January 25, 2004
I used to be a quilter.
It's not quilting I dislike, but the obstacles to quilting. Maybe you're imagining Betsy Ross in a corner rocker stitching together scraps of fabric, but that's not quilting in 2004. There are 3'-by-4' acrylic cutting mats and razor sharp wheels for slicing fabric strips. There are sewing machines that cost more than your first car and a mystifying technique that goes by the intimidating name of "stack and whack".
The limiting factor, (besides the insane amount of money it takes to keep up on these things), is space. The underside of my bookshelf houses two large tubs of fabric, in addition to the other two supply boxes in the basement.
Contrary to what Eleanor Burns thinks, quilts take more than a day. But it turns out that your family can't do without the kitchen table for weeks on end. And if you leave the project on the coffee table you'd better make sure that the pattern calls for coffee rings and crusted cereal embellishments. My friends have sewing rooms and tables dedicated to their craft; I can barely get a table dedicated to dinner or a desk that doesn't succumb to the clutter of 23 magazine subscriptions.
I've been summoned by the allure of knitting. Two needles and a ball of yarn... how much more simple can you get? No gridded rulers, freezer paper, or 1/4 inch masking tape. And at the very least, when the apocalypse hits, everyone will want me in their tribe. After all, I can make clothing out of string.