Wednesday, February 24, 2021

The Adventures of Repairing a Vintage Quilt

My grandmother left me with wonderful memories. She knew what little ones wanted and needed and never held back her love. She made animal pancakes for Sunday breakfast, even though she knew her youngest (me!) would slop syrup on her dress. I frequently walked down to the little church on the corner with a damp-on-one-side washcloth under the top of my dress, keeping the wet washed spot off my skin. She knew that baking pies must include making pie-crust cookies out of the leftover crust. And she knew that little children loved making houses for their dolls, so Ernie made some fences that could be used as walls for the houses and corrals for the livestock.

One of the wonderful things she left me was a beautiful quilt that was made of leftover fabrics from my sister's, cousin's and my prom dresses. Lovely satin fabrics that held our dreams together in those innocent early years of our lives. This gift gave me the start of my love of quilts. I would be heart broken if anything happened to my Gramma Quilt.

So when my friend told me that she had a wonderful soft, comfy quilt that her 97 year old auntie had made for her, I was so happy for her. What a treasure! And then she told me the story of one of their dogs.... She was in a ZOOM meeting when she turned around and saw this naughty pup take a huge bite out of the center of the quilt! Could I repair it? I hoped I could.

Until I saw the quilt, I didn't know what to expect. Had the dog shredded the fabric? Was the bite all the way down to the batting inside? And how on earth was I going to repair this comfy treasured Auntie quilt?


Boy howdy! It was a through-and-through! And I really didn't know how on earth I was going to repair this comfy treasured Auntie quilt! So it sat on a guest chair in it's bag for quite a few weeks until I finally asked around, got some advice, thought about it, and eventually jumped right in.

First thing I did was remove all the damaged blocks and some of the undamaged ones in order to square it out. I had to undo some of the hand-quilting in the process. I was cleaning up the lines, in a sense. 

Then I dug through my fabric scraps, looking for fabrics that were more vintage-looking in colors similar to the original quilt's colors

Before I started sewing, I had to write out the pattern of colors and whites so when I put the rows in the patch together, I would still get those beautiful "Round the World" lines. When it all seemed to work together, I sewed the rows together and set the patch aside. I had more howthehell work to do.

Okay, now how to repair the batting? After checking out the undamaged batting, I realized it was a different type of batting than I used. It was thinner and squishier and probably a higher polyester content than my cotton. I needed to take a trip to the fabric store to test out the batting available. Once the batting was purchased, I put a piece of paper under the doggy-hole and drew the batting hole. This way I could attach the right size of batting to patch up the hole.  I had to trim up the "dog-food" batting, cleaning up the lines.

Cutting the batting to the right size, a size that could overlap the edges, I hand sewed the batting patch onto the batting. 

Once the batting was completed, I could then applique the pieced patch over the doggy door on the front. I needed to applique the patch onto the front because I could not get a good open lip into the remaining edges. What I mean is, I could only get the patch to lay on top of the quilt rather than in between the edges. The applique went together quite easily. Having the correct sized squares (2.5" squares) helped make it an easy part of the project.

Remember that the puppy didn't stop with just the front and batting. That little imp went all the way through. Now I had to deal with the backing. The vintage fabric was a muslin that had beautifully aged to a soft yellowish-white. I tried to find a fabric that looked similar, but the choices were either too yellow or too white. I selected a muslin as close as I could, knowing it would show up against the original backing. Ya takes what ya gots, right? I also figured the new muslin would age as well.

After cleaning up the edges of the backing, I cut the new fabric larger than the doggy door backing, turned it under one fourth of an inch, and pinned it to the backing. I then appliqued the patch to the back.

Well, then I needed to quilt the repaired area. If I knew how to hand-quilt, it would have been a perfect skill to use in this situation. Alas, I have never learned. My cousin only quilts by hand. Her advice to me was that "you are the machine and your hand is head that is holding the needle." It sounded rather like a zen moment. But no, I did not become one with the machine. Instead I clumsily machine quilted it all together in a bit of a heavy-handed way. But it looked pretty good. Yay! 

My friend was happy and I learned a great deal. If you don't turn it over and see the not-yet-aged muslin in the back, you can hardly tell there had been a naughty pup in this beautiful quilt's past.

And so it goes
peace~~~

Thursday, February 11, 2021

Don't Let the Old Woman Out

 

I recently read an interview with James Brolin. He was the dreamy doctor on Dr. Welby, MD in 1969. He had recently turned 80 and was going strong. He said he looked in the mirror and realized he was older--wrinkles and crinkles and such--but remembered something Clint Eastwood (90) had once said, "Don't let the old man out." And Brolin decided to run with that.

I look in the mirror at age 70 and see the wrinkles and lost lips and crinkly eyes. When COVID hit, the government called my age group "elderly." That label was a shock to me and all in my high school friends! We spent many days on Facebook discussing and disagreeing with that label. My grandmother, when she was in her 80s, was asked over the phone if she was "elderly;" she answered, "Well, I'm not 90 yet."

We know this stuff. We know not to let the old woman out.

 
Today I had a ZOOM get together with my sister and cousin.  We laughed and laughed for over an hour. We were as young as we will ever be again. Laughing and frolicing. I know that I can't get up off the floor easily. I can't walk well nor fast because of some balance issues. I can't imagine hang gliding nor bungee jumping, like some of my older friends can.  But hey!

I can bake a great pie, make a terrific dinner, enjoy the snow falling around my house (I love snow, as a concept). I can happily sing with good volume, write an essay, make a quilt. I can do stuff that younger women can't because I don't care if I'm seen as silly or what. 'Cause I ain't gunna let the old woman out! While I can, I'm going to laugh and bring others giggles and snorts and be silly and act the fool--no differently than when I was 16 or 32 or 45. I'm going to try to live a happy long life. 

Years ago--when we were in our late 20s--a friend and I, while visiting his grandmother at a nursing home, heard over the loud speaker, " Mabel has escaped again. Please find her and bring her back to her room." We pictured Mabel racing out the open gate in her wheelchair, romping through the gated yards, and gleefully cherishing freedom with the wind flying through her hair. And right then and there, we decided that we were going to be the ones they will need to call for help to bring back. Frolicing through the hallways is always an option. I noticed that the people who smiled and connected with others in the nursing home where my mother lived her final four years of life seemed so much more satisfied with their lives than others. They weren't letting the old person out.  
 
So let's make a vow. Raise your right hand and repeat after me. "I will continue to play and frolic and laugh and laugh and laugh for as long as I am able."
We will not let the old woman out. 
And so it goes
peace~~~