whipstitchdarling

[whipstitchdarling]

my arch nemesis cynthia is, of course, at the bank, because we both were sent like clockwork to pick up the checks of our husbands. she is wearing a lovely long green gown, which i know was on behalf of me, because, as my husband will tell you, our house abhors green and glamour. already the tellers look at each other under their little hats, for they love our tirades, i’m sure, although not more than i hate them. 

“oh, is that your knitting?” my arch nemesis cynthia peers her eyes at my hands. “is it some kind of… sock?” everyone knows she and i used to be close before we were married and our husbands, smartly so, have introduced us to the idea of true vengeance.

“it is a scarf,” i say. i want to tell her that when the time comes and the world gets cold it will go over my mouth and i will breathe warm air and it will fill my lungs and i will be able to run around with my love even in the dark night. “it is not,” i say, “over surprising that you should be caught unawares of a scarf,” i say, “as i’m sure enjoying winter festivities are too beneath the handsome qualities your husband prefers.” pompous ass.

the tellers pass each other eyes for now it has started and they are delighted.

my arch nemesis cynthia thrusts out her hand. a white bottle. “rat poison,” she says. “i would expect the whole town knows about your little problem.” stage whisper. “such a shame, my dear.” then she rustles her long green skirts - which i know she wore on behalf of me - and she shimmies herself out of the room like royalty. oh, she floats everywhere she goes, beautiful black hair behind her. the bottle in my palm is cold. i will devise how to get her back starting first thing tomorrow.

the week, as always, is a long week, for there is much to make and do and knit and be. my husband comes home and i love him for who he is; for he never comes home without checking the state of the house up and down. he is the kind who loves his home so completely and sets each room like a stage for a great band to come playing. i am too ashamed to tell him why so many of the rats go missing, only make him a stew the next morning to celebrate. his favorite, although not mine, i’m afraid. plenty left over.

my arch nemesis today - of course - in a green the color of rotting. a bruise is uncarefully covered on her cheekbone, so striking against all of her dainty. her husband would say it was for her ungraceful nature, and i know mine would agree. i strike first, already delighted by my master plan, shoving over our best picnic basket tied with a bow. “i made you and yours a stew,” i say, “for beneath all that you carry” all that horrible wealth of your husband  “it seems you’re getting rather skinny.” i can’t resist one last comment. “i am worried you’re about to waste to nothing.”

She plucks it out of my hand. “yes, if it weren’t for you and your husband’s dwindling wealth,” her sarcasm is biting, “i’m sure i will be nothing in, oh, 5 weeks time.” she arches a brow. “so long from now.”

“i am counting the days,” i tell her. her lips purse. the tellers behind me make a choked titter. perhaps, by their estimation, i have won this round quite completely. i go home to my husband smiling. he asks where i have been and i tell him i’ve been at the bank, but he checks anyway because i like to get up to tricks and he doesn’t like to fall for it. it is a good game we play. at night, when he is asleep, i am so in love that i must convince myself to pull the covers over my nose and practice breathing. how silly to wake him up for a young girl’s feelings. 

the first week of five: she gives me a solid, ugly ring that requires three knuckles to hold. “i feel so badly for your status, and i must remember to practice charity,” she says. “it such a small thing, but do be careful amongst all that thin pine furnishing of your house, which dents so easily.” my husband appears at the bank’s front door. just checking. so lovely to be picked up by him. at night, in a rage, i try it - beneath the table bends easily. i scuff out the scratch with walnut before my husband can see. i pull the covers over my face in bed and breathe.

the second week: i wear her ugly ring and give her more stew, this time hearty with meat. her dress is a meadow. my heart each time it sees her collapses on itself. she hands me clothes for my husband, since his wealth continues to go missing, and the charity of her heart is so loving. i am so ashamed i bury them far by the old tree, where all my shames go hiding. again, the covers. it, by now, helps me sleep. i have gotten so good at it that i can simply shimmy my shoulders to be perfectly toasty and buried.

the third week: she asks how comes my knitting. i tell her it’s nearly complete. she asks how comes my husband, whom she must know has been ill recently, and who is doing quite badly. i go home to him, shaking. even sick he is a good housekeeper, who comes home examining for dust and dinge so i do not fall behind on my chores. who checks to be sure i spoke to only him and no one more, for fear a man might snatch me. tell me, who else has a man so involved, in this day and age?

