As if it's not enough that I can now crochet (well, sort of), enjoy hours at a sewing machine, prefer chamomille tea to green, will admit to loving Barbra Streisand music and wear only comfortable shoes (even on dates): I now enjoy hand-sewing.
It's sealing the deal: I'm an old lady. Prematurely, maybe, but still: totally old.
I might try to figure out how to convert my sofa into a monstrous rocking chair.
Here's what happened: we left for a camping trip (a wonderfully dirty, adventurous, eat-out-of-a-dutch-oven-over-the-fire one), and I wanted to take a project with me. And--because my husband has not yet built me a bicycle-powered generator so that I can take my sewing machine camping, I decided to try hand sewing.
It was a very, very good idea.
I made this:
It's another table runner from that fat, happy pile of old quilt tops--all four tied together with the best ever big red polka dot cotton that makes it seem like thouse four squares were meant to live together.
It's backed with an all kind of yellow daisy vintage sheet that I've been trying to find the right spot for.
And you know how whenver you go to somebody's house and they have some lovely, old quilt there and you notice it, they call you over and say the same thing every time: Look At The Size Of These Stitches. They're Tiny!
Well, let's just say that my ancestors will not be making that sort of comment to visiting starngers about my hand work. It will be more like . . .
Ancestor #1: Look at the size of these stitches.
Ancestor #2: Jeez. They're huge.
Ancestor #1: Maybe our relative was the Yeti.
Ancestor #2: They sort of wobble everywhere also.
Ancestor #1: Maybe she was a drunk Yeti.
Me: Whatever, Judgemental Ancestors.
This hand sewing project stayed with me everywhere I went: fireside, river side, lake side--and once in a pizza restaurant where my 11 year-old Man Boy requested that I put it away because it was so embarassing.
Me: How embarassing.
Him: Very.
Me: Like on a scale of 1 to 10 how embarassing is it to go out in public and realize your fly is down.
Him: 6.
Me: How embarassing is it to have your mom hand sewing in a pizza restaurant.
Him: 10.
Me: Oh.
And then I put it away.
Until we got in the car.
I'm working on my next one--a series of four vintage sheet squares that I landed in a lovely Bee that my friend Deb pulled together gobs of months ago.
I promise to show you when I finish.
