The first time I went to the Houston International Quilt Festival I cried my way through the quilts. The power of all that creativity, emotion and brilliance was almost too much to bear without bursting into my version of a good Lucy Riccardo boo-hoo. If you have never been to this amazing quilt extravaganza you should gift yourself with the experience. Boo-hooing is not required.
I took vacation days off from work each year as if I were a migratory bird returning to my homeland and yet I did not feather my nest with cozy quilts lovingly made by the fireside after my other chores were done. You see, I had a long running aversion to the sewing machine born of several bad high school homemaking classes that required that I produce a garment that I would actually wear upon my person. As far as I was concerned, all sewing machines were possessed by demons and snarled wads of thread that threatened my sanity and self-esteem. That there was an actual place to "adjust your tension" on the machine came as no surprise to me.
Quilting would just be one of those things that other people did. There are plenty of things to do with a needle and thread to keep my hands busy. Besides, I had plenty of time if I ever changed my mind.
Secretly, I knew better. I figured that if I started quilting, nothing would ever be the same.
So as they say, "Now, you've gone and done it." I retired, moved to the country and fell down the rabbit hole of fabric squares, rotary cutters and a steam iron.
"I told you so," says that annoying internal voice that I carry around inside my head. But she also tells me to get up early and sew while the house is quiet and stay up late while I can listen to my audio book while I fool around with fabric. She is just as knackered on quilting as I am.
If you quilt. You get it. If you don't, be careful because once you start, there is no turning back.
So welcome to Frayed Around the Edges, my attempt for me and that voice in my head to have a conversation about this wacky exercise of cutting up perfectly good fabric into pieces and sewing it back together. I hope you will join in.
Diana,
Ever Frayed Around the Edges