Forward then Reverse

I ground through a lot of gears last week, and I'm not even sure I know what that means because in real life, when it comes to cars, I'm shiftless.

At any rate, I wasn't idle.  Progress was made on the H2H charity quilt, for example.  I got the top sewn together.  Woot!

I also finished a backing for it, using leftover strips, scraps, and trimmings.  What strings I have left may become the binding, if they're wide and long enough.  If not, I'll proceed to plan B, or plan M, as it were.  Daughter M. thinks a navy blue solid binding would be nice.  I can see that.

Someone asked me the names of these fabrics, and I wish I knew.  They were in a boxed quilt kit from JoAnn Fabrics, but I actually found the kit, along with another one, at Goodwill.  They were all decent quality fabrics and seemed to play together well, despite the various different prints.  

As mentioned previously, I used the nine-patch lattice quilt pattern at Oh, Fransson! but made it a couple rows wider/longer.  Mine measures 53 x 68.

Here Come The Judge

Norm needed a break from the routine of sitting around waiting for his fractures to heal, so we ventured to a couple of thrifts a town or two over.  Thrift stores are about the right size for him to amble around on crutches without getting too pooped.  He thought he might be able to do the Super Walm@rt, but I knew that'd be too much at this point, unless he rode the rider cart there, which he refused (can't blame him).

So a-thrift shopping we did go.  At the first little store, there was an sweet ride parked outside.  I remarked to the checker at the register what a cool looking old muscle car that was, and she said, "You mean my car?"  

It was her car!  They were short a vehicle so she had to take the collector car to work.  Gee, that never happens at our house.

I asked if it had been restored and the answer was a surprising no (this is, after all, the Rust Belt).  It is original (except the tires, of course), and they have owned it since 1972.  It is a 1970 Pontiac GTO Judge.  I asked her if I could take some pictures on my way out, and she said to go ahead.

At the second store, Norm pointed out an old guitar, and we both immediately thought of the John Hiatt song, Perfectly Good Guitar.  "Here's your chance, Paulette," he said, "a Harmony with a crack."

Which is what we were looking at, but that wasn't quite right, as far as the lyrics go.  

It started back in 1963

His momma wouldn't buy him that new red Harmony

He settled for a Sunburst with a crack

But he's still trying to break his momma's back

Oh, it breaks my heart to see those stars 

Smashing a perfectly good guitar...

Anyway, I knew what he meant and it was funny just the same.  Wonder how it sounded?  I wasn't going to ask someone to climb seven feet up onto that shelf to fetch it down.

What I did find was a rust brown Steubenville Woodfield plate for 50 cents and some fascinating gargoyle postcards for five cents apiece.  I'm planning to frame some of them to display come Halloween. 

Reverse

Back before I got the quilting bug, I was into genealogy.  One of my shirttail relatives recently asked about a branch of my dad's family he was starting to explore, and I said I would haul out my research and tell him what I knew.

And there went Sunday afternoon and evening.

My great-great-grandfather James Henry Owen c. 1900.  Deeds date to 1850s.

I had forgotten two things (which reminds me of another John Hiatt song*):  (1) how much I enjoy genealogy and (2) how fast the time swirls down the drain as you're pondering the minutiae.  Wow.

Now there's only two things in life,

but I forget what they are.

It seems we're either hanging on a moonbeam's coattails

or wishing on stars...

*Buffalo River Home, by John Hiatt