At some point plowing through the fabric store a year ago or so on some specific and urgent mission, I came across a pattern for this dress on a $1.99 sale rack and was taken with it. Even though I had no earthy purpose for it, I threw it in my basket. Turns out it's a rip-off of some costume that the chick from Twilight wore in a horrible Snow White movie. (Cheryl and I later rented it; it really was horrible, but not quite horrible enough to be funny.)
You know that thing where you find a knitting pattern that just takes you in certain way?
Maybe you don't have that thing. Maybe you don't knit. Maybe you whittle, or you paint, or you clean your house or something. I hear there are people that do that. Anyway, whatever your thing is, you know when it hits you just right and you just don't want to stop?
I did what I'd consider crazy amounts of travel up and down the length of California this summer. I hit Humboldt, Big Sur, San Diego, and a few spots in between, and in nothing like so sensible an order as just listed.
In the midst of a busy summer with more travel plans than my hobbitty self copes with well, I reached into my yarn stash, pulled out a couple of balls of fingering weight merino, and cast on for the most complicated scarf pattern my over-taxed psyche could handle. Two-by-two rib, baby.
I just finished up a sewing project, which is now wrapped up and awaiting judging at the county fairgrounds.
The crunch at the end of a project always makes a godawful mess of my sewing room. If I'm smart (and occasionally I am) I do a good cleanup at the end of it, restoring order to chaos.
I've been sewing on my grandmother's old viking for years now. Between she and I, it has some miles on it. I think it rolled off the assembly line a few years before I did, as evident by the bell-bottom clad models in the instruction manual photos, standing on impressively shaggy carpet. It's not a fancy machine, but sturdy, and has seen me through a great many sewing adventures.
So, I'm doing a ballet solo in a dance recital next month. It's the Odette variation from Act II of Swan Lake. My sewing room is thus strewn with feathers. Weasley is highly entertained.
I hope everyone had a good St. Paddy's Day. We boiled meat, made black and tans, listened to the likes of The Clancy Brothers and The Pogues, lamented that Flogging Molly hasn't deemed Sacramento worthy of tour stop in some years now, and finished off the evening with irish cream chocolate chip cookies for desert.
I've had a lot on my plate lately. (That's an interesting expression, isn't it? I think it's a more apt metaphor to say that I've had a whole lot of people standing around with empty plates asking me to make them something to eat. And we all know I'm not that creative in the kitchen.)
I'm sitting there with the tutor who is explaining that my kid needs some physical action to help him work out his thought process while he's sitting still. Something repetitive, that he can do without even really thinking about it.
I look down at my fingers twirling themselves around imaginary yarn despite the fact that I've left my knitting in the car.
I have no idea where he gets this from...