I spent the afternoon at a quilt show in San Luis Obispo. I enjoyed perusing stacks of fabrics, studying quilt patterns, admiring perfect points and color combinations and creative compositions, and watching all the white haired ladies. I found myself thinking, "There sure are a lot of white-haired ladies here. I wonder if there's anyone my age here? Hey! Wait! I am a white-haired lady! I'm one of them! O.M.G.!"
It was kind of shocking! I went to the show thinking about joining a quilt guild in order to make quilt friends, and I was wondering how I'd fit in with the ladies I was chatting with at the show, and I kept thinking of myself as younger than they. (And yes, many of the guild ladies are older than me, and have been quilting a l-o-o-o-n-g time! So I'd definitely enjoy learning from them!) I look at myself every day, and I monitor the sags and spots and sprouting hairs... but I see the me that has spent 50 years being under 50, and only (almost) 3 years in my 50s. I'm okay with it, but I'm not used to it!
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