Hooking: It really is the main point of this website. Unfortunately, the stress of the last couple of month’s hasn’t been good for it. Not that I haven’t done it at all, mind you. That would be writing. I love to read and write fiction. In fact, I’m an assistant editor for the utterly fabulous, I-bet-you-can’t-wait-to-get-a-copy literary journal Fifth Wednesday. Rather, I’m usually an assistant editor. I had to sit this reading period out in order to deal with the sale of our house and the move to New Mexico. Worse, I run a local writing group, and I haven’t submitted a thing in months for the others to comment on. They’ve been very patient with me. But what would they do? Fire me?

Truthfully, I have managed to hook during this time. My sanity’s relied on it. Not that it’s been quality work, but at least I’ve done it. (Process, it’s all about the process of art, not the result. At least isn’t that what they say?) I generally hook while I watch TV in the evening; if not, I fall asleep. But the concentration’s just not there.

I recently finished a pretty big chair pad for my boss at the food pantry. He, being a priest and all, it was for the “throne” (my word, not his) that he sits on during Mass. I’d gotten through half of the mat when I had to admit that…it sucked wind. The wool just wasn’t working for me. I pulled out every one of my hand-cut strips and subbed in two aqua-colored yarns. They weren’t bad. Admittedly, the design was simplistic, created with the church’s kids in mind and my boss’s proclivity for the Maine coast.

Eventually, I finished hooking, steaming, and binding. Early one work morning, I stole into the church to make sure it fit the throne. Perfection! Until I noticed one thing: I’d drawn the damn fish upside down. DUH! My co-worker told me it was beautiful, that he’d love it. And I knew he would — because I’d made it specially for him.

Nonetheless, I have my pride. And while I don’t think a rug has to be perfect – it is a handmade item, after all, and imperfections are part of the charm – it can’t be so…incorrect. I may give it to him. Or I might not. But as soon as I get settled in New Mexico, I will be hooking a new pad for his throne. Not for his benefit or even mine, but because it’s worth doing something right if you’re going to do it at all.

Please tell me I’m not alone in my gaffe. Share one of your big boo-boos to make me feel better. Is it locked away in a cedar chest forever? Or do you take it out now and again to remind yourself of how far you’ve come?