A silver anniversary like no other

"One score and five years ago my family brought forth on this backyard, a new tradition, conceived in wiffle ball, and dedicated to the proposition that a little friendly competition is good for the soul."  And so Memory Field was born.

Three times a year, as we welcome summer, revel in it, and bid it goodbye, my family has a grand old picnic on the family reunion scale.  One day, many moons ago, an impromptu wiffle ball game started, and has since become the second main attraction of the day (the first being the food.  Priorities, folks.  Priorities).

And so, I present to you the Rapp Family 2010 Memorial Day Picnic and Wiffle Ball Classic:

 Painted  baselines? Check.  Foul poles? Check.  Distance markers? Check.  Random inoperable water pump? Check.

Choosing teams is a very serious affair...

...followed by the playing of the national anthem.

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The announcers are a more recent addition.  Yes--those are wireless headsets.  Specially purchased.  For this.  

Of course there's a scoreboard...otherwise what's the point?

It was wicked hot yesterday.  I have no idea how they withstood the heat for nine innings.  I usually don't play--it gets very intense out there.  I prefer fun over competition.  Because I'm not athletic and probably wouldn't win anyway.  But there was plenty of other stuff to keep one occupied:

I just can't get enough of the iddle-biddle baby feet on Baby #1.

This photo of Baby #2 and my big brother is for blackmail--he's usually all "Babies--bah!"  But if he could only have seen his own face...

Running a close second to babies is puppies:

 Look at the size of that tongue! Seriously!

Technically these aren't puppies anymore.  I love the little underbite fangs on the dog on the right.  And I just noticed that their leashes match the holiday.

And let's not forget food:

I come from good sturdy carnivorous stock.

 This isn't even all of it...

There was quite a dessert table but I didn't get any pics of it.  Because I was eating and forgot.  There was Oreo cream pie, peach pie, cinnamon coffee cake, homemade brownies and cookies, fresh fruit...and I think I'm forgetting stuff but I don't know what.

I fell into bed last night and don't even remember it--I was fast asleep right away.  Good times.  Hope your weekend was just as fabulous.

Rarin' to go

I confess. I'm not a traveler.  I enjoy a few days here and there, within driving distance, preferably with my family.  But I'm much more content at home, with my things around me right where they belong.  I've been on a plane twice, but only remember once (a few years ago when I went to Vegas--a tale in and of itself).  I have places I'd like to go: Italy, London, Prince Edward Island (for the whole Anne of Green Gables thing), and various places in the Midwest where there used to be a little house on the prairie.  But I'm too much of a ninny to go by myself (plus I don't have a passport--add that to the to-do list). 

In July I have to get on a big scary airplane all by myself and fly to another city for a wedding, all by myself.  I am unspeakably worked up about this.  Ridiculous, I know, but I'm one of those people who's always been satisfied with my placement in this world, and when I have to remove myself from it makes me a bit anxious.  So today I decided I needed a practice trip.  I figure that if I go somewhere by myself I'm reasonably familiar with, I'll be able to deal with the 'by myself' part because I'm not dealing with an unfamiliar place; by the time I go to the unfamiliar place I'll be fine traveling by myself.  I'm curious to see how the flaws in this logic play out.

I don't live very far (less than 2 hours) from the mountain town of Jim Thorpe, an adorable Victorian town nestled in the Pocono mountains.  There are museums, shops, restaurants, and gorgeous scenery.  It may be the most picturesque town ever. So to there I will go (in a few weeks)--I found an adorable bed and breakfast, and I am very excited to get away.  The room I booked is pink and green (my favorite color combination)--it's like it was meant to be! I've had some intense restlessness lately--y'know the kind, where you want to just go someWHERE and do someTHING but you're not really sure of the specifics.  I figure that I have a mean case of cabin fever and spring fever, all rolled up into one, requiring a little get away to hit the reset button on my psyche. 

