Monday, November 10, 2003

Not dead yet. . .

I've been really busy at work, and not so good about accomplishing anything on the stitching front. It makes me feel guilty to write when I'm not stitching. I just wish that made me stitch more rather than simply making me avoid posting!

As promised weeks ago, The Tulsa scissor incident: when I went to Camp Wannasew last March, I had a lovely pair of scissors in a metal chatelaine that my mother bought me for Christmas. While there, I purchased many things, among them a Ewe and Eye kit that came with scissors. One of the projects we learned that weekend was finishing small projects as a stand-up cube. Like this. The cube is sewn together, and because we needed to do some cutting, they gave us a pair of full-sized shears. Because I was flying with two expensive pairs of scissors, I was so careful to remove everything from my stitching bag when I packed, while carrying on the greatest amount of stash possible, so I could spend my time fondling*. Or so I thought. So we're going through security in the Tulsa airport and the screener says, "looks like we've got some scissors in here." But it couldn't be possible! My stomach sank, and I wailed, "no, no, no, no, no!" MB tried to comfort me, and the screener said, "There's a place where you can mail them, right there." But I didn't want to mail them. I wanted to be able to play with them the moment I got home! Meanwhile, the screener had found them, and he takes out this whopping huge pair of shears. It was so funny, because I had expected him to pull out the tiny scissors--you can see forgetting those when you pack, but shears? I started laughing when he held them up, partly in relief. "Take them home to your wife," said I in my most generous but apparently, and suddenly, sexist spirit.

*Fondling, it's not like molesting children, but MB and I started using the term at the Spirit of Cross-stitch Festivals after our binge-spending. It involves bringing all your new acquisitions to a place where you can spread them out, usually a hotel room with two queen-sized beds. You take everything out and spread it around you while you sit on the bed. You then take turns showing your new things. Then, you open up the packages and take out the different bits and bobs and play with them: stroke the fabric, sort the flosses, touch the unique fibers, spread the flosses adn beads out on the fabric, etc. You know, you've done it, you just didn't call it that.

I've suspended the comments feature while I decide what to do about it. Thanks for understanding. Of course you can e-mail me at annavsxsATyahooDOTcom

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