This began as a conversation with Rachel, an old friend, confidante, and fellow mischief-maker. She was speaking about someone specific, who was making her life more awkward than necessary. Context here is everything. The edited conversation went something like this…
Me: Ooooh, I could make that for you. [Pause] in cross-stitch.
Rach: [Looks blank, and a little surprised] Really?
Me: Yes. It’d be like cross cross-stitch. But cool. Not like granny cross-stitch.
Rach: Ok. I definitely want FUCK OFF in embroidery. Maybe more words too.
Me: Done. [I look a little anxious] But not too many more words, I’ve begun my SARCASM sampler.
Rach: I’ll have a think and text you tomorrow.
Me: [By text message the next day.] How about NICELY? So it’s really polite…. [and something I can politically prank.]
Designing a pattern in a series of tiny squares has been immensely satisfying. Sewing according to a structure that doesn’t shift beneath my fingertips has been a joy compared to kickboxing Chapter Two of my thesis. Creativity just for fun is something I’ve missed. But not any more.