Quilts. There've been a couple of them around here. This one (oh how I still love that one) and this one and this one. This dog just cracks me up so bad. I can't count how many times a day stuff like this happens around here without documentation. The skeptical eyeball. What is that. It's honestly impossible for me to even believe how hot it was here. That didn't happen. There's no possible way it was 107. That must have been some other Portland, Oregon.
In my mind, this new quilt keeps being called the Swedish Summer Quilt. It feels like that to me. This is a mini version of a bigger one I am also going to make with the same-ish patches. This one here is for a friend. I'll tell you more about it after I give it away.
We use our quilts a lot. They're on every bed, folded on top of every cabinet, scattered on floors. None are precious. All are walked on, drooled on, slept under, and frequently barfed on (as in, when the dog drinks an entire bowl of water and then runs full tilt directly onto the bed [in which you are probably still sleeping] and barfs on it. Then it is washed in hot water and dried vigorously with hot air). We have a few outside-only ones that we keep in the car, for picnics and beaches and woods and parks. I like to think that quilts are one of the things I bring to a friendship. As in, "You bring the volleyball, I'll bring the quilts." We need another heavy one that can stay permanently on the hammock, since this red-and-blue one (thrifted for $12) doesn't really belong there (goes in the car), but the new feather bed (the awesome old one got ruined by being left in the rain one too many times) is too lightweight and flops around. The blue-and-green cheater quilt (also thrifted) seems to have completely disappeared this year. Can't find it anywhere. And it seems that this one and this one that I made back in college have finally bitten the dust and are completely falling apart this year. (Interestingly, I see that every time I take a picture of a quilt there is a dog laying on it. . . . Perhaps this is part of the "problem.") Instead of regret, the shredded seams inspired a sort of thinly veiled jubilation: I will make more! [dances quiltish jig]. Actually, Andy says he wants to make the outside one. Apparently all members of this family are total hedonists when it comes to sitting comfortably. Future baby already has three (plus three crocheted blankets), waiting for her. This morning I sat on the chilly porch at about 6:30 a.m. (I have to get out there early if I want any peace and quiet before the hammering starts), wrapped in Bridget's Grannies (which I finally blocked yesterday). The afghan is the perfect porch-sitting size. I thought about what size to make Swedish Summer II, which will really just be for me.
I still haven't decided. This little one I am quilting by hand and my fingers are about to fall off.