A quilt top from 1945...
Just finished this quilt for a client. She made this top about 50 years ago and is just now getting it quilted. Made me feel better about the quilt tops I have only had around for 10 years or so... (She wanted a pantograph. It must be the age. I think that when you grow up in the Depression, anything that looks like it came off an assembly-line must look fancy and store-bought and expensive. I did a good job on it, but I would have enjoyed free-handing it. But it does get the job done faster, so I won't complain too loudly. I really think that it is a shame to machine quilt a hand-pieced quilt. Blasphemous, I know. But while I haven't the time or the inclination to hand-quilt, myself, it doesn't mean I don't appreciate the real stuff.) This client's son had a very kind comment about my work. When my husband called him to verify her address, he said he was sorry to hear that I was quitting the quilting business. He said he knew several quilters but that I was the only one he'd trust with the old quilts. Now I thought that was nice. Not so nice I'm tempted to reconsider, but it does make a difference doing quilts for folks that are appreciative. I just really want to do quilts that I want to do- not just quilts that I have to do and sometimes it seems like I get all used up on the "have-to" quilts and I don't have much to offer to the "want-to" quilts. Does that make sense? Sometimes you just have to be a brat and do what you want to do!

Have a seat...

Take a seat... Be seated... Pull up a chair... Take a load off...

I found this beautiful chair at a thrift store for only $2.99! I love it and it was just what I needed for my quilting room- a padded seat! Oh, ok, maybe a padded room, too. But how nice it is to sit on a cushy seat, instead of the old hard kitchen chair I was using. Ahhh... and I can sit more comfortably for even longer periods of time now! Just what I need. It is a wonderfully-made chair- mahogany, and not a nail or a screw in it. Some company in Connecticut. It doesn't take much to make me happy.

Meditation.... for Mom...

During my morning meditation, I spent a moment in contemplation of the accumulation of aggravation I felt over the escalation in my expectation stemming from the miscalculation of the expiration of consolation I found in the domination of my mind over my heart... resulting in the constipation of useless information in my meditation.

Now, as a child, I would sometimes say, "But it's not fair!" And my mother would shrug her shoulders and respond with, "Life's not fair." splutter, splutter, uh, uh... Oh for cryin' out loud, what kind of answer is that? It was the truth. Life isn't fair. Isn't that crummy? It really stinks. I've been giving a lot of thought to Debra's (Spincic) assertion that our work spaces tell others a lot about us. Maybe I've been giving it too much thought. But I come from a large and illustrious family of obsessive compulsives and that's what we do. We compulsively obsess. We roll things around in our minds- some of us whistling the whole while. We pick it apart- we're not to be trusted around anything mechanical, unless you're looking for a complete overhaul. We poke, we prod, we pinch- some harder than others. If you have any extra flesh on the back of your arm (and who doesn't?) you better make sure ya stay a good couple feet away from my Dad. We research- how does that really work? We accumulate seemingly useless bits of information. I am absolutely certain that there is not one single question out there that somebody in my family doesn't know the accurate answer to. But of course, when we share our knowledge, the rest of us feel compelled to say, "Naw. You're kidding?!" Really. So after carefully considering the question of whether my work space tells others a lot about me... ah nuts. It does. They might see that I'm creative and that my mind is busy. They may see that I'm sentimental and silly. They might see that I'm passsionate about my family and quilts. But they'd see a lot of other things, too. Things I can't explain. Or don't want to explain. I'm a disaster, of sorts. And when you're that disaster that others see- well, the least of your problems is that others will notice! But it's not fair! What's that line from, "Cold Mountain?" "Ruby Thues, you are a K-tastrophy." That about sums it up. But you know? I don't want to be a K-tastrophy. So, I cleaned my quilting room- "I'd never, NEVER call it a "studio." That implies that an artist creates here- whoa whoa whoa! Way too high expectations...just the resident disaster at work. So I call it my "shop." My shop has been pristinely orderly and clean for several days now and yet... it doesn't seem to be having a positive influence on the mess within. My Mom said, yesterday, that I'm chained down and that while it seems like I'm moving... I'm really only going in circles. Could that be true? Well, she was right about the whole, "Life isn't fair" business. Anybody got a pair of boltcutters? "Cause I might be forced to gnaw off my own leg!

Ott-Lite Days....
or a more reasonably priced fascimile. It has been gloomy and drear and cold here for the past few days, and I am tired of feeling dreary, gloomy and coldy. I don't know how those who live even more North than me can stay cheerful all the long winter when I am suffering through a rainy October. I first think that I need to eat something fattening to cheer me, but then I check myself and say, "Stop trying to fix a problem that food wasn't intended to fix." Sometimes that works. But what I find works better is listing some of my favorite, everyday, things. My list is getting pretty long these days. Hmmm...there's stainless steel pots, Fiskars scissors that spring back, those little facial towlettes, Dark chocolate Lindor truffles- buy only one, purple flowers with plum-colored flowers, chenille bedspreads, clean wooden floors, Tide laundry detergent and Downey softener- just the April-fresh scent, Irish breakfast tea, new rotary cutter blades, the smell of woodsmoke on a chilly evening, varigated threads, velour lounge pants, Mia Bella candles, 60* triangles, and romantic movies. Well, I do feel a little better. Now, I'm gonna fix me a cup of that Irish breakfast tea and try to get something done.

