The fabric of time.

Next on the list is Yoga Boy.
A person who has long displayed little to no interest in my quilts at all.
Damned if I'm gonna let that stop me.
That just makes me want to make it bigger. BIGGER! That's what she said.

I'm making him a quilt of his beloved pond as it appears when you look down on it.

I have decided to enlist Hell Boy's drawing skills to help me capture the look and personality of each and every one of the little scaley dears.

So, yesterday I summoned the courage, ventured forth into the fabric wilderness and purchased 4 m of really cool variegated blue fabric.

Despite my abhorrence of the quilting mafia, I have somehow developed a relationship with the lady at the local discount place.
This began, quite strangely, due to the horror quilt I made for Yasmin a couple of years ago. Of all the stuff I've made, she liked that one. OK...
You never can tell, can you?
I like people like that.

Since then she has always taken the time out to ask after my projects.
She adores my Aboriginal quilt.

I did my best to explain Dad's Schimpf Quilt to her right before I explained what all this blue fabric was for....she grabbed my forearm and laughingly said,

"It's OK, you're family's normal..."

I replied the only way I knew how, with,

"I certainly hope not."

What's so good about normal?
I've never seen the appeal.

Nope. To Hell with that.

While I was there, I grabbed some wadding so that I no longer have an excuse not to complete Poppy's quilt.
Damn me! What was I thinking?!
Due to all the embellishment, I'll have to quilt the bloody thing by hand. Or at least some of it anyway.

Then, I looked around for fabric that was aesthetically close to some of the more difficult fish to cast such as Bandette, Pfuitsch and Dr. Leo Marvin.

Bandette was really worrying me.
She's yellow with black and looks like she's wearing a zoro mask or really bad nerd glasses.
Yoga Boy told me once that she looks like someone dropped a banana peel into the pond.

I cannot argue with that.

Additionally, she is currently loaded with eggs and has a grossly misshapen undercarriage.
I mean, she's completely irregular in shape.
Poor darling looks like a banana peel with a wicked case of cellulite.

By hook or by crook, I will capture her likeness though.
The Universe demands it of me, and I know this because I found a piece of fabric that looks just like her.
I could scarcely believe my eyes!
Stoked.

Next step is for Jeff and I to sit down together and draw up a plan of this virtual pond so that I can figure out roughly what shape/direction the kids will all be heading in.

Then we can draw them precisely and after that all that must be done will be to reverse the images, draw them piece by piece onto Vliesofix, cut them out, iron them onto accurate fish coloured fabric, trim that and iron it onto individual rectangles of blue fabric, sew those all together in the right order, figure out how to make fabric lily pads, pin it, quilt it (or fob it off onto Joanne to do) and bind it.

But can we pull it off by March before he goes to India again? That's what she said.

No worries mate!

And hide it all while it's in progress?

Sure, why not?

And then I need to get on with Mr. Daniels' quilt for his first birthday.

I have decided not to go with a dog theme after all, as I know both his parents dislike dogs a great deal.

I think I'll do a big fuck off religious scene instead.

Perhaps I'll even give Hillsong a call and see if they have any nice Jesus fabric. I'm sure they would.
I'm also sure it'll be all razzle dazzle and blonde.

Just the thing, the very thing.
I can see Daniel now, growing up, playing hide and seek under graven images courtesy of Auntie Simone, the red and green heretic.

For those I am about to deceive, Lord make me cynical?

OK, best get on with it, the fabric of time waits for no one.

Accidentally Purple Quilt.

Ohhhh, shiiiiiiiit.

I accidentally made another quilt.

I didn't mean to, I was just looking for an excuse not to spend all day dealing with a very painful stage of making my dad's jigsaw quilt, and I happened to notice those 6 squares of various 6 inch purple fabrics from that mail out block swap which never really took off.

"Better sew those fuckers together", I thought.

But now those fuckers currently number 121 fully sewn squares, and despite the fact that I was busily cutting, ironing, swearing and hammering them through the sewing machine at an incredible pace, I had no idea who those fuckers were for.

Purple's OK. I like purple.

I thought maybe I'd make it for my friend Pam, who could use it in her spiritual healing room. Or for my 10 year old niece, Yassie.
Nah, Yasmin's a green girl like me.

In the midst of my excitement, I closed my eyes, and just tried to match the vibe of the fabric (don't I sound flakey?) with the person....MAHEB!!!

FFS OF COURSE! My friend MAHEB.
The original purple FREAK!
Going through a rough patch too. Perfect!

At that precise moment, Jeff magically appeared at the door and handed me the phone......MAHEB!

Now, I can keep a secret, but not if it's my own.
Yours are quite safe, don't worry.

So, poor thing, within 10 seconds she knew I was making her a quilt, knew that it was purple, knew that it was all deliberately sewn backwards and that I'd knicked off to the belligerent quilting cow shop that very morning in order to expand my purple stash from plenty to fucking ridiculous, thank you very much.

A healthy stash is a beautiful thing. It really is.

Then today, I scrunched up said quilt top in my new Souths bag and tootled off to work with it for show and tell.
I also took the lunch box full of lollies that were left over from the re-make of Nanna's lolly jar blog.
We had a good day. ;O)

When I said that I'd sewn it all backwards, I meant it.
Once you clip the seams, they go all shaggy and look really cool.

And when I said I visited a belligerent fabric cow, I meant that too.

