They should give me my own show
Our kitchen and living room windows face the street in front of our house. People often walk by and wave at us as we sit, zoned out on the couch, the blue glow of the television gently caressing our faces. We usually don’t wave back because if we did, we would miss yet another kidnapping or torture scene on 24.
These past few weeks, as I have converted our house into Crafty Christmas Central, I wonder what people think as they drive or walk by.
Look honey, she is sewing! How perfectly domestic. Is that a burka?
No, I think its a dress, or a shift or something. It’s kind of festive.
Oh. Is she crying?
Yeah, it looks like the machine has jammed or something.
Oh my, she should unplug the machine before using that butter knife.
My lovely Christmas holiday dress idea turned into days and days of hard labor, and liberal usage of my new favorite motherfucking word. I really hope frumpy chique is in this year. I might be able to make a nice poodle skirt out of it.
Let’s see, why don’t we tally up the projects have I thoroughly fucked all up?
-Pajamas for my brothers
-Handbag for unnamed person who reads this blog (hope you like it!)
-Holiday dress for myself
I did manage to complete one, count it, one present without flying into a rage and consoling myself under the kitchen table with a bottle of Cuervo. A lovely tote bag for Jess, featured on my Flickr banner.
Now I am going to put the sewing machine in the trunk of my car and drive it back to my mother’s house where it belongs. It’s back to knitting for this girl.