From the Magic Cardboard Box. I didn't make this appliqué. It traveled here in the box. I did cut all those half square triangles. Those are my fabrics. I recognize them like I would my children. The triangles are for another UFO which I did not pull out of the box for a picture. I am out of touch with picture taking. Deleting most. Usually the light is bad.
I have a finished, quilted appliqué and patchwork project to show you. It's from the 6 weeks when I went to live with my father so he could leave the care unit and be home.
He nearly died of pneumonia. Was in Intensive Care for weeks. Was in the hospital for more weeks and then moved to the care unit. They told him he couldn't go home to live alone. I called him there each day at lunchtime. Encouraged him to sit up at first. Later to swing his legs over the side of his bed and sit up. Later to stand next to the bed. And then two steps and back to bed. Five steps. To the doorway and stand and look. Out into the Hall. Down the Hall. I told him when he walked to the end of the hall I would come live with him until he was well. He did. I did.
Each evening, while he watched Becker on tv- I would work on one of the chicken heads. When each was finished I would hand it to my father and he would run his fingers over the pieces marveling at how no sewing showed. He was well enough to drive and cook when I left. If he ate his healthy meals, he could have ice cream. Or cheesecake. Or both. It was all low-fat but he didn't know that.
I will try and get a good photo while G and Riley are out walking. On the floor. Flat. And without a dog trying to sit down on it. In good light. All it needs is binding and well, the friend that machine quilted it missed a spot. I have to figure that out. I mentioned it and she ran off weeping. I never mentioned it again.
The quilt itself has been stored in the Magic Attic since the day my friend ran off crying. She left her home and husband a few months later. No one has seen her since but I did get an email years later--she said she was happy. Things not related to my quilt but perhaps the last straw, as they say.
3 comments:
I enjoyed the touching story about you father, the one about the quilter....hmmmm!
Two interesting stories. The weeping probably had little to do with the quilt and everything to do with her life unraveling. Good to know that she was happy later.
I loved the story about your dad. Sounds like you pulled him back from the edge. I used to watch baseball over the phone with my day. Him in New York, rooting for his beloved Red Sox, me in Georgia, rooting for the Braves.
The part about the quilter - you never know what's going on in other people's heads until it spills out all over you.
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