I was thinking earlier - what can I share for Made it Monday on the blog? - and realized that I haven't really done much making. I do need to make a baby boy quilt. Or maybe just an afghan. There is less hating the process with the afghan. I really dislike almost everything about making quilts, except picking out fabric and the end product. I really like the end product and I don't want to pay for someone else to make one so I make them and deal with the misery for a while. Afghans are more enjoyable. I pick out yarn, a pattern, and go to town. I can do things while I work on a blanket. I can't do much more than watch television when I'm cutting or piecing a quilt. Anyways, that was a rabbit trail.
Not much making happening around Casa de Hannita. That was the point.
I survived, dare I say, really enjoyed a women's weekend with the Quakers a few weeks back. The pictures from last Wednesday, except for the last one, were taken there. I bought a sleeping bag and wee flashlight for the occasion and stayed in a cabin by myself. The facilitator was really good. If only I could remember her name... But I enjoyed chatting with her the last meal she had with us before she left for home. The focus, at least for me, of the weekend was self-care. Amazingly enough, even though I teach a class on it, I don't do this well. I keep having to wrestle with questions like what do I want to do with my life and what do I fear and that sort of thing. It feels daunting. I keep thinking about moving to New Mexico. I love New Mexico. However, not much in the way of higher education in New Mexico. It is a depressingly slim group of options for work or school. There are probably more institutions of higher learning in Chicago than there are in the entire state of NM. I could be wrong but my investigation thus far does seem to support that statement. And that was another rabbit trail.
Speaking of rabbit trails, I present stupid baby bunny:
On another church-y note. I would just like to state that the problem with going to church with old people is that they die. You get attached and then, sooner or later, they up and die on you! The audacity! A few weeks ago a lovely older gentleman that I had liked passed away. He had had an infection in a hip replacement, went into the hospital, had suffered a stroke I believe and never woke up. It was very sudden. He was a trombone player and at his memorial meeting several trombone players played for him. This makes me happy and sad at the same time: