My father-in-law calls it a disease.
If it truly is, I guess I will be exposed to it tomorrow. And if it attacks my body and mind with the ferocity it has unleashed upon my mother-in-law, my own mother, and many others...there may be no hope for my recovery.
The disease, you ask?
Quilting.
My friend has been sewing and quilting for years, creating dozens and dozens of projects in a variety of patterns, sizes, and hues. She caught the bug, and now she's spreading it willy-nilly around town. One by one we're contracting the illness. Tomorrow, she's hosting an informal quilting class. I'm packing up my sewing machine, a hand-me-down from my mother who used it for years, after buying it refurbished from some school's home ec class. This Bernina isn't anything fancy. In fact, I hope it runs. And more importantly, I hope I still remember how to use it. It'll be bad enough when I don't know my border from my binding; what if I can't thread my needle? I'm not sure she knows what she's getting herself into.
She's promised a fun time, lunch, and a beverage or two. And she claims we might actually finish a small quilt by the end of the day. I won't hold my breath.
But I might take my temperature. Because it appears I, too, have caught the fabric fever.
If it truly is, I guess I will be exposed to it tomorrow. And if it attacks my body and mind with the ferocity it has unleashed upon my mother-in-law, my own mother, and many others...there may be no hope for my recovery.
The disease, you ask?
Quilting.
My friend has been sewing and quilting for years, creating dozens and dozens of projects in a variety of patterns, sizes, and hues. She caught the bug, and now she's spreading it willy-nilly around town. One by one we're contracting the illness. Tomorrow, she's hosting an informal quilting class. I'm packing up my sewing machine, a hand-me-down from my mother who used it for years, after buying it refurbished from some school's home ec class. This Bernina isn't anything fancy. In fact, I hope it runs. And more importantly, I hope I still remember how to use it. It'll be bad enough when I don't know my border from my binding; what if I can't thread my needle? I'm not sure she knows what she's getting herself into.
She's promised a fun time, lunch, and a beverage or two. And she claims we might actually finish a small quilt by the end of the day. I won't hold my breath.
But I might take my temperature. Because it appears I, too, have caught the fabric fever.
Comments