Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Yet There It Sits

Some people love to sew. I am not one of those people. Yet, there the sewing machine sits, mocking me, from its roost on the big harvest table in the middle of our living space. I can't walk from the sofa to the kitchen without passing it. The mess it creates gnaws at the back of my eyes. I like things neat and tidy.

Yet there it sits. Waiting for me to start my next project. Today I was goaded into finally hemming those new drapes for the bedroom. I feel a sense of relief, at least temporarily. I'm not sure what my next project will be: pillow shams for our bedroom; window valances for our bathroom; treat/poop bag pouch; slightly bigger outfit for Kabira (who is wearing the one I just made every day). Oh yes. I love sewing (not).

Speaking of Kabira and her clothes, she is wanting to have them on day and night. It is nice to see her stretched out on the futon and not curled into the smallest ball she can get into. She is so funny when we put one on her - she prances around the house, pleased as punch. I've never known a dog who likes to dress up as much as she does.

I seem to be spending all my time exercising or cooking food. Or crashed in exhaustion on the sofa. Maybe that's why the sewing projects are not progressing very quickly. It seems hard to believe that we are already mid-Feb. Three months and we could be camping (maybe even earlier if weather permits) - I'd better get cracking.

Is everyone watching the Olympics? I will confess to not really watching at all. I suppose if I recorded it on my pvr and then fast forwarded through all the babble, I would at least watch some of the events, instead I am subjected to CNN... I take that back, no so much CNN; we've started watching Stargate SG1 - right from the very first episode. Did you know it was mostly recorded in Canada.

I'm grateful for the sun today. I'm also grateful that I am healthy enough to exercise, and move like I have been doing.

There is nothing in the world more beautiful than the forest clothed to its very hollows in snow. It is the still ecstasy of nature, wherein every spray, every blade of grass, every spire of reed, every intricacy of twig, is clad with radiance. ~William Sharp