I often feel like the tortoise rather than the hare. Until I remember that I'm not running a race. Then I just feel slow. I'm OK with that. Slow can be good. For me, being slow is being careful and savoring the process of whatever it is that has me moving like molasses in winter. My current glacial project is mending, finally.
Rather than unearth the bags of clothing I have stashed (somewhere) and inevitably become overwhelmed by the sheer volume of mending I should do, I chose my very favorite gardening gear for my inaugural mending project. These overalls used to accompany me any and everywhere. But ever since I discovered the holes in the crotch, the holes I imagine blowing out to embarrassing proportions with a stretch to reach an item on the top shelf at the grocery store or bending down to retrieve a library book from the bottom shelf, these naturally air conditioned dungarees stick close to home.
In addition to the holes in the crotch, there's a small hole in one knee, holes at the stress points where the shoulder straps hook to the bib, frayed edges practically everywhere, fabric worn alarmingly thin at both knees and below both back pockets, and they are about 5 inches too long. Oh dear, what was that I said about becoming overwhelmed?
With inspiration from the beautiful and informative Mend It Better, out comes the shoebox of embroidery floss. And then, because for the life of me I can't seem to remember how to sew a blanket stitch and instead keep making a tangled mess, out comes my favorite embroidery book The Stitches of Creative Embroidery by Jacqueline Enthoven. (Copyright 1964, I discovered this book at my teeny, tiny local library, fell in love with it, and hunted down a copy for my craft collection.)
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