the fourth week she is envy green. i shove a whole heaping of stew at her, for now her husband has gotten it. i say it will return him to spirits, she laughs, a sudden, beautiful sound, even in the quiet of a bank. everyone stares. maybe it is the stress that is making her quite improper. i feel the same way. so much is happening and it always seems she knows. she says she heard he has left me nothing in the will, which everyone already knows. she says she doubts either of us can dig upwards from the hole we’re both in. i look at the bruise on her nose. i tell her to mind her own husband, and be careful where she goes.

the fifth week: so final. her, garishly lime green. and i in black, to pick up a check that hardly seems the effort. it will be enough to cover my husband’s funeral. she smiles at me and hands me a silver bottle. she says quietly: now that i am destitute, there is one thing for it all, and everyone would understand quite completely. it would be quiet, and quick, and complete.

it is the night of the new moon, so dark no man can see in it. i receive notice her husband has died, and i am sorry to say i find a terrible joy in it. the air has changed cold. i have left a note asking to be buried in my scarf, the last thing i have made on this earth. i go through each perfect room, but there is nothing else to take with me, for the house has always been his and his alone, and now aches to be gone of him. i would not serve as a good tender for it. having spent so many nights watched carefully, the silly girlish freedom i’d gain would surely set the house ablaze.

i follow her instructions. quick, quiet, complete.

the horrible rustling is what does it. like a million green skirts. and then it is dark, and i am in my own coffin, eerie with pine. my head hurts but i must be quick and quiet. they have listened and buried me with my scarf. i shimmy my shoulders just-so and get it over my face. bring my arms up, ugly ring heavy, and begin to hit as hard as i can, over and over, the thin wood of my husband’s favorite furniture, the cretin. it would be pine, of course - he left me no money to be buried in any nicer recourse.

the wood splits so horribly, and then it is very hard to breathe, harder than under the covers, and i have to remind myself to be patient and continue to dig upwards, while my throat closes and my heart beats so loudly and the whole thing is so heavy it is a universe. the shifting of gravedirt is loud, and loud, and i feel i will be turned into a worm, and i fear everyone has forgotten about me, or i have gotten the timing wrong, or i will really die down here in the dirt and the cold

but then her hand, and my hand, and we are both digging towards each other, and she lifts me so easily from the ground like a plucked turnip and holds me against her, us both panting and muddied. we can only stay like this for so long, here in my pauper grave, and then we are both running to the old tree where we met, and unburying a second thing; my lovely box of shame, and men’s clothes, and all of my husband’s dwindling fortune i have slowly been squirrelling away.

my love and angel cynthia, who has black hair like a curtain and a mind so fast i sometimes am in frank awe at it, who is, even now and dirty and raw: even now the only sun in my life.

like this, i a man in an almost-dawn, and us cleaned by the river, and her smiling so widely, and only a faint bruise on her, and our pasts behind us in ugly garish colors. and her delicate hand and beautiful nose and when i finally get to kiss her it feels like green feels; my favorite color, all warm and nature and sunny grace and grass and lying awake so filled with love it makes you shake.

i hold her, and she holds me, and our future is a love like a dream unburied.

[whipstitchdarling]

the time travel agency seamstress (that one Tumblr post) |  Karolina Żebrowska

[whipstitchdarling]

Over the past few months I have asked a male architect for ideas & drafts for the renovation of the farmhouse, and at every turn I am stunned by his utter disregard for any cleaning-related concerns. For example, he is very into the idea of having in the living-room a big, non-openable window near the ceiling—which, granted, looks pretty, like having a piece of blue sky when you raise your eyes, but immediately I’m like, with a high ceiling, how will I clean this? You can’t open it so you have to clean both sides separately, and you can’t easily reach either side. I’ll need a tool with an absurdly long telescopic handle. He says, a stepladder. I’m like, but I’ll need to carry it by myself to the living-room and the front of the house every time. “So?” So a very tall stepladder is heavy? And it will be hard not to get dirty water dripping down the wall. He reacts like he can’t believe he is being asked to bring the concept of dirty soap water into his grand designs, like these are base, trifling considerations, when to me it’s a crucial factor in the decision to add this decorative window.

