Say It Isn't True, Jon!

When The Daily Show started tonight, Jon Stewart had a secret that the studio audience didn't know...but that the viewing audience already knew, since the show is broadcast much later than it is taped and so his news had been all over the news and social media all evening.

Sometime later this year, at a date not yet specified, Stewart is stepping down as host of The Daily Show.  The tributes to him all over the media and news shows this evening made you feel as if he had died.

First Robin Williams, then Stephen Colbert, and now Jon Stewart.  It's definitely the end of an era.

I was not a fan of The Daily Show for the first few years, but Ned goaded me into checking it out and I was immediately hooked.  Stewart jokes that his is a "faux news" program and reiterates time and time again that he is not a newsman and yes, that's true.  He doesn't go out and find news, but he reports news he finds on other sources, and he interviews newsmakers, and in so doing he has created an entirely new genre of news reporting, one which holds the feet of everyone to the fire, who takes no prisoners, and whose facts, when checked, are almost always spot on.  He may have had a glitch or two in the past 16 years, but I don't remember any.  It seems that I read once that the two programs which had the least factual errors were Rachel Maddow and The Daily Show.

He reports the news in an entertaining fashion, but always with a biting edge that does not suffer fools gladly.  Or maybe he does suffer fools gladly, since he has so much fun pointing out the errors in their messages.

What will we all do without Jon Stewart?  We will survive.  We survived last summer, when he took off to direct his first movie (I knew then, in my heart of hearts, that he was getting restless and would soon leave for other pastures -- maybe not always greener, but different.)  

Then, he left the show in the capable hands of John Oliver, who now has his own show on HBO, and is doing well...and can say all those words that Comedy Central has to bleep out of The Daily Show. 

 

Stewart is making a very wise decision, though all of us fans are in mourning this evening.  He is going out on a high note.  He's not going to stay too long at the fair, but he is leaving the show, leaving people clamoring for more, not sticking around to the point where everyone is wondering if maybe he's lost his edge.

As much as I hate change, and as much as I have loved The Daily Show and look forward to it...daily...I wish him well and congratulate him for a very long, very successful roll of the dice.

His announcement at the end of tonight's show was very emotional and, as he fought tears, I had tears running down my face as well.  But hey, I cry at supermarket openings and Hallmark card commercials.

He's not gone yet.  It may be July, it may be December...he doesn't know, but he will leave a legacy behind that no one will be able to match, at least not for a long time.

---

"Mommy, please make it stop," Lester seems to be saying.

You can see that the snow mountain has reached the top of Jeri and Phil's porch...fortunately they are up off the ground by several steps, otherwise their windows would be covered.

And Boston is set for two more storms to hit later this week.

I feel so sorry for them and for everyone in New England who is trying to cope with this incredible snow season.

Buying a Burger

How hard is it to buy a cheeseburger at Jack in the Box?

Apparently more difficult than you would think.

I went to Atria today.  I didn't want to go for lunch, so waited until 12:30 and saw that my mother was at a table, apparently talking to someone.  I felt like I used to when Tom started kindergarten and cried every morning when I dropped him off.  I would leave him, turn my back and walk away, but then find a place across the street where he couldn't see me, but I could watch him...and then the crossing guard would let me know later how he had done during the day.

Seeing my mother interacting with women at her table made me feel as hopeful as I felt when we were looking for places for her to move and I watched groups of women talking and laughing together over lunch.  She needs to interact with others and today she did that.  Of course for all I know she does it every day, but I hadn't really witnessed it before, since I'm always with her.

Anyway, I had come to refill her pill holder.  I normally bring her new set of pills over the weekend, but with the combination of pouring rain on Friday and not having a car Saturday or Sunday it was today before I could get them to her.  Fortunately, nothing she takes is keeping her alive, so missing a day isn't a big deal.

We visited for about half an hour, but I had a coughing fit (first one I'd had today, I think...I am much better) and decided to cut the visit short.

