in the spirit of full disclosure
November 19th, 2009 | Written by hurricanic
I admitted not that long ago that love can sometimes lead me to do crazy things…like sew. I mean, wasn’t it just in August I was disassembling and stitching together beanie babies? Yes. Yes, it was.
What I haven’t admitted to was that I had invested in yet another project that Aaron sadly will not receive this holiday season. Why? Oh, let’s first set the scene, shall we?
Aaron and I had traveled to Central Missouri one fall afternoon to spend the day with his family. As his family tradition goes, they tour local church feeds – the kind where you pay like $8 and get to eat ungodly portions of sausage, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans amply garnished with bacon, and cobbler. Just the thought of it makes my stomach turn. I poked politely at my plate seeing as I 1) don’t eat red meat, 2) hate fried chicken, and 3) wonder why even eat vegetables if you’re going to douse them with pork. To “walk off” the cattle call feed, we headed upstairs to the United Methodist Women’s craft fair. Granted, most of it was more of a bake sale (as if anyone could really imagine eating zucchini bread or rice krispie treats after all of what tragically unfolded in the Fellowship Hall)…but it was the route to the parking lot. As we politely meandered through the booths, Aaron spied a Mizzou blanket…the kind that’s made out of two pieces of fleece and then notched and knotted together on the sides. This one? Side A: tiger stripes. Side B: Mizzou helmets. He immediately fell in love. I, simulateously, threw up a little bit in my mouth. At this point in our relationship, he had started talking to me about his hope of getting married next fall…so as I saw him emotionally bond to this incredibly tacky blanket, all I could think about was having to battle it’s appropriate use over the course of my life (tailgating vs. living room throw).
I creatively averted him away from purchasing said fleece and instead lead him towards the kettle corn. It was then I knew if things were to continue forward, possibly toward an altar at one point, I would have to figure out ways to accommodate his obsession with Mizzou a bit more tastefully. A week later I found myself at a quilt store with my mom staring at a wall full of flannels thinking, “What have I gotten myself into?” Now, you should know my mom, sister, and aunt are all die-hard quilters. They love it. It courses through their blood, ironically much like Mizzou does in Aaron. They’ve always invited me into their little twisted world of cutting and binding and batting. I’m frankly all together too ADD, too impatient, and too “Jackson” to be a good quilter. Quilters need to be Swedish and full of precision. But this was the perfect opportunity to join them as I sought to bless the man I was dating. I was decided: I would embark on a black and gold rag quilt.
Forty-five minutes and $95 later I was walking out of said quilt store with 10 yards of fabric and a huge, first-time quilt project ahead of me. I had my mom, sister, and aunt elated at my step into QuiltLand. I was a bit less enthusiastic, as I literally said as I walked out of the store, “We better not break up.”
We broke up.
So very quickly after saying my goodbyes to Aaron, I realized I was $95 poorer and the owner of 10 yards of fabric I had no desire to use. Why? I’m a Jayhawk, for crying out loud. A week or so later, I made my way back to the quilt store. I plopped my bag of flannel on their counter and declared, “We broke up.” They looked at me in terror, thinking as a first time quilter I was trying to return my fabric. Well…I’m no idiot. I know you can’t return cut fabric. What I did hope was that they could help me either 1) figure out where to sell it and hopefully recoup my costs or 2) find fabrics to blend in with the stupid Mizzou inspired prints to make it less “this was supposed to be for an ex-boyfriend” when all was said and done. Well…an hour and $130 later, I walked out with enough orange, green, and brown fabric to add to what I already add to make (wait for it…) three quilts.
Let me say that again: THREE QUILTS.
May I remind you I’ve never quilted before?
And so tomorrow, I am going to meet my mom and my sister for a day of sewing as I attempt to stitch up ridiculous amounts of flannel into Christmas gifts. I’m sure there’s some sort of metaphore in there about quilting and salvaging and whatnot in regards to moving on after a break-up, but I just don’t even want to hear it. I just want this damn flannel out of my house.
This story is wrong on so many levels, dear friend.
i miss you. i miss your blog!!