I was raised by women who took great pride in their domestic prowess.  My mother could put together a spread of enough homemade food to feed an army in less than an hour and all of it would look, taste, and smell delicious.  My grandmother could crochet beautiful and complicated afghans while carrying on lengthy conversations and loose her stitch count.  And my great grandmother, she was a quilter.  Her name was Elizabeth and even though she is my namesake I have spent most of my life content ... View the Post