It might just be time to start a new quilt. With a couple already in progess, I should finish those before embarking on another patchwork mapping. My thoughts don't always complete one foray before delving deep into another. The brain is locking into a pattern and color mix that may require action soon. Winter is, after all, quilting and knitting season. A need to attach small scraps of fabric together to form a more perfect union and embellish them with bits of yarn or thread often hits my psychic imbalance when the weather turns chilly. Purple and green are dancing in my mind with light to darker shades spinning in a colorful array. Fabrics purchased or saved in those hues have lurked in plastic bins stashed away in the basement for several years. Last night I dreamed of touching each piece as I cut the shapes for the quilt that seems to be calling me. In the same dream I was in a city that I recognized but could not name. I awoke knowing the city was familiar, yet not sure when I had been there. The thought of attaching the fabric pieces together gave me a surreal sense of comfort. If I make the quilt, will it show me the way to the mystery town? When I can identify the city, will I still need to sew the quilt?

PeacefulEasy Feelin'

Our local theatre often attracts one night stands from acts currently featured in the entertainment mecca just across the lake and up the river a bit. Last night we totally enjoyed the performance of a band that sounded very much like one of our favorites from the past. Many of the shows in Branson are tributes to performers from the fifties, sixties and even some from the seventies, so we purchased the tickets for this show with only mild interest. The band exceeded all our expectations and left us wanting to hear them again. The harmonies were amazing and each member of the band exhibited a unique talent as they played to a crowd of baby boomers. We found ourselves jiggling in our seats, tapping our feet and clapping our hands in time to the music. The little theatre here boasts of acoustics well suited to the musical talent we sometimes attract, and last night we heard the proof. The group is call "Take it to the Limit" and they pushed the envelope of Eagles music. I'm thinking it won't be long until we plan an evening in Branson to hear them again.

Just a little Dirt

The first killing freeze occurred on Friday night. I was devastated since my daffodil bulbs remain in the downstairs fridge awaiting a prepared flower bed for planting. All my prevous experience indicates the bulbs must be under nine inches of soil prior to the first freeze! Ol' Abner had promised to prepare a raised flower bed for me at each corner of the driveway. The ground here is very rocky. Digging with a trowel will give way to a tiny indentation about two inches deep before hitting a bit of solid rock. A pickaxe breaks one rock up only to unearth another. Clearly we need a load of topsoil to fill in the gaps where rocks are removed. Our neighbor, Digger Dude aka Ol' Excavator, lamented that he had no topsoil on hand and didn't expect to have any soon. Ol' Abner suggested we just go buy some bagged topsoil and save the trouble of having a truck haul it in. Measuring the flower bed areas, he estimated we would need about a cubic yard of topsoil. That's about one truck load, I think. When we priced the bags at the home improvement store, we concluded we were definitely in the wrong business. Dirt in a bag containing .75 cubic feet of topsoil looked tiny. Each small bag was priced at just under $2. Quickly doing the math, we decided having a truckload haul it in might not only be easier on the pocket, but definitely easier than loading and emptying sixty or so of the tiny but heavy parcels. Remembering another contractor with piles of dirt at his storage lot, we drove by and took down the number to call for topsoil delivery. That was four days ago...and the call has not yet been returned. It's deer season in dogpatch...bet the phone is turned off so his prey won't be spooked!

Rock the Vote

Yesterday was election day. National races changed the balance of power in Washington, while local races left us with the same old status quo. Our little town of 2000 is the largest city in the county. Our much loved mayor died a few months ago and his replacement was appointed by the city council. The interim mayor had served on the city council for several years with a clear desire for more power. Attempts at various times past were squelched by the mayors with whom he served. As a retired police captain from the big windy city, his point of view differed greatly from most local citizens, one being yours truly. Fees for permits have increased steadily at his behest with most council members simply acquiescing to his recommendation. Speed limits have been reset and officers instructed to fill the city coffers with ticket revenue. Signs were removed for no reason other than he personally thought them unnecessary. We are a town of many tourists, most citizens thought a sign directing to the golf course wise...but our newly appointed mayor had the marker removed just after taking office with no notice or warning to the golf course owner. Strange that he and the owner of the golf course had exchanged unfriendly words more than a few times. City employees have been on edge as they must enforce each new edict. In my opinion, his opponent should have had an easy win. After all I voted for him. Small town politics just defies the imagination.

Just over 750 registered voters reside in our town. The polls were packed all day with long lines waiting to cast ballots. Word was out via radio and internet that some of the polling places in our county had experienced problems with the voting machines. When the polls closed at 7:30 long lines were still in place. It took a full hour for the last of the ballots to be completed. At midnight when we went to bed, only the early votes had been counted and it was difficult to predict the outcome. This morning's paper of course had no answers, and the newspaper website proclaimed that results would be available very soon at six a.m., and repeated that promise every few minutes until after ten o'clock. I finally put a leash on the critter and we strolled around to Mrs Paw-lie to see if she had any insight. Of course she knew the answer and was just as stunned by the victory of our newly elected Bully in Chief. Yep, even in a tiny burg it would appear that few were even aware of our new mayor's ambitious plans for the city. Final vote tally was 450 to 300...looks like everyone in town voted, yet no one will admit to being one of the 450. Dare I wonder if shenanigans occurred in Dogpatch....

Planning

Ol' Abner has a dental appointment today. I'll ride along since it is scheduled in the capital city three hours south of our spot in Dogpatch. We usually enjoy a little shopping and better restaurant choices on these excursions. Traveling with a current list of things to find in the shopping mecca requires a quick inventory of the the freezer and pantry. I'm feeling the urge to redecorate the bedroom, so a visit to some of the home decor shops might be in order. The rustic look I have enjoyed so long is wearing on my nerves and I'm ready for a fresh new look. Just haven't quite nailed down the concept I want. The ride to and from followed by the wait while he is attended allows lots of time for contemplation. Maybe I'll take along a magazine with ideas and just kick back and listen to my IPod while I look at other people's color schemes and themes!