And last but not least, have a great Memorial Day weekend!  Remember to thank a veteran :)

I reserve the right to not use my time wisely

I think I sewed myself out.  I have no motivation to plug in the ol' girl and get going.  I am very close to the finish line of my to-do list, but I can't get that last boost to officially cross it.  I think I have that feeling Holly Golightly called the "mean reds" but not as severe--maybe more of a pinkish hue.  I felt terribly unproductive at work today, but I know I did things because of all the check-marks on my list.  After work I decided to finish the book I've been reading (I won't be making detective today--totally surprise ending on this one; never would have figured it out in a million years), watch some TV, and call it a day.

So as I'm sitting on the porch on the wicker loveseat, I feel this...vibration and immediately I'm alert and thinking "What in tarnation is under the porch?"  Out of the corner of my eye I see movement--and it's a bird hopping across the floor.  I couldn't tell if it was a baby or hurt, because it couldn't fly.  When I stood up it hopped away more quickly and fluttered a bit and disappeared. Ok, I thought. That's that.  Sit back down. Open the book, and now I'm distracted by about half a dozen birds acting frantic.  They're sitting on the  phone wire and chirping as loud as they can; one flies away and another comes in; two fly away and come back to chat with the others, the whole time just chirping loudly like they're trying to warn all of the birds in the area that there's some danger.

Now, we have five cats. Actually, my neighbor across the street has five cats; they just think they live at our house (and that our house is a brothel).   In the past week we've come across three dead birds either in the yard or on the sidewalk out front.  So now I'm thinking that the cat killed the injured bird and the others are freaking out. So bravely I go inside and look out the front window and see a cat sitting on the front step.  I boldly go and....get my mother and get her to come with me.  The cat runs away, leaving us to discover the injured bird in the window well, petrified (not literally -  but it was so scared its feathers were standing on end) and trying not to move.  My mother managed to get the bird out, and we watched it hop-hop-hop-fall for a few minutes.  Neither of us knew quite what to do.  I tried to get it on a broom so I could lift it into a tree at the very least.  She ended up ushering it into another neighbor's yard that has a lot of shorter trees and shrubs where this bird might hide out until its mother can help it.  So now it's going to really bug me if I leave for work tomorrow and meet this bird after it has shuffled off its mortal coil.  My sisters and I (many years ago) spent so much time helping an injured bird out of a window well when a neighborhood cat on the prowl ran by and took care of it. It was the most traumatic thing ever.  Nature really bugs me in this regard.

But the part that's interesting? How these birds just sat there and chirped and chirped and chirped, like they're telling the injured one "Don't move. Don't blink. He can't get you down there. Just stay where you are.  An overly curious girl lives here and surely she's going to wonder what the noise is about soon.  She's not fond of her neighbor's cats so surely she'll chase it away.  Just stay calm."  So I'm hoping that little guy is safe somewhere for the night, and that the cat found something much more interesting. Somewhere else.

Drinkin' chocolate milk, writin' about bags, droppin' the gees at the end of the words I'm typin'...

It's late, and I'm worn out, so I'm going to just get down to business.  My weekend was made of sewing wedding bags, eating Chinese food, and sewing a beach bag. I had high hopes for more sewing, but lacked the motivation.  I've knocked 2 people off of my to-do list, and have the pieces for one more cut out and ready to sew this week, so I' not completely unhappy with my slow progress.

Anyway, first up are the bridesmaid wedding bags.  This pattern is the same as the wedding bags I did a few weeks ago, but they are all the same color.  I never thought it would be so difficult to find a certain shade of sage green, but it was a pretty intense hunt.  I still don't think I have it nailed completely, but the bride gave the ok and it's definitely close enough.  So here's the bag and an iffy close-up of the button I sewed on:

The satin I used is called 'Shantung Satin' and it has that little bit of  a roughish look that raw silk can sometimes have within its weave. 

I like them. The fabric was fairly easy to work with, and I think I can now officially make this bag in my sleep.  I think I'm going to make a few samples of different style evening bags--this one can get pretty boring, but it uses very little fabric and is easy to do.  It just gets a little m'eh doing the same thing, with the same fabric, one right after the other.  On the other hand, I made all different bags for my sister's wedding and went a bit crazy because each pattern had such different details I couldn't fly through any of them. But when I fly through them I get bored.  I can't get no satisfaction (By the way--it pained me to write that.  Bad grammar eats at my soul).

