When my sister and I met up in Virginia for our quilting weekend, we chose a place to meet that was not only roughly halfway between our hometowns but that also had a quilt shop. Lord knows, we would need to get out of the hotel room for more than just another gut-busting meal at Cracker Barrel, and we might as well round off a weekend of sewing with a bag full of fat quarters.
Unbeknownst to me, my sister knew of a fabulous place in Knoxville, which was on her route to our meeting spot, and she took the opportunity to stop there before heading on to Virginia. So her fabric needs were met, while I still needed to get a fix. I budgeted fabric money for that trip, dammit, and I was gonna get something.
In typical fashion, we headed into town having only read the address back in the hotel room. Didn't, you know, write it down or anything brainy like that. But the town was so small that it seemed one could hardly miss anything - just drive up and down the two main drags and you'll eventually find what you're looking for. Except we didn't, and had to go back to the hotel, and get her GPS, which told us, "Go back to the last street you were on, fools, and where you turned left? TURN RIGHT - IT'S ONE BLOCK THAT WAY." (I love fighting with GPS units. "Turn right." "I can't turn right, bitch; it's a fucking cemetery!" "Make a u-turn at next light." "You make the goddamned u-turn and get a ticket. I'm going home!")
So it was kind of an ordeal to get to this place, and when we pulled in to the parking lot, we were the only ones there. The shop was located in a house that had been only slightly remodeled for the purpose, and the proprietor was an older gentleman who was hobbling about on a cane and a foot in a cast, and he really, really wanted us to appreciate the new Marie Osmond fabric they just got in. I suppose this was because it was the ONLY new fabric they had received in months and months. Nearly everything was old, and there wasn't much of it ("This food is terrible!" "I know - and such small portions!"), but I did spot some lovely jelly rolls and charm packs in the Maypole collection from Moda, and, as it was the best looking thing in the shop and I was gonna buy some new fabric, dammit, I bought a roll and 2 packs.
Of course, I had to listen to the proprietor tell me all about his diabetes and his broken foot and how he ALMOST DIED falling on the ice and how he moved to Virginia from Buffalo because his property taxes were $6000 a year there and now they're only $2000 and PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LET ME OUT OF HERE. My sister conveniently got a call from her husband and waited outside while I nodded sympathetically (I'm actually very polite in real life) for what seemed like hours until the transaction was completed and I could make my escape.
So, I bought these lovelies even though they're not really my style, and I've been itching to sew all week. I found a pattern in an old quilting magazine that my mom gave me for a table runner that uses jelly roll strips, some of them cut into diamonds. The creator of the pattern wanted to also sell her nifty plastic diamond templates, but I just made my own. I cut out the paper template from the magazien and then traced it onto template plastic and cut that out. Then I taped the plastic template onto a small ruler:
That way, I could line up the template on the jelly roll strip and still have the ruler edge for cutting.
And with that, I was able to sew some lovely diamonds.
Triangles, and now diamonds? Next thing you know I'll be sewing curves and shit and strutting around like I'm all that instead of complaining about my lack of skill. But I'm sure I will still have plenty of time to bitch about my diabetes and how I almost DIED when I fell on the ice...