So the saturday before the fire, (isn't it odd how things get stuck in a timeline in relation to something else sometimes?) I did a brave thing. I went to a quilt guild meeting.
Now, you have to understand. I've never gone to a quilt guild meeting before in my life. I have been warned of these things and the crazies who stalk them by my role model, The Bitchy Stitcher. I thoroughly expected to be jumped upon by A) the Quilting Police B) Some old bat who would take me under her wing and not let me do anything on my own forever and/or C) be about 10-20 years younger than anyone else, sitting playing on my iPad wondering how long I have to wait before it would be impolite to just look at the stock that Fabric Matters brought along and leave without looking like so much of a schmuck that if I needed to come back that I couldn't.
Because really, that was the only reason I went.
And... I was a chicken.
Getting there was a bit of a disaster as it was. Google maps and Irish roads were not communing AT ALL that day (even less than they usually do). After my very nice boyfriend helped me figure out where things were, I eventually arrived and followed the, ahem, handful of old dears from the parking lot into a back building.
I was definitely the youngest person there besides one or two grand-daughters who were dragged along, none of which looked likely to be in double digits to me. Certainly the youngest person there who had arrived of their own volition.
Fortunately, Fabric Matters was in full swing already. I beelined for the tables and spent about 20 minutes shifting back and forth looking at everything. Eventually, I picked up a lovely blue water-soluable pen that actually has a water tip on the other end, meaning I can erase all by myself! Its shiney. I also got a packet of wash-away pencils. I was sorely tempted by a block of pounce, but resisted the urge to pick it up (which, of course, I now regret).
I got to say hello to the owner of Fabric Matters (the mother of a long-time friend) who was very nice and very helpful. Certainly more helpful than anyone else there. She assured me that I was coming at a quiet time and that the place would be more packed (more!?!) come the fall when the meetings started back up again.
There was no sign of them talking about anything although the website had promised someone who I guess I should know from the North talking about quilting. Once I'd purchased my pen and pencils I stood around sheepishly waiting for something to happen or someone to talk to me.
I was there, in total, probably 30 minutes. And then I left. Fled is probably the more accurate term, to be honest.
I just couldn't see myself talking to these women. They all seemed to know each other and were talking about children and grand children and gardens and husbands, none of which do I have! The archetypical stereotype of Irish grannies seemed to be the honest to god truth in there and, well, I'm not that, and don't plan on ever being that. What do I have to talk to these women about? I'm not even that hard-core a quilter!
I think I'm just not really the quilt guild type. My mother was never in one (that I know of) and I'm not entirely sure I see the point unless they're having workshops, which I think I could go to anyway. Maybe once I'm older and there are more people my own age I'll consider it. And I might go again if there's another store exhibiting that I want to go to.
But really, I think I'll give it a pass for now. I'm just not that much of a social animal when it comes to my crafts >.<