Growing up I spent a lot of after-school time and weekends with my grandparents. My mother, and her mother were always involved in one project or another. Grandma–quilling, cooking, ceramics, crafting, bingo, baking, Ladies Auxiliary. Mom–decorating, redecorating, sewing, baking, candy-making, ceramics, upholstery, you name it. One doesn’t always realize how life experience influences your path until you find yourself knee-deep in craft supplies. I was always the one that wanted to go into the basement and “look around”. Always fascinated with what was behind the attic door, or out in the garage.
The weekend of my first open house coincided with what would have been my Granma’s 95th birthday. After the shop closed and everyone left, I was driving away when something caught my eye–a tiny, tiny kitten. With some effort, a lot of ham, and the help of the neighbors, I scooped her up and brought her home. Just under 2 pounds and barely 8-weeks-old. I’ve always been a cat lover, and to this day, I know that my grandmother sent this precious gift.
2013 was a difficult year, but this little kitty reaffirmed the fact that I was right where I needed to be. She’s still here with us, crazy, goofy, and so much fun. And sitting right beside me.