However, it was 1:30 and I had not had lunch.  I rarely eat at fast food places any more, but occasionally a burger just calls out to me.  My place to go is Jack in the Box, because it has a drive through and I am inherently too lazy to get out of the car, and also because I can order a cheeseburger plain, i.e., with nothing on it, and nobody ever questions it.  Also like their curly fries.

So I pulled into the drive-thru behind 2 cars and ordered a cheeseburger, plain, curly fries, and a diet Coke with the disembodied voice in the speaker.  I almost never have soft drinks, but there was no bottled water in the car and it just sounded like it would go well with my burger.

The guy who greeted me at the window was all smiles, his big grin revealing a mouth of mostly silver teeth.  But he was cheerful, and asked me how my day was going, which almost never happens.  I was impressed that they had such a friendly guy working the window. We exchanged pleasantries.

He got my order together and said "You wanted Sprite, right?"  I corrected him and told him that no, I wanted a diet Coke.  I handed him a $20 bill and he handed back my change.  Before I took the bag with my food in it, I looked at change and it appeared he had shortchanged me by more than $5. 

I questioned him and he got the tag and told me that my order had come to >$12.  On the screen it had said $5.94.  I told him what I had ordered and he got flustered, realizing that he had filled the wrong order for me.

So he asked me again what I ordered.

"Cheeseburger plain, small curly fries, and medium diet Coke," I repeated.

He still seemed flustered.

"Cheeseburger...and turkey....?"

"No," I stopped him, repeating my order for the third time.

He turned back and was gone for awhile and then asked what I wanted with my burger.  I repeated that I wanted curly fries and he asked me what size.  I repeated "small."

In the meantime I could see that about four cars were patiently waiting behind me now (or maybe impatiently, but where were they going to go?  Once you get into line you are stuck until you pass the food window).

The guy and I exchanged money twice.  I gave him back the paper change he had given me for my $20 and he started to give me change from that, but I had to remind him that I needed to give him back the coins he had given me too. (Of course when I got the coins, I dropped them into the slot between the seats with other coins, so I just guessed at what he had given me.)

He finally handed me a bag which, when I checked, seemed to have the right food in it and the change from my $20 seemed to be right, so I quickly moved my car ahead so the next car could move into the space by the window where I had been.

I really wanted to write to Jack in the Box to compliment them on such a friendly face at the window, but given how totally incompetent the guy seemed to be, ultimately, I decided against that!

On the way home, a guy on a bike was riding on his bike in the bike lane, while texting on his phone, unaware that he was riding right into the car lane in front of me and I had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting him.  He didn't even know it.

This is the kind of day that makes me feel that I don't belong in downtown Davis any more!

Sunday Stealing

What TV gameshow/reality show would you like to be on?
Right now, none. But if I were younger and fitter, I'd love to be on Amazing Race and if my brain worked faster these days, I would love to try Jeopardy.

What was the first movie you bought in VHS or DVD?
Oh wow.  That was back in the 1970s.  I don't have a clue.  But I remember we were only going to buy ONE because they were so expensive. Now I have them coming out my ears, and that's after giving away >300 of them.

If you had one million dollars to spend only on yourself, what would you spend it on?
Only on myself?  I can't share it?  OK.  The best, fastest computer available, my own car (I've never owned my own car), someone to help me organize clutter and a housekeeper to keep it organized, a personal tailor to make clothes that fit me, and a trip to visit each of my Compassion kids.  Or just pay ahead for 20 years in an Independent/Assisted living facility, so I don't have to worry about money, housekeeping or cooking ever again.

One place you've visited, can't forget and want to go back to?
The South of France.

Do you trust easily?
Less easily than I used to, but still too easily.

Do you generally think before you act, or act before you think?
Act before I think.  (see previous question!)

Is there anything that has made you unhappy these days?
My mother's increasing dementia makes me unhappy every day, though on the flip side, I'm happy that, at 95, she is still in good health.

