Today as I made my way to the train, I saw a lot of confused elderly women shuffling about looking like they'd let go of the rope for just a second and gotten separated from their handlers. Rather than meanly push them out of my way, I leaned in to each one I passed and said You're going the wrong way.
Because the Metro Toronto Convention Centre is not far from the train station, I checked their website and learned that the source of all the blue haireds. The Canadian Diabetes Association was having their annual meeting under the same roof as the Creative Sewing and Needlework Festival. Be my guest.
Although my mother's not diabetic, she is old. That means that at one time, it was inevitable that she feel the lure of crafting as a means to fulfillment. Her demon? Macrame. Through several yards of complicated knots and loops, she became proficient at making 7 foot long planters from hot pink yarn for a time.
This led me to believe that if she could pull something like that off, I must be talented too.
I went for the String Art. I completed several projects small and large and generally only screwed up once per project. I'm not sure what happened to my work but I have a feeling if I unravelled one of those damned planters of hers, I might find out.