My grandmother is an excellent quilt maker. Throughout the years, she has earned much admiration from the entire family for her quilts. It’s impossible not to appreciate the racks which have been made heavy with her hand-made masterpieces.

One Christmas, our family sat in the typical circle waiting to open gifts. One by one, Grandma’s children and grandchildren unwrapped a hand-made gift. Each of her children received a large, quilted blanket and each grandchild acquired a quilted, square pillow.

Though Grandma claimed they were “nothing special,” I begged to differ! The pillow is hard not to love. Placed proudly in the middle of the pillows on my bed, it has me thinking of good-ol-grams often. The best part? The tag on the back crediting her work.

The pillow is awesome, but I selfishly still wanted a quilt. Envious of aunts, uncles and my own parents, I watched as they each opened their package and spread out a brilliantly-made quilt so Grandma could snap a picture. Each was unique – different patterns, colors, sizes and dimensions.

Grandma has been quilting for close to 20 years. They sure look like they take ample time, patience and expertise to create. Still, I decided to give it a go.

Garage saling with my dad one afternoon, I had come across an interesting piece of fabric. On it, lighthouses from around the world were pictured. Solely, it was useless, but priced at $2, it was much too unique to pass up. I’m no seamstress, but I was sure something could be made of it.

After purchasing a sewing machine, a wild guess was made to how much additional fabric was needed. The rookie in me shone as I read the directions for how to thread the needle on the machine. In just under an hour, I was ready to sew. Leaving measuring and pinning aside, I started to… well, improvise.

With high hopes of creating a wonderful masterpiece up to par with Grandma’s standard, I decided to gift my blanket to Dad when I would finish, as he enjoyed the lighthouse fabric even more than I did. Four months later, the blanket had been produced. It was standard, alright. The seams are crooked and gap open in some areas. The stitches are as straight as a three-year-old’s scissor work, and if you tilt your head to the side, you’ll see the continuous puckers almost make a pattern of their own. Not an ideal gift.

Compared to Grandma’s quilts, my amateur blanket looked like a grease rag – a blanket for our dogs, at best. Regardless, I am proud of it and gained a better understanding of the work that goes into creating such a piece.

Not long after creating my own rag-of-a-blanket, Grandma pulled me into her bedroom. One by one, she spread her quilts over her bed and told me I could pick one. Overjoyed, the decision was not easy to make.

In fact, it was quite torturous. Other family members, who had already made their selection, were in Grandma’s kitchen enjoying each other’s company. Meanwhile, I remained at Grandma’s bedside mulling over each quilt. This wasn’t a Dairy Queen gift certificate here, this was a gift that she had spent hours – days – weeks making, and she was giving one to me. The quilt chosen would cover my bed for years to come and would, without a doubt, be in my possession for the rest of my life.

Finally, after two hours, a quilt was chosen and has remained on my bed ever since. The stitches are so perfectly spaced and straight, you’d think Grandma was a machine. Every time my bed is made, I check to be sure the tag is still in tact. I run my finger over the beautiful words, “Quilted with Love by Rosie,” and have found at that moment, every time, it’s impossible not to smile.

Shootin’ the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.