Do you have a good body image?
Sure.  This is it:

What is your favorite fruit?
Strawberries and pineapple, with bananas a close second.

I’m always being asked…
If I think my mother is going to live "to hunnert"

The last big belly laugh I had was…
I laugh at lot, but I can't remember the last big belly laugh.  

What websites do you visit daily?
Facebook, G-mail, Compassion, Swap Bot, Instagram, Word with Friends

What have you been seriously addicted to lately?
In the last 2 days, a thread on Facebook bringing a host of old journalists back together.  Many no longer journal, some still do.  They have come out of the woodwork to reminisce.  Such fun!

What's the last song that got stuck in your head?
Can't think of one.  Probably something from a commercial.

Favorite clothing?
Sweat pants and a t-shirt, with Birkenstocks.

Do you think Rice Krispies are yummy?
I used to love them.  Now...? meh.  And they don't snap, crackle, or pop for me any more.

What would you do if you saw $100 lying on the ground?
Pick it up and see if anyone nearby had lost it (not revealing the amount, of course).  If not, keep it for awhile until I feel it's OK to spend it.

Items you couldn't go without during the day?
I can pretty much go without almost anything during the day, except water and indoor plumbing.  But what would I not want to go without during a day -- my iPad, the TV, my computer, and mail delivery.

What should you be doing right now?
Cleaning.  Folding laundry.  That kind of stuff.

The Cool Kids

Well, this damn cough did me in for a second weekend.  I had been looking forward to this weekend almost as much as last weekend's wedding.

Walt's cousin Ernie Baur and his wife Lucille, two of my favoritest people in the world, were in town from Maryland.  They had been to So. California and are flying back home again tomorrow, but they came north to spend a day with Walt's brother and his wife, Walt and me, Ned and Walt's sister and her husband.  We were going to celebrate Alice Nan's 70th birthday (Feb. 12) and Walt's 75th (Feb 26).

The plan was to go to San Francisco and walk around all day, have Irish coffee at the Buena Vista (where it was invented), and then return to Norm & Olivia's to have dinner.

I already knew that walking around San Francisco all day was not going to work for me, so my plan was to stay at Norm and Olivia's for the day while the rest of them went to play.  Walt said we would have to leave by 8 a.m.

I got up at 6:30 to get my hair washed, and change into clothes for lounging about for the day.  I packed up my iPad, got my book, and was ready and waiting for Walt to finish his breakfast.  

While I was sitting there, I continued coughing and coughing and coughing.  The bad kind of cough where there is phlegm in your lungs and you can't bring it up and the trying doubles you over until you feel like you're going to vomit.

"What am I doing?" I thought to myself.  I was going to spend the day spreading germs around Norm and Olivia's house and when everybody got home, I was going to try to visit with them while coughing my lungs out.  NOBODY was going to be happy to see me, for sure!

So, sadly, once again I backed out of something I had been looking forward to for several weeks and Walt went off without me.

There were all sorts of things I was going to do in between coughing attacks (I can actually go for 2-3 hours without coughing at all, but then it all comes back again).  First I thought I'd watch a movie, so I chose Kinky Boots, which I loved. 

Then I was going to do something but first I had to check Facebook.

Lo and behold, someone had started a group called "Old School On Line Journalers."  It was for people who were, many years ago, very active in journaling (before "blogs" came along) and who may or may not still be writing.

Oh. my. word.

Out of the woodwork they came.  All those names I knew so well from the late 90s and early 200s.  People I met at the second Journalcon, a convention of on-line Journalists held in San Francisco, where I read one of my entries, thinking it was hilariously clever, only to have it bomb.

It was such fun to see all those familiar names again, and yet it brought back all those feelings of being on the outside watching all the cool kids.  The fact that most of the posts I made in the various conversations seem to have been ignored just reinforced the feeling I had when I was at Journalcon.

