It is a tale of horror, that only a dedicated tatter can fully, truly appreciate. It is a story of stitching certain to smite a lover of lace with great despair. Beware! Read no further if you be sensitive to tatting loss and dismay. Turn away if picot pain and stitching sorrow wring the heart, causing unbidden tears to flow when words of shuttle woe oppress the spirit. Hear my tale of doily distress, Dear Reader, only if your heart be strong and true, for my story will surely wrest all calmness from your thoughts, only to replace them with foul images of lace in the making gone terribly awry...
I was at my daughter's home in NYC. I was tatting. I put the bag with the border, (with that Australian thread that took so very long to arrive - remember?) the trusty Tat-Pic and the LaCossette shuttles down for a minute and...poof! The project and tools vanished without a trace!
We are all mystified; there was really nowhere for the plastic bag with all my stuff to easily disappear to. We turned the apartment upside down as the family searched for the missing project. Nothing.
I am convinced that whole pattern, thread and process was jinxed from the beginning. So, into the cupboard goes the centre part, which luckily remained at home. I shall give it away as it is. I'm done with finishing it. Sad, because there were only 4 more repeats. : (
On to the Renulek. : )