True stories... only funnier.
With love, from
I think I crochet to hold the "gray goo-eee" matter inside my "bone-eee" housing on the end of that "segmented" stick coming out between my shoulders otherwise it would dribble out my nose.At least that what I am thinking right now as I peer through the mesh of *ch 1, dc, ch1* repeat to top.Miss Em ... ;~D
I think I quilt or stitch because... it is not chaotic. It is structured and I know how it will come out, nearly every time. There is no guesswork, balls from left field are not thrown at me... I know what will happen at the end.
I don't crochet. Swore it off way back. My Mom tried to teach me. She had four children and my Dad worked about 120 hours a week.She did a lot of art-work stuff, and I really didn't understand why so much. But now I do.I really do. It's kinda like why I drink too much beer, and scalp the lawn with the weed-eater, instead of just using the mower.It's my craft...
I recited this phrase to The Husband last week and he said it was one of the saddest things he's ever heard me say. - December 23, 3015
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