Things. That. Weigh. Heavily.
I’m not talking about the rise of tyranny around the globe, the shameless demagoguery of racist GOP Senators, or the horror show of Ukraine. I’m talking about unfinished quilts, books I have purchased but not yet read, and inherited and collected stuff that needs sorted.
Also yesterday I made the mistake of reading a few sections of a journal from 1995. Whew! Fortunately this is not a forum to discuss such matters but let me just say I see the value of re-instituting a practice of self-forgiveness.
These are mostly first world problems and they exist in a terrain of gratitude, but they also are harsh enough to create a choking sensation.
So today I picked one particularly bothersome unfinished quilt and resumed work on it. Because I can. Because it’s do-able. It’s a loosely-patterned log cabin in blues and greens, sized for a couch. It’s intended for D. Part of why it’s been languishing is that in several places I pleated the back by accident. Ugh. Initially, I started unpicking but got discouraged and gave it up.
I’ve decided to keep going and sew right over the pleats and then create a new back instead. It’s not a great fix, but the result will be functional and pretty enough.
This involved clearing off the work surface, threading the machine and bobbin with new thread, and finding my grippy-gloves.