The next bag (and one I pretty much just finished) is a(nother) beach bag.  I gave the one I made for my hairdresser to her, and she really liked it.  She modeled it, and strutted around the salon with it, and was very excited about it.  One of her co-workers asked if she could have one, but maybe something a little more 'island-y.'  I had bought some fabric for no good reason that I thought would be perfect:

This fabric is so fresh looking you can almost smell tropical flowers.

I adore the way these colors work together.  Here are a few more views:

My hair spray, rolled up medical benefits book, and glasses are supposed to simulate a water bottle, a magazine and some sunglasses.  The pockets are plenty roomy enough.

It's very similar to the skeleton bag, but I had enough fabric to make pockets all around with this one.

So that's it.  Productive weekend as far as weekends go, but not as productive as I had planned.  My goal is to get completely caught up--I don't like having a to-do list.  I'm really flattered that people ask me to make things for them, but sometimes I really just want to pop in a flick and sit on the couch and play Bejeweled.  I have a hard time of finding that happy medium.  I guess when I start to go insane is when it's time to take a break.

Have a happy Monday, world!  Yes, folks--it's almost here already....

Reasons why I like today...

1.  It is Friday.  Duh.

2.  My neck no longer hurts and my head is no longer stuffy.

3.  At the salad bar in our cafeteria they had grape tomatoes and fresh mozzarella cheese--my two favorite things in the world.

4.  At Barnes and Noble the book I wanted was cheaper than I thought.

5.  I really like the sweater I'm wearing.  It's actually a cardigan. It's 85 degrees outside, but my building is cold so I need to layer.

6.  I had to run out to my car for something.  In the elevator I met the chef from the cafeteria bringing a cartful of ice cream and toppings back downstairs (some other department on another floor must have had an ice cream party).  He let me score a bowl.  There was no time to even consider the diet--I had to act fast.  What's better than surprise ice cream on a sunny Friday?

Check out the nifty crocheted sundae I found via Google Images.  I'm not sure what flavor is yellow though...I'll pretend it's butterscotch topping.

Shh! Listen....d'you smell something?

"Smell is often called the sense tied most closely to human memory, profoundly influencing people’s ability to recall past events and experiences."  I argued this with a colleague at work; they were all "No no, it's definitely sight" and I was all "You're totally wrong" and they were all "How often do you say 'I know I've seen that before but just can't place where?'" and I was all "How often do you smell something and say 'Mmmm...that takes me back to such and such a place'?"  Since more people agreed with me I got the win. It was a very scientific debate.

Anyway, I had a killer sinus infection this week.  And while doing something before bed to hopefully alleviate my congestion, I was taken back about 25 years, as I am every time...

Now I know that some people (my mother included) think this stuff is the grossest of the gross.  I, however, find it to be a most soothing scent. My mother, apparently overcoming her repulsion, used to rub this on our chests before bed when we were little and had colds.  It would have been after our baths and nighttime snacks, and just before getting tucked in.  This smell takes me back to a time of contentment and coziness, of when Mom could make the world seem right. I don't think it has any medicinal quality to it, but when I have a cold I use it anyway, just to briefly delude myself that I don't have to worry about adult things.

Here's a few more "time travel" scents I thought of...

~ Sauerkraut - I hate the smell of this.  My mom makes it once a year, on New Year's Day, because my father (being of German descent) grew up with this as a New Year's staple.  Though I can't stand the stuff, there's something about that first punch in the face of its aroma that just screams Mummers and the winding down of the holiday season.

~ Lever 2000 soap - there was a boy in my seventh grade class who I may have had a slight crush on, who always smelled like this soap.  When I catch a whiff now I'm in Ms. White's biology class, sharing my notes and trying my best (geeky, pubescent nerd that I was) to act coy and flirty.