"Chahmed, Ahm Shuh."

This is a picture of my "Charmed, I'm sure," quilt. My Honey was working late, last night, and I was trying to find something quiet and constructive to do at 2:30am. So I filed away some old pictures that I had found on cd's. This quilt is a snow ball pattern, but with alternate-color corner triangles. I think it gives it a little more interest. The fabrics are all vintage and 80% of them were in a friend's grandmother's stash. Just bits and pieces. So I added some of my own and came up with this quilt. There were a few lone blocks in the bag of scraps, so I just sewed them into the backing, before I quilted it. She was very pleased with her gift "from Grandma."

I just absolutely love and adore old vintage fabrics. The colors are so happy and the patterns are often witty and wild. I get all sentimental and mushy just looking at them. Sarah gave me a big pile of old stuff that her Grandma had aquired over the years at auctions and estate sales. She had worked with some of them- with wonderful results, but then she declared that, "Life is too short to make ugly quilts!" And I see her point. With all the quilts that we want to make in our lifetime, it might leave us in a pinch to just work with all the hand-me-down fabrics that come our way. And it can be les than inspiring to work with fabric that isn't to your taste. But on the other hand... You knew that was coming, didn't you? There is something very liberating about cutting into fabric that didn't cost you $9 a yard. Ahh... no pressure. If you mess up, no screams reverberating through the sewing room. Just an, "Oh well," shrug the shoulders and move on. And it is a challenge I enjoy to make something, if not beautiful, at least appealing from aqua and orange Taj Mahal fabric. (I'll show that one, sometime.) And if I don't like the end results, that's ok, too. Since the fabric is obviously old, folks automatically assume some poor, distant relative made the quilt 50 years ago- how could they be critical of that really, really ugly mottled puke green and burgundy fabric that they made it from? It was probably the best they could do...(I'll show that one sometime, too.) So, again, I'm off the hook.

Nobody home but us chickens...

Austrolorps, Black-laced Wyandottes, and Golden Comets... Aren't those cool names? I also have Aracanas and Buff Orpingtons. Now you know, the reason I have them is because the names are so much fun to say. Go ahead, "Buff Orpington, Austrolorp." Now wasn't that fun? Chickens are neat critters and the eggs can't be beat. I was getting 200 eggs a week, but it has slowed down considerably. What did I do with all those eggs? Well, I gave away about 8 dozen a week to friends and relatives. And my DH bought me a pasta maker- the most incredible gadget ever invented. Home-made pasta is fast, fun, and I feel immensely clever when I cook up a batch. I highly recommend you get one if you have a chance. We got mine on ebay. They actually work just like those TV chefs say they will. Shocking, I know.

I have spent the better part of the evening at Bonnie's amazing quiltville. She has some of the greatest ideas and patterns there. I would be hard pressed to pick a favorite. Maybe the stars. Or the scrappy Bargello. I tried to do some quilting, myself, today, but my allergies got the better of me and I had to call it quits. Continuous sneezing can be quite prohibiting. I think it is a physical impossibility to sneeze with your eyes open. I can't do it. Try quilting with your eyes involuntarily closing every 3 seconds. It's like quilting with a strobe light on. Kinda scary. "Tis the season, I suppose, for strobe lights and scary. I have found that I sneeze in sets of 7. I have always been an overachiever. The thing is this... I am very pleased to let clients know that I work in a smoke-free, pet-free, food-free shop. Alas, all quilts don't have that advantage. I love cats, but I am so allergic that it is difficult not to flinch when I see cat hairs clinging to a quilt. And you know, I've always had the tendency to lean into my work. Can't tell you how many times I have caught my hair in the sewing machine. My mom always pokes me in the back when she catches me slouching- but it is just to get closer to the work. Nothing wrong with my eyes, I just get intensely focused. So here I am, nose about a foot from the quilt from kitty heaven. Hopping foot hoppin'. Stirring up cat dander. I can go about one pass. By then, I am blinded by tears, and my nose is threatening to drip on the quilt. It makes for slow going. I tried some Claritin. Note to self: it doesn't seem to work if you are already symptomatic. So what, exactly, is the point? Back to the Benadryl. But you are not supposed to operate heavy equipment when taking it. Does a long-arm qualify? I have put the needle straight through my finger before, but I haven't the excuse that I was on any medication. Just happened. But you know? Didn't hurt a lick. I must have flinched, 'cause I broke the needle, but I didn't consciously feel a thing. Ached a little afterwards. Now that the Benadryl is taking affect, my eyelids feel as if they weigh about 5 lbs- each. And my head feels like a tightly inflated balloon. No doubt, when I check my blog tomorrow, I'll be wondering exactly who has been posting such pathetic drivel. Drivel. An appropriate word. Who cares about chickens, eggs, noodles, and sneezing in sets of seven? But such are the things of life. my life. and that's ok.