Monday, April 30, 2012

bangled beauty tutorial


i've decided to throw my hat into the MMM ring.  zo commands: no panic sewing.  i like that rule.  but really my closet is mostly made up of fancy frocks.  so, instead of finishing off a few casual items this weekend, what did i do?  i made some bangles.  and a tutorial on how to make some bangles.

bangles!! i love them so!! and i had to leave so many of them behind in new york!  most of my bracelets are of the thick and chunky tree trunk variety, not travel friendly when you're trying to stay under the weight limit and still get half your home across the country.  as i stitched up my version of an everyday dress, i pondered my choice of facing: this orange dye job from my self drafted dress.  why did i choose to put it on the inside?  what happened to my pattern matching penchant?  was there not enough whiskey in my sunday coffee?

then... eureka!  i could wear it on my wrist.

you will need:
medium to heavy weight fabric (i used quilting cotton)
medium to heavy weight interfacing (lies! i used light weight)
thread, scissors, ruler, marking pen
an irish coffee


this is a GREAT way to use up those scraps of special fabric and bits of interfacing that you can't bear to throw out.

first, decide on the circumference of your bangle-to-be.  you could tie a string in a loop and practice getting it on and off, or loosely wrap fabric round your wrist, or have a nice long swig of that coffee and then dunk your hand in the mug and measure the circumference of that.  (actually, that works.) remember, you don't want it too wide or it'll fall right off your mitts.  add 3/8s inch for your seam allowance... my circle came out to 9 inches total, but i have gorilla hands.

(i guess you could also measure an existing bracelet and add 3/8s inch, but where is the fun in that.)

you can cut it to any width you like.  for this tute, i just used my invisible ruler to measure out a perfect 9 x 2 inch rectangle.  lay your fabric wrong side UP on your ironing board.


press & fold over one long end 1/4 inch.  then eyeball fold the other long edge in and press, so that when you fold that 1/4 inch edge down, you will make...


an envelope!  give it a good press job.  this is the final width of your bracelet.


now lay that pressed strip down on your interfacing.  cut 2 strips of interfacing to match this width & length.


open up your bracelet (wrong side is still UP) and lay one piece of interfacing down the middle, "glue side" touching the wrong side of the fabric.  carefully steam press the interfacing onto the fabric, keeping it straight. don't press your 1/4 fold out, you'll need it in a minute!


now take your second piece of interfacing and place it "glue side" UP, right on top of the strip you just pressed.


fold those long edges back up to make your envelope, and give it a good steam press to seal it up.  this is the inside of your bracelet.



at this point, the envelope is not completely sealed.  the little 1/4 fold nicely hides any raw edges, but it isn't fully touched by the interfacing.  head on over to Ye Olde Sewing Machine and sew, inside up, along that folded edge to close it.  yes, that's magic tape on my 221 featherweight.  WHAT.  izzie is a bit of a punk, she can take it.

you may now have another swig of spiked coffee.  what, you drank it all already?!  GOOD GIRL.  go pour yourself some more, i'll wait.

turn that jammy right side up and go to town with some topstitching. i just went with straight lines back and forth but it's all up to you and your level of inebriation.  the topstitching will help your finished bracelet keep its shape, but if you're going with a heavy weight fabric/interfacing, you may not need it.



we'll seal the deal with a little french seam action... right sides together, sew at 1/8 inch. then clip the corners at an angle.



turn it to wrong sides together, and sew at 1/4 of an inch.  with the tip of your iron, give the seam a press to one side and topstitch it down.



DONE.  now you have a bangle that won't break the bank or the weight limit on that weekender bag, and you've used up those scraps ya love so very much!



here they are lounging by the fabric for my casual dress... you'll be seeing these lovers in action later this week as i document my me-made-may (my personal pledge coming up later today... i'm working out the kinks).

happy monday y'all!  

