Thank You Notes

Yes, I've been gone awhile. I could go on and on about why, but do you really want to hear it? You're probably not even reading this because you kept checking and checking for a new post and there never ever was one so you decided forget Mommacita and her non posting moods. Isn't it all tired and rusty for you? I thought so. However, we're 90 minutes away from the day of Thanks, and so darn it, let's be a thanking.

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So moving on.... imagine me, Mommacita-lazyetera, hand in hand with Jimmy Falon, host of late night TV. I know some people (neice, daughter) who have crushes on this guy, so let me just state right here, right now, that the hand holding is purely platonic. I could never beat out those two beauties. Because they are cute AND funny.

Moving on again... On his show, Jimmy often writes thank you notes, (to people like Frebreeze (for covering up odor and grime so we don't have to wash something and have it really clean instead)) And so even though I am no Jimmy Falon, nor pretend to be, and I am only someone who would platonically hold hands with him, I'd like to send some thank you notes. Because, he has touched me, deep down, with his thankful ness. And Because, darn it, we should all be about the thanking this weekend.

So let's all be thankful:
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Dear Guy Who Ran a Red Light in the Intersection of Kruise Way and Highway 217,
Thank you. Thank you for making me laugh out loud, as you ran that red light and almost hit me broadside while I was on my way to Trader Joe's. Thank you for leaning forward in your seat onto your steering wheel while you were doing it, because it really DID make it seem like you weren't running a red light and it really DID make you look like you were going really really fast. That leaning forward in the seat in times such as these really makes all the difference. And Thank you for those eyes of determination. I laughed out loud, because a good NASCAR reference is always a winner for me.
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Very Truly Yours,
Mommacita

(and now please imagine me folding up the thank you note and licking the envelope only on the point because I can't stand the taste, just like Jimmy)


Dear Hersey Candy Company,
Thank you Hersey Candy Company for only making Minty M&M's at Christmas time and not all year round. Because I would be as big as a moose.
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Very Truly Yours,
Mommacita

(folding, licking, only on the pointing)


Dear Trader Joes,
Ditto the above Thank you note but insert Peppermint Jo'Jo's for Minty M&M's.
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Very Truly Yours,
Mommacita
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PS The chocolate covered Peppermint JoJo's are really sublime. Hows about a coupon sometime?

(ditto as well on the folding, and licking on the point. talk about wearing out a bit)


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Dear Henry,
Thank you little Henry, for twinkling your eyes at me. And thank you little Henry, for grinning at me through your pacifier. And Thank you Little Henry, for visiting me for a whole month. And little Henry? About letting me kiss your neck whenever I want? And going limp when I do it?
T-H-A-N-K Y-O-U. I just like watching you discover the world.

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Love and Zerberts,
GranMommacita

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Dear Sawyer,
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Thank you for letting me play "Fisher Price Christmas Manger Little People" with you all week. I never thought I'd say this, but singing Away In A Manger every time you pushed the button on the roof of the manger never got boring. All 48 times. Thank you for the dance each time the song played. Thank you for the jiggy attitude. And Thank you Soybean, for the neck kissing and the toe biting. And the generalized snuggling. You smell good.
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Zerberts and Love,
GrandMommacita

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Dear Gracie and Sophie and Ben,
Thank you for taking your medicine and getting better. I HATE dirty swines and their flu. I refuse to thank them. Thank you for talking to me on the phone and singing me a song or two. Thank you for those 3 pairs of blue eyes. I can't wait to see them. Soon! SOON! And Ben? Get ready, because I'll be a running my fingers through your hair. There might even be blogging about it. It's been known to happen.
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Love and Zerberts Times 3,
GrandMommacita

Dear Ginormous Big Screen TV that Tim showed up with that one Saturday,
Thank you for hanging on this long. You know I love ya. And thank you for not taking those disparaging remarks made by Glitch that were aimed towards you personally. They tried to double team me into replacing you, but I stood true. I am thankful that you continue to give. If an inanimate object happened to feel cold, I would make a quilt for you just in case you might be sitting there all the time feeling chilly. But they don't, so I won't bother.
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Very truly Yours,
Mommacita
PS Could you give me a sign when you're about to die so I can shop the sales?


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W.I.Y.W.C.E.???

