I shall speak the truth: I don't much like my daughter sewing.
When she reads, she returns all bewildered and with flaming cheeks from the island where the chestful of precious stones is hidden, from the dismal castle where a poor orphan child is persecuted.
If she colors pictures, a semi-articulate song issues from her, increasing as the hum of bees around the privet.
But my daughter is silent when she sews, silent for hours on end, with her mouth firmly closed. She is silent, and she -- why not write down the word that frightens me -- she is thinking.
-- From Colette, "Earthly Paradise: An Autobiography of Colette Drawn From Her Lifetime Writings"
I've been on my hands and knees these last few days. Stitching, stitching stitching. Something very exciting is on the horizon for 2010 which I am not privy to talk about yet but will reveal in good time...and you will all be invited.
But I can tell you this: 1) I will need to be highly disciplined for the next five months, and 2) for the last three days, I have been cross-stitching words like these:
The piece I'm working on now is so large -- three by four feet, so far -- that the only way I can figure out how to sew it is to crouch over it. (Alternative suggestions would be roundly welcomed as my lower back is not amused.)
(My work space)
I have made out a very detailed work schedule for myself based on how much I need to stitch every day (minus weekends and vacations) and if my calculations are right, I am looking at a good 4-6 hours every day between now and April.
That's why there's only been one blog post this week, my darlings. Because I needed to take some time to plan, design, map out, calculate and, of course, count.
I will be back on Monday with a fabulous post about a fearless woman I met recently who I hope will inspire you as much as she has inspired me.
Now I must go. There's a row of hypodermic syringes waiting to be sewn up...
