Author: 459856pwpadmin

  • As usual, straddling the fence


    You Are 45% Left Brained, 55%
    Right Brained



    The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning.
    Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others.
    If you’re left brained, you are likely good at math and logic.
    Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet.

    The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility.
    Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way.
    If you’re right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art.
    Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.

  • Widows and Orphans Need Not Apply

    My closet is filled with widows and orphans.  There is actually no real shortage of clothes that fit, except perhaps for blouses, but each piece is isolated into itself, adrift and alone, with few if any companion pieces that will elevate it into that most desireable of units — an ensemble or outfit.

    This is new and unfamiliar territory for me.  I like clothes.  I like to shop.  I like to sew.  And I have been pretty consistent in my taste and style for some years now.  I can’t describe that style, but it all seems to go together.

    Things got a little dicey as I gained weight, but it didn’s slow me down that much.  Loosing weight however has been different. It happened faster.  And the weight did not go off in the same order it went on.

    Suits that once fit don’t.  Things that used to go together don’t, or look so totally dumpy and dowdy I would be depressed to walk out of the bedroom in them, in fact lookng at myself wearing some of these outfits makes me want to crawl back into bed.    If the pants or skirt fit, the jacket is way too large.  If the jacket fits, the pants are probably a little snug, but there are exceptions.  It’s more than the pounds.  The weight has redistributed itself in new ways, like my fat cells are playing twister and finding new ways to configure themselves on my body.

    Well, it is not all that bad.  I have black pants, casual narrow black pants in several lengths to wear with heels or flats.  I have dressier black knit pants of the St. John variety to wear with several tops.  But no jacket that fits looks good with any bottom that fits, except for a few tried and true casual options.  These are fine for running around town and going to Wal-Mart, but not for everything.  I have one nice suit — a little on the dressy side, not a business suit and it served me well for going to the symphony and dinner last night, but I shall quickly grow sick of it if ite mains the only think I can wear for dressier occasions.

    The green skit I made goes with one sweater well; the jackets I thought would look good are too big or too dumpy. There are no blouses.  The second option, which has been in my photo album looks dowdy even though the same sweater set looks lovely with a longer skirt.  I do have fabric for a jacket that will lovely with that skirt.  It is a wine and green tweed, predominantly wine (oh no, will the green shoes go?) but it will expand my options considerably.

    So. there is sewing to be done.  And for the first time in probably 20 years I can’t just make whatever pops into my head, inspires my imagination or just happens to be lying around. 

    I must PLAN.

    I must make a series of outfits that coordinate.  I must make things that work together, or at least work with items in my wardrobe that I care to save (perhaps both).

    And so I am starting on to work on a plan.

    to be continued…..

  • L’Enfant et les Sortileges

    The New York Philharmonic season has begun, at least for us, again. 

    We went in to NYC for our first concert last night and it was truly spectacular.

    The program started with Ravel’s "L’Enfant et les Sortileges" which was beautifully magical.  What a stunning performance.  All the performances were .  Susanne Mentzer was wonderful as the boy, Patrizia Ciofi was spectacular, but all the performances were very very good.  And the piece was both restrained and magical without the kind of cutsey Disney-like niceness that seems to plague things written and performed for children today.  The performance was restrained and yet lush, with a very French feel.  It was both cruel and kind, terrifying the way I remember children’s stories being in my youth, and yet with peace and resoltion in the end.  Absolutely lovely. 

    The second half of the program was filled by Saint-Saen’s Symphony # 3, the Organ Symphony, which was splendid also, a really spectacular performance.  G was thrilled by how long the organist drew out that final chord…he kept remarking.  He is something of an organ lover my G, not that I object, but I do not get quite the same thrill.

    We came home on a cloud.  A splendid evening!

  • Back to my Music Roots (almost)

    I can’t believe that it has been a week since I was in Knoxville.

    One of my last evenings there, I listened to Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz on the radio with Rich while Miriam was feeding little Owen.  I have long loved that show but we don’t get it on our local public radio station any longer — I am not sure they don’t broadcast it, but if they do it is at a time that my local repeater station switches over to the local university and we get a different kind of music altogether.

