After a welcome break from “playing house”—which is what it feels like I’ve been doing most of the winter—I decided it was time to drag out the sewing machine and turn the 10 meters of fabric I bought last week into bedroom curtains. Which reminded me, as I dug around trying to find scissors and a pin cushion, that I’d come prepared to make a quilt. Before we left home, I chose a quilt from a book of patterns and carefully selected a half meter of this fabric, a quarter meter of that, so I’d have just what I needed. It’s pretty hard to find quilting cottons here. I also packed the book. (I’m not enough of a quilter to wing it.) Problem is, now I”m not sure which one I decided to do. None of them appeal to me at the moment.
In the meantime, we’ve been looking for something to hang on an empty living room wall where—pre-construction—my desk used to sit. The scarf that’s doing temporary service as a wall hanging is really too small. There are, of course, tons of wonderful rugs sold by street vendors. They make great wall hangings, but we already have one in our main living space; I want something different.
Like a quilt? Maybe I’ll learn to wing it after all. I selected colours that seem right from fabric bits I’d brought for the mystery quilt, washed them, and hung them to dry. I’ll need to get an ironing board—called a “burro” here. I easily go months without going near an iron, but you really can’t quilt without ironing. And then I’ll need to get into the zen of measuring, cutting, ripping out, remeasuring, NOT cursing. Oohm. It’s always worked best with snow blowing outside my windows. We’ll see.