Well - I did it. I finished an entire row of my friend's quilt project in one week. This may seem like nothing, but since it was taking me 2 to 3 weeks to finish a row before, I'm feeling rather puffed-up and jaunty!
Yes, it's that self-delusion thing. Doing 1000 tiny steps and not looking at the "big picture" until Sunday afternoon! It worked. One more row to go and I'm off to cutting for another. Yes, Vio - I'm nuts.
There is something so very soul-satisfying for me in working like this. Almost a connection to the past, although I have no past. My paternal grandmother taught me how to quilt - sort of - and there is a LOT of rememberance involved with that, but I also feel this connection to all the other women who have cuddled their families in fabric layered and stitched.
This isn't just a hobby - it's a meditation, and a catharsis. A means of expression for one who's words and drawings cannot express properly. Marqueax's Star was such an expression - of love and caring for one we have watched walk through the fire and finally come out the other side, a better man for it.
BabyStar was an expression of my desire - unfortunately an expression that was denied, but such it is - and it remains. She doesn't know it, but my initials and the year are penned on the back. It too is a legacy, although not of the caliber of Marqueax's Star - or of the new one that will begin after this pastel nightmare is assembled.
Strange to me how the quilts are getting names now. Each so particular to the person I make it for. Manda's Pinwheels, BabyStar, Marqueax's Star... and the other two I have in my head but won't mention here because I'm not giving away my partner's and my trade secrets. *wink*
But one is an expression of hope - and the other an expression of faith. Lea will know which is which.
Back to the laundry - already in progress....