Turns out that the silver lining to catching an awful achy fever the last full weekend before the first of the two upcoming auctions is that I had no choice but to spend an entire day on the couch, binding the Auction Quilt. Binding the quilt & watching Wolf, Witches of Eastwick, the fourth Omen, & part of Sky High, ahem.
I was thinking, as much as you can think when you're sleepy, feverish, trying to keep your stitches even, & also half-watching an exciting wolfman wrestling match between Jack Nicholson & James Spader, about how much I always dread the time commitment that hand-binding a quilt brings with it, but how much I always fundamentally enjoy the process of wrapping a neat tight edge around a quilt with a gazillion snug little stitches. It gives me a sense of tidy closure, which lasts approximately until it's time to put the quilt in the machine & then I stand around anxiously for the entire wash cycle, wondering if my quilting & or binding & or basic idea for a quilt is going to hold together.
Look at me, waxing philosophical about this thing now that it's done.
Done! Hurrah! (Lots more detail pictures in my flickr set.)
Not that I have been all quilt all the time, lo these many silent weeks.
Or not just the ONE quilt This one is lap sized, destined for the second of the auctions. I have to finish binding it approximately immediately. Next year: two kids, one school, one auction, can't wait.
This little one is on the bind too, but has to wait until next week. When I'm totally going to feel like picking up a little quilt-binding project just to relax.
I mock, & yet...it's probably true.