I was on Mrs. P's blog and as she is a quilter, I mentioned in jest the quilts I began but never finished 14 years ago. I know. Chicken quilting. Who would have thunk it. I love quilts. They appeal to the country girl in me as well as the ADD (all those patterns, and colors, and shapes-oh my).
Without further ado, here is a quilt that I never finished.
Very "Little House on the Prairie", don't you think? But as it turned out, nine months was not quite long enough and after he was born I could drink wine again. So I never finished it.
Here is another quilt I never finished.
I call this the "Clipped Geese" quilt because, having never done it before, the triangles aren't quite triangles. This one was done on my sewing machine. I know. It's kind of fugly. It won't hurt my feelings if you say so. It was my first attempt.
Not sure why I never finished the quilts. Maybe I just don't like to hem things in. Maybe I like my quilts to live outside the box. Whatever the reason, here's the proof that Chicken does have somewhat of a nesting gene despite the irreverant sense of humor.
True to my nature, which is annoying even to me, what started out as a simple task to provide Mrs. P with photos of my unfinished quilts turned into an introspective exercise, and I began looking about for other things I have started and not finished.
For instance, 7 or 8 years ago I thought it would be fun to start knitting and I promptly went about acquiring all the materials, picturing myself the knitter of cute sweaters and homemade mittens and hats, like my Grammy Nat tried to teach me to knit way back when. Grammy Nat had an enquiring mind, however, and there was always a big stack of the "Enquirer" to catch up on at her house. At 12, the Enquirer was way too much to resist. All that relevant information! I was too busy reading about shark attacks and UFOs to learn how to properly cast on or retrieve a dropped stitch, never mind casting off. My knitting projects never really got off the ground, but still all the colorful yarns look quaint in their little basket, don't they? If someone walked in and saw it, they would be all like, hey, Chicken knits, isn't that adorable? Of course, this would have to be someone I've never met before who has never heard me swear like a sailor and demand that everyone have another margarita. Here's my knitting basket:
littleb likes to borrow the knitting needles and pretend he's Charlie Watts. That's why you only see one. In reality, I have at least 5 sets languishing throughout the house, ready for any drumming opportunity that may arise. If Mick Jagger ever pays an impromptu visit, littleb is prepared. Don't worry. I always warn him in my best David Sedaris voice not to run with them.
Speaking of rockstars and unfinished projects, that reminds me of a story that I have not told you.
WhenI was 39 I had what might have been, looking back, a small mid-life crisis. I decided that I needed to learn how to play the guitar. Because, you know, I have always secretly wanted to be a rockstar. Come on. I cannot be the only one, so 'fess up to your inner rockstar people, and tell me all about it. Anyway, I decided I wanted to learn to play the guitar and started searching E-bay for a used one. I am fussy. It couldn't be just any guitar, it had to be a special guitar. And in case you do not know me very well, I am a big Springsteen fan.
Naturally, I needed to find out what kind of guitar the Boss played, and as it turns out, his favored brand is one named "Takamine". I needed me a Takamine. Even though I have no idea how to pronounce Takamine. If ever I was talking to a real guitarist and mentioned that I play guitar and they asked me what kind, I would be all sorts of embrrassed. I'd be like, "TAK-a-meen-e? Ta-KAN-a-Meen? ta-ka-MINE?...here, let me write it down..." Anyway, I found one. Here it is:
Maybe you can't quite see that with the glare, but it is a genuine Takamine. Certainly not the model that the Boss spins his lyrics upon, but in the family. A great nephew, perhaps.
I bought the guitar and stocked up with "Guitar for Dummies" books. For weeks I practiced diligently.
You see, I had a plan.
Bruce Springsteen was scheduled to play at Gilette Stadium on my 40th birthday. My plan was to write Bruce ahead of time to let him know I'd be there, that I knew how to play the guitar, and that it was my 40th birthday. Because I know Bruce to be a real down to earth sort, I was sure that he would be responsive to my letter, and would probably send me complimentary tickets. I mean, I know that's what I would do if I was a rockstar and a Chicken wrote to me. Then, when I got to the stadium, somehow, miraculously, I would be in the front row. Bruce would play all my favorite Bruce songs, and then he would announce to the audience that it was Chicken's 40th birthday. He would pull me up on the stage, hand me a Takamine and we would play together. I would finally have my Rockstar moment. I think maybe "Human Touch" was the song I had in mind but I don'treally remember. There are so many great ones. And then there might have been vague fantasies of a private interlude due to the sudden, harmless disappearance of both Patty and BigB.
Anyway, and to tie this whole sordid story together, I never did get around to teaching myself to play guitar, and I never did write Bruce or attend that concert or meet my destiny. Just another thing I never finished, like the quilts and the knitting. But I will be turning 50 in a few years, and if Bruce is still up for it, so am I. Maybe if I start practicing now...