Sunday, April 29, 2012

wash n wear


as i mentioned in my post about lady danburry's awesomeness, at this time last weekend we were in vegas.  this was my view by the pool, where i loafed around in a ten dollar ross-dress-for-less jersey shift.  it was a spur of the moment trip, and i didn't pack well AT ALL.  mainly because we weren't heading there as high rollers, we were more... freeloaders... warmly welcomed freeloaders... but it put me in a different packing mindset.  i wasn't ready for the fabulosity of the joint.  

but in retrospect, neither were most of the guests there.  the clientele did not match the setting, almost purposefully.  no one was dressed during daylight hours.  in fact, i couldn't take a picture in the extravagant hotel atmosphere because it was cluttered with so much meh.  i'm not judging (much) as i was most definitely part of the meh.  at this hour last sunday, i was rolling out of bed in my gap "pool pants" (glorified pajama bottoms) and slouchy t shirt.  Musketeer The Third was ravenous.  would it take long for us to motivate?  two minutes later, the three of us were out the door and looking for breakfast.  to our horror, we found it.  my BBBLT beat the hell out of me.  (the triple Bs do stand for 300% more bacon.  i admitted defeat.)

heinously fed and back at the hotel, i wondered what i would wear by the pool.  opting for the second time that morning to wait on showering, i threw on a little more blush and staggered over to ross.  at about minute 49 of looking through the shoe aisles, it hit me: i'm standing in the middle of a public store, unwashed, in something i slept/waded around in bacon in for over FOURTEEN HOURS.   did i hurry back to the room in shame?  no.  i clocked it, spent another twenty minutes hitting up the junior miss dress racks, even tried things on in the fitting room, and returned triumphant to le hotel with my score.  AT THIS POINT I SHOULD HAVE SHOWERED.  i did not. bathing myself in sunscreen and a newly minted sundress, i then lounged by the pool.  for six more hours.  it didn't matter.  i fit right in.  

regaining my sense of smell, i did finally wash my disgusting ass before we left for dinner.  hotel evening wear also had a non dress code.  our trio observed the gaggles of women in micro mini dresses.  EVERYWHERE.  i don't mind them,  our fellow musketeer said,  in fact i like them, it's just that they keep tugging on them.  why do women want to wear something like that?  isn't it irritating?  

yes, i said, IT IS, i just don't get it, and gazed down upon them from my lofty and finally washed tower.  i felt quite holier-than-thou about the fact that i was in a short, but draped, skirt.  then a technicolor rose lace printed stretch mini came teetering from around the corner, and it all came back to me in a rush:  I OWNED THAT EXACT DRESS.  i wore it to vegas the first time ruggy & i visited.  and pulled down on the hemline every five steps, and told ruggy i felt like he'd just picked me up on the boulevard.  admitting defeat for the second time that day, i amended my answer to his question: you just go through it.  there's a point in your life where you absolutely have to wear the skintight micro mini dress. 

of course it's cool if that point in your life happens to turn into a lifelong thing.  so long as you shower daily.

what is it about vegas that makes you want to behave abnormally?  this is certainly the low end of the spectrum, ooooh, i didn't shower and i walked outside in my pjs!  i'm so baaaaaaaaad!  

you know what i want?  an old school casino hotel with dress codes.  evening wear is black tie, day wear is linen, poolside wear would be sweeping cinched caftans with long slits revealing pinup bathing suits.  for the gents, speedos are taboo.  an elegant kind of joint.  

would you go?

Saturday, April 28, 2012

in which i take over the world


on an busy workday running about with ruggy, i spied with my little eye a shop,  a shop in an area where certainly there should be no shop of its kind... a shop called Fabric Planet.

ruggy calmly pulled over and then cringed as he watched me leap from the car, ignore the crosswalks three blocks away and make a mad dash across six lanes of traffic to get to this mecca.

they had an industrial sized bin of dollar-a-yard out front, what can i tell ya.


upon entering the store, i heard OONA!  WHAT!  i replied.  the lovely chica behind the counter knew me from kalkatroona!  when i asked if she'd pose for a blog picture she gaily climbed up onto a rickety stool and did a little jig.

can you see her fabulous fuchsia glasses amidst the color?  if ever rainbow brite had a vomitorium, here it would be!  it's just the right size of shop, not too big, not too small, and red riding hoods of all kinds roam the aisles, while the grannies that run the joint ask about their latest sewing projects like they hang all the time.  (actually they seemed early 20s, but just go with me here,  i'm feeling a fairytale theme.)

i found a couple fabric goodies, this absolutely stunning wool, which BeSpeckled Dancer made into a wondrous coat...


and then this.


lemme back that up for you.


WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH ALL THOSE 8s AND 3s.  i was too caught up in the color to see the repeating numerals on the bolt.  there's another 3 completing a diamond structure.  what does it stand for?  do they come in peace?  anyone?

it's a magical place and i'll be back, oddly placed fabric mathematical shapes or not.  and it was such a kick to be called out by kalkatroonaan name.

i don't quite know how it happened but i also seem to be popular on teh sewing interwebz...  I'M TAKING OVER YOUR READERS AND YOU CANNOT STOP ME.  little pigs, little pigs, let me in!  evidence here at miss crayola creepy's, and here at rhinestones and telephones, where i tell you how i made my taffy blouse (for alla y'all who maybe wanted to read about sewing instead of an amazing jazz concert), more proof (of the drunken sort) at did you make that's fabulous pyjama party (so many peeps jumping on beds today!), and some getting to know you at my new friend what's up cupcake (i loved her questions).

Thursday, April 26, 2012

I DID NOT MAKE THIS


just a little all-caps action for you image lovin' speed readers out there. I SO DID NOT MAKE THIS.  as the label would suggest, i have my bratty little hands on my very own lady danburry.


in fact this ensemble has been in my possession for quite some time.  i was agonizing over the perfect spot to photograph this vintage silk french seamed top and tailored velvet skirt GENIOUSITY when i finally realized: no one is going to care about the background.  with that in mind i resolved to do my standard back door shoot that very saturday.  

and then, surprise, we went to las vegas.


you would think i'd take a few shots out in the wild... i would think so too.  but egads, the sheer amount of drunkards i'd need to photoshop out!  it would take DAYS.  as it was, i had to spend an hour photoshopping the couch.  no, there was no drunken ruggy on it (much), but it was a black couch.  banner idea to photograph a black skirt against a black couch.  the background might not be important, but it should at least contrast.

(i thought the lines of the couch and the shapes in the painting fit well with the lady's blog, thinking in shapes. this idea made me lose all rational thought.)

the blouse is a little bit of vintage silk chic airy loveliness.  and it even happily stoops to slum it with my six dollar high waisted forever 21 jeans.  AND WOULD YOU GET A LOAD OF THAT FIT?!  i have never, ever ever ever, had a pencil skirt fit me so exquisitely.  no bubbles, tapered like a second skin, and she did it with just the regular three measurements, bust waist hip.  when i zipped it up and got a load of the back view, i stammered in increasing volume howdidshedothat howdidshedothat and immediately ran to show ruggy.


BOOTY BABY!  look at that piece of genius on the waistband!  look what it does to my booty, yo!  and can i say EXPOSED ZIPPER!

when ruggy saw the outfit, he flipped a little.  he flipped a little again when i put it on in vegas, but being a bit of a speed listener, he forgot that lady danburry made it.  babe, he said, this is awesome.  it fits you SO well.  you really should make more things like this.

thanks, i said, thinking of the many gathered full skirts and tank bodices in my me-made closet, and then gently reminded him that I. DID. NOT. MAKE. THIS.  


i love how the print plays with the yummy art deco bias strips!  this beautiful waistband goes nowhere... not down my hips, not up my chest.  no matter how much sway i put in my step.  and let me tell you, i got supersize fries in my shake in this ensemble.  sheena easton plays in my head when i wear this, full blast.  don't hate, Strut Pout Put It Out was the bomb.


lady, you rock.  i know i'm fawning, but i'm an expressive person... and it's true!  have a look for yourself: at her blog, at her shop, you'll fall in crush just like i did.

