Saturday, January 27, 2007
This is what I did yesterday. Doesn't look like much, does it? But it took me all damn morning--just longer than you can possibly believe. Since I do not draw and have no calligraphic skills, getting these simple letters onto this door the way I wanted them was A Major Undertaking.
First I looked for fonts online, thinking I'd find one, download it, enlarge it, print it out, make a stencil of it, and put it on the door. Duh. Of course it didn't work that way. Couldn't find the font I was imagining. Finally I used one I already had that had some serifs on it that I could kind of see and use as a guide. Then I measured (gasp!) the space on the door and cut a piece of paper to size and then drew the letters and erased and re-drew and finally got them like I wanted them. Then I found some old carbon paper we got at an estate sale, and I used that to transfer the letters from the paper to cardstock, also cut to size. Then I began to cut out the letters with an X-acto knife. Bad idea. I'm not too sharp (har-har) with an X-acto knife, and the nice lines I'd made were all rough and ugly. So forget that. Cut the carbon paper to size, tape it on the back of the cardstock, tape THAT to the door, and trace over the letters v-e-r-y f-i-r-m-l-y with a pen. It didn't transfer well, being cardstock; but I finally got it. OK. Trace the letters with a Sharpie. That didn't work--it blipped and skipped and was ugly. Try to paint the outline with acrylic paint. That was even uglier. So I painted the letters--why is it that orange paint needs about a bazillion coats? Sheesh. It was true of the latex we used on the porch, and it was true of the acrylic I used on the door. Then I go back to trying to outline the letters. Finally use a Lumocolor medium pen, and that was swell. Whew. See? It took FOREVER. But I like it.
Today I dyed. Well, I also did other stuff, like finish the profile of One of My Very Favorite Artists ever. Held my breath while I let this person read it--and s/he was quite pleased. So that was wonderful. And I went to a two-hour meditation at the yoga studio where I sometimes go, and that was completely marvelous--I've never sat that long before (30 minute sit, then 10 minute walking meditation, then 20 minutes and 10 minutes alternating for the rest of the time). I felt better than I have in forever.
And then I came home and finished dyeing some rugs (yes, I'm reduced to dyeing rugs--I've run out of everything else already). And when I cleaned up, I swept a tiny bit of purple dye powder into the sink, and this is what it looked like. It was so gorgeous it made me gasp. So I grabbed the camera so I could show it to you.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
I thought yoga would make the headache go away, but the room was so cold and I was so miserable, trying to keep from freezing, that it just made it worse. I thought I could tough it out and go to sleep, but every time I woke up during the night, it still hurt.
So that's my excuse for taking drugs and going back to bed and sleeping in and not getting anything done today. I used to have headaches--sinus headaches--at least once a week. But after I changed my diet to vegetarian-except-fish-and-cheese and started doing yoga, I hardly ever hurt anywhere. Knock on wood. I firmly believe that the food has a lot to do with it--people just don't realize how much food affects how they feel.
Yesterday was a hideous day, filled with technological woes. I need to be able to record interviews on my cell phone. I have the connector that lets me do that on my cordless phone, but it won't work with the cell (I'm going to tell you all this in case there's someone out there who knows how to solve this on-going dilemma). So yesterday I get ready to do an interview, and the practically-brand-new cordless tells me its battery is dead. It's time to call the artist, and I have to go to Radio Shack and get a new battery. Of course, it takes a couple hours to charge, so I do the interview on the cell phone. But it won't accept the connector to allow me to record while I'm listening, so I don't get to record it and just have to type like mad. I go back to Radio Shack, and the guys there all insist that this should work on the cell. But it doesn't. And they can't tell me why. Rather than admitting they have no clue, they just keep insisting that it has to work. Then they try to sell me a Bluetooth set-up. That's when I tell them that they obviously have no idea why it's not working and that I'm going to figure something out myself. And I leave. Hurumph. I'm no better off than I was, but at least the new cordless battery has charged. Not that I need it today. And at least I got out of there without spending any money on a whole new set-up.
ANYWAY--so I bit the bullet on this hoody that got smeared when I heatset it and just went ahead and added paint smears all over it. You have to be brave and do what's scary, and paint smears all over something I worked on so long (check out the beads around the pockets and hood) is scary to me. It's in the dryer now, heatsetting. That's not the way to heat set--home dryers don't get hot enough. But there's no way I'm going to iron all of those painted places--and I want to see what happens when I wash it here in a little while.
