Call Me Betsy Ross and I'll Stitch Your Lips Shut

Nope, I haven't reneged on my promise to start blogging again! The days are passing swiftly and are full of chaos at the moment, since DramaBoy and The Widget are sick (still) and Stuff keeps getting in the way of what I'd rather be doing--blogging, reading on my Kindle 2 (which is my new inorganic best friend), and doing cross stitch.

Yeah, you read me right. My students and coworkers were ridiculing me for being such an Old Lady by sitting peacefully as I passed needle and floss in and out the perforated cloth*. Oh, my grandma did that! exclaimed one student. How old ARE you? queried another impertinent youth. Glares and meaningful glances at the pottery jar labeled "Ashes of Obnoxious Teenagers" that sits on my filing cabinet did nothing to abate the snickering.

Until they saw what initially appeared to be random stitches in various colors transforming into a charming and vivid piece of art. I'm not linking the image because it's a gift for a loved one who sometimes reads this blog--maybe I'll do so once it's been framed and gifted. The snickers turned to exclaimations of delight, the disdain into appreciation. They also agreed that I had been far less snarky and cranky on the occasions I had pulled out my craft. (This is always to the good, in their opinion. They love me dearly, of course, but it's rather like adoring a snarly and imperious great cat who might just take a swipe with a verbal paw if you rub her fur the wrong way.)

One senior boy in my Creative Writing class even started asking if I would make something for him. Gradually his requests turned into wondering if perhaps this was something he could do himself. My comment that I have an uncle who has done cross stitch wasn't even needed--this is a boy secure in his identity and masculinity, so much so that his buddies didn't even leap on this prime opportunity for ridicule (which is unfair, because hey, they'd been the ringleaders in ridiculing me just days before!) So he spent some time on Joann.com checking out the cross stitching kits and asking my advice on levels of difficulty. I can just picture him in college, sitting contentedly on his dorm bed after a long day of classes and football practice and studying, watching TV while he stitches away at a pattern of wolves or footballs or rubber duckies!

So there's my good deed in the name of gender egalitarianism.

Oh, and humor? In short supply at the moment. I used it up tickling and teasing my young sons into fits of shrieking laughter last night. And it's too early in the morning. The coffee is still working its way through my bloodstream. Sorry, Lauren dear, if this didn't meet your high standards. Sort of along the lines of wimpy sunlight struggling to get over the horizon because Daylight Savings Time makes everyone Too Damn Tired.

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*Yeah, yeah, I know. What am I doing cross stitching at school/work? Procrastinating, for one. Passing time while observing students doing group work in Lit 10 and 11 and writing stuff in Creative Writing, for another. Keeping my hands busy so that I didn't inadvertently strangle a teen or two, for sure. Don't judge me!