I’d saved the china hutch for last, because I keep them all in a drawer in that piece. And I was using that back scratcher to reach all the way under, sweep to the side (as you do), then pull everything out. On my third swipe, one of those little toy mice jumped up and ran across my hand. I mean, I could seriously feel his tiny little feet scrabbling across the back of my left hand. And yes, I screamed like a girl. (No, I did not see where he went–I was too busy screaming like a girl and doing my “I saw a mouse” dance. It’s very similar to my “I saw a spider” dance, but louder: after the initial shriek of seeing a spider, I’m absolutely quiet–don’t want that sucker to know where I am so he can jump on me, do I?)

When I finally settled down, l looked at Sammy (who was absolutely stunned that I didn’t scamper after that mouse and catch it). Apparently, that sweet boy had brought the mouse in through his brand-new cat door–you know, so that I’d learn how to hunt properly. And it wasn’t the first mouse he’d ever brought in, either–his score was two mice, two lizards, a snake, and two frogs before I finally decided how to stop him. And yes, they were all alive when I found them. I’m certain he was very disappointed in Mama’s hunting capabilities. (He also brought in a dead mouse once, but I’m thinking that was for him. Yuck.)

How was he getting all this wildlife in, you might ask? Well, a neighbor had kindly installed a cat door for me–it led from my dining room to the upstairs landing on my deck.

And how exactly was I going to get him to stop bringing in all this wildlife? I didn’t want to just block his door–it was nice not having to get up to let him out all the time. (It was especially nice not having to get up to let him play “Will he or won’t he?”, a favorite game for all cats, as you probably know.) But that snake was the last straw, so to speak. I had to come up with something that would block him from bringing little critters in the house. And there are all kinds of cat doors on the market, some that even claim to be able to detect the critters and lock the door. But who can afford those things?

Finally I decided that the only way to keep him from bringing stuff in was to check his mouth every single time he came in. This, of course, was not going to happen if he still had his cat door to come in whenever he wanted. So what to do?My first solution was to put a very loud bell on his collar–if the prey could hear him, then he wouldn’t catch them, right? Wrong. It slowed him down, but he’s a very persistent cat.

Some more (extremely slow) thinking on my part, and I finally had the answer…

I measured the size of the cat door opening, then ordered another door just slightly larger than that opening. I left the inside flap of the original one where it was, but removed the outer flap. I then installed the larger outer flap on the outside of my home, so it would open outward, but not inward. Sammy still uses his cat door to go outside whenever he wants, but he cannot come back in unless I let him in a human-sized door. This has the added benefit of my being able to check his mouth for “gifts.” (Yes, I still have to get up to let him come back inside, but I’m still only doing that half as often as when I was his door-opener for both inside and outside.)

Altering the cat door actually resolved another problem I’d had–I was worried to pieces that larger wildlife, like raccoons, might visit me some night while I was sleeping. I was able to reassure myself that that would not happen–the smell of cat and people near the flap would keep away ‘coons, right? At least that’s what I told myself. Then I had this awful dream where I woke up to find a wild raccoon on my chest, nose-to-nose with me. I was terrified when I woke up. But even then I was able to persuade myself that it wouldn’t actually happen.

That all changed the night I heard SamSam coming in his door (before I fixed it). He seemed to be having more trouble than usual, patting at the flap repeatedly before getting his head in. By the time he was inside, I’d gotten up and put my glasses on to see what the problem was–and I spotted my Sammy sitting quietly under the dining room table, watching the activity at the cat door. I turned to the door just in time to see a beautiful stray cat (that I assumed to be his girlfriend) come gingerly into the room, where she sat and stared at Sammy. What?! I made a move toward her and she high-tailed it out of there. She visited one other time, too, before I changed the outside flap on his door.

(This is a photo of his girlfriend. She came up to the front porch, just checking things out, I think, and I was able to get this photo. I told SamSam privately later on that if he wants her to be part of our household, it’s fine with me. But when she showed up again with the obvious intent of getting in the house, he kept pace with her as she walked up and down the front porch. I was standing in the open doorway, and she was trying to sneak past him and into the house. I don’t know if he was protecting his hooman, or if he wasn’t about to give up being an Only. Isn’t she beautiful?!)

