than usual... and soon they were both here, and we had a nice supper together. 
Hannah sent me a note: 
She was making supper.
Levi, who loves to help his Mama cook, asked, “May I stir this now?”
Hannah, still adding ingredients, replied, “Just a minute.”
Levi, taking things quite literally, as he does, answered sweetly, “Okay.”  And he proceeded to set the timer for one minute.  hee hee
After supper, I left the dishes in the sink for the maid (ha) and scurried back to the quilting machine.  I turned on a documentary about China’s red pandas... then continued with a Nature Special on Alien Reefs – deep ocean critters.  I learn all about groupers, snappers, and jacks.  And let us not forget oceanic snow.  I like learning about, ... oh, ... just everything.  (Almost everything.)  There are certainly a whole lot of amazing things in this world of ours.
I had to turn and look at the screen when a deep-ocean walking red prawn (some type of crustacean that looks like a huge, deformed, granddaddy longlegs) almost got too close to a lurking monkfish, big ol’ ugly mouth wide open and ready.  (I’ve seen modern-day ‘singers’[?] that look just like that.)
Larry, meanwhile, was outside using the jack hammer (or something mighty like it) on a big chunk of cement outside his ‘new’ garage that was getting in the way of his scissors lift and making it topsy-turvy when he tried positioning it there.  He quit shortly before dark.  (Mrs. Crabbypants from next door did not show her face.)
At 11:00 p.m., I finished the quilting, removed the quilt from the frame, and prepared to start the binding.  It was already cut; I only had to sew the strips together and attach it to the quilt.
Tabby came to greet me.  I leaned down to pet him, saw what I thought was a small bright green piece of yarn in his tail – but it was a tiny caterpillar!  So I had to take a few minutes to rush for the macro lens and get some close-ups of it.  It was such a funny little thing, with a horn on its tail, thin white stripe and tiny orange dots... but it’s a bold little creature, too!  Even though it was tiny, barely as big as my thumbnail, it stood up tall, lifting the entire front half of its body, trying to look as scary and intimidating as possible, every time my lens got too close for comfort. 
I believe this little guy is a fresh-hatched, white-lined sphinx caterpillar.  But I could be wrong.  I’m no authority on the matter of caterpillars.  I put the caterpillar outside and got back to business.
Before I could begin on the binding, though, I had to install a new light bulb over my sewing table.  They always burn out when I’m in the biggest hurry.  I went hunting for my stepstool.  Where was it?!
Five minutes later, I found it.  Wouldn’t you know, Larry had borrowed it, and it’s out in the garage with greasy ol’ tools on it. 
I brewed a new pot of coffee (Cameron’s Amaretto with overtones of almond and apricot) (really! – that’s what it says on the bag!).  Thusly fortified, I then made like an acrobat, shinnied up on a wobbly sewing chair, stood on tiptoes on the marble sewing table to brace fingertips on a rafter I could barely reach, and, with a great deal of shimmying, shaking, quaking, and quivering, I screwed a new light bulb into the socket.  This will need to be repeated sometime soon with a brighter light.  And hopefully with the stepstool instead of the wobbly sewing chair.
I launched into the binding.  It’s a loooong way around this quilt – it measures 105” x 131”.  When the binding was sewn to the top of the quilt, I quit for the night.  I would finish it the next day.
Friday, I folded the binding around to the back of the quilt, pinned (vewy, vewy ca’fully), and then stitched in the ditch from the front, catching just 1/16” of the edge of the folded binding on the back.  
When Victoria got off work, she got two different types of OxyClean, which I applied to the stains on the quilt before putting it into the washing machine. 
This was somewhat hair-raising.  I wondered, Will Janice’s cross-stitched blocks still be in one piece when it comes out?  I set the washer on the Hand-Wash Gentle cycle, on cold, to try to get the blood spots out first.  Then I cringed, pressed ON, and hoped for the best.
