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Spring teases us here on the Rhonda Lou in Oklahoma. One day or two in the
70's, next day down to 40's keeps us at the end of a yo-yo. Unlike my friends I’m not wishing for spring.
There are still wintertime chores to complete, although I am closing in on the list. Not quite all
the cleaning is done I still have kitchen cabinets to reline. The book shelves have been
dusted and arranged, again. Rod put up the new French door onto the back porch and they
are lovely. Rhonda no longer has to struggle to open heavy sliding glass doors.
I’ve been waiting for a couple warm days to paint the hallway. The Grinder Café
redecorated with southwestern muted tones of earth and sky colors. I love that and will try
to put that in the hallway. Maybe a southwestern border print along the top of the walls
might work.
The 8x10 foot painting is quite done with sealers in place. Rod is designing a way to hang
that over one section of the wall where the book shelves are. He thinks he can hang it a bit
out from the books so that we can slip in behind if we need one or another book. I don’t use
them that much anymore not with this computer having all reference material just a touch
away. My tiny living room hopefully will be given some length and breadth with buffalo
wading through a landscape of water and distant hills.
Quilts have been finished just in time for grand kid’s wintery cool at night rooms, as well as
other pieces cut for more quilts.
A joyful event on the Collin’s side is for the spring and I’m busy with making bibs big
enough to cover baby, burp cloths for Mama’s shoulder, satin baby quilts, and whatever else
to go in a gift box. The mama saw baby’s picture on the ultrasound and called me from her
place across the state.
“She has curls all over her head, Colleen!” The new mother happily exclaimed. In my
mind I’m seeing a baby girl with auburn red curly hair.
I’m taken back to a happiest of times in my childhood when the Collins family called me
Colleen (pronounced Kah-Leen) this girl inherited from her father’s ways. They always, too, prided themselves on whatever it is to give them that intrinsic gift of understanding for when
a family member was in need of a soft touch of affection no matter how many miles
separated them.
And so life goes here on the Rhonda Lou all filled with the joys of contented hearts
made possible by simply overlooking the irregular and the imperfect.
70's, next day down to 40's keeps us at the end of a yo-yo. Unlike my friends I’m not wishing for spring.
There are still wintertime chores to complete, although I am closing in on the list. Not quite all
the cleaning is done I still have kitchen cabinets to reline. The book shelves have been
dusted and arranged, again. Rod put up the new French door onto the back porch and they
are lovely. Rhonda no longer has to struggle to open heavy sliding glass doors.
I’ve been waiting for a couple warm days to paint the hallway. The Grinder Café
redecorated with southwestern muted tones of earth and sky colors. I love that and will try
to put that in the hallway. Maybe a southwestern border print along the top of the walls
might work.
The 8x10 foot painting is quite done with sealers in place. Rod is designing a way to hang
that over one section of the wall where the book shelves are. He thinks he can hang it a bit
out from the books so that we can slip in behind if we need one or another book. I don’t use
them that much anymore not with this computer having all reference material just a touch
away. My tiny living room hopefully will be given some length and breadth with buffalo
wading through a landscape of water and distant hills.
Quilts have been finished just in time for grand kid’s wintery cool at night rooms, as well as
other pieces cut for more quilts.
A joyful event on the Collin’s side is for the spring and I’m busy with making bibs big
enough to cover baby, burp cloths for Mama’s shoulder, satin baby quilts, and whatever else
to go in a gift box. The mama saw baby’s picture on the ultrasound and called me from her
place across the state.
“She has curls all over her head, Colleen!” The new mother happily exclaimed. In my
mind I’m seeing a baby girl with auburn red curly hair.
I’m taken back to a happiest of times in my childhood when the Collins family called me
Colleen (pronounced Kah-Leen) this girl inherited from her father’s ways. They always, too, prided themselves on whatever it is to give them that intrinsic gift of understanding for when
a family member was in need of a soft touch of affection no matter how many miles
separated them.
And so life goes here on the Rhonda Lou all filled with the joys of contented hearts
made possible by simply overlooking the irregular and the imperfect.