The Brother-In-Law Quilt seems to be taking forever, although a baby shower did interrupt a few days’ worth of work. My youngest daughter’s best friend is due in November, and that young woman is like a daughter to the hubby and myself. So, in becoming de facto grandparents this autumn, we hosted her shower, with mustaches as the theme (the couple is expecting a boy). Today, errant mustaches litter my floors, even though last night I scooped the bulk off tables and the buffet, and even swept the floors. I feel like we’ll be finding ‘staches for ages to come.
While I don’t *quite* feel that way about this quilt, it does carry a lingering presence. I’m halfway done with the back binding, but it seems like this particular project doesn’t wish to leave this house. Oi! Get on your way quilt, and if you sneak some ‘staches with you, I won’t be sad.
Maybe impending grandmother-hood is hampering my progress. Cleaning my house for the shower certainly was an impediment; I’m the sort who keeps a relatively tidy home, but the big cleaning only happens when events are slated. I’m not bothered with a layer of dust, neither (thank the Lord) is my husband. But it is nice to sit in the cleanliness that now permeates the whole place. We have a small house, and needed every inch to accommodate guests. Even my grotto closet got a clear-out, and fabric still sits in bags in the garage. No need to bring it inside until I finish this quilt!
Ahem. So, today and tomorrow I’ll be hand-sewing, but also sneaking in a little reading of…The Hawk. No, not Heaven Lies East of the Mississippi; that manuscript’s necessary sequel is once again being shoved to the back burner, not sure why, other than I took a little peek at a few Hawk chapters and felt drawn to read a few more. And that led to some ideas for how the continuation could resume and… And the next thing I knew I was getting excited to write!
(While still binding that BIL Quilt, but no longer using Lysol Wipes like they’re going out of business, whew…)
My husband is taking off next week for a ten-day business sojourn. Without him around, my days will be long and a little lonely, especially when our son is away on his jaunts. That’s the perfect time to buckle down with some literary work, not to mention sewing. (Hopefully) I will write in the mornings, leaving the afternoons, and evenings, free to piece together a plethora of quilts, which sit in stacks here in the grotto. Those have been returned, while the bulk remains out of sight.
If I can’t see all those fabrics, I might be more inclined to consider plots.
This has happened before, when the husband goes to his August conference, well, the writing-part. The sewing will be new, but that’s good, because one thing I’ve found as a grandmother-to-be is that I can’t write like I used to, and I don’t mean a writer’s block-sort-of-hindrance. I mean I’m forty-eight years old and my energy simply isn’t what it used to be. Cleaning house wasn’t a three-day whirlwind; it was a two-week project of its own after my dad’s party. Granted, there was a lot to clean, but no longer can I just bust out two or three rooms a day. Plus there was sewing to do and… Well, no writing, but some reading. And reading is an integral part of writing, if one has a manuscript that they haven’t looked at in say, oh, six months.
About the time I set aside The Hawk, my de facto daughter was just starting her forty-week journey on the path to motherhood.
And now here we are, mustaches catching my eye in the living room and computer area. She’s going to have a son, and I’d love to give birth to a completed manuscript, not to mention that BIL quilt. But my tasks require less physical energy, far less physical pain too, thank goodness. I’ll leave the pregnancy gig to the younger generation; I’d be happy to wrap my head around a novel and some fabrics (which do include those for the little man in utero), all the while enjoying my clean house. And making potato salad and deviled eggs. I got on the egg kick for Dad’s party, then came home with Mom’s potato salad recipe, and gave that a go. I think I’m into making those traditional dishes because they are the sorts of foods grandmothers make. Or at least this grandmother; comfort is a good thing, whether it stems from babies, quilts, books, or home cooking. And sometimes it even comes from cleaning.
Or it does after the cleaning is all done…