Thoughts on being torn apart by wild animals

It's been two years since I last posted. On August 10, 2015 I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease (PD).

I was reading articles on dealing with PD while riding an exercise bike and listening to The Man Who Sold the World: “A chance to die to turn to mold.”

There is advice on planning for your impending decrepitude. Best case I only have 20 to 30 years. I might be helpless as young as 80 something. Okay, that's not so bad.

At 15 I thought I didn't want to live past 30. In the month before my thirtieth birthday I found a new job and moved into a new house. Now at more than twice that age I'm glad I lived. BTW, my first wife was not worried about me killing myself. She just assumed that I would go to bed on August 7, 1983 and not wake up.

As I read about all the directives and planning I need to do I again return to the dreams of my youth. Well, actually I've talked to my boys about this before.

I've always had a soft spot in my heart for nature. I know I'm in trouble when I start to feel separate from nature. A friend noticed that since I started treatment I am easily distracted by birds flying by. In my youth I loved to watch birds.

Again in my teens I dreamt of being buried in a simple pine box to decay and molder back into the earth. My favorite dream was being buried at sea in the Laguna Madre, food for my early arch enemies: hardheads and crabs. But perhaps my favorite and most bizarre dream was that near the end I would go into the wild to be torn apart and eaten by wild animals: pumas, coyotes, bobcats, &c. and finally my great love, vultures.

As I go through these thoughts I begin to wonder about my mental state. I read the following on the National Parkinson Foundation Web Site under “What Are the Treatment Options for Psychosis?”

“ The clinician must determine if the psychotic symptoms are related to medication side effects, dementia or delirium.”

So where do I really stand mentally. Some may think wanting to be torn apart and eaten by wild animals might be a bit on the psychotic side, but I thought it through.

Given the number of medications I take it would be an act of cruelty to allow a poor beastie to eat me. It would also poison the earth to decay in a pine box. I suppose the only sane thing is to ask for cremation at a place familiar with disposal of hazardous materials.

TTFN

All the pieces fall together

I'm so tired I took a short nap this evening. I am glad my wife called when she did. I should be able to get to sleep now that it is approaching bed time. You'll understand later why I was so tired.

I do not believe in coincidence. I do have a strong belief in providence. I also believe that if we allow ourselves to be guided we develop into the person we are supposed to be.

I wish I could say I am a lace maker. I hope I can say it again soon. But what is it that makes me good at crafts of this type. One could say a love for tedium, but actually sometimes in the mist of meticulous endeavor I sometime just wish it would end. I actually can feel surges of stress going through my body and then I carry on with more energy than before. I suppose that is part of what we call tenacity.

The last few days have reminded me of how much my life is out of control and yet being lead.

Last Saturday we learned that my brother had left us on Thursday July 4, 2013. The authorities had told his neighbor that they would contact the family but they never did. We had to hear about it through neighbors and friends. In the end we were lucky to have a cousin who is a Corpus Christi Police Officer. He called the morgue and verified that indeed my brother was there.

Then comes the planning to leave. My youngest had a great day camp scheduled for this week and my wife really had to stay for other reasons. So my two older sons and myself would travel to my home town of Kingsville, Texas.

At first mom wanted me to wait until just before the service to come. She didn't want me to have to pay for a hotel. My wife, the Engineer, insisted that I go as soon as I could to help my mother. As always my wife was correct. I needed to be here. And it was good to have an excuse to leave my youngest. My two older boys have their computers, movies and books. They enjoyed staying in the hotel while I attended to my mother's needs. I hate to say it but my youngest would have put a bit more strain and limitations on my getting things done.

On Saturday while discussing the trip my wife thought I should consider buying a laptop computer so I would have something to occupy my mind when I wasn't busy. I talked her and myself out of this. I have a desk top and though ancient it serves me well for the most part.

Then on Sunday she said you really aught to go to Costco and look at laptops. So we went. And though I could not convince myself that I needed a laptop for some reason I bought one, a nice one.

So in all my preparation for the trip I also had to prepare the laptop. What files would I need what tools did I need to configure while on my home network. The normal system updates alone were taking forever on WiFi so I hooked it up directly. Given the really lame WiFi at the hotel it would probably still be running, if it didn't fail outright. The abomination of a network won't let me send emails from Windows Live Mail. I need to go to some website and prove that my email address is from a human. Fortunately my providers website and Microsoft's Hotmail site allow me to send email.

