Worked on my red gown today. I’ve left it broad through the middle; if I close in the sleeves and, once it’s done, take a false seam down the middle of each side gore, perhaps I’ll have something pretty for Bardic. I am also going to practice hoods by making myself one out of the spare red linen. Then if it works, I can adjust the pattern to suit Eleven.
So I am two middle gores and the end of a side gore away from having the shape all pieced in for the gown. I can make sleeves work, surely. It means taking apart the pattern Orianna and I made on my first sewing weekend and learning from it. That’s what a pattern is for. I want her to be proud of me someday. One of the regrets I have about coming to America so early is the tutelage I missed, first under my Tante Rosa, then under her niece, my Tante Rosi. I could have learned so much from them. Since I can’t, I will freely submit to the tutelage of another excellent needlewoman.
And Edmund! Never let him think he is bad with left-handed archers; if he can get me hitting in the rings on my first day in three years, by God he can beat anyone into shape. He is safety-minded, which resulted in a nice shouting-at but I would rather be called out and remember it than put myself in danger. A novice is a novice and she must take what instruction is fairly given in order to progress.
As for the thorny matter of names, Elen I am and Elen I will be, and this is right somehow. Where will I get a byname? Patience may tell me, patience and time.
Far calmer tonight. Feels like a blessing.