I only have one rule at Donaldson.
As soon as my bleary eyes open, I send a text to Miss Charlene to announce that I am, in fact, still alive. This rule became necessary when it was discovered that I have a propensity for sleeping in and missing breakfast (which is promptly served at 8:15, thankyouverymuch).
I find that hour of the day completely uncivilized for anything but a roll-over and a conclusion of sleeping, so I am free to lounge and loaf about at will, provided I let Charlene know that I am accounted for and not out causing havoc.
After my "I'm alive" announcement, I made my way to the stitching room for the day's fun.
My project of choice for the day was Blossom Time from Kathy Reese...Needle Delights Originals. This was a class that I was supposed to take back in April, but alas, I had to have kidney time down in Indy instead.
I spent the majority of the day establishing borders and staying away from the snack table.
Our evening fun was a "get to know you" game in which we shared something interesting about ourselves.
Dearies...I am, as usual, utterly gobsmacked. These women are so utterly amazingly fabulous that I go back to my little room/compartment every might and feel better and smarter for just having been around them. They are moms and grandmas and aunts and sisters and daughters, to be sure, but they are also teachers and nurses and chemists and bankers and lawyers and business owners and creators, and philanthropists and...
But the fun part is learning that they also fly hot air balloons and are National Jigsaw Puzzle champions and are travelers to all parts of the globe and are retired weapons experts and media specialists and music teachers and ice skaters, synchronized swimmers, and collegiate basketball players.
You know how they do flashbacks in movies, and a character tells their story and a younger version of that character appears with the older voice narrating? Well, I swear that as each of the ladies stood and introduced themselves and told that interesting fact about themselves, I could "see" them at nine, or twenty- six, or thirty, or fifty...seeing them outside of their life as a stitcher/quilter/beader, etc.
I know, I know. I'm waxing poetic.
But I love this place.
Before I go, a quick tour of my room/compartment:
Oh....and where I ended with my Blossom Time before bed last night:
Happy Sunday!
What's making you wax poetic today?