This is the next step in the quilt. Last you saw it, it was laid out on pieces on the floor. In the above picture it's been pieced and is waiting to be basted. Since this picture was taken, the quilt has been basted and stenciled in preparation for quilting. At this very second it's sitting in my little quilt hoop, where it is in the process of being hand-quilted.
The problem: I don't know anything about hand quilting. I've hand quilted a very small wall hanging before, but I was just winging it. Now, for some reason, I feel like I should now learn how to hand quilt properly. I am becoming a respectable quilter in my old age, giving thought to to the rules, conceding they might prove useful.
I'm in a bit of bind (quilty pun), however, because I've given up buying books for Lent. I have a book habit that I feed pretty regularly, though I'm good about buying used and trying to find a book in the library before I lay down cold hard cash. Nonetheless, I suspect if I kept records, I'd find that I averaged a book a week.
Oh, but there are so many books I find myself needing! Right now! Like The Quilter's Album of Patchwork Patterns by Jinny Beyer and The Pastor: A Memoir by Eugene Peterson and Free Some Day: The African American Families of Monticello.
And right at this very second I need Hand Quilting with Alex Anderson. I really, really need it.
I could get it on Sunday, because Sunday is your "free day" in Lent, when you are welcome to indulge yourself. I don't know why this is the case, but it is. The problem here? I don't buy things on Sunday. That's my Sabbath practice, with the occasional exception of going to the grocery store. Otherwise, no shopping.
Would it be cheating to ask the Man to buy me Hand Quilting with Alex Anderson?
I suppose this is the point of Lent: to give something up and then to want it back really badly and be forced to ask yourself, What is it that you really need? You know what you want, but what do you need?
I know the answer is God, but I feel like the answer is Hand Quilting with Alex Anderson.
I'm a writer and a stay-at-home mom who keeps meaning to mop the floors because I think it would make me happy if I did. I love books and music and writing, spend entirely too much time in the dentist's chair (I bet I have more crowns than you do), and used to think I was sort of bohemian, but now I wonder. No tattoos. Minivan. That story.