I figure if the Betty White show can use the phrase asshats, so can I.
My mom and I are currently using up a whole bunch of scraps that my cousin Diana gave us. TONS of really interesting fabrics, like one with this parrot on it. I don’t know why this fabric was orginally bought but I will be doing random wall hangings with gaudy ugly parrots on it, just because I have the fabric, damnit.
But as we were quilting this afternoon, I realized we were gossiping. About work, about my aunts, about my family. Many of whom she saw yesterday at a funeral.
We spoke about my Aunt Pauline, who now has a long arm quilting machine, who is determined that that is the -only- way a quilt should be quilted. When mom and I are traditional. We do the quilting by hand.
But in sheer opposites to the snarkies of my SCA friends, she believed that quilting on the machine was it, and hand done was some how less.
Now. I am the opposite, I am fond of machine quilting think it’s fantastic. BUT for a true quilt, one that I make myself for my own use, by damned i may piece that thing on the machine, but the quilting will be done by hand. I love the “home made” look of it. Any one can go to JCPennys and buy a quilt there. But it takes love and pride to hand do a quilt. Darnit.
There is a sense of pride in it. I am sure many on Etsy.com would agree, okay maybe they wouldn’t.
We then gossiped a bit about Richard, my late husband, who left me for my best friend, and how it’s from him that my anxiety is first and foremost. I lived for 5 years with his constant threat of “if this isn’t this way then I will take Rachel from you and you’ll never see her again”. Holy fucking toast. I cannot explain how many times I’ve had that ball of fear in my stomach that made me think I was going to throw up because something wasn’t perfect.
She got an F in science, god he’s going to take her from me.
She skinned her knee’s, god he’s going to take her from me.
She fell off her bike, god…you see the pattern here right?
It’s sick and disgusting how this can get into your head.
I honestly know I need to see a DR about this, and figure out if it is chemical in my head that’s making me freak the hell out. Or, it’s just irrational fears. Either way.
But that’s the stuff we were gossiping about.
I admit we were snarky. I won’t put the thoughts here. Cause..well one of them might read it some day, (I doubt it, I am the evil she bitch who doesn’t know shit), but it could happen, and I would rather not have that particular family drama at someones funeral.
I am constantly in fear of that as well. My family will hate me. Oh I know they do. It’s that obvious. We sent beautiful presents to many peoples weddings. I didn’t even get a card that said “Hey well done you aren’t living in sin any more”. Gods. There goes the “I wanna throw up” feelings again.