Day 151 of 365

It would seem a bit hypocritical for me to say this, but people put too much information out there on the internet.

Here's the issue I'm seeing. I'm part of a quilting website. I visit that website every day. I get to see quilts others have made, learn about different quilting techniques, and find out how others organize things. That's where I learned how to wrap my fabric on the comic book boards. I learned what a crumb quilt was, and there is where I learned about the Quilts for Kids Organization, the pillowcase/presentation cases for Quilts of Valor, and the Turtle Pillow project for the Hole in the Wall Camp. I've received free fabric from people giving things away, and I myself have sent some free fabric to others.

But there are a couple sections on that website where folks post pictures of their kids/grand kids. Most recently, a gal posted a picture of her grand kids (all under age) with their first names, their ages, and the town they live in. The gal who posted these pictures uses her real name, so it wouldn't take much for someone to track the kids down.

Another one bugging me happened last month. A very proud mom was showing off her elementary age student's picture from (I think) Kindergarten graduation. The picture was of the child and the principal, and then one with the child and teacher. The parent gave us her child's name, the principal's name, and the teacher's name. And the name of the school.

Here's the thing - if you're an adult and you're stupid enough to put your picture and enough information out there to get traced back to you, it's your own problem. But putting kids' info out there? And what about unsuspecting adults (like the principal and teacher) who have no idea they're being photographed and identified for posting on the internet?

Which is why you'll never find me putting pictures of people I know on my blog. I work hard at not identifying people by name (a couple times I slipped up). I won't identify where I work, what my job title is, or my full name. While I'm putting my life out there for all to read, I'm doing it as anonymously as I can. When I first started this blog, I didn't really expect anyone else to read it. Was I ever wrong. Getting close to 5,000 people so far. It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I don't trust those I don't know.

And it worries me that others aren't taking the same approach. I have plans to go to a quilting retreat (of folks from the quilting board) but am reconsidering it as I frequently see photos posted on the website of retreat attendees, identified by name. Not sure I wanna go there.

But I'm not going to worry about it now. It's time to enjoy a peaceful Sunday. And a peaceful orange sky.

Day 150 of 365

You'd think as much as I hate lizards (I wrote a bit about those on Day 101) I'd hate frogs, too.

For some reason they're not the same.

I think it's because of the bad experiences I had with lizards when I was a kid. In contrast, the experiences with frogs weren't so bad.

When I was growing up, we lived next door to my grandparents. At our house and my grandparents' house, there were frogs that hung around the faucets out front. Baby frogs and grown up frogs. I used to pick them up and play with them. (The baby ones were especially cute.) When we went camping, we used to swim in ponds and lakes and catch tadpoles. I remember at least once bringing some tadpoles home, hoping they'd turn into frogs. They sprouted little legs, but never made it to the frog stage.

When our daughter was little and we went to an aunt's cabin, she caught frogs. We have a picture of her, probably no older than four or five, with a plastic cup full of frogs, just as proud as she could be.

She was pretty excited when we moved into this house and found out there were frogs around here. In the basement window wells, in the rose garden, hopping along the paths.

The frogs are long gone now, though. We've taken out some plantings they liked to live around and our gardens aren't as damp as they once were. My daughter turned to playing with worms. Even as a teenager working in the garden, she would get excited if she ran across a worm. And boy, do we have some big worms!

No frogs, no worms, and certainly no lizards around here right this second.

But turtles? Yep.

Day 149 of 365

I don't remember growing up around gardening in California. I remember my great grandparents having a big garden out back, but I only remember corn. Actually, I don't remember vegetables playing a part in my childhood at all.

On the other hand, my husband grew up gardening here in Idaho. Even now his dad still maintains their garden.

When we lived in the university apartments when we were first married, they offered small garden plots for rent on the property. We could see the vegetable gardens from our 3rd story window, and I always wondered why anyone would take the time and money to do a garden.

But after we moved out and got a place in the country, we started gardening. My husband knew all about it. I knew nothing. Nothing about planting, watering, making rows. I didn't even know how some things grew. In the ground? On a bush? Not a clue.

Over the years, I've gotten the hang of it. I'm the one mapping out the garden plot. I know radishes and peas come out first, spinach and arugula get multiple plantings, and it's okay to start digging potatoes when the blooms have died off.

