And It Was Sew

Day 1. It didn't start out too well. I got behind an accident and it took me 1 3/4 hours to go 4 miles. Then just when the traffic broke, 2 a-holes had road rage right in front of me. Narrowly escaped that one. But when I finally got to Georgia, I got to see cotton fields in bloom. Now the history of cotton fields doesn't make me happy, but the look of them does! I waver between huge popcorn and quilt fabric on the hoof! It just is too funny a plant. I mean who dreamed up a plant that explodes with a wonderful fiber? Shortly after cotton, we got Solar Ranch. Acres and acres of solar panels. Have no idea where the energy is going, but there was a lot being generated. I got to just south of Macon.

Day 2 wasn’t so great either. When I was packing up my hotel room, I packed up my “make-up” case and left it on the counter in the bathroom. I carefully left the light on so that I would remember to pack it in the car. Before I tell you that this plan didn’t work, which you already knew because there wouldn’t be a story otherwise, I want to assure you that this is still me and I haven’t started wearing makeup. The case holds my shampoo etc. Usually I keep my medications in there as well, but for some reason I had them in a separate place this time. Anyway, I left the case. With the light on. Sigh. I didn’t realize I had done this until I was a day’s drive away. Not cute enough. There was no way I had time to drive back to Georgia and still make it on time for my classes, so there were frantic calls to the hotel. They had found the case and it had been turned in. Now, getting the case back to me is too long a story and fraught with idiots and mis-communications. Just know that the case finally reached me while I was in California with Barbara (weeks from this time) by way of Philadelphia.

I am in my hotel in Ohio. I am hysterical. That f**king Ian is landing on my house and I am not there to tell it to go away. I am hysterical. Nothing to say about my travels. I am hysterical. I still don't know if I will ever get my case back. I am hysterical.

My house is dry inside. I have no mango trees left. My house is dry inside. I have discovered the meaning of the word RELIEF. My house is dry inside. My pool cage is badly damaged. My house is dry inside. I feel like I have won the lottery. My house is dry inside. Thank you to everyone who worried about me. I truly and deeply appreciate your thoughts...and prayers...So relieved. No longer hysterical. Everything broken is replaceable.
The class I took today in Ohio was wonderful. Learned so much.

Finished my classes and headed out to Elgin, Illinois where Pat and Kathy Nelson live. Pat is a friend from high school and we haven’t seen each other since 1966. One might wonder why I would want to visit a friend I hadn’t seen in so long, except Pat was one the people that my mother taught to play bridge, so there is a special connection there. He and Kathy play bridge still, but mostly with just friends. It is always a little scary to see a friend from so long ago and to meet the spouse. There was no need to worry. Pat and I have been sparring on Facebook, so we had been in touch and it was like no time had passed. Kathy turned out to be a total delight. I was silly to have worried about any of that. I have found that my closest friends from high school and college have weathered the test of time. The reasons we were friends then still hold true today.

What a wonderful day this turned out to be. There was more time with Pat and Kathy, but I also met up with a former student of mine from Brandeis, Gail Brassard. Yet another person with whom the passage of time meant nothing. The only difference was that we came together for lunch as adults with histories to exchange. I didn’t want lunch to end. Gail has had a wonderful career and I am so proud that she is another student who has surpassed the teacher. There were two magic moments. The first was when she told me that I had said something to her that had kept her going through all the ups and downs one has being a costume designer. I have no memory of the exchange, but it was obviously the correct seed to plant. The second was when she gave me one of her costume sketches. Aside from being beautifully rendered, it came with a story complaining about the pattern maker who couldn’t figure out the circle ruffles, the implication being that she knew I wouldn’t have had a problem with executing the design. And it does look like it would have been fun to pattern. I love the sketch. It has been a very long time since I had a new sketch to add to my collection.

I'm in my beloved Rockies. Tonight I have dinner with Patti Cindric and Carl's family. Tomorrow I set off on my twisty-turny road through the mountains. I love mountain driving and it has been so long since I have done any of it. I will take pictures! Barbara Hartman-Jenichen said it best, "My heart lives in Colorado.”

