Memoirs
I have a mind like a steel sieve -- it traps all the wrong things, and lets the good stuff wash on through. For instance, I am never forget the baby blanket I made for A's daughter L, which serves as a chair pad for me, because, um, well, washing & blocking turned into accidental fulling. Or the red lace (feather-and-fan) hat and scarf I made for R(ED)... that the Post Offal lost. And then there's yesterday's story, LOL.
Aside from my infant-level of object permanence awareness, you just never know what will touch a person. I've been meaning to send a(nother) thank-you note -- an anniversary thank-you note -- to one of my mother's dear friends, with a photo of the tea caddy she gave me at high school graduation. Which I still use for my favorite tea, and which brings back memories of her & home & her kids &&&& every time I see it / touch it / use it.
So, here I am to ask -- have I made you something? Do you still have it? Do you like it? Can you post a picture of it in my comments here (so I can be reminded in the 4-am barometric-pressure-crashing hours that I don't completely & entirely suck as an artist & a friend & a generally sort of decent human being)?
Aside from my infant-level of object permanence awareness, you just never know what will touch a person. I've been meaning to send a(nother) thank-you note -- an anniversary thank-you note -- to one of my mother's dear friends, with a photo of the tea caddy she gave me at high school graduation. Which I still use for my favorite tea, and which brings back memories of her & home & her kids &&&& every time I see it / touch it / use it.
So, here I am to ask -- have I made you something? Do you still have it? Do you like it? Can you post a picture of it in my comments here (so I can be reminded in the 4-am barometric-pressure-crashing hours that I don't completely & entirely suck as an artist & a friend & a generally sort of decent human being)?