Last night I had several friends over for a crafting night. Some groups call themselves "Stitch and Bitch" but that never really fit our personality so we came up with a name that was more appropriate: Crafty Vixens. Crafty because we do all different crafts. Some people knit, one also crochets. I cross stitch and needlepoint. I've also quilted as has another woman. We bring snacks, though we're not big eaters, drink wine (and we've been known to put down a couple bottles of wine...), and talk and talk. It's all really wonderful and social and such fun to see what everyone is doing. The Vixens part of our name came from a particularly wonderful bottle of wine (sparkling shiraz) that we enjoyed by Fox Creek called Vixen. I can't find it any more so I suppose they must not be producing it...which is a shame.
I worked on a secret project last night, so I won't show a picture of that today... :)
Most importantly about Crafty Vixens: I was thinking about it on the way to work and how I would write about it on the blog this morning and I thought about how my Grandmother would have loved to have heard me tell her about each member of our group, what they're working on, what we ate, drank and talked about. She'd want to know what we wore, and even if the cats hung out with us. She'd like to know about what each person looks like, what they do during their "day job" and how I came to know them. (Interestingly one of our group I met AT the group as she was invited by another person who no longer comes.)
And while I was thinking about how Grandma would have loved to hear about my Crafty Vixens, and that she would have loved our name, I got to missing her desperately. I spent a good bit of my drive here crying and wondering how after six months I can still be hit with a blow to my chest that hurts so bad I can hardly breathe.