In the meanwhile, I started on the machine-embroidered label.  The quilt had to have a better name than ‘Cross-Stitched-Block quilt’, as I’ve been calling it.  I asked friends for suggestions... then settled on ‘August Bouquet’.
A lady on a quilting group wrote about her difficulties.  She looks at award-winning quilts, sighs, and thinks, That will never be me.  How do people do them?  “Does anyone else ever feel like this?” she asked.
Yes, yes, me!  Me! 
I have all sorts of calamities and catastrophes and potential twubbles and twials (à la my Caleb, when he was a wee little guy)... and just press on anyway and try not to look at the problems.  For instance... 
(If I tell you this, you’ll never tell, will you??)
(I knew you wouldn’t, so I shall proceed.)
There are several actual tucks in the back of this quilt I made my brother!  I wanted it to be sooo perfect... and I tried willy, willy hard...  and then I got it off the frame and found the tucks.  And there they shall stay.  This happened because my frame is 14 feet long, and the poles are really not sturdy enough for that length when supporting a large, heavy quilt, and they sag in the middle.  I roll it tighter as I get to the middle, looser as I get to the edges, so the tension will be just right.  Obviously, I didn’t get it quite right.
Next:  there’s a little bit of raw seam showing on my sister’s Folded Star table topper.  I looked at it a while... scratched my head... applied Fray Block (better than Fray Check, because it stays pliable and soft)... and refused to look at it again.  (And it won first place at the fair – so evidently no one else looked at that spot either.)
Then there’s the Mosaic Lighthouse quilt.  It had several areas where there was too much fullness, evidently because each of the gazillion seams were not exactly identical to every other one of the gazillion seams.  Sooo... I ker-smooshed it all down with quilting.  If anyone looks for it, they’ll see that the seams are not nice and straight in some places, because they got all crooked in the ker-smooshing.
A couple of years ago, I made a schoolhouse quilt for my father-in-law, Lawrence.  Fortunately, I noticed a mistake in the pattern of the roof angle before I cut the fabric, and fixed it.  But the chimneys refused to sit in their proper places atop the roofs – because I hadn’t noticed there was also an error in the measurement of the top rows of the blocks!  Aarrgghh.  It was an old kit someone had given me, with no extra fabric, so I couldn’t cut new pieces.  I decided those were magical chimneys, with the ability to hover in midair. 
Lawrence loved it.  He’s sentimental, and was so pleased that I would make him something.
These things happen almost every single time I ever make anything, not just a quilt.  As my friend Penny once said after a song we were working on went awry during a public singing, “We cringe and press on.” 
And sometimes, we even laugh and press on.
People complimented the singers on that song, as if nothing had ever gone wrong. 
So... the moral of the story is this:  people don’t care nearly so much about perfection as they do about love, kindheartedness, and compassion.  Be generous with all that, and no one will ever notice if you have more bad hair days than good, or a dreadfully nasal voice, or if you remove so many feathers from your Flying Geese that all they can do is waddle and honk.
At five ’til eleven that night, I finished entering the lines for the quilt label into my Bernina, saved the design, threaded the machine with dark blue metallic thread, and pressed the Start button.  Then I went to see how the quilt had turned out.
At 1:10 a.m., I put the quilt back into the washing machine – for the fourth go-around.  The original small blue marks for quilting lines on the cross-stitched blocks had not come out.  They didn’t look too terrible, and weren’t too noticeable.  I decided to treat them like I do garden spiders:  live and let live.  The old blood spots came out better than expected – most were entirely gone.  The FriXion pen marks were not coming out well.  The purple Crayola marker that made such dark lines my hair stand up on end came out fine in the very first wash.  I rubbed the pen marks thoroughly with OxyClean gel, and gave it another try on the Warm/Warm setting.  The last setting was Hot/Cold – maybe the cold temp brought the marks back? 
Back in my sewing room, I scribbled on a scrap of fabric with the FriXion pens, then ironed them — and presto, the marks all vanished.  So I would try touching up the marks with an iron, if they were still there when the quilt dried.