EDIT: you've probably guessed from the comments, this was a gift that miss danburry was inspired to design for me!  aaaaannnd... you can haz your very own oona blouse at her shop, i do believe there's a huge 50% off sale going on through the end of april.  inspired by and named after?  yes, nettie, my already bratty noggin has swelled to ENORMOUS proportions.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

catioonasaurus rex

oh hello.  though i've been MIA, i've been lurking your blogs on my tiny phone and writing comments in my head! what, you didn't get them?  note to self: check internet connection in brain.  but i landed back in civilization yesterday and met cation


you know this sewasaurus rex, yes?  she is delicious.  wildly funny.  makes dresses out of fire.  and AP in just about subject you could think of.  at several points during our catioona extravaganza, i lost the power of speech and she still knew what i was trying to say.  and to top it off, she totally has me beat in color.  though in my defense i DID have a neon yellow belt on.  

at the end of the day i was also wearing guacamole from my bacon wrapped hot dog, making it hard to disguise my choice of lunch upon my return.  ruggy finds it difficult to get down with cart food.  but lookie there!  do you spie that overstuffed baggy!  look what i had to distract him with!


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCK SHE MADE ME A SEWASUARUS REX BAG

jealous?  i know.  you should be.  and it was stuffed with that orange printed jersey gorgeousity.  don't hate.

as for myself, i brought nothing.  nada, zip.  i stammered out an excuse involving being parted from my true stash, but really... at this point can i use that line without my nose growing several hundred feet?  (eww, that image is disturbing.)  between the levine loft and FIDM's shop, i'm acquiring a stash that puts my NY shelves to shame.  but unlike my bratty self, cation is a giver.  to everyone! she's got a fancy and be-a-yoo-ti-fully drawn tutorial up on her blog right this very minute so that you can haz your very own sewasaurus rex bag.  go see! EDIT: i should tell you, this is one of them fancy collapsible tote bags that squeezes in on itself like a science project and hides in your purse.  for realz.

but before you go, i'll throw you a bone.  wanna see some of the pretty pretty stuff i snagged?  all in all: about 50 yards of fabric, for about 35 dollars. i shit you not.  

after strolling through the FIDM museum, we thought it best to have a gander at the shop's offerings.  everything was on sale at a dollar a yard.  thaaaaaat's right.  and the lovely ladies there tell me that will be the price du jour henceforth.




there are no words.

we hit levine's loft next, naturally, where we enjoyed imagining what might be at the bottoms of all those long languishing boxes.  several times, she had to restrain me from finding out.  what if there was gold at the bottom of one?  the only sensible thing to do then would be to dig to the bottom of Every Last Box.  you'd be there for all eternity.  i failed miserably on all counts of non-enabling... cation will suddenly run to the register and check out, abruptly and confidently, her rule being if you check out, you stop shopping.  good rule, doesn't work.  my giggles only supported the breaking of this rule.

at this point in the day we were quite loaded up, but still managed to make our way to my favorite ghetto dollar a yard joint.  this place has a permanent Everything Must Go sign up.  as cation pointed out, this sign is misleading, as everything is Still Very Much There.


and you never know who will be around to ring you up.  last time it was two young easygoing chicas.  this time, several older lethargic and shifty eyed gentlemen roamed the periphery, and lucky us, the one with The Plague did all the cutting!  i'm talking Stephen King Superflu.  he took this gauzy stuff and place it over my head, pronouncing eeeh, you are briiiiiide in wheezy tones.  after he cut it, he used it as a napkin to politely cover his mouth as he hacked part of a lung up.  he was in the middle of folding it when the fit occurred, it was handy, can you blame him?  suffice it to say i will be washing this in water heated to Surface Of The Sun.  whatever, at a dollar a yard i'll take my chances.  i'm not catching the plague for the sake of three bucks.

now, there's plenty i'm not showing you, as it's meant for long promised prizes to other bloggers.  it's high time i completed a few items on my to-do list.  

as we got into our cars and parted ways, we ended up behind one another the light.  i spied an antique store going out of business on the opposite corner.  i was all i could do not to lay on the horn and gesture wildly, hoping to entice my new friend into more hours spent.  but there's a fine line between "oona's awesome" and "oona's batshit crazy", and i though it best to practice a little restraint in hopes of more catioona activity.