But somehow the start time for the sew-along kept getting put off. Eventually, several of them had an upcoming retreat, so they decided that’s when they would tackle this project. Even though I wasn’t on the retreat with them, I put aside that weekend to work on mine at home. (Before you start to feel sorry for me working all by my lonesome there at home, keep in mind that we live in the age of zoom. Of course, even without that, I have Alexa, and she happily blared out Bob Seger radio for me whenever I was sewing. Gotta love Seger!)

But first I had to find the pattern.

Yes, I knew I could buy the pattern at numerous sites online, but I was looking for something a little simpler, a little faster, a little easier…..and frankly, a little free. And I found all that in a pattern online (okay, full disclosure: I didn’t find the free pattern, one of my retreat friends found it and happily shared it with the rest of us). This pattern made the construction of the block itself both simpler and faster, using strip sets instead of small, individual pieces. Putting the whole thing together was a lot easier with these blocks than I think it would have been with the other patterns we’d found. And yes, I’m going to share this wonderful pattern with you! It’s actually called Beads at the Jordan Fabrics website, and you can find it here. Donna Jordan even has a tutorial to go with it on YouTube; it’s on the same page.

I used the Viva Terra line from Studio E for my fabrics.

The pattern calls for 72 blocks, but I went ahead and made 80—to allow for wonky seams, skewed lines, and mismatched corners. I was happily surprised that I didn’t have as many of those as I’d anticipated, so I had a few extra blocks to choose from in my layout.

The layout process was quite challenging. I was using ten distinct fabrics in four or five color families, and “randomizing” both attributes was a little tougher than I expected. I took lots of shots with my phone camera, to help spot obvious mistakes, and I took several in black-and-white, to look at color contrasts. (If you don’t do this already, you’ve got to try it—it makes a huge difference in your layouts!) I don’t remember if I was actually happy with the final layout or if I’d simply given up in frustration, but in any case, I finally had the layout I was going with.

This was the first quilt I’d ever tried to sew together in diagonal lines, as it’s necessarily on point to get the hanging effect of chandelier beads. Oh. My. Goodness. What a challenge that was for me! After a few minor mistakes and one mega-mistake that was absolutely migraine-worthy, I finally got it figured out and got the top put together. Yay, me!

Next came the quilting. I already had a quilting pattern in mind, but I was going to have to do it length-wise, instead of crosswise—it’s a long, flowing pattern, and I wanted it to run in the same direction as the beads. No problem, though: I just loaded the quilt in sideways. Here’s a photo of the back, which shows the quilting much better:

I thought it turned out very nicely.

I didn’t have anyone in mind while I was making this quilt, so when one of my quilting groups said we’d been contacted by a worthy cause who’d asked us to donate one, I eventually volunteered mine (I wanted to wait and make sure it turned out okay). The event—a dinner and Silent Auction—comes up in mid-September, which means I have about a month to get the binding on. Have I ever mentioned that binding is my absolute least favorite part of the quilting process? Well, it is. As a matter of fact, I have four or five quilts ready for binding that I’ve been putting off. So I guess soon I’ll have a huge bind-a-thon weekend.

Oh, joy.

Sammy, the Handsome Ginger that you’ve seen and read about before, is my faithful watchcat. Well, he’s my faithful watchcat as far as dry land goes. He declines to come out on the dock at all, and I can’t imagine the cat-fight we’d have on our hands (I mean paws) if I tried to get him in the boat! But he keeps an eye out for me.

The last time I went fishing, I’d forgotten that he’d remained on the bank. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t even noticed him until I was ready to launch—I’d had to bail out the boat first, after a small flurry of wonderful thunderstorms. Then I had to dry out the seats enough that I wouldn’t get soaked while I was busy not catching fish (as it turned out). So it was only as I was getting into the boat that I noticed him: he was quietly sitting on the brick walkway down to the dock, watching my every move (and telegraphing quite clearly that he was plenty close enough to the water, thank you very much). I hollered out that I’d be back soon, then off I went.

