Tuesday, November 8, 2011

And then the wind blew

 6 Reasons Why You Don’t Take Your Husband to a Quilt Show.

1.  I know, it’s obvious. They cramp your shopping style. Even though mine was very understanding, it just wasn’t the same.
2. They don’t speak the language. Quarter-inch, half-square triangle and fat quarter all get them confused.
3. They can’t keep up.  They want to linger too long in a both figuring out how that is done. They ask too many questions and most of the time it’s How much does that cost?
4. They have trouble with a crowd. 
5. They have to eat at a certain time.
6. They want to take a shower when you are trying to do your hair. 

6 Reasons to Take Your Husband to a Quilt Show

1.     He can bring more books and patterns in his suitcases when he arrives and you can fill his bags back up with goodies you bought when you go home.
2.     He can carry your heavy bags back and forth to classes without getting tired.
3.      The girls like to talk to him and they like him. He even got some delicious pound cake from my Teacher’s Pet. Yummy!
4.     He pays for everything.
5.     When you have forgotten some important supplies for your class he goes back to the hotel and gets them for you.
6.     Best of all, he can talk you down off the ledge when you have had a bad day.

Bad day, you say?  Yes, I did have a class from hell. I don’t very often get a class like this but once in a while Satan gives me his best shot and this was it.  Really, it was just one student that forgot that others where sitting around her.  I think she got this confused with a private class and that there weren’t 26 other people wanting to learn, too.  Of course, she sat in the front row where she could debate me on every point I made.  She didn’t like me or my technique.  She made it clear that she only does traditional quilts. Why she was there I still don’t know.   I had a waiting list 2 times over.  It’s sad to say she took a spot from someone that really did want to do my class.

 At lunch Joe came and got me and she drilled him also. He told me at lunch She is a husband stealer (whatever that means).  But the fun was just beginning when I returned back from lunch.  She had already packed up her bags and was sitting there with a disturbed look on her face.  I hadn't even put my purse down when she and her friend started in on me.  I think the question was What is the big deal with having to look at color when making your quilts?  Why can’t we do this? and Why can’t we do that? and When are you getting to this? Most of which I had already covered.   I told her it looks like you are getting ready to leave and I didn't want to stop her, but you have been drilling me since I got back from lunch and when I start the class we will be covering your question.  She got up and so did her friend.  They left then another friend left. One friend stayed for the whole class. 

This selfish person made 26 people, including myself, uncomfortable and she didn't even care.   I just kept thinking how horrible it would be to be married to her or be her child.  I said a prayer for them.

That night I read the class comments and, of course, only hers and her friend’s were not complementary. What do you mean you don’t like my stupid stories?   So, Joe helped ease my angry thoughts of buying a gun (again) by taking me out to dinner.

So the next morning I am ready to go, thinking that nothing can be as bad as that class. I start to look forward to the day’s Zinnia class.  I put on my cute little silk dress and beaded sandals.  I am having a great hair day. You know you’re doing well when your hair is looking hot!  I get through the café, getting my bran muffin and coffee.   The bellboy helps me with my rolling bags that weight a ton.  He tells me that he has placed them outside where the bus stop is. I give him a tip and notice that no one is waiting for the bus outside. I ask why and they say it’s too cold and windy. Great, I am wearing a light weight dress.  Oh well, I will be inside all day.  So I wait there inside the café with the other eager quilters.

Then the bus arrives and the door opens with a bang and the wind is howling like a hurricane!  As I walk out and reach for my rolling bags, trying to hold onto my muffin and coffee, I feel a gust of wind swirl between my legs and grab the back of my dress and whip it over my head like a burka.  Just for good measure, it blows my slip up, too. I drop my muffin and push my coffee at some girl I don’t even know.  My arms go flailing like a helicopter as I try to get control over my flying skirt.  In the back of me, the people begin to make noises like Oh, noooooo.  As they try to walk past me to get on the bus, I again grab the back of my dress as the wind then flips the front of my dress up over my head (again). I am trying to wrap the skirt around my legs to get some control over the situation but there is clearly no hope in sight.  I am standing there with my dress over my head and my new Spanx in full view for all to see.   I finally get my dress under control and look around quickly to see that everyone is on the bus except me and there is nobody around to laugh but one man leaning against the wall with a puzzled look on his face.  That could have been MUCH worse, I think, as I climb the steps of the bus, trying to compose myself.  Then I reach the bus platform and notice the bus is full of quilters going to the show and they all saw my dress mishap and are roaring with laughter.  In the second row is a very lovely lady trying to hide her giggles with her hands as I walk past.  All I could say, standing there with my hair frizzed out, holding my dress with my name tag and faculty ribbon on is Now, just stop that as I plopped down in my seat.  

So, as I set up my classroom before the students arrived, I remembered the day before and that difficult girl and gave a little thanks that she is not in my class today!  

At lunch I share the story with Joe who keeps asking me, with glee in his eyes, You mean like Marylyn Monroe?   It was nothing like Marylyn Monroe.  It was definitely Melinda Bula.