The Blue Nun comments: 62

Oh, I am tired. The studio is still in disarray, but it's coming along, slowly but surely. I've had several friends in town this week which has been so, so nice — and so nice to get out of the house a bit, too. After dinner every day, I look around the house for Clover. Every day, she is already up on the bed, waiting for me. It's so hilarious. When I go up, she's all, "Yeah! Yeah! C'mon in! It's nice here!" If she had hands she'd be patting the bed, I think. We sit on the Ollalieberry quilt and watch TV. She lays her chin on my ankles while I knit. When Andy gets home, usually around 8:30 p.m., she goes charging back downstairs to see him. But then she comes back up and fishes her bone out of her toy box and chews on it. Not before. Every night, the same schedule. She's a very routine-oriented dog, but we are a pretty routine-oriented family. I like it when the days are the same. Two nights ago, I finished this sweater. I'll post officially about it when I get some buttons on it (but here is the Ravelry link for details). The photo above is its pre-blocked state. I put it on the blocking board (here's some blocking info) this morning.

I had many, many random and IKEA-exhausted thoughts that I didn't make note of while knitting this sweater, but here are a few: 1) I feel like it took me forever to make this thing, but I see that it was only about a month. Felt like longer. 2) I don't think I ever really did get the yarn right for this one. The yarn I used was fine, but at the end of the day I think in my mind I wanted to see this sweater in something more rustic-y — something with more of a halo and less of a twist, maybe even in a more organic-y, neutral color. 3) The proportions are unusual, and I can't tell what I think about that. I might really like the way this super-deep yoke looks. Or it might look odd (i.e.: not fit right). I'm not sure. My gauge was right on. There was no measurement given for the yoke or the total length, from neck to bottom; mine came out to be 17" (for the 24 months size), which seems really long, though my length for the side seam was exactly right. So, we'll see. There's something sort of . . . ecclesiastical . . . about this sweater. Does anyone else think that? Why do I think that? It reminds me of a Gothic cathedral. Which I like.

Another Green Curry Shrimp comments: 42

Thank you, truly, for all of your very kind comments on the studio (and on the booklist, and everything else around here [or lack thereof — I've been so busy!] lately). I read all of them, of course (and so does Andy), and I never fail to be amazed at how your words, individually or collectively, change and enrich the experience I am having. The things you say always show me things about myself that I didn't know (I have cried [and busted out laughing, of course] many, many times while reading comments). But I'm also so very moved by how . . . tender . . . kind . . . generous . . . people can be. Every day. It humbles me completely. I don't know — I don't have words today. I just want to say thank you.

I should also thank air conditioning on Monday, the new season of Psych ("Spencer, we don't have time to watch you make a snowman out of mashed potatoes!"), The Avett Brothers, and Thai food, who have all been my constant companions this week, as I continue to wade through ten years of old paperwork: binders full of invoices from the boutique (I used to co-own a boutique), fourteen notebooks with half-written-on pages interspersed throughout, piles of copies of several years' worth of Paypal receipts from when I used to print out a copy of every order for my own records (not anymore), a Hefty bag filled with ribbon (apparently I've kept every single one that's come into this house in the past ten years), enormous boxes full of old sewing patterns, various half-completed and totally abandoned projects. Agh. I am overjoyed about the studio (and, for those you have asked, I will give you the details about it as soon as it is all fixed back up and I can think again) in part because it is forcing me to pare down; several times while going through the stuff that has to go back into it I have suspected that there is a part of me that also would've been happy living in an igloo, with nothing but a bearskin and a tin-can chimney. Andy is the opposite. He is a Keeper. I think he still owns bookmarks from 7th grade. (?) (I don't know where that came from.)

But anyway, as I clean, I listen to all 111 songs by Scotty and Seth (and Bob, and sometimes Joe) on the iPod (and then I start them again), and occasionally I go out and check my TiVo queue and see if another episode of Tommy Tang's Easy Thai Cooking has been recorded. It's not the best cooking show — he doesn't give any measurements, the recipes are not available on-line (as far as I can tell), and, most-importantly, the camera stays maddeningly level with the table he is cooking at, and rarely shows you how it looks in the pot at each stage. I need to see into the pot. Seeing into the pot is the only . . . nevermind. But I watch anyway, since cooking shows are totally relaxing to me (I am also loving French Food at Home). TTETC is the only dedicated Thai cooking show I've ever heard of, and Tommy is really friendly and smiley and fun to hang out with. After the show I try to go over to the Asian market and get whatever stuff Tommy just told me to get (like palm sugar). And then I try to make something for dinner. Like, once again, green curry shrimp.

