My mom taught me how to cross stitch many moons ago. I remember walking with her into Michael’s for something, and I would come away with one of the sewing kits for kids– you know the large painted-on plastic grid with holes the size of dimes, a plastic “needle”, and fat colorful yarn.
When I visited my friend Stacie in Scotland in 2004, we both picked up small “adult” level cross stitch patterns as souvenirs. They were light, easily packed, a way to keep busy on the train, and excellent mementos of our visits. In fact, Mom received a bookmark of a Celtic cross that I did– I’m sure she was happy to receive a cross stitch from me that was not two feet long and made of plastic and yarn.
On this trip, I am continuing the tradition and recently picked up a lavender sachet in York. Even though…
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