How to make a ribbon quilt
When I was trying to decide what to do with my old horse show ribbons, I saw some quilts a professional makes. I liked the idea of quilts quite a bit, and she is a beautiful sewer, no doubt about it–but I couldn’t really afford the cost of having someone else make the quilt for me. I wondered if I could do it and decided the only way to find out was… to do it. (View the finished quilts)
Pattern Selection
If you aren’t planning to use all your ribbons, you need to measure them (length and width) and determine your total fabric “area” for each color. Then look through pattern books and sites, and find a quilt that will work with your colors/available fabric amounts. If you sew regularly, you might consider getting a program like Electric Quilt, which lets you design your own quilts–it would be easier to test out the different patterns with your available colors.
I was planning to use all my ribbons, including the championship and year-ends, so I just cut off all the rosettes and started laying out designs on the floor. I wanted to use all the printed parts of the ribbons and wasn’t worried about the rest, so I rearranged until I found a pattern I liked.
Prepping the Ribbons
Mine were very, very dusty and very, very creased, so I washed them in cool water with a very mild soap. Then I quickly ran the iron over them to get out the worst creases and left them to dry overnight. They turned out beautifully.
However, if the iron is too hot I found it would rub off the printing. If you don’t need to wash your ribbons, you might want to try ironing with a thin damp cloth between the iron and the ribbons–that might help with the rub-off that I was seeing (of course, my ribbons were also old; I’m sure that didn’t help).
Pay attention to any very crooked ribbons–those will be hard to sew and, if you can, you should put them in the “don’t use” pile.
Prepping the Machine
I bought new needles for the machine–as thin as I could get them. I didn’t want to make large holes, because ribbons tend to show the holes and not close over. Regular all-purpose thread worked great for me. I ran a couple of test ribbons (pink and purple unprinted pieces I wasn’t planning on using) and adjusted the tension. I forget which way I had to adjust, but it wasn’t on the default setting. Also, while I tested, I found out the ribbons slide a bit while I sew. I didn’t want to pin them (the visible hole issue), so I found I had to hold the ribbons fairly tight while sewing them–that’s probably why I had to make so many adjustments to the thread tension.
Take your time testing, because once you figure out what works to get a nice seam, the rest of the quilt is EASY.
Sewing
My pattern was a modified Courthouse Steps, so I was sewing straight line after straight line. It went very quickly. Every now and then I squared up my blocks, to make sure everything was the same size and would line up correctly. Once I had all nine blocks done, I sewed three together for a row, and then sewed all three rows together. Like an idiot, I put one row on upside down, so I had to rip the seam and sew it back again. Moral of the story: remember you’re dealing with printed fabrics and it does matter which way things face.
Backing and Binding
I wanted to back the quilt so I could type out my results and put them on the quilt as well. I used a thin batting and a heavy cotton material; in the future, I’d go with a heavy muslin and no batting. I did end up pinning the backing and batting in place so that it wouldn’t shift while I was sewing it down–I just made sure the pins went through the seams so the holes wouldn’t show on the front of the quilt. Instead of binding, I sewed right-sides-together and then turned the quilt inside (or rightside…whichever you like) out. I hand-sewed the opening. I like the look, but you might prefer to sew regularly and bind the quilt.
I am not quilting down the batting. Instead, I’m going to sew some tabs on the quilt to hang some of the rosettes. I figure the tabs will work in the same way “tying” a quilt works–they’ll be enough to keep the batting in place, but I won’t have to worry about quilting down the whole thing.
Lessons Learned
In some ways, I find quilting ribbons easier than regular fabric–or, at least, there’s less cutting involved. It takes a little more time to make sure everything is staying lined up and square, but otherwise it was straightforward.
The biggest problem was the thread tension–it could be great for a while, and then it would suddenly slip and the back of the seam would be loops and snags.
The needles also broke two or three times. However, keep in mind that I was using very thin needles–they weren’t made for sewing through something as heavy as ribbons. Changing needles is easy, and it was worth buying extra needles so that I’d have smaller holes along the seams.
My seam allowances were TINY–as close to the edge of the ribbon as I could get them. That’s hard to maintain, and takes concentration. But any bigger, and you start to lose printed material on the front.
Despite my best intentions, the ribbons aren’t always perfectly straight in the front. Sometimes the ribbons were crooked, and to get them in the quilt I had to turn the ribbon slightly for the straight seam. I’ve been debating whether it would be better to trim all the ribbons straight before starting, or if that would cause problems because some wouldn’t be as wide as others. My crookedness problem I was able to correct each time I squared up the blocks.
Metallic thread is evil. I had considered using it because it would match the print on the ribbons, but it was IMPOSSIBLE to work with. I could not get the thread tension right, and it would snag and pull every time. I’m just glad I figured that out before I got to the “to quilt the top or not” stage–it would have been a disaster if I’d tried top quilting with metallic thread.