Similarly we both agree on leaving most of the wood beams exposed because they’re old and beautiful, but when I ask if we ought to insulate in such a way as to cover every other one, so the remaining ones are farther apart and it’s harder for spiders to use them as ready-made anchors for their webs, he just looks disgusted, like “I am talking about Architecture and you bring up spiderwebs.” At this point I start to entertain the idea that men make horrible architects. You design someone’s house to give them a nice, convenient space to live in, not to make their life more difficult. A man who has never used a sponge in his life should not be allowed to graduate from architect school and that’s the end of it.

[whipstitchdarling]

Over the past few months I have asked a male architect for ideas & drafts for the renovation of the farmhouse, and at every turn I am stunned by his utter disregard for any cleaning-related concerns. For example, he is very into the idea of having in the living-room a big, non-openable window near the ceiling—which, granted, looks pretty, like having a piece of blue sky when you raise your eyes, but immediately I’m like, with a high ceiling, how will I clean this? You can’t open it so you have to clean both sides separately, and you can’t easily reach either side. I’ll need a tool with an absurdly long telescopic handle. He says, a stepladder. I’m like, but I’ll need to carry it by myself to the living-room and the front of the house every time. “So?” So a very tall stepladder is heavy? And it will be hard not to get dirty water dripping down the wall. He reacts like he can’t believe he is being asked to bring the concept of dirty soap water into his grand designs, like these are base, trifling considerations, when to me it’s a crucial factor in the decision to add this decorative window.

Similarly we both agree on leaving most of the wood beams exposed because they’re old and beautiful, but when I ask if we ought to insulate in such a way as to cover every other one, so the remaining ones are farther apart and it’s harder for spiders to use them as ready-made anchors for their webs, he just looks disgusted, like “I am talking about Architecture and you bring up spiderwebs.” At this point I start to entertain the idea that men make horrible architects. You design someone’s house to give them a nice, convenient space to live in, not to make their life more difficult. A man who has never used a sponge in his life should not be allowed to graduate from architect school and that’s the end of it.

[whipstitchdarling]

I didnt have the supplies or the room to make a Mom's Cushion for my apartment (yes, another Animal Crossing prop, I'm on a roll here) but I did have the space for a Mom's (pin)Cushion. Embroidered with a chain stitch, this tiny little cushion is only 2.5" by 2.5" and I'm in love. Also I stuffed it with steel wool so that it will sharpen my pins as I use them. #embroidery #chainstitch #animalcrossingnewhorizons #acnh #animalcrossing #ac #fibercraft #pincushion #imhavingfun #makingvideogamepropsismyfavorite https://www.instagram.com/p/CG5_j-sDvuS/?igshid=1jv7xrosl2hzh

[whipstitchdarling]

He lives! He bobbles! He's got so many stripes! Thank you @rosco_labs for making this project possible. I love making props that are real-life copies of something. #animalcrossingnewhorizons #ac #acnh #animalcrossing #papertiger #papercraft #papersculpture #papermache #paint #crystalgel #scenicsets #crossingprojectsoffthelist #cosplay https://www.instagram.com/p/CGWMthDjRda/?igshid=dxvtnyb60wef

[whipstitchdarling]

I got so wrapped up in the exitement of mixing colors and starting the paint process that I fully forgot he's a bobble-head, and I had to cut him apart to create the bobble mechanism. Not to worry, a little bit of reconstructive surgery later and I'll be able to finish painting the inside and attach the head for real and he'll bobble just fine. #papercraft #papersculpture #papermache #bobblehead #papertiger #acnh #ac #animalcrossingnewhorizons #animalcrossing @rosco_labs #roscoambassador #scenicsets #crystalgel https://www.instagram.com/p/CGQKP8HjDUv/?igshid=1hxippirt2rs9

[whipstitchdarling]

Blank slate and ready for the first coat of color. #papercraft #papersculpture #papermache #acnh #ac #animalcrossingnewhorizons #animalcrossing #cantmaketheatrepropsgonnamakevideogameprops #cosplay #offbroadwayscenicpaint @rosco_labs https://www.instagram.com/p/CGNNncZD3U7/?igshid=1oez079b2cp35

