Lazy Dazey

It's July in Utah. It's hot. Hovering around 100-or-more-degrees-for-three-weeks hot. By 3 p.m., it takes genuine effort to stand. We do have a swamp cooler but it's really, REALLY loud. In the afternoon most of the conversations between Jack and I go something like this:

Jack: "Mommy, what did you say?"

Me: "What?"

My nature is that of a busy bee, buzzing around from one project (laundry) to the next (sewing) to the next (playing light sabers with Jack) to the next (making quesadillas) to the next (cleaning up a juice spill) to the next (sewing). But during these sweltering days I prefer to sit on the deck in my Martha-Stewart-for-Kmart patio chair--Diet Coke with extra-extra ice at the ready--and flip through the pages of one of my favorite home-decorating books, Zona Home. (The book was published in 1996. I've never read the words. I just look at the pictures.)

If I position my patio chair directly outside of the sliding-glass door, I get the benefit of swamp-cooler current without having to say my thoughts out loud in order to hear them. That can be downright embarrassing.

So today, I'm mustering up what's left of my sun-stolen energy to share two things in no particular order. One thing about quilts, one thing about Jack. They have nothing to do with each other. I'm sure there is a clever segue to connect the two topics. No, wait. Actually, there isn't. And if you can think of one, it must be a balmy 79 degrees where you live.

One thing about Jack: He is Yoda. If you want to meet Jack by ear and you have two minutes and 50 seconds to spare, click away.

(My first try at posting audio. Comment if you heard it!)

One thing about quilts: I've continued working on a quilt design that I've mentioned here and here. I'm thinking people will either hate it, or they'll hate it. Which do you choose?

I know what you're thinking. It couldn't get any worse, right? Just you wait! I promise, it'll get worse in the coming weeks! Looks like the 'ol clown convention came to town again. (Inside joke for those of you who own The Little Box of Baby Quilts. See card #10.)

Now it's back to my deck, back to my swamp cooler, back to my Diet Coke, back to my should-be-awake-any-minute-now Jack . . . if I can get my sweaty self out of this computer chair.