As we were driving past the line of brightly lit storefronts,
my oldest son blurted something out from the back seat.
A portrait painting with barely a face,
a knitted sweater with no arms,
a wooden chair with not enough legs.
a metal clock with no hands . . .
Island of Misfit Projects.
A speckled wall that still needs painting.
piles of papers that still need filing,
kitchen chairs that need tightening,
a broken bookshelf that needs repairing . . .
Suddenly, I realized, my dream had crossed over to reality.
THAT'S MY HOUSE.
And, then, a brilliant thought came over me.
I could start charging money every time someone enters my home.
Technically, though, "unfinished" is not the same as "quitting".
I do intend to finish those projects . . . some day.
Maybe after Christmas.
"Mom!" my thoughts were interrupted. "What's a QUILTERS studio?"
"A place where people go to buy materials and get ideas for making quilts," I responded.
"What KIND of quilts?" he asked.
"You know, like, blankets, comforters, bedspreads . . . hand stitched and embroidered. There are people who do that," I responded.
With a look on his face, as if I had just given him the most bizarre piece of information, and it was his job to solve this "problem", he said,
"Can't they just buy one at Bed, Bath & Beyond???"
my oldest son blurted something out from the back seat.
"QUITTERS studio???"
I turned my head in the direction where he was looking, and could not help but laugh.
"QUILTERS studio," I corrected.
It did not compute.
"O-kay, sooooooo, what's a QUILTERS Studio???"
But, he had already lost me.
I was much too distracted
imagining what a "QUITTERS" studio would look like -
a guilt free zone filled with unfinished projects.
"O-kay, sooooooo, what's a QUILTERS Studio???"
But, he had already lost me.
I was much too distracted
imagining what a "QUITTERS" studio would look like -
a guilt free zone filled with unfinished projects.
A portrait painting with barely a face,
a knitted sweater with no arms,
a wooden chair with not enough legs.
a metal clock with no hands . . .
Island of Misfit Projects.
A speckled wall that still needs painting.
piles of papers that still need filing,
kitchen chairs that need tightening,
a broken bookshelf that needs repairing . . .
Suddenly, I realized, my dream had crossed over to reality.
THAT'S MY HOUSE.
And, then, a brilliant thought came over me.
I could start charging money every time someone enters my home.
"Welcome to my home!" I would say.
"Please enjoy and appreciate my unfinished projects.
And, don't forget to enjoy the unfinished cookies and coffee, as well."
"Please enjoy and appreciate my unfinished projects.
And, don't forget to enjoy the unfinished cookies and coffee, as well."
Technically, though, "unfinished" is not the same as "quitting".
I do intend to finish those projects . . . some day.
Maybe after Christmas.
"Mom!" my thoughts were interrupted. "What's a QUILTERS studio?"
"A place where people go to buy materials and get ideas for making quilts," I responded.
"What KIND of quilts?" he asked.
"You know, like, blankets, comforters, bedspreads . . . hand stitched and embroidered. There are people who do that," I responded.
With a look on his face, as if I had just given him the most bizarre piece of information, and it was his job to solve this "problem", he said,
"Can't they just buy one at Bed, Bath & Beyond???"
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