Fabric daze...

I dropped my car off at the mechanic on Thursday afternoon to have him check out a "cluck" in the front end (worse than a click, but not as horrible as a clunk, but not a chicken, either -- it turned out to be a loose bolt, yay). It was a chilly but very sunny day, and I opted to make the three-mile walk home instead of hopping the El and call it my exercise for the week. Subconsciously I knew there was a quilt shop along the way. Sure, I could have taken a different route, but what's the harm in just stopping in? Right?

You know how it starts:  at first, you're just looking, running your hand across the shelf of new Amy Butler prints. Then you see something on one side of the store that catches your eye and might match something on the other side of the store -- and before you know it, you have twelve bolts stacked on the cutting table and you're mixing and matching and taking some away and putting others back, and the other customers ooh and ahh and tell you that pink is too loud but this one over here might work better and the clerk tosses a couple fat quarters down that bring out the purple in that flower print...and the next thing you know, you're walking out the door with a bag of tissue-wrapped fabric and you really have no idea how that happened.

Well, that's what it seems like, anyway.

To rationalize my purchase, I started cutting into them as soon as I got home. And today I have Kaffe and Kona pieces scattered across my kitchen floor.

Better get back to them before the cat does.