


As many of you know, my fabric line, Small Wonders, launched in October. Small Wonders focuses on small-scale prints, which every quilter needs in her stash for a number of reasons. You can see the story on Small Wonders in this pretty video.
On this inaugural Small Wonders Wednesday (this will be a “thing” for the next seven weeks), I present to you the first of many giveaways! But I’m not giving away Small Wonders fabric. What?!
I have twelve (12) bundles of fabric like the ones above and one (1) kit from my days as a magazine editor. I got free stuff from time to time; not for the show itself, but goodies for various promotional reasons, plus freebies I picked up at Quilt Market, too. Very cool, but I’m out of room now that I have so much of my own line.
So:
For the first thirteen (13) people who contact me with a scan, phone picture, or attachment of a receipt showing they spent at least $20.00 on Small Wonders fabric get one of these fat bundles of fabric! It’s all brand new, it’s all complete, and these babies are from the fabric companies you know and love. Basically, you’re getting more than double your money for Small Wonders plus the free fabric, all of which you will adore. You can scan a receipt from your local quilt shop (!!) or show something from an online shop like Missouri Star or Fabric.com.
Send your name and receipt to SmallWondersWednesday@gmail.com as quick like a bunny and you’ll get one of the prizes! This giveaway will last for 24 hours, so you’ve got till 3pm CST to go shopping.
I’ll snap a screenshot of the email box so I have proof of the winners. I play no favorites. Good luck, friends!

It’s important to begin this morning that if you ever have dinner (or breakfast or lunch) at my house, you will get the freshest, most delicious ingredients in the dishes I lovingly prepare. And you should have a meal at my house because I’m a fine cook, if I can do a little horn toot.
That said, I would like to say without shame that I leave food out. Within reason. Eggs, milk, chicken, and anything containing these ingredients and a few others must be tossed if they are left out of the fridge for more than an hour or so. But cheese? The kind of potato salad that doesn’t have dairy in it but just vinegar and herbs and olive oil? Half a filet mignon in a restaurant doggie bag? Eh, whatever. If perfectly good food sat out overnight because sleep was more important than KP duty, I don’t feel too good about tossing it out the next morning.
Of course, I always give it a sniff. It’s amazing to me how the nose can instantly tell if a food is off. Our tiny olfactory senses and/or our tastebuds say, “Stop. No. Don’t. Do not. That is not okay for you/us.” If warning bells don’t ring, I shrug and put it in the fridge if it’s leftovers or cheddar cheese. Half-cut apples, onions, peppers? I leave them out as soon as I cut them! They’re all in a bowl on my counter. I do not want my fridge to smell like onions. When I need the onion again, I just cut off the wizened part and go about my dicing. I always use them within a day or so. Same with apples. Dried apples are sold for four bucks a bag at Whole Foods. They are free at my house if you want some.
Mold is not okay. Sprouting things are not okay. And again, if the food object doesn’t pass the sniff test, into the garbage with it. But in this deodorized, hand-sanitized world — while there are starving children in the city of Chicago — throwing good food out is an ethical issue. We’re lucky enough to have it. We’re lucky enough to share it. Though it’s true, “we’re lucky enough to be able to throw it away” sounds lame to me.
NOTICE FOR QUILTERS! Tomorrow begins a giveaway for Small Wonders fabric! Make sure to check PaperGirl for your chance to win! Thirteen zippy quilters will get a (great) prize. 🙂

New Year’s Day morning, while I had my tea, I spent time feeling guilty about neglecting PaperGirl over the holidays and some time recovering from a mild headache.
But I didn’t spend much time on either of those things because Claus suggested we go to a museum. Capital idea, old chap. We looked online and found many museums are closed exactly two days a year: Christmas and New Year’s Day: The Art Institute, the Field, etc., etc. But we persevered and discovered that the Adler Planetarium was open for about four more hours. If we shook legs, we could make it with plenty of time to enjoy our afternoon there.
When we arrived, we found that the big exhibit in place was one on the moon landing! Way cool. They had the original spacesuits, the thingy the astronauts rode back home that splashed into Cape Canaveral, pictures of the astronauts’ families as they watched the landing on television (those were particularly incredible), a moon rock, Jim Lovell’s rejection letter from NASA in ’69 telling him he wasn’t picked for the Apollo 11 mission. (Lovell went on a bunch of other missions after that, though, reminding us all to never, ever give up…trying to be an astronaut.)
About three-quarters through the exhibit, Claus reminded me that there is a huge conspiracy theory claiming the moon landing was fake, an elaborate hoax orchestrated by the U.S. government out of fear of falling further behind the Russians in the space race. I had heard of this theory but hadn’t looked into it; conspiracy theories make me uncomfortable and not because they force me to question my beliefs, but because the greasy hair of the conspiracy theorists makes me feel like I need to take a bath.
This afternoon, we watched a documentary on the moon landing conspiracy theory. There are theories about doctored pictures, the way the flag appears to be waving (this would be impossible, as there is no atmosphere on the moon), discrepancies in audio/video records, and on and on. Claus and I, though we are not scientists, picked apart every claim and argument presented. It’s a pretty weak case, but there was one thing that troubled us. Did you know that after the briefing right after the landing, Neil Armstrong never gave one interview? Zero. And when you look at all the footage of him and the other guys during the briefing, he looks like a man going to the guillotine. He looks like a guy who’s been indicted: grave, depressed, hunted. That doesn’t mean the moon landing was a hoax. But Neil Armstrong clearly knows something not many people know — the proof is on his face. The exhibit was way better than the documentary, but of course these two things have different objectives and my objective is to gape at human ingenuity.
On that note, I forgot to link back to the New Year’s post from last year, where we can all reflect on my Gramma’s tips for New Year’s Day, which is over! Whoops!

We have the Babylonians to thank for many things. They’re the ones who put 60 seconds in the minute and 60 minutes in an hour, a system called “sexagesimal” which is a word I think we can all agree is best left out of our vocabularies. We can thank the Babylonians (5500 to 3500 B.C.) for page numbers in a book. Very helpful, guys. Thank you.
And we can thank them for New Year’s resolutions. At the turn of the new year, the Babs had an eleven-day festival to celebrate the occasion, during which they made promises to the gods so the gods would show them favor. (Now that’s what I call accountability.) According to sources that I’m too lazy to cite, most Babylonians pledged to get out of debt.
I gave up resolutions years ago, mostly because I hate going with the flow. There’s one I flirt with each year, but as I know I cannot achieve it, I quit while I’m ahead. I resolve not to try and fix what I need to change. Want to know what I want to change?
I want to answer the phone every time I can see/hear it ring. I have a terrible phobia of talking on the phone, even to people I love. And I loathe voicemail. A week can go by before I finally enter the numbers to access my voicemail and when I do, my fingers feel like they have those little finger weights on them. “You seriously have to listen to voicemail,” I’ll say to myself, and it feels the same as when I say, “You seriously have to make a dentist appointment.” If I discover I only have three messages, I feel like I found twenty bucks on the sidewalk.
What is the root of this crippling phobia? Is it a control issue? Why am I this way? I just can’t do it. I can’t answer the phone. Text messages are the greatest invention since the telephone.
I cannot resolve to get better at this unless someone unlocks the problem. If you can do that, I’ll help you in your resolve to eat Marshmallow Fluff straight from the jar. I’ve got that down.