sometimes when you sew a skirt

:: Sometimes you start sewing a skirt with trepidation.
:: Because the last time you made a skirt, the reception was iffy.
:: But you're really excited about this one.
:: Because you've already made one skirt.
:: Even if it was "crafty."
:: So you start sewing.
:: And it's going great.
:: Until you insert the damn invisible zipper and realize you did it wrong.
:: So you take it out and try again.
:: And that damn invisible zipper still didn't go in right.

:: And then you have a meltdown.
:: You might not have the heart (or time) to pick up the skirt again for another week.
:: And when you do, you still have to tackle that damn invisible zipper.
:: Twice.
:: Because you did it wrong.
:: Again.
:: And then you realize that you put the waistband on upside down.
:: Because you sewed the waistband on upside down, you thought you cut the skirt pieces out wrong and trimmed off the "extra fabric."
:: So you take the whole skirt apart and re-cut the skirt front and back pieces.

:: And you sew the whole thing all over again.
:: Including the damn invisible zipper.
:: Twice.
:: But the waistband is on correctly this time.
:: Phew.
:: So you stitch-the-ditch and trim your thread until you're ready to hem.
:: And you try our your blind-hem presser foot this time.
:: You love it.
:: You press the skirt.
:: And try it on.
:: But you don't post any pictures of you in the skirt, because you couldn't get a decent one no matter what you tried.

:: For a second skirt, it's not that bad.
:: Maybe even a little less crafty than the first one.

dreaming versus doing

I spend lots of time on the internet. Lots. And most of that online time happens at work (who wants to spend time at the computer at home when that's all you do at work?). When I'm not making FedEx labels, sorting invoices and expense reports to send to the corporate office, calling couriers, restocking the three Coca-Cola fridges in the office, or getting hot chocolate at the Pearl Bakery, I'm reading blogs, finding new blogs to read, adding items to my Amazon Universal Wishlist (genius), and since last week, pinning on Pinterest (addiction).

Resulting from this continual online investment is a bevy of new blogs in my Google Reader and almost 150 Pinterest pins amassed within one week. I have so many ideas for home decor, parties, crafting, DIYing, recipes, and color combinations, not to mention the punctuation and signage art with which I want to adorn everything. And don't forget my new wardrobe that exists only in Pinterest pins and the birthday parties I'm ready to plan for my imaginary children (let's just say that when I have a girl, she'll be set).

In this idea-collecting process, I've found creative energy and motivation, an excitement for the endless possibilities available to me. That's a fun feeling. One of my priorities is to create a beautiful home and do that while living within our means. The ocean of blogs and websites overflows with ideas to achieve both those ends. In cases like this I love the internet.

The thing is, my imagination gets ahead of my life; I don't have the time (or the means) to do all of this all at once. I make time for many things I love, and that also means I have to pick and choose. I also have other domestic responsibilities, like laundry and grocery shopping (we're currently on day three of really needing more dish soap), so I have to balance the necessary things with the nice-to-do things. Balancing my wants and needs isn't difficult usually, but there is an aspect that is especially frustrating about my current situation: I wish that I could spend more time doing instead of dreaming. And really, don't we all?

So right now I'm doing as much as I can and still dreaming so that I'll never run out of things to do. And with Pinterest on my side, I'll probably never be low on ideas.

Costco splurge

While at Costco today (yes, I know--Costco on a Saturday is one of the worst ideas) I bought these tulips.

They were bright and springy and joyful. Everytime I look at them I feel happy.

an epilogue

{The story didn't end with the teenage boy assuaging my concerns about the
leftover lunch in the parking lot.}

The kind boy told me that he worked nearby and that I could use the bathroom at his job. I was extremely grateful and started following him down the street. I started to turn into an arcade, thinking that he was employed there. The teenage boy, probably thinking that I was anticipating another wave of nausea and needed a bathroom ASAP, said that he worked somwhere else. He thought that the arcade probably had a bathroom too and then wished me well.

Inside the door of the arcade was a brusque man who asked for my ID.

{Yes, readers, I was being carded to use a bathroom so I could wipe the vomit from my nose.}

I tried to explain my situation, that I had absolutely zero intentions of staying--I really just needed to clean myself up before boarding the train. Yet, he insisted on seeing my ID. After clumsily groping in my bag to find my wallet while trying to best keep my nose and mouth covered, I showed him my driver's license. As I made my way back to the black-lit, seedy bathroom, the employee instructed me to "not make a mess."

Another low moment.

Jimmered dreams

The other night I had a dream that I was riding in a car with Jimmer Fredette. We were having a great time (because, you know, we're BFFs), when he exited the freeway by going the wrong way on an on-ramp. Instead of freaking out, I just said, "Whoa, you Jimmered that!"

Happy Sweet 16, BYU!