Megan, my love, this one is for you:

Simplified Green Curry Shrimp (Version 3.0)
Serves 2-4

2 14-oz cans light coconut milk
1 tablespoon green curry paste
3 or 4 kaffir lime leaves, if you have them (my Asian grocery store sells these frozen, and I keep them in the freezer until I use them)
A squirt of lemongrass paste, if you have it
1 red bell pepper, julienned then diced (no ribbing)
1/2 eggplant (Japanese, if you can get it), cut into 1" pieces
1 head of broccoli, cut into florets (I didn't have any broccoli in this photo, but it's really good in here)
1/2 lb raw shrimp, peeled and deveined and cut into 1" pieces
1 tablespoon fish sauce
1-2 tablespoons of palm sugar (or brown sugar)
1 cup frozen green peas
A handful of ripped up basil leaves

In a wok, simmer the creamy part of one can of coconut milk and the curry for a few minutes, until the curry is fragrant and releasing its oil. Add about 1/2 of the rest of that can of coconut milk. Add kaffir lime leaves (keep them whole so you can fish them out when the curry is finished), red pepper, eggplant, and broccoli. Add about 1/2 teaspoon of salt here (I do, at least). Add 1/2 of the second can of coconut milk. Simmer for about ten minutes. Add the rest of the coconut milk, then add the shrimp and peas just simmer until shrimp are fully cooked (just a couple of minutes at most). Add basil, stir, and serve over hot jasmine rice.

I don't know how authentically Thai this is, since I really just made it up from looking at several recipes, watching Tommy T.,  and trying about 400 times to make this taste like it does in the restaurants. It's still not totally there, but it was pretty darn good, if I do say.

A New Floor comments: 303

Friday was so great.

It's strange how much I love watching the Home being Improved.

I got a little emotional about it, actually. When we bought this house ten years ago, we had just come out of a truly terrible two years during which we'd moved to a city where we barely knew anyone, I'd almost immediately been in a serious accident, had six surgeries in six months, my parents had sold their house and moved across the country to be near us (and my sister and her family), and my father had passed away. So many things felt so suddenly broken or lost. I remember thinking that, like others in my family at that time, I was a refugee in my own life; almost everything in it (except, of course, for Andy) was new and strange and sad, and I felt utterly vulnerable, like a piece of dandelion fluff that might easily be lost to a strong wind. I barely recognized myself, or anything else. We had gotten married just the year before. Our wedding picture hung on the wall in our room, across from the bed. I remember staring at the picture and telling myself, over and over, "That is you. That is still you. That girl is still you." I told myself that every single day.

We started house-hunting in February 2000, after about two and a half years of living in Portland, and we didn't really enjoy it at all. I was surprised, because I had wanted my own house all of my life, but when it came time to find one, we weren't really in the right shape for hunting. Nothing on the market in our neighborhood (and we wanted to stay in our neighborhood) was even close to being right, and, if it was "right" it wasn't affordable. It was dreary and pouring rain outside. I just wanted the whole thing to be over with as quickly as possible so I could lay down.

A few weeks into it, this one came on the market. It definitely wasn't updated, but it wasn't really a fixer, either. Apparently there had been one couple before us that had gotten there first and had really wanted it, but as they pulled their car out of the driveway they bashed into the rock wall that edges the (very skinny and slopey) driveway; they drove away and never came back. We saw it immediately after them, and it was one of those things where you walk in and after one nanosecond you're like, "Oh, okay — this is fine — where do I sign?" It was clear from the front door that this one would be fine. But then when we went to the back and saw the studio (which was built as an addition by the previous owner who used it as a painting studio, and which is why we've just always called it "the studio"), it was obvious to both of us that this was a room that could help build a new life. You wouldn't necessarily think that one room could do that. But oh! how it did. At times even this (average-sized) house felt much too big and overwhelming (and we had almost nothing in the way of furniture, or curtains, or curtain rods, or pictures, or . . . anything that we needed to fill a whole house). But the studio was my first real room of my own. And it became my world, at a time when the real one outside seemed too scary and uncertain.

