In my part of the world we say you are a fool if your passion for a pursuit overcomes all practical sense. I am a stitching fool, and I stitch foolishness.

Sunday, July 28, 2024

Spiraling

 I really am going to talk about stitching, but I have to take you on a trip down memory lane to get there.

I was a child in the 50's--I know, ancient history. At that time, foul language (aka "technical terms") or cuss words were simply not heard or allowed in polite society. When my father needed to express distress, he usually said "dagnabbit" or "dadgummit." My paternal grandmother would say "Heavens to Betsy" or, if the situation was especially dire, "Merciful Heavens." Mother never said anything--she would just huff quietly.

But my maternal grandmother, who was perpetually angry about something or another, would mutter under her breath, "Oh, the dibble."

The what?

I asked Mother once what a dibble was. She told me to look for it in the dictionary. It wasn't there.

Anyway, one summer The Saint, my two older cousins, and I were all at Grandma's for a week. I have no earthly idea why we would all be there at the same time. Grandma didn't particularly like children and really didn't want to spend time with any, but there we were.

It had been one of those days when "Oh, the dibble" had been uttered more than usual and we had been sent outside. The subject of dibbles came up. We were all confused and bemused by the term. My cousin Wylie, who was very quiet, but who had ears like a fox, said he was going to try to find out. He went back inside, where he apparently startled Grandma into a dibble fit and she had sent him back outside immediately.

"She isn't saying dibble," he reported  "She's saying, 'Oh, the devil.'"

Well, calling the name of Old Scratch was just about as bad as any cuss word we could imagine, and to realize our strict and stern Calvinist Presbyterian grandmother was invoking his name was more than we could comprehend. I do recall we were all on our best behavior the rest of the week.

And what does this have to do with my needlework?

There are 34 spiral trellis stitches on this half of the stitching book. I thought, maybe I could frame up the other piece of linen and do the accessory bits before I tackled the 34 spiral trellis stitches for the other side. Then I looked at the charts.

And almost every single additional part of this project also has at least one, if not more, spiral trellis stitches included.

I have only one thing to say about that.

Oh, the dibble!

4 comments:

  1. Oh Ann, that's so funny , don't get mad , see the funny side , you will soon sort it , hugs June,

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  2. I'm a child of the 50's too and I loved your story this morning, it sure made me laugh. To hear our parents or grandparents swear in those days was so rare, it really meant something, unlike today when every other word begins with an 'f'.

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  3. Oh Ann, I loved your story. Good luck with those spiraling trellis stitches.

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  4. Ann, I so enjoy your posts! I never heard my Dad curse, but my Mom would resort to "Oh fudge"!!! Good luck with the trellises....my sticthing nemesis!

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