I had some time to do quilting today. That was a miracle, considering that in the past few days, Buddy was so sick that I thought he was going to die, I had a cold, and Mike had a night of absolutely no sleep and missed work today. After Nick went to school, Mike and I went to the junkyard together. Yesterday, we'd had to cancel our babysitter because I didn't feel well, but going to the junkyard actually felt like a date. Okay, it wasn't a high-end, dress-to-the-nines date. I could have told him I had things to do and stayed behind. I could have read, quilted, or gone to Elliot Bay Books to get more Moleskine notebooks. I didn't. Mike had been up all night, so instead, I went with him to the junk yard.
Mike and I could use a fancy date too, but the important part was that we were alone together. We talked, we laughed, we worried out loud, and we were quiet. I read the directions to him to get there, tried hand him the right tools as he pulled the part he needed. We laughed walking back to our neat little Prius, surrounded by beat-down cars including one that had a bumper sticker that said 'Redneck Stripper.' Our bumper sticker says 'Paddle faster. I hear banjos.'
After that, Mike had to stop at the auto parts store. Exciting, huh? I walked over to the grocery store to pick up some things so he could make his mom's special mac and cheese for dinner. On his way back to meet me, he bought a salad for me from Taco Time. He'd been listening when I'd said I was hungry.
These were all very ordinary events, even boring if you think about them a certain way. But I was thinking about it while I stitched my quilt tonight. I'm making an ordinary fence rail quilt. It's pretty, but very simple. I'll probably give it away because, as I worked, the recipient settled into my mind. To make a fence rail quilt, you take strips of fabric. You stitch them together and cut out squares. You arrange the squares so that the first block of strips in the row are up, the second block is across. You sew them so that they rock back and forth this way all across the quilt. It's quick to put together and now all I have to do is put on a border and quilt it. You see, simple.
Tonight, as I said goodnight to Mike, I noticed the quilt that lay over him. I had appliqued a circle onto it that fell just about where his belly button was and a star laid across his heart. I really do think that there is meaning in ordinary things. It's hard to say why a little salad would feel like red roses or how a quilt lying over someone who's half asleep would feel like a thin layer of love used to protect him.
Thank you for listening, jb
Mike and I could use a fancy date too, but the important part was that we were alone together. We talked, we laughed, we worried out loud, and we were quiet. I read the directions to him to get there, tried hand him the right tools as he pulled the part he needed. We laughed walking back to our neat little Prius, surrounded by beat-down cars including one that had a bumper sticker that said 'Redneck Stripper.' Our bumper sticker says 'Paddle faster. I hear banjos.'
After that, Mike had to stop at the auto parts store. Exciting, huh? I walked over to the grocery store to pick up some things so he could make his mom's special mac and cheese for dinner. On his way back to meet me, he bought a salad for me from Taco Time. He'd been listening when I'd said I was hungry.
These were all very ordinary events, even boring if you think about them a certain way. But I was thinking about it while I stitched my quilt tonight. I'm making an ordinary fence rail quilt. It's pretty, but very simple. I'll probably give it away because, as I worked, the recipient settled into my mind. To make a fence rail quilt, you take strips of fabric. You stitch them together and cut out squares. You arrange the squares so that the first block of strips in the row are up, the second block is across. You sew them so that they rock back and forth this way all across the quilt. It's quick to put together and now all I have to do is put on a border and quilt it. You see, simple.
Tonight, as I said goodnight to Mike, I noticed the quilt that lay over him. I had appliqued a circle onto it that fell just about where his belly button was and a star laid across his heart. I really do think that there is meaning in ordinary things. It's hard to say why a little salad would feel like red roses or how a quilt lying over someone who's half asleep would feel like a thin layer of love used to protect him.
Thank you for listening, jb
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