As I was walking to the bus stop this evening after getting off from my good Government Job, my thoughts were rolling around in my head on what I would do once I got home. I remember when (it has only been 3 or 4 months) that when I got home from work, I would run to the sewing room and work on a new quilt or bag. Nothing short of feeding the family, could stop me from doing something in the sewing room. Now when I get home, I fall in the bed and pass out until it is time to go to work again.
Blogging was (is) my outlet of writing about my quilting on what was on my mine or what is happing with my quilting friends. I would stay up until after 1:00 in the morning writing my blog after quilting. I could not wait until the next Madam Sam’s newest blog hop so I could bring out more of my fanciful ideas, read all the blogs of people I only know by their work on fantastic quilts and works of art to my soul. Reading about new family members, cats, dogs and what is on their mines.
What is this all about? I am getting old (aren’t we all). Three or 4 months ago, I felt like I was still in my 30’s, nothing has change much, other then I am in my mid 50’s (I have to ask the kids how old I am sometimes, since I forget). Could that be the onset of Alzheimer’s. Every time I think about doing something in the sewing room, I start then stop, then start again, then say the hell with it and go to bed. Since my knee surgery in late January, I have a case of arthritis. I cannot get on the floor and sandwich my quilts, I can barely walk up the stairs, and getting out of a chair is not as easy any more. I even had to buy me one of those 17” inch tall toilets and hitting the handicap stalls when I am out.
This has been my rambling thoughts of the day. I am in the sewing room now putting binding on two quilts, cutting up fabric for a basket class this weekend. I am not feeling old anymore. When I look in the mirror, my hair is 3 shades of naturel color, what ever the last color I put in and gray and it thinning. The face is the same, but the chine is sagging. The eyes are bright, but have little bags under them. I am still me, the ever loving Slower Quilter, ageing or not, will always be a quilter.
I am back, so please keep a watch out for me.
The Slower Quilter (Felicia)