Long Dry Spell

Nothing is wrong. I am just not moved to writing anything fresh and interesting. Life is good, but repetitious, predictable, and dare I say it, boring! (Make no mistake, I love boring, boring is very satisfying.)

The kids are great. I love Logan's observations: "It smells like snow!" or "You should have seen the pattern the birds made when they flew!" And Ben is pensive, quiet, and kind. When I am making my bed, without a word, he walks to the other side and helps. When I drop something, he tells me I should let him pick it up. The crazy schedule has let up a bit for now and we can all breathe a bit before it resumes in January.

Quilting continues to consume me, but I fear I bore everyone around me with it. Finished Rick and Kathy's quilts and will soon mail them. Meanwhile I continue to work on hand quilting Rachel's quilt.

Still doing that veggie thing. Picked up an enormous butternut squash yesterday which will be a Thanksgiving dinner contribution tomorrow when we go to Amanda and Ash's with the greater local clan. I'm bringing three variations on the theme: mashed squash with creamed cheese and pineapple, roasted savory squash with sage, garlic, bacon, pine nuts, and Parmesan, and candied squash with apples.

When I'm not quilting, doing domestic duty, or going to various club meetings, I read. Lately, I've been reading everything written by David McCullough. I don't know how I missed him when he was winning Pulitzers, but I've just discovered him. So far, I've read: Truman; John Adams; The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris; 1776; and The Johnstown Flood. I'm now about half through Mornings on Horseback and will next read The Path Between the Seas: the Creation of the Panama Canal, 1870-1914 and The Great Bridge: the Epic Story of the Building of the Brooklyn Bridge. And that will do it for David McCullough. I love the way I am transported to the time he writes about, so if you'll excuse me, I think I'll return to the late nineteenth century.