At 3:30 a.m., I posted the final newscast of the night on the online quilting groups to which I belong, in case anyone was poised breathlessly on the edge of her seat, waiting to see how the quilt turned out:  After the fourth washing, the manufacturer’s little blue marks on the cross-stitched blocks were gone.  The bloodspots were gone.  The FriXion pen marks, however, were still there.  Fainter, but there.  The quilt was drying on my quilting frame, and when it was dry, I would use heat to remove the marks.
Janice’s embroidery still looks vibrant and lovely, and not a single stitch came loose.  I looked on the back of the extra block for the pillow, and saw why:  she embroidered with knots.  Nice fat ones!  Thank goodness.
Saturday afternoon, I wrote the next episode in the series:

About FriXion Pens – and My Brother’s Quilt
First, I have the following news:  all the marks except the largest and darkest bloodspot (which is now so light as to be nearly unseen) are out, including the blue marks originally stamped on the cross-stitched blocks.
Now, I’ve tried simply ironing the marks from the FriXion pens, and they do indeed vanish.  They will reappear when cold.  They can leave ‘ghost marks’ on some fabrics.  The chemicals that make up the ink, according to many articles I’ve read, also need to be washed out, so as not to leave residual amounts in the fabric, and to better preclude them from showing up again.  And they might anyway.  Here are a few of the many articles I read – interesting, and well worth reading:
After my quilt dried, I steamed the few marks left by the FriXion pens.  I didn’t want to press, much, because the wool batting has given it a nice loft, and I didn’t want to squish it.  The marks are gone; the quilt looks pristine and new.  No, that’s not correct.  It looks ‘heirloom’ crinkly.  (And it smells terrific, and is soooo soft and cuddly...  mmmmm.)  I love crisp and flat and new quilts... and I love soft and crinkly and cuddly quilts. 
I know that if the quilt gets down to, oh, say, freezing, those FriXion marks might very well show up again.  Another steaming will get rid of them – to a point.  After either numerous reheating and/or a number of years, the marks seem to become permanent. 
The pens are fairly new, so no one can say what will happen in 10-20-30 years.
Fact:  There are many and good uses for these pens, but I will not be using them again on a quilt, unless it will be in an area that will never see the light of day again.  This seems to be the general consensus of a good many people who have experience with the pens.  I will instead use Crayola’s washable markers or the vanishing-ink pens or quilt pencils.

I suddenly noticed – it wasn’t raining, it was bright enough for pictures, and the sun was periodically behind cloud cover:  perfect for quilt photos.  So I took the quilt out on the back deck and conducted a photo session. 
That done, I sewed the label on.  Next, the pillow project.  I went to get a pillow from the sewing room closet – but it wasn’t there.  I looked on shelves, in drawers...  Not there.  I’ve evidently used it already. 
Well, I had just enough time to dash to town before I needed to start supper.  I crammed my feet into my sandals, grabbed my purse, jerked open the door ------ and realized, No Jeep.  Victoria was still borrowing it, because Larry hadn’t had time to fix her car.
Aarrgghh
I put down my purse, got back into my bare feet, and cleaned the kitchen.  It did need it, and it was nice, having everything nice and clean when I started cooking.  But, ... still!  Don’t you just hate it when the wind stops so abruptly your sails descend all over your hapless pate?
I fixed Angus meatloaf burgers with brown rice and gravy, green beans, apple pie, and put a big scoop of Black Cherry frozen yogurt into a small Thermos bowl for Loren.  Black Cherry frozen yogurt and apple pie make good dessert-plate mates.  (Unless, like Keith when he was little, you think the cherries are June bugs.)
Then I wrote a note to Victoria, who would be getting off work soon:  “Could you get me a big square pillow from the Goodwill?  A nice one, firm, not lumpy, 18-20” – that’s elbow to tip of middle finger plus 4”.”
