I say this a lot these days, but for me, sewing has replaced the need in my life that writing used to fill. They are very similar beasts. To be more accurate, I guess, sewing is kinda like solving the Jumble (something I actually dislike and do very, very badly). You start with all these bits and pieces that you have to jigger together to make into something cohesive and beautiful. And you can make it more challenging, more complex. (Patterns? Who needs patterns?) So sort of like a poem you can feel with your heart and your hands. And you can put the sewing down when you hear that ominous crash in the kitchen and pick it right back up when you have a few free minutes, which is by far the biggest draw for little house-wiferly things like me (Ha. Donna Ried is rolling in her proverbial grave at the sad state of my kitchen sink. But you know what I mean.)
So this is what I would call a poem not yet fit for magazine submission. It was awfully, awfully fun to cut into all that Good Folks. (And can I just pause here and say that the oranges, blues and yellows in this line are amazing? Saturated color. It just gets me right in the chest.) But I realized when I got home I should have gotten a different color of that honeycomb print, and I really, really really wanted to work in the blue, so I just kept adding and adding until I had used practically every print in the line in one top. It kinda hurts my head to look at it too long-- it is definitely too busy to put on a wee little body. And the pattern, which I was making up as I went along, definitely needs some tweaking. Process over Product, my dears (mantra of the Montessorians). But oh, how wonderful, those hours spent putting all the little pieces together.
PS-- I'm going to apologize right now for any bad photography. Not much is happening before 11 pm around here these days. Somebody is trying to go and get all big-boy on me. Teeth, I tell you. If you spot a very short, very fat young man with one southeast dimple and the most kissable cankles ever, would you please tell him to stop growing up. Thank you very much.