No, I wasn't showing in one, but I went to one. And actually, it was hardly first, as the Mother dragged me pouting and screaming to many as a child. I returned the favour this past Sunday by dragging the (much better behaved) Other to the local quilt guild's show.
I stupidly didn't take any pictures of the impressive quilts there, so you'll have to ogle the fabric I bought instead, most of it secondhand and cheap to counter the expensive tree fabric imported from Japan. Haven't a clue what I'll do with it yet, but I have a friend who'd love something from the hippo fabric.
We didn't know that men got free admission to the show, so that was a nice bonus. The usual surprise at men in quiltland popped up again, with one woman sarcastically saying, "Oh, yeah, I bet you're thrilled" as I dug through a pile of old embroidery. Little did she know that I might as well have been in a candy shop. I may look like a twentysomething man (actually, my hairline adds a few unwarranted years), but really I'm just a little old lady like the rest of them.
Plenty of the women there asked me about my quilting, and a couple even begged me to join their guild. Since the Other and I just (finally) bought a car, extending our mobility past the mailbox on the corner, I could actually go to meetings. But I dunno. I probably won't be bothered with blocks of the month and that sort of thing, as I pretty much know what kind of quilts I like working on, aesthetically speaking. And will they recognize my inner old lady or think I'm just a very strange little man? Anybody out there want to enlighten me on the joys of guild membership?