Here is a smattering of my smaller (called "Piece of Cake") Little House Needleworks recently acquired. Lovely little designs!
The funny story was a result of reading Meari's Oct. 13 entry. We were moving into this neighborhood 17 years ago, and they used to have a progressive Christmas party. You meet at one of the bigger homes for appetizers and cocktails, then branch out into many smaller groups for salad and bread at different homes. Then a different bunch meet at different houses for the main courses and potatoes or vegetables, etc., then all back to another larger home for cookies and wassail or booze. It takes tons of planning and preparation, and this neighborhood is a bit on the hoyty toyty side, except for the Joneses, who live in the high crime area of the neighborhood. They all decided long ago that anyone who decorates with bears, cats and such is their idea of riff-raff. Ask me if I care. I hate tinkling chandeliers, and I ain't got no class. Anyway, we owned the lot before we built our house, and I was invited to get the hang of the Christmas torture by participating as a co-hostess the first couple of years. I was to help out with the punch the first time and bake a few dozen cookies or dessert bars. My car, which was not a wreck, but did have a hole in the muffler, and it was noisy, to say the least. I traded it in for an SUV before we moved in, but that didn't help me out when I pulled up into the drive of the meeting of our planning group for the last stop of the Christmas Progressive Torture that year. Big house, big expensive house, several expensive cars in the driveway, and here I drive up, ducking my head at the noise of my muffler, my face red. I mustered all the dignity I could, walked into the house and announced how sorry I was about the noise. I said, "I have a muffler in my hole, and I have an appointment tomorrow to have it replaced."