Loren came to pick up the supper I’d fixed — and I gave him the quilt, along with a birthday card that had a picture of a wolf that looked a lot like a big German shepherd he used to have.  Inside, I wrote the verse from Psalms 118, “This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”  He said with surprise, “I just read this verse!”  He smiled, then added, “We do that, rejoice, that is, when we’re thankful for our blessings.”  And that’s what my brother is like.
He was amazed about the quilt... oohed and ahhed over it... read the label two or three times... thanked me several times... and then he carried the quilt and I carried the food out to his vehicle, and he went home again.  

I walked back into the house and spotted my camera.
Aaaauuuggghhh!  Me, forget to take a picture?!  Well, I’ll take a picture of him with the quilt when I give him his pillow. 
He turned 77 Sunday; he’s a little more than 22 years older than me.  He’s always been a mighty special big brother.
Since several people have asked...  I have a sister and two brothers.  Loren was 22 and had two boys when I was born.  My sister Lura Kay is 20 years older than me, my younger brother G.W. is 17 years older.  My mother had an ectopic pregnancy when G.W. was about two and nearly died.  After her surgery, nobody thought she’d be able to have another baby.
Fifteen years later, the doctors were proven wrong.  My mother was 43 and my father was 45 when I was born.  And if you wonder... were they glad?  Here’s the answer:  my father said he chose the name ‘Sarah’ from the list he and my mother had written because ‘Sarah’ means ‘princess’, and he felt like a king. 
Victoria got home at about 6:30 p.m.  I saw her walking along the sidewalk, carrying the pillow – and knew it was only 15 or 16 inches wide, tops.  She came in, handed it to me – “Here you go!” happily.
“It’s too small,” I said.
“No, it’s not!” she protested.  “I measured!” – and she proceeded to show me, laying her arm across the pillow ---- *diagonally*, like one measures a computer screen.  HAHAHA
My extraordinarily-smart kid sure does some funny things sometimes.  :-D
So, a little after 7, Victoria and I headed to town.  I dropped her off at the church for choir practice, then headed to the Goodwill for another pillow.  I wound up with four – two large square ones, and two neck rolls.  Those are sometimes hard to find.  I paid $5.50 for the lot.  Not bad.
Lura Kay wrote me a note:  “A little motherly (or sisterly) advice...don’t stay up all night getting that quilt done!!”
I responded, “The quilt is done!  I gave it to him this afternoon.  I’m staying up all night to make the matching pillow.”
It might’ve gone fast, if I hadn’t decided to put a gazillion tucks into each of the borders.
And then---------AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!
There was a bat in the basement!
Call up the Brigade!  The Mounties!  The National Guard!  Save me!
Before the bat came along, a dragonfly had tried to sew my lips shut (remember Snoopy!).  Now a bat, to add insult to injury!
I hate bats.
Well, I don’t hate them if they stay outside where they belong, and don’t lay eggs in my hair.  But when they get in my house, that’s cause for combat and war!  Especially since they have a penchant for divebombing me.  Bat:    “There she is!  Ready... set... now aim right at her head!”    “Look at her duck and dodge!  Wheeeeeeee!  This is fun!”
I hate bats!
I turned out the lights in the front of the basement... turned on the deck lights, one story up, and opened the downstairs patio door, to Larry’s great dismay, so that the bat could exit whenever he dearly well wished.  Larry hates mosquitoes worse than I hate bats.  I informed him, “My phobia is more important than yours!” and he laughed.  He laughed!
When nothing seemed to be flapping frenetically about my head any longer, I returned to the sewing machine.  En garde, Microchiroptera, ye ol’ vespertilio.  Ah haff a tennis racket.
Please send bat helmets.
(For me, not the bat.)
We had a cat named Socks who could make a six-foot vertical leap with ease.  Any bat that got into the house immediately had a tortoiseshell cat leaping wildly after him.  I worried, lest he should find one that had rabies.  But so far, every bat we’ve ever seen around here has acted perfectly batty.  (That’s normal, for a bat.)
