That'll do, pig, that'll do

First of all, pardon me if I get a little teary-eyed.

Last night, when I got home, I started playing with my new toys again. This time, I involved the stamp. It could have gone two ways. Fortunately, it went the right way. My cute little rear view of a cat went on the tag fairly well. I didn't do too many, though; I wasn't doing a consistently great job, and I didn't want to wreck too many tags.

Anyway, so I got one that was usable. And was DELIGHTED with it. Monet or Picasso never looked with as much pride at their masterpieces as I looked at that one patheticly stamped, slightly smudged, price tag/floss holder. I wanted to run up and down the street, yelling in delight, but I don't want the neighbors to wonder about my sanity, and the rain has been making the creek rise over the last couple days, and with my luck, I'd have slipped and fell in, and that would suck, and be a highly ironic thing to happen. So I ate some ice cream.

Now, I know, you are wondering, what could cap that experience? Not much, I assure you. But when I went down to feed the dogs, I started sorting through my dyeing floss. In amongst the random skeins of floss, the ever present paper of size 28 needles, and the roll of ribbon with shells on it (I probably had a good reason for buying that this summer, but I forget what that reason was. It stinks getting old.), I found a single skein of the floss I dyed. And charged triumphantly back upstairs, skein held high, to put that beautiful floss on my beautiful tag.


I know I play around a lot and take nothing seriously. It's part of my personality. But I'm serious now. I kept fingering that skein of floss all night. It was pretty when it was just wound. But, with the tag, that really didn't look homemade when it was on the floss, it looked beautiful. When I saw that floss that I dyed, on the tag that I made, and finally had that tangible proof that I can accomplish something I have dreamed about, and talked about, for what feels like forever, it felt so overwhelming. The last time I had this satisfaction about an accomplishment, I was 21 and a college graduate. And I did this myself, with my stitching. That's HUGE!

I'll put a photo up of that skein tonight. It probably doesn't look like much to anyone but me. And if you ask me in person if I'm proud, I'll probably say, "That'll do." But realize, if you want to, that my eyes have been dancing for the last 22 hours.