What’s in a Name?

WASD nametagNames are arbitrary labels.

So what’s in a name?

I found shock, confusion, and a little fear.

That would be understandable with names like Hannibal Lecter, The Joker, or Brutus… our neighbor’s ferocious Chihuahua. However all those same emotions ran through me when I happened upon my own name on Facebook.

I think I need to explain. . . I belong to several quilt groups on Facebook. Where Gladys, Judy, Jenny, and Benny and 125,000 other members post pictures of their talents. So one day I open up Facebook and right before my eyes? A post by… Ellen Peterson!!!

Wait, that’s me!

Except …GASP… I didn’t post anything.

 My first reaction was, “Oh Dingle-Berries… I’ve been hacked! My identity had been stolen.” That’s when I noticed the avatar was different. So I introduced myself to this new Ellen who was using my name.

We exchanged a few pleasantries then moved to Messenger for a deeper discussion. Ellen Peterson (the not me Ellen Peterson) is from Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Is a sweet lady who not only quilts but is easy to talk to.

Last weekend she messaged me that she was going to a quilt retreat. I would have loved to have joined her except for the 45 hour, 3,096 mile drive. Maybe some day we will quilt together. Who knows. But for now rest assured…

the Ellen Peterson Bookends have both coasts covered…in QUILTS! 

and I agree with William when he asks. . .

Name. Shakespeare

Until next time… 



Accepting Imperfection

WASD imperfect nail.

I follow a lot of quilting online. Blogs, Facebook groups, YouTube, and Instagram. I really appreciate the sharing of projects, tips, and especially pictures. I’m a visual learner. Pictures are my favorite!

I’ve noticed everyone seems to be more than ready for Spring this year. So this weekend has brought out quilt pictures featuring March greens, Spring florals, and Easter decorations. They are all beautiful. Including the settings.

I’ve seen quilts set on huge dining tables overlooking lakes, draped over the railing of grand staircases, folded over the backs of elegant sofas in even more elegant living rooms. And even where you’d think to look for a quilt… in huge master suites. Casually tossed over the lounge chair of course.

When I share my pictures of quilting accomplishments I have to work hard to set it up just right so as not to show anything but the quilt. Because. . . I live in the real world. Well, MY real world.

My furniture isn’t new… and usually has a jacket or two tossed over the back. Nothing really matches. Dust lies around totally unafraid of me. Dust bunnies scurry across the floor is broad daylight without fear. I’m not complaining. I’m okay with it all.

What is considered perfect in this world is always changing. The minute you change that wall color it will no longer be in style, just sayin’. 

Oh, and repairs and design ideas at this house do NOT get done in a timely manner.

This ‘Blessed‘ wall hanging has been waiting well over a year to be hung by the dining table. But first the wall needs to be fixed and repainted. Three days ago I plunked it on the mantel and took the price tag off. PROGRESS!!!

WASD Blessed

AND… the patio door’s seal broke a couple months ago. Don’t be fooled, it’s not raining. That is condensation between the panes. ARGH!

WASD patio door broen seal

You see. . . perfection, as a goal, can never be completely achieved because everyone has a different definition or standard of what perfect is.

For me, as long as we have a roof over our heads and the health department hasn’t knocked on the door, I think we’re good.

See. . . I do have some standards. 
WASD I'm perfect

I’ll keep being me and YOU keep being you… 

Until next time… 







Winter. Olympics. Friends.

Winter, Olympics, and Friends have been a running theme in my life for the last week.

Winter. . . I’m sure, has stuck around because of that stinky groundhog that can’t seem to keep his nose out of the weather business. We were well on our way to Spring when…BAM…we looked out our window to see snow. For a whole week we had the white stuff in our yard. Okay, it’s pretty but way to cold.

I wouldn’t have minded so much if Spring hadn’t already started sticking its head out of the ground. However, I’m thankful for natures resilience.

Before — During — After


The Winter Olympics just ended with their closing ceremony. It couldn’t come soon enough for me.

However, Mr.P LOVES the Olympics. Doesn’t matter if it is the Summer or Winter version. He’s on it. And… becomes and instant expert on any sport. This year he schooled me constantly on Curling. To my dismay there was no hair involved. 

