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 Quilters are aliens. I can say that now because I’m one too. But it wasn’t always that way…I had my first introduction to quilting when my best friend invited me to a meeting of her quilting group. I thought I’d landed on a different planet…I tried to understand what they were saying but the language was totally different: they used words and expressions I’d never heard. I left that meeting thinking that to become a quilter I’d have to move into a log cabin, in a section of town called the “Fat Quarter” where I’d work to build my stash far away from a menacing Norwegian named OLFA.While living there (in my log cabin in the Fat Quarter) I’d be married with grandma’s wedding rings after I filled out the appliqué. Unless, of course, I did it in reverse. While my husband was out working to earn cash for my stash, I’d be at home making quilt sandwiches. Until I got good at quilting, I’d have to stay in the ditch, but eventually, I’d be able to hire a helper named Bernina who, though a good worker, suffered from a strange ailment called “Walking Foot”.I was assured I would be successful at quilting if I would consistently keep on a straight path just one-quarter inch from the edge. After a while, if I got my four-patch piecing just right, I might be considered for admission into an elite society called The Guild. The way I understood it, “The Guild” was a group that met regularly to talk about their fabric addiction and watch for UFOs.After that meeting my instinct was to run headlong in the other direction. For some reason, I didn’t. I’m still here, so you can probably guess where this story leads. But don’t miss the rest because it’s the journey from here to there that’s the most fun.  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
    Excerpt from the book Quilting with Aliens by Lisa-Marie Sanders  
   
 
           
           

   
 
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