Cleaning out this room this week, ten years since arriving in it, has brought it all back to me, somehow. Those particular days feel so far away now. They left behind, after all was said and done, a residue of overwhelming gratitude. Our life has changed so much here. Being in this room with Andy again, moving, cleaning, building, dreaming, figuring, fixing, fussing, listening to music, talking, laughing, watching him. I love it so much. We have done this a lot by now, in many different spaces together. But this room is special, and both of us feel that. I leaned out the kitchen window and said to Floor Installer Guy #1 as he was cutting a board with the big saw on Friday, "This is one of the best days of my entire life!!!"

He goes, "Wow."

[Cue Andy sputtering.]

When the floor was in and the Guys were cleaning up, I said excitedly to Floor Installer Guy #2, "Don't you think this the prettiest room in the whole wide world?!?"

Photo by Andy Paulson, Master Mechanic.

He goes, "Er . . . top ten" [more giggling from Andy]. Guy #1, who was outside, said, "Does anyone know that there is a dog out here?" indicating Clover Meadow Paulson, who was outside sniffing around unsupervised near the wide-open back gate. I glanced up and said, "Oh, yeah, but I can't watch her because I only have eyes for my new floor!" [looking around smiling, pointing out new floor to Guys].

!!!

So. So. Wonderful.

On Saturday, I sat in a state of bewildered awe/borderline catatonia while Andy built all of the furniture. He insisted that it would be easier without my help. SPECTACULAR. Then he went back to work yesterday (Sunday) to "get some rest" (har). I started putting things away yesterday and got about one-third of the way done. I still can't believe this is my room.

The Furniture Comes in Boxes comments: 105

I bought shelves, a desk, and a kitchen island yesterday.

Upon receiving approval for the transaction, my credit card promptly burst into flames.

I had everything delievered to the middle of the living room, in which there was already a bunch of my stuff that wouldn't fit in Andy's office. The cat spent the rest of the day sitting alternately on almost every single one of the boxes and staring at me accusingly: "You said we were NEVER MOVING AGAIN." When I came downstairs this morning, the house smelled just like an IKEA cinnamon roll. You know how that cinnamon smell gets into everything there? I think it's the smell of my happiness and excitement.

When Andy came home after work and saw the pile of furniture to be put together this weekend, he made a noise I can't quite describe. It was sort of like the sound that your printer would make if you tried to send a piece of laminate flooring through it instead of paper. I sat on the couch and ate a bowl of cherry-vanilla ice cream with an espresso spoon, feigning innocence (and deafness).

The flooring goes in tomorrow.

When I got into bed last night, every muscle in my body ached. I said to Andy, "Jeez, hun, your whole studio project thing is really wearing me out!!! I'm exhausted!" And then before he could respond, I immediately fell asleep. I woke up this morning in exactly the same position I fell asleep in, except there was a ginormous brown cat on my neck: "You said."

A couple of people sent me links to pictures of cool craft rooms last week, but I can't find them now. Because my brain has turned to porridge and my in-box is in the triple digits. I'm so sorry about that! If you know of any pretty pictures of craft rooms, would you paste a link (again) into the comments of this post? Thanks!!!

Buxton Blue comments: 70

Kruger's Farm; Thursday, July 15, 2010

We had a wonderful long weekend. It was our thirteenth anniversary yesterday, and Andy took a few days off, which was fantastic. We mostly moved stuff out of the studio (it's now all over the house, agh) and repainted it in preparation for the flooring to go in on Friday. This room re-do is going to be a project that probably takes a lot longer than we thought (or I, at least, thought). There will be six (one of them gigantic) pieces of furniture that will have to be put together next week, after the floor is finished, and then I'll start slowly moving stuff back in. The new furniture will be all about storage — cabinets, drawers, shelves, more cabinets, more drawers, more shelves.

The Avett Brothers, McMenamins Edgefield; Saturday, July 17, 2010 

Storage is the greatest. I twitch with glee just contemplating it. It's kind of hard to figure out what you need or how it's going to work. I just figure: drawers, and doors. I'm kind of over the open shelving thing. There will be some, but hopefully not too much.

