|my first sewing machine|
In high school I learned how to make clothes for real people (my first project was a pink gingham sleeveless blouse, which I marked with a dark navy blue pencil . . . I was a disaster at real people clothes) and I took a fiber arts class, which I absolutely loved. My final fiber arts project was a hooked rug. My mother helped me design a rather modern looking garden using dinner plates and bowls as patterns for round flowers. I chose a palette of pinks, magentas, and greens. Everything was lovely. Until the night before the rug was due. My mother was out of town visiting my grandmother. I came downstairs crying because I wasn't finished and yes I had been working on it but now it was midnight or something and I couldn't get it done and I didn't want to get in trouble . . . That was when I taught my father how to hook rugs. It was his first and last rug hooking project. Mine too. That was the first time I didn't meet a deadline (or finish my homework on time). Unfortunately it wasn't the last.
Despite the rug-hooking incident, I loved all textile-related crafts. I cross-stitched, embroidered, needlepointed, creweled, and crocheted (the hideous bonnet I made when my sister was born is still mentioned periodically). But nothing stuck until I learned how to quilt.