The Infamous Blue Jean Quilt

I am going to vacuum.......Roomba!  Then, I am going to clean the bathrooms.  Is there a BathroomBot for that yet?  I should invent it.

Then I will sew!

We went 1 mile with the Bad Basset Boyz; it is too hot for them to do much more than that.  But I am slowly talking myself into doing another mile sans dogs.  Since I will be sewing all day.

(Update:  I did go and walk 1.2 miles just now.)

Well, not really all day, I have some banking to do that necessitates two banks and a notary.   All that takes so much time to do.  Sigh.

Like  sitting here writing my blog!  LOL. 

Do you remember this quilt?  It is HUUUUGE! as The Donald says.  I have been thinking that I needed to cut it down into two more manageable quilts.

the quilt has a really funny story attached to it.

Frank wears dockers every day when he leaves for work.  They are comfortable, relatively cheap when he tears them climbing on compressors or gets grease on then looking inside turbines.

I was looking for some darker pieces to put in it.  One day he came to me with a pair of his dark blue dockers.  He is holding them lovingly draped over his arms as if he is carrying a sick child.

Is there anything you can do with these? he asks with a wistful look in his eyes.

I couldn't believe my good fortune!  Dark blue docker material, just what I needed for this quilt!  He was such an amazing husband, willing to give up his used pants to my cause.  I don't know of any other husband with such a giving heart!  I felt so in love at that moment.

Yes!  I say, I sure can do something with these babies!

I take them from his hands and he shows me the ragged edge of the pocket, and says, I love these pants.

I look at him quizzically, but rush into my quilt room and proceed to cut them up.  I carefully lay out my pieces and sew them together.  You can see the 3 sections ready to be  attached in the photo.  I was so excited.

When it was all together, I laid it out on the kitchen floor.  Excitedly, I called Frank in to see.

With a flourish of my arms, Ta Da! I show him my marvelous creation.

He looks at it, like he looks at all my quilts, with passing interest he knows he must have because he is married to a quilter.

I say, quite triumphantly, see what a difference your pants made  in this whole thing?

There is silence.

I point to the dark pieces in the quilt.  You see, I say, they are here-here-and here.  I look at him expectantly.

There is silence.

Then he says, you did WHAT to my pants?  You cut them up?

Well, I stutter.  You asked me if I could do anything with them?

He says, yes, I asked if  you could do anything to FIX them.

We have always had communication problems in our marriage.