Redacted

Thirty-one days ago, I set out to quilt 80 quilts before Easter. I am please to announce that it is finished. Done. Fini. Fertig. Terminado. And achieved three full days before the or-else deadline. I just took the last of the 80 quilts off of the longarm quilting machine.

I looked at the log I keep and counted 112 charity quilts finished so far in 2019. Yowza — one hundred twelve in less than four months. That’s just five shy of all the charity quilts we did during the whole of 2018.

Folks, I’m here to affirm that this personal best will never be broken. Any residue of a competitive nature has completely evaporated. Totally obliterated. This record will stand. Ain’t never going to try to better that one.

We actually learned quite a bit during Scrappy February and its aftermath. Our scrap piles diminished noticeably. We have organized things a little differently and that will make it easier to work the scraps into projects in the future. We’ll always have scraps — every quilt project adds scraps — but we’re better able to manage it all now.

Another thing. I discovered that I like the designing process the most. Especially when I have a little something and have to figure out how to work it into a quilt top. For example, in February we had a twelve-inch orphan pieced block that we worked into a medallion quilt. Great fun.

You may wonder how we ended up with 42 quilts in what was supposed to be one-a-day Scrappy February. Well, I was having fun creating new ways to combine bits of fabric. So much fun that I was designing, and Judi and I were making, two or three quilt tops a day. The winter weather outside might be frightful, but in our basement things were quite delightful. I didn’t keep up with the quilting because I didn’t want to waste the fountain of fun bubbling up within me.

A few times in February and March, when I was about to turn on the longarm quilting machine, we had power glitches because of winter storms. Yes, I have all of the gadgets lined up in front of the plug to the longarm machine — uninterruptible power supply and surge suppressor — but I don’t risk it. I unplug the machine when the damage potential is high. I even have a lightning detector that beeps if lightning is within 25 miles. (Yesterday afternoon the unit detected 199+ strikes in about 20 minutes.) So my hyper-vigilance caused me to unplug a few times in February and March. But since I’d rather be designing anyway, it was always a impulsive decision.

Given our experience in the last three months, I see clearly that I’m the bottleneck in the process we’ve adopted. Things can get backed up quickly if we invite very many folks to make quilt tops. Right now, I’m the one doing the quilting. We have others helping at various points in the process, but it all has to go through me. So, I’ve tested my limits and, in the future, will attenuate the grand visioning.

None of this would have been possible if Judi had not been on sabbatical. Her research topic is treatment of moral injury …

Hey, wait a stinkin’ minute. Has she been using me as a ██████ ███ for some sneaky psychological experimentation? I bet she has. As I’ve reported, she’s said things that are so out of character for her. She must have been trying to put me in a ██████ state where she can test out some █████████████ intervention on me. I bet that that’s what she’s been doing. Oh, boy, I’ve finally got her figured out. She’ll be impressed with me when she knows that I know what’s she’s gone and done.

Actually, the stories concocted in the past few weeks have been a delightful part of quilting 80 quilts in 31 days. I’ve had moments to dream up storylines and dialogue in the midst of running the longarm quilting machine. I set the laptop on a table directly behind me so I could turn and jot down ideas as they came tumbling out. As you probably have guessed, some of the story elements are rooted in reality. The really good parts, however, are fantastic in that they are “remote from reality.”

With the encouragement so generously poured out by my friends, I have started jotting notes about how to turn these stories into something more than a gaggle of tales. So far, the story arc begins with a scrappy February and goes to the or-else deadline. I am listing other quilting tasks that might stand up to the treatment I would give it, especially ones that emphasize a man navigating a stereotypical woman’s world. We’ll see what emerges from the dark recesses. If, instead of climbing to the light, I drop to the depth of darkness, at least I’m already in a residential treatment program with a psychologist on the premises.

Okay, where was I before I got distracted? Squirrel! Oh, yes, Judi’s sabbatical. It’s true, her availability this semester made all this possible. I think she would agree that she’s the responsible one in this whole scenario.

There are other partners, too. You already know about the folks who gathered on National Quilting Day to make 48 quilt tops. But you may not have heard about the sewing machines we have been given that we use in our sewing “pop ups.” Or the fabric donated that we’ve worked into quilt tops. Or the cash given for the purchase of batting. Or the “heads up” about estate sales where we buy fabric on the cheap. All of these folks have played a role in the completion of 112 quilts for Project Linus. We’re a team.

I did a little playing around with the quantity of materials we’ve used so far this year. We’ve almost gone through three 30-yard rolls of cotton batting. That’s a 90-inch strip nearly as long as a football field if you laid the batting end to end.

Most of the quilts we make are about 36 by 56 inches, crib size. We have about 3½ yards of fabric in the top and backing of each quilt — 3½ yards times 112 quilts is 392 yards of fabric. The amount of fabric used so far in 2019 equals a band of fabric 15 feet wide the length of a football field.

I heard a story about a matriarch who died. The family didn’t know what to do with her fabric stash, so they dug a hole in the back 40. Ugh.

Not us. We’ll take even the scraps and make quilts for 112 kids who face huge challenges. Maybe the comfort of a quilt will provide a sense of security, a hint of hope. Maybe while wrapped in a handmade quilt a child will have an awareness that others walk with them as they move through life’s difficulties. Maybe a child will intuitively realize that just as a quilt block is made from fragments of fabric so a shattered life can become something beautiful. That, my friends, is what motivates me. And that is enough.

So I have no regrets for how I’ve spent the last four months. To be honest, however, I am looking forward to fitting quilting into my days rather than shaping my days around standing at the longarm quilting machine. I’ll not stop what I do, but I’ll work to maintain a better balance.

My celebration of the completion of this season was simple. No herald trumpets. No screaming fans. Just a quiet, personal moment.

I got a piece of paper. On the top I wrote “Bucket List.” Then next to a number one I printed “SCRAPPY FEBRUARY” in caps. I held the paper at arm’s length and took a good look. I put the paper back on the table and drew a large check mark beside the entry. Done that. There won’t be a number two. Move on.

I now return to the usual rhythm of retirement living.