A lovely lady walked into the shop today. She's a quilter, using fine silks for the crazy quilt pattern she favors. She was excited because she just rented her own apartment and it will have a room that she can set up exclusively for quilting. She had shared a house with her sister, now deceased, and for the first time she has her own space. She's approaching 80. A very young 80, indeed. As they say, if you wait long enough....
I told her about my daughter's quilting blog, and showed her pictures of quilts my daughter and daughter-in-law made. She was happy to find a blog that offered camaraderie and information.
Even I made quilts, two of them, way back when, at the adult evening classes at the local high school. The program was called A Quilt in One Day. The classroom was filled with people who thought this was possible. First we were introduced to the Log Cabin Quilt which was the project for the group. Its theory was explained, and the next scheduled class had us at the store choosing our fabrics. I was surprised at the timidity of the group. Such muted colors were selected. Greys, beiges, for instance. Their completed quilts were dreary, I thought. With a new baby in mind I chose red, green, blue, yellow. Of course I found my completed quilt to be splendid. We all finished our quilts in the few weeks the program allowed. I was so thrilled, I made a second at home, using the same colors in a different arrangement.
My daughter, not yet a quilter, thought they were splendid too (or was she indulging me?) and hung them on the baby's wall. Where in a short time they were sun-faded to the dreary colors I had criticized. A lesson was learned from this - do not buy cheap fabrics. If you put so much effort and pride into it, get fine sun-proof fabrics. Anyway, I had enough of quilting.
Which brings to mind a phone conversation I had with a woman who wanted to sell her deceased husband's books. She ranted, "I want his books out of here. I want that room for my sewing room. I always wanted that room for a sewing room. Out, everything out." "What kind of books?" I asked. "Civil war, Abraham Lincoln. He was crazy. Every penny of his went for books. I remember I gave him money for shoes. Did he buy shoes? No. He bought books."
I say, "But see, if he bought shoes you wouldn't have anything to sell. So it's good that he bought books." She hung up on me.
But she got her sewing room, I'm sure, and I hope she's making crazy quilts.
--Florence
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