The day our third and youngest was born, we didn’t contact many people. Facebook could wait. But I did send a text to one old and dear friend to let her know the baby had arrived safely.
Lisa didn’t have my new cell number, but at our age, friends don’t have babies every week. I hadn’t bothered adding my name. The answer returned swiftly: “Congratulations, but I don’t think we know each other.”
Once she knew it was me, her next text read “How did that happen?”. Whilst Lisa had a genteel upbringing, the question was not about how the baby came to be, but how it could be that a whole pregnancy had passed unnoticed.
Life slips easily into a series of days made up of nothing more than the struggle to get to work, do the chores, feed the children and get some sleep. Days become weeks then months where nothing remarkable happens, there are no specific memories to look back on. It is not that these days are unhappy, but they leave me with the feeling that life is just sliding by. I’m not making the most of our precious time together: life is not being lived lavishly.
This is not to say life is quiet and restful. There are the times you look at your diary only to find that your next completely free weekend is in two months time. (In our case, usually indicative of the state of our daughters’ social lives rather than our own). There is a world of difference between having lots of things to do and living a rich and full life.
This year I’m on the look out for more opportunities to spend time with the people that matter.
Against that backdrop, I must also explain that in some far corner of my brain apparently untouched by feminism or rational thought of any kind, I nurture a deeply held belief that my happiness is dependent on my house meeting Martha Stewartesque standards of organisation. Those of you familar with the clutter affecting many rooms of said house will no doubt be surprised. The truth is, I am a failed neat freak.
Part of this clutter is directly attributable to numerous UFOs or unfinished objects: incomplete craft and sewing projects, half knitted sweaters, unfinished mending, baskets of leftover yarn and the like. So when sister-in-law Kate and I talked about doing some more needlework classes, I had to admit that what I really needed was to get on top of work I already have on hand.
There’s not a lot you can’t teach yourself out of a good book. Now with the internet, blog tutorials and youtube.com, it’s that much easier to do. But I have fond memories of going to my great aunt’s weaving circle in Wadowice, or my aunty’s quilting group in Waipawa: women sitting around together working companionably on their respective projects, gentle chatter going back and forth, some laughs, the pleasure of company without any particular pressure to converse. This is what I have looked for in needlework classes, but they have never really delivered.
So this year Kate and I decided to do something different and organised a monthly get together cum craft night. We could meet in our own homes, but we have enjoyed the added benefit of holding the evening in the studio section of Made on Marion. Long time friend and proprietrix Maryanne Cathro is on hand with ready advice and every conceivable piece of thread, paint, glue or haberdashery one could need.
We gather on a Friday evening after work, everyone brings a bottle or something to nibble, we sit, catch up on each others lives, and work on our respective projects until we go home, tired but relaxed to our families and the weekend. For a couple of friends, this has been a chance to try something new in a safe environment, for others, a spur to pick up something already familiar, perhaps reinvigorated by new ideas from others or the shelves of Maryanne and David’s store.
What with being unable to type and wield a hook or needle at the same time, my own progress has slowed since I started this blog. I had imagined being a few projects up by now. But the afghan throw I started earlier in the year is still going. I’m hoping to finish my squares over the next month. It ought to be done and adorning the back of my sofa before the winter is out.