Stitching v. Reading: Round 1

I've been on a recent reading binge, pretty much to the exclusion of all else. "What did you say, husband? You've been feeling neglected, and are beginning to flounder in the pile of dirty laundry that's accumulated? I can't hear you, I'm reading the Orson Scott Card book you told me to read, and your head is buried in all the towels you've used in the last 2 weeks. Sorry."

I think I've read 6 books in the last 3 weeks, in addition to working full time and attempting to go to school, where they will assign me more books to read that I really don't want to, like "Native American Oral Literatures." That is not so engaging, I fear, as "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime."

In addition to this overwhelming urge to sequester myself in the very corner of the futon whilst yelling at Jesse to please turn down his play-by-play poker narrative, I've decided that I'd like to return to all my crafting glory. It hasn't really happened since we moved into this new place, in some large part due to the fact that what used to be my craft table is now where Jesse unloads his backpack every day after school, so that wood is no longer visible. At least in hardwood form. It is visible in paper form.

I decided, after perusing the pages of Mr. X Stitch, that I wanted to do a snarky stitch of my own, so I have begun. You will see the fruits of my labor after I wage war with myself what is more important: cleaning up after Jesse (and sometimes myself), reading the rest of BOTH "The Interview with the Vampire" and "The Kite Runner," or completing my slightly snarky, mostly silly cross-stitch sampler. Or starting a beaded bracelet I promised my friend I would do for him, for a small fee. Which he asked me to do like a month and a half ago, and I haven't even started creating the pattern for. DECISIONS.

P.S. While I was thinking about cross-stitching, it occurred to me that unlike normal children, I had the patience for this craft BEFORE I TURNED FOUR. I remember sitting down at my grandmother's house in Santa Barbara, begging my mom to please undo this knot I made so I could continue. I made a small pillow. How did I do that before I could read? I don't even know. I astonish myself with my youthful intelligence that somehow panned out into me making a lot of spreadsheets for a living.