    That particular night the guest was Linda Ronstadt who was singing a wonderful selection of old standards.  Since I was reaching the point where I realized I needed to leave the kids on their own, and I was homesick for my own place and my own beloved, it was a very poignant hour, and I sat silently knitting and singing along to myself.  I did think to myself that Linda has really made great strides over the course of her career and has obviously tried to work on her interpretative ability.  She was quite good.

    Now I have long loved Linda Ronstadt.  I have some of her early albums and I always thought she was a great technical singer with a wonderful voice.  But interpretive ability — bah.  In the early years it was just not there.  Let’s just say that I was suitably impressed, impressed enough to seek out an album when I came home.  Oh, I’ll admit she’s not Frank Sinatra or Billie Holiday, but I think I could enjoy Linda singing some of these songs as well. 

    So I went to Barnes & Noble and bought a few things — in fact I went  a little overboard.  I used to buy a lot of records in a lot of genres, but lately, as G is mostly interested in classical music to the exclusion of all else, our purchases have revolved around the classical department.  I hadn’t realized I was positively itching for a little more variety. 

    The first three of my purchases have been played frequently this week and I think they are winners. Two of them feature Linda Ronstadt.  (And by the way,  I know you can listen to the music at the store, and I do, but I find that those little snippets just give me a hint.  It is not until I play an album or a song over and over that I know whether it is a keeper or just bores me to tears.)

    And so back to Linda.  The first album I bought is an old one, What’s New:

    Whats_newI purchased it specifically because it contained some of the songs Linda sang on the show, especially "Someone to Watch Over Me". 

    I actually do remember considering this album when it originally came out (23 years ago?) but at the time was too much of a snob to take it seriously.  I was still convinced that Linda was great with country-rock but couldn’t handle the standards.  I was 25, still  plagued with the confidence and arrogance of youth and had just come out of a college experience where swing dancing to big band music was in and I had been introduced to Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald.  (that mixed with standard disco and late 70’s early 80’s rock).  Besides I was having enough trouble at that stage of my life with young men thinking I was too old-fashioned and serious for my own good, that I didn’t think I needed to add another album of standards to my collection.  Ahh, the insecurity and ignorance of youth.

    But back to the here-and-now.  When I first listened to What’s New, I will admit I was a little disappointed.  It was lovely, but not as lovely as the greats.  Of course I also listened to it under full stereo power in the family room.  Although an albums of songs is not the same as a symphony or Chamber work, the full-scale treatment provided by good speakers does draw more attention to any absence of nuance.  It is not that the performances were bad.  They weren’t.  Linda Ronstadt, as I recall, partially took on this project as an attempt to grow as an artist and it is obvious she learned a lot.  It is also obvious to me that she has learned more in the intervening 20 some years.  On the Ipod however, the songs shine.  At first I would say that Linda’s performance of "Someone to Watch Over Me" on the radio was better than that on the album.  After listening on the Ipod I am not as sure.  Radio broadcasts have their own problems with reproduction of sound, and Rich and Miriam’s stereo, although nice, does not have the sound quality of ours.  The Ipod with speakers is pretty good, but it is much closer to what I originally heard on the radio broadcast than what I heard at home in the family room.  So I have been singing along with Linda all week, and enjoying every minute.

    The second Linda Ronstadt album I purchased is a new one: Adieu False Heart  with Ann Savoy.

    Adieu_false_heartI will admit that I know precious little about Ann Savoy; I have heard of her, I know she sings traditional Cajun songs, but otherwise I am completely in the dark.  I am not aware that I have ever heard her sing.

    But the album sounded tempting in the little "play the CD" thingy at the store so I bought it.  I am very happy that I did.  This is a wonderful album if you like albums of slow songs lovingly and beautifully rendered and sung.  The performances run more toward the art song than traditional Cajun fiddle music, but the songs are all beautifully performed and mastered.  The album as a whole works well, there are really no disappointments here, and although there is a wide variety of song there is a consistency to the performance that helps tie them all together into a unified whole.   The vocals themselves are just exquisitely beautiful.  Ann’s voice is much more expressive than Linda’s but there are still few who can match the absolute beauty of Linda Ronstadt’s tone.  The two blend together and compliment each other fabulously well, and there are songs where they are so well matched that it seems impossible to determine where one ends and the other begins.  I think this is an album that I will listen to frequently and for a long time.

