Last week came a package from my friend Em. Inside, some bits of fabric. Em knows I'm a quilter. What she doesn't know, and I have no intention of enlightening her, is that I am a horrible fabric snob. I know that the W store sells fabric, but I cringe when I hear anyone talking about actually using it in a quilt. Fabric from the J store is sometimes acceptable, but, for the most part, if I'm going to spend half my life making quilts I want the best quality fabric available. Of course I'd rather not have to pay top dollar for it, so my favourite parts of quilt shops are the sale shelves!
So, back to Em and the fabric of dubious origins.....I had mentioned to her once that I was making blocks for breast cancer quilts. That may be what started this....... I scratched my head, surveyed the bits and puzzled what to do....These bits were not particularly suitable for the BC quilts. They looked more like leftovers from projects she'd done with her several granddaughters. An idea started to form. It grew and grew and my grin got wider and wider......I'd make her a quilt! Don't groan. This was an excellent idea on many fronts.
- It would be small, something she could use as a table topper.
- It would be simple. I'd start with nine patch blocks and let it evolve.
- It would be finished within a week, so, no danger of adding to the UFU pile.
- No agonizing allowed. I'd just cut and stitch, with my eyes closed if need be.
- I would use only Em's bits and fabric I already had.
- Best of all, play therapy, badly needed, for me!.
Onward! No agonizing. Lay them on the floor, switch 'em around, stitch 'em together! Smokin'!
Rummaging in the stash produced fabric for borders and backing. Before you could blink I was pinning layers together. The end was in sight!
I attached my walking foot and sat down to quilt. And that's when TROUBLE reared its ugly head.
One furlong to run and my horse quit. Sat down in the middle of the track and wouldn't budge! I foolishly urged her on, when, obviously, she wasn't up to the job. Drat! Two lines, the width of the quilt, of ugly puckers! I sat for an hour unpicking those ugly puckers, glaring all the while at my recalcitrant horse. She's a game old girl, my Bernina. We've been together for twenty years. We've made some beautiful quilts and had a lot of fun in the making. But I've been neglecting her and she just couldn't take it any more. She's way overdue for some R&R.
This morning I made a reservation for her to spend a few days at Dr. Gregor's spa for tired and creaky, overworked and cranky Berninas. She'll stay for a few days and enjoy some badly needed, richly deserved, pampering at the expert hands of Dr. Gregor. He'll give her a full body massage, with aromatic oils imported especially from Switzerland. He'll scratch all her itches, lubricate her aching joints, adjust her stitch width and length regulators, feed her only the finest oats and make her feel like a young filly again!