So I took Stevie Wonder along with me up toward the mountains today. We shared deep thoughts as we followed rt 11 along the grandeur of Lake Winnipesaukee, past Alton Bay, Weirs Beach, and Meredith. We marveled at the way the sun shone on the White Mountains, and we thought we picked out Mount Washington (though probably only because it was the prettiest peak). We agreed that the folks way out on the lake in school buses and old camper are loco. I told him about the one time I walked out onto that lake. The slightest sounds of the ice below paralyzed me with fear, and I tiptoed back to shore, waving out at my friends and thinking that if they fell in, well, they'd just be fucked because I'd be crying like a baby from shore.
Our destination was a kick-ass quilt shop in Centre Harbor. Stevie stayed in the car with a hot chocolate. Said there wasn't much in there for him to see anyway. I started to feel bad, but he shooed me away and told me to take my time. He's good to me like that.
Keepsake Quilts is a big enough shop that busloads of blue-hairs come from all over to check it out. It's grown over the years, now housing a cross stitch shop (sub par) and yarn shop (I drooled with desire to learn how to knit just looking at all the pretty yarns--seriously pretty stuff) in addition to the fabric wonderland that is the heart of it all. And the shop doesn't hold your run-of-the-mill JoAnn Fabrics cheapo material. This is nicer, and the patterns are classier. It took me over two hours to get my act together and make my purchases (wandering through a store looking for the right fabrics and considering the right pattern and making sure it'll all work is serious business).
And when I got back out to the car, Stevie was there waiting for me. He smiled. He said he'd been listening to the snowmobilers while sipping his hot chocolate and thinking about how soft and slow a Saturday can be. Then he laughed and said, "Let's go home."