Strange Little Collecting Project

Growing up, I was always puzzled when people would say that someone wanted to “have their cake and eat it, too.” It just seemed like one of those duh statements. Who in their right mind would have cake and not want to eat it? I guess if you were a diabetic, or had a gluten allergy, or if it was a cake made out of crap, then no. You’re right. You should not eat that cake that you have. But wanting to eat the cake that you have seemed so logical to me that for the longest time I thought people used this saying when they wanted to compliment someone. They were saying that these people who have their cake and eat it too were the smartest people around. It did confuse me a little bit because most people seemed to use a negative tone when they said this, and I couldn’t really figure out why someone would be upset with this cake-eating person for doing what seemed to make sense. I guess I assumed that the people who used this saying were just jealous because they didn’t have any cake

An impressive colony of ants has migrated into my kitchen. They’ve apparently had a very successful migration since a few days ago I was only noticing one or two ants foraging around my countertop looking for a crumb to take back to their starving queen and kids. Within a few days, these same ants were having an Ant Independence Day parade across my countertop and up my wall. Based on the flow of traffic, they’ve set up an impressive metropolitan area inside a box of off-brand Frosted Mini-Wheats. It’s crazy to think that just days ago, the charter members of the Kitchen Counter Ant Colony were living such a primitive existence on my kitchen countertops, completely exposed to the elements and the daily attack of the tsunami like force of my dishrag that would sweep them into that menacing black-hole of death (known to you and me as the garbage disposal). Just like everything else in my life, I’ve managed to over-analyze this situation. And because I usually analyze things in the

Most Sunday afternoons you can find me at my mother's, sitting around her dining room table that is much too big for the small breakfast nook in her apartment. We usually spend a few hours every Sunday sewing together. It's a cozy Sunday and quiet Sunday afternoon, the loudest noises coming from the steady whir of our sewing machines. We have to slide and shuffle around one another to use the ironing board or get a re-fill of unsweet tea (something I learned to love because of my mother). I usually sew a few sets of cloth napkins for my etsy shop while my mother is busy hemming a pair of pants for one of her sisters, moving a button for someone at work, or sewing up a hole in someone's favorite sweater. When she isn't working on those small projects for other people, my mom is learning how to quilt. This year, she decided that she wanted to learn how to quilt. She finished her first quilt that was covered in daisies in time for Aunt Bobbie's birthday. By mid Apri