So, I'm ever-so-slightly obsessed with yo-yos. Fabric ones.
I started making them on the car ride down to Thanksgiving (seven hours to kill each way, dudes; I had to do something). Aren't they cute? I had all this Christmas-y fabric around that I wasn't going to use for anything (don't ask where it came from, because I don't know -- craft supplies just seem to turn up here. Maybe we're on a migratory path or something), and my friend Sarah had shown me this summer how to make yo-yos with handy-dandy yo-yo makers, so, I mean, duh.
There's something incredibly satisfying about little hand-sewn projects. It's soothingly repetitive the way stockinette knitting is, but not as mind-numbingly dull. I think... wow. I think after many years of knitting, and a good few years of crochet, I just might be turning out to be a sewer. Sew-er. Sewist. Person who sews. (There must be a better word for this.)
This week (Tuesday, if you're curious. During Glee, if you're wanting precision), I finally stopped making the little cuties, and started sewing them together into a long, long string. I'm not halfway through the pile and have about fifteen feet so far. Evergreen garlands on the stair railing will be swathed in garlands of kitschy Christmas yo-yos. Ho yo-yo! (Sorry.)