Blast from the Past

While I was on my break my guy and I went to the Sunday farmer's market in Clermont, and stumbled upon a small car show in a parking lot there. This 1967 Impala was identical to mine back in the day. My first car was an ambulance in the military; this one was my second when I got home. Mom owned it and gave it to me. Imagine parallel parking this boat.

There were a lot of people there so I couldn't get many pics, but it was fun. We love to look at cars.

This Jag was my dream car when I was a teenager (it's even the same green color as the one I lusted after.)

The wood dash nearly made me swoon. I knew I'd never get one (and I was right) but it was okay to dream. I went after and got the biggest dream of my life in 1998, so that made up for all the Jags I didn't get. :)

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Old Loves & Such

My guy kindly bought me my favorite Chinese take out the other night, and my fortune cookie offered up an interesting story starter: This sounds sweet, right? Only the first thing I thought of was an old love coming back from the dead . . . . must be October. In other lovely news, my favorite hand-dyed thread artist, Lorraine from Colour Complements , is moving her business from Etsy to her own web site. Many of my favorite sellers on Etsy are leaving due to the whole "free shipping" coercion debacle, which has also soured me on the site. To show support I did a little shopping at Lorraine's web site and got in these: I love her threads and trims; you simply can't buy anything like them anywhere. Her work makes my specialty thread box look like a treasure chest: At night I'm spending just as hour working on quilting the scrap project runner, and I'm making slow progress: I'll keep quilting the runner while I try to decide on a design for t...

Fell Off the Wagon

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T-minus Day

This was our little Thanksgiving dinner last year, when it was just the three of us. Time keeps whittling down my favorite holiday; this year it will be just me and my guy, and we likely won't even have a turkey.* That will be a first in 35 years. I feel about Thanksgiving the way other people do about Christmas, and while it's a lot of work it's my favorite holiday. Of all the Thanksgivings I've had in the past sixty years, only three were truly terrible: one when I was a kid that I don't talk about (#1 most miserable); the time I roasted two turkeys together and hosted fifteen people whom I cooked for and served with zero help (the largest and #2 most miserable); and the one I spent in basic training (the #3 most miserable.) I have no pictures of any of those, thank heavens. In addition to doing all the cooking I'm the one who takes all the pictures, washes all the dishes and puts away all the leftovers. I suppose no one else cares because to them it...

Valerean

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