I've never done parties or groups well.  It's why I have a camera.  I can find pleasure photographing all the cool kids interacting than trying to enter into one of the conversations.

Not only am I terribly shy, but I also had the extra handicap of being old enough to be mother to most of the cool kids.  As they all virtually high fived each other and talked about what they had been doing over the last 10-15 years, I realized that they had gotten married, found jobs, had babies, etc.  I had retired and buried children.  Whoopie!  Not much to interest the cool kids.

But that didn't mean I was not enjoying the conversation.  There were several threads going at once, the "what have you been doing" thread, the "if you are still journaling, what is your URL thread," the "Which of our members have we lost" thread and a few others, like remembering writing entries in HTML code and the sites like GeoCities, where many of us started, which no longer exists.  There were so many people posting that I was literally getting 3 new messages every couple of minutes.  Not messages to me, of course, but messages to the group that I was enjoying reading.

I couldn't believe how much time I "wasted" reading those messages, but then rationalized that if I had gone with Walt, I wouldn't have gotten anything done either, so I didn't worry about it.  It was nearly 5 p.m. before I could tear myself away.

I really enjoyed seeing all the cool kids again but I felt the same detachment from them that I did back at Journalcon.  

In 1996 I went to see a therapist to help me through the grief after Gilbert's death.  She gave me an assignment at my first meeting, which was to draw a cartoon of how I saw myself.  I loved my cartoon which showed a worm slithering across the floor to a group of people.  The worm raises up and joins the conversation and everything is going fine until someone suddenly points at me and says "Wait a minute...you're just a worm!" and I sink back down to the floor and slither away.

Sadly, the therapist never asked to see my drawing and was too busy telling me her problems to bother listening to me and I never went back, but still today, when I am around "cool kids" I think about that drawing and realize that yet again, I am the fat kid in the brown loafers and the thick glasses hiding behind the potted palm (threw that in for you, Ron) living vicariously through watching the cool kids. Which is my own weird kind of pleasure.

But lemme tell you, when you feel like a nerd in a group of cool nerds, it's really bad!

A Hunk of Meat

Back in the glory days of Cousins Day, when Peach was healthy, Kathy was alive, and my mother still had most of her marbles, we were having breakfast one morning.  My mother made pancakes and Kathy was in ecstasy and confessed that she loved pancakes, but that she could not make pancakes.

I wondered what she meant.  I mean...my mother mixed Bisquick with milk and eggs, and dropped the batter on a griddle and cooked it.  How hard is that?

But Kathy said that her pancakes were always heavy and that she couldn't get them light, like my mother's to save her soul.

Peach chimed in  and said that the one thing she couldn't make was Jello.  That she had tried all her life but could never get Jello to set. 

Again, she couldn't make Jello?  You add hot water to mix, let it dissolve, add cold water and let it set.  How difficult was that?

While it was beyond my comprehension that my cousins, who were each good cooks, could not make these two simple dishes, I had to admit to myself lately that everyone has a blind spot when it comes to cooking.

I'm a good cook.  I will try anything.  I've cooked multi course Chinese meals. I make bread and pie dough from scratch.  I don't need the Butterball hot line to cook a turkey.  I've made my own ice cream many times.

I'm not afraid to tackle any recipe, maybe not these days when it sometimes just seems like too much work to do something complicated, but given the challenge, I'm willing to give it a go and am not afraid to try.

But there is something I cannot cook.

I cannot cook meat.  

Well, not all meat.  I can roast a leg of lamb or a good beef roast, but I have yet to make a pork dish that I didn't think was a disaster.  I can't cook pork chops or roast without having it turn out dry as a bone.  Even when I cut the cooking time down to half of what it was called for, even if I infuse the meat with lots of flavor from rubs or marinades.  Even if I follow recipes to the letter, my pork comes out dry as a bone.  Flavorful, maybe, but dry as a bone.

