Take me out to the ball game

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Day 10: Started work on 114 | Needlework | Cross-Stitch | Wall Hanging.

Is this boring yet?

Not for me, at least. So that’s good. Sorry about the lack of cute kid photos. She is still both cute and a kid, but there haven’t been a lot of photo ops lately. Plus, it’s hard to take pictures with a cross-stitch needle in one hand.

I started my next project today, and in some ways it is easier than the last (all one stitch), but it’s also harder (have to actually count). This is more the cross stitch I remember from my youth. All sorts of knots in the threads, putting stitches in the wrong spot, misreading the color symbols, poking my finger with the needle. People keep wanting to know why I don’t jump to a different area if I dislike cross-stitch so much, but I figure I may as well get it over with.

I took my last project to scrapbook day on Saturday, and lots of folks told me about how much they like cross stitch and how it rocks. For me, cross-stitch is a lot like baseball. I don’t see the point. Cross-stitch, to me, is purely decorative. Mostly people seem to make wall hangings or pillows or Christmas ornaments. How many wall hangings / decorative pillows / ornaments does a person need? It’s like that scene from “Never Been Kissed,” where Drew Barrymore’s character is putting the finishing touches on a needle-worked pillow. She gets all excited as she snips the last thread and then carries the pillow into her room and puts in on her bed with the two dozen other needle-worked pillows. And then her turtle stares at her and wonders where its pillow is. But do turtles get pillows? No. They don’t. It’s just not fair.

You could counter with: “How many pairs of knitted socks does one person need?”

My reply: “People (who don’t live in Bermuda) need socks. And socks wear out. Or get lost in the dryer. Or are eaten by hungry Siamese cats left alone in your apartment while you go home for Christmas and your friend, who was supposed to feed him, gets super sick and misses a day or two of kibble.”

You might follow up with: “Have you ever knitted a pair of socks?”

My reply: “Do slippers count? Or a Christmas stocking? That’s like a really big sock.”

And then you stare at me thoughtfully and ask about the utility of a quilled turtle. “How are quilled turtles useful,” you say.

My reply: “Look! A bunny!”

In other news, Anya has started singing the following song bits:

– Take me out to the ball game…
– Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree, how lovely are your branches!
– Find a friend and sit down on the floor…
– I’m a sea star, living in the sea, when I get hungry, for an ocean treat, I take my stomach out to eat. Sea star. Yah Yah Yah. Sea star. Yah Yah Yah.


6 thoughts on “Take me out to the ball game

  1. I thought it was a sweater Oscar ate?

    Fourth of July was 2 years he’s been gone, and I’d still give almost anything to see the fuzzy, neurotic, co-dependent, cross-eyed, pain-in-the-butt again. I miss him terribly.

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