Quilt Anarchy

Sometimes things just work out to my advantage.  Yesterday was my day.  Although there were other successes, the one I'm happiest with is the instant gratification stop my sister, Sid, had to make next door to Hancock Fabrics.  Now she knows me well enough to know that I wasn't going to have that business of sitting in the car while she ducked into Office Depot.  The idea is unzipped insanity!

Needless to say, my last words to her were, "I'll be in Hancocks when you're done.  Come meet me."  
Now, honestly, doesn't this make way more sense than sitting in a hot car waiting for someone wondering what kind of goodies were being missed?  I mean, really, the girl is not a quilter, but she was raised with some sense, I thought at least.

And then, in case you think that I am judging too harshly, she waltzed into the store and told me I had to choose between the fat quarters above and these below.

I'm her elder by three years, and since one is supposed to respect her elders, I thought I'd teach her a sound lesson by picking up these:

In the end, Sid's insanity was waylaid, I made my purchases, and we were on our way.  Rest assured that there will be no more of this flaky sensibility.  The girl may be loved, but she's not safeguarded from the comeuppance of such blasphemy. 

Who in her right mind would leave such luscious cotton?  I'm seeing beautiful scarves from the little packet--the ones I really like to make with beading on the edges.

Is it supposed to be MY fault that the prettiest color happens to come with friends attached, all tied up in a little ribbon?  How could that be?  And since one silly girl needed a lesson on quilting methodology and respect, I was forced to make a much-needed statement.  

I do believe my rant is done.  I'll close with this final visual of the beauty of hand-dyes and these questions:


Did I not make the correct choice? Was it not in defense of quilters everywhere?  Were you forced to choose, would you not make the same choice?