crafting a fine pile of anxiety
Oh, yeah, I remember this process.
In fear of overthinking the fabric, I grab all solids from my stash, and, from JoAnn, I literally buy a stack of solid fat quarters that happen to be in front of me — no comparing, sorting, looking for others.
In fear of overthinking the pattern, I hastily come up with something that might work. I miscalculate with my non-math brain, which leads to problems early on.
I sew, screw up, sew some more. More screwing up. More sewing.
What was I thinking with the lavender? Is this pattern too wonky, or not wonky enough?
I am mad at that beige fabric, too thin and hard to sew. Your quilt is only as strong as the weakest fabric, and that fabric is weak. Boo. But I continue to sew, I listen to the radio, I pace, then I sew.
This is only the first doubt-filled leg of the journey. Wait till I get to the pinning. And the quilting! And the binding. Seriously, until the last thread is clipped, the world just may spin off its axis.