Earlier today I finished the second day of a wonderful two-day class with Barbara Jackson of Tristan Brooks.
And Dearly Beloved and I have been in Williamsburg for three days now.
With no responsibilities--no job, no meals to cook, no house to clean--you'd think I'd have stitched my little fingers to the bone.
Not so much.
I never stitch much at stitching events. It's contrary to everything one would expect. After all, I had the opportunity to stitch for at least 12 hours in class, plus evenings in the room. What I have accomplished is one petal on Jackie du Plessis' Rhapsody in Blue (the project I brought to work on before the event began) and about three steps out of umpty-leven on Barbara's Sweet Heart of Mine project.
Now, give me that much time at home in the wing chair, with my feet propped on the ottoman and a couple of movies to listen to on the DVR, I would have had all of the stitching for Rhapsody done and one whole panel of the stitching case for Sweet Heart of Mine completed. I know this.
Apparently I have become old and set in my ways. If I don't have my chair, my lights just in the right position, my scissors in the correct spot, my ort jar handy, the stand for my charts positioned just so, my big cushion at my back and my feet up instead of down, I can't stitch.
Dearly Beloved just said it has nothing to do with increasing age and decrepitude. He reminds me of a workshop I took over 15 years ago for which I had done about 40 hours of pre work--then I went to the workshop, stitched in class for two days and in the hotel room the evening between class sessions--and came home with a motif that measured about 1 1/2" square. He learned in that one moment to never, ever, EVER ask, "Is that all you got done?"
Because, obviously, it is.