It turned out that the computer has been critical in dealing with the Funeral arraignments and one other associated task.

I have been communicating on FaceBook and it is through this site that the family has passed news of my brother's death and the arraignments. In one particular case one of my niece's cousins, who I know I met at the last few funerals sent a friend request and messaged me. She asked me to call her which I did within half an hour of her request. She had read the obituary and she needed to know what had happened to her uncle.

But the main thing that the computer was instrumental in was one of those many somethings that we are not always prepared for and I do not know if anyone else in the close family could have succeeded as I did. Partially because I have a background in computers and partially because I am the type of person who can enjoy the tedium of lace making.

One of the first task my family wanted me to do was to find a way to back up Paul's computer. I won't go into it here but there are a lot of things that have happened leading up to Paul's death that do not make any sense. He had rented a new laptop and sold his old computer. There was nothing, absolutely nothing on the computer. Oh, we wont go into how using his note book of passwords I was able to come up with the password for new new computer. But where were all his pictures and such?

One of the true oddities of recent events was that the police had locked down the trailer after his death. But they did let his estranged wife go in to get some clothes and she took his iPhone. She claimed that her's was dead and she used Paul's phone to call and let us know about his demise.

Mom did get the phone back fairly quickly but it was out of charge. It was when we went to check out the trailer and try and retrieve the data from his computer that I found the charger and we removed the cable from the computer. My niece charged the phone over night and we went to the AT&T store to have the number changed so she could use the phone.

It was when we meet at the AT&T store that we discovered that he had a lock on his phone. Since I had just the day before broken the code to his computer it took three tries to unlock the phone.

We did change the number and put a new SIM card in the phone. They were going to reset the phone to factory defaults when I asked the clerk if there was a way to retrieve things like contacts or photographs. She didn't have a way at the store so I said I would try and we could reset it later. Then the stark blight of my toil began.

I hooked the phone to my computer and went to look at the photos. Only Camera Roll showed up on my computer so I called AT&T. The very nice and helpful clerk soon admitted that this was more of an Apple thing so on came Amber. The first clerk had explained how Camera Roll is where the pictures you take with the iPhone reside. The other folders were synced from a computer. Amber very nicely explained that iPhones are not meant to trade data between different computers but given the situation they would try to come up with a work around. The two she came up with would have taken days with substandard results.

While she was researching I was looking at various functions on the iPhone. I finally asked what is Photo Stream. This resulted in a bright flash of light and a loud gong sound. She did a little research and we started testing. We selected a couple of pictures in one of the folders by first clicking edit and then tapping the photos. We then selected share, tapped photo stream, tapped create new photo stream, tap next and finally post. Then we opened the photo stream then again tap edit, tap the photos, tap share, tap Camera Roll. It actually took several tries to get this sequence but now we had it. I thanked her. It was a 42 minute phone exchange.

And then it began. Attach the phone to my computer. Copy Camera Roll to my computer, delete the contents of Camera Roll. Go to the phone. Open a folder. Select edit and then tap every photo, select share, select photo stream, create or add to a photo stream, tap next and tap post. Open the photo stream, select edit and then every photo, select share, select Camera Roll. Wait and then disconnect the phone from the computer, reconnect the phone to the computer. A then you repeat the process with a different folder.

At some point I discovered that somewhere around 500 pictures the process stops. So for the fuller folders I had to extract the photos in groups of three to four hundred.

So here is where being used to repetitive, meticulous crafts paid off. There were 15 folders with a total of 3,518 photos each of which I touched at least twice. With mistakes and the like some photos were touched more that twice.

After this I kept one complete set, Paul's widow wanted everything saved. I found an app to retrieve the contacts, but I did not extract the music. It was Paul's phone they were separated, so I did not want to deal with ownership issues of copyrighted music.

I do not wish to seam cold but she is lucky to get what I will be giving her. I did not want to transfer all of the photos. Some are not appropriate to my moral outlook. But at this point I took on the persona of an archivist and I did want to save everything for the widow. She was in a lot of the pictures. Fortunately not any of the questionable ones. This process along with resetting the phone took over 12 hours, not counting the phone call.

