I’m a really bad quilter. Trust me. It looks fancy from here, but I’m not good at it. I do it because I can, not because I’m good at it. I can sew right sides together. And I’m persistent to finish. Because even though it isn’t perfect, it’s a finished blanket. And that’s the main goal. Last week, I saw all my boys covered in a blanket I made. This scene is why I finish. Definitely not because I’m good at it.
I rip when I should cut. My seams are never a quarter-inch or even a scant quarter-inch. One edge is always wonky. My bobbin’s tension is always off. My backs are littered with puckers. Every now and then I realize a seam didn’t catch and it’s too late to fix. But perfection is over-rated. Perfection for me means nothing would get done. The pressure is too high and I’m too lazy. I quilt because I can. I enjoy picking the fabric and envisioning my family under the blanket. I know how to match right side and push it through a machine. I know someone will enjoy the blanket as a Lego mat or it will be used at a picnic. All my crappy techniques don’t matter on that day. And that’s why I do it. It’s that simple.
I started this one as the first for our new house. Along with the rest of the world, I love the yellow and gray combo. I had big plans to decorate the living room in this combo. Seems natural that I start a quilt with that color combo. I ripped the squares and started with a busted machine. My lazy quilting wasn’t a good fit for a broken machine, but I kept going. Finally, I couldn’t take it and got the machine fixed.
When I restarted this quilt, I knew it wasn’t for me. This quilt belonged in another house. Becks walked by and said, “Ma. This is a really nice quilt. Good job.” Thanks kid. Mark saw it and loved the zig-zag on the Charlie Brown back. “This is really great, but we’re not keeping it are we?”
Nope. It’s going to another home that I hope loves it as much as my family did. I hope they scatter Legos all over it. I hope they have summer picnics on it. I hope they curl up under it when they’re sick or when they’re happily watching “Popeye.” for the hundredth time.
And I hope they don’t mind the mistakes.
Enjoy it Jess. It was always yours.