Friday, March 08, 2013


I don’t profess to be any good at it but I love to quilt.  My maternal grandmother, Lillie Mae Addison taught me.  She also taught me how to make dolls from socks.  Those lessons came from simply watching her manipulate scraps of nothing into magnificent works of art.  Her craft grew from necessity; mine from simply wanting to do what I saw my grandmother do.
And so I sometimes quilt.  Usually I only do so when I’m stressed.  Or bored.  Or stressed and bored.  Or when something, or someone, inspires my creative juices.  I love creating baby quilts so the birth of a new baby does my spirit good.
I’ve only done one king-sized quilt.  It took forever and required some assistance to manipulate.  I burned out the original motor on my old Singer sewing machine finishing that quilt.  At the time it probably would have been cheaper to buy a new sewing machine but I wasn’t ready to part with my old Singer.  It had been a gift from my mother who insisted that a woman worth her salt needed to know how to sew and cook.  She insured that I could do both before she sent me out into the world to make my own way. 
Now my replacement motor doesn’t sound like it’s going to last me much longer.  I may not have a choice but to send her to old sewing machine heaven and find her replacement. 
I have a dear friend who finishes her quilts by hand.  Ms. Sharon Barrow amazes me with her skills.  So much so I don’t think I’ve ever shared my love for quilting with her, only envying and admiring the beautiful work she creates so effortlessly.  I need a machine to do what she does so easily with just a needle and some thread.  Although, if the motor to my machine dies I may have to test my skills and give quilting by hand another try.
Until then though, I think I’ll steal a sock from my guy and make me a doll.