My cousin Laura (This may or may not be her real name. I might be changing her name to protect her innocence) was in town this week. You see, her fifteen year old brother is galavanting around France right now, and he gets to go to Disney World later this summer. As for Laura, well, she was fortunate enough to go the place she learned about all year in seventh grade Texas history class, San Antonio, home of the Alamo. Poor thing. Laura decided that her goal for the week was to make a quilt, so I surprised her with Michael Miller Peace when she arrived (and also an assortment of lip gloss, because, well, because it’s important.)
I am not Danielle. Really. I’m not kidding. I am Laura, her 13-year-old cousin. I am visiting her in San Antonio and I get five days to learn the art of quilting. I have the cutest fabric in the world (until I find something better). Peace signs. Flowers. Doodles on notebook paper that look EXACTLY like my science notebook. Butterflies. Green. Pink. Blue.
Nothing is more beautiful than the untouched pieces of fabric that lie on the table, set out for me to make into a quilt. I am so lucky to have the best teacher in the world at quilting. Really, I don’t think you could do any better than she can. I envy the ability to create something. I have made tiny quilts (little ones for projects and other things), purses, dresses, pants, pillows, pillowcases, gift bags, and little tiny pillows that look like animals for my friends that I really care about (the pillows take about six hours to make). But the one thing that I would trade all of the knowledge of creation of those things for is the ability to create a quilt. Lucky for me, I have the coolest, funniest, and smartest cousin in the world who can teach me these ways. I will try not to be my normal, OCD-and-perfectionist-self, but rather tell myself to loosen up (maybe a little).
Isn’t she precious? She’ll be back tomorrow to let you know how the quilt is coming along.