I knew that I loved the Rockies, but yesterday reminded me why. When I left Patti Cindric and Carl's it was very foggy. The minute I crossed the foothills, the sun broke through and it was glorious weather. At this time of year, aspen leaves are a yellow that shouldn't be allowed in Nature, but is. Stands of aspen nestled in the deep green of the pines is magic. The carefully groomed slopes of rich and famous ski slopes gave way to towering rugged cliffs. The highway ran along the river that had carved them. After that movie, the mountains became mesas and I entered what used to be the inland sea that covered most of what is now the West. Too bad I didn't become a geologist, so I could wax knowingly about the rock formations. But even to the layman, one can see that the road was on the bottom of a sea that once was. Landed in a small town in Utah, after having passed on the HIlton in some podunk town of 200 people that wanted over $350 a night. I told them no, that wasn't NYC. On to Boise today.

I am tucked into the ever so comfy guest room at Becky and Tom Wynne's home. This is the furthest north and west that my trip will take me. Two things about today. OK, maybe three. Firstly I am once again terribly disappointed that I didn't study geology. There are things happening on this planet that never cease to amaze. I could barely watch the road during the drive through the Columbia River Gorge. I am getting a book when I get home. Inquiring mind is not enough. I need to know what caused all this and what it is! Secondly, there are times when it is a moral imperative to have an active imagination. Part of my drive today was on twisty mountain roads, even twistier than in the Rockies. This was not a road to drive with an old Toyota Camry sedan. This was a road for a low slung super sporty car that hugged to road during each turn taken at high speed. I also had to imagine that I could get in and out of a car like that. Thirdly, wow! I have been impressed how many windmills have cropped up across the country. But that pales in comparison to seeing one of the blades up close and personal. I passed three of them today. They are immense. They were EACH being transported on an extra long bed of a semi and still hung over the end! I knew they were large, but I didn't have a real understanding of the size until they were 20 feet from me! Oh, one more thing. I have seen many freight trains. Thank you. Each car on a train is one less truck I have to pass on the road. One exceptionally long train going through a mountain pass had FOUR engines up front and TWO more at the back where normally a caboose would be. I am exhausted, but very glad I am doing this trip. And last, but not least, it warms the very bottom of my heart to hug Becky once again tightly in my arms.

In Portland. I'm cold. They are laughing at me for wearing my jacket in the house. Very rude. I don't laugh at them when they come to Florida and want to wear nothing. But enough of that. Portland is YOUNG! I forget that the rest of the world has an abundance of young people. Toto, we ain't in Florida anymore. You cannot live in Portland if you are technically challenged. There is an app for parking on the street. (Do you get a bill? Do they just take the money? Inquiring mind time again.) The restaurant we went to last night had NO menus. There was a little card on the table with one of those squares with all the black and white pixels. You scanned that into you phone and got the menu. God help you if you don't see small print. That being said, I had the most wonderful butternut squash ravioli, lightly spiced in what I think was nutmeg, in an oil and garlic sauce. I embarrassed myself with moaning and drooling at the table. BTW, Tom Wynne and Becky's house and garage "sense" when they are near and automatically unlock. Isn't there a song for that? Oh, right, "...close to you…"

Okay, Peeps, I know I have been quiet for a couple of days, but I am going to start with a rant anyway...just so you'll know it is me.
If you have NO ONE in front of you and you look in the rear view mirror and see a line of cars BEHIND you, you are officially "slower traffic." If given even the slightest opportunity to pull over on those twisty mountain roads to let others pass you, for everyone's sake JUST DO IT. What promised to be a lovely fun mountain drive today put me behind a car from NY that had not one clue on how to handle a curve. Instead of being able to enjoy the road and the turns and the twists and the scenery, I had to watch the back end of his car to see when he was going to brake, which was usually at the exactly wrong time. Eventually I did get to pass him and you should all be proud of me because I did not flip him off! And that is the language that New Yorker's understand. After that episode, I got to enjoy the Redwood Forests. After the Rockies, these coastal mountain could seem to be a little bit of a letdown, but it isn't so. The Eisenhower tunnel was at 11,000 feet and change. The pass today was at 2,000 feet, BUT these mountains were covered in Redwood trees. The mountains towered in the Rockies, the trees tower in Redwood forests. The canopy is so high and so dense, it has been centuries since the forest floor has seen any light to speak of. The ferns and the moss thrive, but not much else. Because the trees are so breathtaking, one doesn't care that there is not much to look at on the ground. There were some heartbreaking vistas where the fires had burned through the trees, but many still stand and the burned ones will come back. Google how they do that and be amazed. Gotta go play bridge for the first time in weeks. Been going through serious withdrawal…