And yes, he can make it from here.

the daytime TV demographic

Because of the nature of my job (manning the front desk), it's hard for me to leave my post for long stretches of time, for example lunch breaks. I sign for deliveries, greet business visitors, and explain our company and office to the random people who come in. (And random walk-ins happen all the time. In fact, one happened just now.) So to facilitate my job responsibilities and my lunch breaks, I take my lunches here, in our mezzanine-slash-lounge, from where I can hear anyone entering or exiting the building.

I love it. I get to lounge in these chairs (which offer more modern trend than actual comfort) and watch TV for 30 to 45 minutes. My favorite show is Law and Order, which is on TNT all afternoon every afternoon. No joke.

After a week or so of this routine, I started noticing a trend in the commercials TNT aired during their back-to-back Law and Order episodes. I now know all about Binder & Binder, America's most trusted social security disability advocates. I know about Colonial Penn life insurance: they won't reject your application because of age (even if you're over 50), don't require a medical examination, and is only $0.35 a day. And don't forget the SunSetter retractable awning that makes it so you can enjoy the outdoors without baking in the sun.

So—I suppose I'm an outlier in the TNT daytime demographic. Still, I love my Law and Order lunches.

If only TNT aired commercials for 15-inch punctuation stencils to make my research easier. . . . Yes, punctuation stencils.

why I couldn't eat my dinner tonight

A couple of weeks ago I had some leftover Kraft mac and cheese for lunch. It did go for some time unrefrigerated, but it was only a day old. It should have been fine. Should have.

When I was eating it, I thought it tasted a little funny, but operating under the delusion that really it was fine, I kept eating. Eventually, after I'd eaten about half of it, I quit. Then my stomach hurt all afternoon. I left work as soon as the clock said I could, still feeling ill.

On my way to the train stop a few blocks away, my stomach started feeling more upset. Panicking, I realized that I was too far away from my office to run back. I looked around as my stomach ran out of time, and then I did the only thing I could think of: I vomited in a parking lot in downtown Portland. Not in a planter or trash can. A parking lot. A parking lot.

That was a low moment.

***

Fast forward to tonight. Last week we bought one of Costco's prepared food items to keep on hand for dinner. We had a steak-and-mashed-potatoes option last month and were impressed. Tonight when the chicken alfredo finished heating up in the oven, we tucked in, ready for some easy and tasty food. After only a couple of bites, however, I commented that the seasoning tasted a little funny. Then after another bite, the funny taste found definition: my mac-and-cheese disaster flashed in my mind, the picture of the soiled asphalt appearing clearly. I spat out my chicken and refused to eat another bite.

And that is why I couldn't finish my dinner tonight.

{To end on a funnier note, when I got sick in the Portland parking lot, a nice teenage boy stopped and asked if I was okay. I expressed concern about the state of the asphalt and asked if there was any city officer I could notify of the mess. I felt so trashy leaving my lunch there. The boy didn't look too sure of my question, but kindly answered, "Well, it does rain a lot here." Let's be so glad for that.}

hinting at spring

I saw these soft pink buds on some trees downtown, and my heart felt lighter. I didn't realize how ready I was for spring until I saw the flowers in the rain.

my latest "craft" project

My sewing has been progressing nicely. I finished up curtains. I've had a few more fabric-buying excursions, and I've even bought fabric for a pattern that's not in my sewing book. I'm that serious now.

Last night I finished my first clothing project since the skort I completed when I was nine. I made a wraparound skirt. When I picked out the fabric, I even had a whole outfit in mind for this skirt. It was a great transition project into apparel sewing because it combined new and old concepts into something that wasn't too hard and still increased the sewist's confidence.

I found a few things I could have done differently, but I thought that, for a first piece of clothing (since I started sewing more seriously) I did pretty well. It's even green for St. Patrick's Day. {Please excuse my lanky post-work hair}

So when I came into work today and one of my co-workers complimented me on my skirt, some pride welled up inside me.

I felt even further validated when he asked me where I got it. "Oh, I made it!" I confidently answered.

"Oh, I was wondering. It has that crafty feel to it."

. . . Thanks? All my confidence, pride, and validation went mostly out the window.

While I do aspire to be a craft master, I want the things I make to have style. Especially the clothes. I don't want my clothes to look like a craft project. Which apparently, right now, they do.

So with a little more trepidation than I had before, I'm headed into my next skirt project. Or, should I say, craft project.

springing forward

I've always hated the switch from standard time to daylight savings time, if only because I lose an hour of sleep one night. And really, that's not the worst. Inconvenient, sure. But the same thing happens when I fly from Oregon to Colorado, and it doesn't bother me then.

So I can't explain why I've been disproportionately tired this week. I don't know if it's simply my body recovering from a busy few days, or if my fatigue really can be attributed to the time change. And it feels like each day the tiredness worsens. This morning I overslept by 20 minutes, fell asleep reading on the bus, had a difficult time rousing myself approaching my stop, and am currently willing my body and mind to stay alert in its semi-cloudy state.

Tonight I may or may not shoot for a 9:00 bedtime.