~ Wind Song perfume - my mom's favorite perfume when we were growing up.  She only wore it on special occasions, occasions that necessitated dressing up.  Now? My legs get chilly as I remember wearing pantyhose and patent leather shoes, going wherever we were headed for whatever was happening.

~ Sawdust - my dad's work room in the basement.  He fiddled around here and there with woodworking, and still does.  I hated the sound of his saws and drills, but I loved the smell of cut wood wafting up the stairs.  For some reason I associate this with winter Saturday afternoons (probably because in the summer he worked outside mostly, and the weekends were the only free time he had).

****

Ok, back to the present.  I didn't get any sewing done this week beyond mending some things--and even that was a chore.  I felt like the Rockettes moved into my face and were practicing 24/7.  But now I've got the all clear and have a mega-sewing weekend planned (because now I'm waaaaaay behind).  Hopefully I'll have some baggy eye candy to share in a few days...

Welcome to the world!

Did you ever watch Extreme Makeover Home Edition wherein the loud host guy locks himself in a room for the week and builds some elaborate shelving unit as his "special project?"  That's how I feel like this weekend was for me, but without being locked away and by creating something more interesting than a shelving unit.

Lately I've been making custom order bags for other people, so it's been a lot of the same few patterns.  I needed to make something different for sanity's sake, so this weekend I decided was the time for me to design something original.  I gathered some rulers and a protractor (ok, I actually had to go buy the protractor), some big sheets of paper, flipped on USA Network for the Friday night NCIS marathon, and set to work.  I had angles, curves, all kinds of things happening.  And when I was done I had the pieces of my first original pattern. 

Someone's been practicing her picture editing skills...

The hardest part to get just right on the pattern and when sewing it together was that curvy band at the top.  And it wasn't even super-difficult.  A year ago I might have had nightmares over it but not today!  I love the colors of the fabrics; fun, but subtle enough for every-day use.  My mom went fabric shopping with me one night and she picked these out.  I had bought the antique brass d-rings some time ago and haven't had a need for them until this.  They seem to really belong to the bag.  The only thing that I'm not entirely crazy about is the zipper (not the one on the inside--I can do those in my sleep now).  It went in fine, looks ok, but I'm slightly off on a measurement so it feels a little bit jammed in there.  Doesn't really affect the bag in any way, but it's just enough to irk me a little, especially because the rest came out so nice.  If the rest looked like rot I wouldn't mind so much, lol.  But if the rest of the bag looked bad the zipper would be perfect--that's my luck.  The construction of the bag itself was pretty simple--the devil was in the details--but I now have a bit more confidence to try and design another original.  When I told my nephew that this was the only bag in the world like it he said "You should keep it then.  When there's only one thing in the world it's usually worth a lot of money."  I wish I had this kid's insight when I was eight.

And lest you think I worked in a cave all weekend--here's some proof that I did indeed go outside:

My canine nephew Jefferson, mid-stride.

The first hydrangea bloom--we've been waiting for you! 

Tickled Pink

I love pink. I used to hate it. It reminded me of pajamas and grandmothers.  I think I thought I was supposed to like it because I'm a girl, so I rebelled by not wearing pink all through high school.  This is also the most rebellious thing I've ever done.  And it wasn't even really rebellious, because it's not as though someone was standing there each morning yelling and trying to force me to wear pink.  So I get excited when people ask me to make things for them that are pink. I have an aunt who told me once that I need to make more things in taupe. I promptly responded "What the hell is taupe?"  I know exactly what it is; I just like to be difficult.  Read on and you'll see why I think she might need more pink :)   ANYway, I did a lot of pink sewing this week.  I finished the diaper bag, and it's super cute:

These fabrics may look familiar; they're from Joann's.

