We were on bikes last month and we were greeted by some men, also on bikes, at an intersection. As we passed Paul asked if they had called me "Baby". He was laughing and not at all indignant (which is a fairly good indication of how our relationship works) and I answered him something like, "No, but I'd rather that than ma'am or whatever-- makes me feel like I've still got something more than awaiting perimenopause going on".
Truth is, I've been feeling okay leaving the house these days-- in part to your lovely comments about style, and knowing that *trying* to feel good about how I look or dress does make a difference. So. Thank you. You make a girl feel all right. And in the spirit of trying, I'm turning it back on my house and its clutter and dust and general claustrophobic inducing pre-winter state. Ikea? I'm coming for you.
We got a new rug there which, after reading Courtney's post about Flor, I'm totally rethinking. At any rate, it's white and since Sam eats a fair amount at his little table in our dining room-turned-playroom he and I both needed something to keep Mrs. Red Sauce McScreamy (me) at bay. The squares are just 4 by 6 1/2" and they were quilted together with batting and brushed canvas. I stayed away from white fabric and I figure the busyness will hide the many, many, many stains that are heading straight for it.
I'm also reworking the kitchen quilt which will be the last thing I make for this house before I turn my sights on Christmas giving and making. Nearly a year later, Sam's kitchen is still a center piece of his play (it also acts as the scene for disastrous car and train crashes), and is a constant reminder of how rad it can be to give and receive handmade gifts.
