Fiber Dreams

I rarely do it, but I’ve done it. I’ve quit reading Vanity Fair, put it down for an indefinite period of time. It’s not that it’s a bad book, in fact I’ve been enjoying the story, I’m simply frustrated by the author’s continual asides to the reader, some of which go on for pages without adding anything of note to the progress of the story. He tells how he could have written the story, how things might have happened if he’d done it differently, but he didn’t, and he finally resumes where he’d so rudely left off. I haven’t been in college for a good many years, so I don’t have to suffer through all 670 pages of it. Fact is, after nearly a week, I’m only to page 129. At this rate it would take more than a month to read the offensive missive, and it simply isn’t worth it to me. When reading Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice I read 75, 100, or more pages daily. Life is too short to read things that don’t bring pleasure, especially when your grade doesn’t depend on it.

In place of Vanity Fair, I have turned to another class, Henry James’ A Portrait of a Lady. I started it last night, in bed, and so far I’ve already gotten to page 27. I’m completely engaged by the story, and can’t wait to continue.

Kristie asked me to share where I store my embroidery floss. I don’t think she realized what she was getting herself in for. It’s rather a loaded question. I can’t show you where I store my floss without showing you a bunch of other things as well.

Here you have it. In the corner of my home office is this stack of six DMC cabinets: the five that Dave gave to me our first Christmas together—I knew he was a keeper—and the one I acquired some time later. It’s hiding behind Ricki’s well-loved scratching post, an old Singer sewing machine (in case), the cabinet to my aunt’s treadle sewing machine (she sold the machine as her contribution to the new electric one her father bought her) with her most recent sewing machine on top, and other miscellaneous stuff. On top we find a pretty green vase that was a gift from a friend, a basket with spindles, darning eggs, etc., an old wood box, and a seashell I’ve had since I was a child.

From the top, we have two drawers of hand-knitting supplies. The first has circular and double pointed needles, and a needle gauge. The other has mostly straight needles, the size 35 circulars, an old needle set from a thrift store, and a peg board for keeping track of rows, increases, etc. The next two drawers are cross stitch fabric, organized by thread count. Did you know I have a knitting machine? I do. A fairly nice one that dear Dave bought for me a while back. It’s been put away until I have time to mess with it, really learn to use it, that sort of thing. I had it out for a while. The toys for it are here.

I have the immense honor of being caretaker of two pairs of pinking shears, both kept inside their original boxes. Yes, honor. The first pair belonged to my grandmother. She owned and used them for many years. Inside the box, along with the shears and a small piece of fabric with an advertisement from the manufacturer, is a small envelope, yellowed with age. On the front of the envelope, written in a childish fist, are the words:

Dear Mama
this my [there’s a rather good drawing of a four-holed button] it came off my blue pances

On the back, grandma wrote my dad’s name, and noted that he was ten years old. It’s difficult for most of us to imagine our parents as children. How wonderful it is to have this small glimpse at my father when he was only ten.

The other pair of pinking shears belong to my aunt, the one who gave me her old treadle-machine cabinet. Also in that drawer is some thread, and Grandma’s thimble.

Moving along, there’s a drawer filled with ribbon, mostly on spools. I vaguely remember having purchased this ribbon, on sale, years ago. I don’t need ribbon very often, but here is my supply, waiting patiently.

Next is another trip down memory lane, in a drawer filled mostly with Grandma’s buttons, or what’s left of them. She used to have a lot more. A lot more. I don’t know what happened to them, but they were gone by the time I moved into her house. I’ve kept a number of things just the way Grandma had them, including the tubes of matching buttons. Wasn’t she marvelous? You can see my old Kodak instamatic, the one that took 110 film and used a flash-cube. It has a rubber band around it, as at some point it stopped staying shut without it. There are a couple of tape measures in there, and a bag of lavender buds. I always love opening that drawer—it smells of spring.

We finally get to the embroidery floss. What’s not in floss boxes, used for current projects, waits here, in these two drawers. I don’t have all of DMC’s colors, but I have most of them. Almost all of my floss is neatly wound on cardboard cards, and kept in numerical order so I can find it in a jiff.

The next drawer has small, finished cross stitch projects, lying mostly flat, waiting to have something done to them, framing or whatever. The old DMC floss sample book is there, the one that Dave bought for me one Christmas—Isn’t he thoughtful?—as well as some fabric I got to finish off a Mary Engelbreit cross stitch project I did years ago now, and have never, well, finished.

Then there’s this drawer. I almost never open this one. See that old brown box with the single piece of yarn tied around it? Inside that box are the supplies I bought to make some plastic canvas coasters for my cousin. By the time he got out of the army, he was so tired of green he could puke. And he liked the coasters I’d made for myself. I vowed to myself I’d make some for him, in brilliant red. I bought the stuff to do it, but by then I was tired of plastic canvas, had finals, blah, blah, blah. Needless to say, that’s another project that I never got around to. Then my cousin went and died on me. The box is somewhat of a memorial to him at this point; you know, sacred ground and all that. I don’t go into it. It sits there unopened, and unopenable.

On to happier drawers: the beads and metallics I use for cross stitch. Yum. As a child I fell in love with tiny, sparkly little beads, and I’ve never gotten over it. I’ve been known to buy a pack simply because I like the color. Most are unopened, but one never knows when I’ll need to use them. They’re ready. The metallics are sorted by size: #4 braid, #8 braid, blending filament, and so forth.

Next down: embroidery hoops. Most of my hoops I’ve had since I was a child, and they weren’t new then. My two favorites are the oval one on top, and a new, five inch diameter one that a girlfriend bought for me as a treat. Also in the drawer, extra skeins of DMC floss.

This is the resting place of a bell pull that I will never finish. It’s a picture of blue morning glories with a nice border. But it’s on Aida, and I abhor it. I’ll never finish it. It was a kit I got eons ago, just before I discovered the joy of stitching on even­weave. Also in the drawer, the remnants of a beaded snowflake-making project, and a few odds and ends. Next down has manuals for my two sewing machines, and the bottom drawer has a few fabrics set aside for finishing other cross stitch projects.

There you go, Kristie. I hope you like your answer.

P.S. I saw this on Julia’s blog this morning… Regia has announced a new line of sock yarn, colors inspired by Kaffe Fassett. Can’t wait to see it in person!

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