A few months ago, my sister and I would sit around, drink tea (and lattes), and talk big. About making and creating and selling (and also about leaving our jobs to sit around making stuff and drinking tea).
Then came the email.
"I've booked a stall at the Hanging Rock Market!"
Whoa now, not so fast. A stall? Don't you know I've only made just one or two little things? I have a job, and a husband, and children. And I have Doctor Who to watch.
But of course, how could I possibly say no?
This is our dream, for goodness sake!
So I have been crocheting like a mad woman, every chance I have. Ignoring the funny looks at the cafe. Politely answering questions from little children, while my daughter has her circus lessons. Getting used to saying "No, it's not knitting, it's crochet".
Then last night, I started getting a funny pain in my left wrist, and I kept waking up with pins and needles in my little finger. Hmm, maybe I should take a night off.
Two weeks to go. That's if my wrist holds up.
Cheers, Paula.
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