Friday, April 20, 2012

out of focus


i didn't make this.  i spied it on a vintage shopping break with sister beast on my trip back home, and  snapped a picture thinking one of you lovely peeps could tell me HOW THE HELL THEY DID THAT.  but, lo and behold, upon download it is out of focus.

much like this week has been.  a lot of expectations with completely unexpected results.  coachella being one; though on the scale of things really just a blip... the parties were quite boring for Stunner and she only wore one of the dresses.  i had a feeling it might turn out that way; it sounded like a 48 hour long Scene, although it was hella fun to daydream.  but, then!  lots of people going out of focus, or rather maybe my view of them was always, i don't know... photoshopped.  when they snapped back into straight-out-of-camera it was a shock. revert to original, baby.  the perfect pictures i thought i had were a blurry mess.

better in the end to get those files out of the camera and see what you've really got, get rid of the poorer images, even if it's scary to forever delete, and make room on the memory card for sharpness and clarity and color.  i've done just that.  I WON.  and now the weekend lies before me like a prize.

of course a proper prize includes sewing time.  interestingly enough i've been craving more clarity in my sewing as well.  i want to make things that are as pretty on the inside as on the out.  no concealed ugliness.  

I LIKE THAT.  No.  Concealed.  Ugliness.  in sewing and in people.   

Saturday, April 14, 2012

my own little runway


early this morning, i sent my stunning leggy gorgeous friend off with ten creations to wear at a host of coachella parties this weekend.  best dressed is in the eye of the beholder, but she will certainly be the brightest thing there.

to be honest i don't know much about coachella, apparently it's like sundance for music, complete with many swank VIP pool parties and, you know, scenes.  even in my ignorance i was honored when she shyly asked if she could borrow something.  that someone wants to wear something i've made is always astounding!  because really, the pleasure is all mine-- as she emerged from my closet in dress after dress you could've knocked me over with a feather.  for one, it's surreal when another body slips something on, something i've painstakingly made to fit my body perfectly... AND IT FITS THEM.  effortlessly!  of course i know that's the point of RTW sizing, but i mean, we're not sewing RTW here.  part of the reason we sew is because off-the-rack doesn't fit our curves (as daughter fish points out, badonkadonks are varied and specific).  the hours spent getting the bubbles out that seem so particularly mine, the seam ripping and cursing... in the end i expect the dress to fit Moi And Moi Only.

but they just fell differently on Stunner Friend.  as we constantly assured each other how happy the whole dressup session made us, i told her it was like i was an artist, and seeing my clothing on her was like seeing my paintings in a museum.  it made me look at it in a new light.  a high beam spotlight.  

i'm pleased with a lot of what i make now, i think it's good enough to wear out in public and all, but seeing it on Stunner made me feel like a rockstar.


she has about ten parties to go to, and a dress for every single one if she wishes.  but i feel bad taking all of your dresses! she worried.  girl, the most i'm doing this weekend is sewing and maaaaaaybe going out to a movie. TAKE THEM, i assured her, lamenting my closet full of party dresses that never go out and no normal gear.  but that's your point of view, you have to create from that,  she declared.

it's true.  i don't like making everyday clothing.  and if i sew for pleasure, shouldn't i be making what i like?


here's where i could get behind sewing for others.  but then how do you make that jump... once the dress leaves, it doesn't come back?!  i did it once before and i pine for that dress like a bottle of chateau margot that went bad before it could be sipped.  i still think about how i might break in, knock her unconscious and steal it ask nicely for it back.  and by the way, one of Stunner's dresses is going home with her, the salvatore mad men dress (sans tie). she fell in love with it as i was draping it, her birthday was approaching, i was a little drunk, whaddayagonnado. actually, i told her i would make her something else, being far to greedy to offer it up.  but it's just perfect on her, and when she walked out in it i knew it was hers.

to have a little storefront on main street.  or a list of devoted clients that come by the studio. 

for now i'll dream about the weekend adventure my dresses are having, and sew up some more.  what are you daydreaming about?