    My third musical selection this week was in a totally different vein, one that had me dancing around more than listening.  I bought A Bigger Bang by the Rolling Stones.  Who knows what came over me,
    A_bigger_bangthis is not completely in character, although I have long loved good rock, but I am not complaining, as this album really rocks.  As I said, this album had me dancing around the house.

    The songs are good, the music rocks, the album is consistent.  I don’t think there is a lemon here, but I will admit that I don’t really have a feel for the songs yet — I’m too busy dancing to slow down and pay attention to the words, but occasionally something catches my attention and I pause for a minute before the beat gets back into my blood and I boogie off again.  Jagger’s voice is amazing. Keith Richards and Charlie Watts, when they just get into the music, can drive a beat like no one else.   I might be middle aged, the stones might be middle aged, but its nice to know we still rock.

    I think the album will continue to grow on me, even as I grow more familiar with the lyrics:  Heartbreak and breaking hearts, the terrible things that women (and men) do. It seems like this is a return to, or an acceptance of, what The Stones do best.

    But I must admit that although I love the pure rock and roll sound of The Stones, I have never been the biggest fan.  During their youth, I was just too young, or too naive.  I learned to like the music; it grew on me with time.  I was in college before I really paid attention to The Stones, and they were just one of so many new references that were being thrust upon me. 

    I arrived on the East Coast, at Vassar, a naive girl from West Texas who was really culturally out of her depth.  I learned fast.  I reveled in the experience.  It was a tremendous change.  Here I was, a simple girl who listened to Barry Manilow, Neil Diamond, and John Denver, but not the real country singers that my Texas peers adored.   I was immersed in "The Three B’s" (Back, Beethoven, and Brahms) and loved Bob Willis and the Texas Playboys, Delbert McCLinton, and Disco.   The Stones did not really figure in my life before college.  Then there were too many new things to absorb:  Swing Bands, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, King Crimson, The Stones, Joan Baez, Stravinsky, Hovanness, John Cage; the list could go on and on.

    The Stones were too much angry young men for me to really appreciate when I was young.  But I always loved the beat, loved to hear the sound.  It always made me want to dance.  Gradually they grew on me, but I didn’t buy their albums until Tattoo You, the only other Stones album I ever purchased (although we did make tapes of Beggars Banquet and Let it Bleed while George and I were dating and he was taken with both albums at a friend’s house.  I still can’t explain that, and even he admits it is completely out of character — must have just been that post-divorce state of mind.) Some of my friends, the ones who were hard-core Stones fans, were appalled at my choice, since they pretty much agreed that the Stones’ momentum had run dry and felt I should buy one of the older, classic, Stones albums.  And I can’t really explain it, although I still smile whenever hear "You Make a Grown Man Cry".  I think it was the presence of Sonny Rollins, even though he appears only on three tracks.  Those tracks seem to affect the entire album, as if he was raising a bar that the Stones then had to challenge themselves to meet.  And successfully they did.  The R&B overtones on this album really roar, and threaten to go out of control, but they are always reigned in, just barely.  Maybe it’s because this album doesn’t seem as contemptuous as previous albums and I was just more comfortable with the songs.  Anyway Tattoo You has long been my favorite Stones album.  Maybe we’ve all just matured, but A Bigger Bang  will probably run a close second.

  • What I did in Summer Camp

    There is precious little to show for my time at camp, but what is there is "cherce".

    Greenpaisley1

    Simplicity4186_4 Pattern:  Simplicity 4186, the same pattern I used for the maroon cotton skirt in August. View D.

    Fabric:  Green, pink, and wine wool challis

    Lining:  Dark green bemberg rayon

    The skirt is meant to sit about an inch below the waist.  This one actually sits about 3 inches below my waist because I forgot that I had lost weight since I made the previous iteration and therefore failed to cut a size smaller.  It still looks nice.

    Although I did lengthen the cotton skirt made in August, I did not lengthen the pattern for this skirt.  I wanted this skirt to be shorter than the cotton skirt, about mid-knee, as I have seen several soft pleated skirts in stores and magazines this fall, mostly shown at about knee length.  Although I love a paisley skirt, I felt a longer length would look dowdy and dated.  Hopefully this length, worn with a jacket will look elegant but also fresh. 

    Since I used a hem facing (see trim discussion below) the skirt is still longer than specified in the pattern.  The pattern is cut for a 22" skirt; mine is 23".

