My daughter announced an April resolution, in March. For the entire month of April she would use only what her sewing stash offered. No money would be spent on either fabric or notions. This rather rash, public declaration has compelled her into a series of UFOs- UnFinished Objects. The quilt in the picture is hers. It languished for the want of a binding. Beyond quilting, her UFOs included baby clothing. Bloomers which only required an elastic casing, and a sun hat that needed a bow and was given a contrasting band as well as a bow. The month is  half over. Her list continues.

I think, guiltily of my  own UFOs. I term them, UnFinished Projects. Granted, it is not as clever, but it does more accurately describe the build up of unfinished work beneath my sewing desk. Not only do they reside under the desk, but in various drawers and boxes throughout the house. A desk drawer contains two unfinished counted cross stitch projects. It becane difficult to see the small work and I have never made peace with a magnifying glass around my neck. I should try again. A box contains a stash of yarn with an afghan begun. It is a winter project, but I seem to forget it until spring.

The stack under the sewing desk contains several unfinished quilt tops. One needs only to be layered, tied and bound. I was not pleased with its construction and thus am not motivated to complete it for use. A seasonal set of novice level table runners wait for a button at each end. They were intended to be given as gifts. Because they required a minimum of effort, I am never satisfied to give them. I quilt a runner that is more intricate and put them away for another time. Another time arrives only to repeat the process.

One quilt top in particular tends to haunt me. It is a square about the size of a card table. It was given to me by a friend. It is a UFP of her late mother. At times it lies across the ironing board, or over the back of the couch. I wait for inspiration. Surely I can think of some unique setting in which to put this. My daughter’s plan inspired me to get it out again. It was returned to the bin when my other daughter requested aprons for a school play.

A line up of scrap booking projects takes precedence over UFPs. I  easily smother the guilt.  I am glad I no longer have children’s clothes crammed into a mending basket…box…large bag. The children cautioned each other, “Don’t give it to Mom to mend, you’ll never see it again.” Not quite true. Sometimes I got it mended in time to hand down to a younger child.

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