Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.


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Sunday, March 23, 2003  


As I write this Flidais is drying on a pad of towells on the dining room table. miles and miles of i-cord completed. Every precious tail woven and snipped. All the crud a UFO accumulates over a year of being stuffed into baskets, hidden beneath tables, generally shoved out of sight, has been washed away. The slight hump that still distorted the shoulders has been blocked away. Happy hands have sculpted the fabric smooth, plucked the bobbles back to attention, carefully teased the collar into a lovely oval.

And I am doing the Happy Dance.

posted by Bess | 5:11 PM