Dr. Who and the Tardis Quilt

Dr. Who collectables scatter my godson's bedroom and Tardis comments pepper his conversation on a regular basis.  I've never seen an entire episode (Shh, don't tell!) but-- I can assure you, Godson has seen them ALL and he and his friends LOVE the show.

Over the years I've searched far and wide for Dr. Who collectibles and treats, picking them up in my travels and hoping it's something he doesn't already have.

This year, I'm pretty sure his upcoming birthday will make me a bit of a hero, if I do say so myself.

This is what I made for him...

(It took a while to put together using the Relatively Dimensional quilt pattern by Hunter's Design Studio.  I made the border slightly larger using Quilter's Linen Metallic-- the solids are Kona Cotton. All are from my favorite fabric store-- Sew Modern in Los Angeles.)

While working on the quilt, I tried to subtly drill Godson about specifics on the Tardis so I could quilt it as "real" as possible.  That process was a bit like pulling teeth but in the end, I figured out enough to give it a go...

Late in the game I learned there is some sort of round seal so I winged it to give the very basic "idea" of where it belongs.

Spoonflower was my source for the printed panels.  Info for that was included in the pattern.

I'll give the quilt wrapped with popcorn and all the goodies to go with an evening of Dr. Who binge watching with his friends.

The quilt has been washed so it's super soft and crinkly, which I love.  And it'll get even better with each washing.

Happy Birthday to my favorite Dr. Who fan!

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins

Scream and Shout!

 Call it an "In Case of Emergency" photo...

This picture was taken yesterday at the Ringling Bros. Circus with my godson.  It was a total blast! 

I'm saving it for a day when I really need to let loose and have a good rant-- like today when my contractor waterproofed and sealed my patio in the wrong color.

Yep, I'm going to need to scream!

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins

Timing Is Everything

Every since I took this picture last weekend, I've been thinking about timing and the impact the phrase "in the right place at the right time" has had on so many of the paths-- large and small, my life has taken. I realize this isn't a fabulous photograph-- the butterfly is a little blurry and it's not framed all that great, but it's the fact that I've never seen a blue butterfly before and that I just happened to be in that exact spot at that exact time to snap the photo with the wings showing my favorite color blue that's made me so happy.

When I checked my camera to see if I'd captured the butterfly before it flew away I was excited as a school girl which is an oddly unusual thing for me to do. It's been many decades since I was even remotely considered "a girl" and the excitement it generated was pretty out of proportion for me. Nevertheless, I started thinking about the times in my life I've "been in the right place...."

The top of my list would have to be the airport in Milan, Italy where I met my husband thanks to a very delayed flight back to Los Angeles. The odds of us both being in the same place at the same time with a third person who could introduce us is so out of the norm that I hesitate to think what would have happened had I slept in that morning 22 years ago and taken a later flight.

There was another time everything worked perfectly in my favor and I was directly outside the hospital delivery room at the precise moment my oldest niece was born....Which actually meant that several other people were NOT in the right place at the right time *ahem*security*cough* so I could sneak into that area of the hospital. I was even more lucky that the head nurse took pity on me and actually brought my niece out for me to hold when she was just minutes old. I get a lump in my throat just thinking about how beautiful and tiny she was in my arms.

And then there was the time I was in the doorway of Godson's kindergarten at the end of the day to hear another child ask him who the lady was picking him up. His deadpan response was "she's my wife". Being in the right place at the right time gave me one of my fondest memories of carpooling him after school.

It's the little things-- and big things-- that make me appreciate "perfect timing". Why the blue butterfly has me taking a trip down memory lane remembering these things is a mystery but I'm enjoy the mental tour of the finer times of my life.

Have you been in the right place at the right time?

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

There's One In Every Crowd

It's graduation season again, have you had the pleasure of attending one? I have-- Actually I should say, one down, two to go.

The first had my beautiful brainiac niece all decked out in her blue and gold robe with ropes and tassels and metals and sashes galore for high school graduation. She rocked it and sat proudly in the very front row in the "Top 12" section of the class. She's a valedictorian (yes, I'm bragging) but it didn't go to her head one bit-- Her three other smart sisters saw to that.

This was the first graduation I'd ever been to where not only the school's Principal but also the Superintendent of the district lectured the audience of about a thousand people on "proper graduation etiquette". They made it crystal clear that the ceremony would stop dead in its tracks if there was any hooting, hollering, cheering, whistling or clapping at the announcement of a student's name-- "Not one peep" were the exact words the Principal bellowed into the microphone.

I immediately reverted to my teenage years and felt scolded. I sheepishly sat straight up in my chair so as not to look like the kind of person who would "irreparably damage the solemnness of the occasion". Gawd forbid.

As I started biting my nails, something I had not done since I was 12 years old, I wondered in my very quiet mind, afraid to move a muscle for fear of making noise and being called out-- sure an intense spotlight would shine brightly in my deer in the headlights eyes, but soon felt a bit peeved for being talked down to.

I assumed the audience, full of proud loved ones of soon to be high school graduates, wouldn't in any way try to disrupt the ceremony. This was a big deal! And of course we'd all act like respectable adults. Right?

Apparently not so much because as they saying goes-- "There's one in very crowd." only in this case there were about 14.

In fairness, it takes a long time for 357 names to be announced, diplomas handed out, and the obligatory posed photo shaking hands with the Principal, so folks got a little restless. But about half way through, the rowdiness started.

First it was the single, very loud, hand clapping after a student's name. The poor kid stopped frozen as if his idiot parent would get him bounced into detention one last time. It caused the ceremony to stop for a full 15 seconds before the diploma was handed over. The announcer calling names over the loud speaker let us know he meant business.