Redwoods. Majestic. Sublime. Imposing. Fine, but there are some other things to be said. Firstly, and foremost, is that this is a species that doesn't understand the meaning of "Circle of Life." Anything that is holding on to existence for centuries, doesn't get the whole die and recycle thing. Next, they defy gravity with that kind of height. Finally, they refuse to be photographed in any meaningful way that will truly impart their essence. Ansel Adams got as close as anyone, as he did with most things he photographed, but it still is not the same as being under them. It was foggy this morning and while driving there was one shot that came close to portraying the experience. The 2 lane highway went down straight ahead of me and the giants coming out of the mist framed the road up to the sky. But I was driving and there was no place to pull over, so that image will only live in my mind. Lucky me. I am at Barbara Hartman-Jenichen's. We have already laughed ourselves silly about the adventures we have been on. Tomorrow we will begin new ones.

After leaving Needles and the sunrise, I headed to Flagstaff. We went from desert to piney wood forests and they were beautiful. Flagstaff turned out to be sold out or too expensive, So I pushed on to Winslow. I found a nice cheap motel there and settled in for the night. When I left the next morning, I ran into rain. I hadn’t had to drive in rain for the whole trip, but my luck ran out. Oh well. When I got to Albuquerque, I was surprised. Steven and I had been at the Fiery Foods Festival there some years ago, but I had either forgotten the terrain or ignored it. On the east side of town, a ridge of mountains rises up out of nowhere and I do mean nowhere. Forget foothills or anything approaching foothills. Just BAM! Mountain! This is pretty unusual, except it didn’t stop there. Once I got to the other side of the ridge, BAM! It stopped. No foothills or introduction to ridge on that side as well. Are you getting bored of me saying I need a geology book? After Albuquerque, my trusty phone map turned me onto Highway 285. This turned out to be a sweet drive. It was a 4 lane divided highway with virtually NO semi’s!! After playing Parchesi with semi’s for the last 2 days, this was a welcome relief. We did have to slow down as we went through towns, but that turned out to be interesting. I stopped for the night in a town called Vaughn, population 446…maybe. That was the 2010 census. After some jockeying around I ended up in the Desert Inn Motel. It was all adobe and classic looking from the outside. It was classic, which means the room was tiny. It was classic which means the room was old. What the surprise was that it was very clean, to the point of being spotless. Nice surprise! Woke up in the morning to SNOW.

Dear readers, it seems as if I have messed up my travel narrative. Before I got to Needles, I got to go through the Mojave desert. Bet you didn't even notice. Anyway, I had called Barbara Hartman-Jenichen from somewhere on the road before that and she was lamenting that the drought was endangering the Joshua trees in the Mojave. (I pretended that I knew what those were because I hate admitting to Barb that my education is lacking somewhere.) She explained that they only existed in the Mojave and nowhere else on earth. She would know because she spent 6 weeks at Edwards AFB filming "The Right Stuff" and learned about the desert while there. I kept driving hoping that I would see a Joshua tree and know what it was. Guess what? You can't miss them. They are not like any other tree. In fact, they are a tree trying to be a cactus. Or maybe they are a cactus trying to be a tree. Now, I need botany books as well as geology. Sigh. The thing that really fascinated me, other than the WTF appearance, was that these trees are fiercely independent. While most trees grow in groves, Joshua trees are widely separated. It is almost like they have staked out a claim to the water that falls near them and doesn't want anyone else to encroach on their water rights. Now, I get to spend a night in my car and get to Needles the next day.

I sort of feel like I am having to play catch up. Too many sights. Too many adventures. And today was no different. I left the Desert Inn motel and headed right for Penny’s Diner. It was a classic diner, all chrome and rounded. Remember it was snowing. I walked in and remarked that it was snowing. The surly waitress commented a welcome to New Mexico. I tried again by saying I was from Florida, but to no avail. She was determined to be surly. She gave me a menu and wandered away. Eventually she came back and asked if I was ready to order. I gave her my order and asked for water and orange juice. She wandered away and then started talking to the cook. After about five minutes of no water and no o.j. I got up and walked out. And, no, the cook had not started on my breakfast. It was a long drive to the next town, but since it was Roswell, I figured that if I couldn’t get breakfast, maybe I could be abducted. Either would make for a good story, though the abduction would have been more fun. Breakfast would just mean that I would stop being cranky. I got breakfast. It was still raining and as I drove out of town, a huge, bright rainbow arced across the sky. My phone map put me on a two lane highway, but it wasn’t too bad to drive. There were still a scarcity of semi’s. It has been many years since I was in Big Sky Country. I have been giving Florida credit for having a Big Sky. I was wrong. Florida has big sky. My drive from Roswell to Texas was all Big Sky. The clouds were heavy with rain and hung low in the sky. You could see the patches of rain falling. I think that the sky seems so endless because there is nothing to break up the view. The clouds had sky above them, so there were layers in the vastness. It was visually entertaining.

