Burning, burning with Millefiore Fever, it is a madness that makes one sick for days, weeks; nay for months and months. I am burning with a fire in my center that can be quelled only with the push of that button that says Place The Order.
So I did, I pushed it with my fevered finger. And the ague lessened. But it wasn't until I had gone past the book and into the paperpiecing venue that held the incredible set of bits and pieces of paper heaven, that it finally left my body; panting and breathing deeply before my computer screen of dreams.
I now own the book and the 12 packages of paper pieces that correspond to the 12 rosettes necessary to assemble this beauty. And the fever subsides.
And Frank has the answer to his main problem, "what the devil do I get you for your birthday?"
I broke the news to him when he got in from the parade meeting this afternoon. He was thrilled. Now he just has to worry about where to get me lobster for dinner.
It is as it should be. Now to wait for the postman.
|Used this week||-0.50||Used this month||-0.50||Used this year||-0.50|
|Bought this week||20.00||Bought this month||20.00||Bought this year||20.00|
|Plus or minus||19.50||Plus or minus||19.50||Plus or minus||19.50|