Mrs. Mary Lee's quilts (finishes)

 I finished some customer quilts! These are quilt tops hand sewn by Mrs. Mary Lee, my mom's old neighbor. Her daughter asked me to long-arm them so they can all be finished and gifted to her children and grandchildren. And probably a few great-grandchildren. Here are pictures that one of the grandchildren took and texted to me so I'd have a record of some of my quilting motifs.

Wait. What? July 7th

Already? The last week has flown by. I'm not really sure when I slept. 

I'm kidding, of course.  There has just been so much going on. First, my very sad news is that our sweet little Cottontop, who has been my constant companion for over 17 years, went to puppy heaven last Wednesday. It's extremely sad to miss him so much, but he was getting in pretty bad shape, blindness from glaucoma, painful hips, confusion. I am happy that he is no longer suffering. Seventeen years is old and we have been expecting it for a long while now. Richard took care of burying him in our backyard. He had made a small wooden coffin a couple of years ago. 

At the time that he was dealing with my little Maltese, I was tutoring English. My student spent several days completing his assignments, testing and learning test-taking skills. I kept him pretty busy, poor kid. Today was his final and I'm anxiously awaiting the results.

Thursday I left for my modern guild quilt retreat. What fun! I had such a great time. I completed one top and almost finished another. Plus, I completed my "mow the lawn" strip for the Sugaridoo BOM. (I'll be so happy when it's complete.) And I made a couple of postcards for a sister, which I can't find at the moment.  The retreat took me all the way to Sunday. 

Monday, I went to a guild meeting and gave a presentation on thread-painting. That went badly. It also happened to be Will, our oldest son's birthday. They invited us to their home for supper and cake. Their kids and grandies were also there and we were reminded how noisy a house full of kids and teens can be. And be grateful to return to the quiet of home.

But aren't they cute?

CQG Sewing Room Tour 2020

The Cotton Quilters' Guild had such a great time last year on our sewing room tour that we put another one together this year. It's an easy event that is great fun.  We went to four homes this time since five was a push last year. 

 Starting at Mrs. Lee's house, we appreciated the large, open space that she gets to create in. She is a fabulous painter so it's no surprise that her quilts are this pretty.

It was an easy jaunt to Longbridge and Ingrid's place. This little cottage is filled to the brim with antiques, collectibles, and quilts. This was my second time visiting (I got a private tour a few weeks ago) and I am still amazed at how many things I missed. Ingrid knows what she likes and surrounds herself in them, which makes for an inspiring space in which to create.

 After lunch we were off to visit Mrs. Priscilla's house. Here we had a grand tour. Priscilla is known for saving, repurposing, and upcycling old fabrics. Whether a skirt, linens, feed sacks, tea napkins, or some other fabric, she finds a way to incorporate them into her sewing and quilting. She told us she likes "frou frou" which means lacy, fancy, fluffed, gathered, whatever girly word you can come up with. It wasn't necessary to tell us, it's obvious throughout the house and in the number of pillows piled on every bed, chair and sofa. 

And finally, Irma's house and dessert. Her sewing room is a bedroom turned modern sewing haven. Recently retired, she decided to upgrade to all new digital last-minute machines. Maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but not much considering that she was a computer expert for the school system. Do I sound a bit jealous? I might be. 

One of the best reasons to visit other people's creative spaces is that you can find inspiration to create in your own space, wherever that may be. Another is to find ways to make your space better. At each of the four homes, I found something that I liked or that can help me to work more efficiently. It's especially interesting to see how different our spaces are, yet we have so much in common.

Baton Rouge. I-10 Mississippi River Bridge. 5:00.

https://fr.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horace_Wilkinson_Bridge

Once a month I find myself on a country drive wild ride to one of my favorite places. The BRMQG meeting on the first Monday at 6 p.m. Which means I find myself on the I-10 bridge trying to get into Baton Rouge at 5 p.m. 

