There’s progress in the sweatshop.
I’ve been working on strip blocks for 🤷♀️…I have no idea what project, but when I need them, they’ll be there. Assuming I can find them, of course. You know how that story goes.
This entire box of 1 1/2″ wide leftovers is from a Bonnie Hunter quilt along I did a couple of years back. They’re taking up space and need to go. Why they need to go remains to be seen, but I’ll chalk it up to a semi-Marie Kondo moment. For that, I blame The Diva. They’re not bringing me joy just sitting in the box and I’m too cheap to just get rid of them.
And who uses a phone book anymore?! They’re still faithfully delivered out here and I usually wind up tossing them, but they work pretty well for my string block purposes.
Ziva has been keeping me company and roasting herself in front of the little floor heater. Lord knows I can’t seem to function alone for any length of time without her input.
I’ve stitched up a dozen each of the red and blue strip blocks. Love the reds, the blues not so much.
The blue blocks turned out more aqua than true blue, but I’m not sweating the small stuff here. They’ll either work out well in a quilt or become a “don’t” for the Quilt Police to wag their tongues over. Biddies. 🙄
I also got a wild hair to make pot holders. Again, the Insul-Bright wasn’t “bringing me joy” just laying there all rolled up and I’m on a mission to purge some of the fat quarters that’ve been squatting in the storage cabinet in the dining room. What, you use your dining room cabinets for dishes? Amateurs.
The cabinet runneth over and no, I won’t show you. No sense giving anyone ammunition for a Hoarders intervention.
They turned out pretty cute if you don’t look too closely. I must say I hate Insul-Bright. What’s in the stuff that makes my hands itch like mad? Do I want to know? Probably not.
I’m saving the final thread clipping for evening time when there’s nothing on but NASCAR or a Chuck Norris movie marathon. Shoot me now.
In the meantime, I find that I’m now enjoying my new to me sewing studio with minimal guilt.
I’ve left enough of His Army Awesomeness’ stuff in here to maintain a minimal level of testosterone. Not so much that I sprout chin hairs, but enough that when he comes home to visit he can sleep in here without fear of having to overshare his feelings and binge watch Lifetime chick flicks.
The view, what there is of it, isn’t so bad either.
Until next time!