On Christmas Eve, I broke two bones in my right wrist after taking a fall on our local ice rink. It is unclear when I will be able to sew or take photos on my DLSR again. My cast comes off on February 1 and I will start physical therapy. Hopefully, the recovery will be complete and speedy.
If you are the quilty sort you might enjoy this little poem my dad found on a family member's FB page.
'Twas the night before Christmas,
And the quilts were not made.
The threads were all tangled, the cookies delayed.
The stocking weren't hung, the pantry was bare.
The poor weary Quilter, was tearing her hair.
Stacks of fat quarters, tipped over in streams.
Visions of Log Cabins, had turned into dreams.
When what to her wondering eyes should appear,
But a bus full of quilters with all of their gear.
They went straight to work with just a few mutters,
Sorting and stitching and brandishing cutters.
The patterns emerged from all of the clutter,
Like magic the fabrics arranged in a flutter.
Log Cabins, Lone Stars, Flying Geese & Bear Tracks
Each quilt was a beauty-even the backs.
Her house how it twinkled, her quilts how they glowed.
The cookies were baking, the stockings were sewed.
Their work was all done, so they folded their frames,
And packed up their needles, without giving their names.
They boarded the bus, and checked the next address.
More quilts to be made, another quilter in distress.
She heard one voice echo, as they drove out of sight,
Happy quilting to all and to all a good night!