Despite the problems, I really enjoyed making the quilt. It took about three days to make and looks fantastic hanging on the wall. I was worried it was going to be too “hard” or something, but, really, it was a straightforward job. The hardest part was setting the thread tension and then going slowly enough to keep everything straight–everything else was much the same as regular quilting.
Missing Project Pony
I tend to be very reserved–I don’t like talking about myself. Which… explains why I blog? I know, I know. It makes no sense to me either.
So when I went off to college, I didn’t tell the riding instructors that the Super Saint had just been put to sleep. Naively, I thought I could handle the grief on my own time and it wouldn’t affect my riding. And because karma has a sick sense of humor, the first horse I rode at college was a tall, bay Thoroughbred whose name was a variation of the Super Saint’s and whose personality was close enough to the Super Saints that I was in tears by the end of the lesson.
Yay, first impressions with new instructors!
After the obligatory “you have to tell us these things” not-quite-a-lecture, I think my instructor went through the barn and found the least Super-Saint-like horse there was for my next lesson.
Enter the Project Pony. Actually, I don’t remember if she was officially my “project” or anything like that–for all I know, I was her project. I do know that she was new to the program and a little overwhelmed. My memory is hazy, but I believe the details were something like: her owner had only ridden her outdoors, the mare had never been in a group lesson situation before, and the mare had only been ridden by her owner. It’s a big step from that situation to an indoor college lesson program, where fifteen horses could share the ring when it rained and the mare was expected to have a new rider every day.
Project Pony was… erm… anxious. I was… erm… an emotional wreck. Together, we were our own little group therapy session.
The first day I rode her, the rest of my lesson was doing small jumps. Project Pony and I pranced around the arena until they were done, and then we walked between two jump standards. Well, no. First we bolted between them. Then we did a hunter horse’s version of passage through them. We probably pranced once or twice. Eventually, we walked through them.
For the rest of the year, I rode Project Pony in most of my lessons. She settled in quite nicely. And once she settled, she turned out to be a decent horse for advanced beginner riders–which meant she wasn’t supposed to be used in my lessons.
When my sophomore year started, they pried my resisting fingers out of Project Pony’s redheaded mane and put me on different horses. I begged, I pleaded, I bribed: I still got thrown on different horses. Every once in a while, one of her other riders would fry poor Project Pony’s brain, and then I got to ride her again. Every once in a while, I’d re-injure my back, or something else would happen to me, and for my physical or mental health I’d get to ride Project Pony again. Fortunately, only one of us was a wreck on any given day. I suspect, however, that we both could have been a wreck and it would have worked out all right. We just would have stood in a corner of the arena going “It’s ok… tell me it’s ok… it’s ok… tell me it’s ok… are we going to die if we trot? tell me we won’t die… I won’t die if you don’t die… it’s ok… tell me it’s ok…” at each other.
I don’t know why I’m so nostalgic this week. She’s just a little chestnut mare, you know?
And I’ve written myself into a corner where the only way out is some profound-sounding Hallmark kind of ending, and I’m not a Hallmark ending kind of gal. Neither is the Project Pony.
So I’ll just end with a general salute to apples and to Project Pony’s “What do you mean, I can’t have the whole thing all at once?” expression when I fed them to her.
Ahem. A game. Am I the only one amused?
I saw this on TWoP, originally, but I’m adapting it for books. So. Come up with one famous literary quote for each letter of the alphabet; don’t cheat and look up an alphabetical quote list. Rack your brain until you remember a line. Once you know the line you want to quote, then you can look it up and make sure you have it (and the author!) right. You can count itty words (a, an, the, it’s, etc) as the starting letter or not, however it’s most convenient.
