Isn't this fabulous?!! This is one of Chrissy's Happy Dances....Laura J. Perin's "Rambling Rose". Chrissy used Watercolors in "Cherry Cordial" and that wonderful chocolaty brown DMC #3371. I confess that this was the inspiration for my blackwork piece done in the chocolate and pink.
Now for bigger confessions.....Since June 6th (my very first post), I have definitely been bogarting all of the stitchy attention in our little family. The truth of the matter is that I feel very very bad about this, especially since it is all Chrissy's doing that I am even a stitcher in the first damn place.
Chrissy started stitching in the womb, I think. I know that when she was a little girl, she would watch mom needlepoint and that one of her very first projects was a little rabbit with the letter "R" on it. I think it was pink. I don't remember other things that Chrissy might have stitched when she was little, because I was too busy hogging all of the attention in the universe as the BIG SISTER WHO MUST BE WORSHIPED ACCORDINGLY.
When she was about 17 or so (at least I'm hoping I get these ages right), she worked for a doctor who happened to be a spinal surgeon. When he was in surgery, his office staff had enough free time that they could craft and sew and stitch. So Chrissy learned to use a sewing machine (something I still can't do), craft, and stitch. She picked up a few kits with DMC floss and Aida and away she went.
Her very favorite place in the whole world was a shop called "In Stitches" in Phoenix. I'm pretty sure that Chrissy spent almost every moment of her free time there, as well as a good portion of every paycheck. She was living with Dad at the time, so I would bet that there were a lot of nights when she be-bopped over to the store after work.
When she moved into an apartment, I happened to be in Phoenix, and Dad and I went to "help". At one point, Dad pulled me aside and said "CJ, I'm so worried about your sister. I think she has a drug problem. When she lived with me, she would come home with bags and go straight to her room, and she wouldn't come out for days at a time. Now there are all of these boxes, and I can't figure out what's in them. She never has any money, she's in her room all the time, and sometimes she disappears for hours and I have no idea where's she's gone." Just as I was peeking into one of the "boxes", Chrissy came up and said "Dad, all of that stuff is my stitching. I'm not drinking it, I'm not smoking it, I'm not sitting on a bar stool next to it, and I'm not sleeping with it." When she walked away, I thought Dad was going to keel over from relief. He never said a word again about her stitching or her stash. (Oh, yeah, BTW, the drinking, smoking, barstooling, and sleeping with it all came later, but that's another story for another day.)
So over the years, my sister developed into quite a needlewoman. Her first passion is counted cross stitch, and she would probably give her right arm for a trip to Shepard's Bush. Someday I hope I can take her there. She loves Shepard's Bush. Always has. Always will. She also does counted canvas work (as is evidenced by the LJP above), needlepoint, and hardanger. Well...not hardanger. She hated hardanger and swore at me for a month because I made her take a class with me.
I think the thing that most fascinates me about my sister and he stitching is that it is just not something I would think she would enjoy. My sister is....well....how can I say this nicely?....just not the most PATIENT person in the world. She's pretty high energy, high stress, high maintenance, and high anxiety most of the time. She's not one to just sit quietly and enjoy quiet. Or peace. Or calm. She's either yelling at the dog or stressing over the state of her aluminum siding, or bitching about something that happened at work. But you put a needle in her hand and she shuts right up and becomes a Zen Freakin' Master.
Like I said, I feel like a boob that I get all of the stitchy attention. I have adopted stitching as a passion now too, but I really feel like I came in and plopped myself right in the middle of her parade. I'm like the big ugly-ass float that you see in the Rose Parade every year and you wonder why the hell they let that thing in there and then you find out that the designer was the sister of the committee chairperson.
I'm trying to convince her to start a blog, I really am. She doesn't seem to be too keen on the idea, but I am assuming that a letter-writing campaign will do the trick. Or maybe a telethon. Either way, please stay tuned for more on my Stitchy Sister, since I think her stuff really needs to be shared with the universe.
As for me.....I made very very little progress on Witchy Wash last night. I don't know what my problem is with this, but every single stinkin' strand of Weeks Dye Works I've picked up in the last 48 hours has twisted and knotted beyond belief. Hmmmm. Maybe I need to switch to something else for a bit. Must be the moon."I'm so exhausted from all of this convention coverage. Why can't I be a simpleton like my mother and watch re-runs of "Sex and the City" instead?"