Oooh look pretty colors! Vintage flour sack fabric! Yay! I love old prints like this. I was taking pictures of my collection for one of my sister-in-laws (I have many, the one who lives up in Oregon) who might make Baby Bug a quilt for Christmas and I thought, “Hey, these pictures are kinda neat. Maybe I’ll post them on my blog.”

No time is better than the present to move some attention off my “blogging while under the influence of pms” post. Ugh. I hate admitting I was pms-ing. (As if you all are going to pull out your handy dandy notebook and log in what day it is so you can watch me flip out again twenty-four days from now…) I didn’t even know I was pms-ing. I kinda stopped keeping track of my cycle days sixteen months ago. I guess I better get back in the habit of it. I hate being blind-sided by crazy emotions. I hate being embarrassed of my blog posts. But at the same time I’m glad I blogged about it.

You guys have a lot of good advice and reading a bunch of comments from nice concerned readers sure beats medication or a trip to the shrink. I learned a lot from yesterday’s post. I learned that I need to acknowledge that I have trouble managing my anger. Crazy, but I didn’t really realize that before. Looking up that page on anger was very helpful. But the most important thing I learned is that it is possible to manage your anger for the sake of your kids. This gives me hope. Thank you Internet.

So that’s that.

What do you think of all the pretty flour sack fabric swatches? I know some people won’t like them. It’s weird how tastes change from generation to generation. My mom and I have complete opposite tastes in colors and combinations. I, however, LOVE these colors and combos. I just want to collect more and more. Maybe make a quilt entirely out of old flour sacks. Now that would be cool.

I bought these one yard pieces at an estate sale for 25 cents each. I thought it was a total deal and the lady who sold them to me thought she was making a killing. Funny how that works. What’s that saying about somebody’s junk is someone else’s treasure?

Which is just another way of saying I should lighten up about my mom and all her junk. I’m going to take your advice, internet, and next time I visit I’m not going to lift a finger to help out around the house. (That was the third thing I learned from you guys.)

Peace out.