The Little Things — Janet Szabo

Sometimes it is the little things that make our lives so much easier. I have a hard time keeping track of my fabric cutting rulers on my cutting table. If I lay them down on the table, they are in the way. If I set them on the shelf next to the table, then I forget where I put them.

I bought a Riley Blake Ruler Pal Mini yesterday at the quilt store. What a difference:

Now my rulers are out of the way when I am not using them, but within arm’s reach when I need one. Even my big 9-1/2” x 24” ruler fits in the holder nicely.

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One of our chicks has a lame foot. (See it sticking out on the left side of the picture?)

It’s hard to tell because her crooked foot hasn’t slowed her down any. She wouldn’t stand still long enough for me to get a good picture. I am not too worried about her getting picked on because her mother was a Light Brahma. She is big enough to hold her own against the other chicks. And she is very sweet. She is the first one to come running into the coop when she sees me, because she wants to be at the head of the line for scratch grains.

While it is fun to incubate eggs and hatch out chicks, I’ve really had to watch that I don’t get too attached to this group. We don’t want our livestock to become pets. (I do bend that rule a teeny-tiny bit for my roosters.)

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Something has been chewing on my State Fair apple:

I need to ask Susan what it might be. I got up there yesterday and cut out the damaged branch and threw it into the burn barrel. Hopefully that is the end of the problem. I haven’t had to spray my trees yet, but I might just have been lucky.

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One of the habits I have tried to maintain over the past several months is to spend some time every day processing the changes this year has brought. Sometimes I do that over discussions with the husband. Sometimes I do it while I am sewing or working in the garden. The point of that exercise is to confront the reality I see and not hide in the reality I wish I saw. For example, I knew that there might come a day when my frequent road trips got curtailed, although I assumed that would be because of a spike in fuel prices and not because of a pandemic. I knew there might come a day when we had supply chain disruptions, although I am a bit baffled at the shortages. Bleach and Lysol wipes?—okay, that sort of makes sense. Black Kona?—I did not see that one coming.

I was telling the husband last night that all of a sudden, Wheat Montana flour has disappeared from store shelves. I bought some two weeks ago so I would have it on hand for making zucchini bread, but I’m almost out (and my recipe uses both unbleached and whole wheat). I am particular about using Wheat Montana flour because they do not use glyphosate on their crops. Hopefully this is just a seasonal shortage and not something more dire, but it’s odd to have seen it two weeks ago and now not be able to find it anywhere. (I checked several stores.) And I haven’t run into this problem in the past.

Amy Dingmann, who hosts the Farmish Kind of Life podcast, posed an interesting question on social media yesterday. She asked, “What if 2020 is just the trailer for 2021?” She then went on to point out that people in 1929 had no idea that they were at the start of a depression that lasted for years. What if things don’t get “back to normal” in 2021? Or for the next five years? Or never? I have two choices: stick my fingers in my ears and say, “La la la la la,” or pay attention and adjust accordingly. Humans have an amazing capacity for denial. I won’t allow myself to fall into that trap.

Happy Saturday! As some of my friends say—“Get out there and move that needle!” although that makes me laugh because the needle I want to move is the one on my sewing machine.