Free Range Quilting, the Epilogue and a Commentary on Friendship

The quilts are "done" or at least as done as they will be this summer. Why did I think I could do this? I didn't even know that there was such a thing as "fabric scissors." I am done, done, done with projects. So, guess what? There will be NO "Free Range Quilting: The Sequel."

The bunkroom is done... pretty much. Have to repaint the stairs but that can wait. My brother's family arrives tomorrow so this is done in the nick o' time!

Now, we segue into the friendship discussion.

A friend is someone who nods with a smile when you announce that you are going to piece together quilts from old jeans despite the fact you do not know how to even thread a sewing machine (borrowed from Kaite Howes -- thank you!). "Oh, that's nice."

A friend is someone who knows that you are going to be in way over your head and she is going to have to bail out your sorry ass and still lets you go ahead with this project.

And then you call with a whimper and she gives up two whole days of her life sewing, patching, adjusting, moving 20 lbs of denim everytime we do a seam.
without glaring at you,
carping,
bitching,
snarling
or whining.
Debbie Griffin, I owe you!

Free Range Quilting

As you recall from last post, I decided on a quilting project. Cut up old jeans, bought denim, assembled. My straight pins are all bent.

I pieced and pieced and finally ditched everything to start free range quilting (my term). I started with one piece and just kept adding. I borrowed a sewing machine. There is some Bible verse about getting into heaven.... I just remember that being rich does not do it and there is a reference to the eye of a needle. Damn, that eye is small. My eyes are shot and I have been cussing up a storm trying to get that stupid thread through an elusive hole.

And then, there is the bobbin. Every time I get on a roll, the bobbin runs out of thread.

Nieces arrive saturday.... I may need to just buy sleeping bags. Next post will be finished project of bunkroom.

I hearby request that master quilters Leigh Douglas and Mary Barrett forgive me for this grave insult to the art of quilting. I could not help it...........

SewWhat

Sewing is a major source of trauma in my past.





Starting with Girl Scouts. I was a very successful Brownie, I'll have you know. Girl Scouts was a different story. We had this lame project of making an apron. Materials: thread, rickrack, a long piece of canvas type material. That's it. the apron was to be a long rectangle with a tie fashioned out of a long skinny piece of material. Sew rickrack on bottom. How tough can that be? As it turns out, it was overwhelming for me..... I cheated and had help and was caught by the troop leader and I resigned in shame. To this day, I never wear aprons.



Flash forward to adulthood. My father gave me a sewing machine as a present (wedding? christmas? don't remember). Well, that was as useful to me as nuclear warhead. To make it worse, he gave me a kit to make a down vest for my brother. He might as well have asked me to perform a self-lobotomy. The material was slick and impossible to sew.... down feathers flew in the air, and a ZIPPER??? I soldiered on, setback after setback. Finally, the vest, as it were, was finished. A tragic looking thing. I hereby apologize to my brother for the ugliest sewing project ever. But, it was not my idea in the first place.



So, here we are today and I am, of my own freewill, undertaking a sewing project. With the optimism of an amnesiac, I have decided to make throws for the twin beds in the yet-to-be photographed bunkhouse project. I decided that old jeans should not be tossed but saved for future use. Ok, I was inspired by the Gee's Bend quilts. Now any observer could note that if I could not assemble two pieces of fabric to make an apron, how in the world am I going to piece together random patches to make a duvet cover? Good question. No answer.



I suppose all this shows is the triumph of the human spirit in facing the ghosts of the past......or being a damn fool and thinking that I can pull this off.

Time Travel

I believe in time travel. Really, I do. I left the 1950's in Montana on Thursday and jetted into 2010 in Raleigh, NC. There are more stores in the Delta terminal of the Raleigh airport than in all of Fishtail and Nye combined. And stuff... plain old stuff that no one needs. Reason for the trip? My ex-father-in-law's 90th birthday -- a celebration of a live well-lived and a much loved person. Can I call him my father-in-law? Do I need to put an ex by his name?

but... the return trip... the RDU airport this morning ... at 5:20 am. I was reminded of Temple Grandin's work. She has become a recognized authority on the design of kill floors and slaughter lines--- so that the animals move to slaughter without becoming agitated. Seems that the TSA has adopted some of her measures as bidnessmen were shuffling compliantly ahead clutching boarding passes. I heard and --- I KID YOU NOT--- a bidnessman tell a fellow traveler "if you can monitor it, you can measure it. If you can measure it , you can manage it." and I can dump manure on your pithy sayings.

