M - I'm the neurotic crafty one

Hi. My name is M and I am an internet addict.

[hi M]

Hi. My problem began some time ago, but I knew I was at my worst when I found "Aunt Fird's Quilting Haven" on the interwebs. It's the end. I had literally read everything. Even more proof, I can't find the page again, so you all think I'm insane and made up the name "Fird" or it's seriously the ever morphing end of the interwebs. It's like seeing into deep space, only to see the creation of the universe. A real mind f*ck.

So let me explain how I got to Goody Fird's. (If you caught my brilliant Arthur Miller reference, then you are indeed intelligent enough to read this blog). My family is party crafty. Not witchy crafty...just crafty.

We're like estranged cousins of the people who spend enough time a Michaels that they begin to smell like the fake flowers. You know those type? If you don't, have no fear, you're safe.

You see, my mom is a very talented artist and my dad comes from a long line of Midwestern sewing machine lovers. They can talk sewing machine models like high school boys talk about their wet dream cars. (P.S. Did you know that Husqsvarna, the company who makes CHAIN SAWS also makes a choice line of sewing machines? I did, because I have one. Sign #1 that I'm fairly lame and border line crafty. I have a sewing machine that was made by the good ol' boys over at Huxes, at least that's what I imagine they're like. Burly men putting together a sewing machine while wearing flannel.) I digress. My dad's sisters (all 3 of them) are into some sort of crafty craft. The Michaels type, not the "Goody Winthrop cast a spell on me" type. He's a tinker-er. He likes to build trellis (sp?) and gardens and does those things.

And I'm the product of that marriage. Example. One Christmas, I asked for a Wii. That Christmas, I got not a Wii, but a sewing machine. My parents clearly knew me entirely too well to see through my "that sounds cool" gift suggestion to my "but I really want a _____". Also, my mother and I have spent approximately 2.5 hours in Joann Fabrics before, a good portion of that debating the merits of a certain sheen on velvet. It's a sickness. You have to leave before the third hour or you turn into a pair of knitting needles or you start wearing quilted vests and wearing weird 2nd grade school teacher earrings.

As if my breeding wasn't enough, my aunts got to me quickly, being the first granddaughter in that family and before I reached middle school, I knew how to cross stitch. High school, my equally as bizarre theater friends (much love) taught me to knit (though I can't remember how). But quilting landing on my desk because my boyfriend, CW,'s mother is a super crafty woman of the professional sort. INTERIOR DESIGNER. Guys, if you haven't actually looked at decorating fabric, do yourself a favor. This stuff is like art but touchable. She gave me a whole pile of remnants and basically said "Here, you crazy crafty hopefully eventually daughter-in-law, go forth and create with this pile of fabric trash." And I did.

The result was CW's third anniversary gift. I'll take a picture and post it eventually. He loves it, actually, and still sleeps under it 4 years later. That quilt led to a quilt for my mother for Christmas (she cried), one for CW's mom (she cried, too, but my cat peed on it before I gave it to her, I guess, so her cat wouldn't get near it, so it's in a closet somewhere), and then a smattering of tiny omg-so-much-cuter-than-a-real-baby baby quilts for various family members and bosses. My brother got a t-shirt quilt of all his favorite/outgrown t-shirts for his college dorm. He says it's the shit, so I'll believe him. I guess it helps that he picked a ridiculous flannel plaid fabric for the back.

I haven't made myself a quilt. So I'm in the middle of one now for me, which is another crafty story for another boring day at the office. So back to how I found Aunt Fird. The real truth is that I have hyped myself up to believe that if I make a certain quilt, CW will propose. I'm not a lunatic, I swear, but I just get these weird ideas in my head. It's like women who make that chicken recipe that shows up every 3 years in lady mags that claims that if you make this chicken recipe, your boyfriend will propose. This quilt is that for me.

It's called the lover's knot, but it's not the traditional kind (don't google it, it isn't pretty). But the modern pattern that I bought years ago has long since gotten lost between dorms, apartments, and boxes of fabric. Hence, the quilting google spree. I've spent over 10 hours on the interwebs search and no go.

WHEN I find that quilt pattern, you just wait...I'll be speeding up or slowing down depending on how CW breathes that day. Poor kid.

Anyway. My name is M and I have reached the end of the interwebs.