blognov5

My mum had to jet off this week for a funeral.  Apparently she was in such a rush, she wasn't able to tie up her loose ends.   I get a call from her at the airport, requesting that I pick up fabric samples from her house and go to a small quilting store in town.  Say her name.  They would know what to do.

Very mysterious, no?

As instructed, I find the little baggie of quilting material on her front bench.  I take it to the store and wait patiently in line as the woman in front of me pulls a discount code from a jar and nearly pees her pants for 20%.  She's saved 8.94 on her gingham alone.  You go, girl.

My turn:

Me:  I'm not sure if I'm in the right place, but...

Lady at the Counter:  Oh, you are.

Me:  Okay, my mum told me to show this to you (baggie of material)  and pick up a new baggie.

Lady:  (looks from side to side then grabs a new baggie from a box and hands it to me)   Just take it.  She's actually not allowed to do it this way.  She has to come in herself.

Me:  But she's across the country at a funeral.

Lady:  That's fine.  Just take it.  It's supposed to be $7, but just take it.

Me: Um. Okay.  ...   ...  So what's this all about?  Is it like a Quilt Fight Club?

No response.

Me:  You know.  Like the first rule of Quilt Fight Club is don't talk about Quilt Fight Club?

At this point, I can hear them whistling over her head, as she gives me the same condescending smile she probably reserves for kids who fart at dinner and giggle.

Me:  Well, thanks then.  She won't be back by next Saturday, so I guess I'll see you again to pick up her next fix.

Very mysterious.