Lovelihood

Last week's introduction of homemade gyoza (or potstickers or dumplings or whatever you choose to call your meat-filled pocket of goodness) to the family table repertoire went so gut-bustingly well that The Boy demanded a repeat on this week's menu. When your kids cram that much food into their mouths without threat of demerits, you know you're on to something good.

In the fall we tossed bulbs into the dirt by the fistful. After the great thaw (should all be gone by the morning) we discovered some early risers popping up. And I'll be damned if I can remember what varieties we planted where.

As soon as I can tear myself away from my fiddly little hexagons (while continuing to ignore more pressing projects still on my list), I've got a few other things to occupy my free time.

Low-hanging art makes for easy prey for a toddler. Two frames down. Luckily, Ikea frames are inexpensive and available by the dozen.

Forgotten remnants from projects passed have been revisited and cropped down to one and a half inch hexagons, a lovely size for highligting and abstracting.

Mid-thaw and the birds descended upon our lone winter berry yielding shrub. I'm as clueless about avian species as I am about botanical genuses. All I know is there were about a dozen of them all flitting about the few low branches until Bear's banging on the french doors spooked them off.

To what end I'm making these little hexagons, I don't yet know. If I can keep it up long enough, maybe a quilt. If not, maybe coasters, despite the fact that we don't actually care about our furniture (as evidenced by the way we let the cat treat our couch) and have never before employed coasters in our home. I'm not one for hanging decorative quilt things on the walls. But I am actually considering indulging Bear's bedtime buddies with little quilts of their own. Not terribly fond of any of those ideas except for the first, so I suppose I've committed myself to many, many hours spent hand-stitching scraps of fabric.