I had the oddest dream last night. Someone (friend, acquaintance, stranger?) I can’t quite remember was showing me an amazing quilt she’d made. As I was pouring over the details, I discovered on one of the blocks that she had couched around the design with an exquisite cord. When I exclaimed how much I adored couching, she corrected me calling it ruching.
It was absolutely not ruching. I love ruching also. Comparing ruching to couching is like comparing a monkey to an onion. In my dream, I explained the difference to her. She got very angry and told me I had no idea of what I was talking about.
I in turn got upset enough that I woke up. Now, how retarded is that?
I also tossed and turned, thinking about that dang quilt on the longarm. Obviously, Miss Myrtle, my personal Jiminy Cricket, muse, and sometimes nemesis, snuck into my bed last night and spent her time devilishly taunting me about my lack of motivation when it comes to finishing the darn thing. And here I actually did quilt on it for a whole hour yesterday! It’s hardly my fault that I’d barely gotten started when it started thundering outside and I had to power everything down.
Sometimes I have bad dreams about that little mouse too. Don’t tell her, but I think I like her better when she hibernates. It was bad enough when she found a fiddle of her own, I keep expecting her to pop up next to my mug of coffee with a whip in hand!
This morning I’m going to hit the trail as soon as it’s light enough to walk, then come home, start Cosmo’s chicken and gravy batch for the week, and with any luck, spend the day on the longarm. If not the day, at least a couple of hours!