the fabric of my .... closet

My dear sweet mother has (and her mother had) some sort of crazy addiction to fabric.  When I was little I absolutely hated going to fabric stores.  I would have rather vacuumed the entire house... twice...than go to the fabric store with them.  I hated the smell, I hated standing up that whole time, and I absolutely hated all of the dress patterns my Granny tried to tell me were "perfect" for a young lady such as me.  Um, no thanks (I still hardly EVER wear dresses).  I could never picture the fabrics in their hands, cut and stitched into the patterns at which they pointed while nodding their heads hoping to convince me.

I think Granny thought she could get me to sway toward her opinion by scrunching up one side of her mouth showing she was severely disappointed in my choices.  Mom would just sigh and shake her head (which she still does by the way - love you, mom!) and realize once again she needed to find a great pattern for sweat pants and shorts.  I think the challenge for her was trying to find patterns that somehow looked different from the previous sets of shorts and sweat pants she made for me.

I have two sisters.  I am the youngest... all of you oldest siblings who might be reading this can stop raising your eyebrows and making that "mmmhmmm" sound.  Yes, I was spoiled and given free reign.  Yes, I am the favorite.  (giggling - I'm totally not the favorite but I'm in the top 33%!)

The older two really got into sewing with Granny and with mom.  I just ... didn't.  Now that we are adults, the oldest is more into crafting than she is sewing so her closet is jam packed with all kinds of paper and groovy little embellishments and RIBBON ... oh my Lord the girl has ribbon.  When the middle sister and I are at mom's we can't help but "assist" mom in purging her fabric closets.  Yes, that's plural.  Closets.

I used to shake my head and think, "there is NO WAY I would let my closets fill up with that much stuff that I will never use!"  (notice I inherited the shaking of the head from my mother)

Never use the word never, because it always comes back to bite you.

When I started sewing this summer I bought a few bins and silently created a secret handshake with myself that I wouldn't buy any fabric that didn't fit in those bins.  Then I bought more bins and changed my organization methods because clearly I did it wrong the first time since it wouldn't all fit.  (if I went to counseling I'm sure I would be enlightened with some fancy word that describes my evasion techniques here)

When those bins filled up....  well, now I have 9.  BUT ... 5 of them are filled with all the supplies I need for clients.  "Sam's" quilt stuff is in bin 1.  "Luke's" in bin 2. "Max's" in bin 3, and so on.  One is for fabric scraps because I want to be like my friend Stacey and create granny squares with my scraps ... someday.  I also have lots of cute baby fabrics for the blankets and burp cloths I will create to sell... well, when I don't have 12 quilts lined up for clients.  One is just projects I need to complete by Christmas.

And today I .... well... I ordered more fabric.

(hanging my head in shame)

 I KNOW! (sighing and shaking my head)  I know.  It's crazy and ridiculous but I have projects in my head that I want to do with each of the bundles I purchased.  Just like my mother.  It's the creative curse.  Too many ideas, not nearly enough time!

If I pass away prematurely, I would like to apologize to my middle sister because she will open my closet door after I'm gone and say, "SERIOUSLY?!?!?!" --- and for the record, her disappointed/irritated stare is much more threatening than Granny's half-grimace ever was!

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