The night the show closed I woke up with a midnight sewing inspiration. I went to the fabric store the next morning with Luke in tow and an idea brewing. My idea came home to my sewing machine and turned into a complete and utter failure, but I pulled a nice skirt out of the ashes, of which I'm quite fond, and hey, I learned something.
This burst of creative activity continued. In the following days, I restrung a necklace, made a new playlist, and started a new poem. Not bad. I also made mint chocolate butter cookies shaped like ballerinas with white chocolate tutus and shoes. Only three of them survived the frosting processes. Three ballerinas and a bowl full of broken ballerina parts suitable for a horror movie staring the Ginger Bread man. They were tasty though.
I haven't sat at my sewing machine much lately. My new-found interest in knitting is much more conducive to side-by-side play with a toddler. Knitting needles can't hurt Luke much, and he likes to pretend they're drumsticks. I’ll not begin to illustrate the trouble he can get into with pins and scissors.
Rounding out your crafting skills is a good thing.
Sensible Shannon did descend at some point while I was modeling my newly sewn skirt to say, "I'm so glad you whipped out a tea-length, white, cotton skirt in a few hours in the dead of winter in the middle of a storm. Where and when were you actually planning on wearing that?"
I raised an eyebrow at her. "You have no power here. Get back on your broomstick and be gone, bitch."
Haven't seen her since.