It all started innocently enough. I was happily stitching away when I noticed that all of my scissors are nekkid. Nope. Not a thing on them. Not a fob or a keep or a wee little biscornu in sight.
So I got all patriotic-like and decided to stitch a little something for my Gingher Freedoms (or maybe they're Glorys, I can't remember.)
But I digress.
I used a borrowed Shepard's Bush chart from Chrissy and came up with a little stitchy piece that seemed to be the perfect size for what I envisioned.
That's always the fatal flaw, isn't it? What one envisions and what one is able to execute are often not remotely on the same planet.
Considering the infamous GLUE GUN INCIDENT of 2006 I suppose I was already taking my life into my hands by even attempting such a thing, but I got it into my head that I could make a lovely little scissor keep.
I give you exhibit A:
The thing on the left is supposed to be scissor keep. I say supposed to be, because, as you can plainly see, there isn't a keep on the damn thing. As a matter of fact, the only thing this KEEP is KEEPING is a lot of fabric glue and about eighteen feet of really crappy twisted perle cotton that is trying desperately to be cording.
But did I give up, go downstairs, regain my senses and forget about this little disaster? Absolutely not. In the spirit of all that is stitchy and holy, I proceeded to make this:
"Well, gosh Coni", you say behind your horrified expression. "It's not THAT bad."
Oh yeah? Well, take a look at the back of it that I couldn't even photograph clearly because it was SO crappy the the camera simply refused to focus on it:
Yup, you guessed it. More glue and even more facacta cording. Only this time, just to make it interesting, I decided to put some pins in it to make it really REALLY pretty.
Oh. My. God. The tragedy that was this finishing session will follow me forever. The stench of failure is so heavy in the air that I am simply gasping for breath and wishing for the sweet release of unconsciousness.
Never, never, never again.