Ingrid's photo of her scissors-in-a-box
Awhile back, a favorite blogger of mine posted about her love of scissors and mourning the loss of a favorite pair of pinking shears. Since my craft closet has an embarrassment of riches in the thrift store scissors department; I wrote to her and said a package was on the way. Two months! later—Ingrid received her parcel, just as she is in the process of moving, downsizing, and getting rid of stuff. Oh, the irony!
Stuff and life and moving and moving on has been very much on my mind. I have a love/guilt relationship with my tidy stacks of textiles, linens, and assorted haberdashery. I don't seem to be able to come up with a project to use them up. I'm a puttering type of sewer, doing one-offs; not latching onto one project to tackle as a production sewer—to do over and over and over again, with a view to marketing my craft.
Time to reassess, I guess.
And this week contains yet another life lesson. My favourite spot on this big old island is the sheltered western side of the Saanich Peninsula. Temperatures there are much warmer than where we are, on the east, facing the Salish sea—and its pervasive chill.
So, on my many meanderings over on the west side, an empty lot for sale caught my attention and behold, 2 years later—a contractor is building a spec house on the lot. It's just the right size, in a spectacular rural neighbourhood, with the exact finishes I would have chosen if I were to build a custom house.