It's mine, it's mine, it's MINE

Ours, actually. Our house of eleven years is now offically OURS. The mortage is no more, paid off, finis, nada. Can ya tell I'm loopy with delight? My local quilt shop owner warned me that now my house will begin to fall apart. Well, it was already doing that, seeing as how it's 67 years old. I'm about half that age and am falling apart already. But at least now we're not repairing the bank's domicile; it's our money pit now. (I'm talking about the house, not me.) Woohoo!

Pictured is my celebratory floral arrangement. I got it after my celebratory lunch at a local pizza bistro. During lunch I read my celebratory book purchase: Hoochy Mama Quilts by Mary Lou Weidman. I think her technique is cathartic. I'm all for relaxing my quiltmaking standards. And for using up a bunch of my stash. Which is a mess. The whole sewing room is a mess. But that's another entry. Now, however, that messy room is finally mine, mine, MINE.