A sense of progress

A piece of the purse is done! This is mostly because instead of cleaning the garage or going out to a party in the city or clearing the desk or handling the pile of thrift-store fabric piled between the bed and the dresser, I hung out watching “A Life Less Ordinary” and crocheting. This is alarming: I haven’t started any other projects since I started working on this bag, and I haven’t abandoned it halfway through and stashed it in with the growing yarn pile. Yet. The bag will have four feet of strap instead of six because I was losing my mind with the stupid seven-stitch-wide boredom machine. I was running out of yarn, anyway.

Now the strap is blocking. By “blocking,” I mean “it’s getting the hell blocked out of it.” I attached the two ends to make a big loop, soaked it with water, hung the loop over the shower head and hung one of my big enameled pots off the bottom with a coathanger. Now it looks stretched out like someone’s neck in the movies when a highwayman holds a sharp knife to someone’s throat and demands all their money and the person’s head is held so high up to get away from the blade that you can hear him breathing funny. Ahh, cotton, the fiber that takes all the abuse you can dish out and begs for more.

Now if I can just find my pins, I can cure the other two pieces that are supposed to be rectangular of their slight but definite trapezoidal tendencies and then the bag will be ready for assembly and finishing! And then photography! And then it will be flung as far from me as possible because no way in hell would I carry around a pink bag with me in public.

Not for more than a couple days, anyway.