chop wood carry water sing the blues

Every single morning Mo and Ade manage to leave every light on in the house and the closet doors standing open.  My fussing and complaining all these years only serves as an outlet because it sure hasn't impacted their behavior to change. But its one of those things that makes me sound just like my mother. 

This morning I feel the full weight of it being Monday.  Five days ahead of waking up each morning wonderingf if I should call in sick.  The birds are chirping and my sewing machine is set up on the kitchen table, the place is quiet, and I organized my humble stash and related "stuff" yesterday and its tempting to stay home.  But one day never satisfies me but makes it more aggravating to return the day afterwards.  So I will go ahead and chop wood carry water and sing the blues.

I made this postcard last night as a thank you for a co-worker who gave me a piece of fabric from Australia from her vacation.  The picture was drawn by my sistahfriend, Dee. I scanned it onto muslin and hand stitched for some texture and a little pop as the scanned image alone was lifeless. The only thing I added since is thick fuzzy thread in jewel tones couched around the edge.