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Cross Stitch

Yesterday, after explaining to T.R. how to calculate sales tax for his math homework (That sounds like he’s made a business out of selling homework. Who would ever pay for homework that messy?), I sat nearby to make encouraging noises at appropriate times and worked on a cross-stitch project for my mom. Cross-stitch is something I haven’t done much of in a long time. I learned it early in my string obsessions, shortly after needlepoint, but I came to the conclusion that there were a limited number of pillows, afghans, and samplers that a person could possibly use or give away. Also that I do not belong to the majority culture of cross-stitch enthusiasts, who like to flower things.

However, when I was last visiting my mom, she mentioned that the afghan I made for her several couches ago doesn’t match the current décor. She said she’d like one that does. (For years and years and years, I tried giving my mom handmade presents. Now that I have given up, she actually asked for one!)

It turns out that I am not the only one who has given up cross-stitch. Supplies are harder to find. I got rid of my pattern books in one of my simplicity movements and an internet search did not turn up the perfect pattern, so I bought a new book. The afghan cloth itself required visits to multiple stores. I did, however, have needles, floss, and an appropriately-sized embroidery hoop.

What I couldn’t find, at first, was my technique. I fumbled around like I hadn’t made gazillions of stitches before. I went to find my glasses, which I never wear, even though Syd says they make me look like a biker librarian. That helped a little. I finished one square about the time T. finished his math.

Only 27 more to go.

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jan_can_too
jan_can_too

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