Day 88/100. I remember my mother sewing cross stitch patterns. The evenweave fabric with its neat grid of dots stretched taut into wooden hoops or frames. The neat rows of X’s in different colored threads that would turn into shapes. I think my mother sewed patterns that were houses or flowers or small landscapes. I think there were also Precious Moments-type children characters. Or maybe I think that because even now in our bedrooms back home, there is a blue framed cross stitch of a boy t...
