Continued reckless indulgence. Went to the local quilt shop. Now understand: my parents live in the second largest metro area of the state, which comprises three quilt shops. None of them hold a candle to *this* shop. *This* shop specializes in reproduction fabrics. They have a whole Civil War section, a whole 30s section, a whole Vintage In General section, and then they carry lots and lots of lines of Moda fabrics. Seaside Roses. Buttercream and Fig. Wuthering Heights. Rhubarb and Ginger. Cinnamon Stars. It's pretty much dangerous to go in there--especially since these fabrics sell for around $10 a yard.
Remember the bundle of yarn-dyed plaids I bought last summer? Pink and green and brown? Let me jog your memory:

Those. Adorable. And I had no idea what to do with ten fat quarters, until around Christmas. Then I decided to make eight-pointed stars with them, and fill in with a big rambunctious matching print. That's why I went to the quilt shop--to find the print. Well, they are sold out of those particular prints, and will get them in in February (Charleston II, by the way). Soooooooo we're in the quilt store, and we have looooooooots of fabric and don't need more, so we're juuuuuuuuuuust looking, but feel guilty because the owner is so attentive. So we buy a punchneedle kit. Hooray! Punchneedle! How much is that going to be? All that embroidery floss I bought in high school will finally go to good use. Phew!