W(hat's) T(his) D(ecision): Blocks 29-32

So, hey. Remember last year when I decided to make a quilt that makes no sense? Yeah, I forgot about it too. Sort of. I frequently saw the finished blocks and fabrics sitting there, and frequently thought "Oh yeah, I have to finish that." And then didn't. I'm not a big WIP person, and I've got the quilt, an afghan I have yet to show you, and a shawl in progress. I don't like having two big projects and one medium project in the works. It makes me feel overwhelmed. So last week I decided to just buckle down and at least get the quilt top finished. So here are the next four blocks in my 'What's This Decision?' quilt. Contain your excitement. I don't want to be held responsible for pulled excitement muscles.

This one is in memory of our swimming pool. Beach balls, umbrellas, and sparkly water. Pool noodles, diving sticks, and don't-pee-in-the-pool signs. Ah, memories. (Yes, I see that thread. And yes, the stripes were supposed to run the same way but I didn't notice until the end and was not in a seam-ripping mood. It kind of looks like a pool raft, too, so I left it).

Hippies, sittin' on the grass, crankin' out tunes. I really wanted to use that center fabric. Story for you. When I was younger this corner store used to sell these flower-power looking stickers with your name written on them. Being Bethany, I never had stickers, erasers, keychains, or license plates in my name. So at a school fair one of the things they were giving away was a set of these stickers with the name 'Mickey' on it. There was this other girl a year ahead of me who wanted them (her name was Celene) and I convinced her my name was Mickey so I could have these stickers that were not in my name either (I don't even know why--I wasn't going to buy something not in my name, but free? Come on). Next school year we were in the same class for reading. She called me Mickey all year. And apparently missed the fact that the teacher called me something not even close.

In eighth grade we had career day. I thought I might want to be a journalist (to my mind they wrote stories and took pictures to go with them--I didn't know they were separate functions), so I signed up for that guy (and I forget my other choice). I remember he sounded pretty...not...that smart...and got into an argument with the teacher who thought he should try to sound more intelligent. He told her "Look lady, I'm not gonna say octogenarian when I can say eighty-year-old guy." When he took questions I made the mistake of asking about how much money a journalist made. Not entirely tactful (I was thirteen, and doesn't one work to make money anyway?) but a general answer could have been provided. Instead he told me "That is the rudest question I've ever been asked, and I don't think you'd make a good journalist if those are the questions you ask." Now, being thirteen, in public school (which are a little more worldly than private/parochial schools) and also from Philadelphia, you can imagine (as I won't write it here) what I said to him in my head. Thankfully, the teacher jumped in and not only ended the session but told him she was calling the paper to let them know to send someone else next year.

I love little scenic depictions such as the center block. I really wanted to use it, so this is a picnic being held on the green, with the birds singing in the trees overhead. 

I tinkered with my layout over the weekend to figure everything out. I need 63 blocks like this total. I have 42 sewn, and 13 cut and ready to sew. It only took about two weeks to make all of them (if you don't count the year of rest I decided to take, bwahahaha).