Sewing Adventures

You know what’s awful? Synthetic fabric. I’ve decided to plunge headfirst into making skirts and dresses, but as I am a complete novice where sewing is concerned, I thought I’d do a practice round or two. I have this box full of fabric that my mom gave to me, and an instructional book that came with patterns that are all a bit too small for me, so I figured, what better to mangle?

The first bit of fabric I pulled from the box was too hideous even to practice with. Putty coloured, shiny on one side but fuzzy on the other… I shuddered every time it grazed my skin. No dice. Next was this weird, fake-denim looking stuff. I can’t tell the right side from the wrong side. It’s lightweight, and yet too heavy to tear. Cutting it is hell. I really want new shears.

Anyway… I’m wondering if I should just chuck all of my mom’s castoffs, and practice instead on pieces of broadcloth and t-shirts salvaged from Value Village.

Does anyone know how to make patterns more permanent, incidentally? I need tips!

Summer!

I am fairly excited about tomorrow being the first day of Summer. Goodbye, Spring! You were cold and dreary, and you kind of smelled bad.

I had an epiphany regarding my sewing projects and why I can’t seem to get started on anything. It’s those damn curtains. I like to finish one thing before I move on to the next, and I just can’t finish these. Why? Because I want to move. And I don’t see the point in investing time and resources to create curtains for a unit that I will hopefully be vacating in three months’ time or less. Thus, I am moving on! I need season appropriate clothing. Let the Summer of Crooked Seams begin!

Home Sweet Home

I really loathe my apartment.

I always have. Steve was keen on it from the get-go while I had my reservations at first. In the end, I made a snap decision to just go for it because they offered us a good deal on the rent. Lesson learned, you guys. There are a handful of things in life you should never settle for; I know from firsthand experience that two of these things are your engagement ring and your living quarters.

The problem right now is that we can’t really afford to move. Tiny stumbling block, that. Now ask me how much I care. Our lease is up in August (after that, we’ll go month-to-month until we can make our escape!) and I’ve already started packing. Bonkers, right? Who starts packing before they’ve even given their notice on a place?

Me, that’s who.

And so begins Project I’m-Sad-Here-And-Want-To-Move-As-Soon-As-Humanly-Possible-If-Not-Before-Then.

Fridays Are My Mondays

Because it’s Friday, my week is just beginning. There’s a bunch of stuff I want to get done this week, so here’s what I propose: I shall list my tasks here, and you, internet, will keep me accountable, yah? Without any further adieu…

– Watch Fantastic Mr. Fox, which is something I’ve been meaning to do, oh, only since it was in theatres. Jeez.

– Clean out my festering cosmetics collection.

– Get my name changed at school so I don’t have to deal with any more confusion regarding my super secret identity.

– …and get a new (um… valid) student ID while I’m there.

– Finish the damn curtains I started…

– …and maybe try my hand at cutting out an actual garment? (I want skirts.)

– Wednesday is going to bring a road trip of sorts, when Steve and I will leave city limits to go explore used bookstores.

– Thursday, I get my first tattoo coverup done.

– Read the giant John Lennon biography that arrived in the mail today.

Speaking of which, Dear Amazon, you work miracles. Steven ordered me this book at about 2 p.m. yesterday afternoon. It arrived this morning. How does that even happen?? Although, this wonder is somewhat mitigated by the fact that books from Amazon always seem to arrive slightly bruised and battered. Anyone else notice that? It never happens when you order from Indigo…

Font Dilemma

So I have this assignment that’s sort of been killing me since the day I started it, because as it turns out I’m really quite stupid and have very little to say about anything, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m experiencing a dilemma right now, and I need your help, internets. Here are the specs:

– The paper is to be between four and five pages long
– The paper is to be double spaced
– The paper is to be written in 12 point font
– The paper is to have one inch margins

See, all those specifics are, I’m sure, meant to stop people cutting corners. You know how you can sort of cheat papers and make them look longer than they are by broadening your margins or spacing things wider apart or using a bigger point size for your font? Clearly, the prof wants to avoid that, and good on him. Why should the person who only wrote three pages worth get as good a grade as the person who wrote five pages worth, simply because they used creative spacing?

