I made this flannel rag quilt for a friend’s upcoming birthday, congratulating myself (insert back pat here) that it was finished before her birthday. After popping it into the washing machine and dryer to achieve the ‘raggedy magic’ I so love, I pulled it out to discover that some of the stitches had popped.
All. Over. The. Damn. Thing.
Y’all know how much I hate to curse and I can honestly say I didn’t do much upon making this unfortunate discovery. Mainly because I was shoving Julianne’s wonderful toffee into my gaping maw as a form of catharsis. !@#$%&* rag quilt! So, I did the only thing I could…instead of ripping it apart and starting from scratch (no time!!), I sewed over the previous stitches. All of ’em. Again. Do you know how freakin’ hard it is to sew a rag quilt AFTER you’ve ragged it?! O.M.G.
Have I ever told y’all I have a lead foot? Two days worth of piecing condensed into two hours. The Diva kept helpfully suggesting that maybe I needed a break. Perhaps the demonic glint in my eye was a clue to my impending implosion. Or maybe it was the whackadoodle way I was talking to myself.
It was seventy some-odd degrees outside the day I finished it hence the flip-flops (gee-mah-nee, but I need a pedi!), with mosquitos the size of 747s buzzing about (you think I’m joking) and I was sewing flannel. Perhaps that accounted for my odd behavior. Or maybe it’s just that I’m weird.