usually made with Godwin: He could eat half her potato chips in exchange for his kosher dill pickle. Then she reapplied lipstick and drove to Hopkins for her punch needle class.
Most of her students had finished or nearly finished the chick-and-eggs pattern. Thistle had phoned Betsy on Monday, saying they wanted some more patterns, so now, up in the library, she opened her attaché case and brought out a selection.
While they were choosing, she looked at the chick patterns they’d been working on. Joy had not only made the chick a higher nap than the eggs, she had chosen to clip the loops—and she’d clipped them just a little shorter at the edges than at the center, giving a rounded effect that was, in Betsy’s word, “Brilliant!”
Joy blushed at the compliment. “If I’d had more colors, I would have made the edges just a little darker than the centers, too,” she said.
“I’ll get you all the colors you want when you punch the next one,” offered another student. “I’m making a floss run to Michael’s next week. “But I want cash in advance, no checks.”
Vivian had nearly finished her pattern. She said, “I couldn’t think of a design for the last egg, so I just punched it in yellow green. But I remember as a child an aunt and uncle who had a farm, and their chickens laid speckled eggs. How would I make a speckled egg? Do I pull out what I’ve stitched and then do the speckles and then punch the color around them?”
“No,” said Betsy, “it’s easier than that. You can leave the egg as is, if you’re satisfied with the color, but now you look at the needle on your punch.” Vivian held up her punch.
“Now, slide off one segment, to make what you’re going to punch stand up higher than what’s already there.”
“Yes, yes,” said Joy. “You told us about that at the first class; it’s how I worked my pattern.”
“Okay,” said Betsy to Vivian, “take off one segment, and thread your needle with a short length that is the color of the speckles.”
“Maroon, I think,” said Vivian. She pulled off a segment and put it carefully into the glass tube the needle was kept in, then cut about fourteen inches of the floss, divided it in half, and put three threads into her needle.
“Now,” said Betsy, “punch here and there randomly over the green egg. The speckle color will stand up just a little higher than the ground color so it doesn’t get lost. Here’s a tip: Do fewer than you think you should. You can always add more.”
Vivian punched three times, then turned her lap stand over to look at the result. “How sweet!” she exclaimed. “Just like I remember!” She punched a few more times, then lifted the needle to pull the end free. “Thank you, Betsy!”
She handed her work around to show the others the result she’d achieved, and two other women decided they wanted speckled eggs, too. “I’d like to make my blue egg speckled,” said one. “But I’ve already got a pink stripe on it.”
“Find the end of the floss on the stripe and pull gently,” said Betsy. “It will come out and you can repunch it.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute, start over!” came a familiar cry. Wilma rushed in. She was wearing an ill-fitting orange dress and a green cardigan.
“Hi, Wilma, come sit down,” said Betsy. “I have something to show you.”
“Really?” said Wilma eagerly, hurrying to sit at the table. “What is it?”
Betsy reopened her attaché case and got out the Psyche pattern she’d found in her shop, which was printed on sheets of copy paper and came in a Ziploc bag. On top was a color photograph of a finished model. She handed it to Wilma, who looked at the picture of the beautiful woman with her pink gown falling off one shoulder, her auburn hair pulled into a careless fat knot at the nape of her neck.
“I stitched this pattern a long time ago,” Wilma said with a shrug. She looked at it again, more thoughtfully. “It’s making me think of something.
Most of her students had finished or nearly finished the chick-and-eggs pattern. Thistle had phoned Betsy on Monday, saying they wanted some more patterns, so now, up in the library, she opened her attaché case and brought out a selection.
While they were choosing, she looked at the chick patterns they’d been working on. Joy had not only made the chick a higher nap than the eggs, she had chosen to clip the loops—and she’d clipped them just a little shorter at the edges than at the center, giving a rounded effect that was, in Betsy’s word, “Brilliant!”
Joy blushed at the compliment. “If I’d had more colors, I would have made the edges just a little darker than the centers, too,” she said.
“I’ll get you all the colors you want when you punch the next one,” offered another student. “I’m making a floss run to Michael’s next week. “But I want cash in advance, no checks.”
Vivian had nearly finished her pattern. She said, “I couldn’t think of a design for the last egg, so I just punched it in yellow green. But I remember as a child an aunt and uncle who had a farm, and their chickens laid speckled eggs. How would I make a speckled egg? Do I pull out what I’ve stitched and then do the speckles and then punch the color around them?”
“No,” said Betsy, “it’s easier than that. You can leave the egg as is, if you’re satisfied with the color, but now you look at the needle on your punch.” Vivian held up her punch.
“Now, slide off one segment, to make what you’re going to punch stand up higher than what’s already there.”
“Yes, yes,” said Joy. “You told us about that at the first class; it’s how I worked my pattern.”
“Okay,” said Betsy to Vivian, “take off one segment, and thread your needle with a short length that is the color of the speckles.”
“Maroon, I think,” said Vivian. She pulled off a segment and put it carefully into the glass tube the needle was kept in, then cut about fourteen inches of the floss, divided it in half, and put three threads into her needle.
“Now,” said Betsy, “punch here and there randomly over the green egg. The speckle color will stand up just a little higher than the ground color so it doesn’t get lost. Here’s a tip: Do fewer than you think you should. You can always add more.”
Vivian punched three times, then turned her lap stand over to look at the result. “How sweet!” she exclaimed. “Just like I remember!” She punched a few more times, then lifted the needle to pull the end free. “Thank you, Betsy!”
She handed her work around to show the others the result she’d achieved, and two other women decided they wanted speckled eggs, too. “I’d like to make my blue egg speckled,” said one. “But I’ve already got a pink stripe on it.”
“Find the end of the floss on the stripe and pull gently,” said Betsy. “It will come out and you can repunch it.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute, start over!” came a familiar cry. Wilma rushed in. She was wearing an ill-fitting orange dress and a green cardigan.
“Hi, Wilma, come sit down,” said Betsy. “I have something to show you.”
“Really?” said Wilma eagerly, hurrying to sit at the table. “What is it?”
Betsy reopened her attaché case and got out the Psyche pattern she’d found in her shop, which was printed on sheets of copy paper and came in a Ziploc bag. On top was a color photograph of a finished model. She handed it to Wilma, who looked at the picture of the beautiful woman with her pink gown falling off one shoulder, her auburn hair pulled into a careless fat knot at the nape of her neck.
“I stitched this pattern a long time ago,” Wilma said with a shrug. She looked at it again, more thoughtfully. “It’s making me think of something.
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