domesticat's blog


Over years of texting and communicating through IM, you develop linguistic conventions that communicate emotion even through the impersonal medium of text. For me, an ever-present one has been the ellipsis; it denotes a moment without words. Often it's slackjawed astonishment. Sometimes it's laughter.

Yesterday it was tears.

We're professionals. Don't try this at home.

A short, sweet note: I owe both Brian and Crystal massive hugs of thanks. Both of them came to stay with me this weekend, and they asked what I needed. I hated admitting it, but what I needed was help housecleaning. Not just superficial tidying, but a really deep and thorough cleaning -- the kind of cleaning that helps set your house to rights.

Spring cleaning. Well, winter cleaning. I couldn't hold until spring, not with the house in the state it was and Jeff still hospitalized.

The memory keeper

I have held off writing for nearly 11 weeks. In that time, I didn't write at first because I was afraid you would never be able to read my words. Later, I was afraid of what would happen to me if I started to speak; I feared that if I opened my mouth at all, I would start screaming and just not know how to stop. How would that help anyone?

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In for a penny, in for a pound...

I spent a good chunk of the Super Bowl continuing repair work on the 1880s scrap quilt, Oregon Trail. It's been a bit disheartening at times; I keep reminding myself that everything I fix means this will be a better and stronger quilt when it is finally finished, but I've reached that psychological point where I'm ready to just be done with mending the damned thing already, and getting the reward of moving on to quilting it.

scalpel of choice

I've been a bit remiss. I have been working on a quilt project but haven't been posting about it. I have been taking photos, though.


I did finally finish the top for 'Linus' but the only photo I have of it right now is a crappy fluorescent-lit shot:

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