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For as long as I can remember, I have loved sewing. My mom had an old green Singer machine, and she made all kinds of things from clothes when we were little to the hanging advent calendar that we used every Christmas to determine if we were behaving or not. By the time I got into junior high, I was sewing more and more and must have had a home economics class that I loved because for Christmas when I was in 8th grade, I got my very own Singer sewing machine. Brand New! In high school, I made my own clothes, and oh how I wish I would have taken pictures of the outfits I made. They were fancy! Skirts and vests, and I even made a pair of gaucho pants! Does anyone even know what those are any more?

In my 20s, I started making my very first quilt. I'm not sure what year it was or even if it was before I had my first child or after, but I remember stopping in at the Sewing Studio in Normal, Illinois with a plan to get the materials I would need. No classes. Never thought about that. No instruction. Just a book with directions on what to do. Along with the book, I bought all the fabric and thread needed to complete the quilt. It was going to be beautiful in the sage green paisley fabrics that I chose, along with the complementing fabrics from the same collection. I read through directions and mastered both half square triangles and even quarter square triangles. My cutting was precision sharp, and my new skills with a rotary cutter and mat were perfected.

Over the years, I worked on that quilt when time allowed. At least seven years had gone by, and I had my second child, and then 12 years had gone by, and still when time allowed, I continued to work on it. At this point it was nearly finished, only lacking the last couple of borders, and after 20 years and having not worked on it for a few years, I found myself moving back again to Illinois. As we were throwing things on the truck for the big move, I looked at the shopping bag where my first quilt had traveled and lived for so long, and I said, "I'm never going to finish that. Just give it to the mission. Maybe someone will find it and finish it." And in the pile it went to be donated.

Upon arriving in Illinois in the summer of 2010, we were busy for the first few months settling in; however, school had started, and I found myself home alone during the day, as I had not planned to go back to work right away. What's the first thing I wanted to do with my time? Yes, QUILT! How I longed to have my project back so that I could finish it up. I couldn't even start a new one because I gave the book away with all the fabric, the quilt top and all. Once again I found myself at the Sewing Studio, and this time I got involved in classes, and in no time, I had completed my first quilt.

Kizzie Belle was the name my mom wanted to give me when I was born. Kizzie was a name in our family history, and Belle was her middle name. It was ruled out by my dad, but I still love that name to this day. Since the love of sewing, quilting, crocheting and crafting came to me honestly through generations of women before me, I found it only fitting to give the name to my business.