Seven Kitty Cats

Flower Show

 

“Do you remember learning about Jesus feeding more than 5,000 people? Jesus had been teaching people all day, and they were hungry. Somewhere in this large group there was a young boy who had five loaves of bread and two small fishes. He knew that this food could not feed very many people, but he decided to give Jesus what he had. Jesus took the food and thanked Heavenly Father for it. That food fed thousands of people! Just as the young boy did not have to figure out how a small amount of bread and fish could feed so many people, you do not need to worry about fixing all the problems around you. Heavenly Father can provide miracles when you simply offer what you have. When you say, ‘Here am I, send me,’ Heavenly Father can take something small and simple and make it great!” – President Susan H. Porter

Forty-Eight Louisiana Blocks

 

I did an inventory in my sewing room this week, and discovered I have seventeen different sets of quilt blocks that are ready for sashing and/or borders. Seventeen. That doesn’t count the tops that are ready to be quilted or the quilts that are waiting to be bound. It’s just blocks. Some are in plastic bins and some are in cardboard boxes. Some are in zipper bags and some in paper grocery sacks. Seventeen is just too many, so I set to work on clearing the backlog. I made the first of these red, cream and blue blocks in November 2022. I didn’t follow a pattern. I was just using up leftover scraps from other projects. If I stitch these blocks together without sashing, add a 2” blue stop border and a 4” red outer border, it would make an excellent donation to Quilts of Valor. One down, sixteen to go.

Midnight Blue Pinwheel

 

We went to a potluck picnic last night, and had a marvelous time. I brought my spicy English layer salad. If you’re interested, the recipe is here: https://mombowe.blogspot.com/2016/06/four-teacups.html

It’s one of my favorite dishes, but it can be a bit of work. I really should have made grape jelly meatballs. There are only three ingredients; no slicing, grating, chopping, or julienning. (I looked it up. That really is a word.) In a slow cooker, dump ten ounces of grape jelly. (Smuckers is okay, Bonne Maman is amazing, but usually I just use my own.) Add 12 ounces of Heinz chili sauce and stir. (There are other brands, but they might change the taste.) Add 32 ounces of fully cooked, frozen meatballs. (You could make your own, but that’s extra work.) Cover and cook 3 hours on high or 6 hours on low. If you take this to a potluck, be sure to bring toothpicks for serving.

Brimming Basket

 

I learned a new term (well, new to me) this month: Maycember. If it isn’t obvious, Maycember is a combination of May and December. It refers to the absolute mayhem that happens at the end of every school year. This time of year, calendars are just as jam-packed as they are during the holiday season, without the benefit of gift-giving, festive decorations, or the cultural permission to slow down. So far, we’ve had two school band concerts, a choir concert, a piano recital, a dance recital, an amusement park field trip, two fund-raising carnivals, and several end-of-year farewell parties. As if that wasn’t bad enough, some of these events occur at the same time on the same day, so there’s literally no way to attend them all. The good news is summer break starts a week from tomorrow. Then there’s a whole week of relative peace and quiet before the summer musical starts.

Pink Tulip

 

For years I was a substitute teacher. It was a great way to supplement our family’s income and still be at home when my kids were. I only subbed in elementary schools, as older kids can be brutal.  When I found this story, I could definitely relate: “A former Marine Corps sergeant took a job as high school teacher. Before the school year started, he injured his back and had to wear a plaster cast under his shirt. The students didn’t know. The first day, he walked into the rowdiest class in the school—the kind that eats new teachers alive. The kids, knowing he was a former Marine, were eager to test him. The sergeant opened a window and sat at his desk. When a breeze blew his tie around, he casually picked up a stapler and stapled the tie to his chest. The room went silent. The rest of the year, discipline was not an issue.”

Half a Dozen Kitty Cats

 

The other day, a friend-of-a-friend on Facebook posed a question: If given the opportunity to forever be an age you choose (not a time, but a physical age), what age would you choose, and why? There were thousands of answers. Apparently, this is a subject we all have opinions about. A lot of men thought seventeen was the perfect age, because that’s when they’d earned their driver’s licenses. Several women chose 21, because they’d felt the most attractive at that age. Older people were more likely to select forties or fifties, when their health was better than today. Not me. If given the choice, I’d be ten forever. When I was ten, I could ride a bike, run like the wind, do cartwheels, and pull myself into a handstand. I ate whatever I liked without consequences. I didn’t pay taxes, didn’t have a mortgage, and no one could make me do anything I didn’t want to do: the perfect age.