On another note, I mentioned a while back that I'm doing the Journal Skirt workshop at joggles.com and gave a link to it. I went the other day to check, and the workshop is listed there, sure enough, but it was listed as being taught by someone else entirely. It's supposed to have been fixed--guess I need to go check. Yep, it's fixed.
You know, when something like that happens, you have to wonder how much of your reaction is ego. I'm working on the whole ego thang, but it's tough--until you start paying attention, you don't realize how much your ego gets tangled up in things. For instance: I keep reading about altered clothing, how hot it is, how everyone's doing it. Magazines, zines, on-line. And never, not once, have I read a mention of my book, which was the first altered clothing book. As far as I know, it's the only one--if you don't count the just-t-shirt books. Now, there's no reason those people need to mention my book. And it shouldn't even be a blip on my radar--I did the work, I got paid for it, the book is out there so people can find it if they want it. But my ego, that healthy little brat, just hates it. The ego is like the appetite. You have to have it for self-preservation, but it can be WAY too healthy for its own good--and for yours.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
First you see the room from the door. It's tiny, of course--this house was built in the 1940's, when bathrooms and closets were tiny. Check out my shower, with tiles all the way to the ceiling and a Kohler faucet and shower nozzle--so it will last and not give me grief. Way more than I would normally spend. Now I wish I'd taken photos of it the way it looked for the first 17 years we lived here, with blue plastic surround in the shower--just hideous. The only things that date from The Old Bathroom are the bathtub (I wanted the old kind, not fiberglass or whatever they make them from now), the rugs and towels (just waiting to find the right shade of red, as these are 15 years old and pretty threadbare) and the groovy red hearts hanging from the ceiling. Oh, and the red heart lights, below.
Then in the next photo you can see the sink and toilet and cabinet over the toilet--all just the stuff you get at Lowe's--nothing fancy, just functional and the size it had to be to fit. I've seen spreads of bathroom renovations that cost tens of thousands of dollars. It's a BATHROOM, for crying out loud!
In this one, you can see the grooviest thing in the whole room--the red nightlight I got yesterday at The Dreaded Wal-Mart (yes, I do try to avoid that place--the corporate evil--but haven't been doing too well). It looks like a little rocket ship and reminds me of those bubbling Christmas tree lights from my childhood--when it heats up, the red liquid bubbles up the spiral tube inside. I LOVE it!
Then in the last photo (well, I hope it shows up last--with blogger, you never know where the photos will show up, even after moving and adjusting them), you see the light fixture over the sink and the red heart lights--also very old. If anyone knows where I can buy some more of these, please let me know--I love them and would like a couple spare sets but bought these 20 years ago--I know not where.
Those three big lights over the sink are so very bright it makes the whole bathroom look new and bright--I love them. The reason I got them was because the little white finials on the end match the towel rods and faucet handles, etc. And after the electricians left, I was cleaning the floor and looked up and saw no finials. I called them lickety-split and told them I bet the guys had thrown them away in the box. They showed up shortly--said, yeah, they had thrown them away in the box but had gone out to their dumpster (I'd already checked mine) and dug them out. Whew.
And that's it! It just needs the grab bar in the shower and some fabric art on the walls--which I'm going to start working on as soon as I get this pile of sweatshirts dealt with.
Whew. What a long ride it's been. But it's worth it--I can't wait to get a new stopper for the bathtub (they must have thrown away the old one) and sit in the tub with only the little bubbling red light for illumination and just sit there and enjoy the new bathroom. Hooray!
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Since he plans to retire at the end of this year, we've got to do some serious re-conditioning of the cat. For now, you can see that she's got it made in the shade--he's trying to grade papers, but she demands total adoration.
Then, because I still had a lot of purple paint left and was still having fun, I moved to the front door, which I had long ago painted white and then stencilled with green ivy. It was pretty cool back then but has gotten old and tired and, frankly, dirty--mostly from where I kick the door to get it open. Got to buy and install a kickplate. When it's dry I'll replace the voodoo doll that hangs there and the group of protective milagros that I tacked on the front--a man, a woman, a cat, a cowboy hat, a gun, and a knife. Some bring protection TO things, and some keep things AWAY.
