The day started with vaccines and the quick reminder that a 5 year old facing a needle (even hours before the needle) becomes a cross between an emotional Oscar winner and an ultimate fighting champion. Little Man on the other hand just voiced his displeasure, shot me an accusing pout and then just as quickly moved on at the sight of a few gummi bears (when it comes to needles, 2 isn't so terrible after all).
After the drama and ouchies had passed, the better part of the afternoon was spent twisted and sprawled across the living room floor pinning fabric for my patchwork quilt. This is my second quilt (ever...and in the past 4 months) and I am once again struck by the realization that I love love love the piecework part, and am completely daunted by the giant assembly part. I'm definitely feeling less trepidation this time around, but am blown away by the size. Somehow, this "throw" has grown way bigger in reality than it seemed when I was cutting isolated pieces. It's safe to say that "throw" is as big as I ever wish to go (famous last words - please feel free to stage an intervention if you ever seen the words "quilt" and "king" in this space).