My sewing machine and I have struggled to maintain a healthy relationship of late. I spent all that money with my first technician to still have problems with my free-motion quilting. Then, I bucked up and tackled sewing a simpler project. I thought we were on the mend. I ordered silver variegated thread from my local quilting store, waited a couple of weeks for it to arrive, and yesterday sat down at my sewing machine ready to try again.
My sewing machine has not been cooperative of late. In fact, the darn thing has been downright obstinate and temperamental. Its behavior has meant that it has done hard time both in the repair shop and in the closet while I actively ignore it whenever my friends come over for craft night. Nor am I alone in my technology woes. Every kind of technology inspires people to rage beyond every kind of reason as evidenced by the universal love for the scene in Office Space where the much maligned office printer is beaten to death to the gangsta tune of die, motherfu…, die. Now, I’m not quite ready to drive my sewing machine out to a remote field in Kansas and beat it with a baseball bat a la Office Space, but my machine definitely could start toeing the line a little more obediently or we may very well take that drive.
I have been meaning to make these pillow shams since I stitched together my very first quilt years ago. Years. As part of my happiness project, I’m rolling around to unfinished lingering projects and finally knocking them off that perennial to-do list. Although other happiness-project goals may be cast on the wayside more than I’d like to admit (like reading Latin and writing every morning for 30 minutes), I’m slowly and surely making progress on new and old crafting goals.
I am so pleased that I have finished the top piece for my winter rosettes quilt that I’ve been diligently piecing together for weeks and weeks. I’m proud as the proverbial peacock, as pleased as punch, as positive as a parakeet, and… as pickled as a pig’s foot. Yes, pickled. I’ve been so anxious about this quilt since I realized exactly how difficult it was that I feel quite pickled.
Yesterday, I wrote about my progress on my latest quilt project and posted a picture of the most complicated block I had ever made. I knew that distinction would only last until I made the second block. Last night, I pieced it together, and the distinction passed as I knew it would.
After I finished piecing and pressing the block, I waltzed up to my husband (who was busy doing manly things like updating the weather stripping on our front door) and announced, “You’ll need to ooh and awe like you’ve never oohed and owed before.”
Then I showed him the block, and he gave me a spectacularly sassy ooh and awe before adding more seriously, “Actually, that’s really cool.”
Yep. My husband said my quilt block was cool in earnest. I love that man.
As I worked at piecing away my second of the twelve blocks later that night, he announced that I had certainly gotten my money’s worth of crafting time out of this quilt. Maybe this means he’s less annoyed that we don’t currently have a dining room table! Either way, he’s impressed, and I’m so in love with this block.
When I purchased the Noel Winter Rosettes quilt, I was 100% convinced that I was purchasing a kit for a queen-sized quilt. We need a second winter blanket, and the fabric was charming and festive. When looking at the pictures, I knew that the pattern would be a little more complicated than the quilts I’ve already made. Let me tell you: I was spectacularly wrong on both counts.
I did not realize how much free time I had until I went from fostering a high-needs seven-year-old girl and back to being childless again. I have so much free time. Why haven’t I given my house a thorough cleaning or written a book or learned how to build furniture or tackled poverty or … parented a child? In many ways, I am still grieving the absence that she created, and in many ways, I am so relieved to have control and quiet and safe animals again.