There has been a tragedy Chez Byrne. It has brung me low.
It is no doubt partly because I just posted about how I choose fabric, and said I had gained confidence doing so. Suffice to say that the outcome is the ripping of all blocks for a king size disappearing nine-patch quilt top which had been assembled into rows ready to just sew the rows together in order to finish it. But then, just as I was laying it out to pin the rows, it was like I saw something familiar from a new angle.
It was FUGLY! How could this have happened?
*sob*
I urgently beckoned the Pooch, who, hearing the pure terror in my voice actually put down his laptop and came over. "Do you think this quilt is ok?" I asked, piteously. "Ummmm." said the Pooch. Now although he is not always a terribly intuitive man, and does not pick up on subtle signals unless they're being semaphored directly in front of his glasses, he clearly sensed that this was a delicate moment. "Hmmmm." he said. "Errrrr...it...ummmm.... It might perhaps be.... a ....little....bit....busy?" he said with the sentence ending at a very high pitch to make it clear that this was not his opinion - but only one possible opinion that a group of strangers might give were they asked about it.
I slept on it. Not literally. The next day was ripageddon.
This was the state of the floor and of my person below about waist height once it was all over. Fabrics had been amputated and all other big squares, small squares and rectangles of two orientations had been decoupled and ironed. In the end it was these four innocuous looking baddies which had been the key culprits.
So now I have lots of small pieces in ironed piles plus an extra couple of simple half metres I can use to replace the rejects. I just need to doodle a pattern and sew it up. 'Just'.
*sob*
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