I can't cook a steak.  I can cook a medium well done steak, but I like it rare and I can't get it rare.  It's either too overcooked or too chewy.  Even the steaks from Omaha steaks disappoint me because I can't cook them right. I cook at the recommended temperature and let them rest so that the juices absorb back into the meat, yet when I cut into my steak, I've done it again...it just isn't up to what I wanted it to be.

My mother was always a very basic cook.  She wasn't inventive at all.  She had a handful of things that she cooked, but she cooked them better than I ever have.  

I have tried and tried, but can't get a pot roast as tender as she can.  I buy the recommended cut of beef, I sear it all over before cooking, I add all the right ingredients recommended by the chefs on the Food Channel, and I cook it long and slow, yet when I go to cut it, it's stringy and dry, even under the sauce that has flavored it all day.

She also made the very best meat loaf.  Peach always raved about her meat loaf, yet she had no recipe.  She just kind of threw whatever leftovers she had in the fridge together with ground beef.

I've been making meat loaf all of my married life and have never made it as well as my mother did.  You could cut hers into nice neat, well packed slices.  Mine crumbles when you try to slice it.  It tastes just fine, but once again I have failed to achieve what I was aiming for.

I even have a slow cooker which I have used to cook all sorts of things and yes, they taste fine  But they have a "mealy" texture that is not to my liking.

I don't know why I can't cook meat.  I can cook chicken just fine.  I can make macaroni and cheese from scratch without a recipe.  I can strip a turkey carcass and turn it into a delicious soup.  But hand me a steak and I tense up, knowing that I can cook it fine, but that when it gets on the plate and I cut into it, I will be disappointed.

I watched 10 and 11 year olds, barely tall enough to reach the counters, cooking gourmet meals, with knowledge of what they were doing, and then plating them beautifully on Chopped yesterday and I was mortified.

I don't eat much meat these days.  Somehow I just can't eat a whole steak or a whole chop or even a whole slice of meat loaf any more.  The dogs love to sit next to me at dinner because after I've had a bite or two of the meat that has disappointed me, I end up cutting it into pieces and letting them have it.

Walt doesn't seem to be unhappy with my cooking and maybe I'm being overly critical of my efforts.  I can make pancakes to suit me and my Jello always sets properly, but I can't cook a hunk of meat to please me to save my soul.

Today at Logos

After a few weeks of not-very-busy days at Logos, today was pretty steady for both Sandy, in the morning, and me in the afternoon.  Susan said we made nearly $400 for the day.

The first person in the store for me after Sandy left was a very tall woman dressed in shorts, despite the chill outside.  She had a panda bear back pack and started checking the Fantasy section when suddenly she came to ask me if we had a bathroom.  Ours is for the employees and really not fit for the general public, so I directed her to a building across the street and she raced out the door.  I didn't expect her to return, but she did later (though still didn't buy anything).

Next was a mom, who rushed in asking if we had kids' books. I showed her the kids' room and she went in there while her mother was outside with a baby in a stroller and two dogs, a little fluffy on and a big Lab, on a leash.  Mom came out with a stack of books, asking me how much they cost (apparently the price tag on the back was too subtle for her).  She put most of them back, but did buy two, one of which was about cows learning how to type and leaving messages for their farmer.  I was sorry I hadn't seen that.  I would like to know how cloven hoofed animals learn to type.

Then one of the other volunteers came in with her mother, who looked around and said "so this is where you work."  They bought a book on quilting because apparently the daughter was going to start learning how to quilt and Mom had given all of her books away to her sister years ago.

A middle aged guy with long hair and a full beard was looking for a book called "Maps to Ecstasy," by Gabriella Roth.  It's about healing through dance.  I directed him to our Personal Growth section but he didn't find it and left.

A tall, guy, neatly dressed in slacks and a blue sweater with the most highly polished shoes I'd seen in awhile strode in purposefully, went straight to the literature section, plucked two books by Herman Hesse, paid for them and was out of the store in less than 5 minutes.

