That pickle I got myself into yesterday with my current quilt project? The one that resulting in unsewing the entire thing (by the way, "unsewing" is a euphemism for what we used to call "ripping out")? After ME and I returned from our 10:00 a.m. quick trip to Log Cabin to see P, a member of our friendship group, I went to my studio and spent the rest of the afternoon re-sewing what I had torn asunder.
The result? Pickles aren't always sour or bitter or too hot to swallow. I am so very glad I destroyed what I had done because the re-do is so much better. Perfect? Well, you know the answer to that one. No, but it's so much more pleasing to both my brain and my eyes that it's darn close.
So I guess I have learned another lesson. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that what I always knew to be the truth was reinforced by my actions. If I had left the quilt the way it was and hung it in my home, my eyes would always go to the elements that bothered me (much the way a tongue keeps finding that painful tooth), and I would never be pleased or even moderately satisfied with that piece.
And what a waste of time and energy that would have been!
I never willingly eat sweet pickles, but I can imagine that making them could be enjoyable. And looking at one, well, that'll be just fine.
P.S. According to Blogspot's tally, five more days of writing will get me to the grand total of 600 entries!
