Friday, January 29, 2016

FRIDAY STIR FRY - Creative Process

I made this. 

And yes, it's hand quilted. Every ... last ... stitch. It took four months and I have the calloused fingers to prove it. It is for my grandson Clark. 

My grandmother quilted. She would make at least two a year. It was more for protection against the cold Ozark winters instead of a show piece. That's not to say she wasn't proud of her handy work. I remember as a child, spending summers on my grandparent's farm and attending quilting bees with her. There were usually up to ten other women, all sitting around a square frame, stitching, gossiping, and exchanging recipes. At noon we would share a pot luck lunch. The younger children would then be put down for a nap. The older ones, including myself, could be found under the quilt frame playing with our dolls or trucks. When the quilt was finished it was given to a needy family with no thought of compensation. It's just what they did.

When she died, I inherited her frames. My ex mother-n-law quilted and so I would join her many afternoons next to grandma's quilting frame while we watched our soap operas. She embroidered tops for each grandchild. We quilted them and they received them on their wedding day. My son treasures his. So, it was just natural that I would make a quilt for his first born.

People were surprised I could do this. "You write and quilt?" 
"Yes, and work, and scrapbook." 

It makes you realize that not everybody has the 'creative' gene.

Let me know in the comments what you like to create.

Friday, January 22, 2016


Wow, I haven't posted anything in a month. Not a good start to the new year. Sorry if I've disappointed any of my many fans. ;-)

I don't make resolutions, but I am hoping to accomplish some things this year. Just making it through another winter is one. I really hate winter. I'm not a cold weather person. I don't think snow is pretty. I've actually feared winter ever since we had a horrific ice storm in 2007. I was out of power for 2 weeks and had to scramble to find places to stay. Not fun. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Well, maybe one.

I want to make writing a top priority this year. Not just something I do when I have the time, Because, really, when is there ever enough time? And the older I get, the more I realize time is slipping away at an alarming rate of speed. It's like I can hear the seconds, minutes, and hours tick off. The hourglass is getting low Dorothy and the monkeys are waiting to tear you apart limb by limb.

Damn monkeys.