One thing that I don’t need a book about is oil wells. We had so many of them in Texas that they sucked the earth dry, but that is not the point of my story. As I am not sure that those of you who didn’t grow up in Texas would know, those tall metal towers that are featured in films like “Giant,” are for drilling. Once the well is dug, the pumps take over. Do you remember those huge machines on legs from “Star Wars?” The good guys ended up flying cables around the legs to make them topple over. Well (no pun intended), the pumping stations look like a cross between those machines and a grasshopper. They continue to dot the landscape of West Texas, though most of them stand still, rusting, remembering the days of seemingly endless oil. Because of the massive changes in my route, I ended up going through Big Spring. Too many of my formative years were spent there and I had mixed feelings about going. I shouldn’t have worried. I recognized the veteran’s hospital, the state hospital, parts of the high school, parts of the junior high, and parts of Howard County Junior College. The rest of it was totally foreign. It has been well over 50 years since I was there and nothing was the same except for the aforementioned. I sort of felt sorry for the town. It had gotten older, but not better. I drove on through to Sterling, Texas, where I had my adventure with the password. And we are now all caught up to date. On to New Braunfels tomorrow.

Just a quick note. Welcome to West Texas. Couldn't get on to the wi-fi at my motel. Entered the password: St3rling at least 10 times. Restarted my machine twice. Called the front desk. They said everything was fine on their end. Woman came over to watch me try to log on. Showed her the password as I entered it. She didn't understand the problem. Finally a guy showed up. I showed him the slip of paper that I was given with the password. He looked at it and said, "Everyone knows it should all be lower case." I pointed out that the S on the paper was a capitol. He reiterated his stance. I gave up. I am now on wi-fi with all lower case letters. Remember that I left here as soon as I could.

The idiot at the Sterling Motel made the mistake of asking me about my visit. I tore into him again about the password, at which point he said I should have tired other things with the password, completely negating the point of a password. I told him he was wrong and left. It has been a long time since I ran into a man who refused to admit a mistake. All of you men who are reading this, I congratulate you on being more evolved than the Good Ole Boy in West Texas. I found a little hole in the wall for breakfast. Once again looking for a return to West Texas roots. The breakfast was delicious in a West Texas sort of way. The scrambled eggs were pancake like and my only choice of bread was white. Why did I even ask? But the coffee was drinkable and the meal was filling, so I can’t really complain. On the road again I remembered mesquite. Miles and miles of mesquite. One would have thought that they were vines in the Napa valley, or at least wannabes. That was how endless they were. Remember the redwoods? These weren’t them. Mesquite are what can only be described, and generously at that, as scrubby. Remember the ferns that covered the forest floor under the redwoods? These weren’t them. Under the mesquite were low growing, and essentially sad, prickly pears. This kind of cactus does grow in Florida. They get tall and plump and full of fruit. These weren’t them. I will have to give mesquite one thing: when they bud out in the Spring, the color of the leaves is the most magnificent chartruese. But like most color in West Texas, it fades quickly and turns into a flat sort of browny green. Around about Eden, Texas, the desert turned into rolling hills and I entered what is known as Hill Country. The mesquite made room for other trees, which were less scrubby and taller, and by taller, I mean around about 10-15 feet tall. I’m still comparing them to redwoods. Admittedly an unfair comparison. There is a certain rhythm to the rolling hills which make it understandable why this area is so popular. Marie, my friend Marion’s, sister welcomed me to her home with open arms. We await the arrival of Marion and Susan, her wife. Tonight we are going for Texas barbecue. Yes. I have missed Texas barbecue. Tomorrow I will talk them into Tex-Mex. Why else come to Texas?

