I don’t read very many quilt blogs. Not because I am not interested, of course, but rather because I don’t want to be influenced. Sure we all have quilters who inspire us–those we look up to, those whose work we covet, those that we would love to meet in person, or maybe we have met. And those I check in on regularly and interact with in the various social media platforms. I have been trying to be better about posting comments rather than just lurking.

But I don’t read much from other quilters because I want to remain original in my designs, whether I am relevant or not.

It does not escape me that I want people to read what I write in this space, yet that I may or may not reciprocate. It is what it is.

The world in which we quilt in is a tricky one. It’s a world defined by terms such as “traditional modernism,” “improvisation,” and “minimalism.” And I have a beef with most of those labels. How they are assigned, and defined. And why we need them.

It is not a secret that I do not follow the trends in the latest quilt fabrics. I buy and use fabrics buy the piece, not the line. I mix anything and everything. And in the last few years I have rarely purchased fabric (my last purchase was in January–a little Cotton and Steel, and before that my previous purchase was in March 2014). I have been quilting from my stash. At times it feels great. Other times it feels like a burden. But that is another post for another time.

So where do I get my “quiltspiration?” I read several fashion and street style blogs religiously. It’s twofold really, 1) I am interested in the subject matter and 2) the colors, patterns, and textures are infinitely interesting. I also read design blogs, photography blogs, and travel blogs plus print forms of these as well. I also follow IG accounts of many of the same. And spend lots of time in my own head.

Imagine my surprise this week when I found this on TLo:


Pineapple log cabin. Valentino, via creative direction team of Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pierpaolo Piccioli, you are a man after my own heart. From the Valentino website:

Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pierpaolo Piccioli’s stylistic approach is defined by their sense of contemporary nourished by contrasts and love for a mélange of visual, artistic and literary inputs synthesized in a vibrant and distinctive style. A fusion of styles and languages is the key to their method.

That description above sums up quiltspiration in a nutshell. Although in this case the garment is the inverse of quiltspiration, rather it is the quilt. Right?

What do you think? Would you wear it? Would you quilt it? Would you quilt it in velvet? Where do you find inspiration for your quilts?

Embrace the Wobble

DSC_0135I don’t know how much I have described my quilting style, except that if you follow me on this blog or other forms of social media, you may know that I work in a liberated form of quilting. Slow quilting for sure. Making parts and pieces with design decisions along the way. Generally no patterns (there are exceptions occasionally). I also work from a design wall. Putting up bits and bobs and leaving them there as I work, sometimes for weeks, or months. OK, usually months.

special pieces

Truth be told sometimes I take stuff down because I get tired of looking at it and working on it. I’ll put up another WIP or start something new then come back to the original. Or not. As a result of this method what I am working on typically does not travel well. Taking it off the wall seems like too much effort.

When I travel to my quilting bee at friends’ houses (we rotate who hosts) it can be difficult to know what to stitch. Last fall I grabbed a bin of overflowing strings with the intention of starting a series of log cabin experiments. The first would be a single log cabin block, worked in the round. Some people would call this improvisational. I don’t. Whatever.

DSC_0137Traditionally, the center of any log cabin quilt block is red. This represents the hearth and center of the home. The light and the warmth. What we love to gather ‘round. I added skinny strings at first with no sense for color placement. There is no measuring. In fact, the strings were not measured when initially cut. They are not straight widths, some have bias. I trimmed them with scissors when I got to the end of the row. Early on I pressed only every few rows. As it got big, then bigger, I had to press after every round to keep it “manageable.”

IMG_0005I started this quilt without an intended recipient. Quilting for quilting sake. No rules. Embracing the wobble. It was quick stitching. About 2.5 feet wide in one night.

But life throws you curveballs.

In early January my aunt was diagnosed with lymphoma. Overnight this quilt had an intended purpose, no longer relegated to giving me something to do as an entremet to my main project.

The beauty of this type of quilt is its meditative nature. Each string is attached in the round with stitches love, and hope, and strength into the seams. A prayer quilt (yes even non-believers pray sometimes). I worked fast to get it finished and gifted. Some things can’t wait.

IMG_0017It uses some coveted fabrics like fancy French cake fabric purchased in Tokyo. What is the point in hoarding saving these fabrics anyway? They should be used, and loved.

IMG_0010IMG_0025This quilt doesn’t lay flat despite my best efforts to press it into submission. And it is certainly not square. I actually thought it best to just trim it up freehand (sans ruler or measurements) on the kitchen floor after quilting since nothing else in it is square. It seemed the right thing to do.