Tonight, with Mitch and Gloria, I decided to play "Who is Your Worst Celebrity Ever?" I had to come right down here and tell you about it..... Because I've been gone along time (more about that later) (and Limon is a lonely bachelor who's comment made me want to blog again...don't get all excited you goofballs...it's not like that....he's like 26 years old and he knows my kids....but he has a funny blog....and I like to read the precious gems that are 30 months apart...) ANYWAY

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So, guys, let's play "Who is Your Worst Celebrity Ever?" (Make that sound of the crowd roaring right NOW)

Mommacita: Mariah Carey

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Because:
she wonders why I am so obsessed with her, and because I'm sick of her tight clothes. When I say I'm sick, I mean I want to throw a brick through the TV because there is nothing clever about a way too tight pink tank top and a pair of way too tight jeans and high heels. Yes, Mariah, we SEE you. Wish we could just HEAR you. And by the way, that was the only picture I was willing to publish of her because of her sleazy little outfits that she buys at Maripoza. Meee-ow

Mitch: Tyra Banks

Because:
She is annoying. And because everything that comes out of her mouth is dim-witted (I inserted the word dim-witted for his actual word, because I found his real word offensive to those who are actually this way. You can count on me to save you from anything unpleasant, disagreeable, or impertinent. You're welcome)



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Gloria: Tom Arnold

As you can see, there is no picture. I just couldn't bring myself to download one of him. Honestly, when she said Tom Arnold, I thought to myself, "Why didn't I say Tom Arnold?"

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Because:

Oh, Wow, Because of everything. Because of the movies he is in, because of what he says, because of EVERYTHING that is Tom Arnold. (this is not verbatim, however, I think I caught the upshot of what she really feels about T. A.)

So now you know what I did tonight. Limon, I hope I have filled the emptiness.

All You Ever Need To Know You Can Learn from Project Runway

Yay!!! More TV Blogging!! Double Yay!!!

Last night as I was watching Project Runway on Lifetime's channel for women, and in the midst of my gratitude for it being back, it struck me on how much we as a people can learn from Runway. I had to grab a hankie, because there were tears.

I love the Runway, (how can they sew so fast?????) and there are messages to help us that come from the Runway. This is not as good as reading your scriptures, but almost.

Message #1

Life is better if you have developed some skilz.

Message #2

If things aren't working out for you (on Bravo) then run to the nearest woman ('s network called Lifetime), and she will guide you to the promised land. Your life will be better, there won't be as many potty mouths around, and you'll get to live in Sunny California.

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Message #3

Always look for a friend like Tim Gunn: Someone that will tell you the truth, and if you fail, they'll say just the right thing and give you a hug while your heart is breaking.

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Message #4

Work Work Work. Nobody wins if they don't know how to make it work.

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Message #5

Be nice. Even if mean people make it to the top, remember no one ever wants to share a room with them

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Message #6

Beautiful things can happen in 24 hours. Out of NOTHING!

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Message #7

When all else fails, remember that things always sound classy with a German accent. Even alveedersaine.

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Message #8

If your needle breaks don't be whining about it. Nobody likes a crybaby.

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Message #9

Never do anything in bad taste. You'll get creamed for it every time.

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Message #10

Choose a good (role) model. It all comes down to the (role) model.

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I never knew the runway was so profound. I guess this just goes to show you that

You never know what you've got 'till it's gone. ~Bob Dylan. Or maybe Joni Mitchell.

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Mommmmmmmmmm-acita. Waxing philosophical.

I See Red People

I write a post, I wait, I check to see who comments, I wait a couple of days, I recheck, then I search my life for something ridiculous to write about again and to waste your time again, so that maybe my children or others will comment. This is my purpose. This is my destiny. The hard part is, my life is not that interesting. Oh yes, I do have the occasional guy in a loin cloth speed by on his bike, but for the most part, I'm stretching the envelope. Trying beyond trying to get attention from the 6 people who read this.

Writing a blog makes you examine what you do in your life, what you think, how you perceive the world. I'm not so sure that's healthy for me. Like for instance, I don't like this about myself:

Today I'm at the market. Minding my own bizzness. This couple, maybe in their 40's saunters by me and they are holding hands, wearing this

And this

BOTH of them. Matching outfits. I'm a little dumbfounded and I can't stop looking at them. And these are my thoughts (as in my head, and please pray for me that I will never voice these in real life to real people.):

Question: Where did they get those pants?

