quilts

Stick with me here. You'll read the first few paragraphs here and wonder how in the world this is going to have a happy ending, but … it does. I promise.

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I have struggled to name this quilt, as well as to write about it. It goes without saying that 2011, thanks to Jeff's accident, was … hell, let's pick a few adjectives:

This entry needed to be made separately from the other one I just did, because it has a more limited audience. You guys know me; every now and then, I spot an antique quilt top that is the right combination of appearance + price, and I bite on it.

I bit on this one.

It doesn't have a name, and it doesn't have an owner.

The workmanship is solid but not spectacular; it took me looking closely to see that some blocks fudge here and there. I liked both the pattern and color sense; it is a classic pattern executed in a way that feels classic without being modern.

1930s-1950s. I don't feel a need to try to date this too closely. Not sure why; there is something about this quilt that made me say, "it is what it is, and I'm okay with that."

Nobody sees me these days, except for the people who pop by to pick up Jeff to take him out to lunch, so I really need to make a point to write here. I'm alive, I swear; my ticket queue at work is already too large for me to ever die.

I have mixed feelings about that. I suspect I would have especially strong mixed and smelly feelings, post-mortem.

So let me cheat and give you the life in pictures, lately. I have neither the brain power for introspection nor the ability to take a straight-on shot of my current quilt, so we're just gonna have to improv here, kids.

It's been three years since I've seen my second quilt, Star Stories.

I always have a fear of looking at my finished work. I can always find the mistakes, and in Star Stories I know I made many. I've learned a great deal since I made it, but it was the quilt that sparked my interest in using reclaimed, shared, and repurposed fabrics. Forget what's "expected." In this case, sentimental value was more important.

The quilt was displayed at Lexie's wedding reception, even though it wasn't finished; I raced to get it completed and sent off, and in my haste I never thought to get a straightforward photo of it. (What can I say? It was only my second quilt. I had no idea I'd stick with this hobby.)

I survived the second go-live of the week today, and my brain is sloshy and very liquid. I've been sifting through the piles of fabric I cut during the week-long power outage after the April 27th tornadoes…

and Pentatonic is actually starting to take shape. The insane idea of using only two fabrics is actually working.

There are a couple of small mistakes in my template, but it's useful for planning the general idea:

Right now, "Eat This Quilt" is, for lack of a less appropriate phrase, so close to being done that I can almost taste it. Hallie invited me over last night to do some crafting, and I brought it with me to work on weaving in loose threads.

We draped the quilt over the ottoman and couch while I was taking a water break, and it seemed a good time to snap a photo:

Hallie offered to help hold the quilt up, to give an idea of scale. Admittedly, she's not very tall, but — still! — this thing is a beast!