Monday, April 9, 2012

brought to you by the letter f

the ruggian clan is in town, and yesterday we ventured out to malibu farm for their first annual feaster.  ya heard me, feaster.


it did not suck.

ooh was this pretty white table ever a hot mess after the feast.  there were great bowls of pastel m&m's and mini marshmallows for the children to decorate blue velvet cupcakes with.  they couldn't reach the bowls, so my southern gentleman gallantly offered them ivory handled serving spoonfuls of sugar, thinking they'd delicately pluck a marshmallow or two.  they immediately grabbed everything on the ladle, slammed it onto the icing, and skipped off with a red bull cocktail four year old style.  awesome.


this little piggy greeted us at the gate.  I WANT A PIG.  he was a much better welcome than the somewhat spacey gal in 5 inch stiletto booties who commanded the entry list.  a nervous bird, she was horrified that the ratio of adults to children was split 80/20.  and the ruggian contingent, consisting only of the 80 ilk, brought easter baskets to join in on the eggie festivities.  this blew her mind!  we assured her we wouldn't take eggs out of the kiddies hands (much) and hurried away.  

why would anyone want more toddlers than adults at any occasion?  truly, it's a mystery to me.  cardinal rule: you must never be outnumbered by The Children.


luckily, once past the gatekeeper, it was a completely different story.  as a jazz trio serenaded the grown ups, lovely apron clad peeps strolled around with trays full of deviled eggs (i had five), corn dogs on sticks in a bed of grass (so cute!) brussels sprout pizza (HOLY SHIT), farm fresh veggies, and bloody marys (the best i've ever guzzled).   the waitstaff got to know our group quickly and made a beeline for us with every offering.  they had our number, AND I LIKED IT.  


of course there were chickens.  some baby chickens too, and baby bunnies, all in a state of abject terror over the toddlers racing around after them with candy colored digits outstretched.   80/20, baby.  good odds for people. bad odds for tiny animals.


although arnold the pig and the two very large cow sized goats were safe, they were not afraid to grill up some carnivorous grub.  i like me a farm that likes it some MEAT.  


this was our view as we sipped on wine-- bottomless vino!  the good aproned folks had our beverage number as well, and that made me:


(we ended up leaving the basket activities to the under four set, but i stole a chicken for my hair.  it had to be done.)

happy spring, easter, passover, cocktails... whatever you may be celebrating at the moment!

Saturday, April 7, 2012

blossoms

i'm sending out some virtual flowers from our west coast garden to those that could do with more blooms back east.  perhaps you need some smiles too?  alright, you may partake in the bouquet.





hope your weekend is filled with color.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

oona in the sky with deadbeats


home again home again, jiggetty jig.  by the hair of my chinny chin chin.

on the flight home, i passed the time editing these pictures i took about a month ago, of a wearable muslin inspired by my hipster camo version of debi's traveling pattern.  though i'll tell ya, there was plenty enough to occupy me.  that was about the most ghetto flight i've ever been on.  when the seatbelt sign dinged at the end of the five and a half hour trip, people crashed out of their seats.  BANG.  like, roller derby.  i told my row mates i wouldn't be surprised if peeps started throwing punches.

my center row mate was a child.

his parents sat four rows behind us.

so 9C and i were essentially babysitters for the five and a half hour flight.

there's a reason i don't have children.


lookee there!  darts that point where they're supposed to point!

actually, the child was lovely.  a charming redheaded little boy of about nine?  maybe eleven?  i don't know, all children seem to hover around the age of two to me.  but woo-EEE, the rest of the flight was hurtling towards extinction, refusing to sit during turbulence, chasing toddlers up and down the aisle, yelling to friends in the back of the plane, opening suitcases on the floor and strewing contents in front of drink carts, lounging with bare feet propped up on the heads of the seats in front of them.  good times.  

but Charming Boy was very well behaved-- and utterly bored, as his parents had basically abandoned him with three bags of sugar and no means of entertainment.  now, yes, the airline separated their seats, so what could they do, but they didn't even try to ask one of us to switch with.  so i'm tagging them Ma 'n Pa Abandoner. JUDGED.  when i boarded the plane and realized Charming Boy was not related to the woman in 9C, i began to offer my window seat to the "anxious" mother hovering in the aisle.  she saw it coming and fended me off with an oh i just wanted to make sure he doesn't bother you okay be good SEE YA, turned her back on us and scampered off to her exit row seat beside equally unconcerned Pa Abandoner.


