So, a "seam ripper" walks into a bar...

(note: for those who are interested, the It's Cherry Pie blog has just been updated)

Posting screeched to a halt this past week as I spent most of my computer time desperately trying to come up with my next article for Quilter's Home. My pieces now need to be around 1000 words, and when you are writing in a niche as small as quilting humor, that can seem like being asked to write War and Peace, only keep it to just war, or really, you know, just the fight you had with your wife about who's supposed to take the trash out.

After days of staring blankly at my computer screen I had two ideas - one which I had started months ago and never went anywhere - and a new one.  Ultimately, the new idea prevailed, and though I would have sworn to you on Tuesday that my career was over, by yesterday afternoon, I had a pretty damn good piece in the can. I sent it off to my editors, who usually email me back saying, "I'll read it soon, I promise!" because they're so busy trying to do the work of 20 people to get this magazine out. But yesterday, I got the first email back within minutes, the other only a few hours later, and both said, (I'm paraphrasing here) OMG, DO YOU SACRIFICE BUNNIES TO SATAN TO BE THIS FUNNY? I love them, I really do, and someday I will sacrifice something to my dark master in their honor.

Progress on the baby quilt continues apace, but it turns out that the person for whom it is intended has been secretly reading this blog for some time now, and so posting any more pictures would spoil the surprise. So this obviously means that I have to go back to figuring out what to make for my plane ticket benefactor, and work on it at the same time so that I have something that is actually quilt-related to write about here (well, other than sex toy hacks).

In other news, my landlord, whom I adore, just asked if we would be interested in purchasing the house we are renting. And I thought, you know, I'm only 40 years old. I'm not sure I'm mature enough to be a homeowner yet, even if I could afford it, which I'm not sure I can. Right now, when the sink clogs, someone else has to fix it. If we own our own house, you know who will be fixing the sink clogs? Me. David's answer would be to go buy caustic chemicals that eat through pipes. Or use another sink. Or move to a motel. I would not only be the sole person in the household who cares about cleaning, but I would have to become the handyman as well, and I don't have time to grout the toilet or scrape the duct bushings, or whatever. I have dildo jokes to write.