Remember the Nursery Rhyme
"There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very very good,
But when she was bad, she was horrid."
The Shirley Temple look was still fashionable when I was a little girl. Curls seemed to be desirable. I had the blond hair but the stick straightness seemed most unfair.
Coupled with the fact that my mother lied to me, telling me if I ate those dry horrible crusts off the bread, my hair would grow curls.
I believed her, & in later years I told her I thought she had committed child abuse, or at least cruelty, by lying to me, & she had further decieved me, by telling me my hair was getting curly.
It was a strange fact that the usual childhood accidents that befell me were all deemed to be my 'fault'. I had a broken bone, from a fall, yes, my fault. I had a severed fingertop
well it was almost severed, someone stuffed it back on, & just bandaged it up. It aches today, & I suspect it now has arthritis. It was, of course, my 'fault'.
The almost skinned off heel - I'll take the blame for that. On & on it went.
Of course, the truth was, they were all just accidents. They were nobody's 'fault'.
When my children had their share of childhood accidents, I tended to quickly tell them it was my fault. Though of course if I was not present, I couldn't take the blame, but I kept assuring them it was not their fault. Surely, an accident is just that. No one needs to be 'at fault'.
I quickly reassure my grandchildren, it is no one's fault. Accidents happen. That is they way of life.
Today's odd sight was an elderly woman, dressed up smartly for the winter chills. Woollen trousers, nice woollen coat. Woolly scarf. The surprise to me, was her almost violent, Leopard skin patterned handbag, with leopard skin patterned shoes. I kept wondering what could possess an elderly woman to choose an animal print for handbag & shoes.
Our Adult Granddaughter has now got ChickenPox. Passed on by her small brother no doubt. She is very spotted, & very miserable. It certainly looks as if she is much worse then her brother had been.
He is well over his bout, has been back at school, & is bouncing all over the place. He & Granddog Oscar were having a game of tag, when we went to visit.
This is the flimsy of "Rainbow for Joey-Lee". A nickname for our daughter. I was making it in secret for her, as I know she just loves brights. She visited us yesterday, & caught me with the quilt on the table being basted, ready for quilting. She was overjoyed when she found out it is hers. Now I have to get busy quilting & get it bound & completed.
I played around with placement of blocks, & in the end just 'went for it.' I rather wish I had looked at a photo of placement before I sewed it all together. Never mind, I know it will be loved & enjoyed.
It is not Art, it is Utility. Combined with Love. No idea how I am going to quilt it, but it wont be anything fancy.
John Denver, This Old Guitar.