…but by that same token, why should the person who sets their font as Courier New get a better grade than the person submitting the same essay in Times New Roman, simply because the essay written in Courier New appears longer? Professors always forget that they should specify which font the document is written in, which I find so strange, because isn’t it the most obvious thing in the world that different fonts will take up different amounts of space on the page? It’s word count that matters, not page count. In any event, this particular prof is going with page count, and that’s what brings me to my question…

Do I set my essay in Courier New or Helvetica? I like Helvetica because it’s pretty, but Courier New stretches my meager thoughts out to a full five pages.

I’ll probably use Courier New. Heh.

Heartwarming

You meet all sorts when you work in retail.

Alllllllllllllll sorts.

Some are mystery shoppers who write things like “I really felt like she cared about me” and “I left the store feeling special” about you (sorry, 59-year-old-male, but I don’t even remember your face). Some are… angry people. I don’t mean angry about whatever situation they happen to be in at the time, I mean angry-to-the-core angry. And they like to take it out on shopgirls sometimes. So that kind of sucks… But some people are just amazing.

e.g. …

Yesterday, I approached a woman and her son while they were browsing, ’cause that’s why they pay me the big bucks. I asked if she had any questions and it turned out that yes, yes she did! Unfortunately, I think her son had an autism spectrum disorder and I think I sort of cornered him, because as soon as he realized I was there he started rocking back and forth, back and forth. Usually I try to engage kids who are shopping with their parents, because let’s face it, being dragged into stores with your mom is incredibly annoying and boring but since you’re a kid nobody listens to you, so you have to do it. With this little guy, though, I thought I might overwhelm him if I tried to bring him into the conversation, so I specifically addressed his mom… until I felt a little taptaptap on my shoulder. So I paused and said “yeah?”. He reached up and ran his finger around the edge of my name tag and said to me, “what’s your name?”. I told him my name, and he offered me his hand in a half-pinkie-swear, half-handshake sort of gesture and said, “friends?”.

And that’s when my brain exploded from the incredible cuteness.

The best part was after I rang his mom through and he offered me his left hand to shake once more and said it was nice to meet me.

ZOMG

Goodbye, most annoying blog post I ever made.

Tattoo Coverage

So I’m planning to have my tattoos covered or altered over the course of the next year or so. All 3 of ’em. And people are starting to ask me why, so I thought I’d blog about it, since I’ve nothing better to do at the moment.

I got my first tattoo when I was 18. It’s a tiny pink flower on my left shoulder blade. Very boring, very every-girl-has-one, but it seemed cute when I was in high school. Now that I’m older and know myself better… it’s just not fitting. I want to cover it up with a family crest bearing my “maiden name”, which is a name with history that I’ve always identified with.

My second tattoo came when I quit my first job, which was teaching singing lessons at a music school. How I landed that gig when I was sixteen is still something of a mystery to me, but I digress. I quit at age 20 and wanted to commemorate it, so I got a treble clef intertwined with a rose tattooed on my lower back. I still like the basic concept of that tattoo, but I want to sharpen it up and personalize it a little bit. By virtue of sheer coincidence, I carried red roses along with red and white lilies on my wedding day. I want to add the lilies to the design, as well as a musical staff with the first few notes of “our song” on it.

My third tattoo was chosen on a whim. Never get a tattoo on a whim, kids. It’s a bad idea and it will not turn out well. I didn’t like the artist from the start, he just made me deeply uncomfortable somehow. But because I’d gotten so excited about getting a tattoo, and because I’d already put down my deposit, I went ahead with it… and I’ve always hated it. Always. And what will I do with this tattoo, you ask? I’m hoping it can be easily covered with a heron. A big heron, something with presence. The reason I want a heron is because on my wedding day, two flew overhead and our wedding coordinator told us it was a sign of prosperity and happiness. I’ve wanted a heron tattoo since that day… it’s been nearly a year of thought now, as opposed to the, what, 20 minutes of thought I put into the design that currently resides on my right ankle. I’m hoping the new design can begin on my foot and extend up my leg somewhat, but I’m limited by the placement of the current monstrosity.

Incidentally, I’m not going to be altering all 3 on the same day or anything. Although I might if I had the budget for it! I’m estimating it will probably take me a year to get them all fixed up.

So that’s that! I’m excited!