Everything that could go wrong went wrong. Although I always tend to catch a tree or two when I go fishing, they’re usually the underwater kind—I cast toward brush piles in hopes of catching The Big One, right? Well, not that day. The first (and only) tree I caught that day was on the bank, and somehow I caught it about fifteen feet up, above the water. So there was no retrieving that hook. After tugging and whipping my pole around for a few minutes (knowing all the while that it was hopeless), I reluctantly cut my line and left my little spinner up in a tree. I then paddled smack-dab in the middle of the lake to fish strictly for bass (which I’d rather catch anyway—it’s what I grew up fishing). I also replaced my spinner with a small Rebel lure. It turns out that it was too small—it wasn’t heavy enough to cast very far. So there I go, replacing it with yet another lure–one that I thought would better.

Was I ever wrong! On about the third cast with this new “better” lure, I got the mother of all backlashes. I nearly had to unwind the whole reel to get that sucker out of there. So I did. And I decided it was time to call it a day—you know, before I hooked myself or fell out of the boat—and I headed back home.

As I got nearer my home, I thought I spotted something on the small bench we have under a lake-side tree. So I took a photo (the one above this entry). If you zoom in quite a bit, you’ll see my Handsome Sam, waiting patiently for Mama to get home. (He’s also in the shade, you’ll notice. Smart cat.) I spoke to him, across the water, so he’d know for sure it was Mama. He watched me as I approached and started docking the boat.

After I’d gotten it tied off and set, I turned around to tell him how much I appreciated his waiting for me. And this is what I see:

Yup, Sammy the Watchcat had—in the quietly pompous manner that cats typically have—turned his back on me, as if to say, “Waiting for you? Worried about you? Well, I never!”

Silly boy.

She slowly warmed up to us, approaching us as we sat on the front porch then quickly beating a hasty retreat if we moved. Eventually, she allowed us to pet her, and she liked it! She liked it so much that she started running to greet us whenever we pulled into the driveway. Weeks later, she gathered all her courage and actually came inside the house. It was a victorious moment for her, and for us.

She quickly became part of the family, once she’d literally crossed that threshold.

At the time, we were a two-home family—we lived and worked in one city, then drove three hours away to what was to be our retired-and-live-happily-ever-after home (that sounds so much better than calling it a “retirement home,” doesn’t it?). And we made the trek every single weekend, even though we often couldn’t leave for our forever home until after midnight on Friday. But we could stay only until Sunday (Monday, if it was a long weekend), so “What to do with Kitty?” became a constant concern. As hard as it was to leave her for the week, we knew she was feral and had been supporting herself all her life, before we met. It didn’t seem quite fair to her to take her away from her home to a new, unknown house, where she would have to be an inside cat five days a week. So we commuted back and forth, always anxious to get back to our Forever Home and our Kitty.

On one such weekend, I had come up a little earlier than the rest of my family, and I was alone. My timing was perfect—there was a storm blowing in from across the lake, and our deck overlooks that lake. So I grabbed a cold drink and an afghan (one that I had crocheted) to cover my legs from the approaching wind and rain, and I went out on the deck. In less than ten minutes, Kitty was waddling up the stairs to see me. She was waddling because she was very heavily pregnant; we’d expected her to have had the babies during the week, but she obviously hadn’t.

I loved on her, as required, then settled in for the Storm Show. And it was magnificent—big angry clouds hanging over the far-off trees, with streaks of lightning and gusty winds. I was so glad I’d thought to grab that afghan! I could tell that even though the deck was covered by the roof, I was going to get wet from the wind and rain.

The storm was so stunning, I hardly even noticed when Kitty crept under my legs and curled up on the afghan.

When I did realize where she was, I reached under to assure her, in case she was afraid. And I couldn’t find her. So I lifted the edge of the afghan off my lap and peered under. She was there, all right. But she was a tad busy—giving birth to some of the cutest little kittens you’ve ever seen! And yes, right there on my hand-crocheted afghan! I stroked her head and told her what a brave, beautiful mama she is, then I put the corner back down so she could labor in peace. She knew I was there, though, as she had her back firmly tucked up against my calves as she delivered the most precious bundles I’ve ever been lucky enough to receive.

