Earlier this morning, for whatever reason, we couldn’t connect to the internet.
RUNNING AROUND WITH HANDS WAVING IN THE AIR!!!
Actually, no. There was no panic (well, maybe a squidge) and definitely no running around waving our hands. Because that would be silly. And ineffective. But primarily silly.
Lack of internet was annoying at first. We’d gotten up early (probably because Alex and his sleeping-over friend got up BEFORE FIVE A. M. IN THE MORNING AND QUITE VOCAL ABOUT IT, so Bill and I were awake and up early, too. Bill noticed the lack of internet first, and I tried a few different things to try to restore it (unplug this, unplug that, plug this back in, wait, stop staring at the little lights, leave the room, Jayne, be patient, plug that back in. Nope. Restart this. Restart that. Just. Walk. Away.) (Thanks, Mere, for your help anyway!)
I had the French Fridays with Dorie post to finish that I should have posted, yes, yesterday, when it was still FRIDAY, but no, that wasn’t going to happen this morning, either.
So, I went in the kitchen and made a triple batch of pancakes – half plain and half blueberry, with a few pancakes in the shapes of their initials for the kids – and we ate, and the children sang my culinary praises. That’s always a good way to start the day.
Then, figuring I should ride the crest of that love-wave as long as possible, I asked the kids to bring up the stacks of books that have been on the floor, surrounding two sides of a big chair, for months now. I’d removed them from the big bookcase downstairs to make room for my sewing stuff, but still hadn’t found them a new home.
So the kids, working assembly-line-style, moved the books from the basement to the living room for me. I pulled all my quilting and sewing books (and anything else related) from one of our huge corner book cases – those will go downstairs, where it makes more sense – and I’ve dusted the shelves and re-filled them with the books from the basement.
And it’s been like rediscovering treasure as well.
I’ve got quilting and sewing books that were my grandmother’s…books that were Bill’s mom’s…and my own stuff.
There’s a photo album of pillows and quilts and wall-hangings I made YEARS ago, when I was doing a lot of that sort of thing…and a ring binder (I really love this) of fabric swatches glued to pages beside photos of completed quilts that Bill’s mom had made. And her braided rugs. And clippings from magazines of other quilt patterns…little articles, notes, instructions, templates.
Diamonds. Rubies. Sapphires.
Forgive me if, again, I am not writing about food.
Sometimes my bare feet wander out of the kitchen and into a different room. Sometimes the cauldron is empty, the spoon is at rest, and the fire cold.
Sometimes I would rather play with cottons and wools, velvets and flannels and satins, and even – because I have them and I can’t throw them out – cotton/polyester blends.
I’m thinking this might be a good day to scan in pictures of some of the stuff I’ve done, just so I can show you. And to remind myself of them as well.
But that will have to be later – Bill’s in the music/computer/where-the-scanner-is room playing RUSH tunes on his electric guitar. (Did you know Alex is actually named after Alex Lifeson? No, he isn’t, I’m just kidding.) The amp is more than moderately cranked, and if I open the door to that room I will probably lose all my hearing and most of my hair.
And I’ll get that French Fridays with Dorie post up, too. It’s a yummy one.
But for now?
I have books that need to go downstairs, where they belong.
That’s what I’m doing.
And what are you up to on this fine Saturday?