It stacks up

So this weekend I'm gone to a quilting retreat.

Last year I spent a good deal of my preparation time, um, er, freaking out about all the talented quilters and designers and whether I'd stick out like a sore thumb.

This year I was invited back! But the retreat weekend snuck up on me a little. That was good because it condensed the panic time.

My fabrics are chosen and cut; even my back-up complementary fabric is cut in case of last-minute change of mind. Not that that ever happens to me. My sewing machine, cutting mat, rulers and overnight bag are at the ready.

But wait.

Last year the retreat was on a remote mountaintop in the middle of public forest land, enhancing its exclusive mystique and my sense of removal from home and hearth. This year, by sheer coincidence, the venue is moved across the road from me. I may sleep at home in between hours of frantic, I mean earnest, stitching and creativity and fellowship with the neat women and artists I was privileged to meet last year.

And I hope to share pictures of my completed quilt top when I return. From across the road. (Why did the chicken...?)