.... for a change?
No, I get no credit. This lovely piece was done by my needlepointing buddy, Jennifer for her youngest nephew.
Isn't it cool? It's an honor piece -- her grandfather owned a Phillips 66 station so she adjusted the canvas to include that for little Ezra. Aren't the tires cool? They are O-rings and the hub caps are metal washers. (I know, I know. not "washers" but that's the word that's stuck in my brain right now.)
My stitching, you ask? well, I can't show you. It's a gift. Sorry. I'm hoping you'll get to see it in a couple weeks. Cross your fingers -- it's one of those 6 million color changes pieces. Sigh. You know how I feel about color changes, but the piece is absolutely perfect for the person who is going to get it so I'll just have to suck it up and deal.
I must admit that I have yet another new obsession. I bought a cataloging program for my own books. I've been working fairly assiduously with it most evening for a couple weeks now and so far I've only managed to get about 300 items input. I would therefore like to take this opportunity to tell catalogers everywhere that while I still think they are nuts, they have my deep respect. Sheesh this is a pain. Ok, I admit I make this harder because I input every short story in anthologies rather than just the volume title, but I do love my short fiction so I can't really help myself there. At this rate this cataloging "fun" could take me 20 years-- with only one author exception, everything I've put in has come from the shelves next to my bed in The Hovel. And those are just the tip of The Hovel iceberg. And, in turn, The Hovel iceberg is merely a snowflake in the ice age of volumes I have boxed in storage. Sigh. At least I know if I get quarantined for something I can have plenty to do while I sit at home.
Gotta run -- wishing you well.... as usual.