No, actually I am not quilting right this minute. I am outside planting asparagus. Or azalea. Or strawberries. It's.... SUNNY!!! Kind of hot, actually.
Yesterday my parents dropped by, pulled from the tensions of (not) packing in lovely Boston, where they found an apartment with WINDOWS, a view of things other than large buildings, a good-sized patio, and about half the square footage they had intended. They were up (for them. Down for me) in Salem, NH, buying drugs (well, cheap cigarettes, but 'drugs' sounds so much more respectable). I whined until they drove the extra 40 minutes
and it stopped raining.
We sat on the porch and watched my birdfeeder. Blackflies bit my mother. Not my father, who was wearing darker colors, and not me. Hummingbirds fought. Steve, the Evening Grosbeak (in fact three Steves, possibly one was this Adam people keep fixing him up with?), Roberta and her lovely husband Darryl, the RoseBreasted Grosbeaks, Inigo the bunting, possibly his wife Emmy... all the colorful people. It was good. My mom thinks I need to get out more often.
I taught Katie, the daughter of Paul the contractor, to spin and sent her home with a borrowed Comet and a pile of Romney. Another one down, I hope.
Either Norma or Julia told me how Bloglines worked. Thank you. I think it is good. Until I get more people onto the list, I can't publish my BlogRoll. A new way to diss people you love.