I’d love to have a dedicated quilting room where I could spread out, never tidy up if that’s my wont and hide my stash from Himself who glances askance at its largesse though never dares to ask if I have enough and The Diva who’s getting quite covetous of its endless potential. Alas, I do not.
That’s Lennie the Featherweight nestled in his throne.
And the dining table usually plays host to a cutting mat and rotary cutter.
Sunday I’d finished up another top and had it laid out on the living room floor to measure for backing when Himself walked across it…in his nasty ‘I stroll the streets and dog poop infested backyard’ tennis shoes. I admit to saying something uncharitable. And then joking about burying a body. Kind of. I got quite a bit of sucking up outta that faux pas.
I’m not a fan of borders so this one’ll be borderless. It’s perfect for lapsized.
Next project, please!