*photo by Elaine A. Russell

I started doing needlework at a very early age... probably around 2nd grade. Most all the women in my family do/ did needlework of one variety or another... and most of them did more than one.

My paternal grandmother did many. She tatted, weaved, crocheted, knit, quilted, sewed, made bobbin lace, did beadwork... you name it. In fact, she had a room in her house affectionately known as the "sewing room." Originally, it was a bedroom... but over the years ... anything even remotely craft related got chucked in there. It was a mess. It was piled to the ceiling. It was wonderful.

These past few days I have been trying to clean out my own "wonderland of junk"... ( also known as the garage )... and I have been reminded of my grandmother.

I also share with her... several boxes of "shame"... that is... unfinished projects from god-knows-when. It's frustrating... and frankly, it was very intimidating. It was just something I didn't want to have to go thru. It made me feel like a slacker... like a failure... And so... I am trying to come up with alternative emotions... and solutions...