HOARDER!

The Cuban is out of town for a week and I miss her. I am also left a bit to my own devices to keep myself entertained... and thus distracted from her absence.

Enter my latest Crack Pot Scheme.

See... I have this little problem. I tend to think there are more waking hours in the day than there actually are, and that the work I have to do during them will magically disappear with no effort on my part. I suspect many people suffer from this same illness.

Reality: I have a sooper seekrit project that has to be finished up in two weeks. And I can only work on it at certain times, when a certain princess is out of the house, which really isn't all that often and if I didn't have a cold I would totally be freaking out about getting it done right now. I also have a current sewing project (for me! yay!) to finish by the same day... and I'm not really motivated to sew it. Why? ALICIA. That's why. But I think I can fix it... I think it will be okay. Crash diets and 3/8" seam allowances can fix anything, right? If I can work a miracle on that dress I'll show you when it's done.

NOW, ON TO THE CRACK POT SCHEMING.

Instead of sewing (and working and cleaning and weeding, blah blah blah) I've sort have been knitting. Hey, I'm sick! I can sit there and knit while the keeping the children entertained. I'm Super Mom. (ha) I'm almost done with this thing:

That pile of pink cotton is almost a summer camisole. Almost.

And this is my new acquisition:

poorly lit still life of white denim, 1/3 of a coffee mug and assorted sewing crap

That, my friends, is white denim. I KNOW. I must have been on crack when I bought it. Guess what I'm going to make out of it? A SKIRT. Yup, still on crack! Want to hear something even better? I had my heart set on some white eyelet because I really enjoy people asking me if I've made my clothing out of my old kitchen curtains. But they didn't have anything I liked as far as eyelet goes... *pout* so denim it was. Now here's the kicker: I seem to think I can get the cami and the white skirt done this week, in time to wear my cutesy little outfit to a potluck full of clumsy people holding plates of food piled high with things full of extra-staining power and little sticky gooey kiddos running around on a sugar high desperately searching for their conspicuously absent mommies... and I can just feel it in the bottom of my soul that my white denim skirt is going to turn into some story telling device for later generations to re-live that evening. The spaghetti stain from when so-and-so tripped, the chocolate sauce from when little Johnny was running away from little Mary because eeeeew! girls have cooties!!, the salad dressing from when That Funny Elder told That Funny Joke.

Unfortunately being clairvoyant isn't going to stop me from forging ahead. What can I say? I live to serve. Don't want to let later generations down.