I don’t think of myself as a procrastinator but I am. Not about the “work-work” I have to do—that I mostly jump into and get going. But blogging doesn't really have a dead line and sometimes I can put off blogging until the “great American blog entry” comes fully formed into my mind. Fragments float through only to be abandoned as not profound enough, not complete enough, not inspiring enough—all pieces of the life I try to live with grace. I patiently wait perfection...
My granddaughter Hannah doesn’t have these problems. We were spending a family Sunday together before they left for NC and Hannah decided that she was going to make a cape.
A piece of rust colored material with embroidery on it was produced. Hannah put it around her shoulders and tapped her arm with the opposite hand. “This long,” she said, “cut it here."
I thought for a moment about the drape of the fabric, darts, hems, and fabric grain…I even had a momentary longing for a simplicity cape pattern, girl's size 8.
Puzzled by my hesitation, she encouraged me again by tapping her arm again. “Cut it here,” she said.
I’ve sewn wedding gowns and the perfection of those wedding gowns and all their fittings were right there between Hannah and me.
Hannah looked me in the eye and pressed her lips together. I cut it.
Hannah placed the sewing tin on the hassock and took out a needle and thread and five buttons. While a was thinking about French seams and button hole stitches Hannah lined up the buttons on the edge of the fabric and sewed them on.
Then she folded the other side of the cape over the buttons and felt for the buttons. She then cut holes for the buttons with a scissor big enough to cut carpet. She pushed the buttons through and slipped the whole thing over her head. Then she twirled.

Perfection! How could I have ever doubted it?!