Skip to main content

Problem or Opportunity

So, I'm working on this diamond tank top and I get to the second half of the second diamond and then it hits me.....This pattern is wrong! The diamonds aren't lining up correctly. Actually the diamond was too small by one whole row. I got help with the first diamond so I'm thinking, "Did my friend, Diana, do it wrong?"

No, she did not. She made a bad pattern work. I figured out how to make it work properly, silently cursed the designer (or Family Circle for printing it wrong) but definitely not happy with whomever is causing me to have problems with this pattern. Then...I frog my work back to the second half of the first diamond. Yeah, my husband thought I was nuts, too. But when something isn't right and you're giving it as a gift...you take the time to make it right...and so I did.

So glad that I took the time to make it right. I learned that I am capable of correcting a bad pattern. I learned that I am capable of making the tough decision to rip out hours of hard work to achieve a beautiful end result. And I learned that I don't always quit when the going gets rough.

I guess I can see this as a problem...or...an opportunity. It was a great opportunity to learn something new. Now I feel like I pulled on my big girl panties and made a positive difference in my life.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Creep

  Have you ever used the internet to look up an old flame? How about an old arch-enemy? Did you have the intention to reconnect? Me neither.

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my