Normally I would have done the straps in pink, but the request was for them to be in brown.  The rick-rack around the top (the wavy stuff) is hiding an itty-bitty boo-boo; my machine got hungry and distressed the fabric nicely in one spot, so this is covering it up.  I bought this stuff on a whim, with that feeling that it might come in handy one day.  The other option was to take the entire thing apart stitch by stitch and redo half of it.  I think the choice is obvious.  This bag is super-filled with pockets.  There's a pocket in the middle on the front of the bag, and elasticized pockets on the side:

 

Perfectly sized to hold a baby bottle (or some body spray, as in this case).

On the inside, one side has plain flat pockets; the other side has nifty bottle pockets with elastic tops.  I like the little ruffly effect the elastic has.

It's just such a happy, cheery bag without being totally babyish.  I like the cutesy baby stuff, but some people really don't want to carry something that screams baby.  I don't know why--it's not like it's a secret you have a baby; if you're carrying a diaper bag I assume you've got the baby with you as well.

And now, with the glue busily drying in the other room is my new case for my iPod:

 

I like how it looks a bit like a fish with a huge mouth.

I've been searching for a screen protector for it but they're stupid expensive, so I figured this was a good enough alternative for now.  Plus I'm completely enamored with (or is it by?) that outer fabric.

And just in case that wasn't enough pink for you, here's a little bit more (file it away under 'stuff I'll never need to know but will read anyway because I've come this far so why not?'): 

* Pink is the color of happiness.

* Brighter pinks are youthful, fun and exciting while vibrant pinks have the same high energy as red.  They are sensual and passionate with being too aggressive.

* For women who are often overworked and overburdened, an attraction to pink may speak to a desire for the more carefree days of childhood.

* Pink can encourage action and confidence.

* Pastries taste better when they come out of pink boxes or are served on pink plates.  It only works with sweets--pink makes us crave sugar.

So maybe I should have worn more pink.....

I'm off to look for free photo-editing software.  If I can't take a good picture I can at least make you think I can.

**UPDATE:  You can do some PhotoShop editing for free online--I can already tell it's going to be better than what I'm currently doing.  It's a bit more idiot-proof--always a good thing.  Flickr does it as well, but it's not as easy to do.  I haven't tried the Google one yet (Picasa)--I'm satisfied so why bother?**

Glogged dup dose

Ick. I can't tell if I'm getting a cold or if suddenly I have allergies, but I have that sinus headache-sore throat-back drip thing going on and it's making me feel miserable. I remember being younger and not minding getting sick because it meant there was a chance I could stay home from school.  Now I find myself thinking "No!! I can't stay home. I have this report, and that report, and whatever else on my desk!"  Stupid adulthood.

Anyway, I'm almost done the diaper bag.  Apparently when the Kwik Sew pattern company came up with their name they didn't mean it literally.  I'm tired of working on it--sooo ready to be done. I think I have sewing ADD.  I never get tired of sewing but I always look forward to what's next.  I was doing a bit of whining to my mother today via email that I wanted to be all caught up on my order list so I could sew up the bags that are existing in my head.  I don't mind the extra money from custom orders, but it's pretty much pocket change right now; I'd like to invest some creative energy in some unique products.  Here's a snippet of the actual convo:

Me:  "I just haven't been able to make anything original lately with my new fabrics and I'm afraid all of my ideas will just start falling out of my head. "  (I feel it is necessary for me to state that I'm usually not this whiny).

My Mumsy:  "You should make a large pocket that goes all around you to catch the good ideas when they fall out. Always think creative."  (I do come by my goofball-ishness honestly).

Me:  "Oooo, that would be a great way to use up my scraps."

My Mumsy:  "To quote the A-Team, I love it when a plan comes together."

Me:  "That is why you are awesome.  My mother quoted the A-Team and made my day in one simple statement."

My Mumsy:  "I'm old.  I know things."

Normally when we go off on a movie quote tear around here she has no idea what we're talking about (especially if it's something like Napoleon Dynamite). The fact that she pulled this one out of her hat amused me greatly, since I don't when was the last time she watched that show.  And then she tied it into sewing.  Love. That. Woman.  And if you know her, not only do you love her too, but you're not doubting that this was a real conversation.

My phone rang during a department meeting once; I felt totally bad-ass. Because the theme song is my ring tone.

