a A few summers ago, I fussily emptied dusty cardboard boxes, folded my underwear in new and fancy ways, and asked a forgotten melonballer, “Do you bring me joy?” Ta. It was so seductive to have control over something when life is such an obsessive adventure that tumbles from one thing to the next.
I don't have many regrets in life, but I do regret giving away some containers of embroidery supplies. My admiration for them rivals any Sapphire love story, but I plan on creating a happier ending. Instead of burying your gays, make a cuter wall decoration.
Fifteen years ago, I was deep in my cross-stitch phase, scouring garage sales and Lincraft looking for my next hit. The last project I worked on was making bookmarks with embroidered fabric linings. A cute wren sewn onto a stiff grid of fabric sits in a spare room in my mother's house. I get goosebumps just thinking about it. She thought it was too good to actually use, which was both infuriating and sweet at the same time.
Last year I started to gear up again and no one is more shocked than me. After developing hectic tendonitis in my right arm and my fine motor function going pretty crazy, I thought I could free the bird from potentially getting stitches.
And during a recent visit to a bookstore, I found a little ladybug kit that comes with a wooden hoop and everything you need. It's no bigger than my palm, simple and achievable, and I could see it coming together slowly.
When our youngest was cooking in the womb, we called her “ladybug baby,” so I had to have it. Next came little Mario driving the car for my big kid, and Kris Kringles also received some personal gifts.
After finishing the latest kit I ordered online, I was left dazed. My hands needed to make something! I entered the hut, searching for remaining artifacts and holding hopes and dreams in irregularly labeled storage tubs. I found about 6 half-finished stuffed animals, a nice collection of origami, and all the supplies I needed to make flower arrangements.
We've packed a carefully selected collection of cross-stitch projects into each small storage cube. I'm currently ball stitching a giant kingfisher from a kit I bought at a garage sale 8 years ago. Their first child was born soon after, and their focus was diverted from whimsical crafts to learning how to be parents.
These projects take me away from the mobile game console equivalent of mobile phone luminous games. I've spent hours and hours on Cake Match, and I'll never get them back.
Although my pupils dilate with joy every time I beat my high score, these electronic pastimes disconnect me from the present and wreak havoc on my posture. The quest for dopamine is eternal and getting the repeat stitches right with the right color combination is the biggest rush in my life right now. It's like wheeling down a cliff blindfolded. By gifting your completed project, you can give that joy back to your loved ones.
Marie Kondo was wrong.
The minimalists were wrong. The things that no longer brought me joy are now back and I couldn't be happier. If someone finds a large embroidery hoop with the words “DIG ME!” written on it, please return it as it has already been sewn and has room for lots of unsewn vegetables. I would like to finish it for the kitchen.