i made the back very low (obviously).  i had betty draper and julia bobbin's mad men challenge in mind, but alas, time got the best of me.  i think this orange dress looks so good by the water... must be why i put the turquoise invisible zip in there.

speaking of chlorinated liquids, somebody drugged the water on the plane and they gave away headsets for free, to entertainment-less Charming Boy's luck.  still,  unamused by the movie offering of hugo, he ventured to Ma 'n Pa Abandoner's row for something electronic.  victorious, he came back with a cellphone, which was on, and not in the safe way, cheerfully announcing he'd pass the time by texting.

we had a little teaching moment about airplanes and cellphones.  he was amazed.

but lo and behold!  the drinks cart came.  a diversion!  i ordered my usual ginger ale (i know, you expect more of me, but i'm not about to fork over seven bucks for a shitty glass of airplane merlot.  the kalkatroonaans got me plenty buzzed on sea breezes beforehand, thankyaverymuch).  Charming Boy ordered a sierra mist.  i was instantly and wholeheartedly enraged by his choice.  all natural ingredients!  no high fructose crack syrup!  it is now my go-to airplane drink.  

however.  still high from the wacky water, the attendants were feeling generous, and gave us all cans.  tempering this odd behavior, they did not give us the little dinky napkins that keep the cans from sliding around the tray table.  five minutes later, Charming Boy had a lapfull of soda.  flight attendants suddenly losing their power of sight (one stared right at me, strolling slowly by as i asked her three times for help), 9C took it upon herself to find towels, while i assured the tyke it was not his fault.  seeing the heavy activity and distressed faces in her son's row, Ma Abandoner craned her neck forward with just the proper soupcon of concern on her face.  i stared at her, expecting her to mouth a question to me, or possibly GET UP OUT OF HER ROW AND COME OVER TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON WITH HER YOUNG SON, but no, it was just for appearance's sake.  selective blindness was apparently contagious in economy class.  9C came back, we got him cleaned up, and used the plastic safety cards to construct a dry seat.  but doesn't the airline need that? he blinked.  they'll get new ones.  i think they can afford it, i drily retorted.


wouldja get a load of those pretty guts?  i actually lined a bodice.

the lining of the seat wore thin, and Charming Boy remained damp.  on a drying venture to the restroom, he came back with an ipad.  AN IPAD.  Ma Abandoner had it in her arsenal the entire time.  look y'all, i get it.  she saw an opportunity for five and a half hours of free babysitting and took it.  BUT GIVE THE KID THE IPAD.

he had to give it back after thirty minutes.

he was quite lucky to be in that row.  and i have to say, 9C stepped it up way more than i did.  i just didn't have the energy to entertain him, endearing as he was.  she showed him all of her stunning shots she'd just taken from amazing heights in new york (think dangling edges of skyscrapers), she being a professional photographer.  do you think she's a photographer too? Charming Boy asked, thumbing at me.  she's got TONS of pictures of herself.

i almost did a spit take, choosing instead to let them think my earphones blocked their conversation.  maybe she is, 9C answered with the perfect warm tone of your most adored teacher.  this is a very creative row!

she really was fabulous with the boy.



hells yeah it was a creative row.  i just wasn't in my normal state of bragginess.  using the original pattern as a jumping off point, i made up the bodice myself.  it's got some crazy darts in the back to keep the scoop neck in place.  and i got all fancy with this fabric, using dye for the first time.  this was the color of the horrid joann's cotton apres box of orange rit.  the fabric had been in storage for five years, i bought it when i was first teaching myself to sew.  i can't tell you what i was possibly thinking.  i don't even know what to call this mauve void of color.   at the end of the wash cycle, i called it Better.


at the end of the flight, after fisticuffs were avoided, i wished Charming Boy good luck.  i would have so liked to wait for Ma 'n Pa Abandoner to reach the aisle, so that i might give them the stink eye, but i was too excited to get back to ruggy.  

and really, their loss anyway.  he was a delight.