I spent the morning starting the drudgery part of finishing the two bed size quilts in process. First an hour removing paper from the paper-pieced blue and whtie stars -- this was the second hour spent on the job and I've got another two hours to go... I love paper piecing except for this step. Then I spent a couple of hours quilting Leslie's cat quilt -- made from the Laurel Birch fabric Lynn sent me. What Leslie needs is more cats -- she has three, just gave away four kittens [and is feelng lonely without them]. Many more hours are needed to finish the quilting and then binding but I hope to get it done this month. Both these jobs send me into the mental state -- sort of -- that I think of as the Zen of quilting. Repetitious, time to watch the breath as classical music plays, otherwise clear the mind. The pictures also emphasize the crunch of working on a 1x5' Parsons Table area! And the lack of light now due to the @#%^&^%#% new building blocking my sky. I escaped these jobs around noon when I went down to the main NYC post office [open 24/7/365]. Many others had the idea of getting packages in the mail before tomorrow's rate hike. Very long line, very long wait. I always marvel how patient New Yorkers can be. No muttering, just some cell phone talking and shifting from foot to foot. I hate to see postage going up but its a minor expense compared to the annual discussion in the City Council of how much the rent will be allowed to go up.
But not everyone is patient and polite. It was a lovely, lovely day so I wandered over to the Sunday flea market on Columbus Ave, chatted with some venders, bought a pair of earrings and marveled at sunburst style pins made of colored and exotic feathers. The artisan/vender says she goes to Paris, buys feathered objects in flea markets and takes the feathers off and uses them. They were marvelous, perhaps I should hae asked her if I could take a photo but I was a bit afraid she would think I was trying to rip off her idea. Eventually I got to the exit where a wonderful couple sell baked good. I was in a long messy line with my 7 grain bread and strawberry-rhubbard pie when two men in front of me got in an arguement about who was next. Sarcasm as only aggrieved New Yorkers burst out with --- well, maybe not only New Yorkers for in other countries I can't understand the language. It was not an unusual exchange and no one else remarked -- we just waited it out. Such is life in an overcrowded metropolis. And here with is the picture I should have posted last Sunday about the fried snacks, ...Yuck!
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!