After several thousand miles of flying logged by the seat of my pants, I finally (finally!) took a quilting class this weekend.

I was afraid I was going to be surrounded by disapproving, anal retentive, Thanksgiving-themed sweater-wearing biddies. I am very sorry I just said that.

And on the whole it wasn’t true.

This teacher was great. Isn’t it nice to get taught well, every once in a while? She was so thoughtful, took an interest in each of us, and tailored the class, on the spot, to our interests and needs. We spent a few minutes examining, feeling, breaking different kinds of threads — threads! So many! And I was using the wrong kind! It turns out I was kind of doing everything else wrong, too. Very freeing! AND! I was introduced to a very clever gadget that will ensure I will never have to get stabbed by those mean, horrible, quilting pins ever again.

The passion was evident in the room. After a demonstration at a machine, our teacher Carole declared, almost to herself: “I love quilting!”

Now, yes, it’s true, quilting is a hobby and a form of creative expression for me. But, a warning: if you have a quilt gag gift or a sad-spinster MOMA tote bag (with a picture of a quilt on it) or a bag of fabric scraps, please think twice before gifting me with any of them. (but I’ll probably take the scraps if they’re 100% cotton)