The None's Story.

As a child, there were a few things that could frighten the pants off me.

Moths, crickets, the sight of my brother with a lizard or a bug in his hands...
Not much has changed.

Except for one fear.
I look back at this one and hope against hope that it will come to pass so that I will have an opportunity to speak my truth.
And perhaps some obscenities also.

Now, I've only ever divulged this carefully guarded information to one person before today.
And how he has managed to listen to almost every scrap of my nonsense all these years without flinching is beyond me. But he has, Jeebus love him. He's a brave soul.

I'm not too sure how this started, but I suspect that watching The Sound of Music, The Flying Nun, The Trouble with Angels and/or The Nun's story with Audrey Hepburn may have all contributed to the problem.
Call it a hunch.
Where were the censors on all on that?

By the time I was 8 years old, I lived with the constant apprehension that despite my early inclination towards atheism, or maybe due to it, that I would be caught alone and off guard, hear the voice of God calling me and then have to become a nun.

Noooo! No no no no no no no. NO!

I cannot tell you what misery and terror this fear caused me.
And rightly so.
I would have made a far better moth and lizard catcher than a nun. *shudder*

Nevertheless, I waited for God himself to give me the worst possible vocational guidance in living history.

Anyway, should this God person still wish to communicate with me, I would now be very glad to organise a sit down.
Indeed, I have several bones to pick with him. He'll need to clear his schedule through October at least.
And I don't mean 2008 either.
He's so going to get it.
Reality television? Rupert Murdoch?
Seriously.

But what am I saying?
He knows better than to turn up to something like that.
He's the world's worst no-show.

Besides, the sort of person who thought it was OK to create moths, crickets and Brendan Nelson, plus allowing clubs like the Roosters to exist and prosper, would probably not be interested in asking someone like me to join him anymore.

If he had anything to say to me at all, I now suspect it would be closer to this, "Siiiim! Look what I've done to South Sydney.... hahahaha, sucko and get that up ya!"

And so now you see why, all those years ago, an 8 year old girl took such pains to dodge that bullet.
Smart.

Still, should you not wish to stand near me during an electrical storm I'll understand. ;O)

So sew UFOs.

I finish things.
Unless I don't like them or they're for me.
But, other than that, I finish things.

These are the things I'm working on at the moment, or have abandoned for one of the above reasons.
Both very good reasons too.

So, anyway, here are my UFOs (unfinished objects) in their crumpled, I don't like them anymore glory.

Actually, the ant block is going to be for Bronwyn's June mail out. Last time I was there, a very handsome team of kitchen ants were making her kinda cranky, so I thought I'd dedicate a block to their uneasy relationship. It will be finished this week, so it probably doesn't count as a UFO as such.

The cat block is for Clair. She knows why. It is finished except the tail and maybe I'll crayon it a little bit.

The cross stitch is for Clair's bubba. It's 2/3rds finished and I only started it 2 weeks ago.
It has bunnies on it.
And we know this because if you look closely enough, you will notice (even without backstitching done) that they are losing the scrum.
That's OK. I still love them.
I now have needle holes in my right thumb and my left forefinger (in addition to my other stigmata), from stitching too much, so...

The lamby-bag with the areshole contains what will be a pram blanket for Clair's bubba. It's just that I like lamby to look full, so...

The Rabbitohs logo is mine. I was originally going to do maybe 6 or 7 of them and sew them into a quilt. But then I realised how badly it would wash, so...

The hexagons are MINE and I love them. They will never end up crumpled in that container under my sewing table.
Such is my resolve, that I did a couple of stitches in total blackness the other night when Adrian turned the power off.
They were fine.

The orange quilt, well, I'm just over orange and I never really decided what it was destined to be at all. Quilt, table cloth, cat blanket? I think it makes a fine UFO. It's ready to be pinned and quilted, but frankly, I don't like it's chances, so...

That little thing was going to be a button wall hanging, but then I remembered that I don't particularly like buttons. Or wall hangings.
Hmm, nope, I got no plans for it, so...

The larger checked thing was made just to see whether I could make a whole quilt out of scraps or not.
Well, I can. But apparently I don't like to use the same fabric twice.
Does that make me wasteful and shallow?
Or eccentric and diverse?
Of course, around this stage of the project, I realised that the butterfly in the corner is really pretty similar to it's ugly, disgusting, hillbilly cousin, the moth, so.....

So, is it OK not to finish things if you have a good reason?
Is it OK to sew my dad's 1974 coat buttons as aresholes onto lamby-bags from Spotlight?
Is there really a quilting mafia?
And if there is, is that where the term "made" comes from?

Anyway, I'm heartily ashamed of myself, sew...