Now to put one more coat on the door and then, I think, go to the gym--which closes at 6 pm on Sundays. It's been a productive day--check back soon and I'll try to post photos of the finished acid green sweatshirt withh the text (I've been adding a lot of beads--I wore it last night to a Circle Supper, but no one said anything about it--they aren't into artwear) and--oh, my, really?--The Bathroom (gasp!). The EGE's sealing the grout, I think. All it needs now is the grab bar in the tub, but that's no rush--it's just for later, when we get old and really need one of those.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Oh, honeys, it's fabulous for all sorts of reasons! Oh, sure--it's still cloudy and wet and colder than this part of the country has any right to be, but today I can't complain. Today is FABULOUS. First off, there's this fabulous fuchsia, which I adore. I just got my huge honking order of Procion MX Fiber Reactive Dyes (the only ones I know how to--or care to--use) last night from Dharma Trading, and so I once again have fuchsia, which is the hardest word on the PLANET for me to spell. Here you see three pillows--I didn't dye the whole pillow, just the cover--which are part of the load I bought for $3 each at The Dreaded Wal-Mart. Then there are a couple of hoodies and, in front, a hook-and-eye top from Dharma, which also sells terrific dye-able white cotton (and silk) clothes. The dye isn't straight fuchsia, I have to admit. It's like half hot pink, I think--I didn't measure but just dicked around with it until it looked right. Rich and bright and good enough to eat.
OK. Another bit of fabness is this: it began life as an Old Navy hoody, off-white with a stitched-on patch of metallic gold on the left chest. Well, ick. So I dyed it, took off the silly fake patch, and stamped with metallic olive Lumiere, from Jacquard. When the front's dry, I'll do the back. This is the first time I've used this alphabet I got from Hobby Lobby with a 40%-off coupon sometime last summer. Bought them and shelved them and forgot all about them (sheesh--I hope I'm not the only one who does that) until today, when I went to get another alphabet I haven't used and found these. Good grief. But they're terrific--they were so easy to use, with their cute little handles; and my anal-retentive little soul just loves the box with the tidy little slits and the images that show you just where to put the letters. Yes, I'm just one step away from pegboard with detailed outlines of tools stencilled on it. For clean-up, I just dumped them in a sink of soapy water. Don't know if they have glue that will come off after several dunkings; guess we'll find out eventually. But for now, they're most excellent text stamps for fabric.
And the final bit of fabulousness--Donny, the guy who's finishing up the bathroom, is here working away, making HUGE progress and making the bathroom, promised to be finished back in December, actually look like a usable room again after all this time. Whoa! What a concept! He's doing great work, and it looks so cool--I'd forgotten the whole concept I started out with--the red and black and white I imagined, with storage and places to hang towels and stuff--and so it's a real treat to see it taking shape.
He does frighten me, though. It's 32 degrees, rainy and icy and cold, and he's wearing--as he has every single time we've seen him--SHORTS. And a shirt. No coat! Man, here I am in layers and layers every time I venture out into the arctic wilderness, and he's in shorts, tennis shoes, and a shirt over a t-shirt. And teasing me because I said it was cold. He was raised here (he's one of The EGE's former football players), so it's not like this is normal weather for him. Sure, he's young--but I was NEVER, not even in childhood, impervious to cold. I even turned down the heat while he's here so he won't roast, so I'm REALLY cold. Probably mostly because whenever I go in to answer a question, there is someone in my house wearing s-h-o-r-t-s. Brrrrrr.
I need another cup of tea. . . .fortunately, The EGE called and will stop at Starbuck's (the opposite of The Dreaded Wal-Mart) and bring coffee! Hooray! A fabulous end to a fabulous day! I won't show the bathroom until it's done--but stay tuned: that should be reallyreallyreally soon!
My mother wears, on her frail right hand,
a ring set with diamond chips and a large red stone
she likes to believe is a ruby from her father’s stickpin.
I once took the ring to a jeweler
and know the ruby is only glass
but have never told her. Or, if I have,
neither of us remembers.
My father has a piece of leather, off-white
and oddly stained. On it, in his handwriting
in blue ink: Camp Dachau 1946.
He was told it was human skin,
although, he says,
he has no idea if that is true.
He brought it home anyway.
It doesn’t matter to him whether this skin--
soft and supple, human or animal--
is proof that things happened.
He doesn’t need to feel the grain of evidence
between his fingers to know that things happened,
things beyond imagining,
beyond explaining with a strip of skin,
photographs, an urgent witness grabbing at sleeves,
saying Look. Look at this. I was there. I know.
