Lately I've fallen into the habit of just sitting around being awesome instead of like, going out and being awesome. I'm mastering the art of being awesome in the privacy of my own home, while hand-quilting, drinking various flavors of Crush (preferably grape, but there's been a lot of orange lately), watching things that star Bradley Cooper (or too many Italians), eating hazelnuts, and pretending I'm not a cat lady.
It's awesome. I promise.
You know what? Quilting is fucking hard. Really fucking hard. Maybe not hard hard, but there is a surprising amount of math and time and blood involved in this business (religion, math, and blood are necessary to give anything meaning - so I'm almost done. It takes time to make a religion anyway). I did not realize the intense situation I was throwing myself into. All willy-nilly.
I finished the top part. The quilt. By Christmas. I put in a box, gave it to my dad, and promised him I would finish the fucking thing.
I'm like a servant indentured to myself. I'm a slave driver with a human inventory of one. I'm like Cinderella and my own evil stepmother. I'm like a fucking Clydesdale, except how does one quilt with these massive hooves that are much better suited for hauling around beer?
The part where I actually sew the top and the bottom together, like a sandwich of scabs and tears...that part I just started, and I've got this giant fucking quilt and a wooden hoop and all of this bullshit thread, and THIS IS GOING TO TAKE ME UNTIL SPRING. I never want to sew again. But I'm going to finish it, I'm going to do this every day until it is done, because I said I would back in October when I started the damn thing. And it's beautiful, seriously, I'm incredibly proud of it, this fucking fabricated, desolate succubus, stitched together by determination and sentimental bullshit and love and self-loathing...I could sell this thing for five hundred bucks, easy. Probably more, if I sold it at Notre Dame. It's a domer quilt. Because the Dad is a domer. Everyone is a domer except for me.
I fucking hate Notre Dame.
So to keep me going, I'm drinking four cans of Crush a day because that shit is like crack cocaine, and watching Alias, because Will Tippin is like crack cocaine. And trying to avoid talking to MoLinder's cats, which is really fucking hard because they talk back. Verbally, not like psychically, and not with real words - they use total cat words. That would just be weird. Shut up.
...
25 comments:
Why did you not consult me before promising to make a quilt for someone. I could have told you that my sister once did this and it required her dropping out of school for a year and not having a job so she could finish the fucking quilt.
oh please please please rassles - can we see a photo of it?
yes a photo!
It's funny the picture you form of people through their blogs. For instance, from the admittedly little knowledge I have of you, I never, ever would have pictured you making a quilt. My mind is officially blown.
Cat words are mostly imperative, giving orders like pet me and feed me. Anytime a cat speaks in the declarative, it's always in the first person. "I am using your lap for a bed." or "I killed you something so I'm a good kitty."
i think the crush is altering your mind...
My cat is talking to MoLinder's cat psychically right now. You might want to put that quilt in a drawer tongiht.
if you name your quilt "desolate succubus" it won't make much money at the senior citizen center auction. pics, please!
"Verbally, not like psychically, and not with real words - they use total cat words." And my friends call me weird. Anyway, I really didn't figure you to be a quilt person. Fighting dragons, exploring the Amazon and eating Oreos ... yeah. Quilt? Not so much.
I really super like orange crush. But it makes me puke. Every time. But it tastes soooo delicious. I want some right now.
Good luck with the quilting.
I hope you put up a photo of the quilt. That is one of the best gifts I've ever heard of, your dad is fortunate.
My experience with quilting is sewing the top but never finishing it up with the batting and bottom. I'd have to take some sedatives to keep me in a chair that long. I admire your patience and thoughtfulness.
My fat, stubby peasant fingers are crossed for you to finish before the quilt is too bloody. And yes, a picture is in order.
Quilted blankets are awesome, staying home and being awesome is just as productive as going out and being awesome, i mean how would my cats know i was so awesome if i went out all the time? and though Will Tippen and Crush soda are wonderul things, nothing absolutely nothing is as great as crackfuckigcocaine, especially if you make it yourself and it's all strong and you shake and jitter and it kicks in the little pleasure center in your brain and i do mean kick in, like Bruce fucking Lee kick in, of course it's really not good for you and i don't recommend it to anyone but if you could bottle and sell the feeling you get for three seconds when you exhale you'd have more money that Bill Gates. just sayin.