Insert creative title here (because I just can't think of one today)

First off, Happy Mother's Day (almost belatedly) to anyone blessed enough to be one.

I didn't get much sewing done this weekend because I'm in the middle of a very addictive book and it calls to me louder than my sewing machine does.  I've got about half of the diaper bag finished, though; she's coming up adorable, I can tell you that. 

So, aside from reading and some sewing (and planting flowers, and watching an NCIS marathon), we went to my sister's house for dinner.  She wanted to have everyone over for dinner for Mother's Day. It was a nice time--we played a little Wii, had some chicken and pasta yumminess, and played a few rounds of Catchphrase (if you've never played--go and get it right now. I'm serious. Stop reading and go.  It's that much fun).  But perhaps the most interesting part of the day was getting to meet this little guy:

He started off a little camera shy....

Decided to pose for a cutesie upside-down shot...

Took care of guy business (sorry--couldn't resist this one.  Such a boy)...

And gave me this look approximately 2.73 seconds before curling up and falling asleep.

His name is Jefferson, and he's an eight-week old Rhodesian Ridgeback  (if you look just above you can see the ridge--it's a line of hair/fur/whatever you call it on a dog that grows in the opposite direction).  He enjoys playing with his friend Franklin (a stuffed frog), snuggling, and trying to eat my shoe.  My sister and her husband brought him home yesterday.  I am currently drawing up schematics to pull off the Great Heist of 2010 wherein this little guy comes to live with ME.

And finally...did you ever make cupcakes and wonder how they would turn out if you didn't put them in the cupcake baking pan but just put the batter in those little papers and popped them in the oven?  Or did you ever just forget to put them IN the cupcake pan?  Or...did you ever not KNOW there was a specific pan for cupcakes?  I'm not naming names, but there's a chance one of the above three scenarious occurred...  I'll leave you to decide which one, but here's a picture:

It's what's on the inside that counts :)

Apparently you can get squares, stars, and other surprise shapes (but not the traditional cupcake shape).  I'm happy to report that I sampled several of these and they all tasted marvelous anyway. 

I'm off to have some tea and read a bit before I head to bed and start another stinkin' workweek.  Stupid day job ruining my free time...

el Día de los Muertos para el Cinco de Mayo

There's some Spanish free-styling for your reading pleasure.  You're welcome.

I'm not celebrating this holiday--why would I?  I'm not of Hispanic heritage.  "But Bethany," I can hear some of you saying--"isn't that culturally insensitive?"  To which I say nay.  It's not like I expect  people of non-Italian heritage to join me in celebrating Columbus Day, wherein I place three small boats on my front lawn and pretend I'm sailing the ocean blue. Haha--I don't do that either.  I'm only half-Italian so that would be weird....

Also--I haven't been dabbling in halucinogenic substances.  Thank you for your concern, but I'm just introducing my next bag the long way.

Before I reveal, I ask you this:  do you remember those days in middle/high school where the worst thing that could happen to you was that you had to give an oral report, and your stomach would be twisty and turny from the night before up until class was over and all was right with the world again?  Take that down a notch, and you'll understand how I felt about this particular bag.  Well, the fabric, actually.  A lady I work with asked me to make a large tote bag for her daughter in law who will be graduating from college soon.  Since she will be an x-ray technician, she wanted something in a skeletal design, and she chose one with a Mexican flair as she also enjoys Mexican cuisine and travel.  Now, this is totally not my cup of tea. I like florals, and bright colors, and things that are fun or sweet or a little bit nutty.  This fabric is so far out of my element that I actually had a wee bit of dread cutting into it because it just didn't look fun.  Here's what I'm talking about:

Alexander Henry's "Fiesta de los Muertos" fabric

I decided to change up this bag a little bit to keep my mind on the details of the bag and off the details of the fabric.  I think I made an odd fabric into a pretty adorable bag:

Ay, dios mio! Es adorable!

