A Tinge of Sadness

 

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Back in May, we went to a restaurant to celebrate a special occasion, a restaurant we had not been to in years. Our entrees were delicious, but the waitress was sour. In her bad mood, or what could have been her usual grumpy disposition, she put a damper on the experience. She ignored us, did not ask if we needed anything, and barely opened her mouth, let alone, smiled. We chose not to tell her about the special occasion; I doubt it would have made any difference in her demeanor. On the way out, we skipped on complaining to the management or scrimping on the tip. 

    This unsavory incident was most unusual, as generally, when we eat out, we meet a friendly, efficient staff. I have never been a waitress (although I've served plenty of people), and I am sure that waitressing is challenging work, and that some customers can be curmudgeons, but a server taking out a bad day, or a bad life, on her diners is not a good thing. I left the restaurant feeling sad for her and for us as well. 

A Star is Born

 

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In 2019 I came up with the hairbrained idea of making another quilt. This time, I would size it to fit our bed, which I had not done before. All of my other quilts are hanging over bannisters, resting in folds at the foot of beds, or lounging on the backs of chairs and racks. This one would be different; we would sleep under it. It would fit our queen size mattress and come down to the dust ruffle. That was the criteria, and my needle and thread would be coaxed toward that goal.

    As usual, when I sprint down the quilt trail, I jump in on all fours and start cutting and stitching, not stopping to eat a sandwich, not thinking about the future, and certainly not planning how I will accomplish certain maneuvers along my quilt making way. This failure to appropriately plan creates the potential for a disaster, but as the instructor of my first quilt course once said, "There is no mistake that cannot be fixed."