I'd Rather Be Quilting than Cruel

I know most are wondering, when is she going to quilt again?

Well I am quilting here and there.

We had a BYOB party a few Saturdays back. Funny I enjoyed it just as much as when BYOB used to be Bring Your Own Booze. On this day it was Bring Your Own Binding. The best was no hangover!

It was a great day, I had several American-living-Ireland friends visiting; it was a good mixture of quilters and nonquilters, always making the chit chat interesting. Not the same as playing quarters in beer pints, but we aren't fuddie-duddies either! Stitching and bitching. In the end, there was even a few nonquilters fondling fabric and asking about patchwork classes.

Myself, I have a variety of quilts in progress. Let's see, I have a thankyou quilt postcard for a lovely friend who made me lunch, oh, two months ago?? That goes to the top of the list. I have a baby quilt simply needing binding. Three charity quilts needing binding. One twin baby top needing quilting and needing a matching top for twin brother. Still enjoying the Country Club installments from the magazine. And alas, I have started two Christmas wall hangings for family gifts. With any luck this weekend, I'll combine the camera and my projects for a little show and tell.

Summer is over and fall is here. Work has been demanding to say the least. Family life too. But I feel a resurgence. We struggled with a car malfunction, bid farewell to our aupair and produced our best issue yet. Many restless nights. But with the return of the school routine, I feel rejuvinated. Two weeks in and the laundry pile queue is manageable, morning walks awaken me and a reasonable cycle of work is taking shape.

With this newfound peace, my anxiety-driven nocturnal activity is diminishing. I wish I could say the same for Babydoll. Her anxiety and excitement for school reminds me of my early school days; she inherited my sleepwalking. The other night I heard her in the hall. I thought she was going to DH downstairs and he thought she was going to me upstairs. An hour later we found her here:

She generally denies sleepwalking, so this time I captured proof. DH thought it was cruel taking a picture. Was it?

After sharing some of my infamous sleepwalking excursions, I thought she might come to accept her own slumbering ways. As we sat telling sleep stories on the sofa, I noticed fingerprints, that could only come from ninja turtles or my acrobatic daughters, smudged on the very large mirror hanging above us. The mirror is large enough that, if toppled, it could fatally wound one or both of the girls. This offence of theirs is very rare and they know that the fear of it turns me red with rage.

Babydoll spied my face about to erupt and she thought quickly.

"Mom, I'm thinking that might have been done while sleepwalking."

Nah, cruel is actually posting the photograph.