This latest quarantine brought back the quilting bug that bit me right around this time last year. Who doesn't like to curl up on the couch with a comfy blanket when they're sick? That's one of the only bonuses of being sick as far as I can tell. (Especially since college professors really couldn't care less if you get behind on your homework because you're coughing & sneezing your brains out - whoda thunk it?)
Last year's quilting experiment produced little - a few random scraps that I've never been able to figure out what to do with, a new-to-me sewing machine that I bought second hand & could never even figure out how to thread - Kristy, help! - lots of pricked fingers, & finally, a glorious lovey blanket for Chop that he toted around for a week & then discarded as if his poor horribly uncrafty mother hadn't spent weeks working on it. After that, the quilting materials were stashed away in the laundry room cupboard, a reminder of my utter failure at being one of "those" moms. You know, those wonderfully crafty women who can make Halloween costumes that look way better than the store bought ones in under an hour; who can make perfect cupcakes without covering their kitchen in batter & almost catching the house on fire because of a mixer malfunction; or the one who can turn a crappy old broken mirror into a sweet work of art that adorns their laundry room. (Cough, cough.. Allie!)
Nope. No reminder needed. I'm the epitome of uncrafty.