Its fall fair season. And that means I’m going out into the world. A little bit. Or I’m trying to.

This year I had small plans for hitting one of those Highland Fairs. It was being held close to home, and so if I got too tired, it wasn’t a long haul to get home. Those plans were quelled after I took one look at the entry fee. Yikes.

You know it’s bad when I’m passing up an afternoon being surrounded my men in kilts.

The next festival I’ve been looking forward to is Dozer Days. I’m not particularly interested in heavy trucks, but… I’m an author, I should know these things. Right?

I really wanted to go watch all the little kids be so happy around the big dump trucks, and possibly climb up into one of those back hoes. I couldn’t go last year because I was sick, and it was raining—a bad combination. And this one was also a complete bust.

We made an honest attempt to attend after lunch. But the parking lot was completely blocked off (it was not full) and cars leaving had a hard time getting around the orange cones.

The event was held in what was once a semi rural area that is under rapid development, so the road there is a 5 lane highway where everyone drives too fast, with the fifth center lane for making left turns. There were 2 cop cars blocking any left turns into the event (and also blocking any left turns out of the event). Defeated sigh, no big trucks for me.

I did managed to get out to a quilt show.

I didn’t think I was going to make it. I really didn’t. Crisis hit the week prior and it was a lot to manage. Fortunately, by the end of the week, everything had settled down and game plans were in place. While I was resolved to holding down the fort, just in case, my husband kicked me out of the house and told me to go. I wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity like that.

I am new to quilting. I got to it through bag making. Apparently there is a bigger connection between bags and quilts than there is between clothes and quilts. (I’ve been sewing for a ridiculously long time).

I want to bring in a quilt shop owner into my writing. I don’t think a shifter running a quilt shop would be the best idea. They’d get fur all over the fabric, not cool. I think a quilt shop would fit well into the Belvoir County world, I already have a yarn shop, it could be an interesting rivalry to establish.

In my brain quilt shops fit cozy mysteries more so than romances. I can picture an entire series: The Quilt Shop Murders, with titles like Fat Drawn and Quarters (fat quarters are a cut size/shape of fabric), and the Long-arm Meets the Law (a long-arm machine is a fancy specialty sewing machine for quilting). And with all good cozies there would be a quilting tie-in—free quilt square patterns, and if you make the squares as you read the series, you end up with a cute finished quilt.

It’s easier to imagine a murderer using the good fabric scissors (ifykyk) than it is to find a plot point that would bring a hunky love interest into the shop—maybe he’s a machine mechanic? I might have something there.

Or maybe I need to try my hand at cozies… Like I need more stories to write.