Welcome to the awesome hideousness of the Applique Christmas Quilt, circa 1999.
I moved into my house on December 23, 1998, and spent one night there before driving to Oklahoma for Christmas, in the worst icestorm Texas has seen in my lifetime (anyone remember the 80-car pileup on 183?). After the holidays at my parents' and in-laws' homes, decked to the halls of course, I came back to my new, shiny, and totally empty and boring home. A few weeks later I hit the craft store sales and brought home a big pile of fabric and a storebought pattern for something Christmasy, determined to get started on decorations for the next year. I distinctly remember having to do some very fancy talking to convince my husband that it was ok for me to spend all of that money, because it was an heirloom decoration we could pass down for generations.
In the words of that really old knight that guards the Holy Grail in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade:
"You have chosen...poorly."
(Remember what happens to the bad guy then? That was me, trying to sew this dadgum thing.)
I was all gung ho at the beginning. I had my own craft room, for goodness' sake, in my giant new house with no kids or stuff in it yet. I had lots of time on my hands.
Time to discover some very, very important things about myself.
- I hate tissue paper patterns.
- Just because the fabric is on sale does not mean it is a good choice.
- Just because the pattern is on sale does not mean it is a good choice.
- Just because the theme is Christmas does not mean it is a classic style. (I suspect this was already a dated look back in 1999.)
- I do not have the patience of a saint.
- I do, however, have the mouth of a sailor. (This is a family trait - all the women in our family reserve cuss words for sewing time.)
- And most importantly, I did not marry a man who likes moose and cutesy snowmen as home decor. (Actually, I don't like that stuff either, come to think of it.)
You know what the really, really funny part is?
I still have the dadgum thing under the bed.
I took these pictures today, and then I PUT IT BACK. Why? I'm not going to finish it, ELEVEN YEARS LATER.
Guess I've learned one more important thing about myself:
I don't know when to let go.