Finally arrived in Houston. The last stop on my odyssey. I spent several wonderful days with Marion, Marie, and Susan. The barbecue was wonderful and I had chicken enchiladas with mole sauce as my Tex-Mex dinner. It too was very tasty. The wonderful guest room at Marie’s was all charming and cozy. The ceiling was a herringbone pattern in wood. It used to be her late husband’s guitar studio and the vibrations of music still hung in the air. There was another room in the guest cottage. It was a living room with a day bed. Marie is decorating for her Halloween party, so “Boris,” a very dead and very ugly mummy was in residence in the bed. I did get a shock a couple of times when I forgot he was there, but we eventually settled into a comfortable relationship. The girls spent most of our time talking and laughing and crying. Two afternoons were perfect weather and we sat out on the front porch and loved Texas in the Fall. I should have stayed another day, as the drive to Houston turned into a nightmare. Torrential rain and several accidents turned the 3 hour drive into 6 hours. Granted, for 1 hour I pulled into a parking lot and waited for the rain to become manageable. That was a fool’s errand. Once back on the road, I drove straight back into the storm. (Not cute enough) I drove on a toll road without the requisite tag, so I am waiting for the police to arrive and arrest me. That concern aside, I arrived at Cousin Claire  and Tom’s house in one piece and very much the worse for wear. This saga is starting to wear on me and I am anxious to be on the road home. First I have to take classes and see quilts that intimidate at the quilt festival. Tomorrow I fill in some missing supplies for my classes and rest.

What’s a girl to do? Marjorie is in Philadelphia. Claire is in Houston. Luckily I don’t care even a little bit about baseball. Did you know that pitchers don’t have to bat anymore? And that there are thousands of them? Glad I don’t care, ‘cause that would upset me.

Hum. Houston. While safely housed in Claire and Tom’s beautiful home, life has been sweet. Unfortunately, I ventured out today farther than the grocery store. I needed to pick Susan up at the airport. Pearland is way down here and Bush Intercontinental is way up there. I went to the Convention Center to pick up our badges and reserve a scooter. The George G. Brown Center has 1.8 million square feet. This is huge. It is the length of several football fields. I had to walk at least 1 1/2 football fields to get to registration and another 200 feet to get to the scooter place. Luckily I had my walker with me. It was at this point that my luck ran out. Susan’s plane was 30 minutes late to start with. I had plenty of time to get to the airport and the cell phone lot, and now I had even more time. I was productive and went through the program and circled all the vendors I want to see…then I played some games on my phone…and then Susan arrived. As I was tired of sitting around the cell phone lot, I decided to get a jump on picking Susan up and I left the lot. You know all those signs at the front of an airport that tell you what terminal to go to, well, they happened before the cell phone lot, so I entered the airport clueless. I finally pulled into a loading area and asked the attendant where SouthWest was and he shook his head and give me instructions that pretty much took me out of the airport and back in again. I finally got to the right place to pick her up and she called and said that her luggage didn’t make it to Houston. After that was dealt with, we left the airport and pulled into a gas station to fill the tank. That was done without a problem, but when I tried to start the car, it only clicked and didn’t start. An hour, $85, and a mechanic later, he gave us a jump and off we went to get back to Pearland, way down there. Neither one of us had eaten, so we looked for someplace to eat and realized that it had to be a drive through because we couldn’t risk turning the car off until we were home. Taco Bell, ugh, later and we made it home. Now, if the car starts in the morning, I can run to AutoZone and get a new battery and still make it to class. If it doesn’t, I get to miss my class and deal with the car. Either way, Susan gets to sit around the house and wait for her luggage to show up. I am not having fun yet.

Got a new battery this morning. The car did start, bless its heart. The stoner who installs batteries was 45 minutes late to work. Up late for a party. I remember very clearly being stoned the night before and still making it to the theatre on time. Yes? Barbara Hartman-Jenichen and Randy Becker. Kids today. Don't even know how to get stoned and function at the same time. Sad. Got to class late, but still got there. Wore my brain out, which means it was a great class.

