I made this for a co-worker. Our annual gift exchange is this evening and, with the way things have been going around threadingwater acres, I didn’t even begin this project until last Sunday.
Deadlines. My current best friend. If only I could impose them upon myself, then one day you might get to see the kimono top I’ve been working on since summer; silk from Vietnam (thank you stepson), matched with hand-dyed, batiked rayon and hand-pieced with faggoting.
Faggoting. I’ve loved that word for forever. Always makes me think of Dickens’ grimy London and people scrounging for faggots. Of course, that’s an entirely different definition of the word that means twigs or other small wood kindling for a fire. Not at all like faggoting in sewing terms.
Don’t mind me. Just rambling today. Feel free to continue this dissociative thread in comments.