A bat got in our downstairs bathroom once, and Hester was suddenly looking at it eyeball to eyeball.  She screamed bloody murder, scaring the poor critter out of its livin’ hide, whereupon it took flight, and then Hester and bat were both diving and dodging and screeching (Hester) and twittering (the bat).  She said when it was flying directly at her, it looked as big as a bald eagle. 
HAHAHA
In case my quilting friends were tired of my quilting sagas, I posted Chronicles of the Bat.
It wasn’t long before a couple of ladies were writing to explain that bats, being mammals, do not lay eggs; they have live young.
Yeah.  We learned about bats in second grade.  I enjoy watching National Geographic and Pure Nature videos about them.  Incredible little creatures, aren’t they?  (But I don’t much appreciate them in my house.) 
Either everyone else knew I didn’t mean it, or they all think the bat does lay eggs, or they decided to ‘let the ignorant be ignorant still’.  Shall I write and tell them about the platypus and the echidna?  heh heh
Nary a soul commented on the dragonfly sewing my lips shut.  That old joke from the Peanuts comic strip finally made sense to me, years and years after I read it, when I discovered that there is a whole species of various dragonflies called ‘darners’.  Was I the only one who didn’t know that??
The pillow was only half done when I threw in the towel. 
After church last night, we had a before-bedtime snack – chef salad, and a slice of strawberry pie Hester made for us.  Outside, dark clouds were turning the sky pitchblack.  Lightning was flashing... thunder was rumbling... and WeatherBug sent out a severe thunderstorm alert.
It rained only enough to make WeatherCat slightly damp.
Victoria’s tiger barbs died last week; we don’t know why.  Perhaps because the big goldfish made the tank too dirty for them?  She traded the goldfish for a betta, which is a much cleaner fish.  So now she has two bowls with a betta in each, one bright red-orange, the other pale aqua-blue.  The larger tank still has the two plecos, too.
Kim Komando sent out a notice that an auto update to Win 10 causes some computers to go into an endless loop – the install fails, the computer restarts, then automatically tries to install the update again.  I checked my laptop ... and that particular update installed flawlessly four days ago.
I haven’t gotten back to the pillow today.  I’ve been washing clothes... hanging them on the line... cleaning the bathroom... typing my journal... chatting with various family members...  Oh, well.  Siempre hay un mañana .
Loren said to me today, regarding his quilt, “This is really a keepsake.”
I’m glad I could make him something featuring so much of Janice’s work; most of what she made, she gave away, so he doesn’t really have a whole lot of things she made.
Next on the agenda:  the embroidery on the Mosaic Lighthouse quilt.  It’s time (well, between now and October 16, it’s time) to send in the application to enter it in the AQS quilt show in Daytona Beach!
In my research of things to do around Daytona Beach, I discovered that we could stay on a snazzy houseboat on the St. John’s River in Florida:  Holly Bluff Marina Houseboat Rentals
I thought Victoria would think this was the best idea yet (well, maybe ‘best’ after the stables B&B).  Instead, she turned her nose up at it!  “Yeeeuuuck!” said my well-bred, cultured daughter.
Turns out, she had envisioned something like these:  

Now I should clean the kitchen (at least well enough that no one shudders when they walk in) and hit the hay.
I hope I have wheels again soon; I need to make a grocery run.  Caleb used to tell me, “Mama, don’t go to the store unless you’re hungry! – ’cuz then you get lots of good stuff.” 
Unfortunately, when Larry came home from work at about 9:30 p.m., he told me that now his pickup needs to go to the hospital – some sort of mounts have come loose, allowing the clutch fan to bump the radiator and make a hole in it.  His truck was starting to get hot by the time he got here.
We need not one, but two donkeys!
You know, ever since I read Brighty of the Grand Canyon when I was in 4th grade, I’ve wanted very badly to ride a donkey into the Canyon.  If I don’t hurry up and do that, I’m going to be too old and decrepit to ever get it done!  
 

,,,>^..^<,,,   Sarah Lynn, who’s probably too decrepit already, though not at all too old



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