Noggin Boy

Oh, she says, I forgot to mention that I received an email from the Kansas City chapter of Project Linus. They need 7,000 quilts in the next four weeks. We’re going to do this!

Wait, I replied, 7,000? You and me?

Not just you and me, silly. All the Project Linus folks in KC. But we — you and me — we’re gonna average two a day in the next four weeks.

So I should envision that I’m in high school again, on the football team this time, it’s August and the team is doing two-a-days?

I don’t really care what gymnastics you do in that there noggin of yours. Lord knows what nonsense … Anyways, it’s going to happen. You can do this willingly or you can do this.

Okay. What is the advantage of willingly?

Fewer bruises, you know, like when you trip on the stairs running away from responsibility.

Gotcha. Two a day. You’re right. We can do this. Last year we did one a day for those seven months, so …

One a day, she says, is so 2020. Try to stay up with the times, Noggin Boy.

Well, I said, we’ve got the system streamlined for those crib quilts we make. Why, I could probably do a crib quilt with one hand tied behind my back.

Umm, she said, these will be twin quilts, and plan on using two hands.

What? Twins?

Yes, twin quilts. Big boy beds. So put on your big boy britches and let’s get to work.

But what if I don’t want to?

She didn’t have a ready answer for my question. Noggin Boy stumped her. She just looked at me. For a long time. Then she said one word — willingly.

Oh, right, I said, willingly doesn’t sting.

On day one I finished quilting the first four.