Quilts, Tacos & Tattoos

The Quilt Show

Opening day at the Dallas Quilt Show was the biggest event every year for our family: not Christmas, not birthdays, but the Quilt Show. It could make or break the year for Mom, and this year depended on it. As always, she rented a house for the staff so everyone could be together. Mom believed it made us feel connected. And she was right. During this time we really felt more like a family. And even though we worked long hours before, during and after the Quilt Show, at night we would stay up late and play card games and debrief the day's event.

The first morning of the show Mom arrived as soon as she could, which was 5:30 AM. The two of us worked side-by-side arranging and rearranging the booth to make sure that the most popular kits were featured.

It was hours before the show opened, but our booth was ready. All of the patterns were out on display, the machines were labeled with details and sales prices, every kit was ready, all the fabrics were organized by shade of color and the lessons sales chart was posted up high.

When the booth was completed, she reminded everyone, "The lessons are the most important part. Lessons help an owner become more familiar with their sewing machine and converts them into a real stitcher, which then converts them to collectors of fabric and patterns."

Mom's motto was, "The more they sew, the more we grow."

The Quilt Show was scheduled to open in fifteen minutes. I was sitting at a machine practicing attaching different feet when Mom tapped me on the shoulder. "Want to go and look at all the quilts together?" I looked up at her confused.

"We always save it for the last day."

"I know, but it might be fun to switch things up a little this year."

"Really? It's not tradition to go up early. Won't you feel rushed? You hate to feel rushed through the show."

"I do. You do know me so well. But I really would like to do it today with just you."

"Just let me put this foot back on, and then I'll be ready."

"Deal." She said with a smile.

I finished and walked over to the fabric corner of our booth. She was leaving a note for Betsy, who hadn't arrived yet. I stood beside her and propped my elbow on the table, then reached into the big candy jar on the counter and dug around for a piece of candy.

"The good stuff is under the curtain." She told me without looking up.

"I was wondering where it was. You normally keep it over by the machines for Luanne."

"She is on a diet this year, but we will see how long that lasts," she said while putting the last thing on her list and then taping it to the table.

"I think she'll be done with her diet by noon today."

"That long, you think?" She laughed and tucked her arm through mine.

I asked, "Should we start at the Miniature Quilts, Best in Show, Art Quilts, or Appliqués?"

"I want to start with Best in Show. We always leave that for last, and since we are mixing things up, we might as well start backwards too."

We began walking to the front of the quilt show to look for the Best in Show quilt. As we walked through the other booths to the front, Mom looked left and right checking out the competition to see what they had on display. I could almost hear the questions in her mind: Did they choose the same patterns? What fabric lines were they featuring? Did they have new tools? Were they using half bolts or full bolts?

Mom is the biggest rubber-necker on the highway, and walking with her through the booths to the front of the show was like driving through a bad wreck. I had to keep giving her a little tug to keep her head facing forward.