More of the same

I haven’t had much to say, lately.  I am generally fine, the days go by and I feel a bit discontent, cranky at being tired and sick all the time, still, over being cold.  But when I stop and consider what I would write, it all seems so blah, more whinging when actually, I feel lucky to be where I am in my life.  Or else it’s been a bad day, and I really really don’t want to open that floodgate.

Empty by you.

Does it look cold?  That’s cos it WAS!

I realised mid last week that it was six months Since.  I also realised, that I never, in my head, say Since what, exactly.  Because it isn’t exact.  It’s Since whatever is bothering me that week.

Since my father chose not to be a part of our lives.

Since things got harder with my mother.

Since we had to move.

Since some good things, too – that time, you know?  The feel of it is what is in my head when I think of Since.

And After.  Sometimes I am talking and I will say ‘right After’ like that, with a capital.  Then I realise the person I’m talking too probably doesn’t know what I mean, and I have to go back and say – what, what do I say?  Usually it’s ‘After the stuff with my dad’ or ‘After the shit went down’.  So vague.  But it seems too small to say ‘after my dad died’ and too uncomfortable to say ‘after he killed himself’.  That’s not really what I mean, anyway.  After my whole life changed, forever.  You don’t just drop that one into conversation!

Clouds by you.

Well, anyhow.  I realised it’s been six months Since, and I hadn’t noticed. 

It’s been a hard couple of weeks, though.  The idea of socialising literally makes me want to run away and hide – and that’s pretty much what I’ve been doing.  Hiding.  It’s nice that I can, but it’s also pretty darned boring.  Especially since it’s so cold, all there is to do is huddle by the fire.  And knit, I suppose, but although I haven’t lost my mojo, I’m not being lit on fire by any of my projects at the moment. 

But this morning, after I had done some tidying, put some laundry on, I was puttering around my study, putting things away.  And I got cross with my needles.  As one does.

See, I bought a bunch of bamboo DPNs on ebay.  10mm to I think 2mm.  15cm long.  Too many to fit in my needle roll that I bought off etsy, many moons ago.  So they were sitting in a pile in my stash shelves, looking untidy, sliding around.  And I thought ‘I need a new needle roll.’

Then I looked at my sewing machine, which I’d just moved into a more accessable position and I thought ‘… I could make a needle roll.’

Pinning by you.

So I did.  It’s not perfect, not close.  But I thought of it, and then I sat down and did it.  I made a thing, where before there was not that thing.  I forgot how good that feels!

Chrisanthemum by you.

There’s something thrilling about those chalk marks.

Can I tell you how much I love that ‘mum?  Lots.  That’s how much.

The fabric is from a big (obviously handmade) pillowcase that my sister saw in an op shop and bought for me, because it’s my colours.  As demonstrated by the fact that it exactly matches my favourite handbag:

Matchinks, closer by you.

I am pleased it didn’t go into my stash to marinate.  I am pleased that I DID something with it!  I am pleased that I like it, and I had fun making it.

Ironed by you.

If I did it again, I would make the rows closer, so they sit on top of each other more.  I would make the flap at the top longer.  And I wouldn’t be stupid and sew the tab I was going to use as a clasp on the inside of the thing.  DUH. 

However, it is made, and it WORKS!  And I did it all myself in about an hour.  I am pleased as punch.

Stick a fork in it by you.

Now what else can I make?

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