    Greenpaisley3

    To make fringed hem, I cut a hem facing piece using the bottom of the skirt pattern.  Then I cut two strips of fabric the same length as the width of the bottom of the skirt.  I seamed the strips together and inserted them between the skirt and hem facing when it was attached.  Then I simply fringed the insert piece.   The facing piece adds weight to the skirt and helps it hang well and also means that the fringe does not need to be permanent.  I can remove the inset piece at any time.

    Greenpaisley4

    Since this skirt sits on the hip I also felt it would be best not to have a waistband. Greenpaisley5_1

    First I attached the lining at the invisible zipper.

    Then I sewed the lining to the skirt at the waist and pressed it well. 

    Next I sewed the washed, and shaped petersham to the seam allowance at the waist, being careful to position the top edge of the petersham so that it would be located just at the turn of the fabric when the skirt was turned right side out.  This kept the seam from being too bulky but still provides stability at the waist.  I think it looks neat and simple.  The paisley is so busy that the finish almost disappears.

    After grading and pressing the seams, I made two rows of stitching around the top of the stitch to hold everything in place.  I think it looks very simple  If you click on the photos they should enlarge and you might be able to discern the stitches on the paisley.

    The invisible zipper looks clean and finished.  I could have sewn it a little closer and more neatly, but since I tend to err on the side of sewing my invisible zips too close to the zipper teeth, I tried to be cautious here.  Even with a stabilized zipper seam, the challis was fairly ravelly and I was of no mind to deal with ripping out zippers.

    And finally, here I am in my finished skirt:

    Greenpaisley

    I don’t yet know how it will look with a jacket as none of the jackets I thought would go with it fit.  Apparently I have not lost weight in quite the same distribution as I put it on.  I do have fabric for a jacket, and I suppose I will have to move that further up in the sewing queue, but that can wait for another post.

  • Life is like a sappy novel

    I like to think of myself as an intelligent and moderately sophisticated despite frequent appearances of evidence to the contrary.  I have been lucky enough in my life to count among my friends and family truly exceptional individuals, and I realize that I am not in the same league, but at times I hope that I display some sense of taste.  But not perhaps always.      Perhaps it is just that I have been so well indoctrinated into the culture of the educated elite, that it seems somehow shameful to admit that I adore truly trashy romantic novels and sappy television shows with happy endings.  I can watch every movie made by Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly over and over without remorse, and I love Danielle Steel novels.

    Toxic_bachelors By Friday I was beginning to feel a little at loose ends in Knoxville.  I had been away from home for almsot two weeks, and although I love to travel, I love being home even more.  I was longing to be back in my own space.  The kids were also getting the hang of their new schedule and getting used to spending time with Owen so I wasn’t really needed as much as I had been in at the beginning of the week.

    When I saw this novel alongside the checkout line in the grocery store, I snapped it up.  Danielle Steel novels may be formulaic, but they provide a perfect escapist fantasy with a happy ending and triumph over adversity and unkindness.  Just what I needed.

    So I took my book over to Starbucks and ordered a Grande Mocha and curled up in a comfortable chair and started reading.  In fact I drank two Mochas during that interlude and it doesn’t seem to have hurt me any.  I finished the book in about 2 1/2 hours and felt relaxed and refreshed.  I think the money was well spent for the time — I would have spent nearly the same for a movie and probably not have enjoyed it as much.

    Having enjoyed my little escape I was able to throw myself wholeheartedly back into my cooking and cleaning duties and get everything ready for my departure from Tennessee and return to New York. 

    And upon my arrival, just to prove that sometimes life can be a little bit like a sappy novel, when I came down the escalator at the airport I saw G standing right outside the security doors, waiting.  Both our eyes lit up and we went running into each other’s arms as he swirled me around in a giant hug.  Who says happy endings can’t happen every day?

  • “I ride an old Paint”

    Shortly after she graduated from college I gave Miriam my old sewing machine.  She thought she might do a little sewing:  curtains, pillows, perhaps even a skrit eventually.  She hasn’t been bitten by the sewing bug but she still has the machine and has used it for a few home dec and craft projects.  When there was a little bit of sewing to be done, the old machine and I found an opportunity to become re-acquainted.

