On a roll with failure

Tonight I looked into the “drafts” folder on the blog and found some surprise items. So here come a few posts started quite a long while ago. I do remember writing this one, but how did I not post it? Looks to me like I could not get images sorted out once I had the text drafted. It’s a thing that stops me posting sometimes!

Every once in a while, I feel like I get on a roll with getting things wrong. Like having a reverse superpower. Yesterday (the day before I started writing), I was feeling glum. I’d had some boring old virus (not the new pandemic one, which is good). So I’d been feeling a bit stupid the way a person can under the influence of pathogens. But even so. I’d made a very misshapen zippered pouch. Surely that shouldn’t be hard? I made the awesome zebra finch hat and thought I might make one for myself, lined with fabric I had been saving for, well, years. What did I even do wrong? I don’t know, but it is too small, and awkwardly misshapen. It cannot be a hat for an actual person. This slowed down the pace of my sewing, I will admit. And then, my 6 km walk in a national park grew to 11.5 km which was a bit much for me that day. The next day when I was perhaps a little weary, I realised my first batch of olives had grown mould. That was discouraging!

Well, these things happen. And don’t you love the way these things are all different, and happened over some weeks in which I maybe made an entire jumpsuit with great success, did some perfectly excellent mending, made sauerkraut and some pickled wombok and pickled ginger and enjoyed jam and pickles I’ve made without any mould at all. And I also grew vegetables, made compost, sang songs and walked places where I never doubted I was on the right path, kilometre after kilometre. So I gave myself a talking to about my sad sack yesterday and decided I could just crack on with doing stuff and everything would be fine. I put Australia’s Biggest Singalong on, and half watched it as I enlarged a piece of patchwork from the stash to create a banner for #stitchitdontditchit. Then cut out the letters from a pair of dead jeans a friend gave me. Then double checked I had the hashtag right and corrected it. The singalong finished and on came a film I had heard about but not seen. Well, I stayed up late sewing and watching Florence Foster Jenkins, starring Meryl Streep as the lead, a wealthy woman who appears not to realise she really can’t sing, and is supported in this belief by those around her for various reasons. And who ultimately puts on a concert with herself as the star, in Carnegie Hall.

So just imagine me getting up the next day, finishing the last few letters on my banner, and then looking at it and going wait… is that right? And you know what? It is NOT RIGHT. In fact, it is dead WRONG. Hilarious. Not. Hilarity requires a bit of time! My daughter said to me, well, can’t you just cut it up and sort it out? So in the end, that’s just what I did!

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