Quilt Show Penance: How Himself Atones

As a mother, I covet those moments of quiet solitude with only the voices of my multiple personalities for company ringing about inside my cranium.  I love those moments, live for them, actually.  Too bad they last all of five minutes and end with a flush.

So, it was with a sense of guilt/giddiness that I looked forward to a trip to the Wildflower Guild quilt show in Temple…all by my lonesome.

Yeah, right.  Himself decided that the little woman didn’t need to traverse the dangerous I-35 corridor alone and offered to drive us down there.  By us, I mean ALL OF US.  This was a red flag and highly indicative of Himself having quite possibly made some sort of unauthorized purchase for which I’ve yet to be informed.  He’ll, of course, wind up shacking up with the dog outside for the foreseeable future.  In the meantime, he’ll try to atone by driving me places he’d rather not go.  You should know that road trips for our clan are about as much fun as a rectal exam from an arthritic physician.  And in defense of my driving capabilities, I’d like to point out I’m the same chick who drove from here to San Antonio with only The Diva for company…and without the benefit of pharmaceuticals, I may add.  God and MapQuest had my back.  It was all good.  But I let him do the manly thing and drive us.  I’m surprised we didn’t have to don animals skins and have him drag me to the truck by my hair just to keep with the theme.  But I digress.

So, it was me and The Diva and the quilt show.  Nothing spells fun like trolling a quilt show with a sulky nine year old in tow, know what I’m saying.

Now, when it comes to quilt shows, I follow a set pattern.  Up and down the aisles I go, not zig-zagging across like some drunk during Mardi Gras.  It’s orderly and controlled…all the better to see the quilts and whatever merchandise needs to come home with me.  I have a plan.  Once finished, I do it all again, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything the first time around.  This plan has the added bonus of driving The Diva (and Himself and His Awesomeness) bat shit bonkers.  It’s the little things, y’all.  I keep telling you, it’s the little things.

Here’re some pictures of my absolute favorites…most of which are paper-pieced because I’m a paper-piecing ho.  Roll with it.









Are you sensing a theme here?  Assuming you and I are on the same page, I think it must’ve been Judy Niemeyer appreciation day or something.  All those perfect spiky points and smooth curves.  One day, I too shall lose my schmit and make one of these.


Once The Diva decided to act decent and join the human race, I was able to get a few pictures of her.  Enjoy.







It’s a toss up as to which was her favorite…Hello Kitty or this one…




Remember The Last Supper Quilt that made the rounds of quilt shows several years back?  It was made of 1 1/2 inch (maybe smaller) squares.  If you viewed it up close, it looked like gobs of congealed color.  Kind of like gazing into the porcelain throne after having hurled your breakfast.  How’s that for a visual?  You’re welcome.  Anyway, if you backed way up and then looked, there it was…THE LAST SUPPER!  Jesus and the disciples…hooray!  Not globs at all.  That’s what this wolf was like.

I have scads (that’s code for ‘alot’) of vintage ladies hankies from my Granmommie and I thought this pattern would be a good way to showcase them otherwise someone might use one and then I’d have to dig a hole and we all know how anti-sweating I am.



Last, but not least, I had to support local (and some not so local) quilt shops.  The batiks are to die for and the Halloween glow in the dark charms will make a cute I-Spy quilt which I’d already promised to The Diva if she’d quit being such a turd.  No longer do threats of going to the ladies room deter this child as she loves public toilets.  Frankly, I think she’s amused by my Exorcist-like facial contortions when I’m threatening to lay the smackdown on her.  Maybe that’s one of her ‘little things’.



Afterward, Himself drove us to the dam and threw the Co Defendants over the side took us to dinner at the Dead Fish Grill.  Yes, that’s what it’s called.  Charming.  And tasty.  I still haven’t figured out what he’s done, but he’s in doggie doo.  Time will tell just how deep.  I’ll keep you posted.




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