Tuesday, September 28, 2010

A ham? For me?

I am such a sucker for a gift. I just always feel so amazed whenever somebody gives me something, and I tend to go a little overboard in my reactions. It's not like I was deprived as a child or anything. But something about it always makes me cry and get all sentimental, and then I have to spend weeks proving that I'm not really like that all the time.

This weekend I got a big box in the mail with the name of one of my QH editors on the return address, and I thought maybe I was getting some comp issues of the latest magazine. But when I opened the box, I found these:




Three fat quarter bundles, and a little note that read, "Because we love you! Melissa and Jake."

I mean I'm nuts enough that I would get weepy if somebody gave me, I don't know, a ham or a slide ruler. But fabric? This much fabric? The children were concerned, and David said, "What? Is there something wrong with it?"

So of course, I emailed them a long, gushy note with lots of "you've done so much for me" and "I'll never be able to thank you enough," and they were all, "Dude. Shut up. It's fabric." But that's okay. Because it's important for the people I work with and for to know that I am mentally and emotionally defective. It will give them a head start in fending me off when I try to come after them with homemade cakes and pot pies.

In other news, I finished George's backing, but somehow took both it and my design wall down before I photographed it, and I am way too lazy to put it all back up. I finished the Kindle cover my friend commissioned for her sister's birthday, but managed to fuck up the placement of the button. Because the stitching for the button is hidden between layers, I had to cut it off and sew it back on through the layers, leaving a big knot of stitches now exposed on the inside cover. I'm going to try to cover it up with applique, maybe a heart, but remember the last time I tried to cover up a mistake with some applique?




It was not good. So maybe I should just save us all the anguish and start over.