(diaryland) December 06, 2001 - 9:43 a.m.

Near Christmas, things get dangerous. It�s my cushion-making time. Every year, I construct cushions to give to people. That�s what you get from me for Christmas. Cushions.

I�m exaggerating. There�s only a 50% chance you�ll get a cushion from me, so keep your fingers crossed.

Last year, I inflicted small cushions with cross-stitch stuff on them onto my aunty, sister and grandparents. They were pretty cool. The one I gave to my aunty was rad. It had these abstract designs that made it look a bit Indian or something. She put it on the couch in her office. The one I gave to my grandparents had stylised flowers and cute animals all over it. They put it on display on their record player for some reason. The one I gave to my sister had a big house on it. All the bricks on the house were different shades of orange and brown. It said �To Sarah� on it. Because, like, that�s her name.

I also gave four gnarly patchwork cushions to Roland�s family. They were very tasteful, with dark blue and white and a deep red shiny patterny colour. My mum sewed the edges together, and my sister pulled them inside-out for me. It was fun.

This year, I�m making cushions for my parents� new couch. I�m going to make two cross-stitch ones with a dark blue back, and then make three matching plain ones with the same dark blue. I got this cool design from a sampler from 1786 and adapted it. I will take a photo when I�ve finished one and stick it on the net.

Whether anyone actually cares about this diary entry remains to be seen. It�s kinda visual.