I never thought I'd see those particular three words together, much less in a sentence that pertains to me.
But I now believe I've been on vacation too long.
I learned a new word today. It's in the fine print at the bottom of a card attached to a one-of-a-kind, hand-made bag. The designer is (was) Laurel Burch, who passed away in 1995, coincidentally the year I took up quilting. Laurel Burch was an amazing fabric designer, or just designer, period. I'm a big fan of her work. I wish they would re-run her fabrics, but apparently that's not going to happen.
The card has a greeting from Ms. Burch, and in the fine print on the back, the company who had the license to use her designs on its bags makes this disclaimer:
"On certain hand woven and hand printed fabrics, a slub or an imperfection may be found. This is an attraction of something hand made not mass produced."
While I would have inserted a comma or two, one word leapt out at me.
Slub.
I have done very little "work" today. I paid a bill, rode my bike, made the day of a couple of salesladies, and one of my purchases was this Laurel Burch bag. Other than that, I reheated week-old leftovers, watched the Jays lose a ballgame, talked rather incoherently on the phone with three people, since I can't really carry on a conversation when the tv is on.
I am, at least today, a "slub."
Funny, a lot of people have complimented me on the blog, asking me why I don't write for a living.
Heck, I'd rather sit here and write than do ANYTHING! At least, I'd rather write than work. Or sew. Or clean.
Slub.
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