When I asked you to stop me from joining the Scarlet Letter stitch-along blog, I actually meant for you to discourage me. To point out to me that me signing up for a(n?) SAL or any other form of obligatory stitching is bound to end in misery and mayhap mayhem (thank you, Andrea for understanding me so completely). Thankfully for me, the Scarlet Letter blog is so popular, that it is now quite impossible for me to sign up (no, I know it’s still possible to sign up, but please, please, don’t make me do it). I say thankfully because, when I picked up Mary Hart, fully intending to stitch my way quickly down to the good part (i.e. the cat), I found myself frowning and scratching my head in wonderment when I couldn’t see any holes in the linen, while I was quite sure they were there before. Slowly but surely, the dreadful realization dawned that quite a bit of time has passed since the last time I worked on Mary Hart, and seeing that these days I can barely see what’s on my dinner plate without my freaking reading glasses, it’s probably a bit of a stretch to expect me to see the holes in the 40 count linen that I, in my infinite wisdom, chose to stitch Mary Hart on. Over-one on 40 count linen, old woman? What were you thinking?
Well, we’ll see how I manage to work my way around that. Not without the help of a very powerful magnifying glass, I fear.
Not to worry, though, because I have a project to fall back on when all else fails (or becomes invisible)… I know you missed her as much as I did: The Blue Lady. Mrs Slocombe. The Pistols.
Stitched on linen with holes the size of Yorkshire. The tiny white circle on the left hand side of the next picture is the bit I’m (still) working on right now.
This is a picture of the size of her (taken in the days when the décor of my home was still remarkably minimalist and fluff and clutter free)
And this is where I stopped yesterday evening
Ohhhhh, honeybuns, it was utterly glorious to work on her again. After all these years of hooking and knitting and not knowing what to do with all of my inspiration and my unrest and agitation, it turns out that THIS is what I needed. Some quiet time with my lovely lady. *Sigh* and, dare I say, *sniff*.
Oh, I’ve become so teary-eyed with adoration over my stitchy project, that I completely forgot to tell you about our Saint Nicholas celebrations. Next time, perhaps.
Yours deliriously in lovely,