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the fabric pull Kirk/Curt really likes
To say my life is a little chaotic right now is to become the poster child for understatement.
I haven’t picked up cloth and thread in about a year and seriously wondered if I ever would again. Then in the middle of yet another insomnia-filled night, an idea: I need straight lines. So today, while The Engineer headed to the DIY home improvement store, I browsed the quilt store, and because you’ve never seen how fast The Engineer can move through Lowe’s when I’m at the fabric store, I snatched – and I do mean snatched – bolts off the shelves if they made my heart sing. That was my only criteria. My. heart had to SING, y’all, cause I have no earthly idea what I’m going to make with this fabric, only that I am going to cut it in straight lines, step one.
As he was cutting, Kirk/Curt(?) – a man I’ve never seen before – kept saying “This is my favorite. No, this one if my favorite.” and so on. When everything was cut, he said he’d made a list of the fabrics I selected, then he came around the counter and snapped a couple of photos. “These are beautiful fabrics that are even more beautiful together,” he said, “and I don’t use the word ‘beautiful’ ever.” (For the record, I’ve never been complimented for my fabric pulls or my sense of color.) He took my money, then gave me his card making me promise to either bring in the finished quilt or at least email him a photo, something I promised faithfully I’d do . . . if he still works there 14 years from now when I get it finished.
His kind, encouraging words were so incredibly appreciated today, y’all, which just goes to show that you never know whose day you will brighten and steer back on the path of hope and promise with a few well, chosen, heartfelt words of praise. What say we make a pact to sow a daily kind, uplifting word garden to folks we know and folks we may never see again? Can’t hurt, might help,doesn’t cost a thing, and you just never know the powerful gift your words might deliver to someone at just the right time.
the audio version, read by Jeanne herself
here ‘n there