He knows what he knows,
just as my mother knows the value
of her father’s stickpin, and I
am learning the beauty of light
refracting through red glass.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
I've finished half a dozen sweatshirts and am ready to move on to something else--something other than the felt appliques. I think I'm going to try stamping text today--it's a little more difficult to get clean text on this fabric than it is on smooth, flat cotton, but I think I'll give it a try.
Here you can (I hope) see the stitching I added to three of them--I really like the way it looks, and it will hold things together when they get old and worn. Plus it's a fun thing to do at Starbuck's or while watching DVD's of Sex and the City, still looking for that episode that had the journal skirt. I've been carrying one with me everywhere, and I stayed up until 1:30 this morning finishing up The EGE's sweatshirt--"30" on the front (his high school football number--I made him give me a number to use--hard to think of a number you want on a sweatshirt) and "EGE" on the back, which always makes him roll his eyes, which I find delightful. This running stitch, in bright colors on soft fabric, is just a joy to do--it's relaxing, sort of meditative, and it adds instant color. The sweatshirt you see it on is navy blue--not a color I'd usually wear. But it's an XX Large, perfect for wearing on walks (lots of layering going on here this last week, what with the ^&%$# s-n-o-w and ice and crap) and, as now, over my pajama t-shirt. With the applique and the stitching, it loses its somber boringness.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
I hate snow. I loathe snow. I've seen enough snow in my life--in a childhood spent largely in Montana, Colorado, Wyoming and Utah--to last me until I die. There's a reason I'm living happily in the West Texas Desert. And now this. Good grief. Oh, sure--it doesn't look like much to you, but think about this: we're not used to snow here, so there's no snow equipment--no plows, no sand trucks, no way to take care of the roads. Since it's been wet and below freezing for several days now, the roads are icy, and the schools are closed, and you can't really go anywhere. The roads aren't seriously icy, but there's the Gooberness Factor--the good old boys in pick-up trucks, like the one tear-assing around the parking lot when we came out of Lowe's last night with yet another $200 worth of bathroom remodeling supplies. He was having a fine time, racing his engine and doing donuts in the miniscule amount of snow and just generally being a complete fool in a huge vehicle on a slick surface. That's the reason you don't want to be out on the roads.
Forget the ice. Forget the snow. Beware the goobers.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
But, hey--didn't I just say I didn't like things that look like something they're not? Yes, I did. So what's my excuse for this? Well, it turns out that this is actually something I've thought about.n Here's what I think:
I was an only child, and I never had hand-me-downs. I heartily envied my cousin, who had an older sister who gave her soft, worn clothes. All my clothes were new and scritchy and stiff, and I felt so deprived. So whenever I got anything new, I always washed it immediately--often more than once, if I could get away with it. I still do. My Levi's (which I got on sale (an accident that the saleman honored) for $13.99 each--imagine! 501's for $14!! I bought every pair that fit!)) are in the wash for the 2nd time even as I write this--they're still too stiff, even though they're the broken-in-looking ones. I can't stand new clothes.
My husband, on the other hand, grew up with 8 brothers. You'd get something new, iron it and put it in the closet, and chances are someone else would snatch it out and wear it before you ever got to put it on. So The EGE always wears his clothes brand new, without laundering them first.
I like my clothes to feel old and soft and worn. So this whole aged look is right up my alley--I love the aged, soft, faded, worn look. And I'm collecting techniques for making it happen. One thing that works on denim is sanding--with actual sandpaper, yes. Another thing is to snip the seams, the bound edges--the edges of jeans pockets and waists. And so that was the slits I mentioned with the sweatshirts--cutting little snips on the edges of cuffs and pockets and waistbands, where the clothes would normally wear. It looks cool, but it also helps them to get softer and more pliable. I use a lot of hot water and bleach, including bleach pens (haven't had a lot of great results with those, but I keep hoping). Anything that gets the new off--that works for me. Of course, some of the sweatshirts are now looking pretty funky--turns out the cotton content refers only to the fabric--so the shirt itself shrinks some, but the zipper doesn't shrink a bit, making it kind of buckle and weave and look really funky until it's all zipped up. Freaked me out the first time I took one out of the dryer and found it all buckly and weird. And the threads aren't cotton, so they don't take the dye--lots of white stitching showing everywhere. That's OK, though.