There was a reason for expediency. The funeral home, but more so, my mother and my niece wanted wanted pictures of Paul and his grand kids for a video montage to run during the funeral and I had to get the pictures to the Funeral Director by 9:00 am.

I needed to find some pictures and I need to remove any objectionable pictures so I could make a DVD for my mother and my niece. I went through every picture and selected the ones we needed and deleted the ones inappropriate for my niece and mother. In addition to the porn, my niece had told me she wanted to have nothing to do with guns, not even see them. There were several pictures of just guns and a few with her father with a gun. Including what I think was the gun.

I emailed the pictures to the Funeral Director at 2:38 in the morning and reset her phone. My niece now as a like new from the factory iPhone 5 and we will have pictures of my brother with his grand kids and I am able to look back on my life and my recent chance purchase and see how I was uniquely prepared to help my family in this endeavor. Even that one decision to pay a little more for a DVD drive. I was told most people just down load stuff now. But I will be leaving three DVDs here, which would not exist but for everything that lead to this day. It would have been sad for my niece to lose these memories. Now to bed and then its time to say good bye.

Musings on a tattered life

Can you believe it was April of 2011 the last time I made an entry. I cannot blame Facebook since it has only been the last couple of months that I have started getting hooked in the universe.

I guess part of my issue is that with everything such else (kids, health issues, the violin) I have not been that involved with lace and this blog was begun as an area for my thoughts on tatting, though I did extend it to bobbin lace at one point. This post will touch very little on lace and may actually be a little sad towards the end.

I am staying in a motel in my home town. I do not know when I lost the habit of visiting, but I rarely return to this little town in South Texas. Kingsville.

Though I have not done any lace making in a long time I cut off a UFO and brought some shuttles and thread along with one of my tatting boxes.

I have been having a rough time with my knees lately and the osteoarthritis was exacerbated recently when I was a Walking Den Leader at this year's Cub Scout Day Camp. I loved being able to spend time with my youngest and the rest of the den, but obviously my knees cannot tolerate that much walking, especially in a semi-rough terrain.

I was going to have one of my knees replaced last September but another member of the family became ill so we put it off. I now plan on having one of the knees replaced after the first of the year.

I will be limited physically for a few weeks so I really want to have my lace making up to at least an intermediate level so I can use the craft to distract from my situation. I don't want to be struggling with things like how to join at the end of a doily or having to frog stitch (rip it rip it) because I forgot to put a twist in before going around a pin.

But now why am I back in Kingsville. Unfortunately over the last few years my visits have almost always been to say good bye to that which remains of a person after that which defines a person has left them. Most unfortunately the last four times the loss was self inflicted and all in one family.

So here I sit late at night thinking about today's trip and the things my mother and I will need to attend to tomorrow. The trip was uneventful and even given the nature of the visit very enjoyable. But as my doctor once said, I am a dweller and there is nothing I can do about that.

As one would expect I am having difficulty focusing, though I was able to maintain focus on my driving even with in the musings that occupied my thoughts for some 238 miles, tattered musings at that.

It always amazes me that as much as I remember disliking so many things about this area as a kid just how much I love this place. I especially enjoy the drive, watching the land become south Texas. It is just so beautiful. And then I think about my kids sitting behind me. The glow of movies on their lap tops lighting their faces.

We could see the Celanese Plant from the by passafter dark. I always thought of how amazing how the plant always reminded me of a ship at night, though more lit up than anything I had ever seen off of Bob Hall Pier. I explained to the boys that I had been told that there were three sister plants built and that the Kingsville/Bishop plant was the only one that had not blown up. I then engaged in a little hyperbole and told my oldest that if the plant were to blow up we would be in part of the hole. My middle son had already gone back to his movie.

I think that neither one of them was much impressed that their grandfather had spent his entire work life in that plant or that after the 1987 explosion of the Pampa plant most of their grandmother's family had worked on the rebuild, including their mother. I wonder if any of my in-laws are aware that the plant they help rebuild ceased production in 2009 and is being turned in to an industrial park.

My sons's lack of interest in the land and it beauty put me in a very meditative mood. One of those moods where memories just come, seemingly from nowhere. Though just as I recognize so many of the sights even after all these years I know the memories are also there, waiting to comfort or to torment, though mostly this day to bring calm and resignation.

