My mother belonged to the "blind man on a galloping horse concept". She was a wonderful, wonderful person who was loved by everyone including me. Her mother didn't sew, so she took it up as a necessity as we were poor as church mice. THEN, I got to Home Ec (remember when it was called that) and my dear teacher, whom I LATER learned to respect, whacked me across the hand with a yardstick (remember when they could do that) because I was cutting out a dress on the wrong side of side of the black line. Was trying for the middle and splitting the difference and that was a no-no. I nearly died of mortification as I graduated eighth grade from a small rural school and was in a big school system and I didn't know anyone except my three rural classmates who were all boys. So my perfectionism started there and continued with my typing and shorthand teacher. I have loosened up a bit, but not to any significant degree. Having had a 4-H teacher who told me I was so ugly no one would ever want to marry me and why did I want to learn to cook?, I don't think people understand that words can matter so much to a youngster. So while my sewing skills probably exceed that of my mother, I will never measure up to her wonderful, caring, loving nature. Maybe I am spending too much time trying for perfection which ultimately can't be achieved. Bearis, I see why your quilting is so lovely. PS I did marry, have a wonderful home, wonderful children and grandchildren, wonderful life (with a few speed bumps) and am so grateful.
Last edited by Quilter 65; 05-31-2014 at 03:30 PM.