This morning I was going to astound you with my craftsmanship. I set out yesterday to do a project. I had been planning it for a few days. I was going to make bandanas for my dogs. They’re not all that keen to wear Halloween costumes (dammit) but will occasionally wear a hat, but only for as long as it takes to snap a picture. I figured they may not even notice a bandana, since they wear collars, right?
I waited until after morning rush hour traffic, and headed to the fabric store. Actually, it was Hobby Lobby, which is ever so much more than a fabric store. However, I was on a mission, so did not let myself be tempted by all the Christmas stuff (although I did take the long way through to the fabric department).
As I wandered up and down through the bolts of fabric, I wondered what it is about textiles that makes me think I can actually sew? I was all, Oh, I could make such a pretty dress out of this! And ooh, if I had grandbabies, I would totally make little outfits for all of them. The reality is, I am not a seamstress. I’m a crafter, of sorts. I can pretty much figure out anything and I’m even better at following directions. As long as they’re not hard and don’t involve math. I have made a few projects that involve sewing, but nothing a person would have to wear, like out in public.
Seeing all the pretty fabrics always puts me in a crafty mood. I love the holiday ones and the girly ones. I went only to get fabric for a Halloween bandana (since they won’t wear costumes, dammit) but I was overwhelmed with the rows and rows of pretty fabric. Fabric that was also on sale!
I came back with a mother lode!
I have fabric for Halloween and Christmas (duh!) and even some everyday fabric. The everyday fabric was as pink and girly as I could find. Why do people think all bulldogs are boys? Even with her hot pink collar. I have even tried to fashion little pink bows but she only has wrinkles on her head, no hair.
So I set about making some lovely scarves for my dogs. I got out the sewing machine, waded through the mess that is my craft closet, found the scissors I had hidden, so the men in this house wouldn’t use them for stupid stuff, like snipping cigars. I organized myself to begin. I measured, and measured again (my BFFs husband, P-bert, taught me to measure twice and cut once; trust me, it works for sewing, too) and cut out several starter scarves.
As soon as I sat down to actually assemble the scarves, I noticed something wrong. Can you tell what is missing from the picture above? That’s right! Matching thread. I had thought about thread while I was at the fabric store, looking for just the right trims and all. But I was like, psssh! I have tons of thread at home, I’m a sewer of things (okay, even I snorted at that).
I honestly can’t remember the last thing I sewed, but it might have been ugly, because there was no matching thread for the pretty fabric I had purchased for my dog scarves. There was nothing I could use to wing it (I’m really good at winging it – most times).
By that time, it was after school, the time where parents take their clan to WalMart to let them burn off their snack induced sugar high before taking them home. But I headed into the melee anyway, because pink thread was important to this project. Luckily, I was in and out of WalMart before I killed anyone. I headed back out into traffic for the trip home.
I don’t know what I would do if I had to actually commute. You know… like every day. It’s mind numbing, creeping along, hearing the thumpthump of the bass in the car behind, trying not to let it give me a headache. Watching people text, talk on the phone, or read the paper (no lie!) How to do you spend your time in the car?
Anyway, inching my way home, I realized I was also inching my way toward wine thirty. As I was thinking about my post-commute reward, I remembered I didn’t have any wine at home. Funny how I can remember that I have no wine at home, but can’t remember to get matching thread, while I’m in the fabric store. So I made yet another fun stop after 5 o’clock, the grocery store.
The grocery store was more fun than WalMart, filled as it was, with stressed out parents, trying to figure out what to make for dinner before heading out again to soccer practice. All the while the kids, still hopped up from the only thing they ate out of their lunch boxes- the ding dongs, are screaming they don’t want chicken, they want pizza and how come you never cook anything I like? So I grabbed two bottles of wine and headed to the express lane. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
By the time I got home, I was way too stressed out to begin again on the dog scarves. So I didn’t.
However, I wasn’t all that late for happy hour.
And that, my friends, is why I do not have the big fashion show ready for you this morning.