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Not Crafty
If I've seemed terse lately, it is probably the needlepoint. Years ago, my mother-in-law indoctrinated me into her favorite hobby and I have become a dabbler. I go through spates of working diligently on something or other for evenings at a time and then amnesia sets in and I forget I even started it.
I always figured I was participating in a great tradition of unfinished handiwork. Nancy Mitford showed the true advantages of this sort of neglect in her essay "The Shooting Party: Some Hints for the Woman Guest" (1930)
"For a woman who stays much in country houses, `work' of some sort is indispensable. You probably never touch it at home and most likely have only the vaguest idea of how it should be done, but if it is well begun for you at some school of needlework you can always muddle along with the background. As a barricade and as a topic of conversation it is an invaluable asset. When you are asked to go for a walk, play bridge, or so anything else that you particularly dislike, you can entrench yourself behind it. `My dear, I MUST get on with this wretched work, it is for mother's birthday and I don't see HOW it is to be finished in time.' Should your hostess remember it from last year, and be tactless enough to say so, you answer airily, `Oh! That was finished ages ago, I'm doing the companion chair now, it's quite different if you look into it.'"
This is about my speed.
But recently I found myself in a needlepoint-on-demand situation. A bunch of us were enlisted to work on a secret family project about ten months ago. I picked up my panel back when the weather was just turning warm, certain that it would be a cinch, and then I lifted my head, panting after finishing a big work thing in between Holiday Events, and realized that matters were dire. (I wasn't alone, by the way. My companions in needlework were in the same boat and I only finished because of a little email roundabout that forced me onward, ever onward into a great sleep deficit.)
I've never been one for crafts. I can knit and I can purl, but I can't cast off, so all I know how to do is make a scarf in progress. Having a baby did not make me more inclined to be handy. I know some people who were really galvanized by motherhood, who became really good cooks and taught themselves how to sew and stencil or design stationery and paint murals. I just became more like myself.
I can manage the odd, low-pressure pillow. Pictured above something I did for someone a while ago. It was supposed to be for her late summer birthday. I managed it for Christmas. I was hoping she could leave it on her couch during parties as an encouragement to her guests to cut loose.
Of course my next project is to recover a threadbare piano bench, which I hope to do by the time Felix is able to do something compelling with a piano.
posted by Elise at 3:49 PM
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