It’s about the size of a bento box, which gives you an idea of the extent of my patience with this project. I have three sisters, all of whom are mad quilters, so meticulous and precise and exact that I have to leave the room when they start cutting fabric. I do love to embroider, though, and if I were running for Miss America and they asked me what I would do to make the world a better place, I’d say—teach our children, and our children’s children, how to make french dots. And I would win because no one else would think to cover our children’s children.
In case you’re interested, I drew the picture onto a piece of linen with one of those marvelous washable pens. After stitching over the lines, I sprayed the piece with water and presto!—the blue ink disappeared. I could try to explain how I made the rest of the quilt, but if you followed my instructions a real quilter would have to come to your house and deprogram you. And it would be intense. Your family would be there, saying stuff like: “Debbie (if that’s your name), we love you. We want you back. Just please set the rotary cutter down and stop rocking back and forth.”
p.s. See how the top right corner droops ever so slightly? That's the way I wanted it.