She’s a cat, right? I know that. But I believe down to my bones that she put off having those kittens until her Hoomans were home. I also believe that she chose me as her harbor-in-the-storm for this beautiful moment.

The rest of my family got there after the second kitten was born. When my husband joined me on the deck and asked where Kitty was, I gestured under the afghan. He thought she was frightened of the storm, but I told him, “No, she’s having her babies.” He was stunned. “You mean, right now? She’s having her babies right now, under the blanket?!” I told him yes, and she’s doing so very well, and she’s going to be such a great mama.” He couldn’t resist—he got down on the deck next to my legs, and carefully lifted the edge of the afghan, just in time to see her contract, then deliver, Kitten #3. He was amazed, and I think, every bit as delighted as I was. It was such a tender moment, I could not make myself take photos as it was happening.

I had never heard of a cat waiting for her Hoomans to be there to give birth, and I’d certainly never known of one to actually shelter underneath the legs of a person for such an intimate event. So I called my eldest niece, who is as cat-crazy as I am, and I asked her about it. It was new to her, too, and I felt deeply honored by Kitty’s precious gifts.

When she appeared to be finished, I quietly got up from my chair, tucked the afghan softly around her and her three bundles, and went in the house to prepare a box for the new family. We put it in the house, in an out-of-the-way bathroom, and I gently carried one of the new arrivals inside and into the box. Kitty very quickly got the idea, and she brought in the other two. Then she settled in to nurse her new brood. It was very sweet, very domestic, very loving.

But something was off.

Her tummy just did not look like it should, after birthing a complete litter of kittens. So I gently rubbed her little abdomen, and up and down both sides, and I told my husband, “She’s not finished.” At his confused look, I explained, “There’s at least one more kitten inside her.” But she was happily nursing, and he thought there was no way that could be true.

We checked on her often that evening, to make sure the kittens were well and she was feeding all of them. She had, of course, cleaned them immediately after each was born, and they were adorably soft and fluffy. But we didn’t want to make the new mom nervous, so we didn’t stay with her for too long at a time. Every single time we went in, though, we counted the kittens. Nope, only three.

Eventually, night came, and the household settled down to its night-time routines. When we went to bed, Kitty was contentedly cleaning her three sleeping babies and purring up a storm.

Of course, we headed straight to her nursery when we got up the next day, and there he was—the fourth kitten, solid black and bigger than any of his siblings.

Kitty’s family was complete. And so was ours.

I belong to two quilt guilds, and the local one is having our Christmas party soon.  This year we decided our gift exchange will be mugs with coordinating quilted mug rugs.  I knew I didn’t want to do a seasonal theme—I wanted something that could be used year-round.  I started by choosing the mug (pictured above), then I went to my stash and found this cute sewing-themed fabric from Northcott:

Perfect!  Then I googled Free Mug Rug patterns, but just about every one of those was way above my skill level!  So I decided just to wing it.  I chose three of the fabrics, cut them to size, and pieced them. I knew I wanted to make them a little over-large, so I could trim and square after they were pieced.  The main fabric was cut around seven inches wide; the middle (rulers) fabric was about two-and-a-half inches wide, and the third fabric was about four inches wide.  Each was cut 17-18 inches long (because I knew I wanted to make two—one to give and one to keep).  Here’s what they looked like after I sewed them together, then cut into two mug rugs:

I chose one of the remaining fabrics to use as the backing (it’s from Northcott), and I cut the backing and batting to size.  Here are the front and back of the mug rugs.  Realistic looking, aren’t they? (Especially the backing!)  There is nothing sitting on these rugs—all of the notions are part of the print!

Then I quilted them on my regular sewing machine.  I quilted one of the mug rugs diagonally and one vertically, and when I couldn’t decide which one I like better, I decided to let the better binding be my deciding factor in which I should give away (the vertically-quilted mug rug looked better, so it’s going to the Mug Rug Exchange). I chose purple binding to match the mug.  Here’s the matching set:

I hope someone likes it–we’re doing a Dirty Santa exchange! Merry Christmas, all!

Quilting retreats are so much fun—if you’ve never been, I urge you to go.  Soon.  As soon as possible.  Right now.  Go.  You can read this when you get back.