    Kenmore

    The sewing was simple,  a few flannel squares to be hemmed for the baby.  A simple square shade for the master bathroom window.  The machine runs well even though it was a little sluggish and chuggy at first.

    A good cleaning and oiling and solved that problem and now she runs like a dream.  It was so nice to take the cover off and oil the parts.  It had been so long….

    I had forgotten what it was like to have to oil a completely mechanical machine with moving parts everywhere.  The new machines want a drop of oil in one or two places.  This machine wants you to take the top off, the head plate off, the bottom off, and oil pretty much every moving part.  It was a lovely way to spend  a rainy Saturday.  And speaking of rainy Saturdays, since there is nothing electronic in this sewing machine, we had no problems sewing away while the thunder and lightening roared around us.

    I hadn’t really though about the old Kenmore since Miriam moved to Tennessee and I used her to make curtains for Miriam’s first apartment.  That was probably the last time she was oiled, 5 years ago I think.  I had forgotten how reliable she is, how smoothly she sews, how nice to have in a pinch. 

    My parents gave her to me about a year after I graduated from College, I think it was 1981, when I had a job and needed work clothes on a pretty tight budget.  At first I used my room-mate Tracy’s machine.  It pretty much only sewed medium weight cotton or wool and balked at everything else.  I mostly made skirts and simple tops back then.  When I got the kenmore I grew more adventurous, trying polyester and silk blouses, pants, and eventually my first jacket. Although I had learned to sew in high school I was not really a willing pupil, not until I was on my own earning my own money and I realized what a boon being able to sew would be for my wardrobe.

    Now I have fancier machines, but some part of me still misses the old Kenmore.  This is a machine I can actually take the cover off and undertand.

  • A few conversations

    I am still exploring Knoxville. Yesterday’s errands sent me to the western side of town, I suppose far in local terms, but not really.  It took me less time on the road than any attempt at shopping at home; the mileage might be smaller but the time spent traveling is far greater in New York.  Tennessee is able to build far more and better roads than New York without the excessive gas tax.  That is not to say that all other things are equal though.

    Yesterday my conversations with people I met seemed to center around families with children.  There was the store where I tried to make some photocopies, where Dad ran the store and Mom had just come in with their twin daughters to bring lunch.  It is a fairly new enterprise and although they are on target so far, Dad is the sole employee of the business and so is there all day six days a week from about 9 until 6.  His 7 month old twin daughters bring him lunch everyday and afford a little break and family time.

    At another small store, mom was filling in for an absent employee for a few hours and had her 5 month old son in his car-seat carrier with her at the counter.  The junior entrepreneur was fascinated by the sounds and lights made by the copy machine as it did its work; he’ll be taking it apart before his parents are ready, I’m sure.

    I was much more successful in my pursuit of perfect vegetables this time, I suppose learning delivery times is an important consideration in any town.  I managed to come home with some lovely chard which will be transformed into soup for lunch today.

    On my way to the store I stopped at the local wine store to pick up another bottle for a little evening indulgence of a glass before bed, or after dinner is made and while we are waiting for Owen to settle down so that his mom can enjoy her dinner.  When I arrived, I was the only customer, but it must have been a brief lull for the place quickly filled up. As I perused the shelves, trying to decide which one bottle I felt like drinking, I had a nice conversation with a young woman in her mid twenties who was scanning the rows of Spanish wines.  She too was exploring.  She and her husband have gotten interested in wine and have started drinking and trying different things.  She said they worked out a budget and decided that if they were careful they could spend $25 a week on wine, and they buy weekly because it is more fun and easier to manage.  Some weeks they buy two bottles or even 3 if they are lucky and some they buy one.  Some weeks they don’t spend all the money so they save it up for something special another time.  They are having a great time and she is learning the kinds of things they like and why and having lots of fun.  We didn’t talk of anything else but wine and learning.  She is interested in Spanish wines right now, Temperanillo especially. The conversation brought a smile to my face,

    But now, the kitchen calls again and there is a pot of soup waiting to be made.

  • Absent without blogging

    I am in Knoxvile, Tennessee, where I am becoming acquainted with my new grandson. He is stil working on the finer points of personality develoment; I suspect this will take a while, but certain patterns are starting to form and he has the household jumping and yielding to his will.  I remind him that this, the first few weeks of life are truly the only time that the world revolves around one person, and that he should make the most of it while he can.   Of course one beatific little smile, or o-shaped pout and the world falls at his feet once again.

