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rainy day roses

Some of the grocery store rescue roses were a bit ripe. I had to assure Sweetie that it was not her fault.

oatmeal cooties

Cleaning out old stuff from the pantry, I found an ancient box of oatmeal that had a lovely colony of cooties living in it. Do you know anyone else who gets excited over buggy oatmeal? I didn't think so.

A large seven-gore skirt and a short sleeve blouse, both white linen, were just waiting in the wings for such an opportunity. I'll see how they look as garments before dismembering them. One of my favorite cotton shirts was born this way.

~70~

I was up early yesterday. It was a beautiful day, everything outside cleaned and refreshed after a day-long rain. I sat in the Birthday Chair. From here, I looked out on the crape myrtle grove he planted for me. Looked at the table he made for me and the window he put in to give me the northern light I wanted.

My habit is to hook my phone up to a little wireless speaker and play music while I work. There are over a thousand songs that the phone shuffles through randomly. Somehow, years ago, all our songs got put into this one place so not everything is to my taste.

The first thing that came up was something loud and rowdy. Linkin Park - I hit the arrow to advance to the next song. It was Jim's voice, saved from his last phone, "This is Jim. Please leave a message." Maybe ten seconds long? I thought the file had been lost. I was shocked, pleased and charmed all at once.
The next song came up automatically. Piano Concerto 2 by Rachmaninoff from the end credit of the film "Hereafter".
I could hear him in my heart, Happy Birthday, Babe.

I sat with those thoughts and threaded a few needles while I listened. My plan was to finish a few things before going out. I'm having second thoughts about that top line.

Then, we met for lunch and laughter. It was a wonderful day. Pizza on the patio with Jake and Charlie, some time at the park. Then later, Chinese with Colin and Sweetie.

I am seventy and want very much to see eighty.

the starting place

We all seem to have one. All the tasty bits squirreled away. The little toolbox with thread, wax, needles, and scissors.

Everything I need it in it.
Down in the bottom, paper and pencil.



and music to stitch by (if blogger will allow)