Every now and then, in a burst of insanity, I attempt the impossible. The latest fiasco was signing up to take a quilt class. On the surface, it looked like a good deal. I was going to sew blocks 10" square which comprised only five pieces. I was sure I could learn the technique and then bang out the whole quilt top in a few days, getting ahead before the next grandchild to tied the knot. It was recommended we use batiks. I had them in my stash. I would not have to buy any materials.
So far, so good. I arrived at the first class with my batiks and rotary cutter, ready to do four hours of making small pieces out of big ones. The teacher said to layer the fabrics four deep, right sides up. One of the advantages of batiks is it is difficult to tell which is the right side, so I just layered and cut, carefully placing the "right side", namely the one that I had turned up while cutting, up when I sorted them into piles.
I carried my box of pieces home, ready to mix and match. I took one piece from each of five piles, laid them out to see if they made a pleasing block, and stuck them into plastic zip bags. When I began, it was easy to get five different fabrics into each block, but as I eliminated them, the less favored batiks began to overweight. In order to prevent duplication, I had to raid my plastic bags and exchange.
Therein lay the seeds of disaster. Pieces got turned over. They would still sew together, but would not make a rectangular block. Every seam was curved, too. This meant that one could not just match up corners and sew. I found myself ripping out 57% of all seams sewn. Although I have always loved batiks, I had profound regrets for the duration of the construction.
The quilt turned out fine, and my hair was already grey, so no harm came of it.
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