Sorry I'm late posting what's apparently turned out to be my once-a-week post! Sad. But then, if I try to place too many rules on my life at this point, it'll take all the joy out of it!
I decided I hadn't shared this teacup (I don't think) or this pillow that I made. There are hooked pillows and rugs, and then there are hooked (with beautiful craftsmanship) pillows and rugs. Mine was a simple project that I made for my mother many years ago. When I was going through her things and it wasn't turning up, I figured it hadn't made one of my parents' many moves. But finally there it was! Squished in a box in the garage. Poor humble pillow! But it has that precious connection with my mother, so I was glad to have it.
I think the teacup was hers as well. Royal Vale from England. It's rather dainty even though it looks contemporary. It is between a demi and a regular teacup in size.
Remember my cross-stitch Santa pillow I shared maybe a couple years ago? Still haven't finished it. But that's not as bad as the pillow below! I made this Dresden pattern in a class, I'm thinking in the late 1970s. I gave it to my mom to sew up with her sewing machine, and had forgotten about it when I came across it in her things. Perhaps I'll just frame it or make it a wall hanging since my pillows have to be protected from four curious kitties. But with my track record, it likely won't be anytime soon!
A couple quotes from The Young Clementina by D.E. Stevenson:
[After a weekend visit to Hinkleton Manor for the christening of her niece Clementina, Char thinks]:
It took me weeks to regain the small modicum of resignation with my lot which I had previously achieved.
It is my birthday, today, Clare, and I have bought a tiny cake. Perhaps you will think it rather a foolish thing for a woman of thirty-five to do--to buy a birthday cake and eat it all by herself with a dream [imaginary] companion, for her birthday tea; but I have missed so much in life that other women take as their due that you must forgive me my foolishness.
It's not my birthday, but perhaps it's yours? I loved this book. The main character writes down all her worries and thoughts about her life to a woman she just happens to meet (on a bus, I think), has a brief conversation with, doesn't even get her name, yet afterwards feels they would have been best friends given the chance. I thought it was a genius approach for a book.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.