I have no idea how much he was saying was true. In fact I have no idea what he said because I wasn’t really listening. . . closely. But I do know we (USA) won the Gold. I know this because the. . . Uh, match? sets? periods? ends? (whatever) were shown every time the television was on.

2018 Gold Medal

Medals awarded to this household: 

Mr.P . . . won Gold in the  Remote Fast Forwarding through a DVR’d program event using finger dexterity. 

Ellen . . . won the Gold in the Hiding and Hibernation event thanks to a basement sewing studio and earbuds!

And in the Friendship news. . . yet another friend has moved away.

That makes three since the beginning of the year. I’m doing well at not taking it personally but starting to wonder if we should look at moving now too. (Peer pressure exists in all stages of life.) 

Anyway, had coffee this morning with a friend (I haven’t completely run out . . . yet.) and the first thing I asked her is if she had any plans of moving anytime soon.

She doesn’t.  …YAY!!!

Until next time. . . 


River Rafting Through the Week


River rafting can be fun, exciting, and just plain scary. A few years ago, okay, about a million years ago, we rafted the Deschutes River in Oregon. On a hot sunny day we climbed into rafts and paddled like crazy in the hopes of successfully making it down river (alive) to the dinner waiting.

Then it hit me. . . river rafting is much like life. We start at the top of the week ready for the tasks ahead. And then it happens. Rapids are around the corner, there are patches of calm water and coves to rest in until the water pulls you back out and down stream once again. Paddle. Paddle. Rest. Paddle. Rest.

This week my river held. . .  

Moments of Sadness — I waved good-bye to my sweet friend who moved. It was three days into mentally adjusting when another friend called. She and her husband are preparing to move back to Greece! ACK! I’m starting to fear answering the phone. 


Moments of Calm — Valentine’s Day arrived and left without fanfare. What a joy it is to not have to declare your undying love on this one day. Because you’ve already declared it by doing laundry, taking out garbage, making sure there is plenty of toilet paper, and not killing each other the other 364 days of the year. THAT is true love.

Moments of Concern — The weather-guesser-guy is throwing out the S word. We have early flowers blooming, daffodils showing color, and roses sprouting. A few days ago we even heard the sweet sound of lawn mowers. And NOW they threaten us with SNOW?!? If all goes well they will be wrong as usual. . . because tomorrow we are scheduled  to drive to the beach to meet family for the day. Oh dear. . .

Moments of Bliss — Today the sweetest Girl Scout ever, and her family, visited to deliver cookies. The rest of the family was notified and we had cookies and a mini-Christmas. Us old folks, our kids, our grands and our greats gathered around the kitchen table. Sharing. Laughing. Connecting. And this grandma loving every minute.

I did let my guard down forgetting a notorious family tradition. So when everyone was gone and all was quiet. I recharged my phone and found this. . . A grand and a great-grand had updated my screen saver. Giving me…

Moments of Heartwarming Love. . . 

A and K

Until next time. . . 


After 34 years of therapy…

Peanuts Lucy Dr. inMy therapist retired and is moving far, far away.  Well, a mere 357 miles away.

According to Google, it’s a short 6 hour drive if no one gets in my way, or I don’t have to stop for coffee or bathroom breaks, or to stretch a cramp out. This is a huge difference from the mile or two I usually drive to see her.


Chris and I became friends by accident. She was a church secretary while I was a church volunteer in the children’s department. One thing led to another and soon we were meeting on a regular basis.

That’s the beauty of friendship. . . it takes hold and develops while we’re not paying attention. Until it just is. Feeling like it has always been.

In the early years we met mornings before work. Sitting next to the metal walls, shivering, at McDonald’s. Skidding all the way there on ice because neither of us would think of missing our time together.

We’ve mostly met in evenings after work. . . because I’m NOT a morning person and Chris allows me that.  We’ve talked each other through several job changes and lay offs. Family problems, concerns and celebrations. Personal problems. The sorrow of deaths and the joys of marriages and grandchildren. Birthdays and holidays.

And now retirement. 

Together we have grown as mothers, grandmothers, and friends.

