So I took a quilting class, because I've always wanted to learn. I have this rustic image in my mind of cozy evenings spent snuggled by the fire, hand-quilting a gorgeous bedspread. Somehow in my mind, nobody spits up on the rug.

Anyway, one of the ladies hanging out at the yarn/quilt shop remarked that quiltwers seem a bit more attuned to detail than knitters. I thought that was odd: I mean, knitters can be pretty serious about perfection. Not me, of course, I'm sort of a fix-it-as-I-go sort of knitter. Which is why I'll never get to be a really great quilter: all that measuring is just too much for me. I could never live that image in my mind, like Mary from the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, with her perfect little stitches.

So I'll have to live in the alternate craft world, the one where I have to put down the scarf I'm trying to knit in order to clean spit-up off the rug.