So I see I haven't blogged since November 30th.
Of LAST year.
That's awesome.
This poses a perplexing conundrum of blogging possibilities....where to start reliving the past three months? Should I relive it at all or just carry on like the new year actually began on February 24th? I can't lie, as I write this, all I really want to do is don my favorite pair of lederhosen and belt out "Just start at the very beginning...!" in my best Julie Andrews-esque voice and skip and dance around the room. Admit it, you're singing it now, too. With that tune kicking around in your head, I think I will selectively relive my favorite moments and share them with you over a given amount of time. Hah! You see, this serves me well, since I am a lazy blogger at times, and this way, I can pretend (and give the illusion!) that I am on the ball with my blogging endeavors. Crafty, aren't I?
I am in Utah. I came down here on December 17th for my yearly fall pilgrimage and never left. I'm having too much fun and still have myriads of things on my TO DO list to cross off. I don't see myself going home anytime soon. And by soon, I mean anytime before April 2nd, when I go back to work. Both the cats and Keith are back home, utilizing and enjoying (worshipping?) every square inch of the blessed 55" flat screen that has taken over our lives, without the added annoyance of me bustling about reminding them about such trivial things as cleaning out the litter box and taking out the trash. This leaves me almost guilt free to parade around the Wasatch Front's offering of quilt shops and varied other locations that, let's be honest, Keith would find boring. Life is good that way.
I loaded myself, my sewing machine, a boxful of fabrics and my car on the ferry December 12th. It took four days for me to get to Bellingham, WA. I carted my sewing machine and various projects up to my stateroom and kept busy on the high seas. I'd like to give a big shout out to the three presumably single drunk guys in the room across the hall from me who had the forethought to haul a giant flat screen TV and a PlayStation up to their stateroom and proceed to shout and yell through all levels of Grand Theft Auto for the entire four days. Really, I didn't mind. Not even at three in the morning, when you were crushing beer cans against what I can only hope was your forehead, not necessarily knocking any sense into you, but at the very least, I hope you enjoyed yourselves. Because I know everyone in all the surrounding rooms had a blast. Good times.
I was lucky enough to have quilting friends traveling on the same ferry, so we made like busy little bees and were quite productive. I made four Christmas stockings for my friend Andrea in Utah. I used a jellyroll and yardage from the Candyland Christmas line that Moda had a few years back. It's a fun collection of retro-inspired santas, reindeer and ornaments.
Most of our stops in seaside ports were in the middle of the night, so we didn't venture out. But we were lucky enough to stop in Sitka in the middle of the day. And even luckier to have a friend who lives in Sitka who met us at the ferry terminal and showed us the sights, which included the local quilt shop and her house with the very awesome quilting studio. We took the tour. And drooled.
Abby's Reflection is a cute little shop in downtown Sitka that's stuffed full of an assortment of fun fabrics and projects. You have your usual Alaskan themed prints, but then there's a bevy of fresh and fun new lines just begging to be touched and worked into a new project somehow. And the gals that work there are friendly and helpful, which is always a plus. It felt like a social hang out, which is how every quilt shop should be.
After we pillaged through Abby's Reflection, where I found some fun black civil war prints that I've been looking for, and the perfect red sashing fabric for my Rural Jardin dresden plates, Jane took us to her house to see what she was working on in her studio. Jane lives in a beautiful wooded area with snow piling on pine boughs and a fantastic smell that's a euphoric mix of pine and ocean. Her studio is a large room above the garage, complete with it's own bathroom. You could live in there. She had a lot of fun projects ranging from completed quilts hanging on the wall for display, to works in progress, all of which we touched and ooh and aahed over. It was the perfect way to spend a few hours in Sitka. Nothing beats the mix of quilting and excellent friends.
When I got into Bellingham, the weather was sunny and my spirits were as high as the guys' across the hall from me. Of course, mine weren't chemically induced, but hey, who am I to judge? All I had left was a fourteen hour drive to Utah County and I was thrilled to be on dry land. Unfortunately, that was not the case for my Jeep, which somewhere along the coast between Alaska and Washington, decided to spring an antifreeze leak. I blame Canada. I took it into a shop in Bellingham, and eight hours later, I was sporting a shiny new timing belt, water pump and a much smaller bank account. Apparently, the antifreeze leak was just the beginning. I was so distraught, I couldn't even put the pedal to the metal like normal when I finally made it out of Seattle that night and got pulled over for driving too slow. Too slow! Granted, it was incredibly foggy, combined with the fact that I was not familiar with the area, the roads, the crazy truck drivers who confuse their semis for itty bitty sports cars.
Me: Evening, Officer.
Officer Smiley: Evening. Whatcha drinking tonight?
Me: Water. Diet Pepsi. Not together.
Officer Smiley: Ah. A funny one.
Me: What's the problem, Officer?
Officer Smiley: Well, you crossed over the white fog lines twice in the past mile. And you're driving considerably below the posted speed limit.
Me: Yes, I understand I'm driving slow. It's very foggy outside and I can't see the road. So I'm following the white FOG lines to see where I'm going.
Officer Smiley: Where are you going?
Me: Utah
Officer Smiley: I think you should call it a night. Get a hotel.
And from here, it didn't progress very well. I was anxious to get to Utah and knew the fog was a short-lived annoyance that would disappear as soon as I got over the Snoqualmie Pass. I wasn't aware an officer could suggest (or uphold) that I call it a night and bunker down in a hotel of his choosing. (He suggested the Quality Inn. "It's very respectable". And it was.) And I had just enough pent-up cabin fever from four days on the water, and was just frustrated enough from an unscheduled day spent in a service shop, that I misjudged his appreciation of well-placed sarcasm and decided to thank him and get back on the road. This was not my best choice, and suffice it to say, I spent the night in the Quality Inn. Miraculously, although he clearly didn't appreciate my safe driving along the fog line at a much slower speed than posted, I escaped with just a very firm warning and no ticket. And for anyone who knows me, the irony of being pulled over for driving too slow is the best part of this entire ordeal. Well that, and the Belgium waffles at the Quality Inn. I'm easily swayed by good waffles.