For future reference, crocheting afghans is much easier. I did it twice when I lived in NYC. The first was when I first got up there and was in a nesting phase and that was for me. The second was for baby brother in his school colors, and that had nine narrow strips, so it was possible to crochet it on the subway and then stitch them all together at the end. And there's no blood involved.
Umm... how much of your blood is on the quilt? If it looks like a prop from CSI: Miami you might want to think twice before giving it to your dad as a gift.
Madame, because I get these ideas in my head that I can create anything I can imagine, and then 3/4 of the way through I start to hate my life.
Nurse: I promise, when it's done.
Jessica: Should I like, put up one of me quilting with a cat sitting next to me? That would be ideal. I'll just create this blog post pictorally, which is a derivative of "picture" that I totally jut invented.
Rach: I like to sew. I made half of the things in my apartment. Besides, it's a bad-ass quilt, not a sally-ass quilt.
RF: And usually they just come out as "mrow" which, like Chinese, has inflection and tonal-based meanings.
Gyna: I think you're just jealous that I had grape crush and you didn't.
Franklin: I would believe it, because MoLinder's cats are devious little bastards. Thanks for the warning.
Daisy: If I named it "desolate succubus" I don't think my dad would want it, either.
Sid: Sewing is something I always wanted to learn, I think, just like swimming or building a fence or growing tomatoes or assembling a clock. I want to learn how to set a bone and make my own cheese and design my own furniture. Stuff like that.
Ambiblob: This is why the crush must be consumed in moderation. Four cans of crush is like, the epitomal definition of "too much of a good thing."
Kitty: I will. And thank you. This part is just fucking exhausting. And that's why people have quilting bees.
Chris: I appreciate that.
Kono: I've never been much of an actual crack cocaine person. I'm fucked up enough as it is.
Red: But what's the point, if there's not blood and frustration and self-hatred? Why would you do anything? I'm half joking.
Del-V: Not a lot. Just some little spots, here and there. Needles, you know. It's not like I wrapped a body in it or something. Besides, if I were to wrap a body, I would use a shower curtain. Duh.
All that math is what scared me from starting to quilt or knit or whatever in the first place. You must be really smart... or it's the chain-drinking of Crush revving up your mad math skillz.
Fanta is the Heroin of the soda world. Just a note Fanta is the Heroin of the soda world. Just a note Fanta is the Heroin of the soda world. Just a note Fanta is the Heroin of the soda world. Just a note
whoa. my apple+C buttons got stuck and then it posted. dang.
just a note
At what point do you get the yarn out and do those little quilting knots at the square corners, instead of quilting with thread? Because you still have to put the border on.
you should post a picture because the quilt is fucking awesome. i was going to write that my cats aren't devious bastards but they are. and you are officially a cat lady.
also, will is great but vaughn is rocking my world.
You always wanted to learn to sew and make your own cheese? I always wanted to learn how to do an emergency tracheotomy
Flora: It's not that it's hard. It's just that there's a fucking lot of it.
Meems: I'm hopelessly devoted to Crush.
Beth (Liz?): I'm not doing the yarn thing. This is all hand-stitched design, right now, and then you fold the edges of the back fabric over the front and bind it. I think. I don't really know. I don't have an instruction manual or anything, I'm just kind of looking at other quilts and figuring it out.
Nurse: Hey, and set a bone. Tracheotomies are easy. All you need is a ball point pen. Oh yeah, I saw that episode of ER with Ewan MacGregor, you don't even KNOW.
I love quilts and am completely in awe of those who can quilt. So, like, I'm in double awe of you. In thrall? In your thrall? Wait, this is starting to sound pervy. Never mind.
You know, it was suggested that maybe you make your own cheese but you know, if you sit around talking to cats and quilting long enough, you will. Make your own cheese that is:)
Post a Comment