We often joke how much money our husbands have saved over the years because of our cheap dinner date therapy sessions.

Our last session was Thursday. After 3.5 hours I hugged Chris goodbye not knowing when I was going to see her again. It was hard. (My eyes still well up thinking about it.) I understand why she is moving. (Doesn’t mean I have to like it.) 

After 34 years of our eyeball to eyeball conversations I will have to get used to this life change. I will especially miss the hugs that came with the knowledge that there was a shoulder just down the street to lean on. That street got a whole lot longer today.

We have spent half our lives holding and encouraging each other through faith and prayer. That, my friend, won’t change.

I love and miss you already.

Until next time. . .


Mistaken Identity… Part 2

My sweet granddaughter Hannah(belle) is all grown with a family of her own. She has moved to a different state and although she isn’t that far away, traffic can make the trip to visit extra long and frustrating. That’s where texting (and Instagram) come in.

We stay in contact often through technology… which is good! WASD Amelie GS banner

I received this sweet picture with the message that our Great-Grand Amelie was now a Girl Scout and selling cookies. Of course we sent back the message we wanted to order. I put the check in the mail and sent a picture of the envelope with a note to be on the lookout for the hot pink envelope.

Then I noticed I had spelled their street name wrong… ARGH! 

That prompted me to send another message that if it didn’t make it by Wednesday I would resend the check.

We had a plan and all was good.

Wednesday arrived along with a text from Hannahbelle. The envelope, wrong address and all made it to their house. I praised the mailman… or am I supposed to say mail-delivery-person (?). And on I went about how being politically correct can make communicating very wordy and yada, yada, yada. . .

That’s when the conversation turned a little puzzling.

WASD Amelie text brother

I couldn’t figure out why Hannah would be telling me about her brother texting in the middle of our conversation. Hmmm. . .

WASD Amelie text good bye

Okay… Hannah has never sent me a line of animal pics before. And for sure she wasn’t getting ready for bed at 7 pm. Something was a little off here. That’s when I scrolled back and found . . .

WASD Amelie text brother pic

Oh yeah, there he was. . .  Amelie had sent a picture of her 13 month old, eloquent texting brother. That’s when it all settled in on me. I had been talking to Amelie the whole time. 

Oh dear. . .  I hope I didn’t say anything inappropriate. 

I held my breath as I checked back through. And that is when I read the very first message under the Hannahbelle label. 

WASD Amelie text

There it was in the very first text.

Amelie had introduced herself along with sending a selfie of that sweet face.

So then. . . All is well. I said nothing inappropriate and my cookies have been ordered.

Now I just have to wait for those yummy cookies while paying better attention.

Until Next Time. . .


Mistaken Identity

Twice lately I’ve made —assumption mistakes. Both times they involved my grand-kids. (Assumption #2 coming next time we meet.) I’m still trying to come up with a reasonable excuse.

The first happened just before Christmas when an Amazon package arrived. We hadn’t ordered anything but a quick read of the label told us it had come for our grandson. (He has ordered before using our address.) I shot off a text telling him his package was here only to get the answer… “I didn’t order anything.”


Okay then… time to do a little Colombo detective work… I found out Amazon has no process for returning a package not ordered by you and there are NO phone numbers to call. I shot off an email to the sending company with no response. I had done all I could think of to get this package to the right person. That’s when I took a closer look.

I noticed it was mailed to a Brandy not our Brady. And the last name was Richardson not Peterson. But, there it was in black and white, our address. Oh dear… Amazon had really goofed on this one.

After two weeks of getting no where I decided to open the package. (It held pre-wound sewing bobbins.) After a few more days I decided to cut up the label, recycle the packaging and donate the bobbins. And THAT is when I noticed the address was not ours but for Brandy who lives directly one street over from us. (Where Edith the Squirrel Feeder used to live.) 


So basically the mailman delivered it to the wrong address… there’s my excuse!!!

But that didn’t get me off the hook.

I taped the package back together and on New Years Day, Mr.P waited in the getaway car while I ran to the door to make my apologies. However, no one answered so I stealthily placed the package behind the screen door and fled.

I assume the whole thing was caught on security camera.

Hope I remembered to smile!

Until next time…