I went to a retreat this past weekend, and it is simply a not-to-be-missed experience.  Being in a room with a dozen or so other like-minded souls, you learn so very much, and you get a ton of sewing done.  (Okay, maybe not a literal ton…)  You also get to wander around and look at everyone else’s creations; meet some amazing people and have engaging conversations; sew around the clock or take frequent breaks for napping, wandering the beautiful grounds, napping, Facebooking, and napping; and eat.  Man, do you eat!  Besides the meals provided at the venue, we had a snack table set up, and there was chocolate for days on that table…along with trail mix, fruit, baked goods, assorted chips, gummy bears (okay, I brought those—I’m totally addicted to Jelly Belly UnBEARably Hot Cinnamon gummy bears), a cheese ball, and later on, a meat-and-cheese tray.  No one went hungry at this retreat.

Oh, the picture above?  That’s the quilt top I started at the retreat—it went from two jelly rolls to a still-needs-borders quilt top in about three days (I spent one day attending a quilt show and shopping, naturally).  The pattern came from Missouri Star Quilt Company; the jelly rolls were in my stash and I forgot to look to see which fabric line or manufacturer they came from.

Here’s how I spent my weekend–

First, cut the jelly rolls into measured strips:

Second, make a lot of half-square triangles (HSTs):

Third, make your first block, using your measured strips and HSTs:

And fourth, check to make sure your first two blocks look okay together:

Then repeat….over and over….until you have thirty-six blocks.  Trim your blocks, then spend about an hour-and-a-half laying them out, picking them up, rearranging them, mixing and matching, until you get them “just so.”  Then sew them together, and the center of your quilt top is done! The quilt will also have a narrow white border and a wider patterned border using one of the fabrics seen in the quilt. (I haven’t done this part yet, even though I’ve been home for days. Life gets in the way sometimes, you know?) I’ll use another matching fabric for the backing, then it’s ready for quilting and binding. It’s a rewarding hobby.

Retreats aren’t rocket science (although math is involved). They’re not world peace (although no wars broke out while I was there). They’re probably not even life-changing (although you’ll probably make lifelong friends while you’re there). But they are definitely fun, and educational, and sociable, and a good way to spend a few days. Try it….you’ll like it.

I made my first quilt in the spring of 2017, I think.  I didn’t know any quilters, so I YouTubed it.  I found “The easiest beginner quilt ever” or something like that, and I got to work.  The woman on the video didn’t say anything about what makes a “good” quilt, so I had no idea my corners were supposed to match up.  She didn’t talk about choosing the right colors or the fact that there are so many different qualities of fabric, so I just used a charm pack I’d gotten from Wally World. She didn’t mention binding, she just showed how to do an “envelope” style quilt. But it was well presented, and easy to follow, and her sample quilt was adorable. So I did it.  I made my first quilt.

Have a look:

Cute, huh?  Lots of problems, I know, but hey, it was my very first quilt.  And I was hooked.

I found a local quilt group, and they were more than happy to welcome a newbie into their fold.  With their guidance, I learned about the most basic things:

• Yes, corners are supposed to match up;
• Yup, consistent seams are a good thing, and just for fun, try making all of them a quarter-inch;
• Fabrics, like everything else, come in a wide variety of quality, and I should choose wisely.  Cheap was good for practice, but when I start making “real” quilts, get the good stuff;
• Precut packs are very helpful if you don’t trust your own judgement when it comes to selecting colors (which I didn’t, and I still don’t);
• Patterns are actually there for a good reason, and yes, you can learn to read them;
• There’s a difference between ironing and pressing;
• The sewing machine matters, but don’t get more machine than you need; and
• It’s much more helpful—and tremendously more fun—to sew with other people instead of alone with YouTube!

The more I sewed, the better I got (funny how that works, isn’t it?).  The better I got, the more I wanted to learn and the more confidence I gained.  Being around these learned ladies was a hundred times better than trying to teach myself in 2-D with a television screen, and our sewing group met on a regular basis.

Until I moved.

