I love the way stories get built, with one layer – say… a girl and the little drama of her life – constructed under the other – the stories of those around her. Why does the old lady come to the door? Why does the cock crow at midnight? Every character careful to express their own desires. Quilting is no easier. Just take as many imagined fragments of life as possible and skillfully combine into a thing of beauty. Some might object that that’s too easy a dismissal of quilting, but …. ah crap…. I’m just rambling to avoid talking about things.
I’m not thinking about them. I’m being resolute. I’m ignoring every impending thing and breathing to my gut and being sure that I’m as unsteady and unready as I could be. It’s kind of fun.
Oh, actually, it’s thrilling.
The last 48 hours of the campaign has got me so… interested. I am rapt. I am… thrilled, that word again. I’m scared. Come on! This is exciting. This is what doing things feels like. So many people have jumped to and shipped ho to bring us to this point and we’re close. We’re very close. I just want to be there. I want to breathe again without reminder. Just ignore it. That time-clock.