Tula Pink

‘Tis the season for critters to wander listlessly into the middle of the road. Only Miss Lizzy House can make it adorable. She made the cake for Pam and from what I understand, which is often very little, it was an attempt to satisfy Pam’s need to see an armadillo in Texas. I saw an armadillo in TX once. This one is better and delicious, nothin’ about it tasted like chicken. So I would call this my most interesting market encounter, and everyone knows I love a little surprise critter! I think she should be on Ace of Cakes or something, I mean who really wants a cake in the shape of their car anyway? My Honda would make one lame dessert if you ask me. I am hoping that next year we get a Jackalope.

Market was great as usual, a blur of people and quilts and delicious new fabrics. I feel super weird taking pictures of peoples booths, I am not coy and smooth like other people, I come off a little over excited and stalkerish, so I refrain. You can see oodles of that elsewhere, there is a whole list of people reporting on Quilt Market activity here at Pam’s place of bloggery goodness. To be perfectly honest, which is not to imply that I am usually a liar, I spend my days very isolated with the exception of these two weekends a year. I get very excited to go and then spend the next three days wondering why everything is moving so dang fast. It’s kinda like when you stay home sick and don’t talk for a couple of days and then you open your mouth to speak and it all comes out weird, but I’m working on it.

SO it’s that time again. It seems like only yesterday…International Quilt Market is in a few weeks which means little hotel shampoos,  the rekindling of bi-annual friendships, tons of fabric envy and some petty theft in the form of mini soaps and plastic shower caps (I love those things). I have been sewing like crazy and I’m pretty excited about my quilt for the Moda booth. My quilter friend, Angela, is going to do some really amazing stuff with it. She’s a genius, an artist, a genius-artist. I am told there will be some artsy stuff going on in there. I let her do what ever she wants because she always comes up with something I never would have considered. I guess that’s why she is the quilter and I’m not.

The first quilt I make with a new line of fabric is always my favorite. The quilt becomes the physical memory of first working the collection. It’s like falling in love, everything seems crucial and dire. I remember every moment, every stitch. When my seams don’t line up it hurts my heart. It’s like getting to “know” the fabric, I discover new combinations that I didn’t see before. If the quilt would bring me flowers and change the oil in my car it would be like the best boyfriend ever. I mean, it does like to cuddle.