Okay, so maybe the "wild" part does not happen while sitting on the bridge, absolutely not moving for minutes at a time. (Unless you consider the bouncing that the bridge does, but I refuse to think about that.) Still, it's pretty crazy to be in fighting traffic to go into the city at that time of day, right? 

https://fr.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horace_Wilkinson_Bridge

Then there's always that guy, in some fancy, expensive vehicle, whose time is much more valuable than anyone else's time. That guy who can't will not wait his turn in line. Always. Every time. I often think I'd like love, LOVE, to get in that one open lane and, not zoom past everyone else, no not me--I'll sit my place in line. But I want to sit my place in line in that open lane and slow down block that guy. I know, it's sounds rather close to road rage. And rude. And mean. And a hundred other uglies. But really? 

Doesn't everyone who sits in line want to block that guy? Really? Don't you want to block that guy and every other guy who zooms past the mile long line of cars waiting their turn and then dips into our line way up there? He's going where we're going. 

https://fr.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horace_Wilkinson_Bridge

He's going to that I-10/110 elevated road that bottlenecks right in the curved on-ramp. Of course, he knows exactly how all this goes down. He's probably here everyday, not just once a month. Still. He could should wait his turn, don't you think? 


Ah, but! I sit bouncing on the bridge refusing to consider the safety insanity of it all and create scenarios for that guy. And every other guy/gal idiot who zooms past. 

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1c/BR_Mississippi.jpg

Some are out to save the world from giant ants. You know, the ants that are attacking downtown Baton Rouge and, therefore, jeopardizing my own safety. In mere minutes I'll be exiting at Dalrumple and the giant ants will be arriving at the same time, so really that guy idiot is saving me! See there, I am important. So important, in fact, that the one rescuer of the world is right now on this bridge racing toward the stinging creatures, prepared to suffer life and limb for my sake. Thank you, that guy idiot.

Please, by all means, go to the front of this mile-long line on this jerky, bouncy bridge. Here, allow me the honor of creating a space for you to squeak in ever so closely to my front bumper. No, no, don't fret, the guy behind me knows the deal and would never hopefully not rear-end me when I brake to avoid your slamming into me. Go, please! Save the world! The world loves you, rescuer idiot!

Papa -- a hard loss

Back in the beginning of April, I wrote this article about Richard's dad, who had become bedridden and losing his battle with COPD and dementia. We lost him last week. He struggled for weeks unable to breathe, though his memory had a few days of clarity. He was able to recognize those who visited and say goodbye. It was heart-wrenching, but having the closure and knowing he was ready must make his loss easier for Mrs. Carolyn, his wife, and Richard and Steve, their two sons. 

Mama and Papa

We spent as much time as possible with him because we wanted someone to be with Mrs. Carolyn when the time came. Waiting while a loved one slowly passes away is difficult enough without having to face it all alone. So Rich and I made sure one of us was sitting in their house or within just a couple of minutes drive. Mostly we tried to help her in dealing with hospice, company, family, and her own grief.

He'd been in a semi-coma for a week when, finally, on Wednesday morning he took his last breath. I must say that first time that he stopped breathing for several moments was frightening. Not that I'm afraid of death, but because I had promised to call the family. But that was just a warning of what would come in less than an hour, and we were able to gather everyone to their house. 

Richard's parents, Richard Sr. and Carolyn; my parents, Riley
and Ellen (their 50th anniversary); and Richard and me.

People in our area have held wake services for the dead for centuries. Although it's rarely followed now, the Cajun French people of Louisiana held "the wake" throughout the night and into the morning when the funeral is held. Papa had made several things clear and "an all-night wake" (meaning a traditional service) was an absolute if we were going to follow his wishes. Of course, we would comply: a rosary, a mass, a burial in the plot he had prepared 20+ years ago. He had always made things simple. 

Friday we said our last goodbyes and prayed the funeral rites. Papa had been raised and remained Catholic for his entire life. It's quite calming to know exactly what to expect during a Catholic mass. Somehow it's easier to mourn. Father Sklar, who has been assigned to us for only a few weeks, had visited the family several times in the last month and celebrated with a beautiful eulogy. 

And so the last of the five Marcotte brothers is gone.