Hello Friend,

It started, as all good quilting adventures do, with a list.

Sharon had been preparing for this retreat for weeks. WEEKS. She had sticky notes on her cutting table, reminders in her phone, a Google doc shared with herself titled “Things Not to Forget,” and—this is true—a spreadsheet color-coded by project.

She wasn’t coming to play.

She arrived at the retreat center looking like she was moving in for a month. One wheeled sewing machine trolley. One backup machine in its original box (because “you never know”). A collapsible wagon. Six tote bags. A bag just for snacks. One for irons (yes, plural). Three project bins. And a body pillow, which I respect deeply.

Now, to be clear, we were THRILLED she came this prepared. Her setup was like a Pinterest board: coordinating thread, rulers clipped by type, everything labeled. I swear she even brought a tiny lamp with a dimmer switch.

She was glowing with excitement. Until she pulled out her first kit, reached into her notions bag… and froze.

“Where’s my rotary cutter?”

Cue the full-body pat-down. The frantic bag shuffle. The desperate hope that maybe, maybe, one had magically fallen between fabric stacks. Nope. That sucker was 72 miles away on her cutting table back home, sitting exactly where her checklist said it should be.

She blinked, then grinned.

“Well,” she said, “at least I brought both irons.”

We laughed until we cried. The retreat crew rallied, of course—we always have extras—and Sharon went on to finish two quilt tops, eat her weight in pretzels, and teach everyone a new way to fold fat quarters. The missing rotary cutter became part of retreat lore.

And as we packed up, she pulled out her list—revised now in bold marker:

DON’T FORGET THE ROTARY CUTTER, SHARON.

Moral of the story? Overpack if you must, forget if you must—but don’t forget to laugh. That’s what makes retreats worth every minute.

Got a story like Sharon’s? We’d love to hear it. Hit reply and tell us your best (or worst!) quilting mishap. We’ll be reading with a cup of coffee and a seam ripper nearby—just in case.