Just when I think I know it all, I learn something new. I knew tomato plants need cages, but...if you plant beefsteak tomatoes (which most of ours are) and water, fertilize, and weed properly (which most years we get a bit lazy with), the metal cages you buy at the store won't work. Because each one of those beefsteak tomato plants, when tended to properly (like this year) will produce dozens of huge tomatoes. Too many for the metal cages to hold them and the cages will wind up flat on the ground from the weight. Although they are just as tasty, just as bright, and go great in fresh salsa.

From the garden today came a jalapeno pepper, a serrano chili pepper, and some beefsteaks. Chopped an onion, threw in a bit of chili powder and garlic, and added a bit of fresh squeezed lime juice and salt.

Yum! After giving it a taste, next time I'll go with one chili pepper instead of two. It was mighty hot.

Exercise update: 103 consecutive days. I stopped tracking my mileage, though.

Day 148 of 365

In 1984:

• Ronald Reagan was president.
• The Space Shuttle Discovery had its maiden voyage.
• A gallon of gas was $1.21.
• The movies Terminator and Sixteen Candles came out.
• The PG-13 rating was introduced.
• The Cosby Show started.

On this day in 1984 I was just barely 19 years old. Both of us were in college but working during the summer. I had long fingernails and he had a curly perm. I had an ugly lime green 1970 Ford Maverick with four brand new tires. We had not much else.

No credit cards, no microwave, hardly any furniture, a small black and white TV, and only one telephone.

But we had a wedding on this day. A dress, a rented white tux, and a church. Flowers from my in-laws garden. And a potluck at their house for our reception.

27 years ago today, I married the man I met in the Boise State University Library during finals week. The man who kept coughing as I was studying for my first semester of college finals. The man who, every few minutes, had some "jock" coming over to talk to him. The man who was distracting me from my studies for what seemed like forever, yet came over before he left and said to a then 17 year old girl (me), "Excuse me miss, sorry for coughing."

Every year on our anniversary we do something special. A vacation somewhere, dinner out, gifts, or special dinner in.

But not today. My husband is at his latest conference this week and won't be home. He called me on his lunch break, but the celebration will wait. After 27 years, celebrations for anniversaries aren't what they used to be anyway.

How did I spend my day? In the sewing room and in the gardens, of course. (As if I haven't mentioned it enough lately, I'm getting tired of putting up with my back. I still - even after all I've done - can't work but a few minutes before it gives out. Grrr!)

On a more pleasant note, I did manage to capture a picture of the rose named Evelyn.

Day 147 of 365

I possess a multi-generational button collection.

I didn't start collecting buttons on purpose. I got some of my grandmother's buttons after she passed away, some of my mom's when she got rid of all her sewing and craft things, and I had some of my own.

When my daughter was little I used to make many of her clothes. Wild looking outfits with matching tops and bottoms. Stars, stripes, polka dots, all in bright colors. I purchased many a button thinking I'd use it for an outfit. But as I quickly learned, elastic in pants for a three year old was a better alternative.

I also have other buttons I've saved. When we buy an article of clothing and an extra button comes with it, I add it to my collection. (I even save the tiny bag the button comes in.) Old, ratty shirts that can no longer be used? I cut the buttons off and keep them. Pajamas that have seen better days? Keep those buttons.

I've used up some of the buttons I had purchased. I made my daughter a sweatshirt covered in a few dozen big, bright, bold buttons. I've even made a little wall quilt called, "Button, Button" that is covered in...buttons.

All those extra buttons have come in extremely handy. More than a few times we've lost buttons off of clothing and I just so happen to have one close enough to pass for the original. And those buttons have come in extremely, extremely, handy for the Turtle Pillows. 46 buttons are needed, in matching pairs. For each pillow, I'm trying to find just the right color button. For the most part I've been using black, but am starting to branch out into different colors.

Except all those buttons - Grandma's, Mom's, my purchased ones, and my don't throw it away, let's keep it ones are all mixed together in a big container. Which makes it hard to find a matching pair. For years every time I've needed a button, I dig through the box. Again, and again, and again, until I find a matching set.

It wastes a lot of time. And with school looming on the horizon my time is becoming sacred. To hasten the turtle production, I finally took the time out to organize the buttons. Now I can find the colors I want without pouring through thousands of buttons. And I've even matched up quite a few. I knew those little button bags would come in handy some day!

Anyone need white buttons? I think I have more than enough for a lifetime.