A chubby woman who reminded me of me, dressed in baggy sweat pants, a chartreuse t-shirt, a baggy blue sweater and athletic shoes came in with an armload that consisted of newspapers and a bag of chips which she kept rearranging because it seemed like it was going to fall.  She started looking through Personal Growth.  She was very pleasant and happy looking, but didn't find anything to interest her today.

Next a dad with 2 kids and a mom with 1 kid came in, one after the other and went to the children's room.  The kids were all very excited.  The mom and her son chose books first and came out to pay.  He handed me his book to ring up, with sparkly eyes and a smile on his dirty face.  When I handed it back to him, he clasped it like I'd just given him a million dollars and they left.

Then the dad came out with his two kids, each with a book.  His daughter (4-1/2 years old, she told me) had "Queen Bea" and the boy had a book on ships.  He told me he likes boats "even plastic ones."  They were thrilled when I told them they could each take bookmarks.

(I just love these parent-kid visits!)

A nicely dressed, attractive woman in a suede jacket and khaki pants came in and picked out a book of J.D. Salinger short stories.  We talked about what a recluse Salinger was and she noticed that I was reading "1984."  She said she was a teacher and her students were about to start reading that book.  We talked a bit about Big Brother and how that relates to 2015.  It would be interesting to see what her kids think of the book.

Two guys stood outside looking in the window at the books on display.  One came in to pick a book called "Monet's Kitchen."  His partner came in (I got a gaydar vibe).  They stood with their backs to me and they were dressed identically, with baggy jeans and matching hoodies.  One guy had white hair and the other one had a tiny pony tail at his neck line.  When the guy came to pay for his book, he was preceeded to the desk by waves of body odor.

A burly guy in a red cotton checked shirt, wearing a backpack, and sporting a full beard started looking through the literature section and chose two books by Mark Twain.

My friend showed up right at 5 and wandered around a bit, finally buying a book on Indian (from India) miniatures.

A Latino guy wanted bibles, but apparently didn't find the one he was looking for because he didn't buy anything.

An older guy came in wanting to know if we bought old textbooks.  It sounded like he had his college engineering textbooks (so does Walt!)  and recently found one of them for sale on e-Bay for considerably more than he paid for it, so he thought he could make some money finding a book store to buy his old books.  We don't buy books, but I gave him some ideas of where he might try to sell them.

It reminded me of the book I typed (all 651 pages, multi equations and all, three times, on a pre-Selectric typewriter) back in the 1960s.  It was called "Fundamentals of Statistical and Thermal Physics" and I think it sold for something like $20 back then.  I just checked on Amazon and it's still for sale...for $102 (and has a lot of 5-star reviews from patrons).  That book was translated into many different languages and the most fun one was Japanese because on the acknowledgements page, it's all Japanese characters except for "Beverly West," which is written out.  

Toward the end of the day, Bruce came in.  I hadn't seen him in months.  I hardly recognized him because this was the first time I had seen him without his home made hat and the bulky sweater he was wearing made him look considerably heavier than he is.  However he was still all in white.  The sweater was unraveling and over it he wore a too-big white t-shirt.  He looked around for awhile, but didn't find anything and left, turning to give me a wave as he did.

At the end of the day, Walt picked me up and we went out for a fabulous Japanese dinner to "celebrate" what would have been David's 42nd birthday. I ordered tempura.  I just love the "tempura tower" (I call it).

Walt ordered two plates of sushi rolls and we shared everything, which was just perfect.

Needle and Thread

When I went to visit my mother on Monday, she pointed out that the hem in one of my pant legs of my "good" sweat suit was unraveling.  I broke the thread that was hanging and could see that half of my hem was dangling down.

Many of the "housewifely arts" have eluded me and sewing is right there at the top.