Instead of just sewing some pieces together like I normally do for a plain tote I added a few pockets with some binding at the top and bottom.  I watched a tutorial on pocket placement for these kinds of bags so I could get it just right, and I put a stabilizer in the bottom to prevent sagging (I wish they had a stabilizer that would work on MY bottom like that. Tee-hee).  I actually had fun putting together this bag and I think it came out pretty cute--MUCH cuter than I ever would have anticipated.  I think the yellow adds some much needed zing to it.  I didn't have enough fabric to do both sides, so I just did the front.  I think this is how I'm going to do my totes from now on (unless someone requests otherwise), but with pockets all around.  It just adds an extra little something.  Here's one more view of it because we both know you just haven't had enough yet:

  

 Delantero completo (very loose translation: 'full frontal').  I'm bilingually witty.

I warned her yesterday that she would have it today, and she told me at lunch that she was so excited to get it that she had trouble falling asleep thinking about it.  And she was in LOVE with it.  Office grapevine sent me word that she talked about it for a few hours she was so happy with it.  Now that's mariachi to my ears.

And just in case you're curious, 'Dia de los Muertos' (the Day of the Dead) is a Latin American holiday that occurs on November 2nd and is a day of remembrance for those who have passed on; it's not a day of mourning, but a day of celebration, honoring the memories of those that have gone before us.  Cinco de Mayo is a Mexican-American holiday in celebration of an unlikely Mexican defeat over the French in 1862.  A Spanish lesson, art, and history all rolled into one blog entry.  What more could you ask for?

And I've got an uber-cute diaper bag in the works.  Hopefully pics this weekend.  Unless I commit an untold amount of blunders, which wouldn't be unheard of.  But you're going to spontaneously ovulate when you see it since it's going to make you want a baby just so you can carry this.  I should stop jinxing myself...

How many old are you?

I had another one of those things called birthdays on Saturday. I am officially a grown-up now.  Yeah, right.  In theory I've been an adult for a long time. In actuality, I will never grow up.  I wish someone would tell my body that, though.  My neck is still kinky (and not in a good way, wink-wink) since I pulled it a few weeks ago.  And my right knee talks to me when I run up the steps (I don't know what it's saying though, since it's speaking in one of those click-click languages from Africa I read about in college).  And instead of letting me get excited about ice cream my hips say whacky things like "one lick for the left hip, one for the right."

BUT it was still a good birthday, as they all are.  One of my sisters gave me a book and CD I've been wanting, and I dove right in.  My other sister gave me a stack of fat quarters and some micro-tip scissors so I can snip off my threads instead of leaving little danglers because I can't get close enough with my thick-tipped ones. My brother gave me a gift certificate to a yummo fabric shop.  And my parents gave me an iPod.  Now, I do realize that iPods have been around since Moby Dick was a minnow (give or take a year) but I rebel against technology.  I didn't NEED a digital camera; I didn't NEED an iPod; and so I always blew them off as gift options. But then I realized--I WANTED those things.  And now that I have them I wonder what was wrong with me? Seriously.  (As a side note: I still have my Discman. And my Walkman. Just in case cassettes make a comeback. I don't think my nephew even knows what they are. Sigh).

If you're wondering where I'm headed with this, I'm headed nowhere.  Just letting you know that according to God's clock I'm another year older on the dark side of thirty, I'm not married and I have no kids (in contrast to plans I made when I was 13 to have all that by the age of 26).  I never would have thought I'd be cool with all that (or without all that).  But I so am.  And realizing that made it a happier birthday.

And because a blog post should have a picture, here's one of a delicious looking patchwork birthday cake.  I wonder how many calories drooling burns?

I'm kind of wanting to make an actual quilt that looks like this.

Thanks for putting up with the ramblings of an old lady.  I wonder if you've guessed by now that I'm avoiding doing my prep work for the next bag...

And if the title left you curious, that's how my nephew used to say "How old are you?" when he was three-ish.  I'd take those days back in a second. Not because I'd be younger, but because he wouldn't be smart enough to figure out how old I'll be when he's 15, 20, etc. and then laugh while he tells me.  Little wiseguy...