DSC_0146Life throws us curveballs and sometimes all we can do is make a quilt and embrace the wobble.



Title: Embrace the Wobble (Log Cabin #1)

Size: I forgot to measure. Big enough to wholly wrap up in. Likely about 65” X 75”

Materials: 100% cotton strings. From stash processing, from friends, from other friends, from the floor at retreat. Cotton thread. 100% cotton batting (three big pieces frankenbatted)

Started: September 2014 Finished: January 2015

For Pammy.

Choose your words wisely.

courthouse steps

I started today with the thought that I would post something for Wordless Wednesday. As the day wore on and I have seen the multitude of pictures of people arriving in Austin, Texas for QuiltCon, I thought about writing how I feel like the only person not going. Now, alas, here I sit writing about something entirely different.

So much of what we see and read on the Internet, or blogs in particular, is sanitized, I think. I don’t mean the people who “clean up” before they photograph something. I mean that it can be difficult to find blogs that write about hard things, honest things. Maybe because those things are hard to write about. Many blogs would have us believe that the world is all rainbows and unicorns, when we know those things are really rare. Besides, those close to me know I am not a huge fan of rainbows, at least of the quilted variety. Although I do love a good real rainbow.

I (mostly) completed the January prompt for my One Little Word FORWARD this weekend and I wrote three things down which sort of hit me in the face like a 2×4 tonight. It is these kinds of ah-ha moments that make me realize that despite my unsure-ness (is that even a word) with my word choice for this year, I am right where I need to be. Settling into it, and that feels really awesome.

So what did I commit to?

MORE: blogging—LESS: thoughts left in my head. (YOU ARE HERE)

MORE: saying what I need—LESS: saying yes so as to not disappoint.

And, as part of the answer to “What do I fear most in 2015?” I wrote—“I fear the fallout that comes with saying hard things.”

And so I sit here (writing—already making progress) contemplating the question, as I often do—Who reads what I write in this space? Does it matter what I write? Who reads any space? Why do we filter? What are we afraid of? Why do we live in a society where we tiptoe around each other, trying not to upset people? Or is that just me? It can’t be just me because I know others who do it too (the tiptoeing, not necessarily the contemplating).

I had a brief conversation with someone today and the reality of the words that were said stung (or rather, that were not even spoken but that I figured out).

They were upsetting. And totally true.

I got mad. And the only person I really have to be mad at is myself.

I am reminded, as I frequently am, that if you want to see a change you have to make a change.


Fortunately, tomorrow, we all get a second chance.


Twenty-fourteen was a fantastic year—perhaps one of the best years of my life. I attribute its success largely to my participation in Ali Edwards’ One Little Word program, which, for the first time in a long time allowed me to really focus my energy into personal, professional, and creative pursuits. My word for the year was MAKE, and make I did. If I were a better blogger you would have seen all the ways in which I incorporated make into my life on a daily basis. Instead you can retrace some of those adventures on my Instagram account if you are into that sort of thing.

I have been implementing a hashtag system to keep track of these various pursuits. All begin with #sotd (Stitch Outside the Ditch/stitchoutsidetheditch). Using hashtags in this way is is a great way for all of us to easily track our activities on the IG. You should try it.

Some of the categories where I “make” are:

  • makemebetter (all the running and water drinking, and homemade lunch eating. This was a HUGE category for me this year #soproud)
  • makesimprovements (on the house)
  • makesquilts (so.many.quilts this year. WIPs and new things. Hopefully I will share some here. Ideally I will share some here.)
  • makesmoney (new job)
  • makeslove (dates, and talks, and quality time with my babe)
  • makesdo (mending clothes rather than buying new, using what I have)
  • makeswhole (getaways with girlfriends and quality time spent with my local peeps)
  • makesjoy (this one really came into play towards the end of the year—more on this later)
  • makesfun (roadtrips and goodtimes. Impulse decisions.)
  • makesnomnomnom (because…food)

IMG_5114Truth be told, as I move into 2015 I am scared. Scared this year won’t be as good as the last. I still need to finish up December and say goodbye to move on from make. As I write this it is February 1 and technically I should have started my word for this year. I have been contemplating FORWARD and seeing how it sits with me. It started speaking to me towards the end of last year. Up until now, I’ve thought—it.will.do. But I need more than doable.

