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Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

And then was the day, a cold, damp, February day where Charlotte and I discovered through texting that we were both embarking on primitive activities.

primitive: adjective:  (prim-i-tiv): early in the history of the world or of humankind.

I was sewing, she was baking.  Do people do those things these days?

I had a project planned to cover the footstool I use every single day of my life.  It belonged to my brother back around 2000 (?), and I inherited it after he died.  I wore the hell out of it.

As I began my project I got a text from Charlotte.  She told me she was going to bake some bread.

Back to the earth we were.  And the competition was on.

With a big bedspread that dates back at almost 50 years (vintage fabric from family is always my first choice) I spent days in my head and minutes on the internet trying to figure out how to make this “slipcover.”

I measured twice seventeen times and cut once.  The rule of carpenters and people who don’t sew more than once every five years.  Plus, I sew less than once every five years.

 

A wrinkly spread of my fabric.

A wrinkly spread of my fabric.

 

Sides and top measured and cut to precision.

 

My bobbin wouldn’t work, so I gave up.  I discovered I had it in backwards.

Charlotte measured her ingredients, watched the science of yeast work, and kept in touch with me.

Charlotte had the power of Paul Hollywood behind her.  I had 7th grade home ec teacher Mrs. Landsverk behind me.

Oh, let’s not make these things a competition.  It’s the experimenting, the effort, the wish to create something out of nothing that counts.  Right?

Here are the results…

My foot stool cover:

 

All right, my measurements weren’t precise because the foot stool was all wonky (aka suffering from uneven ware from my using it forever). Plus, at the time of this publication that icky center crease has disappeared with my feet constantly swiping over it in the meantime.  I didn’t even bother to iron it from the start.

Charlotte’s Italian Parmesan bread:

It doesn’t matter who wins or loses.  It wasn’t even a competition to begin with.  Charlotte and I both took on a fun project and we worked it to the end.  We’re all winners when we do that.

Except, Charlotte won by a landslide.  Congratulations, honey!

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