January 2012, as we moved back from England, I made only
eight quilt blocks. I’d borrowed a sewing machine from my mom while we stayed
at the Residence Inn. I squeezed in a bit of stitching in the afternoons, between
housekeeping visits and babysitting my grandson. During the next several
months, as we turned our rental back into our residence, my productivity gradually
picked up. I’ve thought about that year a lot lately, as we moved out of that
home and into another. Our “new” house was built in 1977, and we’re the second
owners. It feels like the house misses its former occupants. Nearly everything
is suddenly breaking down or leaking. I made only seven blocks in October,
before I had to pack up my sewing room. You’re looking at the first block I’ve sewn
in the new place. It isn’t perfect, but I know things will get better. After
all, this isn’t my first rodeo.
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