Needlepoint Etiquette--Who Knew?

The Delray Beach Men's Professional Tennis Open happened this January! Take that Covid! Social distancing and masks required, but we tennis fans are known for manners and adhering to simple rules. (It’s not that hard!)

I'm a fan. I jump at the chance to go the US Open in Queens and Wimbledon in London. I have high hopes to see the French Open in Paris and the Rio Open (Hint: It’s not in Kansas City). In case you don't know, Reader, I’m a flight attendant, not a millionaire. I finagle  my work trips to these locales when the events occur. Most tournaments last two weeks and I’m thrilled to attend for a day or two. Any more than that, I get tennis neck (and a tad bored). I have two friends that, I’ll fictitiously call Rane and Jane.(I did not obtain their permission to be mentioned in my much-read blog.) They ADORE tennis. Jane works at the US Open, while her sister Rane, volunteers. When they aren’t assisting fans with seats or answering questions, they are watching matches. Any match. A player with no vowels in her name and seeded #222 gets as much of their adoration as Serena. (Well, not really true, but for this story, that’s what I’m saying). They may disown me for my recent activity at the courts. 

Back to Delray and the tournament. I slather myself with sun screen, turn my phone to vibrate, and pack my needlepoint (a kitschy project featuring an air stream trailer, palm tree, and flamingo-trés Florida). I like the 10 minute walk from my apartment to the tournament. I will admit, lots of heat or threat of rain keeps me home. During the first week, social distancing is not a problem. . .whatsoever. 

I sadly reiterate that tennis can be slightly boring. (Not golf boring! Lord! Nothing rivals that). Left. Right. Left. Right. My neck cramps! I know it’s bad when my inner dialogue debates which player sweats more. My neck needed a break (figuratively speaking), so I quietly slide out my needlepoint, lick the thread and feed it into the needle eye and stitch away. Just to educate you, the players have 25 seconds to serve the ball, 90 seconds between games, and two minutes between sets. (Now you know!) So, needlepoint really is a productive, unobtrusive activity that pairs nicely with rooting for your favorite player and contributing to the local economy. Right?

The challenge comes when I decide to move from the grandstands where there are about 20 people to the doubles match. Here, there are four fans scattered amongst three benches. The players are resting on chairs between sets on either side of the umpire’s raised throne. I reach to retrieve my needle point and make eye contact with one of the players. I mean, my hazel eyes lock on his lovely blue ones. That’s how close I am to the action (and consequently, inaction)!  I put myself in this player’s tennis shoes. How would I feel if I were out here getting chaffed and sunburnt for the crowd (us 4) and someone went to task on her stitching? I let my beakless flamingo sit quietly on the bench while I cheer for my favorite team. 

When I get home, I excitedly show my husband my needlepoint progress (accomplished during the grandstand match).

“I thought you were at the tennis?”

“I did, but you know—I got bored.”

“What!?? You did that during a match??!” He looks horrified at the canvas on the 2’ x 3’ wooden frame like it’s covered with flamingo droppings. His mouth opens to continue, but he's interrupted by a knock on the door. He shakes his head at me. “I hope it’s the tennis officials baring you from attending any more matches!”

“But I didn’t do it during the doubles!” I retort, defensively. I slide the needlepoint under the sofa cushion as the door swings open. 

2021 Calendar-Please Be Different Than 2020!

“Donna!” I gasp in a controlled panic. “When are the new calendars coming in?”

“Honey, you mean for the year that is still four months away?” She asks, incredulously. 

 For the last 30 years, every September, I start bugging the owner of my Mom and Pop store on the Upper West Side with the same plea.

The calendars sell out quickly, so I truly do need to stay on top of this!  We people in Manhattan are planners and apparently very busy. Well, until 2020 came to a screeching halt!  Dreamed-of vacations, dreaded doctor’s appointments, promised concerts and coffee dates were all crossed out and inserted into another month. And then scratched out, and penned onto yet another date and then another and . . .I know you know that you know that I know what I’m talking about!!!  