I remember a drive many years ago. I must have been late junior high or early high school. My brother would have been about the age of my middle son, or even my youngest. I don't remember where we were going Corpus Christ or Mexico, just some forgotten trip, except for this one memory.

Paul was tired and back then cars didn't have seat belts. He laid down sideways and placed his head on my lap. Hard to imagine with my kids. Even tonight at the hotel my oldest insist that he will not sleep with anyone. So my middle one and I are sharing a queen size bed.

I remember Paul starting to breath quietly and then there was that little jerk that lets you know he had fallen asleep. Well I didn't know it at the time, it startled me. So I asked dad if he was alright and dad explained that we do that sometimes when we fall asleep. Then I remember stroking his hair for a while, watching him and hearing him breath.

Paul was born on June 11, 1958 a few days latter I remember sitting in the back seat of the station wagon and being allowed to hold him all the way from the hospital to our home. Years later we sold that station wagon and I remember feeling sorry for Paul. He cried. After all his world had always included that vehicle. And though I was rarely around my world had always included Paul, for better and worst.

On July 4, 2013 while I was alone, my wife at work, my oldest at Philmont Scout Ranch and my two other sons at Schlitterbahn on an Alter Server field trip, over two hundred miles away my brother was in torment and for some reason I will never know he chose to leave us. But for some reason I still have not cried.

Tomorrow I will see my mother for the first time in many months. Actually is might have been just after July 4, 2011. And just now as I finish these tattered musings I feel like I am about to cry.

A busy time and a few new tools

I wish I had more time for crafts and I do wish I had more time to share my world with, well, the world.

I have been agonizing over last weekend’s Pack Campout. I have two Webelos (my son and his best friend) and by tradition the newly elevated Senior Webelos prepare the meal for the Pack at the Spring Campout. All went fairly well. I was a little short on Taco Meat and Pizza pockets, but made up for it with the two cobblers. They were excellent.

On top of this our Pastor called a meeting with two choir directors and myself to plan an up coming Confirmation Mass with the Bishop. I am the “Music Resource Person” for the Parish. I do miss leading a choir, but that’s another rant.

But on to my crafty life, I have been working on “the project that does not exist”; a cross-stitch kit that I am making as a gift and I am trying to get my boys to not talk about it. I started it about a month ago and thought I would have it in time for a birthday next month until the day I noticed I had worked exactly on hour and knew exactly how many stitches I had made. I should be able to complete the project in less than 270 hours, so Christmas then.

I didn’t get much done at my Bobbin Lace class last Tuesday (yesterday). Some days it is just too much fun to be more social than dedicated. Well for one thing it was the last official class of the semester so we all brought “finger foods”. For another our local bobbin maker visited and brought some of her wares for us to admire desire and acquire.(http://www.lacebobbins.com/).

I was able to resist buying a pair of really nice tatting shuttles, but that was the end of my resolve. I bought a pair of what I believe are her Barley Twist one in Kingswood and one in Ebony, I also bought a pair of Fancy Turned Bobbins that do not really match anything on her Web Site but as you can see they are very nice.

I also bought a scissor tip cover. She had several with an elastic monofilament string of bead and I was quite taken with one with a Cat bead, but decided I would do my own beads (still regret it a bit, but mine should still be nice). Cute kitty though.

I also bought a hoop style pin puller, DymondWood-Fuchsia color.



I am also including pictures of some of my older tools made by Fran; my v-style puller with matching crochet hook and pricker.

And finally my oldest tools, my tatting set of three crochet hooks and knot un-doer tapestry needle thingy.

Well as you can see, though I had a lot to do after my class I did manage to spangle the two pairs.

I also added a couple of Hedgies to my collection. I won a silent auction item at our Elementary School’s PTA silent auction which included a plush Fox and a gift certificate which covered most of the cost of the two Hedgies. They are the two brown ones on each side of the WebKinz Hedgie in the center. I also placed the winning bid on a Violin Lesson but that’s another story. Poor thing (violin) had not seen the light of day in twenty years.

TTFN
Pat T.

Aren't my toys nice

I wondered if I would get to this today. It has gotten to be a busy evening.

At my bobbin lace class today I started a test of pattern 3 from Underwood’s Introducing Traditional Bedfordshire Lace in 20 Lessons. The interesting event of the last couple of days was that all of my bobbins were off the pillow. Though some did have thread on them.

I took this opportunity to photograph the various groups of bobbins.

