Most of the first row is done.
Question!!!
How is it, I’d like to know, that a
sonny boy who hasn’t set foot in my quilting room for months, marches right in,
big as you please, when I have his quilt on my frame???
Yeah, that was Caleb, ka-thumping
right down the stairs, purring Tabby cat in his arms, looking for the manual to
his weight-lifting set, which used to reside at the far end of my quilting
frame. I never said a word about my
quilting, just acted pleased to see him, and chatted about four-wheelers,
purring Tabby cats, helmets, and the boxer puppy he’s in search of. Dogs and cats and four-wheelers generally
distract boys from quilts.
It was just a couple of months ago
that my brother waltzed in unexpectedly – and half of the quilt I was making
for him was draped over the back of the couch.
Are quilts somehow mysteriously
magnetized to the people for whom they are being made by telepathy? Or maybe osmosis, with knowledge molecules
traveling from the quilt into my fingertips, permeating upwards and storing
themselves in the trochlear notch, and then jumping into the projected quilt
recipients’ brains when I get within a couple feet of them??
Okay, done with that rant; back to
the quilt. Soon I will be ready to roll
it forward a smidgeon.