Be glad--be very glad--you don't live in our house. It's a disaster--so messed up I can't find anything. The bathroom is still under construction, even though I bought the shelves and sanded them and covered them with white Contact paper--what a horrid job THAT was--and got all the stuff put back on them. Now I'm waiting on the plumbers (tomorrow, if I'm lucky) to do the bathtub faucets and fix the leaking toilet (meaning I made yet another trip to Lowe's today to buy a variety of parts, most of which I'll have to return) and install the sink and vanity. Then the electricians come Tuesday at 8:30 to do the ceiling light and the light over the vanity and the outlet. Then I have to get someone to come put up the cabinet and install the towel rack and finish the tile in the shower and do the trim. Some of it I can do--I've done a lot the last couple of days--but some of it just makes me nervous--finding the studs, drilling the holes, doing the whole molly screw thing. And I haven't ever mitered corners, so the trim would have a steep learning curve. Maybe I will, and maybe I won't--depends on how much someone else would charge me to do it. For right now, I just want it to be over, so I can return all the stuff I've bought and can't use--I have a whole stack of receipts for stuff that has been returned or may be returned or might someday need to be returned. Lowe's feels like a revolving door to me. Having a room totally torn up is a huge thing--not only that room is unusable, but the rooms that are holding all the stuff that was IN that room--two rooms of our house have been worthless for the past two months. I'm so tired of it. The stress of the whole thing (this was all promised by Thanksgiving) has been a nightmare. Which means that I'm going to have to have The Problem Child (the baby tooth, which is in big trouble and for which I'm currently taking antibiotics, which I loathe and avoid like the plague--believe me, you do NOT want me to get into a rant about the ignorant overuse of antibiotics) pulled and bridged, to the tune of $3000 (with insurance paying only 1/3 of that) and roughly 10 hours spent in the dental chair under sedation (we've tried doing it with just local anesthetic, but there are jaw issues that make it impossible for me to open my mouth wide enough--so they have to try something else so they can get in there--believe it or not, I actually have a very small mouth. Snort. No one ever believes that--it's pretty unbelievalbe to think of me as a small-mouthed person. Ha.)
Well, now that you're bored silly, I'll quit and go check out the cool orange stuff in the dryer--yet another sweatshirt, a huge overshirt, and a pillow cover.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
I can't even begin to describe how much fun this is. My house is a wreck & I can't find anything. My fingers are stained & I'm still in my pajamas. But, man! This is fun!
This is the first Joy Sweatshirt. I'm already working on #2. This one started life as a pale yellow hoody from Academy Sports, where The EGE and I spent some time this weekend. Poor guy--he shopped ALL weekend--Friday night, all day Saturday, and all day Sunday. But what a haul!
Anyway, so this was pale yellow, 100% cotton. Nothing special. But on sale, and a women's medium. First I washed it, and then I dyed it--that was fun: I used golden yellow and hot pink. I'm low on dye colors and have to kind of make up things as I go along and run out of the colors I usually use. Normally I'd use lemon yellow and fuchsia to get a great orange. But I ran out of those long ago and haven't gotten around to calling in an order.
Then, after I dyed it, while it was still wet and before rinsing, I took some sharp scissors and cut slits around the hood and pocket and the ends of the cuffs and waistband. I think I mentioned that we've been going to Abercrombie and Fitch and checking out the aged sweatshirts there. They were on "sale," although their idea of "sale" and my idea of "sale" are, obviously, miles and many dollars apart. I almost bought one, anyway, for inspiration, but couldn't see myself wearing something with a logo on it. I don't get logos--oh, sure--I understand why they're so great for marketing, and I understand some people's insecurity about their own taste and their resultant need to brand themselves with someone else's assurance that they're stylish. Sure, I get all that. But why would you advertise for someone unless you 1) believed in everything about the company and its product and 2) were getting paid every time you wore it?
Oooh. Did I just begin to rant? Sorry!
So I didn't buy one there, but I did look at and touch and rub and study the letters. I don't have the industrial machine to make those old-style varsity letters, but I figured I could do an approximation that would make me even happier. NOT faking it--I hate things that are supposed to look like things they're not--like pleather and fake fur and fake hair. No--I wanted something close. So I got three layers of fabric--two flannel, with cotton in between--and sewed the letters and then cut them out and tossed them in the dyebath with the sweatshirt. Ironed and trimmed them and sewed them on, and there you have it.