Answer: Probably Disneyland

Question: Disneyland? Do they have Mickey Mouses on them? (because that might explain this because if you are going to spend the bucks on red Mickey Mouse pants while visiting Disneyland, (because you get all caught up in the Disney Craze as you are walking around), and you get home and then you are stuck with 2 pairs of red Mickey pants and you have to get your money out of them you might wear them to the market so as not to feel sorry for buying them in the first place)

Instruction: Catch up to them and check out the pants, to see if there are Mickey's on them.

Question: What? Have you lost your marbles? Is this the consequence of living alone? You DO NOT need to know if there are Mickey Mouses on their pants. What would that serve?

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Instruction: Do not go over there by those people and look at their pants. You are becoming weirder by the minute.
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Observation: Red pants, Red Sweatshirts, wowzers, that's a lot of red.

Question: Who wears all that red?

Question: Are those Mickey pants?

Self Correction: ENOUGH. No more wondering about Mickeys on pants. It needs to be over.

Observation: But the red. BUT ALL THE RED.

Question: Should I blog about these red people?

Question: Are you kidding me? Do you really want to continue to be that girl that blogs about people she sees in the store?

Whiny Answer: I can't stop. I'm cursed with the noticing gene.

Question: Have I become this?



Answer: You certainly have if you go home and blog about the Red People.

Rationalization: But look at her. She's happy.

Question: Are you going to go home and blog about the Red People? Because if you do, You are enormously looserey.


Answer: No. No I am Not. I refuse to keep being that person.


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Apparently the receptors for resisting dessert and not blogging about people in the store are located in the same section of the brain and that section in me was damaged during the trauma of 2003. I'm sorry for any pain I may have caused you, the loyal reader.

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Monkey Business

Yesterday I started a quilt for Ben-erific, using some of these fabrics, in various colors

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And a little of this in various colors

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And some of this in two or three colors, (don't you love their jammies?)

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And I fussy cut some of this

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And I'm thinking that this baby/bigger baby quilt is going to be pretty amazing. I've never worked with a "fabric line" before, because I like to mix it up so's not to bore myself, but I think I like the decisions all being made for me right now.

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But the baby/biggerbaby quilt is not what this blog is about. I just included that info so the biggerbaby's mother could see the fabric.

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This blog is about, big surprise, TV.

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I was trying to watch TV while sewing for the last 2 days. I usually enjoy trying to watch TV.

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I have an announcement to make about TV. Here it is: TV during the Labor Day weekend is THE WORST. THE WORST. THE WORST EVER.

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Now, I made this comment to two different people, (one being someone who I am related to and actually pushed through the birth canal), but they did not agree with me because they spent the weekend watching football games and they are madly in love with Labor Day Weekend TV. Whatever.

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I repeat. Labor Day weekend TV is THE WORST EVER.

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So here's the scenerio. I had just finished watching "Mr. Smith Goes To Washington." which I had previously DVR'd during TCM's Summer Under the Stars series in August (which I dearly miss by the way) And if your are a true American, and a movie lover, then of course you find that movie a little piece of amazing. Amazing Ala Mode in fact. It got a 5 star rating. I had never seen it before. Talk about the thrill of victory. I went from watching a 5 star movie, to having this for my choice:

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Stop Your Anxiety and Depression

Slimming Jeans

Peter Papoff Prayer Line

Internet Millions

Paid Programming

More Paid Programming

Food Lovers Fat Loss System

Hypnosis for Weight Loss

Free Money

Your Baby Can Read

Christy Brinkley's Total Gym

(Really Christy Brinkley? Really? After Being a Supermodel, this is the best you can do? Really? Are you Serious? Really???)

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Celeb Hair

Clean With Shark Steam

Look Younger

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Talk about the agony of defeat.

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After scrolling through the guide every half hour, hoping beyond hope that something magically would appear, I finally decided on TLC's "Truth Be Told" This episode focused on people who take their pets too seriously. One of the vignettes was about a woman who had a little doggie and she bought it expensive costumes (a Dennis Rodman one, (which included a pink wig), a Southern Belle one and Prom Queen costume) and then entered her little doggie (wearing the costumes) into doggie pageants. She took the doggie to New York for a pageant and her doggie didn't win. And then she got super depressed.

