Before I got horribly sick this weekend (but still sick, as I had to load up a box of tissues and two bottles of decongestant to take with me), one of my best friends was in town and I went to visit her grandparents with her.
My friend, Duff, and I have been friends since seventh grade. A mutual friend introduced us, whom quickly became mutual enemies to both of us.
I love Duff's grandma. She's the grandma I've always wanted.
Do you see that? Grandma is wearing a quilt shirt. A quilt shirt. And she's standing in one of her two sewing rooms in front of her quilt reference library. (One of two rooms people, ONE OF TWO ROOMS.)
Grandma is currently working on an embroidery quilt. A whole quilt. That's been embroidered. By her. By hand. Whole quilt.
This is the hexagon quilt Grandma is working on. She recently ripped it all apart because the green use to be white and Grandma thought that was too stark. She does all her piecing by hand, but no paper. BY HAND. PIECING BY HAND.
Grandma has a whole closet of quilt tops. I wanted to rub them against my naked body. When she heard that, she wouldn't even let me see the newest ones. Hmph.
And Grandma is an avid gardener too. She has over 70 peonies. I even counted. And rows upon rows upon rows of veggies and other flowers too.
When I grow up, I want to be as cool as Grandma.