It all started here, which led me back to the fabric store, which led to obsession. From which I have only slightly recovered, as I continue to quilt approximately an hour or so per day. Some days I skip. Others net four or five hours of poking myself in the finger with a needle and going blind from close up examinations of threading the needle or trying to find where it came out the back so I can tie it off and thread the needle again.
I am enjoying it, meditatively, methodically producing something of use and pretty, too. Toots can’t wait to wrap it around herself, sleep with it over her in bed. She woves her kiwt so vewy much.
Some photos of the process, which is nearly complete:
Stage one, in pieces:
Watch the dates, folks, most of these were taken during the 48 hour endurance obsession initial weekend. Pieced together by evening, sorry it’s blurry, so was I:
Next morning, the border is completed. I wanted to try fancy cornering, but then I said it’s good I got this far:
Blood was shed from my cuticle! twice:
(Addendum: That is my grandmother’s thimble!)
Back panel sewn and turned right-side out:
Lost a day to finding a fabric loop and oh yea, paying attention to my family.
See? Not perfect, but getting the hang of it.
Weeks later, I am still quilting.
Mr. Cynic took this on Tuesday:
What may not be readily apparent is that most of the quilting is complete. I’m in the final blue panel now. I also now have a better understanding why at one point in my glasses clad young adulthood, a guy in a bar thought, What are you, some kinda librarian? was a good pickup line. It wasn’t, but I can see why he said it.