Every once in a while, something lights a spark within my bosom and the flame of womanly craftsmanship sets my soul ablaze. Recently, I quenched this flame by producing a quilt of exquisite exquisiteness. This blog posting will attempt to chronicle the extensive and laborious process which finally culminated in an object of exceptional warmth and everlasting joy.
Meticulous planning is the first step. Only a complete imbecile would try to put a quilt together without multiple drafts and 4-dimen-sional computer models. This particular quilt required the invention of three new geometric theorems: Parallel Isolinear Convergence, Fractal Polyhedral Cohesion, and the Ultimate Law of Twos.
Next, the Creator of the Quilt must choose the colors. Each color must have signifi-cance. In this case: green for the envy of my peers, yellow for putrescence, blue for Asian antiquity, and pink for sensuality.
Initial designs for the individual squares called for elaborate fabric kitty cats. This plan was forsaken when I came to the realization that I hate cats with every fiber of my being and to stitch their image into my daughter's quilt would only glorify that which I vehemently despise.
Each length of fabric must be painstaking-ly cut into even strips. You'll notice that purple was added to the spectrum. This color was added to symbolize the evil that began to creep slowly into my heart during this stage of production.
Separate squares are constructed from the strips of fabric. The preliminary blueprints called for somewhere between 16 and 47,000 individual squares. A mixture of baking soda, lye, and beaver musk was used to wash away the bloody stains which saturated the squares as the flesh of my fingers began to crumble under the strain.
Oh, the irony! After the squares are assembled you do not have a quilt, but merely another series of maddening fabric strips which must once again be wrestled and arranged and attached to one another. I began to hallucinate and imagine that my own skin was a patchwork-conglomeration of iguana hide, balsa wood, and chocolate ship cookie dough.
So close. So very very close. What began as an impas-sioned, spiritual beckoning to the alter of hearth and home now draws to an end with the bitter stench of domestic despair and the wrenching of carpal tendons. Will the horror never cease??
And here's Sam with her quilt. Looks nice, eh?