My mother was a wonderful seamstress in her day and made many of our clothes.  At one point she decided to take a tailoring class and made a beautiful lined coat for Jeri, which I saved to pass along to my grandchildren.  But of course when the time came to find it, it, along with all of the kids' favorite books and my beloved childhood "red books" that I saved, was no longer where I remembered putting it.  I'm sure when/if we ever pack up this house I will find all those things I thought I had saved...but it's already too late.

I had good intentions of learning to sew, but my inherent klutziness (and tendency to rush through things in my desire to get to the finished product as soon as possible) did me in.

I took a sewing class from Sister Bernadone, a large woman who was fond of saying she read the obituaries every morning to find out if she was still alive. We did some basic stuff and our big project of the semester was to be something of our own choosing that we could wear in the spring fashion show.  Ever the girly-girl, I chose a dress with a full skirt that would "twirl," and then an overskirt which was reversible, giving you two possible looks.  Sister was excited about the project too.

I guess the dress turned out all right...I don't remember...but I was most excited about the overskirt, which would turn my simple dress into something spectacular.

I had chosen a pink pattern for the dress and for one side of the overskirt and white for the other side (in retrospect that was a bad decision from the get go).

Things were going all right until near the end when it was time to put the waistband on the overskirt.  The fabric, double-thick, was heavy and I somehow, in trying to turn it right side out after sewing the two pieces together, managed to make a tear of about 8" down the middle of the white side of the skirt.  It ruined the whole thing and it was too late to fix it.  We used white iron-on tape, but you could never reverse the skirt because there was that big ol' piece of tape spoiling everything.

In honesty, I don't remember ever wearing that dress.

Here in Davis, in my homemaking days, I decided to take a quilting class.  I was really excited about my project, which was to make a Superman quilt for Ned.  I'd never done anything like a quilt before.  My quilt was to have a blue background and then I appliquéd a larger-than-life Superman, traced from a poster Ned had hanging over his bed.  It was great.  I used black velvet for his hair and it looked so cool.  

The appliqué process went very well and my teacher was looking forward to the finished project, as was I. 

But then in my rush to get it all done, I cut the sides of the quilt too narrow.  No way to fix that.  I did add extra pieces to each side to make it the right width, but my teacher was so disappointed she, like Sister Bernadone, lost all interest in my project. 

Ned loved it, though, and tells me he still has it.

That Christmas I made quilts for each of the kids, but the other four got quilts that were made of squares with ironed-on pictures the kids had drawn on them.  They were great, but they weren't the show stopper that Ned's was.

I did make another quilt later.  We were getting a quilt together for the LaLeche League leader who was moving on to other things.  She had been in charge of all the LLL groups in California for years, so I contacted everyone and had them send in squares which I then sewed into a quilt, so large that the only way to take a picture of it was to hold it from the top of our kids' play structure.

The quilt was a big hit and I was happy to have done it.  We did another project like that for one of the grammar school teachers when she was about to have a baby.  I put that one together too.  But the beauty of both of those quilts was in the squares that everyone decorated and sent to me.  I was just the seamstress.

Nowadays I don't sew anything, but I did buy a small repair kit and so I unearthed it today to fix my pants leg.  I must have the thinnest thread imaginable and the smallest needle eye.  Half blind, no depth perception, no great hand-eye coordination and trying to thread the needle would have worked just as effectively as if I had asked a blind person to do it for me.  I just have to keep stabbing in the general direction of the eye of the needle and hope somehow that by some miracle I managed to get the thread through it.  Too bad it wasn't being filmed--it would have made a great comedy.

I did and I sewed up the hem.  Or half of it.  I didn't unroll enough thread, so I had to do the "threading the needle" contortions all over again.  But in the end, I did get it done.  I haven't a clue how long it's going to last.

Walt was out while I was doing my mending (oh that sounds so domestic!) and when he got home, I told him he had missed a once in a lifetime event and that such an opportunity would not occur again.  If I didn't hate shopping for clothes so much, I would just have thrown the pants away and bought a new pair, but this pair should last me a bit longer, anyway.