Usually, binding a quilt is a very relaxing part of finishing a project. I sit on my comfortable chair in the bedroom, place my feet up on the ottoman, turn the music on, and stitch away. Except today…
The cording to the blinds covering the large window in my bedroom broke this morning, so I cannot pull it up. When I pause to rest my eyes and look out the window, all I see is white, accordion-style nothing.
I am running out of the perfect color thread for the job. After carefully using Thread Heaven (I found it here) to condition the last piece of thread so it can glide smoothly through the layers, I make a few stitches before it tangles into an almost invisible knot. Argh! When this happens, if I cannot untangle the &$@!#$& thread, I tuck it into the binding and make sure it will never slip out. I continue the work for about another inch.
I cannot wait to show you the quilt – the result of a round robin effort and the first quilt I had someone quilt for me with a long arm machine. Two teenage boys will soon be arriving back from school, the laundry keeps saying “Wash me”, there is an article floating in my head and just waiting for my fingers to find their way to the keyboard… Still, I am determined to finish the binding.
Walking gingerly to the kitchen, I grab my bag and car keys as quietly as possible and proceed to the door, hoping the puppy will stay asleep and not notice my leaving the house without him. Woof woof! “Nice try,” he is telling me. Do I go out to JoAnn’s anyway, forgetting the fact that he ‘needs’ to go to the park as we don’t have a fenced in yard, or do I just bag the whole quilt binding idea?
My stomach growls. If I keep this puppy in the kitchen a few more weeks as I try to get things done, I will probably lose weight, publish a book about my experience, and appear on the New York Times’ best sellers list. Woof woof!
I am off to the park.
