The Needlework Gene

This morning as I lay in bed thinking about getting up, Roy looked over and said, Each morning when I look at you and realize you're mine? It's like winning the lottery every single day.

I laughed. Out loud. That was a good one.

Yesterday was quite a day. It was busy, filled with work and getting the girls off (though I didn't do much regarding that) and taking and picking up Jace at a friend's, and cooking and ...well, all kinds of business. I worked on my scarf as I'm learning to knit....then ripped out everything that I did as somewhere I dropped a stitch and it seemed to get progressively worse. That's such a me thing. I genuinely love needlework whether it be crocheting or knitting ... but I'm not that great. Everything has holes where it shouldn't or uneven edges; stitches that look like a variety of different stitches when really they are all the same...

Somehow I missed the artsy gene when it comes to that sort of thing. But you gotta give me credit: I keep trying!

When I was born, I was born on my great aunt's birthday: Aunt Lena. And so she started sending me a birthday gift each year. Oh how I loved her gifts. She spared no expense and searched out the latest and greatest for kids my age: a trendy bracelet, a trendy outfit, etc. She picked out the best stuff. But when I was 18 years old, she said she was done (and rightfully so), and from that time on, she called me on my birthday. She passed away about a year ago, but my Aunt Lena? She was somethin' special. She made such a difference in my life.

Anyway, when Roy and I first got married, I decided I wanted to do something really special for Aunt Lena to let her know how much she meant to me. And so, for whatever reason, I purchased a needlework craft. It was a picture of a little girl with a hat on her head walking through a lush garden of flowers, carrying a basket filled with a variety of flowers. It was beautiful; exquisite. Why in the word I thought I could go from being utterly inexperienced to completing this picture that required lots of knowledge of different stitchery and hours of time is beyond me.

It tok me about five years to finish the picture. And by the time I got it done, I'd lost interest in sending it to Aunt Lena. I have no idea why...but at the time I completed it, we lived in California near my sister Lori. I'll take it! she said, and she did. She had it professionally framed and to this day it hangs in her home.

It's beautiful actually--as long as you look at it from a distance.

I've started another needlework since then. I've had it for years now; in fact, it's sitting in my entranceway closet on the top shelf. Everytime I open that door to grab something inside, I see it and think I should finish that.

Every single time.

But? I won't. I'm over it. I'd rather knit a scarf with holes that aren't in the pattern and uneven sides. Unlike Roy, I'm not a perfectionist.

Obviously.

I admire those people who are crafty and everything they touch turns to gold. I don't get it. Laurie Worth is one of those people. How does she know  how to fix dropped stitches without tearing the whole thing out? That baffles me. Why does everything she makes look store bought when mine looks...well...homemade? 

If I told her this, she would say You just need to practice. But I know the truth. I could practice all day long and it would still look homemade.

I don't have the needlework gene. It bypassed me and went straight to Savana. This weekend when she was home, she showed me all of her crafty little things that she has knitted this past two weeks. She made me an infinity scarf that is beautiful; she just has to sew the ends together. It's elegant with its perfectly formed stitches. And now she is working on a blanket comprised of lots of little shapes that she stuffs with filling and then puts them together. They are adorable and creative. I said, So when you drop a stitch, do you know how to fix it? Of course!, she replied, as though that was a ridiculous question.

But that's okay. I'll keep trying. And maybe one of these days I'll have a nine foot scarf completed--comprised of holes that aren't in the pattern and uneven edges.

Maybe I'll give it to my sister.