Most people’s idea of a sewing machine involves a small, portable, tabletop portioned mechanism that allows one to take two pieces of fabric and sew them together. When I first started thinking about quilting, I too was under such an impression. It wasn’t until recently that my perception of the sewing machine changed from a desk friendly box into a boat-sized behemoth that occupies the entire garage.

I call her Shirley. Yes, Shirley my trusty long-arm sewing machine. I’ve named her after my mother, a woman whom I miss dearly and loved deeply. (This is a picture of me at the age of one, and my mother. She would have gotten a kick out of knowing that I named my sewing machine after her. I know I get a kick every time I see that little piece of joy that moved into my life a few months ago and forced my husband’s car into the driveway. Hey, a woman’s gotta’ have her toys!