Six inches of snow fell late Sunday evening, and it has since turned to ice.  Our boys have been out of school all week, and won’t go back until Tuesday due to MLK Jr. holiday.

It was fun the first day, sledding, throwing snowballs, and hiking mountain trails in the snow.

The second day it was still fun, but the ground was icier:  better for sledding but more difficult to get around.

The third day the ground was covered in ice.  It was my son’s birthday, and he was stuck at a friend’s house after spending the night.  He couldn’t walk home because it was too icy (the snow was powdery enough to walk to his buddy’s house the day before).  He waited until the sun came out and tried walking home.  He fell a couple of times, but was slowly making progress when some friends picked him up in their 4WD Jeep and gave him a ride home.

I’m now officially over it.  I ran out of Coke Zero yesterday (a true emergency), but we still have milk, eggs, bread, and other staples.  Cabin fever has set in, and the kids are grumpy.  I got out all kinds of art supplies, science project books, and anything else I could think of to keep them busy.  They’re tired of sledding (as am I), and my husband can’t convince any of us that this is fun anymore.

Sounds like a great day to quilt, doesn’t it?  How has the snow affected you and how have you coped?  I’d love to know!

We”re doing a virtual studio tour over at the Color-of-the-Month forum, sharing photos of our creative quilting studios, and I thought I would share mine with you.  My own studio is the bonus room over my garage, and I share it with my husband, who has his office here too.  He often jokes that I take up 3/4 of the space in the room, which is about right.

This is my main sewing and writing nook, where I have my Bernina Artista 170 (which is about 10 years old) and my writing desk to the left.  My computer is normally on the table, but this particular day it was busy elsewhere.  My favorite part of this alcove is my husband made both my writing desk and my sewing table, which folds up into a sideboard when you’re not using.  But when am I not using it?  He built this for me when our children were infants and toddlers, and I was without a sewing space of my own.  I sewed in the den, after the kids were asleep at night, and I could open up this cabinet, sew to my heart’s content, and close it up with no pins, thread, or other items that might end up in a child’s mouth.

This is my second machine, the Bernina Activa, which I use for teaching, taking to workshops, and sewing campers during the summer months.  When the machine isn’t being used, this table is the Willow Ridge Press shipping area.  Multi-tasking anyone?

My armoire, with my sons’ drawings on the doors.  Open those doors and voila . . . .

all kinds of storage inside.  This was a prefab, unfinished armoire, and my oh-so-handy husband stained it and added the rods and hooks inside.  This was in the den along with my sewing sideboard before I had a studio.

My cutting table, assembled from DIY kitchen cabinet units from Home Depot.  My husband offered to build me a custom cutting table, but he’s a builder, and I knew my project would be put behind everyone else’s paying projects (as it should be), so I suggested we just pick some ready-to-assemble units and make our own from those.  I think he was secretly relieved.  It has three deep drawers on the end, great for craft supplies.

My design wall, but I can show you only half of it.  Other projects are in the works and they aren’t ready for their debut yet!

My thread racks and color collages, which I have all over my studio.  I used to post my collages in my bedroom closet when I didn’t have a studio, and every morning when I got dressed, they would greet me.  I loved it!  I also stored my fabric in wire shelving units in my closet.  Don’t let lack of space inhibit your creativity!

I spent the last two months getting ready for being a vendor at Paducah.  I’d heard wonderful things about the town and its residents from other quilting vendors, so I was excited to learn I’d gotten a premium booth with Susan Edwards at Wildhair Studios, just one block from the National Quilt Museum.

Richard, a friend and fellow quilter and watercolor artist, spent days cutting and assembling jelly rolls, charm packs, and fat quarter bundles for me.  I was furiously printing patterns from my Color-of-the-Month series, making hotel accommodations, and packing my van.  I was ready.

I arrived on Friday, set up on Saturday, with much help from Diane and Lowell Cook of Details by Diane.  They were generous with their time and would later become so important to me.  Susan set up her t-shirt booth in the back of her store, and Betty of Village Mercantile set up a mini-quilt shop in her booth.

Traffic was slow before the show, and while it increased through the week, estimates from other, more experienced vendors than I were that attendance was down by 1/3.  The AQS show was uncrowded, restaurants had empty tables, and the streets of Paducah looked like tumbleweeds should be blowing through.

