Collecting and a Family Story..

#1  The Collection:
I sew was not going to this sale...
Just like chocolate, I forgot somehow, that I felt poorly.

A king size  completed quilt top,  ( I spy a patch or two from the 70's)

A partially made 40's top with all the fabric to complete it.

Star blocks, hand pieced

A needle book collection that I must have really, really needed???

A little patchwork heart that I am going to make into a name tag.

Plaid flannels and plaid plains

 A funky duck holder...I love funky!!

#2  A Story:

My mother retired at 62.

We treated her like a 2 year old and coined the phrase:

("the terrible 62's)

She had decided to celebrate her own life.  We were aghast.
She announced that she had graduated from motherhood.

 THAT did not go over too well with the family.

She would set the clock and lock herself in her bedroom for 30 minutes.
Reading the newspaper and listening to Madame Butterfly made us all...
to the person, quite jealous.

To this day, I do not  like the music of "Madam Butterfly"  lol.

As for me.....I think I will take a lover and move to the beach for a year.
Oh No!!!!!  Just kidding

Ha ha ha...that would be the crazy 69s...

The overwhelming crises here have left me hugely exhausted.

I have decided to buy online and elsewhere for myself.

It is painful to walk..I miss my Dear Man... so what the heck.??

First, it was fabric to save my soul..during the lonely times.

Next, shirts for myself , justified because I had none,,,

The sizes just were not right, somehow...the M&M problem, you know...

After my diagnosis last week, I started collecting canes.

I now have six of them...all delivered right to my door.

 I went to an estate sale of a master quilter today.

I grabbed it all up, bringing it here...to my estate,
. Her distraught daughters knew nothing about

Quilting.and were sad and quite overcome.

As I added some of her stash to mine..and her collections to mine.

I must say, that thoughts of my dear Emily floated, just floated..

None of these things of course have righted the missing

Nor have they cured the pain.

But they are mine and me and I will do it if I want to..

At very bad times, I am friendless and alone.

My cognitive distortions shout loudly.

My friends have abandoned me...

They do not anymore like fluffy, nor bionic.

They have to walk me here and there lest I fall

I am disabled.  I am old.

My bestie calls herself, CL...chopped liver, when I talk like this.
.  I laugh.

When the distortions fade, usually with the light of day.
Gratitude comes forth..

Lucky me.

Lucky  Lucky  Lucky me!