Spring, as in Where did this come from?

My Saturday cleaning yielded a surprise in the form of an unfinished (make that barely started) counted cross-stitch project. I've never been that fond of counted cross-stitch and have done very few pieces. Somewhere along the way, mid-80s from the date of the pattern book I was using, I gave myself permission to quit it.

So, there it was, at the back of the cabinet. Book, canvas, embroidery thread. LOTS of embroidery thread.

Several months ago, I'd dealt with the 100+ colors I'd found by sorting them into two small tackle boxes. As I went through this new find, I figured I'd just open the boxes and add in the new pieces.

Poor, naive me. Very few colors matched. Very few. If I was going to continue with every color/shade/slightest tint into its own section, I was going to need two new tackle boxes.

That's right: I had about 90 more colors.

(I have since made my neighbor swear to not let me buy more thread, no matter the color, nor will she buy any until she comes over and sifts through my stash.)

I go to Walmart to get two new boxes. They had clearanced that particular line before Christmas. Rather than drive all over the area looking for an exact match, I found a larger unit with 4 large divided boxes which would do.

Two hundred and nine, approx., colors sorted by family: red, pink, purple, yellow, gold, orange, brown, blue, green, blue-green, gray, ecru and its strange cousins. White and black are in the small tackle box openings.

Unreal.

Embroidery thread debacle

I learned to embroider when I was five years old. Scattered through my mother's kitchen drawers were towels and aprons done in a decidedly childish, 3-strand embroidery. We bought Aunt Martha's hot transfer patterns at the dime store and Mother would cut up old sheets and my sister and I would decorate them. Some lasted quite a long time.

So did the thread.

I don't know when my current "collection" started, but I'd wager some of it is close to 25 years old, dating to the December I made felt kit Christmas stockings for the four of us. Although the kits have become harder to find (make that near impossible), I've made 4 more: daughters-in-law and grandchildren. Each kit had more thread than needed.

So did each cross-stitch kit. Not to mention the threads I purposely bought for the vintage-esque Victorian quilt I fashioned for a friend. Or the tie quilts I've made for myself. Or the kitchen towels I embroidered just for the fun of it.

So, in need of a project, I've decided to make a new Christmas tree skirt. Our current one dates to our first Christmas and is made of felt and rickrack, glue and sequins. To say it is shabby is an understatement. It's a good thing it so quickly becomes covered with presents. I have a pattern for a machine-applique 12 days of Christmas tree skirt which I actually did make once in a sewing class and then donated to a silent auction. I believe it fetched over $200 which, given the labor involved, was a steal for the buyer.

But now I'd like to hand applique and embroider the details. I've cut out the pieces from scraps and a few new quilting fat quarters. I started gathering all the necessities, thread and needles and small scissors. A friend has given me an applique lap board which I'm not sure I'll be able to use, but I'll try. All I needed was to select my embroidery threads.

Two (or so) hours later, I had over 100 colors of thread spread out on my cutting board. Some of the shades were so close, I had to wait until the next morning to be able to determine the differences. Gazing over the threads was a review of my last quarter-century's work.

I was appalled.

It was obvious they couldn't go back into the zippie bags and get all crushed together again. Off I went to Walmart to get a tackle box. I found one I liked which would take up a minimum of space and had slide out drawers. It looked like it would hold about 60 separate colors and I thought I'd just squeeze a few in together.

It quickly became evident that that wasn't going to work. If I was going to arrange and organize, I might as well do it right. Tackle box number two was fetched.

120 colors and dividers later, I am pristine in the embroidery thread dept. I have trays of yellows, oranges, browns, blues, greens, blue-greens, reds, and pinks. I only need one more thing: black.

I have a skein, but you never know...

An open letter to my local big-box

It's not really a secret whose name appears on my local big-box store. It's familiar to all of rural America except those clever enough to forbid entry to it in order to keep their downtowns in business. Our downtown has been doing a slow-fast-slow downturn ever since the big-box arrived in the mid-70s.

But today, after three decades of being alternately surprised and disappointed in the store, I was sufficiently upset to call the 1-800 customer service number for the first time. Three minutes on hold (I was giving them 5) and I was in touch with a pleasant sounding woman who had heard it all before. "Thank you for calling and I'll refer your comments to the proper people." Or words to that effect.

And my complaint? I went looking for a larger embroidery hoop, (and embroidery was going to be the subject of my today's blog but it will wait until my snit disappears), and not immediately finding it, decided I'd find the embroidery floss instead. (I knew the customer service rep had heard my complaint before because I said 'thread' and she replied with the proper term 'floss.') There wasn't any. None. No three or four hundred colors for me to scan and salivate over, touch and compare. Last summer I'd had a high old time picking out colors for the grandbaby's quilt. This summer looked to be another matter.

So I slunk over to the sales person and leaned in. Had I, by any chance, missed the embroidery thread? No, she informed me, it had been gone for several months and had taken the hoops with it. Many customers had been disappointed. I could call the 800 number and she gave it to me.

Feeling she was definitely on my side, I wasted no time in complaining. Alas, I found out more than I wanted to. Hold onto your shears, fellow fabric craftsmen, the world is changing.

The fabric department as we know it is being phased out. In its place will be a "life celebrations" department. (oh, please) Their research had shown that most people now shopped for wedding, birthday and their ilk celebration items instead of fabric. There would still be fabric, she assured me, it would just be pre-cut and not on the bolt.

I was stunned. This was going to be everywhere, all stores. So, I asked, never mind that the company had made their money on rural America, rural America would be driving 30 miles (in my case) to get fabric? I should have asked about thread and seam binding, but my mouth was already on the floor.

I am so disappointed and I told her so. Not that my opinion counts, but if there are enough of us, maybe eventually they'll see the error of their ways. Or not. But we'll feel better. And then I won't be putting quilting pins in the little box I'd like to make.

If I could find the fabric.