What WAS I thinking?

In an earlier post I showed a photo of a quilt top that I had just finished. I wasn't happy with the color of the red--it just seemed too heavy on the pink side of the spectrum. So I dithered and discussed options with some of the TTT gang and finally decided to go the RIT dye route. I bought a bottle of Tan Liquid and followed the directions. Put the dye in the washing machine, agitated it, added the wet quilt top, etc). And, well, I was happy with the color. It tinted the quilt enough to tone everything down.
A great result, you say? Unfortunately, no. It seems that the fabric that I used for the red squares had a propensity of returning to its pre-fabric state--that is to say it raveled and turned into threads. When I took it out of the dryer I had MANY frayed seams. I spent hours trying to salvage the quilt top (I have a hard time giving up on a project). Well, I did get the seams repaired but I know they're not very strong and I'm not sure how well it will hold up over time. So the top will go into a drawer until a finer day comes along and I get a new idea about what to do with it.
It was suggested to me that perhaps I should have put the quilt top in a large container with the dye, stirred it occasionally, gently hand rinsed and then hung it out to dry. I think that is an excellent suggestion and if I should ever be stupid enough to try this dyeing thing again, that is exactly what I will do. Live and learn.
On a lighter, gentler note: I went to a funeral this afternoon for a 91 year old friend who was a remarkable man. In spite of many physical afflictions (including macular degeneration), he lived his life to the fullest--including going out to lunch with my husband just this past Thursday. Among the things he loved was music and he had a collection of over 1,000 cd's. His funeral was held in an Episcopal church and was a traditional service; however, it had a couple of twists that were somewhat unusual. Before the service began, in place of the regular pre-funeral prelude type of music, the pianist played an assortment of 40's & 50's (and maybe some 30's) showtunes and several lively gospel tunes, ending up with a rousing rendition of "When the Saints Come Marching In." It captured his spirit so well and everyone was nodding their head or tapping their feet to the beat. And then, the homily was mainly one long punchline that captured the humor and intellect of this wonderful man. His children were in the front pew and added to it as it went. I think that everyone came away from the service with a sense of a life well-lived and a sending off that was defintely a bang--not a whimper. Way to go Gaynor!