Here is a photo of how much I have accomplished on my cross stitch. I am working on the white of his chest, and I long to get to the colored part of the central cat. Just thought I would like a record of my progress from time to time.
The blue fabric around the outside of the hoop is a grime guard, it keeps the fabric clean from hand oil, etc. and tucks the excess fabric out of the way so it isn't accidentally stitched in on the back. Ask me how I know. I am using my favorite needle, it was originally a needlepoint needle, until I filed off the sharp point, so now I have a cross stitch needle that is 2 inches long, instead of the purchased ones that are 1 1/2 inches long. No good for big fingers. When I was working for Dr. A as a research assistant, he had minimal supplies, and I had always worked in an established lab that was equipped with everything to start with. Anyway, I wrote up an order for XL disposable gloves, since all he had was Medium. When he saw the order, he said, "I don't think your hands are bigger than mine" so I held out my hand and he held out his, and I plainly had the larger hands. He let me order them, huzah. He was a jerk, anyway, and when I got my lab safety compliance job, I danced out of the lab, I was so thrilled. And when I did lab inspections for that department, I was extremely picky about everything in his lab, so there. Karma.
Anyway, cross stitching. I find it quite soothing, as long as I am not making a mistake that has to be ripped out. Minor mistakes I chalk up to unique features I included. For instance, there are places on the cat's tummy where I have used light gray instead of very light gray, and who is to know? I can't find them, even knowing where they are. One of a kind.
Oh, and the red grid, stitched with red monofilament line, is an enormous help in counting, and when I am done, I will just pull the strands out and they disappear. I wish I had known about gridding years ago.
The neighbors are having a party in honor of the oldest graduating high school, and we are invited. My son made excuses for me (I would have to walk over lumpy bits of yard) but the father came over and invited us specifically, so C has to go, at least for a while. For sure they will have yummy food. At least so far there is no loud music. When the original family lived there, they would have loud drunken parties, and although I liked the family, the parties were too much. N would go, but I know they thought he was hen-pecked, that I would make him come home in a short while. Nothing could be farther from the truth, he hated drunks, but if I was his excuse it was OK with me.
I'm hoping C brings me a plate when he comes back.
Peace!
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