Rosita arrived today, but I’m not allowed to play with her.
Instead, I’m steeling myself for several long days of slogging away at hexies. It feels a bit like being kept back in school and doing detention (for those not familiar with the term, detention is extra punishment schoolwork which had to be done at school after hours while all your friends were outside playing).
Upstairs in my sewing room, Rosita stands sturdily in the corner, draped discreetly in fabric to conceal from the curious the fact that she’s now very nearly as porky as I am. Her shoulders slope a little more than my very square ones, nothing a couple of shoulder pads can’t fix. Her waist goes in a bit more and will need padding out, but otherwise she’s eerily familiar. Apart from being bright red, that is.
On my cutting table lie the pieces for the Swoopy Shirt and new fabric in lilac cotton with a medium white dot, destined to be turned into a long tunic top, possibly with the same swoopy hem as the shirt.
In the cupboard are numerous pieces of fabric whispering seductively about the garments they want to become. They know I have the patterns already. But worst and most tempting of all is the siren song of the Wedding Quilt….
So you can see why I feel a bit trapped by hexies. I’m still absolutely loving this quilt, but the stupid show deadline is what’s causing all the angst. And all self-inflicted, too…
Ah well, onwards.