Monday Morning----Early. But I’m already dressed for work and started a pot of stew and put on a load of laundry. Amazing the power of caffeine in a strong pot of coffee.
I did some sewing this weekend but still have handwork to finish. In my last post I mentioned that Chelsey’s birthday is this week and in our house, you don’t have birth days—you have birth festivals. She’s bringing a friend home this weekend who also has a birthday but lives too far from home to travel. I was fretting that I didn’t want Chelsey to open all the presents and this poor girl sit back and watch. A friend I work with reminded me it wasn’t about money—it was about thought and getting clever. So I went home and flung open the fabric cabinet doors. While I don’t have fabrics that are really Chelsey’s type—I think I came up with some compromises and have worked this weekend on gifts for both girls. Pictures will come soon.
The remainder of this post is type for memories…..not quilting.
My Sunday school class was outstanding yesterday. We started out reviewing last week’s lesson. Jesus walking on water with Peter. I had a pail of water and we played a guessing game whether things from Don’s tools would float—nails, screwdrivers, Allen wrenches –no….wood blocks, crayons, pencils yes--- We ended with a kid, shoes and socks off stepping into the water… I had them totally captivated and drove the point home on miracles. Miracles for a four year old isn’t an easy concept to grasp. This week’s lesson was Jesus feeding the five thousand with fives loaves of bread and two fish. We held an indoor picnic (complete with red and white cloth of the floor and my burgundy graniteware) of goldfish crackers for fish and oyster crackers for bread. It may have been twenty degrees outside but it was warm in that classroom and we had a ball. Not every week does the lesson just “click” but I felt like at the end of class those kids would not forget today’s adventure…. Man, I love teaching that class…..
Homemade stew of supper tonight
Don’s willingness to share his junk