Keeping It Real: Preparation for the Quilt Guild Show


Oh, those loving hands at home! Not only can you see the product of loving hands, right now, in the North Country, you can actually HEAR the loving hands—the chugging sound of an old Singer Featherweight, the whir of a high-powered long-arm quilting machine, the snip of scissors.

The soft curses under the breath. Well . . . maybe that’s just me.

You see, tomorrow is the day when the quilts get hung for our local guild’s biennial show. Some 400 quilts will be dropped off and hoisted onto racks.

And that means a whole lot of quilters are working frantically today, to finish those quilts.

We all like to show off our finished products and, as bloggers know, we love to show pretty pictures of pristine projects, perfectly finished.

But in the spirit of keeping it real, most crafters would need to admit that, though we do what we do for love, we still procrastinate in doing it. Why? Because we still believe that we work best under pressure, just as we did when we were in junior high, trying to finish that book report on Catcher in the Rye.

So, I’m keeping it honest here and admitting that I spent the last several hours of my life, hours I will never have back again, removing cat hair from the quilts I will enter into this show.

My fellow quilters are finishing sewing on the binding and are making pretty labels for their quilts. Some will sit in their cars tomorrow, at the show locale, and put in the last stitches before, triumphant, they bring the quilt inside.

Me? I used up an acre of extra-sticky lint roller tape. (Who invented lint rollers? Where is their Nobel prize?!)


I had to do the front and back of each quilt because quilters love to look at the backs of other people’s quilts.


Who puts black fabric on the back of a quilt that resides in a multi-cat home?

Hey! You! Get off of my quilt!

Hey! You! Get off of my quilt!

Right this second, my quilts look as good as they ever have. They are secured in plastic bags and will be put in a cat-free zone until morning, assuming there is such a place in this house!

We’ll all finish our final tweaks and cut the last stray threads. And, come Saturday morning, the doors will open on an Adirondack-themed wonderland of creativity and the efforts of loving hands.

Everything will look perfect and the sounds of sewing machine and scissors (and swearing, but that’s just me) will be replaced by oohs and ahhs of admiration and compliments for the work on display.

I wish you could be there!