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I am not exaggerating.

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Another vignette was about a woman who had a pet monkey named Richard (which happens to be my dad's name so I didn't exactly appreciate her monkey having the same name as my beloved daddy) who she also dressed up and took with her everywhere she went. Well, at least she was TRYING to take Richard the monkey everywhere, but the city council was getting in her way. She hired an attorney to fight for her monkey rights. The case is still pending. At the end it showed her with Richard the Monkey and 2 friends at one of those photo studios where you get all dressed up in Wild Wild West attire and get your picture taken in sepia tones and you don't smile. The monkey, even though she brushed his teeth before they went, did not smile in the wild west picture. So it turned out pretty perfect for all the ladies and Richard the Monkey at the photo place.

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I concluded from this show, that if you are dressing an animal up, you might be pushing the envelope a little.

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And I'm not sure, but I've really thought about it, especially at church today, and I'm guessing that I watched this show because I was sewing on Monkey Fabric.

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Yeah. It's never what you think it is, is it?

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Reunionesque - A Life Lesson

Dear Tim's Family,

In an attempt to bring to you pictures of our regional reunion, let's get the dirty laundry right out on the table. This website has been giving me fits today, and I've had trouble getting the pictures onto it. Since most of the pictures are pictures of crap and not people, that has doubled my frustration. I am in a terrible mood. I feel like ripping your head off right now and you didn't even do anything. I have already ripped my own head off and it is sitting over there in the entryway making a mess and mocking me. In an attempt to get into a zen place, let's start with a sunset, albeit a sunset on a cloudy day. I was going to end with this, but people, you're just going to have to work with me here.





Breathe In.

Breathe Out.

And Begin...

A week ago, we met on Rachael and Matt's house boat, or as I like to call it, the cutest little love shack ever. We left it littered with corn cobs on the back deck and glitter and s'more juice all over the kitchen table. We're sensitive that way.





We missed our family that had partied with out us in Ohio, partied without us in Arizona, and partied without us in So Cal. We missed you, but we had fun without you. We spent the day doing reunionesque things. Things like pairing up with a pixie and making boats for a boat race:








Eating more, and more and more with Grandma Loveit,






Fishing off the side of the houseboat before it was littered with corncobs:





Appreciating wildlife on the front porch

And my personal favorite, losing our personal identity by dressing alike

Since it was a cloudy day, and too cool to squeeze ourselves into swimsuits and have our pictures taken so we could be entombed in a swimsuit forever and ever on the internet, we thought up other stuff to do. We paired up randomly, in teams of two people, and we created 1 boat per team...because the first ever G-lock Regalia was to be held right before dinner. My, my, but don't the claws come out when a G-lock is competing. The teams had to build a boat out of supplies they could find, give it a name, and sail it in the G-lock Regalia.

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The first team consisted of Madison and Mommacita. They built a boat of Popsicle sticks and called it the "M & M". Because of the M's in their names. Get it? And they felt totally hip making gangsta "M" signs in their picture, although you can tell right away I'm over 50 because my gangsta M looks more like a claw.

And the blue and yellow theme of the "M & M"s? Forget about it! Others were jealous.

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The next team was Morgan and Matt. Now I'm not a sore looser or anything, but Matt dragged Morgan off into his workshop and pretty soon you could hear sanders and saws and things were flying. I'm not offended or anything, but I don't think they used the gluegun I brought because I saw nails in their boat. And that sail you see? Real sailcloth. And are you wondering if that's a candle there in front of the sail that is meant to be a source of renewable energy for their boat "Light of the River"? You wonder right. OK. I'm just going to say it. Rachael, your husband is a competitor. Opps. Should have spelled that COMPETITOR.

Next we have the paring of Richard Carlos, who we will call Carlos from now on, and Lisa/Sawyer. Sawyer was clearly the brains behind the operation that produced the "Las Vegas Queen". I kept hearing the two of them say to each other something about not having any right brains. Sawyer, your superpowers saved the day. Look at that thing.

