Progress on the Y2K Quilt reproduction

Difference in value

Last night I placed the border on the Y2KQ repro.  (Thanks to Anita Grossman Solomon for kindly providing the fabric!!! and to my longtime quilting buddy, Judy in Ohio, who met up with Anita at the Cincinnati quilt show and sent the fabric onward to Iowa!  You ladies are gems!)


If you remember, the repro is done with 1.25 inch squares, using a 1/8 inch seam on my vintage Singer 15-91.  The final quilt will be 40"x60" plus the border width. This is considerably (I do not exaggerate) smaller than the original which is a huge queen size.


As you can see there is considerable difference in value between the replacement border fabric and the original, so I felt the black inner border might blend too well with the new "2000" fabric.

Border on the repro...will bind in black

Instead I used a rather neutral fabric from my "recycled shirt" stash.  I admit, I put a few shirt squares in the quilt, too, wherever I could fit them in.  I just cannot get away from my shirt addiction. lol


I plan to baste today, hopefully. I had chemo yesterday and still have some extra energy from the steroid they infuse with the chemo.  If so, I will begin handquilting.

The original Y2KQ border

I debated hand quilting vs machine quilting (mine or professional) and decided on HQ.  Many days I do not have the gumption to sit at my machine. Secondly, I worried that MQ might not set off the quilt as well as "quiet hand quilting" might do.  Thirdly, on my more tired days I can still sit in the recliner and hand quilt. Fourthly, the original is hand quilted.


I think a black binding will be the best.


So what have YOU been doing for creative recreation?

Tell Me if I'm Making Much To-Do About Nothing

So why isn't this  in the news?
Why isn't it on the front page of the major news agencies?
Too lurid for the timid American heart?
Too ghastly for those of tender spirit?
Too "real" for those who don't want to see reality?

No, the reason this isn't on front-page America is because people go along with what was happening here.  They think "the ends justify the means"...whatever "ends" and "means" happen to mean to them.

If this were happening in some veterinary's surgical room, there would be screaming to high heaven (if anyone believes in heaven anymore).  If some veterinary had made him/herself a millionaire by doing this to so many cats/dogs/horses/cows the vet would be in prison faster than you can blink an eye. And there would have been oh-too-late offers to "adopt" all those kittens/puppies/foals/calves and offer homes where they could live happily ever after.

But the Philadelphia story?  Nah!  We're speaking only of humans here.  Of what importance are thousands (true figure unknown but surely much more than tens of thousands) of babies who were never allowed to enjoy what Thomas Jefferson called their "unalienable Rights".

If you haven't read about this yourself, click on the link in my first line and read what Melinda Henneberger has to say in today's Washington Post.  If you are not appalled, you might consider asking God why this does not cause your heart pain and sorrow.  We should all be sorrowing for these lives lost in such horrific, premeditated, evil manner.

And if you think this is "much to-do about nothing", read the Grand Jury report here.  Go ahead! Read it, and see if I exaggerate.

Whatever you do, don't bury your head in the sand.
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God help us.

Funny Thing How Two Words.....

Funny thing how two words that mean the same thing can mean different things to different people.

Infanticide ....

Abortion ....

They mean the same thing, you know!  Killing a human infant in its early life, whether that be in the mother's womb or out of the womb.  The result for each is the same...a dead human being.

How simple is that?

(For those who have experienced abortion, please know that God provides forgiveness and comfort, but only if you bow before him and acknowledge you have sinned.)

Every Time I Go to the Post Office I Remember.....

It's been four years and three months since I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, stage III-C.

That first year my slow recovery from debulking surgery (major surgery!) followed by six months of chemotherapy just about put me under.  I was weaker than a newborn kitten for such a long time and recovery was slow.  Each time I made a trip to the post office I had to climb 8 steps and then, returning to the car, climb down those same 8 steps.  I carefully placed my hands on the handrail to steady myself for fear I might take a tumble. I stepped carefully and purposely.

Nowadays, even while undergoing yet more chemo, I walk up and down those steps with ease. I seldom use the rail. Frankly, I'm amazed.

But, still, every time I go to the Post Office I remember that weakness. And it humbles me that I am doing so well, all things considered.

I firmly believe that all my days are numbered, that God holds me firmly in His hands, that nothing happens to me that is outside of His providence (His provision) for my life.  He has set me in a time and place where medical care is available and I diligently cooperate with my primary doc, my oncologist and a naturopathic doctor in trying to stay as healthy as possible.  I am grateful for this time and place.

I thank God daily for each new day.
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