Schizophrenic, Near Philadelphia

When Sherry was a little girl, perhaps about three years old, she coined a word that Joe and I have used ever since. We no longer remember what it was in reference to, but in describing the color of something, she deemed it to be "pinkish."

And "pinkish" is what Joe said when I came home on Saturday after spending much of the day sewing with two dozen other women down at the church. I was making square in a square in a square blocks from the Kaffe (or perhaps Kaffeish) fabrics. I had the half-dozen or so FQs that I'd acquired earlier and then when Glorious Color posted on Facebook that they had scrap bags, I ordered one of those and was amazed at how many of the offerings fit right in.

I'm not far from finishing this top. This top that I made the first four blocks for on Friday. I have to sew the rows together (not my favorite part), put the remaining two side borders on, and decide about a real border. I have a consultant waiting in the wings for that last.

The schizo thing is, I do this by daylight and in the evenings, when I sit with Himself watching West Wing reruns from Netflix (we're half-way through Season 5 [there are 7 seasons]), I am hand appliqueing Dresden Plates made from Civil War repros. Anybody see a disconnect here?