The next group was David and Abby. They read their scriptures together before they started and were inspired by the flight of the Jaredites in the Book of Mormon who built ships that were "tight like unto a dish". They hogged all the straws and sealed them in a base of tinfoil that was sealed up as tight as you can imagine. I saw the man who made me a gold tooth over there fussing over those straws and foil and I thought no fair. Abby brought her aesthetic sense to the operation, and between the two of them the aura of light was staggering.

The next pairing was Ruth and LaRene, whose creation "LaRve" was as happy and cheery as these two themselves. I Larve them.

Next, Amanda and Rachael decided to funkify with "G-lock Starry Night". It was a mind trip. One of those pictures within a picture within a picture situations. It had wind and fog and waves and real growing things. And it was made of paper plates. And they wore black glasses and sequins, while they did it. And they ran off to a corner of the houseboat where no one could see the masterpiece until it was done. Just look how happy they are.

Every family has a little dysfunction. Nathan and Margaret. Their plan was to put cotton balls in tin foil and light them on fire thus hoping that all the other boats would burn up. Why do I think that it never sunk into either one of them what was going on? I did like their name though: "Grathan". Like Branjolina only they chew Trident Fruit Flavor.

Lastly we have the "Fairy Flower" built by Pat and Debbie. They hogged all the Styrofoam. And silk flowers. And fun foam. And feathers and sequins and glue and jingle bells and ribbon and whatever else I threw into the bag to try and get rid of at the reunion. Thank you Pat. Thank you Debbie. "Fairy Flower" gave me an extra shelf in my hall closet.

So I bet you're dying to know how the race turned out. I know I would be if I were you. Awards were given. Tears were shed. OK. No tears were shed. But this is how it turned out

"Fairy Flower" by Pat and Deb won "Most Crap on it" or in other words "Prettiest".

"Grathan" by Grandma and Nathan won "Most Thrown Together" or "Best Teamwork" which was really a social commentary designed to encourage companies to never pair the elderly with the teenager mind.

Inside view of "Grathan". They never lighted it on fire and I for one was disappointed to my very core.

Rachael and Amanda's "G-lock Starry Night" won Most Creative. Like any great work of art, a photo does not do justice. Personally, I think they should have given a best use of tulle award. They would have been a shoe in for that.

"Larve" by Ruth and LaRene won "Most Columbia Worthy". Because of their use of waves. And things rising up out of the waves. BTW, LaRene's name is on the other side of the vessel. Just in case you thought Ruth was on a power trip.

Rick and Lisa's "Las Vegas Queen" won "Best Use of Neon Lights with out Really Having any Neon Lights". Coveted award. And that glob of gold sequins stuck right in the middle? Pretty sure that's Carlo's work and not Sawyers.

Morgan and Matt's intellectual "Light of the River" won "Most Inspiring use of Materials and Inspiring Craftsmanship and Inspiring End Result and Let's Face it We are Inspired" Award. I was watching Pat and LaRene's faces when they won this, and let me tell you, I've never seen parents more proud than at that moment. Smiles as big as the sky. FYI, when they first put it in the river, it flipped and sank and the contractor ran and put the pink floaties on the ends and it happily sailed away.

The "M & M" won best name. Woo Hoo.

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The tight like unto a dish vessel "G-lock's Ark" won 1st Place, Most G-Lockie, and Most Spiritual. Let this be a lesson to all you kids out there. When heaven is on your side, you cannot fail. As soon as the Ark hit the water, it was as if a heavenly motorboat was propelling it out to sea:

It was the little ship that could. It went like the wind:

Further and faster it went, leaving the other sad little boats sitting in their puddles of sad sorryness. The crowd was going wild. whistling! yelling! stomping! That an actual G-lock was able to engineer a boat that actually floated was astounding! unbelievable! inconceivable! And you know who was up on the top deck snapping photos of every victorious moment.

When you finally take that cruise to the Eastern Carribean, and as you're standing there on the Leado Deck, with Captain Stubing and Gopher, and you see a little red and green boat that looks like it might be made out of fun foam out there on the horizon, that exact moment would be a good time to take a little personal inventory to see Who's on the Lord's Side Who. Because, my friends, we all want to be the little ark that could.

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And now, I bring to you in all humility, the fate of the "M&M"

I know the scriptures are true.


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PS This post is too long. Mitch will complain.

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These Two are Related, Really Miss Their Days at Girls Camp, Are Sympathetic to Their Half Blind Dear Sweet Grandmother, and are Drunk with Sequins

Stay tuned for more reunion fun to come. If you can stand it.