Nostrana restaurant; Monday, July 19, 2010

Since it is so messy here right now, we tried to get away from the house as much as possible: pool, farm, Avett Brothers show, IKEA (natch), dinner out for anniversary. We saw Scotty (I call him Scotty) Avett by the back gate as we were leaving the show on Saturday night, and we called to him (he was only about twenty feet away): "Thank you Scotty!!! We love you guys! Come back again, okay?" And Scotty said, "Thank you, thank you very much," very sincerely, and waved. That was extremely exciting. Love those Avett boys!!! I thought the show was too short, personally, but seeing Scotty by the back gate made up for it. I just love them so much that I think they should play for four or five hours. And also play all my favorite songs. And also read my mind to know what all my favorite songs are. That's all.

Buxton Blue studio; Tuesday, July 20, 2010

I hear Andy and Clover Meadow waking up upstairs. Time to get to work. I think I might repaint the trim today.

Welcome to the Summer-Reading Booklist! comments: 128

This booklist is made up entirely of a selection of suggestions from readers of a little blog called Posie Gets Cozy, who generously recommended their favorite children’s titles for inclusion here. It has no particular rhyme or reason, other than that these books are books that Somebody Somewhere loves.

Some of these books are old, some of them are new, some of them are out-of-print, some of them you may only be able to find if you look very hard in secret places (I’ll leave that to you). All of them certainly sound delightful, from what I can tell, but I myself have only read a handful, so of course you (and your mom or dad) must use your own judgment about whether a book on the list is appropriate for you.

With the help of some Very Trusty Librarians [named Sian, Flora, and Andrea, and who are THE BEST — thank you ever so much, you guys], I’ve organized these titles according to age groups, but I have no doubt you will find things that overlap. If an author is very popular, she or he may have lots of great books out there, but I’ve limited the number of titles I’ve included for any particular author to just about three. If a book is part of a series, I’ve listed the first title in the series followed by an asterisk (*), so you’ll know to go back and read more if you find something you like. When you finish a book, you can put a sticker in the first column, right on top of the blue thing (you'll see what I mean when you see the list). And then you’ll always know which books you’ve read. I also left a little room at the end of each section for you to add a few favorites of your own.

I think it’s going to take us many summers to read all of these books, so you might even punch holes in the pages and put them all in a nice binder to take with you when you go to the library or bookstore.

Have fun, and happy reading!

 

Your friend,
Alicia P.

CLICK HERE FOR THE BOOKLIST!

 

 

An Oregon Summer Quilt comments: 51

Coming together nicely (even if I did spend all day at the pool yesterday — oops).

24 by 28 patches, each 3.5" square when finished.

I hang it on the curtain rod over my sliding door while I'm working on it because I like the way the light looks when it shines through.

Get ready to say goodbye to this color. It was fun while it lasted but I am very ready for something else. (Paint, lantern, and slipper info on my FAQ page.)

Oh sweet dog. She stayed in this exact position for about ten minutes. It reminded me of playing Statue when I was a kid. She's so dang sweet. Her little leathery nose. It's the perfect temperature of cold on a hot day. Mwah mwah mwah. Love you so much, Clover M. You make me laugh every day.

Little French Dresses: Suzanne comments: 80

PATTERN: Suzanne, from Citronille
SIZE: 2
FABRIC: Men's shirting cotton, from Fabric Depot

Losing my sewing room for a while is making me nervous! I know it is going to be so much nicer when it is all fixed up and re-organized, but [bites nails nervously]. . . . It really doesn't look (anymore) like it does in the pictures we took a few years ago when we repainted — it's so much messier now and stuffed with I don't even know what. I'll take new pictures and do a before/after. When we first put the room together, ten years ago now, there was no IKEA available in Portland. So the space was sort of patched together with cast-offs and free furniture and my dad's old metal shelving. None of it has been particularly functional, and I'm pretty convinced that my chair and sewing table has contributed to some lower back aches for me. I spend a lot of my life in this room. It's going to be really neat to have it be a little fancier and more functional. It wasn't really a project I thought we'd be taking on this summer, but with all of the other construction going on in the neighborhood, we decided to just bite the bullet and dig in right now, rather than keep putting it off.

