My mind has been whirling about the kid I am about to have. She arrives any day now. People keep saying to enjoy these days because there won’t be any more like this. That is difficult because I am just so…
The quilt has arrived. Andy’s grandma Dolly made it. I couldn’t love it any more. I picked out the fabric and pattern and she assembled it perfectly.
I asked her if she would like to make the quilt and she seemed apprehensive. I couldn’t tell if the trepidation was because she hadn’t sewn in years or because she didn’t want this project so I proceeded carefully. The next day she phoned and told me to send her the pattern so she could study it. And the day after that she had hauled her machine out of the basement to the kitchen.
I don’t know how long it has been since she has sewn. I feel so lucky to have something she made. I love staring at the stitches and the composition and imagining her in her kitchen under the china plates that Lewie bought and the picture of the religious-looking man praying over bread, licking her lips as she does when concentrating, threading a needle and piecing it all together.
While taking the above photos, little peanut became irresistibly photogenic. Olive loves to hang out in Bug’s clothes. She buries herself way way back of the drawer so I often don’t notice her in there and I close the drawer. She doesn’t make a peep. And, then, sometimes hours, later I hear this sweet little meu suggesting she would like out.
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