Ponder what you say? If I only had a brain. Why ponder at all you may say? Because once, long ago in a place far, far, away people came to me to make decisions and I would tell them what to do and it was good They admired my ability to organize work problems...and they told me so. The thing I may not want to ponder too much is how long ago that was. I was walking on the treadmill watching a chapter of the Sopranos on A&E and waiting for my almost 24 year old son to return from a Doctors appointment(it's allergy season to the max-he needs an inhaler poor guy) when I got to thinking about life...pondering, as it were, why it is that I can't stick to a single thing, finish a single thing, or concentrate on one thing till completion or basically organize anything. If I were my previously organized self, I would have planned how many fat quarters I had and in fact planned a quilt. Funny thing is, if it's a gift, I can organize and finish. What's up with that?
I think it has a little to do with letting go, which is a recurring theme in my life but would be really stupid in this case. The possibility exists that it had something to do with lack of concentration and a return to child-like behavior(shut up back there). The problem was I didn't really have a childhood and maybe I'm looking for it now. Case in point-Those stars I've been making. They're fun and pretty fast and I would love to have a piece on the wall like that but instead I justify my fun by saying I'll give it as a gift. Somewhere in the straw that passes for brains I have convinced myself that it's ok to make someone a gift as long as the someone isn't me. I thought for a while that it was some hormonal side effect and it turns out that it's just...well...me. I fear being happy. That comes from childhood and serious major lies and disappointments. You would think at this age I could get a grip on that but most of the time I'm really afraid of happiness. Imagine me talking about happiness with my head down and in a whisper in case the gods hear me and shoot me a wake-up kick in the ass. Imagine someone telling a table full of people that they never had a car accident. I would have to clamp my hand over their mouth and make them say sorry out loud three times. That's just asking for a Karmic slap in the head. So along with being finishing challenged, I'm superstitious. Gad...color me hopeless.
Back to the stars- in making them I rounded up all the fat quarters I could find in the Closet of Shame and realized that over the course of the last year I have dramatically reduced the fat quarter stash to nearly nothing(again..settle down you) Not that I don't have any. There are many of them but not the ones in a packet from Keepsake. I used to save them for the illusive shrouded-in-fog someday. Now I find that I have used and given so many as gifts that there is not only a dent in the stash but a gaping hole where all my interesting fabric used to be. Horrors! I could have belonged to Judy Laquidara's stash busting group and I didn't even know it. I may try to alleviate this sad situation soon by visiting places on trips and re-stocking the stash while trying to avoid the family drama. The only thing there to ponder is how low I will hide my head in shame and whisper.. Yippee!
As an after thought I wanted to answer the comments about having a cook-it is the best and he's very good at it. He worked his way to a Masters Degree in Engineering in a delicatessen. His potato salad alone makes me swoon-not to mention him
Libby made a comment about having wanted pen pals as a kid. She's right. This reminds me of that very thing. It's very much like having pen pals and in so many places-blogging is very much fun.