Airplanes are quite similar to the trucks that take animals to feedlots.... cheek to jowl... only a few have a view. I suppose the difference is that airline passengers do not have to stand in their own waste. Interesting that so many focus on improving the lives of animals when we could also direct some attention on the lives of humans.

But, I am back. Back in the land of no tv, no stores, no commercials. The trees smell fabulous and real manure is actually much more appealing than corporate manure.

Why I like Nye

Pappy and his shop

Carter's Camp

Reason #384: Carter's Camp. The local saloon.... the only watering hole around.

Reason # 385: The Nye Mall. Chipmunks have found my stash of birdfood and this is not good. Now that they have found my deck..... I worry that they will learn how to open the windows. So, I went down to the Trading Post (known as the Nye Mall) to find some container. Didn't see anything. Bill, owner of store with his wife Judy, asked what I was looking for. I told him and he said -- well, if you can mind the store for a few minutes, let me look in the garage. So, I sat down and ran the store. ... he returned in a few minutes with a large metal bucket with lid and gave it to me.

I am sure store owners in Atlanta would let a customer sit with an open cash drawer........

Reason # 386: Pappy. Pappy (he got the name after he married a woman with nine children) runs an automotive shop. He calls all women "Sweetheart," claiming that he can't remember names. He calls me Lee half the time now which warms my heart. I took him a homemade chicken pot pie a few weeks ago and he raved about it. So, I took him another when I went to get my oil changed. I asked him for a piece of paper to write down the cooking instructions. "Sweetheart, I saved that paper just in case you might make me another one."

Reason # 387: The Trading Post again. I was assembling a lamp on my deck and one stupid little nut fell through the planks and I never could find it. Down to the Mall. Found some washers and nuts but nothing to fit. Bill went off to his house and returned with just the right size nut and allowed as how I could come look at his nuts any time.

Reason #388: neighbors. Tom Wolfe and Lane Davis rode up on horses this afternoon as I was messing around with the home improvement project (turning room above garage into bunkroom). They looked around the garage and asked if I needed help getting the mattresses up the stairs. HECK YEAH. So, they took 2 mattresses and 2 box springs up the stairs for me. Got on the horses and rode off.

bling

Putting the "You" in Do-it-Yourself

as in project. do-it-yourself projects. The premise behind the DIY, as we shall call it, industry is that handy people can really do just about anything with proper tools and materials. Fine. But what if you are not handy? What if you are the Barney Fife of home improvement?

This little vignette should say it all. I am painting the stairs up to the room over the garage, the guest quarters of the future. I am painting the risers black and the treads barn red. I carefully taped all edges but ... dang it... the paint just drips and the brush takes on a life of it's own. I was showing off the painted stairs (and I DO plan touch ups). Shawna said ---"so what's the tape for?" and doubled over laughing hysterically. OK. So there is lots of touch up in my future.

One day, I was swinging the new paint can out of the car.... the Home Depot guy had not firmly tamped down the lid and a wave of brand new oil based high gloss paint went sailing over the driveway. Sure is permanent. Several have proposed methods for cleaning this up. I am going to just draw chalk around it and call it a crime scene.

Do you know how hard it is to paint baseboards???? They are too close to the floor and painting like Venus on the Half Shell is just not comfortable. But, I have painted the floor... twice... it is done and there is a collage type feel to it as a few moths were permanently encased in paint when they lingered too long on the floor. Also, a dust bunny or two became entombed. My standards slip.

Next up? applying barn wood to the end walls. and this is NOT DIY.... I draw the line when table saws are required.
stay tuned.

Don't Mess With Me

It is true that many here are fiercely independent and don't cotton to people messing with their bidness. (remember, the unibomber lived here). And sometimes these people make the effort to educate the rest of us. But, PLEASE..... I wanted to pass this guy and get in front and slow down so that he could fume over my Obama stickers on MY car.......

Of course, there are those who just want you to know their hobbies. Betcha no one in Atlanta has the "we trap" tag!

And for those of you who wondered if Costco sells the same stuff everywhere..... you can buy yer tractor oil at the Costco in Billings.

but what I love best are the sunsets... no story here... just beauty that takes my breath away every single time.