seduced by fat quarters

I try not to go to fabric stores too often, especially tight little shops where absolutely every bolt on the shelves is screaming out my name. Take me home! they cry. You neeeeed me! I try not to go in because I know I can't help myself; inevitably I'll come out with something. The laundry room is already home to two full bins of fabric, and does not have space for a third. If they start spilling into the garage, and the sewing and cycling worlds collide, who knows what mayhem might ensue?

I'm sorry, I try to tell the little fabric bolts along the wall, but I absolutely do not need to take you home.

Ohhh, but I do.

So in an effort to simultaneously assuage guilt and give in to desire, I have turned to the pre-cut quarters. Have you noticed how they tend to quarter the best bolts? And have you further noticed that a quarter tends to run a measly two or three dollars? I'm sure this is a sly marketing technique to draw one back for the whole bolt, like those little taster spoons at the ice cream shop or the ten seconds blips on iTunes. But as I happen to be extra-resistant to all forms of inducement (ahem) the fat quarters satisfy me just fine. I get to bring something home (maybe even two or three little somethings, if I've been extra good), and I get to spend very nearly no money. Perfecto, all around.

And to top it off, I've even found a good place to use those quarters. With three girls, a lot of skirts have made their way down the line in this family. Depending on just how fat that quarter really is, I can generally get a whole skirt out of one -- a neat little rectangle with a machine stitched hem and elastic waistband. Half an hour from off-the-stack-to-done. Tops.

If the quarter is more wide than fat, I might have to add another quarter to the bottom (so as to cover that little bottom). Two-toned and sassy in forty minutes, tops.

Now if I could just figure out a way to get a fat quartered skirt around (and covering) me, we'd really be rolling.