Idle hands

So it gets dark real early and I feel a little guilty that my solution to long winter nights is "more 30 Rock". Ack, Season 2 is so weird/bad!

Back in the 1980s my ancestors didn't allow so much television. We would wind up the Victrola and put on crazy antique records (that we knew all the words to), or read from old limerick books from the library, or pop popcorn in a skillet over the fire. People with those electric popping machines were like astronauts to me.



Or the four of us girls would antagonize each other and end up in a heap of long flannel nightgowns. And lest you think I'm confusing my childhood with Little Women, we did not travel by wagon although my ma did pick us up from school on horseback occasionally. Smack in the middle of San Diego. My mom's desire to hold back the sands of time with her bony, Puritanical hands knew no bounds....




Later, of course, I snuck French novels and (more contraband than drugs) Seventeen magazines out of the library and spent many an eve learning the ins and outs of being a French courtisan and keeping my skin soft with homemade yogurt masks. Also, French kissing, hairspray, and penny loafers. Thank you Seventeen. I would have been so country without you. First-kiss bliss indeed (I probably committed that one to memory...)



But I digress. A lot. I know.

The point is, we did stuff at night. And my mom always had a sewing or needlework project going. And with a fire in the fireplace and everyone together in the same room, it truly was a lovely way to pass the time. I'm not saying I want to give up the television to darn my kids' old Hanes socks or anything. But I've kinda been antsy for a little crafty project to do. While I rot my brain with the demon-box.

Purl Soho has the best projects. And they're not even a little country. Here are some I'm considering. Aren't you proud Ma?