A conversation between my sister and diem3 had me remember the photos I snapped of my mother’s
needlepoint cross-stitch projects.
I should clarify . . . photos of a small number of my mother’s
needlepoint cross-stitch projects. So, here I am, finally posting the photos I took last September (and a few from 2017).
It’s worth noting just how much has happened in the past eleven months. The world has actually changed, and not for the better. On a personal note, we suffered the passing of my brother early in the year, something that still sucker-punches me.
I mention all this to underscore the importance — physical, mental, and emotional — of having a hobby or interest that offers an escape from the increasing bleakness of the human condition.
Hmm . . . all that seems a downer of an introduction. Let me recover . . . by telling a joke I recently read on a friend’s timeline (Facebook):
“I want to die in my sleep like my grandfather did. Not screaming in terror like the passengers in his car.”
And away we go!