You'd think that staying up late to make circle skirts shouldn't happen to the same person twice within a 6 month period. But no, that would suggest that I actually LEARN from my mistakes, and I refuse to do that on the grounds that it might turn me into a boring person.
I'm not sure what it has to do with Christmas, but Julie needs to dress like a Spanish dancer for the school concert tonight. Yeah, I suppose I could just slap a colourful skirt on her like the teacher suggested, but that's not the way my brain works. You may hear "costume", and I hear "opportunity". And the one person in the world who knows EXACTLY what I'm talking about is h8s2cln.
Sadly, though, I usually only get the inspiration or motivation the night before it's needed, so yes, I was up late last night. And, of course, when you're stomping on deadline's door, that's when something ALWAYS goes wrong. I had the red circle skirt all cut out, sat down at my sewing machine to stitch it together, and lo and behold - I'd broken my last sewing machine needle last week when I sewed a bunting bag for Peanut. So there I was, at 8:00 at night, rushing around the city trying to find a store that was open and would sell me a lousy sewing machine needle (the fabric store close to our place picked this opportune time to move across town)!
But in the end, Julie will look like the best little Spanish dancer around, with her red skirt and black poncho, with red sequins and a red flower in her hair! Look for pics tomorrow.
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6 comments:
This is one of the things that years from now, she will remember and she will know how much you loved her. Please, post a picture!
Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I WANT TO BE THERE!!!!
(from the Blogger formerly known as h8s2cln)
Yeah, this relation has noooo idea what that's all about. My parental issue will be more in the cooking the best snacks category or such.
Looking forward to the pictures. I always envy mom's who can sow.
you will never cease to amaze me.
These things are a pain when they happen, but they do make a good story afterwards. Oh the joys of making a memory.
Here I am pushing 60 and I still remember costumes my mother made for me when I was in grade school. I can see her at the sewing machine working away on ruffles and frills and I remember hearing the sewing machine motor running long after I had gone to bed. Oh the thrill of wearing that costume the next day. The warm feelings will never go away.
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