When I first started this class in the summer of 2008 the friend who invited me (one of my sons' Godmother) had made some skewer based bobbins. I know my oldest son still has some of these and hopefully I will find them and present them here.

My first set of “real” bobbins was an anniversary gift from my wife back in 2008; six dozen Lacis 4” hardwood bobbins. I like them but they are too big to fit my Mattson Mora winder. These old hands do not like winding too many bobbins.

I made an order for supplies in September of 2009 and added a dozen of the SMP Traditional Middland bobbins and thought I was set up. But before February of 2010 I decided to go through Underwoods’s Introducing Traditional Bedfordshire Lace in 20 Lessons and knew I would need more bobbins.

In July of 2010 I ordered 200 bobbins from SMP in England. This order included 50 of the Traditional Midlands and 50 of the Fancy Midlands. The remaining 100 are Honiton, but that’s another book and another dream. These turned into another wonderful anniversary (August 21) present.

It took a bit too finally get the 100 midlands spangled, and there were times I thought I might be a bit whelmed. But before Christmas 2010 I found myself in spangling withdrawal and ordered a dozen of the polished beech East Midlands from van Sciver, my favorite supplier.

So that’s 72 Lacis, 62 Traditional Midlands, 50 Fancy Midlands, and 12 Beech East Midlands for a total of 196 bobbins, or 98 pairs.

Ok I also have two commemorative bobbins. One from Hilary Davies' class last November the other was a prize.

Last Christmas season the Lace Guild in England had this fun Advent Calendar where you got hints indicating the location of a particular style of lace, and if you were able to identify the style of lace associated with each and every hint you were entered in a drawing. Two were selected and I have a second commemorative bobbin, Two Turtle Doves.

They are beautiful aren’t they? At some point I started using primarily semiprecious stone beads. And I found that I had more fun if I made two matching spangles at a time as this requires half the thought.

At this point I guess it is time to seriously think about moving up to the next level of bobbins, we have a wonderful local maker, but that is not really a consideration at this time as I might have enough bobbins for my immediate plans.

Pattern3 only takes 18 pairs, and even if I start this Torchon piece I want to do I have more than enough. Its was March of 2009 when I finished my last Torchon piece and I want to make sure I remember the technique plus I have a beautiful Gold Velveteen Roller Pillow by Van-Dieren I received last July. Not only have I not used it I have not shown it to my lace friends. I’ll get into pattern 3 and then start looking at the Torchon.

I have to find more time to make lace

Just a short note to express my joy and my distress.

First the distress, I hope I can make more time for lace making. I spend time studying, but I have little opportunity to actually make lace outside of my class, which due to the child care situation I cannot attended during the summer or the holidays.

I have been wanting to work on several types of lace but some time ago I decided to go through Barbara M Underwood’s Introducing Traditional Bedfordshire Lace in 20 lessons. Lesson 2 has two patterns. Most lessons have one but there are a few with even more.

On top of this I do not just make an ‘L’ to practice a corner I make a square. So I was aware that with the additional number of repetitions and the lack of time I might take a bit to get through the book, but after finishing Pattern 2b I had a frightening discovery.

I finished Pattern 2a on March 3, 2010. Take away the summer and the few weeks I spent on a project from a class with Hilary Davies it still seems unbelievable that I just recently finish Pattern 2b (sewed it up February 19, 2011).

I can’t take 20 years to go through this book, even if I could live that long.

Oh, well, the real problem is that I do not seem to be able to improve my technique this way.

In nearing the end of pattern 2b last week I forced myself to take the time to work up to the last corner and then to complete the project. After a little while I found I could actually develop some speed and I really did get a sense of “throwing bobbins”. So I must find some time, hopefully at least a few times a week to work on my lace.

One thing I did not do for pattern 2b that I have done for other projects is make a few repetitions of the lace, tie it off and make a few more repetitions from above the beginning to allow me to test finishing. Big mistake, I ended up with way too many pairs in one place at the end and used a tied bundle instead of individual sewings and sewing in the ends. I did try to do double sewings and tied them off, but the knots were huge, much larger than the bundle. I was lucky to get the knots out.

I will make at least one practice ending of pattern 3, though given my dislike for how the DMC Tatting Thread (size 80) worked on all the previous patterns from this books I was thinking of using DMC Cordonnet Special Size 100. The book calls for Madeira Tanne 30 and I do have some Madeira Cotona size 30, but I was saving it for more heirloom projects, should I ever get that good.

