Sunday, I spent my evening mourning the loss of Rue McClanahan while having a “Golden Girls” marathon. I also began a new hobby: needlepoint. Monday, I turned 26.

I’m not sure what spurred this current “obsession” with needlepoint, but I’m pretty sure it had to do with these darling key fobs I found online several weeks ago, specifically the “cosmo” and “pig” fobs. As soon as I saw them I thought, “What a cute gift! I could do that!” and thus began my quest into the great unknown of needlepoint. A Facebook/Twitter friend suggested a store in Little Rock where I could start my journey and Saturday, I dragged my boyfriend to Yarn Mart [Quick, somebody get that man a cookie!] to find my first needlepoint canvas. I’ve been hooked ever since!!

I was confused as to why all of a sudden this hobby had consumed my thoughts. Then I began thinking about the lovely childhood weekends I spent alternating between my grandmothers’ homes, which I’ve mentioned in previous posts (HERE and HERE). Thinking back, I faintly remember sewing at Ottie’s house and of those memories I most vividly remember her tracing illustrations onto muslin for me to cross-stitch. Currently, cross-stitch isn’t appealing to me, but maybe one day…

Ottie was a very talented needleworker (is that a word?), making needlepoint stockings for my sister and me [that we still use every Christmas] and small pillows with pictures of our childhood pups Sugar and Isabelle [that still grace our beds in our parents’ house]. My mom also reminded me  that Ottie helped stitch the beautiful needlepoint altar rail kneeling cushions in my hometown church.

So perhaps this sudden “obsession” isn’t so random in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it’s just in my blood…