It was hard saying goodbye to these first quilting mentors of mine, but I’d gained so much from them, and I knew I wanted to repeat the experience.  So once the moving part was over, I went in search of a local quilting group that I might join.  I found one, just fifteen minutes away, and they meet every month.  With my newfound friends, I learned even more about quilting (for example, I hadn’t been “quilting” at all—I’d been “piecing.”  The quilting was when you added your quilt top to a layer of batting and a backing, then sewed it all together.  But then all of you reading this already knew that, right?).   I learned that quilting is easier (and much more fun) when you have a longarm machine to do it, and I learned that there is no way I could afford one of those machines (my dream machine would be almost forty grand.  Yeah, I know….).  But there were ladies in the group who do have a longarm machine, and they would gladly quilt my layers (for a charge, of course.  Quilting is not a cheap hobby!).

There are also ladies in this group who are members of other guilds, and through one of these wonderful people, I was able to join a second guild and go on my first-ever quilting retreat.  What a wonderful experience!  Twenty or thirty like-minded women, sewing and quilting, talking and laughing, for four or five days together.  It was like a slumber party, but for “queenagers” (a term I got from Facebook, that describes post-teens who “don’t identify as being old.”  Don’t you just love learning new words?). Anyway, a lot of laughing, a lot of learning, and very little sleep all add up to a fun, unforgettable experience that opened new doors for me.

Then Covid hit.

That meant no more guild meetings, either locally or in far-off places.  Quilting was still a thing for me, but it was no longer the shared learning experience I had come to treasure…

…until my far-off guild got a zoom account.  Instead of meeting monthly, our guild started meeting weekly, just to sew together.  Eventually, sewing and quilting became an almost-daily activity on our zoom account, and people would join in when they could.  I became much more productive, learning the whole time and producing quilt tops that I would have never dreamed possible way back when, as I was stitching up my first crib-sized quilt alone in my living room, with the help of a stranger on YouTube.

And oh, yeah, somewhere along the way, I learned the most important accessory of all for successful quilting:  you absolutely must, without question, have a cat.  But then, you met Handsome Sam last time.

That was my Facebook post on September 28, 2020, after the sweetest little kitten showed up at my front door.  I had just lost Kitty, who I thought would be my last-ever furbaby (I’d already gotten rid of all the cat paraphernalia in the house, I was that certain) when this little guy showed up.  He was much too young to be on his own—too young to be away from his mama, even.  I was fairly certain that someone had dumped him (and I won’t tell you what I think of people who can be so cold).

Anyway, after several days of posting his mug on social media, I sat down for a heart-to-heart with him, and we decided (in other words, he told me) he could stay.  He told me his name is Handsome Sam (“but you can call me Sammy”), and he’d be quite pleased to adopt me as his hooman.

And so it began.

There was already a Boston terrier on-site named Martha Jo, and she quite happily took over Sammy’s training—and she taught him how to be a dog.  Poor little guy never stood a chance:  he still comes when he’s called (mostly), eats paper (every chance he gets), and chases and fetches his toy mice (always).  He also has the biggest personality of any cat I’ve ever had (which I absolutely put down to his excellent lessons in how to be a puppy).

He’s also learned how to be a quilting suPURRvisor—

A nutritionist (“Drink your water, Mom!”)—

A peek-a-boo artist—

And a centerfold model—

He also looks good in a bow tie.

That’s my Handsome Sam.  He’s a little spot of sanity in an insane world.

I’ve never made a Quilt of Valor before, so I did my research and got started. The cut squares were seven inches, so the quilt went together surprisingly fast–I completed the top in less than 17 hours. I still need to figure out what fabric to use for the backing (I have some spare blocks left, so I’m hoping to incorporate those into the back). Then I’ll need to do the quilting, but I am very pleased with how the top looks.

Quilts and cats just naturally seem to go together.  As a matter of fact, there are Facebook groups dedicated to this pairing, and thousands of quilters belong to these groups.  I’m one of those.  I’m also a (former) English teacher, so writing is a natural part of me.  Add all that up, and this website was destined to be created. 

That’s Handsome Sam, snoozing on my Aurora Nights quilt.  Well, on his Aurora Nights quilt.  Yes, I made it for me, but he immediately hijacked it—as cats do—so of course, it’s his now.  This is what it looks like when it’s not wearing a cat:

Welcome to my world.