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Whilst We Wait for Certain People to Send Me Pictures From the Reunion, (you know who you are), Chomp on These

Deeeeeeee-lish.

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For Larsa, and KitKat

Saturday night as I was traveling home from a family reunion, I had a moment of self awareness.

It was about 10:00 at night, dark, I was alone, and I had left the radio off because frankly I needed the quiet of the car. I was thinking about the day, a day spent with a portion of my husband's family. Sometimes I have anxiety before such an event, because I never know what I'm going to feel in the midst of His People.

Don't get me wrong, I love them, and I enjoy them, but sometimes I notice his absence more than I would in everyday life. I like it when things remind me of him, but I don't particularly like to be blind sighted (or is it sided?) with emotion that has been placed on the shelf. I'm pretty good about that now days, but still. I like to be braced. As it turned out, I need not have given it a second thought....the day was filled with normalcy. And fun.

As I was zipping down the dark freeway, there was a semi truck behind me with it's brights on. Annoying. So I pulled over into the right lane. I immediately relaxed. My eyes, my hands, my neck, my back: all relaxed. And as I continued to drive, I said to myself, almost out loud: I really really like the right hand lane when I'm traveling alone in the dark.

I travel on that same road, at about the same time of night at least once a week. And I always find myself meandering over into the right hand lane. During the day I wouldn't be caught dead in the right hand lane. In fact, I spend a lot of time gunning past people in the passing lane.

But at night? When I'm alone on the road? When I'm more vulnerable? When I can't see the horizon off in the distance? When the path is dark and unfamiliar? I'm a right hand laner. All the way. The street light shines brighter on the right lane. There is an unbroken painted line just to the right to guide you. There is more protection, because no one travels on the shoulder that is to your right. You can move a little slower if you need to and nobody minds because, hey, who wants to travel in the right hand lane?? I feel safer with all that light and paint and protection and slowness around me. And it has just become my way. When I have people in the car with me, I don't move over there. But doing it alone? Well, it just feels better.

As I was thinking about how great the right hand lane feels in the dark, I asked myself if I was a right hand laner in other aspects of my life. The answer is yes. If I'm in the dark, I will always maneuver myself into a safer place, so I can at least feel relaxed in the dark. Traveling alone in the dark takes extra concentration, and because of the effort, you find yourself falling back on everything that has become a habit. The familiar is your go to. The familiar helps you inch yourself along as you proceed forward into the unknown.

Looking back at my times of right lane-ness, I appreciate that I was taught to travel closer to light. I appreciate that I was taught to look for the guide lines next to me, because since I was unsure of direction, I had to decide to trust that they worked. They did. I was glad I knew there was some sort of protection out there, just off to my right. A place where I could slow down or maybe park in, if I needed to regroup or ask for help. My habits rescued me. While in the dark, my habits, my familiar, became the catalyst to keep rolling forward.

I don't know why we have to have those times where we are forced into the right hand lane. But the one thing I do know is that we can do it. I definitely know that if required, we can travel there. And traveling in the right hand lane will still get us to our destination, as planned.


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SoyJoy, Little Kid Furniture, and the Pressure of Living in a Blonde Environment.

Lisa!

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I said Miss LISA!

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Hop on into the kitchen like a good girl and fetch me a brewski

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if only there were kitties to snuggle

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why? Why? WHY????

Tonight I watched the news. Our local newscast always has some sort of animal-ish story. All About Animals I like to call it. It's usually about doggies or kitties. Tonight's story was about a man who was fishing, and he found an osprey tangled up in fishing line laying beak down in the water. He gave it "mouth to beak" resuscitation. The bird, whose beak by the way was big and long and very very pointy lived and flew away. The resuscitator was on the evening news.

OK. I'm just saying that if I find a passed out osprey laying by the side of the stream someday, I'm not going to be giving it mouth to beak. I'm just not.

So yeah. I got myself out of bed, I'm sitting here with bare feet in my nightgown, so I can put this tidbit on my blog for who knows what reason.

If anyone out there knows why I am compelled to do such a thing, please enlighten me.

