I made my muslin in a past life, and then my dog ate it July 27, 2008 16:43 1 Comment
It’s happened. My life today was so devoid of focus that I am writing about it. That dreaded and overused blog subject: What I Did Today. Yes, that is my topic. I'm not pulling your leg. Is that total, complete conceit or what? No need to answer that. I can do it for you. Yes. A loud, bellowing yes. But what is, is. And there ya go.
So, I was actually, once upon a time, going to tell you about my muslin. I was going to show it to you. See? Isn’t it pretty? Isn’t it the most lovely muslin you’ve ever seen? And so on and so on. But I got scared. Make that sca-a-a-y-errrd. Many syllables. Draw it out. Way out.
And what does a good Southern girl do when she’s sca-a-a-y-errrd? Well, she goes to church. And then, feeling somewhat uplifted, she goes to see a friend who sews. Someone conversant with that strange and intimidating language of pattern instructions. Someone who could interpret. Someone who could tell me whether I should cut facings when crafting a muslin. Someone who could reassure me that my chosen pattern, which I know y'all remember is Simplicity 2925, http://thebluegardenia.typepad.com/the_diary_of_the_blue_gar/2008/07/and-the-winner.html was indeed easy. Someone who was wearing a pair of slacks that were the most. Slightly updated Carole Lombard. Sassy yet comfortable. Slacks that she herself made from Simplicity 4237. Slacks that she assures me are very easy to make. We’ll see. I remain unconvinced. Ever so.
I could also tell you about the rest of my day: cooking potatoes freshly dug from a bud’s garden; learning about past life-regression from another friend (I told you I was blue, didn’t I?), and going to see the latest Batman movie (isn’t it grand that Morgan Freeman is working so much these days?). I could tell you I added fresh dill to the potatoes. I could tell you I’m considering past-life regression, something that a few months ago I would have considered as likely as serving a platter of wriggling earthworms at a dinner party. I could tell you I find the blond good guy in The Dark Knight as abrasive as a brand-new emery board. I could give you even more details about my day. I could. But I think I’ll moisturize my skin instead. And think about tomorrow. When perhaps I will be less scattered and most certainly have softer skin.