Birdhouse and Sylvia's Sampler

As promised, this is the small birdhouse. The other gals made larger ones, two story birdhouses and we had so much fun! I fashioned my roof from metal flashing, and soldered it together with ball chain at the bottom to cover the cut edges. One gal used a copper gelatin or pudding mold for a roof and we found metal funnels at the big box home improvement store for some of the others. The base is a plumbing item glued in and it will allow air to circulate. Those stores are great resources for crafters. The rocks are affixed with liquid nails.

And the 3rd row of Sylvia's Wedding sampler is now complete. This gives one an opportunity to use all of the smaller pieces of fabric that just are too good to toss.

Yesterday the Mr. and I went for our flu and pneumonia shots and we have been paying for it since. This year anyone who has reached the age of 65 received a different vaccine than younger people. Our arms are swollen and extremely sore (never have I had such a reaction to an injection). The Mr. is convinced that this is a plot to actually get rid of this baby boomer generation. He may be right!!! More swelling today and hopefully by tomorrow we will see improvement!

We never really grow up; we only learn how to act in public.

Great finds and Sylvia's Sampler update

See the wonderful cast iron griddle? I have a love for cast iron cookware and the Mr. and I hit a whole rural neighborhood of garage sales a couple of weeks ago. For a mere two bucks, I scored this 20" griddle in really great shape. I made pancakes and sausage all at once the next morning.
Great find!
Then the paper cutter. In our computer room, office, whatever..we constantly have a need for a paper cutter and have always wished for an old school paper cutter. At 12"X12"this one isn't too large. Another good score for $5.00.

Now to Sylvia's sampler blocks. Remember when I posted row 2, many weeks ago, I just skipped # 8 as it seemed way beyond my capabilities? I got my nose to the grindstone and decided that it was not going to intimidate me and I successfully completed it. Since these blocks unfinished are only 6 1/2 inches (if your quarter inch seams are correct), it has many small pieces. Ignore the strings and less than perfect seam allowances. In a large quilt with over 140 small squares, I don't think it will be noticed.
Pardon the absence. I have been really busy! The Mr. is installing a drip system for both front and back gardens, including all of the trees. It has been a job. I completed my brick walkway and started my herb garden border. Today I dug coral bells, yarrow and hyssop from my generous neighbor's yard and planted those. The first part of the week, my friend Barb came and spent 3 days and nights with me. We shopped and crafted on Tues when my other friend Pat came to spend the day. I am working on two quilts. Prior to that, I can't remember...but one day just runs into another at this stage of my life.

A friend sent us an E-mail...perhaps you have received this one. A new-word-for-the-day?
Paraprosdokian is a figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected in a way that cause the reader or listener to re-frame or reinterpret the first part.
Example: A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

Even though I have away from the blog for a couple of weeks, I leave today with a clear conscience. Think about it.

Resume of life

This brick path is being constructed by me with gloved hands. I don't like to wear gloves, but the bricks and the shoveling and the sifting the rocks from the soil I remove are so hard on my bare hands. I have always thought my hands were, as hands go, a nice compliment to my otherwise plain, short and now stubby body. Not being a very vain person, I have always liked the way my hands looked. As a child these pastie white hands burned in the rays of the hot summer sun, as I did chores assigned, and played outside when the work was finished. They hoed weeds in the yard, pulled weeds in our garden, froze in the early winter morning hours as milk was fed to calves, and frozen water dishes were broken for other animals. By the age of 4, I was learning to hold a crochet hook and weave yarn carefully around my nimble fingers under the careful eyes of my maternal grandmother. My 6th grade teacher taught the class to knit on those winter days too cold to be allowed outside at recess. My mother taught me to embroider and my fingers pushed the needle up and down, fingers getting pricked in the process. Then I was taught to sew and we made most of our own clothes. These hands worked one summer in a beet field with my mother, on my hands and knees, thinning sugar beets. Later for six plus months, they supported my body on a pair of crutches as my broken leg and foot were healing. After high school I became a keypunch operator (when a computer occupied an entire room), and later a typist and then worked as a secretary...all requiring my fingers to fly across the machines as many as 8 hours a day. As a mother of two, they did all of the "motherly" things mother's hands do. I learned to decorate cakes and that is one of the most stressful actions on the wrists, hands and fingers. I am a stained glass artist and using the cutters and other related tools are brutal on hands. I tried throwing pots..never quite getting the hang of it, but I do love mosaics and grouting. I build birdhouses and have learned to use lots of tools, but again the staple guns were tough on the hands. (now there are electric ones) Now I am finally getting to do some quilting also. I have always done gardening and for the life of me cannot wear gloves!! ( gotta get them in the soil) My hands help me talk. If someone tied them behind my back I would not be able to talk. (A joke my dad always told me.) Looking at my hands now, they are so abused and weather beaten and just plain ugly. Of course they are getting older and the skin is getting thinner and the veins are getting bluer and more pronounced. Today I heard an artist discuss a water color she had done of an old woman and her weathered hands. She said something that inspired me. She said that she felt that "hands are a resume of a person's life".

I will forever remember that quote. Seeing my fingers with their tale tell signs of arthritic joints and my scarred palms and veins popping, and my aching wrists, I must have a hell of a resume of my life!