I feel like it's been a hundred years since I've last posted on my blog ~ other than birthdays (which are very, very important ~ just ask anyone that I miss). And, speaking of missing, I miss blogging. Miss. IT. It's my own personal therapy and it's relatively inexpensive. The only thing it costs me is my time (which can be in high demand these days ~ making it pricey). And speaking of pricey ~ pricey things elude me right now. They are far, far away. And speaking of far, far away ~ my KY clan left yesterday afternoon to return to the other side of the Bay and then home. Far. Far. Away. So ~ I am making myself sit a spell and blog. I'm in need of therapy.
And in case you are wondering what I do besides ramble on ~ here's the low down:
First low down is I had to get up and tend to Baby Girl and it is now 2:21PM on Friday and I started this thing on Wednesday!
To continue on. I've been obsessively playing with cotton ~ aka: fabric. I am smitten with the stuff right now. I have several projects in the works.
One of the first ones completed was this trio of gems:
This is what they originally started out as:
Kelly wore this flannel shirt all thru high school. I thought it was adhered permanently to her body. When the time finally came that I could dispose of it, well, I couldn't. I tucked it away for posterity, and I'm glad I did. It made three cute stockings for three adorable grandies. I also managed to get six little ornaments out of the scraps and was able to use those awesome buttons on them. "Waste not, want not.", my mama used to say.
I've also been working on projects for my KY girls. I will be excited to get them done and in their hands. Some of the threads, aka: fabric, are vintage, let's say, around late 1980's. Well, maybe old is a better description. Vintage or old, it sacrificed itself for the sake of cuteness. Cuteness for my Ky girls.
I'm beginning to think I have an undiagnosed addiction to cotton, aka: threads, fabric. I am drawn to it like a moth to a flame, a bee to honey, ketchup to fries, bacon to eggs, Singer to the machine . . . . . . which is the whole reason I've rekindled my love affair with Singer. God bless Issac Merritt Singer (and his rivals).
Playing with fabrics is a "Happy Dale" deterrent. For that, I am grateful.
Now, to avoid that which is L.O.U.D.L.Y. calling my name ~ you guessed it, cotton ~ I am going to force myself to do some laundry. It needs to appear to those that are gone all day that I have actually done something productive with my time. You know how it is when you never have anything to wear. We just don't want that reason to be the laundry's fault, now do we?
Catch ya on the flip side :)
