Let’s start with the first item: summer’s hot, and yessiree it is.  Tomorrow is supposed to be 108.  This is a good time to stay inside and keep getting better, which leads us to the second item: recovery.

Here are some of my recovery activities, omitting the one I do most: lay on the bed.  I finished up my Rosette #3 in periwinkles, blue and purples (below) and started putting Rosette #4 together.  The photo in the upper left took about a week to do, in twenty minute intervals off the pillow.  I continued sewing up little felt creations from kits I’d picked up at quilt shows (why do I buy these?) and thought I’d finished them all.  However, I found another batch in the closet yesterday.  My husband took me for a Big Day Out to Cinnabon, and I could only eat half of a mini, a side-effect of surgery.  Nightly I would I arrange my applesauce and spoon for the 3 a.m. pain meds routine, which I am happy to say, as of today, has been phased out.  However, I am still in my nightgown, so be sure to call first before showing up on my doorstep.

I have spent an inordinate amount of time stitching while watching movies, because I am always tired and because apparently I had a serious case of Bonzo-Brain (from the effects of the anesthesia and pain killers).  I found this out because my son told me I was “a lot more coherent than last time we talked.”  And my husband says “you’re more alert now.”  And my mother says “you are sounding so much better today.”  Good to know that I have people who love me and will humor me when I am functioning at toddler level.

Here’s the center of Rosette #4, all sewn up.  It may take me another week to get the next round, at the rate I’m going.

Because I now also apparently function at teenager level with my phone in my hand while I lie in bed (tablets are too big and a laptop is way out of the question), I discovered the Chuck Nohara Instagram group and fell in love with these amazing little six-inch appliqué blocks.

Which led to the QuiltMania website and the purchase of this book, which may or may not have had the most expensive postage I’ve ever encountered in my life.  Even accounting for the lack of critical thinking during the Bonzo-Brain state, I was pretty freaked out.

Which has led to my obsessive compulsion with tracking the dumb thing.  That book is going way more interesting places than the Cinnabon shop at the mall.  (Attention FED EX: For the record,  I live in California.  Why is it stopping in Memphis?)

But there are two things that have gotten me through these past few weeks. The first and foremost has been my amazing husband, always asking me if he can do something for me, putting lotion on my toes and pulling up the covers for me in the middle of the night (because I can’t reach either of them).  He has cooked for me, done the wash, brought in the mail, fixed me fresh orange juice every morning and taken me to the doctor appointments.  He listens to me when I cry, reminding me that I will be in recovery for 6-8 weeks and it’s only nearing the end of week three and would I like to get out and take a drive?  And we do and I stop crying and take a deep breath at how beautiful the world is, even if the temperatures are soaring.

Then I go and lay on the bed, my phone in my hand and read about you all on blogs and IG, distracting me in a lovely way from this work I am doing at getting better.  This is the other thing that has gotten me through: my family, friends, and the sweet messages of hope and encouragement and inspiration from you, just like we were all girlfriends hanging out together in our jammies, drinking root beer and playing records and the ukulele.  I am always amazed at how much we have come to know each other through correspondence and sharing activities, as well as quilting together.

Thank you all, so very much.  You kind attentions have made my tough summer a bit more easy.

All the nice nurses lined up to greet me

Last week I walked into our local hospital and two days later, was wheeled out in one of my new nightgowns, a vase of flowers on my lap while the two volunteer interns pushing my wheelchair commented to each other about the weather, the construction at the hospital, and about another volunteer that was not a favorite.  It was the first time I’d been outside since the surgery to rearrange my clockworks and I was thinking about the sunlight, the slight breeze and whether or not my husband would back into the construction truck which had parked so strangely in his path.  It was surreal.  When I walked in, the possibility of the Big C was dangling over my head and I’m happy to say that the initial reports are that this diagnosis was carried away in the sunny breezes of that hot morning.

Aside from a brief mention of the process in this post, I’ve kept this pretty quiet as I lurched all summer from doctor’s appointment to scan to oncologist to OB-GYN’s office, not trusting the emotion, not knowing where the path would lead.

I had intended to keep it quiet still, as we here in QuiltLand tend to prefer our blog posts to be bursting with sunshine, little blue birds, some snippets of song, and fabric fabric fabric.  However, when I realized that the recovery was going to be loooong, I might need to explain my absence.

I’ve recovered enough to now sit at the computer for whole stretches of minutes, but do most of my reading in bed with my tablet.  I thought I’d share one or two interesting bits from QuiltLand that I thought you might enjoy.  Stephanie Ruyle’s latest blog post, where she shows her magnificent quilt, Ember, is a great description of using up scraps, making them into art (no photos of this one–go over to see it).

We also had our recent Four-in-Art Reveal and while I loved all of the offerings this time, Catherine’s choice of poem, Mrs. Midas, and her resultant art quilt are a magnificent pairing. Maybe it’s because I’m feeling a bit imprisoned by convalescence that I related to what Mrs. Midas was saying.  I also liked the speech on quilting, given by a sitting criminal court judge in Canada.  He writes amusingly about his wife’s passion of quilting; although long, it’s worth a read.

My minutes are up, so it’s time to go.  On the positive side, my husband says I’m more alert now than when I walked in last week, woozy from anesthesia and painkillers.  I am hoping for incremental progress every day, knowing that the average recovery for this type of surgery is 6-8 weeks.  On the negative side, I’ll cry (more) if I can’t get back to the quilting, but never fear!  I’ve been able to pick up the hand sewing, so at least the hexies are coming together bit by bit.  I hope that whatever summer fun you are doing, you’ll let me know–I can live vicariously though you all at this time.  I may not have the stamina to write back immediately, but I will certainly read everything, and appreciate whatever you share.