BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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Throwback Thursday – Stitchery

I’ve loved to work with fibers and textiles for as long as I can remember. When I was in second grade I made a challah cover out of purple felt. I think my mother may still have that project, somewhere. Over the years I’ve tried my hand at lots of different types of stitchery projects, and some I’ve truly loved. Here’s a trip down memory lane via needle and thread (or yarn or floss or something)

1. Crewel embroidery. I was a child of the seventies and one year for my birthday I received a crewel embroidery kit full of burnt orange and avocado green threads along with a giant embroidery needle. I think I made a mushroom or something.

2. Needlepoint. At summer camp we would make our own designs on the canvas, then tape up the raw edges with masking tape and go to town. I remember one particular bargello (zig-zag) pattern that I especially enjoyed.

3. Macrame. So maybe this doesn’t really belong in this category, but it is made with fibers. I made dozens of tiny twisted bracelets at summer camp over the years.

4. Stamped Cross Stitch. You just follow the lines printed on the fabric. What could be easier? Still, I wasn’t super impressed with the finished products. My mom still has her stamped cross stitch challah cover, though.

5. Counted Cross Stitch. Now this was a pastime I loved. I stitched on linen, I stitched on cotton, and I stitched on baby clothes. I found it soothing and I liked the end product, especially old fashioned looking samplers.

6. Garment Sewing. I learned to sew in seventh grade Home Economics class. Next to typing and junior year English,  it was the most useful class in school. I made two prom dresses, a velvet and tafetta gown for a ball, children’s clothing for my little cousin, and numerous other items.

7. Rug hooking. Again I’m not sure this really counts, but I did it. I did one project, and I found it tedious. Of course it was an ugly pattern with ugly yarn, not the type of beautiful project that crafters make these days.

8. Knitting. I tried. Really, I did. So not my thing.

9. Quilting. My love. I don’t do nearly as much of it as I would like, but I have made hundreds of quilts over the last couple of decades, and I adore my fabrics, patterns, and volumes of quilting books and magazines. By the way, I designed the Bubble Fish pattern in the photo above. It ran in Quiltmaker Magazine in 1995, and they made it into the kit you see above. I never actually sewed that quilt, I just drew it out on graph paper and mailed it in (remember mailing?). It won their ongoing design contest, and the rest is history.


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Hello Botswana!

africa-mapA remarkable thing has happened today. Someone from Botswana has visited BulgingButtons. Hooray!

Now I know what you’re thinking. It’s probably not a “real” person. It’s probably a scam. It’s probably someone trying to get me to optimize my SEO or upgrade my RSS or some other alphabet soup nonsense. I don’t care.

Their address is from Botswana. Botswana. Say it a few times. It just sort of rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?

A few years ago my friend was expecting her third daughter. I was quite sure that Botswana would be a perfect name for her little girl. She chose McKenna. Still cute, but not quite as cool as Botswana. Say it again to see what I mean.

Botswana just puts a smile on my face. I’m so glad that Botswana stopped by today. Hopefully we’ll see them again soon.

 


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My Son the Athlete

golf-hole*304xx1663-1345-0-457My son plays high school sports. I  thought I would never type this sentence, but it’ s true. He plays tennis and golf, and enjoys them both a great deal.

His father is a natural athlete. He was an all-state football player in high school and played on a semi-pro  basketball team (whatever that is) in his youth.

I, on the other hand, am not an athlete by any definition of the word. Oh sure, I played  intramural basketball in junior high, and I played on the co-ed rec volleyball team for a season, but I was awful at both.

My son takes after me in many ways; most of them I’m proud of. Athletically, however, I wish he were slightly more like his father.  Still, he has come a long way.

When he was small he hated to crawl. He was much happier just being carried from place to place. Once he finally mastered that crawling thing, usually with a pathetic outstretched arm in the hopes of a pity ride, he took forever to learn to walk. At last, at nearly a year and a half, he figured it out.

Bike riding was similar. He got a slick bike with training wheels around kindergarten age. It wasn’t my idea. I knew he lacked the coordination for it, and I was right. It sat in the garage for a long time, next to the battery powered mini-motorcycle (also not my idea). They both gathered dust until one day he decided to try it again. Of course by then he was much bigger. Still, it wasn’t his thing. Finally, in the fifth grade he received a new bicycle, one suitable for a ten year old, not a five year old. We took him to the park, he rode on the grass, and he finally learned. He was rewarded with a twenty dollar bill found in the parking lot. I guess the gods were pleased.

This boy has tried gymnastics, basketball, flag football, and tackle football. He never quit any of the sessions for which he was enrolled, but he also wasn’t exactly a super star. That was okay with us and okay with him. He has lots of other talents, so if he wasn’t an athlete no big deal.

2Then came high school. One day I picked him up from school and he announced that he had joined the golf team. The golf team? He had never even held a golf club as far as I knew, aside from a few games of mini-golf. They told the kids that no experience was necessary, so he tried it and liked it. A lot. Now he golfs and has a varsity letter.

He also plays tennis. This is something he has done for years in the summer. My mom is a big tennis player, at least she used to be. She has signed up all the grandkids for tennis lessons, so my boy was familiar with the sport. Still, a week here and a week there does not a tennis player make. Last year as a freshman he decided not to try out, but this year he went for it. The other day he played his first varsity match, and he was happy.

I’m so proud of my athlete. I’m proud of him for finding his own way and sticking to it. I’m proud of him for working hard to improve in both of his sports, and for enjoying himself along the way. I’m proud of him for not giving up when it gets difficult or when he is defeated in competition. I’m proud of him for being a good teammate and for never missing practice. This boy constantly impresses me. I can learn a lot from him. I’m proud to be his mother, even if I’m not an athlete myself.