There was a time, not in my extreme youth–although I’m sure I was a “know it all” as an old teenager. But I came to faith in God later than that–having rejected my local Holy-Roller Church’s frequent efforts to save my soul in my youth, while being dangled over Hell like a Weenie.I was never an Athiest, mind  you. Not that I feared God, either, therefore was hanging on for fire insurance. I just didn’t think much about it. Too much wrong in the world that I knew for there to be a Supreme Being who “…so loved the world…”Then one day, God–who didn’t give His or Her name–walked into my life. Within a couple of years, I knew all about God. Had it down. Pat. Ask me anything.

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May 31- I left Oklahoma via an airline I hadn’t flown before–a friend praised it, but those were domestic flights–we stopped in Atlanta GA, then flew overnight to Paris, France, to arrive midmorning in Edinburgh. I got lucky and was able to exchange reserved seats on the Atlanta-Paris route for exit-row-seat (my choice: aisle or window; planning to sleep a bit, I chose the window.)I had a wonderful seatmate, youngish, clean-cut, quiet guy. The flight was great (though long); I ordered a Jack Daniels before dinner and, consequently, actually slept for a few motor-constantly-humming miles. Then we arrived at Charles de Gaulle in Paris and everything went south: impossible signage, French only and inadequate. Our flight was 25 minutes late and, because of that, I walked, walked, walked—asked questions of people who only thought they spoke English—my ears actually hurt. There were telephones, but not the country code for the US, so I couldn’t call my husband and ask him to call my hosts. My Day-Timer was in my luggage—and it’s my own darn fault that I hadn’t the good sense to put their telephone number in my wallet—there were computers, with instructions in French. Consequently, I went from queue to queue, from terminal to terminal and back again—spent the whole damned day in uncomfortable seats inside the security area (where there are NO restaurants, thank you very much) until FINALLY, 4:15 came and I caught the second daily, and last, flight to Edinburgh.My host—however—in the meantime had bullied & threatened the airline into telling him where his “lost mother-in-law” was. They were actually there to meet me: my daughter, her glorious son and husband. Oh, god, I’m home at last.

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Many people are interested in writing as a source of income. There are some misconceptions, among which you find:
“How hard can it be? You just sit there and say whatever comes into your head.”
“I spend so much time online, chatting, posting and the like, if I could make some cash then ________ (fill in the blank) would get off my back about finding a job or, at the very least, stop saying ‘Get off the £%* computer.’”
“Writing is like talking, only you type it.”

The truth hurt. Good luck with your journey.

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Crafts is a big category and includes about any interest you might have about ‘things to make’: sewing, home decorating, knitting, crochet, quilting and such. Raises a question, though, about hobbiests: writers, painters, scrimschaw carvers. Hmmm. Let’s include them all. Right now, I have Genealogy simmering on a back burner–no time–because when I get into it, days vanish, stomachs empty, all the clean clothes get used up and there I am, tracking someone who hasn’t left a lot of information behind. If there is an interest, we would probably open a category for that alone. Ask questions, if you like. One of us might be able to answer or could have a link for you.

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I spent June of last year with a family in another country and took along some fabric to begin a new quilt, mostly so my host family wouldn’t feel compelled to entertain me all the time. He watched from a distance as I began–this being the first time in his life he had seen the process, much less the product. Without ridicule he inquired, “So you are cutting big pieces of fabric into small pieces, then sewing them back together into a big piece; is that it?”Quilting has come a long way since our American grandmothers–as small girls–began with the Four-Patch and worked their ways up–as young betrothed women–to The Baltimore Bride. If you’re nostalgic, go ahead and get it out of your system. When you’re ready for speed-cutting, strip-sewing and patterns our grannies couldn’t even imagine, visit http://www.fonsandporter.com or Google “quilting patterns” to find late-20th and 21st Century adventures in quilting.

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