Advice from a small town girl

I'm fresh back from International Quilt Market in Portland.

Well, I don't feel particularly fresh - I'm still tired, but you know what I mean.

Talk about a fish out of water.

Now, in all the years I lived in Portland, I did not feel particularly bumpkin-like. I knew I wasn't a sophisticate, by any means, but I could usually hold my own in a conversation.

As soon as I walked in the door at the convention center, I knew I was in over my head.

Two days later, I was drowning. In fact, I skipped the final day, just so I could breathe again.

Oh, my goodness.

I've been feeling pretty good about our little quilt shop. I've been bringing in fabrics and notions, arranging and rearranging, choosing patterns and books. We've been doing a pretty good business, and I was flushed with what I saw as success. And I was having fun!

Then I went to Quilt Market.

Oh, my goodness!

Every exhibit hall space in the convention center was taken up with all things quilting. There were fabric manufacturers, publishing companies, wholesalers and individual pattern designers. There were celebrity quilters everywhere. Mind you, when I say celebrity quilters, it's not like "Dancing with the Stars." You're not going to see anyone famous at Market, unless you're a quilter.

Celebrity quilters are quilters who have become celebrities, because they've hosted television shows about quilting, have written quilting books, designed fabric or patterns, or sometimes all of the above. I've seen their faces so many times over the years that I feel like they're old friends.

And some of them act like they are. Others, not so much.

That, however, is neither here nor there.

As I wandered the aisles, trying not to betray my total ignorance about virtually every aspect of Market (and at the same time trying not to be run over), I was thinking about fish and ponds. I probably should have been thinking about what was in front of me, but it was easier by far to think about fish and pond. There was too much of the other.

Now, it's not hard to convince yourself that you're bigger and better when you live in a small town. Especially in a town where people are supportive of your efforts, whether you're a new business owner or a high school student. Big fish in a small pond, so they say.

But as I was walking by a fabric manufacturer's "booth" that was actually about 12 booths worth of space, and overheard a customer ordering "four bolts of this and three of that," I began to wonder just what I was thinking. Because I don't even think in multiple bolts of one fabric.

Suddenly, I felt like a minnow.

Swimming upstream.

With a piranha on my tail.

The feeling stuck with me as I drove home Sunday, and even persisted through several hours of gardening on Monday.

Today's better. I'm back in the shop, where I think I belong. I brought back a few items and a few more ideas, all of which should fit nicely into our pond.

But I still can't help looking behind me.