[whipstitchdarling]

Giveaway Contest: We’re giving away 12 vintage paperback classics featuring Carson McCullers, John Steinbeck, Albert Camus, Kate Chopin, Jack Kerouac, and others! Won’t this collection look lovely on your shelf? :D To win these classics, you must: 1) be following macrolit on Tumblr (yes, we will check. :P), and 2) reblog this post. We will choose a random winner on October 25, at which time we’ll start a new giveaway. And yes, we’ll ship to any country. Easy, right? Good luck! Follow macrolit.books to qualify for our IG giveaway. 📚

[whipstitchdarling]

So I'm working on another Animal Crossing prop, is anyone shocked? I've decided to paper mache it with #crystalgel because I like the strength and the flexibility: it feels a little less dusty and a little smoother which better matches the feeling of the item in game. There's something so soothing about a fully covered paper mache object isn't there. No? Just me? Thanks @rosco_labs for the tiny pot of crystal gel. #papermache #papercraft #papersculpture #videogameprops #cosplay #roscoambassador #scenicsets #acnh #ac #animalcrossing #animalcrossingnewhorizons https://www.instagram.com/p/CGIQ271jvYF/?igshid=1dki6xsm8i514

[whipstitchdarling]

Delicate luna moth earrings for @k8stack who said off-handedly that she wanted some like, two months ago. Size 15s, peyote stitch. Beautifully translucent in just the right way to catch the light. I'm very very proud of these. #beadweaving #seedbeads #size15myfavoritesize #payotestitch #beadersofinstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/CF8LG9QjKRR/?igshid=ebag91hnt5ks

[whipstitchdarling]

Butterfly earrings! Wanted to try these little beauties landed softly on a long copper earwire. Definitely obsessed. More butterflies and moths are definitely in the future. #seedbeads #beadweaving #peyotestitch #jewelry #earrings #beadwork #beadersofinstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/CFNd_sRjmfF/?igshid=161yk9xg7700s

[whipstitchdarling]

[whipstitchdarling]

Omg this is the first I've seen these. Is it even safe to soak your crystals in water then drink it? Surely there's a decent risk of getting way too many of certain minerals or metals?

Lolz anyone here have expert thoughts?

On either crystals or scams 😂😂🤣🤣

@earthstory @thebibliosphere

[whipstitchdarling]

@k8stack knitted me this fantastic hat and I, in my hubris, decided I wanted to knit a scarf with the same yarn to match like, months ago. I am not a fast knitter, and also apparently I don't know how to count. I tried to just use up what I had and not need more and I'm starting to see a pattern in a lot of my projects lately. I'm six rows short. Once again, I gotta pause until I can get the littlest bit of the yarn Kate has leftover from the hat so I can finish. I don't even want to know how many projects I've run into this problem with over the last six months but I guess we can add this one to the tally too. 🙄🙄#idoknowhowtofinishthingsiswear #usingupthingsisonewrongdecimalfromrunningoutofthings #knitting #wool #somedaywinterwillbehere #smallerprojects https://www.instagram.com/p/CE2JObgD7rX/?igshid=rhu7tuxoo9ej

[whipstitchdarling]

Animal Crossing has me absolutely hooked, and the Knitted Grass Backpack quickly became my favorite item in the game. I rarely take it off in-game, and since it occurred to me that I could make one, I will probably carry this everywhere for the next few months. I bought macrame cord online to knit the outside and dyed the canvas backing and lining to match, so I wouldn't have a knitted surface on my back for comfort. I'm so pleased I was able to get it detail-perfect other than that; this project has scratched an itch I didn't realize I had. I've been missing taking a research image/object and replicating it. Many thanks to @julespeiperl for making those delightful DIY recipe cards so I could properly dress the final photos, and to @k8stack for the message in a bottle and for hunting down the matching clothes in AC so I could cosplay myself. #animalcrossing #acnh #animalcrossingnewhorizons #knitting #macrame #lotsofskillsinthisproject #bigprojectsgettingfinished #imanerd #videogameprops #cosplay #waytooproudofmyself #findyourjoywhereyoucan https://www.instagram.com/p/CEmu4mKjBsn/?igshid=1ksd65jayawkp