Apparently the seamstresses of old used to include a deliberate mistake in each of their pieces of sewing. The flaw was to serve as a reminder that only God is perfect. Unlike those ladies, I don't need to continue this tradition because my work has enough flaws to keep me in a state of constant humility. Which brings us to this quilt. When I saw Lizzy House's brilliant adaptation of the cover of a Vivaldi recording, I was determined to make one of my own. I changed the design and colors slightly and spent hours cutting out all the squares. I thought it would make a perfect quilt for the girls to use in the family room, even possibly filling in as an impromptu tool for teaching them their colors. I can honestly say that I have never had so much trouble with a quilt. Everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong with this project. My measurements were off, my impulsive -- and short lived -- attempt at free form quilting was a disaster, my binding had to be ripped off and reapplied. Still, I was going to finish that quilt if it killed me. When I finally sewed the last stitch, I shamefacedly brought it to show my family. They lovingly insisted that it was a triumph. I told my mom that I just didn't know how I had made such a mess of things. She thought a second and then said, "You're pushing it too much. If you just try to throw things together that fast, it won't be fun anymore." She was right. So the quilt lives on in my living room, a daily reminder to me to slow down and enjoy my life...even the messy parts.