Not Every Kiss Begins With Kay...

You'd think that after my February fiasco dork moment yesterday, I would have been hyper vigilant about having everything in order, organized, and keeping my nose to the grindstone today. It started out that way. I woke up an hour early. Gulped my morning coffee. Skimmed through my emails. Took care of a few work things. Made sure the kids were covered up with their favorite blankets. Vacuumed. Washed dishes. I was seconds away from prepping the kid's crock pot meal and the crock pot dinner I was making for Lisa and I. But, wait. What was wrong with this picture?

I only have 1 crock pot. Another. Dork. Moment. 

Not a problem. Easy fix. I simmered the kid's dinner on the stove. Low heat. Almost the same end result. The kids love it just the same.

An hour later, I was ready to dive into some fabric and design the first quilt of the week. I headed into the biscuit room and examined the shelves of fabric. Between what has been donated and what we've purchased, there's a fairly decent selection of prints.

The struggles started surfacing when I noticed I had a scant selection of solid fabric. Most of the design ideas that were floating around in my head were falling into the Nope-Not-Happening-Today Bucket. I didn't have the solid colors to make it happen.

After what seemed like eternity, I grabbed a few bundles of fabric and made my way back to the kitchen table to trace and cut.

Within a minute or two, it was evident I desperately needed an iron. Tracing templates and cutting isn't an issue with a few wrinkles. However, the fabric was wrinkled to the point of warping just about everything I needed to trace and cut. An iron would solve that problem.

I knew I needed an iron. It was on my short must-have list. 

I can't even remember the last time I owned an iron. I hate ironing with every ounce of my being. When I was growing up, there was no "wrinkle free" clothing. I spent hours at the ironing board. I hated it then. I hate it now.

To this day, I avoid purchasing clothing that requires ironing. If by some chance an article of clothing inches its way through the cracks and needs ironing, I put it in the dryer with a damp cloth. Problem solved.

The fabric was wrinkled. Very. Very. Wrinkled. Tossing the fabric in the dryer wasn't going to smooth out the embedded wrinkles.

By noon, I was frustrated. 

Lisa called during her lunch break. She asked how my day was going. I masked my frustrations, but she saw through the entire smoke and mirrors charade.

"Okay. You're stressed. What's going on?" 

Exhale.

"I planned 2 crock pot meals today. One for the kids. One for us. But, we only have 1 crock pot. Then, as I was designing and picking out fabric for the Bodacious Patchwork Doggy Quilts this week, I realized I didn't have the solid fabrics to pull the designs together. I can make it work this week, but I need to shop for solids soon. And, the fabric I do have is so wrinkled that it's warping my squares. I'd ask Char or Kim if I could borrow their iron, but I don't have an ironing board. I can't iron on the counters or table because the heat warps the surface. March 1st is the day after tomorrow and I'm pissed because February only has 28 days. instead of 30 or 31. That's so stupid. I really needed those extra few days."

Silence. A muted laugh.

"Send me a list of solid fabric colors you need. I'll go from there."

"But..."

"No buts. Just do it."

Lisa is one of the most laid back people I know. However, when she puts her foot down, I know she's adamant. There's a reason. I comply out of respect and love.

Five minutes after our conversation ended, I sent her a list of solid colors.

I was in our home office when she arrived home from work. I was in the middle of replying to an email. I heard a lot of commotion from the kitchen. Boxes opening. The kids barking. Lisa scurrying around.

Ten minutes later, she peeked in.

"You got a minute?"

I made my way to the kitchen.

Lisa had taken everything out of the boxes and bags and had everything neatly displayed on the counter.

A stack of solid fabric. A crock pot. An iron. An ironing board.

And, an iced latte.

Her face was glowing with pride.

I had to fight back tears.

Sure, there's nothing romantic about fabric, an iron and ironing board, and a crock pot, but I'll take this over a dozen roses any day.

She gets me.

My life just got a little bit easier.

I'm a lucky girl.