Well, folks, it is almost over. I had my last class at the Quilt Festival today. All the classes have been great, but today’s was superlative. It was Nova Montgomery teaching us how to maintain our Singer Featherweights. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it is a 13 lb. straight stitch machine which quilters covet the world over. They stopped making them in the mid-50’s (I think), so only the vintage ones are left. They have tried to duplicate them, but they try to do it without spending any money. These little gems are solid metal with a solid metal shaft holding the needle. What this means is that with the appropriate needle, they can sew 2 layers of chiffon or 6 layers of denim. Anyway, we took our machines apart and cleaned them thoroughly (with kerosene!) and put them back together again. My machine is singing, which makes my heart sing. I know of no one who sews who owns a Featherweight that isn’t emotionally attached. I am no different. Tomorrow Susan has her last class and Sunday we head back to Ft. Myers…over 7700 miles so far and six weeks later. I am so very ready to be back home and have promised myself 3 days without getting in the car. Getting home is not going to be all fun and games. I have a pool cage that is in pieces and a garden to resurrect. I also have some sheets that have sat in the washing machine for 6 weeks. Wet. I am not looking forward to that chore. But compared to others, I still consider myself having won the lottery. BTW, in case anybody is wondering, driving the streets and freeways of Houston is taking your life into your hands…and the hands of heat crazed orangutans pretending to be Texans. The first 12 years if my life were in and around Houston, I miss that Houston. That life centered around Rice Institute. That life centered around slow, hot days and graceful old Texas architecture. None of that exists now. Rice is Rice University and my family connections to it are gone. The days are still hot, but taken at a breakneck speed. The skyline is all glass and shiny metal. And there is no going home again.

The car is packed, awaiting Susan’s “stuff.” I’m about to wash sheets and towels so that Claire and Tom don’t return home to a mess. And I am finding myself a little depressed. While I am over anxious to be home, I am also a little sorry that going home is all that is left of my adventure. I have seen so many long lost friends and seen so many wonderful geologies, that I will miss the excitement of new experiences every day. I also know that I will never take another trip like this. I will see most of the people I have seen on this trip again, but I or they will fly. The country from 35,000 feet is a very different one from the one on the road. And so, a little depression has set in. On Thursday I went back to New Braunfels to see Sheryl, my best friend from high school. I can’t remember the last time we were in the same room together, but it was decades ago. We have kept in touch through Facebook, but she stopped posting awhile back. It turns out that she has the early stages of dementia. Despite that, we connected again and both complained about what we couldn’t remember. It was so special to be with her, but I know we will never see each other again. Again, a little depressing. Through what grace there is in a downward spiral such as hers, the early years are still there for the most part and those are the years that we were closest. So “we laughed, we cried, we made the visit a part of ourselves.” I have indulged in this emotion long enough. The sheets are calling me. I have words for them, but none are appropriate for this.

To those who were nay-sayers and thought that I would: 1. Die a horrible death as a woman alone on the road, 2. Give up in the middle and come crawling home to my recliner, 3. Be too lonely for words, I blow a raspberry in your face. That being said, I will never do that again. It was the trip of a lifetime and I feel very lucky to have been able to make it, but once was enough.
But I am really home. Like sitting in my recliner vegging in front of the TV home. I was able to re-wash the sheets, because while not exactly fresh, they weren’t filled with black mold. There is something rank in the fridge, but I am going to explore that tomorrow. The pool cage is a disaster. I AM NOT COMPLAINING. Driving through town was scary. They have had 5 weeks to clean up the mess and it still looks like there was a disaster here…which there was. While there are broken trees everywhere, the real disconnect was the top of the town. Ft. Myers has always been shady. Between the trees and the royal palms, there has always been some shade to be had. It is like someone gave the city a buzz cut. So many trees are gone, and while most of the palms still stand, all but the newly formed fronds at the tops are gone. Palms were designed for hurricanes. They are actually of the grass family and bend with the wind. Just the fronds break off, which isn’t a big deal because they regularly fall off of their own accord. Newly planted palms come with all the fronds cut off except the trimmed new ones at the top. All of the palms look newly planted.
I’d like to thank all of you for going on this trip with me. Your words of kindness and consideration have helped me immensely to stay on course. My life will now become boring with nothing to write about except quilting and bridge and I am looking forward to that! “Nice trip. Thank you very much.” - John Lennon to the yogi Mahareshi.

Someone at the Quilt Festival gave Covid to Susan Dunn Thomas and me. Not a happy camper. There were any number of things that I could have been given that would have been much more welcome than this. Fabric. Sewing machine. You know. Good stuff.

Apparently my trip is not over. I woke up this morning and couldn't figure out where I was and wondered how many days it would be before I got home. Total mind warp. Took me a very long minute to figure out I was home. Really in truly home.