Then on Tuesday morning my husband woke me up with a 6:30a.m. phone call, starting with the words, “I’ve got some bad news.”  It was too early for me to recognize how grave he was, but he continued to tell me one of my best friends, Virginia, had passed away unexpectedly.  Virginia was 41 years old, was a nurse who worked in a hospital everyday, and was diligent about her healthcare.  She was afraid of dying young, because both of her parents had passed away at a young age.   We met in childbirth class when we were both pregnant with our first child:  we both had sons, who were best friends.

Virginia was a devoted friend to me at the awkward times in life when most people don’t know what to say, so they say nothing, something entirely wrong, or they just avoid you altogether.  When I had my first miscarriage, Virginia took care of me and comforted me.  When my mother passed away, Virginia flew out from Colorado with her kids and visited me, again comforting me.  When I was told I had to have surgery, and she was too many states away to visit, she sent me a care package.  I sent my son on his first solo airplane flight to visit Virginia and her family.

I couldn’t believe what David was telling me.  How could it have happened?  I got a speeding ticket driving to the store that morning.   I couldn’t focus on anything the rest of the week.  I broke down into tears after a customer said “life is too short for me to complain about my wife buying fabric.”  Poor man, he was just making conversation and this crazy woman from Georgia starts sobbing.  Susan’s husband Robert hugged me, and Diane and Lowell were wonderful with their Christian love and support.

On the last day of vending, Saturday, I felt like things were getting back to normal for me.  I talked with Virginia’s ex-husband and her memorial service wouldn’t be until next week, so I still had time to attend.  I talked with my kids and husband:  my older son was barely awake after an all-night lock-in with his youth group.  Life was normal – good, uneventful, normal.

Then my husband called me 30 minutes later to tell me my older son was being rushed to the hospital.  I asked him repeatedly to explain, because I couldn’t register what was happening.  He was frantic and couldn’t really tell me much.  All I knew was that my son was ill, being transported by ambulance to a hospital, and I wasn’t there.  I couldn’t hold his hand, tell him he would be okay.  I wasn’t there.

Again, Diane, Lowell, and Robert came to my rescue.  And my friend Pat, who drove from Georgia to stay with me and help me in my booth.  Again I was crying in Paducah, and again they comforted with hugs, words, and actions.  They packed my booth and my car in 10 minutes.  I drove through severe thunderstorms, tornadoes, and hail to get to my son.

He was fine, but shaken.  His younger brother hugged him a bit tighter, as did we all.

So, Paducah next year?  I can’t even think about it.  All I know right now is I will never again talk to Virginia, and I can’t make sense of that.  I miss her, and I ache for her son and daughter, 14 and 12.  Life will never be the same for them, or for me either.

Sweet and pure elation over catching this rainbow trout on Saturday.  We ventured out on the first warm and sun-filled day and spent the afternoon on the boat.  It was true bliss:  sun warming our faces after weeks of snow and clouds, his catching not one, but two rainbow trout and pleading with his dad to cook them for dinner, even though David doesn’t eat fish.

Our dog Ranger joined us for the lake cruise, and he was happy just to get out of the house, after pleading with us with his big brown eyes, “somebody take me outside!!  Dogs get cabin fever too!”

As grateful as I was for two sunny days in a row, and on a weekend, no less, I was still a bit chilly, covering up with David’s flannel shirt and the lime green knitted chenille scarf made for me by my friend Pat.

We enjoyed the trout for dinner, making Trout Meuniere, Julia Child-style, baking the whole fish and removing the entire backbone and rib cage in one swift movement.  If you saw the movie Julie & Julia, you’ll know what I’m talking about:  it’s the dish she’s in heaven over when she and her husband Paul arrive in France.  The best part?  David cooked it.  What a lucky girl I am.

Haven’t we been here before?  Twice in one winter is almost unheard of in this part of the country, even if we are in the mountains.  We just don’t see that much snow, not that anyone around here is complaining.  More opportunities for snowball fights, sledding, building snow men, and making a fort in the den, which happens to be the perfect place to snuggle with the family dog and watch the Winter Olympics.

We’re Olympic junkies here, watching every minute of coverage until we’re bleary-eyed and falling into bed.  Snow, olympics, and school break.  What could be better?