Then a dad, after his beautiful blond baby girl's name was announced, stood in the center of the auditorium and did a wild silent dance that closely resembled the funky chicken. The audience roared, the blond was visibly not happy, and the announcer deadpanned "Was that really necessary?"

Three more students in a row received standing ovations from their large, happy families, all sitting together on the right side of the auditorium, each one trying to out noise the other and cause a bigger scene than the last.

Those students were embarrassed and clearly mortified. Each were dressed in suits and ties grinning from ear to ear-- until their family turned the occasion into a free-for-all. Those three names took a full 10 minutes to get past.

I wondered (silently of course) if this sort of thing happened at really important ceremonies-- Like the swearing in of a President or Supreme Court Justice. Does some one lecture the crowd like they are first graders only to have some idiot make the event all about them rather then the person (s) being honored?

It all seemed pretty ridiculous to me, the rowdie parents, I mean. Weren't they the ones that raised their children to be respectful? Their kids were some of the best dressed of the day and seemed to take it all very seriously. Perhaps if the bull horn was sounded by the parents of the student wearing ratty flip flops or even the three kids who chose to go barefoot to their graduation, I'd understand the carefree attitude.

Oh well, to each his own. I'm sure the students will look back and remember dad-- with his beer belly hanging below his "Help, I've dropped the tv remote and can't reach it" tee shirt and recall what a gigantic fool he made of himself bellowing "That's my boy, now go get a job!".

Two more ceremonies are coming up. The next is my niece's graduation from college and on her way to Veterinarian School and Godson who (and I use this term loosely) "graduates" from eight grade to move on to high school. Eighth grade "graduation" make no sense to me, but that's another post.

The one thing I know for sure-- I guarantee you I will be too busy sobbing with pride to shout anything idiotic to embarrass our graduates.

Have you been to a graduation lately?

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

Gasp!

I was reeling over the alleged lack of beef in Taco Bell tacos-- You know, the lawsuit claiming only 36% of their taco beef is actually beef, giving a whole new meaning to the term "mystery meat".

Godson loves Taco Bell and so do I, so the mystery meat revelation was unsettling to say the least. When Taco Bell countered with their 88% real beef public relations campaign I justified the remaining 12% "fillers" as "seasonings and vegetables" and put the controversy out of my mind.

Every Tuesday after school, the Taco Bell #3 Combo-- 3 Crispy Taco Supremes, are smelling up my car on our drive home. He usually eats two and I, um, err, occasionally eat one, as we cruise over the hill to my side of town.

Have you ever eaten a taco while driving twist and turns on a narrow canyon in swiftly moving traffic?

It's best left to professionals-- Which I am clearly not.

Case in point-- Driving home yesterday, starved out of my mind, with the Ghostbusters theme song playing at an ungodly decibel level. With a taco in one hand and the steering wheel in the other, navigation aided by my knee, I was taking a bite of (translation: practically inhaling) my fave mystery meat supreme when I hit a whopper of a pothole....

And swallowed a HUGE piece of taco shell-- WHOLE. Dang!

As the very hard and very jagged two inch square chunk of taco shell scraped its way down my throat at 35mph, I momentarily thought I would, quite frankly, die from the pain.... So, in an attempt for serious relief, I guzzled 16 ounces of root beer so fast it started coming out of my nose-- But still the taco-- now painfully lodged in my throat, did not budge.

Still driving hair-pin turns in fairly heavy traffic, I searched for a spot to pull over but to no avail and started coughing like a crazy person, all the while Ghostbusters, which Godson has on "repeat", continued to blast my eyeballs around my head. Godson, by the way, was oblivious to all of this and continued munching casually on his tacos.

Fast forward two miles later, the little grocery market half way over the hill brings me hope for salvation. I pulled into the tiny, over-crowded parking lot, jumped out, and gave myself a freakish version of the Heimlich Maneuver in an effort to dislodge the piece of taco shell that was now feeling like the size of New Jersey half way down my throat.

Unfortunately, instead of moving the shell up and out-- The crispy shell moved south and further down my esophagus. But-- if I leaned forward and slightly to the right, with my head tilted to a 45 degree angle to the left, with my arms over my head, I could almost breathe comfortably. This position was not, however, conducive to driving, nor was it a red flag for any of the market's customers to offer assistance, so the problem and the pain continued.

Godson eventually rolled the window down and asked what I was doing. Squeaking out a call for help, he was a champ, jumped out, and started pounding on my back, before running back to the car and get me his soda.

If the situation wasn't bad enough already, I chugged Blue Mountain Dew to try to "soften" the chip and relieve the pain. All I can say is, if the mystery meat, an enormous taco shell stuck in my throat, or choking root beer up my nose didn't kill me, I assure you Blue Mountain Dew nearly pushed me over the cliff-- That stuff is nasty, and thanks to the hideous amount of caffeine it contains, I am sure to be awake for the next 36 hours.

But "the blue Dew" helped soften the crispy taco shell enough to move to a less painful position and I could freely breath again.

Thank gawd.

As I type this, about 8 hours after my "leisurely lunch", I swear I can still feel what can only be summed up as a "taco chunk" in the middle of my chest that feels similar to "heartburn from hell". This experience confirms my "adventure" was anything but FAST food.

Was this a junk food "teaching moment" for me? You bet!

I know for sure I will never drink a Blue Mountain Dew ever again. I will never drive with one hand while I inhale food with the other. And I will only eat Taco Bell sitting in the restaurant dining room directly next to the Heimlich Maneuver "how-to" poster.

Better yet, I think I'll skip tacos all together for, oh about, the next hundred years.

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

Photo Credit: © kmit - Fotolia.com