A Work in Progress

That's the saying on the sign that my daughter hung when my husband turned 60 (60!) a few weeks ago. The sign stayed up for my birthday last Saturday. I don't know about the "perfection" part, but I certainly as getting more aged by the minute. In years past, I've started a new project on my birthday. But you've all seen the list of my WIPs, so you know I can't justify a new start. I saw Robin working on this Lizzie Kate chart, The ABCs of Aging Artfully, during our guild meeting on Saturday. Since I already had it in progress, I pulled it out and put some more stitches in it. The plan is to do a letter per day--that's the plan anyway. I'm thinking that it will be made into a pillow to put on my rocking chair.

Twenty-four years ago last night, my husband and I spent our last evening as just a couple. We cooked a favorite dinner, Szechuan chicken, and watched the news showing the Challenger disaster over and over again. Our first baby was 19 days overdue and I was scheduled to have labor induced the next morning. We got up early the morning of the 29th, paused to take a picture of a very pregnant me in front of the fireplace, said goodbye to the dog and headed to the hospital on some snowy roads. The doctor assured me I would have the baby by dinnertime. Well, our son arrived not-so-fashionably late around 10:30 that night after a long, difficult labor and delivery. I didn't get to hold him for the first 45 minutes since I wasn't in such great shape. He was born on a Wednesday night and I couldn't get out of bed until Friday afternoon. The woman in the bed next to me had had her third C-section and was far more mobile than I. When I went for a Lamaze refresher course near

This is our daughter's 18th birthday, and coincidentally, my brother's birthday. They were born 40 years apart--you do the math. My third pregnancy was a surprise. I don't usually tell people since I don't think it's fair to my daughter to advertise that. I'm sure none of you will break it to her, though. Because I was an "older" mother--all of 38--I had some genetic testing done early in the pregnancy. The alpha fetal protein test, the one that checks for neural tube deficits like spina bifida, came back positive twice and I ended up having to have amniocentesis. We chose not to find out the baby's gender. My daughter was due on December 12 and early in December, my doctor was telling me that it would be any day. On the 12th I had definite signs that labor should begin soon, but nothing happened. On the 17th, I went to the hospital to be induced. On the way, my husband and I speculated about what the baby would look like. We already had a boy wi

Today's my birthday (56--I know I mentioned it awhile back, but thought I would refresh the memories of any readers who, like me, have "senior moments"). When I turned 50, I used the occasion to start a new cross stitch project and I continued that on each of my birthdays thereafter. Here's a photo of Elizabeth Rush which I started when I turned 50: And one of Spanish Wine that I started on another birthday: (Sorry about the photo. It's a rainy day here in the Philadelphia area which should relieve some of the heat we've had the past week or so. Perfect for sitting on the couch and stitching.) And a photo of my progress on Nutmeg Needle's Patchwork Pieces that I started last year: The Keep Me Sampler was also a birthday start. Looking at these projects I know two things--where all of my needles go (each of these pieces has at least one stuck in it) and that I have a short attention span. So, on this birthday, my new start isn't a new project, but rath

Can it really be FORTY years since the first moon landing??? I remember it as if it was almost yesterday. I was a mere child of 15, volunteering for the summer at a state institution for the mentally handicapped. This was about 50 miles from my home, so my fellow volunteers and I were housed in a dorm on the campus of a community college. One of the college students set up a TV with about a 15" screen in the common room and we all watched the historic event. Only 40 years since we've been able to say "We can put a man on the moon, but. . ." The moon landing is just one of the historical events that I try not to let my elementary students know that I've witnessed first hand. Not that they would be able to calculate how old I am, but their parents and even more importantly, their teachers (my co-workers) can. I've now reached that certain age where I am the second oldest faculty member at one of my schools and believe me, the parents and teachers look y