One is the number of hours I was able to quilt this weekend because...
Two o'clock is the hour our new puppy Casey is waking up in the morning (if you can call 2:00 am morning); and
Three is the number of away hockey games we had this weekend (by the way, we also had two home games); and
Four hundred is the number of miles we put on our cars Saturday and Sunday (thank God we traded our huge, gas-guzzling truck for a Honda Fit); but
Five... five is the number of quilt shops and/or fabric stores I discovered while driving my son all over the state of New Hampshire.
Signs reading "Fabric" and "Quilts," and a tantalizing log cabin quilt draped outside the front door of one, seemed to call out to me as I passed the stores. I slowed the car as I drove past each, gazing longingly, visions of fat quarters and jelly rolls dancing in my head. And the inner debate began. Could I spare a minute to pop in?? After all, I've never been to this store before and in my experience (which admittedly is vast) a new quilt shop is like a present waiting to be unwrapped. I haven't bought fabric since November (Christmas gifts don't count!). And I doubt my son, contentedly playing with his iPod Touch, would even notice if I stopped the car. I waiver for a moment, thinking I might be able to get away with 5 minutes or maybe 10 if I tied my son's skates really fast. But alas, I don't quite trust my 6 year old GPS to actually get me to the rink on time. And sadly, it's hockey, not a quilt shop hop. So I drive on. This time hockey wins.
But don't worry. I'll be back.
