Kid in a Candy Store

I went to my favorite quilt shop yesterday. Alone. (For a mother of two children and two fur-children that's a major accomplishment!)

As I walked in the door, I was assaulted by a riot of glorious, saturated color. My inner artist screamed, "I want it all!" I allowed my senses to soak it in for a few moments, then made a bee-line for the corner where the gorgeous hand-painted fabrics and batiks beckoned to me.

One of them looked like a palette of easter-egg dyes had been upended all over it. Had to have a yard of that. Another looked like rose petals in all possible shades of red and violet had been ground into the fabric. Half a yard of that one. And half a yard of the green that screamed, "Leaves and stems!" from across the room.

Besides my abstract, organic quilts-from-my-imagination, my favorite things to render in fabric are flowers, so I am always on the lookout for anything that might do for petals, leaves, and stems. One can never have too many greens.

Well, actually, one can never have too much fabric, period. Fabrics are my paints, and I am always looking for new colors and textures to fill my paintbox with. Too bad my paintbox is actually an entire closet, and my paints are starting to overflow into the rest of the house.

The Chief has been fairly indulgent so far, but that will end when my obsession begins to intrude upon his daily life. Once he has to start climbing over boxes to get to the fridge--or worse, to reach his beloved Gladys--then it will be time to deal with me.

The best solution, of course, would be to build me a larger studio. Then I wouldn't have to worry about silly, practical things like where we're going to put it all, and I wouldn't have to curtail that kid-in-a-candy-store attitude that comes over me whenever I set foot in a quilt shop.