I’m finishing preparing for my Sewing Summit class, so likely things will continue to be quiet around here. I keep thinking things will slow down, and then something else comes up. I had hoped to be officially back in business as far as quilting goes. But that isn’t happening. Actually, my longarm has been at the “shop” getting repaired and I have a backlog of client quilts to get through. My hope is to get through the large stack before Thanksgiving and then more than likely I wont be taking quilting again until after the New Year. I feel like I haven’t got a break yet this year with all the book work, so I am thinking I’ll take the holidays off since I host them at my house. Rest assured, the first order of business when I get back from Sewing Summit is going to be 2013 sewing calendars for the shop. I’m thinking they will be available for purchase beginning the end of the month. I’ll of course do a post when that happens.
If you follow me on Instagram, you know that I am forever posting photos of my kitty-boys. They pretty much dominate my photo stream. They just can’t help but be cute all the time. Newman especially. He’s my quilt kitty. He doesn’t care how he’s touching them, he just has to be touching them. I think he was rather happy to have this bin in the chair to lay on, because it meant he could rest his back on this antique quilt I picked up this summer. He was in kitty heaven. I have to make sure and unpack quilts from clients with him locked out of the room, because he makes a beeline for the boxes and tries to get on the quilts. I learned quickly not to open boxes around him. If it’s not wanting to be in the box before it’s even fully opened, it’s wanting to get on that quilt. When I’m quilting my own quilts, the cats are allowed in the room, because I don’t care about kitty hair on them (they are not allowed in the room when I’m working on client quilts and it is de-cat-haired fully before I even unbox them). Newman will, no joke, climb on the quilt as I’m running the longarm across it. That cat has no fear (except of Tucker, my mom’s ginormous golden retriever). If he’s not on it, he’s trying to lay under it. He was definitely meant to be our kitty.