The Enemy of the Good

For the past few days, I have let perfect be the enemy of the good.  I haven't posted because I was trying to write a sort-of theory-ish piece about line in embroidery.  But I couldn't get it just so.  

Instead, I wrote nothing and drank a bunch of wine. This, my friends, was a mistake.  Come on.  Who wouldn't rather see pretty pictures of my house and stitches than nothing?  Who was going to say, yeah, your house is really clean and it sounds like your dinner was awesome, but what do you think about the significance and validity of the blanket stitch when not used on an edge?

I'll try not to let it happen again.  Meanwhile, let's get back to the matter at hand.  Art.  Parenting.  Eating. That's what blogs are for, people.  The basics of life.  The mundane details.  Why I'm awesome and why I'm not.  Incidentally, I'm awesome for thrifting a totally sweet piece of embroidery plus two, count 'em two designer shirts for Ellis and making yummy dinners, like, all week.  Here's the embroidery:

I'm not awesome since I can't remember the last time I saw my kitchen counter.  Ok.  I can remember.  It was Christmas.  Just so you know, I don't have a dishwasher.  I'd show you the kitchen, but I can't get good pics of it that make it seem like some sort of glamourous mess as opposed to the real and yucky mess that it really is.  You'll just have to take my word for it.

Meanwhile, some new work.  I'm stitching on top of patchwork.

And from the back.

Embroidered motifs in waiting.