(From Dimensions Needlecrafts)
I'm not sure why she asked me. As a gift, my pen pal handed off a traditional gift in her family which involves cross stitching. It starts with a white tablecloth and you ask people who come over for dinner or what have you to sign it. After the fabric is filled with signatures (or you run out of friends) you go over the writing with colored threads. Guess it was a mistake to share this charming idea with my mom...
I was feeling a bit under the weather today and figured today was as good as any other to open up the package and get started... too bad Stephen Hawking was not here to explain the bizarre instructions involving bending threads and sewing through holes you create yourself or that the universe puts in place of a stitch to confound you. It's also unfortunate that my best friend was not here to explain the difference between "light brown" and "terra cotta" to me... or what the hell is "blue purple" in comparison to "dark purple"?
In whatever way that I eventually decided to decipher the code, I divided and separated the strands of color as the instructions recommended. I didn't have but one cross stitching hoop, so I tied all the threads to clothing hangers... at least my cat found the process amusing:
I read directions in sections of interest... as in, I read first whatever I didn't figure out on my own by scanning the pictures and charts. I'm just not one of those perfectly sensible females who lectures men on reading all the instructions before beginning a project. I assume I'm being condescended, so, I skip things... you know how there are instructions on shampoo bottles on how to wash your hair and warnings on coffee cups that the beverage is hot? Those are the things I assume I have the psychic powers to skim over by one glance at the paper.
Inevitably, I finally came to the bit of "Contents Include" and discovered that a needle was supposed to be in the package. I'm pretty neurotic about potentially harmful things being on the floor... my bare feet have paid for many acts of negligence and I'm paranoid about my cat's safety. I started to panic slightly when I noticed the needle wasn't taped between the two thin pieces of cardboard or attached to the fabric. I looked around the cushions, the ottoman, between the many books and magazines that tend to festoon my seating area...
...and then I remembered that last month I found a wrapped needle on the dinning room table wondering where the heck it came from...
After all this fiddling around, I finally thread the needle. I like that statement because of how simple it sounds... I finally thread the needle... The instructions specify that you are supposed to take apart the threads which are composed of about 6 strands. Certain parts of the project require one strand in the needle while others require two. I decided to start in the autumn section... it looked the simplest...
This top left area requires two strands from the black thread. That process is slightly cumbersome on its own unless you have a few years to carefully unravel the string. Then taking two thin threads and getting them through the needle...
...well, let's just say I've only made seven crosses so far after fighting with the needle and very thin, bending threads. I read after completing those crosses that I should divide the strands in half when actively working with them... so I tossed aside the project in frustration with a rather long black string falling out the back.
It didn't help that I also read after the crosses that this project is designed to take one year to complete. I had originally hoped to have this ready for my mom at her twenty-five and a half year anniversary (yes, my mom acknowledges halves... wonder what happened to the half birthdays though...) which would be November 10th.
Guess we'll see.
P.S. Happy Birthday Kat and Uncle Jay!
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