If it's not one thing...

...it's your mother. As the saying goes. Growing up, I was always told by my mother that you cannot wear white shoes after Labor Day. Why? Because. I'm sure I could Google the thinking behind this thought and find out exactly what the reasoning is, but in the end, it's because my mom said you can't. And like many things, my mom said you can't wear white shoes after Labor Day because that's what her mom always told her. So we don't.




Now I consider myself to be relatively easy-going, with-the-times kind of gal. I'm not scared of people with tattoos, multiple piercings, purple hair or far out fashion. Some people just like to present themselves with a little more flair than others, and I like that. While I myself tend to dress on the conservative side, it's just because that's my style. I don't subscribe to any doctrines that suggest how I dress. I'm rarely seen in anything but Target jeans and t-shirts. It could even be said that I have little fashion sense. Gasp. Long sleeves in July. Flip flops in January. Whatever. It's just this one thing, this one fashion faux pas ingrained in my genes.
I can't bring myself to wear white shoes come September. I just can't do it. White purses either. Now white athletic shoes, those are still OK. And I promise that I really don't even care, that much, if you choose to wear your white shoes and carry your white purses after Labor Day. After all, I don't have a good reason not to.
My girls are the owners of several pairs of sweet white sandals. And being that today is Labor Day, I had to put them away. I put Baby G's in the garage sale pile. They won't fit her by next Easter. That's when you can wear white sandals again, in case you were wondering. Lilly had several pairs which I scrubbed and put away for Ginger to wear when she's bigger.
It felt good to clean out the "shoe shelf" that holds all of my kid's shoes. As always, we're trying to bring more order to our house, and every little bit helps. Being that we're in East Texas, it's still very hot here. The high's this week will be in the mid-nineties. Lilly will most likely be asking me where on earth all her white sandals went. And I will tell her that I put them away. Because she can't wear them anymore. It's after Labor Day. Some things never change.

A Quilt for Lilly

My mom taught me how to sew an apron the summer I was 12. I think her mom did the same. Every since then I've liked to sew. I've always gone through phases, making a whole quilt in a few weeks time, then not touching a machine for months or even years. But at heart, I do consider myself a quilter. I want to make each of my kids a quilt. I'm making Lilly a Sunbonnet Sue quilt. I've always been drawn to the old-fashioned stuff, and I'm hoping she'll like all the pretty colors and patterns.

I actually started this quilt 2.5 years ago, with then intent of giving it to Lilly for her 3rd birthday. Well, life and my short attention span both got in the way, and here we are. Lilly will be 4 in February, and I see no reason I can't have this done in plenty of time. Oh, and one for Owen too. They're twins.

I heart fabric. I bought a stack of 50 fat quarters of vintage reproduction fabric several years ago. I'm finally getting around to using it.

I'm not using a particular pattern. I didn't see one that looked exactly how I wanted, so I found several patterns I kind of liked, and combined them. I drew my pieces free-hand, on freezer paper.

All my edges are raw.

I pinned all the pieces on 13" square backgrounds, using tiny applique needles.

I used the blanket stitch on my machine.

I have all my pieces cut. Next I just need to pin and sew. I think this will end up being a twin size quilt, but I'm not sure. Once all my 16 squares are done I'll have to figure out how I want to put it together, etc. I'm not one of those people who plans everything out before starting a project. It drives my husband crazy, but usually, it works.

I really hope Lilly loves her quilt when I finish it. I hope it makes her feel special to know it was made just for her, by my hands. Even when she is grown, I hope she will pull it out sometimes, and hopefully even use it, and feel loved.