    Meanwhile I am enjoying Knoxville.  I have long thought it was not a bad town.   I think I was more positive when Miriam first moved here and I have learned to see more potential during the intervening years.  Still, when G starts talking about the post-retirement move, a little panic sets in.  At this point the panic revolves around grocery shopping but this is not unique to Knoxville.  I forget how lucky I am in my proximity to New York City and the Culinary Institute.  In many ways Dutchess County is closer in attitude to Knoxville than NYC, but in terms of provisioning I am truly spoiled.  I am surrounded by good farms that produce vegetables, poultry, meat, and cheese, all of which survive because of the availability of New York City restaurants and farmer’s markets, and which for the most part do not survivce due to the efforts of local residents.  This cornucopia was not there when I moved to the area.  The local farm-stand-evolved into upscale market sells good fish and meat as weill as fine olive oils and vinegars, not always up to my standards, but superior to most of what I have found so far down here.  I suppose if we moved I would have a vegetable garden again, or lose interest in food, or become well acquainted with my UPS delivery person.

    But this problem would not be unique to Tennessee.  Besides. Miriam is looking for a position beginning next fall.  Who knows where the new family will end up. 

    Otherwise, I am enjoying the mild weather, cooking, cleaning, and holding my grandson.   Grandparent duty is more than adequate pay for a little scut work.  And as for cooking, well it has been some years since I fed a family regularly for three meals a day, I am enjoying it.  But then I always cooked, even when I worked full time and G’s kids would spend summers or vacations with us.  I thought nothing of coming home from a long day of work and puttering in the kitchen.  45 minutes was my workday time-frame.  If I could put the meal together in 45 minutes or less I was content with the effort involved. I can’t remember when I last had a job I left by 5 PM, when I was working full time anyway, but I also can’t recall when I didn’t thnk preparing the evening meal worth the effort.   Weekends of course were play time, when I could experiment in the kitchen and tackle grander culinary delights. 

    How strange my step-children found this emphasis on family meals.  How oddly they occasionally looked at me when I insisted that everone be at the table at dinner time.  How many times do I recall my incomprehension at a young adult who would go to MacDonalds 30 minutes before dinner time and then be too full to eat.    It is hard to enforce new standards and habits on people whose normal routine is different, and in whose lives you are not an  authority. 

    I don’t expect anyone will continue the good works when I am gone, but I am happy to feed them in the meantime, just as I am happy to prowl the aisles of the local WalMart and Kroger as well as various esoteric food markets looking for something to put on the dinner table.  So far I find WalMart preferable to Kroger, or at least I don’t find the difference to be worth the effort.  The produce does not shine at either one, but I have had more success at WalMart.  Surprising.  I don’t really dislike Walmart, in fact there are quite a few thins I like about it, and I have no trouble buying groceries there.  It is just too large and overwhelming as a whole, and liberal intellectuals are not supposed to like WalMart, because they don’t pay their employees enough or offer insurance to all of them.  Support the local markets I am told.  But we all like the cheap prices.  We also all forget that our local markets don’t necessarily pay a liveable wage either, or offer health insurance; at least they don’t where I live.  Perhaps some people are more fortunate. 

    And so I explore this world of big box stores and cheap gas.  Put me on a limited access freeway and my inner Texan comes out, zipping along happily with the other American gas guzzlers.  Add to this the fact that gas is over a dollar cheaper than it is at home and I have no qualms exploring even though some little nagging voice tells me that I should.  Give me a chance to explore Super Target, or Hobby Lobby or some other wonderful example of American Marketing and I enjoy the challenge.  Think of it as a sociological study. Imagine how wonderous this must seem to much of the world.  Who am I, beneficiary that I am off American wealth, to complain of the availability of more food and stuff than any person needs or could ever use up.

    It is a wonderous world my little grandson has been born into, far different than the world either I or is parents entered oh so many years ago.  What will it be like when he is our age?

  • We interrupt this program

    The challis skirt is done.

    A muslin has been made of the simplicity jacket.  The black and white fabric has been cut and marked but not interfaced.  The charmeuse lining has not yet been cut.

    Thursday night I get to say hi to my new grandson!

    Happy sewing!