I took a car photo last Sunday, thinking to build a post around it. I was stitching hexagons together, moving on, after some months, from just the stitching of the hexies themselves. And I am already on the fourth panel of my rice bag. I like them. Stitching them together was initially daunting. The piecing of individuals into rows is no biggie, but the piecing of the rows together … all those twisty points into corners. Well, I am proficient now, and the accomplishment of a neatly stitched corner is gratifying.
But a paragraph is not a post. What next?
I am blocked, as the writers say, by the only thing on my mind just now. To hell with it … here is the rest of the post.
And fondly I am remembering the Sunday in the Car, as the succeeding week has been just filthy. The office mate has developed a sinus condition. And now I get to listen to her making incessantly groady noises down the back of my neck all goddamn day long. Further, there has been no where near a full day’s work to do lately, which inclines me to obsess over the disturbance.
So unpleasant it has been, that when an opportunity to play hooky presented itself, I took it. On the fourth Wednesday of the month, a person may attend a session of “Open Quilting” in the church basement of Albany Methodist. And so I said, “bugger the office” and went … only for a couple of hours. Just sitting there, stitching, listening to the ladies yammer, was very soothing. I did get into the office before noon, but the break did me a world of good. And there was a youngster, a student film-maker. I told her about “The Quilters, Women and Domestic Art” a really splendid oral history taken of ladies dragged out onto the Texas panhandle by their parents in the very early 20th century to live in dugouts and re-purpose (as we now say) every scrap; originally published in 1977, and reissued !! I discovered just now, in 1999. This book was one of my early inspirations and, I also never knew, the inspiration for a Broadway play. (I have spent my life not paying attention.) And I let the youngster film me stitching.
Then, Friday … Friday, is the very best. I get in and the office mate tells me she’s leaving at 2:30 for a doctor’s appointment. Joyous! One, she is leaving early. I do just generally love it when she is gone, for whatever reason. A lunchtime jaunt fills me with contentment. Two, she may not be a totally oblivious person (you know there was a different word right there), and might actually be going to take medical consultation over the goddamn post nasal drip I got to listen to all week. And then, a half hour later, she says, no … she isn’t going to the doctor today, after all. I did so want to rip her face off her skull. And if she’s not going to leave early today, maybe I will.
I seriously contemplate pitching a reduction to hourly status, and some seriously reduced attendance.
An Old Knitty Lady 