She's my hero.
She has a huge quad garage out the back of her suburban house filled with fabric.
And cats.

And it's all at a fraction of the cost that it is in a normal patchwork store.

But the best thing is that she really and truly hates people.
I'm down with that.
But I find it so enjoyable to watch her try to contain her angst that I feel compelled to engage her in annoying friendly conversation, even at the expense of my own health and mental well being.

It's hilarious.
She grunts out only the most basic pleasantries with such disdain and barely disguised disgust, that I can't help but see it as the all clear to demand more from her.

I ensure that the tone of my voice remains hideously familiar and invasive. I pepper her with the type of questions that she would clearly rather lose a limb than have to answer.

And I enjoy myself immensely.

As I leave I say "OK!!! Bye!!!I'll see you soon!!!", with all the energy and moderation you would usually reserve for dropping a 3 year old at day care.

My God, she must loathe the very sight of me.
But I love the very sight of her.
It's a symbiotic relationship.

And you know what I like about that place so much?
Apart from the fabric and the belligerent fabric cow?

Usually when you buy fabric -even from Ebay, the retailer will tell you that it comes from a smoke free, pet free environment.

Nuh-uh.

At this joint, I swear to you, she often has three lit cigarettes in each hand at any one time and there are 2 cats and a dog who hang around in there and sleep on the fabric.
I have picked up bolts before only to find them covered with ginger fluffs, and lots of it.
Saves my cats time.
If I ever find a print with a coughed up hair ball, I'm buying the entire bolt. Stuff it.

The smell of stale smoke is so intense that you must wash and air everything for days to restore it to health.
And God help you if you cough in there. She lights up deliberately and stares at you, willing you to object...
As much as I hate cigarette smoke, I immediately move straight over to where she is, in a bid to confound her and her dastardly plan.
So far, so good.

* hack* hack* hack*

PS Gretchen. I in no way forgot that you are a purple girl, or that you really want a quilt. I will bring you something special when I come tailgating/Bundrenetting. Just calm down.

School of Life/Spotlight sale.

FFS

I left work in a flurry of excitement last Thursday, and then it took me almost an hour to get across 2 suburbs.
But absolutely worth it to get to the largest , cleanest and most organised Spotlight store I've ever seen.
That's not to say that it's very clean or organised mind you, just that it could be far worse.

Sadly though, there were no trolleys left when I arrived.

But that's my fault as I had stopped to set the world to right in the manchester section first, by rearranging all the NRL merchandise.
I routinely place all Roosters items at the back (sometimes even underneath the shelving), and replace those vile nasties with all beautiful South Sydney Rabbitohs merchandise instead.
Much better.

Little deeds of kindness and consideration such as this all add up and help with the overall energy and tone of this planet, I believe.
It's called taking one for the team, and you're welcome.

So, my moral quota fulfilled, I was free to mince on down to the quilting fabric section and jostle with the standard herds of aggressive menopausal cows for fabric.

Actually, it wasn't too bad.
Most likely that's because they were all snatching up wishy washy florals and plaids rather than the bright and colourful bolts that I like.

Anyway, no trolleys.
These robust women, most being clearly in the need of some (any) exercise, had taken them all - some now carrying only 2 or 3 bolts of fabric in them.
Pathetic.

Never mind. Trolleys are for the weak.
We're talking about cloth here FFS, not bricks.
Should the need ever arise, I could do 20 miles with 20 bolts strapped to my back. Easy.

Some time later, after grabbing maybe a dozen bolts and struggling to the checkout line...do I need to tell you that there were only 2 people cutting fabric on sale night.. .or did you assume that when I said Spotlight?

Well, I was about 6 people back, trying to balance 2 armfuls of (very nice) fabric, my handbag and my jacket, without dislocating my shoulder.

I thought I was doing rather nicely too. No pain, no gain.

But, I must have looked awkward enough to cause one of the ladies with 3 bolts of fabric in a trolley a little guilt though, because she kindly offered to let me share her trolley...

How nice.

So after thanking her and dumping my 2 arm loads of fabric (far more attractive than hers) into it, I retired to my spot, 2 people back to quietly and accurately judge people by their fabric choices. ;O)

A few minutes later, I realised with no small amount of glee, that just as I was checking out people's fabrics, they were checking out mine.
But, they were assuming that it belonged to her, poor thing.

I suspect it was rather a confusing and sobering experience for her.

My pile of bright 1960's reds and oranges, my dog print for Clair, my glittery white, my fire engine red flowers...you get the picture.
As one lady pushed past her, I heard her remark to her daughter, "OMG, look at that one!"

I glanced at my kindly and long suffering trolley friend, only to see her standing with her head bowed with the shame of being a fabric outcast for having chosen non-cottage themed prints at a Spotlight sale.
Um-ahhhhhhh!

I may make fun of it now, but she really did look a little put out and confused at all the attention our trolley was receiving.

I'm used to it.
Indeed, I enjoy it.
And it was really interesting to me to watch a completely different reaction up close and personal.

Of course, the moral to the story here, can be 1 of 3 things...

1) don't be so lazy as to hog a trolley when you're buying precious little
2) don't let anyone else's opinion mean crap to you
3) don't be so kind/guilty

I'm pleased to acknowledge that I indulge in none of these behaviours, but that I now own a good deal more fabric than I did last week.
And none of it has roses on it.
To Hell with roses.