As a child, the only version of quilting in my head was huge quilts pulled taut on wooden quilting frames and secured with oversized, flat headed thumb tacks and C-clamps. I'd say I had a love hate relationship with those thumb tacks, except there was no love- just hate. Those things bruised your fingers trying to push them in and bloodied them trying to pry them out with your fingernails. Don't get me started about pushing enormous needles, threaded with yarn, through the three layers of material and batting and then back up again. If you love your thumbs- DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. Maybe it's just my flawed teenage memory, but I swear we tied quilts for every single youth activity from ages 12 to 18. So after I was of legal age to make my own decisions I declared to the world that I HATED quilting. I remained true to this manifesto well into my adult life. There were three separate tragedies that led me to change my mind. (I know- buzzkill - sorry.) Several years ago in Jul
It was a Sunday afternoon several years ago and the whole family was sitting around the dinner table when my mom randomly says, "I think I want to change my name to Stormy!" My immediate response was, "Because you want to be a stripper?" (No offense to anyone actually named Stormy! I actually love the name and have considered naming my daughter that if I ever had children.) I don't remember where she came up with that. She was a nurse, so she might have had a patient named Stormy or something. I guess she thought Stormy was a much more fun name than Her actual name, Kris! She was of course kidding and just being random and funny, but it stuck. My husband at the time (now ex, but still friends) started calling her Stormy and never called her Kris again! I still called her mom, but would refer to her as Stormy when talking about her. Sadly, and devastatingly she was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer and passed away January 3, 2012. This turned my world upsi