Sometimes my hands shake when I wish they wouldn't, but how can they not shake when the body they belong to shivers with excitement? Just seeing R47 Strong Red sends a frisson of pleasure up my spine! And all her kin bump it up several degrees. Anti-ci-paaa-tion is making me quake.
I'm torn between showing you the books I'm binding--all intended to become epistolary memoirs. No-no-no! Don't freak out! Epistolary memoirs or bits of memoir are, simply put, letters in book form. Whew! Those little folded gems won't leave me alone, so I'm ramping mine up a degree or three. Don't judge yet. Wait and see. This little Christmas gift keeps me reading and oohing and ahhing before lights out at night. There are wicked ideas between these covers. Some just plain blow my mind. Scary and good are the best descriptors for content here.
Baring my bound guts here. Had to buy new binding needles 'cause I couldn't find my old. The natural linen thread took some getting used to. It works for me though. And the books. Oh, the books on my mental assembly line keep me working day and night.
I'm stumped here thinking I should have covered the tabs too, but too little too late. The pink and yellow burns my retinas, but it's actually cute enough to compensate for the pain. Besides, my eyes return to normal by bedtime. And this is the back.
It's what's inside that counts more than anything else. Well, there's the clever design. Ahem.
Ta-dum! I knew all the binding, and bookmaking tools, and supplies would come in handy one day. Some are years old but still and all . . . As long as it doesn't go to waste. Winter months are good for more than hibernating, y'all. And booking stuff isn't just for books.
. . . to be continued