MY SEWING – SO?

29 04 2012

My mother sewed beautifully all my growing up years.  My sister can sew perfectly.  I am a real mess when it comes to sewing.  Just never could manage to do any sewing or needle work of any kind.  When I finished it, it looked like I had done it for sure.  Some people just can do things and others cannot.  I tried.  I really did.  I darned my husband’s socks when we first married and he threw them in the waste basket after they hurt his feet all day at work.  I took Home Ec like all the girls did in my age group.  The teacher hated me by the end of the year.  You can read all about that one in my humorous and pure fun book entitled In The 1940’s.  Remember, all my books are $10 each plus $2 postage and they are well worth that much.  True fun and lots of living history.  Great!  Can order from me anytime at P.O. Box 2249, Benton, AR  72018.  Just send check and I will send book – gladly.  My storeroom is getting full.  Thanks.

Anyway, getting back to my lack of sewing ability, I have all these wonderful kids and by the way, I am also a great cook and can do just about anything else except sew – So?

So I decided to make each of them a quilt.  Now, I know that most people don’t decide to make quilts, but I did.  I figured I could do that one easy enough.  I bought 2 flannel sheets,  each one twin size.  Then I drew a picture on one of the sheets.  This was all free hand drawing.  Starting with a big clown and balloons, I painted the picture. Then I joined the two flannel sheets together.  After putting on the binding, I embroidered around the picture.  This attached the two flannel sheets to each other with the padding in the middle making it a quilt.  It was really pretty and I was duly proud.  By the way, that quilt is still in use today and it is really old so must have done a pretty good job.

Then the Fair came to town and I decided I would enter it just to see what happened.  I carried it proudly to the judging booth and presented it.  The lady looked at me and looked at the quilt and then she fingered it all over and looked at me again and asked me what I wanted to do with it.  I told her I wanted to enter it in the Fair.  She said, ‘But honey, it’s not quilted’.  I just looked at her and started to sputter a little bit and then the lady in charge of the booth came by and said ‘take it anyway.’  So the lady did.

Now I was so excited.  I had actually made something and it was entered.  Hot Dog!  Then when the judging was over.  I somehow missed out on the judging part, probably by intent as I didn’t want anyone to know that it wasn’t really quilted like everyone else’s.  But I didn’t care anyway.  That evening, my husband drove me to the fairgrounds and I hurried inside to pick up my quilt.  Sure enough, there was a ribbon on it.  An actual ribbon.  Of course it wasn’t first place by any stretch of the imagination.  But I still got a ribbon.  I think I still have it somewhere.  And I also had an envelope with $.40 in it which was my prize money.

After that, I was so proud of my quilt forever.  And I continued to make  a total of 16 over the years.  Each one has a different picture on it. Everyone still uses them.   I had kindergarteners who took theirs to show and tell.  Some have taken them to camp.  Others wouldn’t dare spend a night without their quilt.  One of my daughter-in-laws suggested I make them and sell them.  She said I could sell all I wanted to. But that would defeat my purpose.  I just wanted to make something that I could be proud of and I have done that.  It was fun but I sure wouldn’t do it for the money.   It is a lot of work and takes a long, long time to make one.

But, it was fun.  And I would do it all over again if I had a reason.  But all my reasons already have a quilt.  And besides, it isn’t quilted.  That lady at the Fair just didn’t know that I had made new rules about quilting.  Mine was quilted just fine.  Wasn’t my fault I didn’t know how to really quilt.  My way works o.k. anyway.   I have proof of that since all those quilts are still being used today.

 

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