Why, oh why, did I decide to make a quilt?
I can't give up now, but I abhor sewing. I despise it. It infuriates me. How come it's so stinkin' hard just to sew a straight line?
This is where stubbornness kicks in. Grim die-hardism.
My frowny face is on.
I can't repeat the words that run randomly thru my head while I'm sitting at the sewing machine. (I also hate the sewing machine. Just for good measure. I also hate seamrippers, which is a pity since I have to use it so often.)
Sidenote: There's something about making a quilt that makes me feel like a grandma. Not that there's anything wrong with grandma's, but I'm only 26, for heaven's sakes. And to make it worse, it seems like everything, hobby-wise, that I've chosen to do these days is also grandma-ish.
Patricia asked me, So what've you been doing while you're at your Moma's?
And I replied, Oh, not much. Sewing on my quilt.....got the sky almost done on my fifty-five thousand billion piece puzzle.....pulled out the scrapbook I'm making for Moma's Christmas present.....getting in some light reading, while sitting in the rocking chair.....found some new grey hairs....
I mean, what's next???
Darning my socks?
Taking cholesterol medication?
Saving Ziploc baggies to make purses out of?
(I went to this really cool quilt shop with Moma, and there was this lady there who had a purse made out of plastic bags. She made it herself, and.......I FOUND MYSELF ADMIRING IT!!!)
Just to clarify: I love knitted things so if you happen to want to make me something knitted, please do. I will love you for it.
I will make this quilt if it kills me, aaaaand be complainingly, uber dramatic about it the whole time.