A LITTLE BIRDIE TOLD ME....

...my big sis loves me A LOT.

This cheery little chickadee came in my Christmas box. Can you imagine turning a piece of wood into this? Wow! DS Isobel has a way with wood and paintbrushes, does she not? And she is unfailingly generous, bless her.

There lives in her studio a fellow chickadee with pink blossoms which I understood was slated to live with me…I may plea for a trade when that one is complete. Not that I am unhappy with this little darling, not at all!!! But the sentimental side of me (about 98% at last accounting) likes the idea of DS thinking of me as she carved it. Of course, there’s always the possibility that other little chickadee has flown elsewhere with good reason and if so, my sentiment blushingly acquiesces.

We’re still cold in WV. Not inside – the oak burns nicely, almost too warmly for aerobics, but the extra “glow” is healthy. Outdoor snow is not deep, but with single digits, it will disappear only by evaporation.

It’s about time for me to start some bread and then try to evaporate an ounce or so of weight with some video exercise.

IN THE GAME...

As game players go, I usual lag behind the whole line. But I can still jump in with both feet. This is my “patchwork” series of postcards. Not as creative as others I’ve seen around here, but kinda homey in a way, don’t you think? I'm still honing my techniques, but there's a glimmer of hope now.

I’d been having a lot of trouble with my sewing machine. Enter MY HERO, dh. He worked on it a couple of hours and now it sews like a top. This morning he even adjusted the bobbin winder so that it will wind a full bobbin, not a 2/3 full one. You can imagine what a time and aggravation savings that will be! Bless him. [The single is dh's pick of my litter; he was quite taken with the vivid fabric :)]

So, now I’m on a roll. You know you’re addicted when you cast covetous eyes toward the ‘egg money’ fabric box (Nine's special vintage reproductions gift)…but so far I have only snitched a bit of the muslin. So far, so good…

NOSTALGIA

I cannot decide if NOSTALGIA is a blessing or bane of age. Most likely, it is a blessing for those of us who revel in it and a bane to those of you who have to listen to it…over and over again.

Monday, February 5, was my father’s birthday. Neither of my parents saw “old age” – Daddy died at age 57, Mom at age 61. They’ve been gone over 30 years, but I’m still very much attached to their birthdays. Nostalgic memories must needs have links, I am sure.

One of my favorite links is this old photo. No doubt it is favored because I am smiling in my Daddy’s arms! We were visiting up Tanner Creek, in Shock, West Virginia. I can’t guess the year – circa 1950, maybe? - it's almost as far back as my memory will take me. (The photo was taken in Grandpa Grover and Grandma Oe’s front yard; two siblings are missing, possibly off to Uncle Gale’s.)

I always think of dad as the quintessential West Virginia man of his era. He had an eighth grade education, was friendly, generous, very hard working and had a ready humor. Though not given to many words, there was a lot going on in his head! He worked as a welder. One of my childhood joys was watching him ply his trade off-hours in our driveway. I’d sit on the concrete steps and watch the sparks fly – to a kid it was fireworks. Though cautioned not to watch the flame, my eyes were ever drawn to the surface of his work, where Daddy made perfect concentric circles with the rod that melted into a smoothly flowing metal bond. He was an artist! Nor did he ever lack for artistic supplies, because he could never pass up salvaged metal from the plant.

Once in my life, I remember my father spanking me – I was playing on the outside steps and fell in to dirt – after I was dressed for Sunday meeting and clearly told to stay on the porch. Once in my life, I remember hearing him say, “I love you, too.” I treasure both memories.

And Melville Brooks Brady was also a quintessential proud grandpa. He once told his sister, “Peni wouldn’t care if the world turned upside-down as long as she and her kids landed on top.” In another instance, he took those kids’ photos from his billfold, spread them out on the coffee table and announced to company, “This is part of what I’ve accomplished.” I wish DS Craig could remember how much fun Grandpa Brady had with him. Craig was just a baby and would mimic every expression and sound his grandpa made. Dad laughed and laughed at their "monkey shines.”

And nostalgia almost always winds around to one of the sweetest glimpses of my folks together which came in later years. They were seated on the worn couch, holding hands, watching television – Tennessee Ernie Ford, singing, “How Great Thou Art.”

My mother’s birthday was February 18 – so I get a double blessing of nostalgic reminiscence this month.