For the previous twenty-nine years, when the calendars do arrive in October, it’s a happy day! I am confident my type is the most popular so I live in fear of it selling out. I see My-Day-At-A-Glance and My-Week-At-A-Glance. Finally, I spy mine: My-Month-At-A-Glance! I pick it up excitedly, gasp at the price, but nevertheless, literally embrace it!  Don’t even suggest I go elsewhere to purchase my calendar. Or worse, order it on-line. My calendars must be purchased from Stationery and Toy World, UWS from Donna or her dad, Larry.

Little insight into my calendar and me. Remember that stuffed animal or scrap of blanket you had as a kid? Well, my calendar has replaced  my teddy and everyone around me knows it. Co-workers know not to engage me if they see my calendar in hand. My friends no longer snicker when I drag it out from my over-sized purse (to accommodate the calendar) to arrange our next outing. Now they just raise their eyebrows at each other.

Well, 2020 rolls around and I'm in a pickle. You see, my husband and I are part of the flock that migrated south due to covid. Frankly, we went from one shit show (NYC in March to Florida), to another. Unfortunately, the whole country and world managed to get wrapped up in the Corona manure pile. When October finally crawled into existence, I thought about asking my son who lives in NY to walk by the stationery store and buy my calendar. I didn’t even know if it was open! I envisioned his reaction. He’d roll his eyes as I dab mine and blab on about store loyalty and tradition. I don’t doubt that My-Month-At-A-Glance would have been delivered to my door, compliments of my son and Amazon. 

Well, NO THANK YOU!

I tearfully eyeball my local shops on Atlantic Avenue in Delray, where I am temporarily. I did a reconnaissance mission to one stationery store back in November. I was still hoping to return to NYC before the New Year, so I didn't make a purchase. I know you’re wondering what I've mixed into my Florida orange juice to consider going north. Eventually, (around Dec. 28) I decided to stay out of Cuomo-Land a while longer. 

One balmy January day in Delray, I put on my big girl panties and announce to my husband that I am going calendar shopping. He knows the solemnity of this outing (or he simply wants me out of the house) and wishes me luck.  

With trepidation, I push the door open to Hands Stationers. I appreciate the many useful and kitschy items on the shelves. A little kitsch is mandatory for it to qualify as a Mom & Pop store, as well as age (1934). Tucked away in a corner, I spy the upscale paper and calendar display. They even have a separate desk with an employee to assist if you’re purchasing engraved stationary. (Lovely to know there’s still a market!) 

As always, my heart starts to pound a little more quickly. Twelve whole months of mystery. Will I make it to Lake Como this year and chat up George? Is this the year I get my teeth cleaned? In six months, will these thirty extra pounds have melted away? It’s the excitement of the unknown! I scan the leather and non-leather covers, Helvetica and Courier fonts, worrying if mine is in stock. 

A teen-age girl squeal escapes my lips. I snatch up My-Month-At-A-Glance, check the price (another squeal because it’s cheaper than NY prices), and bring it quickly to my chest like a pair of Jimmy Choo’s unearthed at Filene’s Basement, circa 1988.  Having met my goal, I quickly turn the corner and see the woman who is in charge of engraving look at me quizzically. I briefly (I hope) share with her my happiness at buying a 2021 calendar and what it all means to me.

“Now what?” She asks kindly and shrugs. “What are you going to put into it?” 

I thought of covid. I thought of the elections. I thought of all the dusty, corked wine bottles that never got drank with my friends. “Well,” I said encouragingly. “I am scheduled to return to work sometime this year. I have a doctor’s appointment in February and I’m sure some sibling has a birthday in the next few months!” 

When I get home, instead of rushing to record all two entries, I lay my prized possession on my bedside table. Today, I finally sit down to make my first entry. January 25: Take Liz to college in my barely legible handwriting. A text from my daughter pops up as the ink is drying. School’s been pushed back til Feb! 

“Not again!” I shout to the heavens! I scratch out my first 2021 entry. How much of '20 is going to permeate into '21? This is a rhetorical question. Reader, do not respond! I take a deep breath and turn to the inside cover of my new My-Month-At-A-Glance 2021 calendar: And this too, shall f**king pass, I write with fingers crossed!

An aside: 2020 could have been so much worse for my family and me. I’m truly saddened it has been tragic for so many.  As always, be well.