IMG_5107I received a package this week, something unexpected, which, surprisingly, left me pretty flustered. In the last few years and last year in particular I really learned to seek input and support from my friends when I need it (and to give those things in return), and man did I need it. I spent Sunday working in the snow-free and sun-filled yard—something unheard of in February in Salt Lake City; we are normally neck deep in snow and atmospheric inversions. I spent that time thinking about what they wrote to me, and what I need to do to remedy my situation. I started to hatch a plan. In that time I came to the conclusion that yes, now more than ever, I need to move FORWARD. I am also reminded that these words choose me; I don’t choose them. And in that regard forward will do.just.fine.

My Tribe

Frankly, I don’t know when it happened, but slowly, over the course of several years I have found my tribe. My tribes. A Venn diagram of friendship. I have been thinking a lot about this recently, but even more so after receiving so many lovely and supportive comments on my recent post. But let me step back a little…

I have never (until recently) had many close girlfriends. I grew up in a weird neighborhood. The kind where the kids were of scattered age and from varied social/economic status. Our houses didn’t all look the same. We didn’t all click. In high school I had one “best” friend but even she and I grew apart after high school as our lives went separate paths in our college years (although I am happy to say she and I have rekindled our relationship). I was always a “cool girl” who had more guy friends, than girlfriends. A natural, but feminine, tomboy I guess. Frankly I just didn’t have time for the b.s. and drama of most female relationships. And frankly, guys were just more fun to hang out with. I had lots of “older brothers.”

But as I aged this bothered me. I would latch on to a close girlfriend in each of my college pursuits but as soon as that degree was over we would drift apart. I finally smartened up to my character flaw and began new relationships with women whom I thought had excellent friend potential with an honest disclosure, “I will be your friend for life so long as you accept that I won’t keep in contact.” ‘Til this day I am still friends with the first person I confessed that honest truth to. And we don’t stay in close contact, but we do periodically touch base and make time for a girl’s trip every few years or so. The most magical thing is that we just pick up where we left off. There is no judging, or resentment. Just staying up too late giggling and catching up, shopping for make-up neither of us needs, and spending too much time shopping at discount stores (#vivaROSSvegas). You know—girl stuff.

Fast-forward several years to when I found a new tribe, my first quilt tribe, of talented and caring women at a quilt retreat I ended up attending for several years in northern Michigan. The circumstances under which I attended my first retreat were either odd or serendipitous; you be the judge. We were all Beaver Island Quilt Retreat “newbies”—fifth weekers (and actually our small group grew over the course of a couple of years, but still, we don’t keep score). The connection was instantaneous; the relationships are gratifying. These are the women I reached out to last week to talk me off the “quilt ledge” so to speak. That is another story for another time. But these women offered me love and support, and solutions. They understood me and what I was going through, am going through. They sent kind words like “As the new day moves forward and life continues, I am still thinking of your heatbreak…Not forgotten.” [heart gushing]. My Ladies.

And when I moved to Utah, I found yet another tribe. This one took a little time, and has been refined even more in the last few years. The women whom I could call at any time of the day, for any reason, and they would come with open arms. The ones who will listen to my rants about this or that quilting issue du jour. My prosthelytizing about the tenets of liberated quiltmaking and breaking rules. My singer featherweight sisters. Some of whom, in a good year, will even pay to run through clouds of color or electric forests with me all in the name of fun.

And then there are those whom I have never met (although I have met a few) from the interwebs and social medias. Those whom I have developed a great love for their work, their writing, their unique points-of-view. Those people who offer words of support either directly through comments and “likes” or who don’t say a thing but who I know are there cheering me along the way because I am doing exactly the same for them, for you. For years I have heard people extolling the blessings of the internet and the “blogging community” but I felt like an outsider. Many of these relationships developed before “flickr was dead” and before I even “existed” in the digital sense of the word. I was skeptical because I reached out one time to a successful blogger thinking we had a connection, but I guess it was just one sided. A one-sided quilt-girl-crush and she broke my heart. But then I got better, and I rose above it, and I realized you were here, we were here, just waiting to find each other. And for that I am truly grateful.


She’s my season and my reasons,

She’s my Summer,

She’s my Winter,

She’s my Spring.

I haven’t watched American Idol for a full in season in I don’t know how long. Likely since about season 2 or 3. Because of the type of quilting I do it can take me a bit to get “in the groove” and when I am in it I don’t want to leave. As a result, I rarely have time to quilt during the week after I have worked a full day +/- ran/cooked dinner/walked the dog/ate dinner/watched two episodes of Parks and Rec., etc. I go to bed relatively early, except on the weekends.

