CRABBY

I am crabby these days: irritated that my husband, Tom, is still stuck in the United States, grouchy at having to do many home tasks that I'm not used to doing (hauling propane tanks down to the dock, discovering that our truck -our sherpa!- has a dead battery, hauling compost up from the store, etc. etc.), ill-tempered when I have to be the cheerleader for him when he calls and expresses his anger or discouragement or impatience over the process, and anxious that maybe after all of this effort, money, community support, etc., that the border officials will once again turn him away. Crabby!

He has turned in his paperwork, received all of his reports, and turned everything over to his Vancouver lawyer who specializes in immigration issues. The lawyer has said that he possibly will be FED-EXing everything back to him TODAY. And with that, Tom supposedly can cross the border one more time, present his paperwork to the officials for perusal, wait for their answer, and if yes, pay his money for the temporary permit that will allow him to return THIS YEAR. One year at a time, one week at a time, one day at a time. Minute by minute.

So now we wait!

My quilted crabs grace a tote bag. I pieced some warm and earthy pieces together, divided out the fabric with masking tape, and stitched in 9 little crabs. Then with my fine tipped bottle filled with Soft Scrub with bleach, I discharged the color from the crabs to leave behind a hint of the former colors. They are beautiful, yes?

I am crabby, yes! Maybe in a day or two, I'll have some good news.