Meanings of Life

Cream tea on Mother's Day, spent with my eldest and husband, and plenty of English-type goodies!

Cream tea on Mother’s Day, spent with my eldest and husband, and plenty of English-type goodies!

I made a bigger than usual pot of coffee this morning, not all caffeinated, I will add.  I usually drink a two-thirds regular to one-third decaf brew, but just a couple of cups.  The last few mornings Silicon Valley has been blessed with cool temps, so I’ve enjoyed my java without feeling overheated.  Still, two cups just wasn’t enough, so this morning, I have plenty of joe, to start off the day perfectly.

No, not a cup of joe, but my scone from Sunday, although I did take a bite, to make sure it was tasty.  I wasn't disappointed....

No, not a cup of joe, but tea alongside my scone from Sunday.  Very tasty, especially with freshly whipped cream….

Life is truly good, you know.  It just gets complicated at times.

I’m blessed with many children, some of whom I’ve known since the day they were born, some who have entered my life through the years.  And now grandkids are arriving; we had a surprise visit from the burrito yesterday, although he’s not so much into swaddling these days.  He’s three months old, awaiting his little cousin, who might arrive sometime in the next week!  The burrito was a happy chappie, until about eight o’clock, but babies have their moments, and this abuela savored all of them.

No longer a tiny guy, but still plenty small enough to cuddle.

No longer a tiny guy, but still plenty small enough to cuddle.

Life is truly good, you know.  It just gets noisy at times.

The burrito seems very taken with the grandchild quilt, or maybe he was laughing at his grandpa.

The burrito seems very taken with the grandchild quilt, or maybe he was laughing at his grandpa.

As I wait for my other grandchild to appear, I’ve been sewing on the Dadland quilt, and that’s been coming along very nicely.  I’m skittish about using cotton to back a quilt, because for whatever reason my basting never seems adequate, but this time I pinned that sucker to within an inch of its Dadland-flag life, and no shifting occurred.  I can’t tell you how pleased I am about that, because not only are puckers to the bare minimum, now I have the confidence to back more quilts with cotton, not flannel, offering a broader choice of designs.  This afternoon I’ll complete the quilting, which has been done in a diagonal manner, and maybe tonight while I watch the Warriors game I’ll even start attaching the binding.  That improv quilt might be ready for the washer soon, at which time I’ll throw in the blankets and burp cloths used by the burrito during his stay.

Using a dependable walking makes quilting so much more enjoyable; I borrowed my daguther's foot, the best I've used, and chalk up the successful quilting to this particular tool.

Using a dependable walking foot makes quilting so much more enjoyable; I borrowed my daughter’s foot, the best I’ve used, and chalk up the successful quilting to this particular tool.

Life is truly good, you know.  It just gets messy at times.

And then there’s The Hawk; part of the reason I made more coffee this morning was I wanted to savor it while reading through the daily three chapters I revise.  Not that I need java to get through edits, but I so enjoy sipping a warm, sweet beverage while I make occasional changes.  I haven’t gone through this novel in its entirety, or what I’ve managed to accrue, in a good while, and it’s been a thrill to reacquaint myself with characters and plot that have been a part of my life before Dad started chemo, prior to grandchildren, like a gateway to a world that is no longer.  The Hawk dates back to October 2013, which in the grand scheme isn’t that long ago, but for me, those months having passed were big stepping stones that now gazing back, I wonder just how I managed to reach this spot today relatively unscathed.  I don’t think it has much to do with drinking coffee, or modern quilting, or even traditional quilting.  I was working on The Hawk even before quilting entered my realm.  And I’ll probably be writing that novel for at least the rest of this year, what with grandkids and quilts in the mix.  But that’s okay, because time away from that tale has whetted my appetite to return to it in whatever amount of words I can muster.

Life is truly good, you know.  It just gets changed up at times.

I’m a blessed woman, more than I can note within an entry on a blog that switches from one tasking to another.  Ten years ago I had no idea all these pastimes were waiting on my doorstep, itching for me to step over the threshold and immerse myself in new landscapes, wide vistas, oh and return to America, to Silicon Valley no less.  Yet here I am, up to my neck in novels and fabrics, grandchildren right on my heels.  And while not everyone I love is within my physical reach, I’m far more aware now than a decade ago of how life works, what it means.  And that is probably the biggest gift of all.

Life is truly good, you know.  It just comes round once, so revel in it at all times.

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4 thoughts on “Meanings of Life

  1. laura bruno lilly

    “Life is truly good, you know. It just gets complicated at times.
    Life is truly good, you know. It just gets changed up at times.”

    Love the refrain…

    fromtheheartpeace

    Reply

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