That said, according to my schedule I really have only a couple more days of sewing before I really start unplugging everything in there and putting it all away for a while while we paint and rip out carpet and have the new floor installed (sweepable — yay!). The floor will be pale grayish-blond (finally decided on that yesterday) and the new paint a medium grayish-blue (haven't picked that yet). The trim will be white. All the shelving will be different types of "wood." I'm thinking about getting a kitchen island for a cutting counter. Right now I have an old table put up on cinder blocks so it is the right height. But there is no storage space under the table, and the kitchen islands have drawers and cabinets and nice storagey things under them, which might be nice. I don't know. I'm not very good at figuring out what kind of stuff to get. I start blanking. I've spent a couple of days at IKEA feeling excited but seriously overwhelmed. I like to go by myself, so I can go slow, and think. When you're there, if you listen you can hear people in various stages of stress, talking to each other about what they need. TENSION HEADACHE. Andy and I got in an argument about a chair one time at IKEA. This is inevitable for us when  shopping in any store that's the size of a football field with carts the size of Mini Coopers. Ever since, I now notice so many people having pretty much the exact same conversation we had that time about the chair. They all look extremely grim, just like we did. I feel for them! But on the inside I am giggling a little. It's such a nightmare sometimes! I try to just walk around by myself, silently chanting, "Serenity now. Serenity now." Because, like, you don't want to have a bad time doing something that's supposed to be fun, but it's stressful trying to make sure you are getting the right stuff when you aren't even totally sure of exactly what you need, and you expect to have it forever (as I do). Etc. Etc. I'm sure it's best to do it little by little, but on the other hand, you want to go there as little as possible, so . . . IKEA conundrum. I think all engaged couples should go to IKEA together, actually. Good marriage training. Work it out over Swedish meatballs and that yummy lingonberry drink stuff (love that). You'll probably know whether you're marrying the right person or not by the time you leave the store.

Anyway, so, okay: a bit of sewing before you won't see any sewing around here for a while. This is serene Susanne, who is also such a pretty color of blue.

Ahhhhh. Boy do I love that color. I am really into blue lately, I guess. I ususally am into blue, but lately: love love love. It doesn't often occur to me to make clothes in solid colors, but I guess that when the lines are so pretty and interesting, as I was gushing about yesterday, it really is a shame to obscure them in a print. It's a bit harder to sew on a solid color, because your stitching shows up more, obviously. So it's nice if you can topstitch very neatly, or whatever. That looks sharp, as my dad used to say. And oh, the gathers [sigh]. Shirting cotton (which is lighter weight and has a higher thread count than regular quilting cotton? I'm not really sure what the diff is, technically, but that's my guess) just loves to be gathered like that. Whatever it is, I'm happy to oblige.

I have a shirt that's almost this color. I think I'll wear it today and try to finish my new quilt top this week. That's the last thing for a while. Self, that's the last thing! [Telling myself.]

*Update: Forgot to mention yesterday that if you are looking for the United States shipping option on the Citronille site, it's under "Etats-Unis."

Little French Dresses: Albertine comments: 60

PATTERN: Albertine, from Citronille
SIZE: 2
FABRIC: I think it might have been from Knittn Kitten but I'm not totally sure

Well, I think I've finally found my favorite sewing patterns in the whole-wide world. They are from the French web shop Citronille and they are lovely. This is Mlle. Albertine. Elle est jolie, non?

I stumbled upon Citronille several weeks ago via the blog of one of my very favorite Ravelry knitters, Ittybitty. (She makes the most beautiful knitwear and sewn clothes for herself and her kids. Her color sense is so sophisticated and amazing to me.) From her blog I managed to click on a link that took me to Citronille and then I fell in love. I'd never heard of these before. Get ready for a flurry of little French dresses!

My dad's name was Albert, so I had to make this one first. All of the designs are so simple and sweet and lovely. They all look so comfortable and swingy and easy to wear (and easy to take in, or hem, or gather at sleeve-bottoms, if necessary, once they're put into use). The patterns are written entirely in French but also illustrated a bit, so that helps with the directions. I've made two so far (I'll show you Suzanne [my mom's and sister's and Andy's mom's, and come to think of it my middle own name] tomorrow), and I had no problems figuring out what to do (but I've sewn a lot of dresses by now, so I already kind of knew what to do; if you are inexperienced, you might need some help).