Back to work--this morning I'm dyeing a fleece hoody and a huge white cotton shirt ($5.97 at Old Navy), making them grape. I'm also working on Joy Sweatshirt #2. Soon I have to leave for The Dreaded Wal-Mart to buy paint trays, so I can do more coats on the bathroom door, and contact paper, so I can cover the shelves I had cut yesterday at Lowe's, and more non-iodized salt so I can dye MORE stuff. Then I have to go buy more flannel--this is just too much fun! So I'll be painting the bathroom door, covering shevles, and sewing. One of these days I'll come up for air and clean up this house so there's not a huge bin full of dye stuff sitting in the kitchen, and the contents of the bathroom sitting in the guest room, and the piles and piles of cotton garments sitting out here in the studio--the stuff I've already dyed and am using for comparison to the stuff I'm going to dye--it's truly a disaster. But--yeah, it's true--I'm having way too much fun to quit now!
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
As you know, I do not know how to sew. Since that one horrible home ec. class in 7th grade, I haven't had lessons or instruction or workshops. I learned everything I know from watching my mother sew, but she didn't try to teach me anything--she didn't teach me any domestice stuff, believing that cultivating my brain and getting good grades in school was my only job.
So that's my excuse for sitting here this morning cussing at my fleece hoody. Or hoodie. Or whatever. I wanted to fix it up, like I said yesterday. And I had this great transfer of a page from a Kabuki
comic book by David Mack. I'd made it years ago, loving the page but knowing I couldn't use it on anything I made, as I usually end up selling stuff, even when I don't plan to. I try to use my own stuff on all that--stamps I carve, photos I take, etc. Or at least very old found photos.
So I got the transfer and was appalled to find how stiff and crackly it was--I don't remember ever using any transfer sheets that turned out that nasty, but I must have, at one time. I tried to work with it, but it made me itch--it was that horrid. So I found the comic and printed the page to fabric--ahhhhh! So much nicer! Even though I did lose a little color--wonder what's up with that? I can't even remember if I used this same printer or if that old transfer sheet was made with another one. Anyway--
So I tried to attach it with spray adhesive and then free-motion embroider on the machine, and what a huge disaster THAT was--it shifted as I was sewing, and it got wrinkled and I had to rip out all the stitching--what a crappy way to start the day! Ripping out free-motion stitching is a HUGE pain in the butt.
So I re-attached it, pinned it, used the other machine and a straight stitch to hold it in place, and THEN I free-stitched it. We're getting WAY more anal here than is good for me--when I have to be all precise and count things or measure and pin or whatever, I can feel myself backsliding into that horrid anal-retentive, OCD Organizational Hell from which I so narrowly escaped. Eeeeek.
So now it's sewn on, as you can see. And now what? I don't want to spend a lot of time on this thing, as this fleece stuff is not making me happy--the static in it is so intense that all the cat fur in the house leaps onto it when I walk through the room. I actually got on-line this morning to look at cotton sweatshirts--this is, apparently, the time to shop, as many are on clearance. That necessitates a trip to the mall--another version of hell (as you can see, I, who do not believe in hell, have many, many versions of my own). What I want (I think--I may be wrong) is a big, cotton, lined (or double-thick) old sweatshirt that I can stamp and paint and applique and bead and that will be long enough to cover my butt and at least part of my legs so I won't freeze when I wear it to the gym over my leggings.
I think I've seen these in those stores like Abercrombie and Fitch that are so hip and sexy and odorific from the sprayed cologn that my head spins when I go in them to check out the clothes--The EGE, who teaches 9th graders, is appalled by the brevity of the skirts and shorts and grumbles the whole time. I, on the other hand, can actually remember (what a concept! "remembering") my years of tiny little skirts and shorts that were so microscopic that they had no legs but were cut straight across, level with the crotch. The EGE found a pair of these in a box in the shed and held them up and looked at them and then at me and back at them and just shook his head. I offered to model them for him but thought better of it. These things make him rant about women's roles in society and self-respect and careers and hiring practices--fashion is difficult for a feminist.
So ANYWAY--any ideas out there? Something cool and simple to do with fleece? I'm thinking some beads on the edges of the kangaroo pocket in front--just something to cheer it up some. And I think I may make that trip to the (shudder) m-a-l-l. I mean, some of the XXX large ones are on sale at Old Navy for less than $10. Yowza!
In my own defense (as a person who tries not to consume so much), I did go to Goodwill yesterday. It must have been a bad day--on good days, it doesn't bother me that the clothes have been worn a lot. On bad days, I notice that the inside of the sweatshirts are all pilled up with fuzz and lint and possible Other People's Hair, which gives me the big chills. There were very few sweatshirts, anyway, and nothing I wanted. And I excused myself by thinking that people are probably coming there to find warm clothes they need to wear, rather than need to experiment with.
That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.