But last week I started watching the American Idol auditions. The talent that appears on the show seems to get better each year. Playing the guitar/piano/accordion is the rule, rather than the exception. But this week. MAN, this week. I saw a young adult that blew.my.mind. I can’t get his voice out of my head.

If I were a gambler, I would bet on him to win. In the mean time, I’ll be tuning in each week to listen.

Ladies and gentleman–your NEXT American Idol.

And for a full version of what he sang on the audition:



frosty_windowThree years ago I started this blog. Three years. And in that time I have produced a measly number of posts.

At the time I was struggling. Struggling with who I was, or how I defined myself (a recovering quilt magazine editor). Struggling with quilting. I was paralyzed creatively from that experience. Maybe not paralyzed, but I had certainly lost my mojo during that “phase” of my life and I was trying slowly, desperately to get it back.

I was also struggling with how to define myself on a newly created blog. What “voice” I would use, etc. Truth be told, I don’t think I have done a very good job. This is entirely my own fault. Ironic really, but let me explain.

Why “Stitch Outside the Ditch?” Long story short, I attribute this concept to me being a middle child. Middle children fly below the radar. We do things differently. Walk a little bit on the wild side, but not enough to get in major trouble. In elementary school I was a talker (not much has changed). When I was in fifth grade (Mrs. Berry’s class, J.R. Brooker Elementary) I used to get my name written on the board (strike 1). Then a “check” mark (strike 2). Double check (strike 3). What does that even mean, really? “I’m not going to warn you again.” Actually, two checks meant a hand slap with rulers taped together. I suspect this is probably illegal now. And then I would stop; most of the time. One time, I got three checks—it was horrible. A LETTER HOME TO MY PARENTS, WHICH THEY HAD TO SIGN. I was worried sick. Fear of disappointing and whatnot.

Where was I?

As a middle child I:

  1. fly under the radar
  2. like to be a bit risky
  3. hate to disappoint and here’s the kicker
  4. am fiercely independent.

Swim against the stream. Most of the time.

In quilting, when you stitch-in-the-ditch, you are quilting in that “valley” created next to a seam that is pressed “away” from you. This is a very traditional, and I am going to say conservative, way to quilt. It is the way to quilt when you don’t want the quilting to be obvious, or command attention. It is a way of quilting that does not require thinking outside of the box. Ironically, it is also very hard to do well.

In my quilting I am a rule breaker (or maybe a rule bender—a ¼” seam is paramount). I am a liberated quiltmaker and am not modest about it. In my personal life I buck tradition. People who know me, know this about me. But here is the thing. I don’t feel like I have been completely honest with you, or me for that matter, on this blog. This makes the blog, which was non-existent three years ago suffer (as if that is even possible).

In the past I have only largely written about quilting—but there is so much more to me than quilting. So much more I want to share with you. So many things I don’t currently share because I don’t know how they fit into this format, this genre of blog/brand. Things I don’t share because I may offend (see #3 above) someone with my opinion (they are strong, and sometimes controversial, or may be hurtful to some—I am thinking mainly about some of the brouhaha that often surfaces in the quilting world). Things I don’t write because I may offend someone with my word choice. Truth be told I am a cusser and I edit my words to “politely” fit this space. No more.

Also, there are things I don’t write about because NO ONE CARES. But here’s the thing—I care. And I have thoughts about things, which sounds stupid to even type, but this is true. I need to write about them to get the words that are constantly on repeat out of my head so that new words/thoughts/designs/ideas can enter. I want to use this space to share some of my other creative pursuits. Running pursuits. Tidying pursuits. Photography pursuits. Plus, some of the content would likely be good. Just sayin’.

In an effort for me to be more honest and transparent I have decided to cuss when I need to cuss; to write when I feel the need to write; to share what I need to share. I learned over a year ago in a seminar on personal branding that I need to either repel or attract readers with my blog and that is what I am going to do. #slowlearner (I feel better already).

It seems there is constantly chatter on the internets about the “death” of blogs, or blogs as a dying medium because they were killed by Instagram, which killed Flickr or some murder pyramid scheme like that. I think blogs are what you make of them, writing or reading, and I read some really good blogs. The best blogs, in my opinion, are ones that have really good writing, but not necessarily about quilting because those things obstruct my own creative processes. One of my goals this year is to make my blog better, for you dear friend, but more importantly for me.

So, I am wondering–do you have a minute? There are some things I have been wanting to share…