Really Big Show

On Saturday I attended the Sister's Quilt Show in Sisters, Oregon with the quilting girls. I'm not sure I've ever blogged about the quilting girls, because,

a. I'm not so sure that they'd appreciate it,

b. there are hippa laws,

c. they might throw me out of the group for it, and

d. they were all there for me when Timmers was dying, so they deserve not to

be thrown under the bus.

I love them and I am guaranteed at least one big belly laugh whenever we get together. Saturday did not disappoint.

At the Sister's quilt show, on every second Saturday in July, the little cowboy community of Sisters, Oregon takes a ba-jillion quilts and hangs them outdoors and quilters (women over 45)come in by the busloads to walk around the streets of Sisters to look at them and act like girls who have finally been cut loose from the restraints of everyday life (lots of high pitch giggling, matching group vests/visors/hats/socks/t-shirts (that have things like "sewing chicks" embroidered on them )) I did a fair amount of sitting this year, and I am an observer by nature, and I am not making this stuff up.

It is now time for a blog visual.

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This is the poster that advertised last year's event.

The water is a quilt. Clever huh?

Here is this year's

The woman is a quilter, feeling free from the restraints of life through quilting. And flowers. You can purchase this poster, and totes, and t-shirts and other marketing paraphernalia at the show. Along with kettle corn. Which I quite enjoyed, by the way, because Betti, (not her real name, however she happens to be one) who is one of the quilting girls DID purchase some hot fresh kettle corn and shared it with the group and I publicly thank her. Betti, as usual, you are generous.

I get sidetracked so easily. Anyway, if you are lucky, at the show you can see some nice things:

But like life itself, with the good, you sometimes get the bad and the ugly.

I don't know what the above is, was, or needs to be.... but what ever it is, was, or needs to be, It was oh so real, it was perplexing, and there were 2 of them. And people were walking a wide circle around them so as not to have any taint rub off on them.

One thing the quilting girls (not to be confused with sewing chicks....we have no identifying or embroidered clothing...) like to do together is go to quilt stores, so we traveled a little south of Sisters and went to 3 stores in Bend. As we were traveling along in the car, minding our own beeswax, this was the conversation that took place:

Boan: Hey! Look at that guy on that bicycle!! He's wearing a loin cloth!

Betti, Barol, Bancy, Bebbie, and Bommacita: What? Where?

Boan: Over there! THERE! (points to the left)

Boan: Barol! Turn the car around! Hurry up! There's a guy with a loin cloth on! We need another look!

Bommacita the realist: That guy doesn't have a loin cloth on. His shorts are just torn.

Boan: Yes it is! IT IS! Barol! Turn your car around.

Mind you now, we're all at least 50 years old. However, Barol turns the car around anyway. Great personal effort was involved. I continue to enjoy Betti's Kettle Corn.

Boan: Barol! Slow down! SLOW DOWN! He's got a LOIN CLOTH on I tell you! Betti! BETTI! Get a Picture of that!

Bommacita the realist: Oh My Gosh! That guy doesn't have a loin cloth on. His shorts are just torn.

Betti unrolls her window. Barol slows the car down. All six over 50 heads look to the right. Camera is put into position. I simultaneously hear the shutter click and see the guy.

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The car goes slower. Necks are craned. Gasps are heard. Bommacita bursts, literally BURSTS into laughter. Other things almost burst right along with it.

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It IS a loincloth. IT IS. It was made out of leather. Suede actually. It had a pocket. What is the thought process when you're making your loincloth that delivers you to the conclusion that you need a pocket on it? What kinds of stuff do you keep in your loincloth pocket? Wouldn't stuff in a loin pocket cause it to not lay smooth and flat? Isn't smooth and flat a loincloth goal that all loiners should keep in mind? Is that not critical for all those involved in the covering of one's loin?

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Who does this? WHO?

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I guess it doesn't matter who. But I'm lucky. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the barefoot guy in the Mohawk from Bend for being so kind when he got on his bike that afternoon, to carefully tuckie his loinie around his seatie to make sure that Bommacita would not have to see anything more than a leg. And it didn't hurt to leave the pocket empty. Thank you guy in the Mohawk. THANK YOU.

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But guy in the mohawk, please, in the future, if you need to feel free from the restraints of life, please just put on some pants, grab a quilt, and run through some flowers with the 3 Sisters Mountains in the background.

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And please stay in Bend because you scare me just a teensy.

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