“Since when has a deadline made any difference? I can manufacture more excuses than Walgreens has pills.”

“Not surprising. We are highly creative women.”

MJ scraped the fingers of her right hand through her newly shorn hair. She always had it cut shorter in the spring just because she hated wasting time messing with her hair during the gardening season. After all, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, definitely had four seasons, and one especially dripped with humidity, therefore wash-and-wear hair. And no time to complete the abundance of started things. How often had she promised herself she would not start anything new until she had completed at least one of those on the shelves Daryl had built for her? This room, more than any other in their house, showed off his skills as not only a carpenter but a master finish carpenter/cabinet/furniture maker. She brought herself back to the phone conversation.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I heard about what they call a UFO group.”

“UFO? Sorry, I’m not into the unknown ga-ga stuff. I didn’t know you were either.”

“No-o, loony. Unfinished objects. You know, like all the started but not done projects of all kinds. I’m afraid to add up all I have, and you? Why, you would be the winner in any contest.”

“Thanks.” MJ stared at the upper shelf running around the room about eighteen inches below the ceiling. The shelf that was crammed with plastic bins and containers of all sizes, from shoebox to twenty-quart. Some holding one project, others filled with who knew how many. Knitting, crocheting, attempts at Hardanger, tatting, hand weaving, cards, cross-stitch, fabric painting, quilting, rug making, embroidery, ribbon embroidery, and probably others she couldn’t remember. Some of the bins had been through three moves over the years. And now one of them was scattered around her feet.

“Well?”

“A UFO group?” MJ frowned to herself.

“Yes. We’d invite all those we know are in this situation, get together once a month to work on whichever project we choose, potluck lunch if we want, or however…” Roxie paused. “But the clincher is—we agree to not start any new things until we finish all we have.”

MJ shook her head. “Sorry, can’t agree to that last line. I’ve got presents to make and—”

“And none of those things in all those bins could be used as gifts?”

Ignoring that last bit of advice, MJ pondered the idea. “You think anyone else would be interested?”

“Who knows? We could talk it up and see what happens. Think about it. We could take turns where we meet or whatever the group decides.” Roxie had the gift of getting excited about something and then getting others excited.

“How about we talk about it tomorrow when walking? Looper did not get his morning walk, and he’s giving me the mean mother look.” She looked down at the sighing basset at her feet. Daryl had said that when he retired, he would walk Looper every evening if she walked him in the morning. Yesterday they both forgot, or put it off due to laziness.