Nary a stitch . . .

Not a single one was stitched this past week-end.

I had planned to do some intense finish-finishing. However, I didn't sleep well--not a good thing when you need to concentrate and deal with a new sewing machine that still has bells and whistles I haven't tried yet. Then it was gray, gloomy, damp, and cold. This is supposed to be the sunny South and I was wearing a turtleneck and a heavy sweater with an afghan wrapped around me.

I caught up on the stack of magazines by the wing chair. We went to see Iron Man 3. We did Chinese take-out. I let my brain get sucked out by the innerwebs. And all of a sudden the week-end was over.

However, tonight was different.

Recognize this?  Martha Edlin has come out to play. And I think I'm obsessed with her again.

I had so much momentum going when I ran out of white silk, then it took awhile for the new spool to arrive, then I went to Jeannine's, then came home to be distracted by other things. But, oh, my, I pulled Martha out of her pillowcase and that was it.

So please excuse me while I thread up another needle and get back to Martha.