Well with all it inconsistency and bunny eared picots here is pattern 2b.

The first couple of repetitions have leaves as I first learned them from books and a couple of web videos, followed by the majority learned after watching a Christine Springett video. And the last legs after Hilary Davies worked with me. Still very inconsistent but at least a few are getting fat, and mostly tapper in both directions.

Oh the worst is finding that with some of your picot you have caught another pin. So unlike Barbara says, I am working on the back, for now at least.

Oh, and how did I pick the size to make pattern 2b. I had made what I thought were an adequate number of repetitions to practice in pattern 1, also a square. Pattern 2b fits around pattern 1.

TTFN
Pat T.

A manly Craftsman

Not so much back to tatting (I wish) but still lace / needlecraft related.

I had a Beds class with Hilary Davies here in Austin Saturday and Sunday November 20 and 21, 2010.

I had to move my current project to an old pillow I both loathe and have great memories of. Styrofoam breaks down and makes a nasty squeaking noise when the pins go in. I want to go back to this project so I needed to spangle some bobbins. I needed 30 to 40 pairs for the workshop (yes that’s 60 to 80 bobbins). So I had to spangle 14 pairs beyond what I had readily available.

I started my lace making supplies with six dozen Lacis bobbins. I then added a dozen from Holly (like SMP) and then for my last anniversary (August 21) I received 100 Middlands and 100 Honitons acquired from SMP. Tonight I spangled the last Middland bobbin in my collection of 184 Middlands. And just when I was starting to really enjoy spangling.

What I really am dwelling on though is how little the people I know understand what it is I do. Someday I need to do a demonstration at my younger son's elementary school.

I spend a lot of time on a playground waiting for after school programs to end or the older child’s school to let out (5 minutes away). So I am part of the picnic table crowd, most of whom, including myself, are active on the PTA board. I am the music liaison, mainly I type things for the music teacher and update her website.

So I am talking about spangling and a woman asks me. “What is a bobbin?” So I explain bobbins and bobbin lace. I also explain that I do not want to be caught again with too few bobbins for a workshop. So I explained that I needed 30 to 40 pairs for the workshop, to which a person who I have talked to before about bobbin lace exclaims “For the group or just yourself?”

When I said for myself she got this shocked look on her face and said “I had no idea.”

Ok fine we expect this, but being a male lace maker I did not expect the next day to get into one of those one-ups-man-ship macho conversations about needlework.

This is another father of a first grader; mine are first fourth and eighth. The first time I noticed this man the school was in lockdown and I was staring out the window at a man I did not recognize sitting on top of one of the play structures.

We have talked a few times so when I saw him on the top of the slide I said “you really like being elevated” forgetting that he is a rock climber.

He is originally from Essex so listening to his accent I thought of Hilary and told him about my workshop. He then started asking me about bobbin lace. But his questions were not like others’. He was focusing in on the needlecraft distinctions; stitches, loops, knots, weaving. I had to ask

“What needlework do you do?” and that’s when the manliness took over.
“Cross-stitch”
“Counted or printed”
“Counted”

Turned out he does these copies of masterwork painting using single and double strands so of course I had to mention my experience with mixed colors, half-stitches, 22 count Aida.

So now for my challenge:
“I was one of those that put the knot on the front and stitches over the thread underneath so there are no knots in my work.”

‘Yeah, people look at my back and say, it looks like the front. But why shouldn’t it?”

“Yes, I took a needlepoint in to be blocked and the woman turned it over and asked if I had made it." She then said "Men are always so much neater on the back.”

“That’s because we get more into the technical aspects of the craft.”

Just before his son asked if they could finally leave we went on. He asked if I know what goes on with needles. He used gold plated tapestry needles, very small ones.

“I end up squeezing the eye pushing it through and eventually the eye distorts and then breaks.”

“I have not had that problem but mine always develop a curve to them”

“Yes from squeezing as you pull them out.”

We then discussed our methods of needle disposal; tape, card, etc. Don't want the wife rummaging through the garbage and getting stuck now do we.

It was a nice conversation, but it was strange realizing afterward that I had just gone through traditional male bonding over the topic of cross stitch. Cool.