- All that you held most dear you will put by and leave behind you; and this is the arrow the longbow of your exile first lets fly. Divine Comedy, The Paradiso, Dante
- Because in times like these, / to have you listen at all, it’s necessary / to talk about trees. What Kind of Times are These?, Adrienne Rich
- Call me Ishmael. Moby Dick, Herman Melville
- Do not go gentle into that good night. / Old age should burn and rave at close of day: / Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Do Not Go Gentle , Dylan Thomas
- Exegi monumentum aere perennius. (I have built a monument more lasting than bronze.) Odes III.30, Horace
- Forever his spirit will wander / Cold and alone as the sea / His voice ever scatter the seagulls / But never again shatter me. Untitled, Michelle Bainbridge
- Godlings are born racily. // They are excavated / Into life by the strong licks / Of the world-cow, suckled / By goats, mares, wolves. Nativities, U.A. Fanthorpe
- Had we but world enough, and time, / This coyness, lady, were no crime. To His Coy Mistress, Andrew Marvel
- It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
- (In) Just- / Spring when the world is mud- / lucious the little / lame balloonman // whistles far and wee In Just—, E. E. Cummings
- Kings may come, and kings may go. / What was I, to bring these low? The Book of Good Counsels, an old Hindu text
- (The) Lady, or the Tiger? The Lady of the Tiger, Frank Stockton
- My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: / Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair! Ozymandias, Percy Bysshe Shelley
- No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. Meditation XVII, John Donne
- Oh paint me / again, and badly, so that I / may seem unreal. O Painter Who Painted Me, Juan Ramon Jiminez, trans. Eloise Roach
- Pity this busy monster,manunkind, // not. pity this busy monster, E. E. Cummings
- Quoth the raven, “Nevermore!” The Raven, Edgar Allen Poe
- Roman, remember by your strength to rule / Earth’s peoples—for your arts are to be these: / To pacify, to impose the rule of law, / To spare the conquored, battle down the proud. Aeneid, Book VI, Virgil (trans. Robert Fitzgerald)
- Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Sonnet 18, Shakespeare
- Twas brillig, and the slithy toves / Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: / All mimsy were the borogoves, / And the mome raths outgrabe. The Jabberwocky, Lewis Carroll
- Up the airy mountain / Down the rushy glen / We daren’t go a’ hunting / For fear of little men. The Fairies, William Allingham
- (A) Victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers. Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare
- Water, water, everywhere, / And all the boards did shrink. / Water, water, everywhere, / And not a drop to drink. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Samuel Coleridge
- (In) Xanadu did Kubla Khan / A stately pleasuredome decree Kubla Khan, Samuel Coleridge
- You do not do, you do not do, / Any more, black shoe. Daddy, Silvia Plath
- (When) Zephyrus eek with his sweete breeth / Inspired hath in every holt and heeth / The tendre croppes… Canterbury Tales, Chaucer
Edit: I admit it: I had to Google the “V” quote. I just couldn’t think of a good quote starting with V. And I had to stretch to get some of the others in—Z is not the best quote from Chaucer’s prologue, and I feel bad about the (In) Just—bit of J, since the (In) is crucial to the line. I also decided to stick to the first quote for each letter that I came up with, so some of them are pretty bad—and I thought of better ones later. Oh well.
Interesting exercise, anyway. Try it. Go on; I dare you. (And good luck with X. *snicker* Xanadu was easy: what are you going to do?)
It’s a Wonderful Gag
Some Guy; He’s probably important, like the main character or something, but I’ll be damned if I know because It’s a Wonderful Life is one of those movies you never really watch:
I’ll… I’ll… I’ll get you the moon. I’ll lasso it and I’ll get you the moon.
Mary, whose name we know because it’s in every other line:
I’ll take it. And then what?
That Guy:
Then you can swallow it.
Bwah ha ha!
Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Heh. Ha ha.
Snicker.
Snerk.
“Swallow it.”
Hee hee hee *snort* heeeee ha!
Sorry. Don’t know what came over me there.
I’m sure it has nothing whatsoever to do with the cider I’m drinking.
“You can swallow it.”
Snorfle. Phhhheh heh heh.
In seven hours
In seven hours I will be in my car on the way to State Fair, dressed in my ever-stylish ensemble of jeans, dirty tennis shoes, and raggedy old sweater. My rain jacket is waiting in the closet. It will rain. It always rains at State Fair.
I will wander into the barn area and say hello to the horses, probably annoying anyone who is actually showing because most general Fair visitors are idiots. I still remember the year a dad carried his perhaps-six-year-old daughter up to the stall row and told her she could pet the horses, despite the signs saying not to do that. Exasperated, she tossed her pigtails and wailed “Daddy! Can’t you read? They bite!”
If only all parents had the sense their children do. The kid’s comment was helped, I’m sure, by the fact that the horse the father was heading towards had his ears pinned back and eyes rolling because he was not, to put it lightly, a people horse. I steered them toward my older, gentler, greatly-missed Saint. And minutes later had to jump in front of a well-meaning parent who was about to feed my horse an apple. A normal activity, I know, but apple seeds can show up on a drug test as a banned drug. Weird, huh? How do you tell a five year old that they cannot, in fact, feed the horse an apple?
And by the fourth day of the show and six hundred kids later, how do you do so politely? You don’t, of course. You hope you’re stabled next to the cranky horse with his ears pinned back and his eyes rolling so everyone will gravitate down the stall row to the Saint.
Unless, of course, you own the Saint.
So I will show up this year not with an apple in hand but with an old, raggedy towel. I will scrape boots and polish hooves and set up the jumps they knock down in the warm-up ring. I will walk horses between classes. I will write names on ribbons when classes are done and I will hold martingales when riders finish their jumping rounds and head back for the flat class.
And if I am lucky I will see a class or two as well.
Sometime this weekend I’ll return to the Fair, but I won’t return to the horse show. I’ll slip by unannounced and make my way into the fairgrounds proper, something I haven’t done for eight years. I will find the funnel cakes I barely remember and peek in at the giant pumpkins and lettuce heads.
But before I enjoy the Fair everyone else knows, I am going to enjoy the Fair I know. I am prepared: I have my bag with clean shoes and socks for the ride home (the ones I wear in the morning will be soaked). I have my bug dope and my lotion. I have a towel and some gloves. I’ve found shirts to layer on each other and a hat to conceal my raggedy hair.
Seven hours. All I need is some sleep.