That’s what Quilt Sandwich day looks like at my house. A crime scene. I reserve an entire day to do it, and sometimes, I run from the room screaming! Occasionaly blood is spilled. If doctors wanted to get a true stress test measurement, they would have you make a quilt sandwich.
All the cute videos on YouTube will never accurately depict what really happens when assembling a quilt sandwich.
This is not the biggest quilt I have done, but it is 75″ by 75″ and I have 12′ square of heavy plastic that I lay down to protect . . . um, what am I protecting? The floor from the quilt? Or the quilt from the floor. I don’t know, but it seems like the right thing to do. Oh yeah, I spray baste, which some say is a crime by itself, . . . and I pin. If I gotta wrestle this thing through the throat of a domestic machine, I need all the help I can get.
Starting with Hubby getting out of the house. As soon as I roll the rug up over the bed, and lay down the plastic in the only remaining space, which happens to be in front of the door, he will have to come in. Like magic, or a cat when you get up from your chair. Except, the cat knows something life changing is going to happen when I lay that plastic down, and she is smart enough to disappear for the day.
So, here I will show you the horrors from within . . .
Here I have laid down the back, pretty side down, smoothed it flat, then the batting, smoothed it flat, took a break, then laid down the top, and smoothed it flat. Seems inoccent enough, but something may be lurking under the layers, like wrinkles!
Then I get out my giant stick [cardboard tube], and pin the edge to it, keeping the pins at a flat angle, because this will be tightly wrapped . . . . unlike myself.
Now, I roll, keeping both sides straight and even, keeping the fabric ahead of the roll smooth before I get to it, so it can’t get away from me, and put a wrinkle in my plans.
When that is done, I carefully lift the roll, and repeat with the batting.
This is where I sometimes find a wrinkle hiding, and wipe beads of sweat, like someone who has narrowly escaped a tragic accident.
After a coffee break to get the taste of copper out of my mouth, I place the roll at the top, unroll about 18″ or so, then pull it back to spray the fabric, while commanding it to “Stay put” and smacking it down flat. They say use the spray sparingly, but they aren’t paying for it. I am, so . . .
Once the first 18″ are stuck down, I kneel on the batting behind the roll, and then spray, unroll, stroking every inch of it heavily, unroll, spray, repeat. Next is the top.
Position, spray, unroll, more petting, unroll, spray, repeat.
Then I pin in spots where I think I will not be sewing. Of course if I was thinking, I probably wouldn’t be doing this. Yes, I would. I’m stubborn that way.
About 1000 pins, and a couple of band aids later, I roll it acording to how I will sew, . . . I mean stuff . . . it through the throat of the beast. I am a ditch stitcher, so I will be sewing this in agony, I mean diagonally, because the blocks are all on point. Of course they are. Who do I think I am? Doing a quilt on point. As if!
The corners do not have seems, so I mark them before I carry the body out to the sewing machine. It’s disappearing ink, so if I need a break, I have to take it before I make my mark! Yep, bathroom visit, several bobbins filled, more coffee, stitch settings correct after the bobbins, another bathroom break . . . . Out of my way, I’m going in!
The next few scenes are just too horrific to show, . . . my hands hurt, my legs are cramping, neck is stuck in an unnatural position, and I can’t see straight anymore, but I won!