What I love about these dresses is that, although the shapes are so simple, all of the lines seem so right. That is, the "cut" of the dress just feels a little bit prettier and a little more poetic and a little more . . . French. When something is gathered, it's really gathered. Where something could be straight, it has a poetic curve, or a lovely fullness, or a unique angle. My friend Brooke and her family were over for dinner on Friday night. In telling Brooke about these patterns (while cooking in the kitchen, i.e.: away from the computer so I couldn't show her the web site), I tried to use the analogy I'd thought of (just minutes before the doorbell rang): I said that sewing them was like cooking something really simple but with really good ingredients. Because when you have so few lines, you want them to be just right. (This is me, trying to justify spending the money on the shipping, ahem.)

After following some links on the Citronille site, I saw that finished clothes (as well as matching doll clothes!) made from these patterns were being sold at Nils & Happy to See You. (I'm not really sure how these are all related to each other.) There are also patterns for women's, doll, and baby versions. It was exciting. I can see that these are going to keep me very happily occupied for a while. Until I have to take my sewing room apart for the new flooring. Which I should be doing right now, and not sewing. Choices, choices . . . hrmmm.

Swedish Summer Quilt comments: 81

Yay! Finished! This one is baby-sized and made for my dearest friend and college roommate, Martha, who is having a baby girl in August. I think it came out very sweet, if I dare say so myself!

Twenty years ago, when Martha and I were in school, our friend Meredith made a patchwork quilt for her sister and brought it over to our house to show us. I remember being so blown away by that — it was the first handmade quilt I'd ever seen, and it was all square patches in lots of jewel tones. I took pictures of it with my Disc camera — I bet I even have them somewhere. It was kind of an important moment. Meredith's quilt started a quilt trend among my circle of college girlfriends: Martha made a quilt and Ann made a quilt and Pam made a quilt and I made a quilt. None of us, as far as I remember, had ever made anything like a quilt before. We haunted the discount bins at Hancock Fabrics, traced each square by hand from a cardboard template, cut them all out with scissors. I don't remember us having an ironing board, but we must have. Rotary cutter? Never heard of it. We winged it all. That was our style. Over the years we have all made several more quilts (and now we have rotary cutters, too :-). But as far as I know, among all of us girls, our quilts over the past two decades are always made of a patchwork of random-ish squares. I'll never stop loving them that way. I can look at any one of our quilts now, twenty years later, and see Meredith's quilt there. And that feels like those days, to me.

The specs for this one are based on the baby-sized version from my Ollalieberry Ice Cream Quilt pattern. Finished patches are 3.5" each. This one has red gingham on the back, and a bias binding of the same red gingham (love love love). Baby quilts (like everything baby-sized!) are so nice because you can literally lay the whole quilt sandwich out on the dining-room table (which is why, as several people pointed out, there were no dogs lying on this one in-progress; I don't know where the cats were 'cause they do usually like to get in on this action [as if putting it together and keeping it smooth isn't enough of a challenge, just add a cat thinking your hand under the quilt is a mouse] ).

The quilt top and quilt sandwich came together in a couple of days. I love this pattern because all you really need is total randomnessin your design, which is my favorite way to put patches together (though this one had a pretty regular checkerboard effect going). I really wanted it to feel pale and pretty, with dots of brighter colors. But I don't lay anything out beforehand, and I don't worry about balancing colors or anything like that. I just don't like to overbalance things. I think things lose their sense of spontaneity and energy when everything is all balanced.

The funny thing is that it all sort of balances out anyway, since maybe that tendency to balance colors is innate or something. I don't know. I do know that every time I make one of these, I have this bizarre tendency to pick up a red patch every seventh time (or whatever). I don't notice it until the thing is sort of laid out and there's this big stripe of red (or whatever) going across. That didn't really happen this time, but it's happened before, and I do then try to avoid that. But mostly I just pick stuff up and put it together and don't worry.

The Ollalieberry pattern walks you through machine-piecing the patches, machine quilting the seams, and attaching the binding by machine and by hand. For this quilt, I was inspired by my other dear, redonkulously talented, and prolific friend Jane to hand quilt it. Her new book of quilt recipes and general Jane-ness is so beautiful and inspired and inspiring that it made me hand quilt this. Jane's books have such a habit of making me do things!!!

But my Martha deserves it!

When Martha's beautiful baby comes and has a name and a birthday, I will make her a little embroidered patch for the back. In the meantime, I'm making another quilt, almost like this, but queen-sized, for us Paulsons. And, er, it will be tied. Just sayin. OR as I just now see on Amy's blog, sent to her mom for long-arm machine quilting. WOW. Those ladies just seriously read my mind.