Dropping Bombs and Cross Stitching

These are a few of my favourite things . . . .

Since we have yet another quiet weekend ahead of us, I am itching to get crafty.  I am itching to do a project.  Lately, I have been working on my cards and the month before Christmas I was a sewing fool, but I want a different kind of project now. I saw a friend of mine knitting a pair of mittens the other day at soccer and I began salivating. Oh, I wish I could wield a pair of knitting needles like it is nobody's business, but I can't.  I have tried, and I just can't seem to make them work or create anything other than a scarf.  Nope, knitting is out.  So, I got it in my head that I should do a cross stitch. I haven't cross-stitched since University, when the girls and I would all cram into a tiny dorm room, watch Melrose Place, smoke cigarettes and cross-stitch. Eeeek! Did I just drop that bomb?  Well, it is out there.  Yes, I used to smoke in University, and truth be told, I loved every gosh-darn minute of it.  Crazy, right?  Yes, it is.  And disgusting.  And it is the one thing that I have told my children that if they ever do, I will beat them until they are black and blue.  It's my job.  I do the stupid stuff in life and they learn from my mistakes.  Sounds good to me!

Anyhoo . . .

Where was I before I dropped that bomb?

Right, cross-stitching!

So yesterday, armed with my birthday, gift cards from Fabricville, I went searching for a cross-stitch and I was utterly disappointed.  I'm really not into the winter scenes, the tiger faces or the busy Italian streets . . . eeek!  But, I did not let that get me down.  Armed with a renewed determination to find my cross-stitch, I went to Indigo books (yet another birthday gift card that is burning a whole in my pocket), and much to my dismay, they had NOTHING!

 No cross-stitch books?  What is this world coming to?

Thankfully, I bumped into a like-minded crafter, who happened to be buying a knitting book.  Again, I began to salivate, and told her all about my love-hate relationship with knitting. She consoled me and then asked about the projects I had on the go.  I told her all about my cross-stitching woes, and like an angel, who was sent down from the Heavens to boost my spirits and lighten my way along the path to cross-stitch nirvana, she imparted a secret, THE secret.

No one uses books anymore.  All the patterns are on the Internet AND many of them are free.

I could have kissed her right there in the middle of Indigo, right on the lips.  (and no this is not another bomb that needs to be dropped . . . tee hee!)  But I restrained myself and thanked her profusely.

The Internet!  This had never even occurred to me because the last time I cross-stitched, the Internet was just getting going and really was not user-friendly.  So, although I was frustrated that I was going home empty handed, I was hopeful that I would find a pattern of awesomeness on the Internet as soon as the kids went to bed.

Nine o'clock finally came.  We read our scripture, said our prayers, doled out our kisses, and I was out of there!  I grabbed my jammies, brushed my teeth, and hopped into bed with the laptop.  Mr. Level-Headed joined me and asked what I was doing.  I told him all about my grand plans and the heavenly messenger that was sent my way . . . tee hee!  Then, we got down to business.  Not valentine business like the rest of the world, but searching for cross-stitch patterns kind of business (that Mr. Level-Headed, he is one lucky man).  Tired of scrolling past more winter scenes, more tiger faces, and even more busy Italian streets, I found a site called Subversive Cross-Stitch, and I was intrigued.  I opened it up, and immediately, I knew I had found cross-stitch nirvana.  This site was filled with pages and pages of brightly coloured cross-stitch patterns, some with hearts, some with tiny birds, and all of them bearing a message with the F-bomb right there in the middle of all their cuteness.  Mr. Level-Headed and I laughed, and laughed and laughed.  I am talking about tears rolling down your face, belly-aching, laughs.

They are so you!  

And here is where I drop another bomb:

 I, Krista Skov-Nielsen, a loving wife, a doting mother of three, and a devout Latter-Day Saint woman  LOVE the f-word.  

And truly, when I say, LOVE, I mean LOVE.  I LOVE how it rolls off my tongue when I am in the midst of the deepest turmoil, I LOVE how Mr. Level-Headed laughs his butt-off whenever I let one drop, and I LOVE how it makes me erupt into fits of giggles whenever I hear other well-intentioned, straight-laced people like myself, slip one out. It is truly my favourite word!  

Now, don't get me wrong.  I do not use it all the time. In fact, I really try not to use it, and I hate when people just throw it out there, flippantly, and use it in everyday speech. No, this word needs to be treated with respect.  It needs to be carefully guarded and reserved strictly for those all too real, way too heavy, human moments that leave you stripped of all strength and self-control.  And it is in these moments, and only these moments, that I LOVE to utter it.  

Now, some of you may be asking yourself: 

How can she call herself a devout Latter-Day Saint if she swears like a long shoreman?

Well, you have a point. Can I call myself a devout follower of Jesus Christ when I have so many obvious faults? Can I truly call myself a Mormon when I jokingly muse that in heaven I will be the one wearing a muumuu, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, watching soap operas and dropping the occasional F-bomb?

I really hope the answer to all of these questions is yes because I believe it is.  Religion and faith are not reserved for those elite few who have achieved perfection in this world.  In fact, if that was the case, religion would not exist.  We all have weaknesses.  We all have limitations.  We all make mistakes, and God loves us all the more because of them.  And contrary to what you may think, it is those who go to Church, who know this.  They know they are weak.  They know they make mistakes, and they know that they can't make it in this world without Him.

God knows who I am.  He knows the path I have travelled.  He has been there to celebrate my victories, and He has been there to pick me up and brush me off when I fall, which is a lot.  This is what religion and faith are all about: believing in God, believing in His unconditional love for us no matter how weak we are, and believing that no matter how wide we allow the divide to grow between who we are and who we can be, He will always be there by our side, cheering us on and encouraging us every step of the way.

So, the answer is yes.

I, Krista Skov-Nielsen, can be a loving wife, a doting mother of three, a devout Latter-Day Saint Woman, and a lover of the F-bomb.

You can find your subversive cross-stitch here

And I really hope that none of you think any less of me because of it.



Why, do I feel this overwhelming need to share EVERYTHING?

 . . .  tee hee!

Happy Friday, everyone!