Fast forward twenty + years and look at me now! I sew. Or I try to sew. In fact, almost every time I start a project I end up calling my mom to ask three hundred questions. "How do you thread this thing?" "Why is my bottom thread going all wonky?" "Was I a mistake?" (Oh wait, that's for another post.) My mother is too nice to do it to my face, but I'm sure she's the one laughing now. Boring people indeed.
It only took me six months (or is it eight? who's counting?), but I finally finished my very first quilt. Alright, if you must know, I got my mom to help me with the actual quilting part (thanks Mom), but the rest of it I did myself. Honest.
When I bought all the material to make H's bedding and pillows for her room I never intended to make a quilt. But then the fabric store got the better of me and I came home with way more material than I would ever need (big surprise). So a quilt was born. Not actually born (thank goodness, I still haven't recovered from H's traumatic delivery) but stitched together with love. Um, no, that's blood. Sometimes the needle and I don't see eye to eye. I didn't mean that as a pun. We really don't get along.
A closeup of the birdies in the top left hand corner.
I love rick rack. Especially when it is really BIG rick rack.
Everything good in life should be extra large.
The back side is almost as cute as the front.
I love how the new quilt coordinates with the birdies who live above the crib...
and the bedding that I made.