Tag: quilts

Quilts

And the Razzy Award Goes To. . .

Elizabeth E.5 Comments

First, congratulations to Beth Baird, on winning the Practical Bag Pattern with this comment:

“I would totally love this kind of a bag. Our grocery stores no longer give us plastic bags, so this would be perfect for replacing those. And when we travel, it would fold up in the bottom of the suitcase or carry-on to bring home fabric from a shopping spree!”

I’ll get that in the mail to you today!

Thought I’d show you some of the ancient projects that didn’t make the cut into the Finish-A-Long group.

Millenium Quilt

This was a quilt done during our Millenium Year–you know 2000, when all the computers were going to quit and the world was going to end.  I have some a snippet of fabric that says “2000” on it.  I pulled out all my old projects and had my husband help me evaluate them.  He kind of shook his head and said, “Yeah, I’m not quite sure if this is worth your time to finish.”  Agreed, but this doesn’t get the Razzy Award.

Old Christmas Quilt

This gets the Razzy Award.  Note the outdated colors of burgundy and forest green, the precious pre-printed Currier and Ives-type panels combined with Santa Claus motif fabric.  I never even listed it on my 100 Quilts list (the other one is).  I mean, at the time, I thought it was “all that” as one of my friends says when referring to someone who convinced they are God’s Gift to Mankind, but we all know that all things pass away, even a passion for burgundy and forest green.

I am working today on a more updated color scheme, trying to figure out the quilting for my Christmas Lollypop Tree Wallhanging.  I seem to get at stuck spots too often on new projects, as if making a decision has to be practically perfect in every way (thank you, Mary Poppins).  It doesn’t, I keep telling myself.  One of the quotes I have on my syllabus is “The perfect is the enemy of the good.”  Sometimes I think it should go: “The perfect is the enemy of the done.”

And I’m listening non-stop to the news about the Boston Marathon bombers, probably just like the rest of you.  I’m glad at times like this to have the cloth under my fingers, keeping my hands busy while I still think about the sad events of this past week.  Take care of yourselves!

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My daughter’s hand.  Thanks, Barbara.

Quilts

Hat Trick, version #1

Elizabeth E.7 Comments

Schnibbles Hat Trick Version 1

Okay, this is version one.  I wanted to use my Dear Stella Va Bene Italian fabrics and you can see the problem in the “mushy” effect it has.  The reds pop out and you do see the blues, but the separate nine-patches get lost in the jumble.

Hat Trick Schnibble

I noticed that the original pattern also has a bit of a mushed-together look, but it looks a lot better than mine.

Hate the border on my quilt.  Some of it is my fault as the outer 2″ squares were supposed to be 2 by 2 1/2″ but I was listening to This American Life, and just started using the leftover squares from the quilt without paying attention.

This is where quilts become UFOs.  When you charge ahead and something doesn’t work out quite right, then enthusiasm for finishing it is lost.  Yep, yep.  I know it all too well.  Guess this little quilt will be added to the FAL list for this next quarter (which reminds me: I need to compile my list).

Quilts · Something to Think About

On A Day Like This

Elizabeth E.9 Comments

What do you serve for dinner on a day like this?  It’s a day where the food needs to be hearty and warm and go down easily in between the tears.  Soup?  Spaghetti made with that good sauce from Trader Joe’s?  Chocolate needs to be in the picture, better schedule some brownies for dessert.  A whole pan, so more can be cut up and carried in the car on the way to the funeral.

What do you do on a day like this?  The news came early this morning, my husband weeping as he tells me of his brother-in-law passing away in the morning.  I am strong.  I don’t cry.  I get more information later, that my husband’s sister was sitting at Bruce’s bedside, having been awoken at 4 a.m. by her daughter, each taking two-hour shifts through the last few nights.  They sat there, his breathing diminishing, faltering, until at 6:30 it ceased.  A quiet, in-sleep, in-home death.  One we all would choose if we could.

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On a day like this, I finish up the quilt and the angelic quilter lady agrees to a rush job and later, much later, after I sit numbly at the computer, and I become not strong, do I realize how Bruce’s death diminishes our family.  This is not a new idea.  I felt it when my other brother-in-law died, when my husband’s parents died, when my grandmothers died and it has been expressed by writers since time began.  It just feels new, each death bringing with it memories and associations and words that can not ever now be spoken.

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On a day like this, I clean out a cupboard and jar breaks.  I look at it, get the dustpan and broom, wander to the mailbox, ask the neighbors to throw the papers on the porch while we’re gone and then the quilter drives up, bringing me my quilt, making me cry again.  Because.  Because on a day like this we need hands to hold us, hearts to share our sorrow.  And something easy to eat for dinner.