Tightening the Elastic Waistband Til It’s Curtains

I’m not afraid of much.  Shots don’t scare me.  I can get major surgery with my eyes closed.  I’m brave enough to swat and kill any spider any size anytime with my bare hands.  Yeah, I’m pretty much bad to the bone.

Except when it comes to sewing.  When it comes to sewing,  I wouldn’t even qualify as skin-deep bad, I’m just plain ol’ bad.

But I want to sew!

If I could sew, I would make beautiful items for my home.  I’d become a fashion designer and go on Project Runway.  I would have more self-esteem and confidence as a person, in general — not to mention a killer wardrobe where everything I made would make me appear 15 pounds thinner, 20 years younger and upwards of  50  I. Q. points smarter.

It’s not like I haven’t tried!

Once, when my youngest daughter was in the 3rd grade she had a friend over.  I was sewing myself a pair of pants.  I had just finished sewing in the elastic waistband and was feeling rather proud of myself when my daughter’s friend looked over from across the room and asked,

“Why are you sewing an elastic waistband in the leg of those pants?”

I quickly pulled the pants out from under the needle, held them up and sure enough the little brat was right.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a complete idiot just an unfinished one.

I suspect my sewing problem stems from my inability to be able to tell right from left.  I can tell right from left, of course, — just not consistently.

And being able to distinguish right from left on a regular basis seems to be important in sewing.

Frankly, I don’t understand people who can tell right from left easily.  People like that have a tendency to complicate matters just to confuse you.  37, my engineer-husband takes great delight in vexing me:

Can you hand me my pocket protector? It’s in the right-hand, top-desk drawer.

No it’s not in here.

Yes it is.

No it’s not.

It’s on the RIGHT side of the desk, not the LEFT.  The RIGHT.

Well, that’s the one I’m looking in — the RIGHT and it’s NOT in here.

No, you don’t understand.  It’s on MY right, which is YOUR left.

Or  let’s say 37  is giving me directions over the phone:

What side of the street is their house on?

Well that depends.  Are you going east or west?

East or west?  How would I know? Just tell me what side of the street it’s on!

It’s on the RIGHT side of the street.

Ok, great, thanks.

If . . . .

If what?

If you’re heading east, that is.

I don’t know what direction I’m heading.

Well that’s easy to tell.  If your going East, the shopping center will be on your left.

It’s not on my left.

Not YOUR left MY left.

It’s times like this when I want to get out my sewing machine and sew an elastic waistband into 37’s shirt collar.  Then slowly tighten it to MY left HIS right MY East and HIS West.

You’ll have to excuse me now, I have some sewing to do.

Until next time . . . I love you

I Was a Cow in Chuck’s Head

“I was a cow in Chuck’s head,” is the line my brain, Peanuts, delivered to me this morning just as I was waking up.  Of course, there was no story attached to it.  It was simply a  tagline drifting around the tar and driftwood that masquerades as my subconscious mind.

I stayed in bed with my eyes shut pretending to be asleep for the longest time so that Peanuts would dictate the rest of the story to me but I think Peanuts needs to take a writing class or something because there was nothing more forthcoming.

So it looks like once again, Dear Reader, it seems Peanuts has left me holding the bag when it comes to thinking up some sort of scenarios for this title so here goes:

“I Was a Cow in Chuck’s Head.” The Modern Romance Story

Betty Matilda McFlirp stuck her head out of the plastic enclosure of the bus stop in the pouring rain imploring the bus to come quickly with every fiber of her being from her imploring, bovine brown eyes to her bus-magnet heart.  For if it didn’t come soon, her hair was going to frizz up something awful causing her to look more like a sheep than a cow — which was bound to change her relationship with Chuck profoundly.

“I Was a Cow in Chuck’s Head.” The Science Fiction Story

Chuck, an alien from the planet Chucktilian located three-hundred light years to the left of  the constellation Armadillo, just happened to land his  alien craft at the bus stop at which it just so happened Betty Matilda McFlirp was sticking her head out of at the time.  Their eyes met and it was love at first, second and third sight, what with Chuck having the three eyes and all.  Chuck’s mission was clear, he had to take Betty Matilda McFlirp back to planet Chucktilian or his passion for her would drive him mad.  A plan was quickly formed in which Chuck would first turn Betty into a cow and then convert her atoms into a thought form and store her in his head for the return trip. Betty agreed to this crazy scheme but only if she could obtain all rights to any future story or movie that might (or might no)t be forthcoming.

“I Was a Cow in Chuck’s Head.” The Pre-twentieth Century British Romance

Sir Chuck ChipsandSalsa, the Earl of Douchebaggary partitioned his father, The Lord of Noteggsandhamagain if he mighten marry his childhood sweetheart, Bessie and pointed into the pasture where Bessie was busy chewing and digesting her cud in that adorable way she had.  As luck would have it, Lady Betty Matilda McFlirp just happened to be sticking her head out from beneath the thatched roof of the Carriage Stop by which Bessie was standing.   Thinking that Sir Chuck was pointing to Betty, the Lord of Noteggsandhamagain was highly impressed and gave his permission that Sir Chuck and Lady Betty Matilda McFlirp would be married as soon as may be.  Years later, the couple would regale the king every chance they  got to tell the story of the mix up involving their marriage which the king thought uproariously funny right up to the very second he cut off their heads.

So there you have it dear reader.  I’m afraid these scenarios will have to suffice until I get another message from Peanuts while I’m alseep . . . if you need me, you’ll know where to find me.

Until next time . . . I love you

You Sew and Sew!

Ok, if you ever inadvertently get stuck in somebody’s time machine  and there’s an earthquake and you accidentally fall on the “time lever” and jam it on 1974, and you’re  good at following sewing instructions, this is the book for you!

That’s because this Better Homes and Gardens 1974 edition of Sewing for Your Home will teach you how to decorate every single room in your house utilizing nothing more than a bolt of cotton, a spool of thread and a burning desire to be the bobbin.

So let’s open some pages, shall we?

First Up:

Merciful Heaven! Avert your eyes! It's the PACIFIC OCEAN!

As you can see, this room’s hideous view of the  Pacific Ocean —  that normally would be a depressing nightmare — has been cleverly camouflaged (thank gaud) by an outpouring of colors so cheerfully conceived, so brilliantly sewn, so hyperactively vibrant, that it’s sure to leave a permanent mark on your sense of style as well as on your actual retinas themselves.

Check this out:

Checkered shades? Check! Checkered chairs? Check! Checkered rug? Check! Did you check the checkers to make sure they are still checking? Check!

Talk about a  “Conversation Area” that will really give you something to babble incoherently about!

Forget about waterboarding, if the CIA would just sew up a cozy conversation corner such as this one to detain detainees while they are waiting to be detained, they’d be spilling the beans in about five minutes flat.  Three if they opened up the shades and revealed The Hideous View of the Pacific Ocean.

What about:

"Look Honey! I sewed it myself after chugging just one cup full of LSD!"

In my humble opinion, this room deserves the Nobel Prize for  successfully expressing, through the magic of  home sewing symbolism (and possibly hallucinogens), every single event that has ever occurred in the history of mankind right up to last Thursday while — at the same time — keeping the Hideous View of the  Pacific Ocean well hidden from esthetically sensitive eyeballs of the esthetically sensitive.

It’s a bathroom, right?

Finally a room without The Hideous View of the Pacific Ocean!

Everything in this handsomely appointed bathroom  — from the tank cozy right down to the hand-stitched toilet paper– was obviously lovingly sewn by a home sewer sewer-system sewer. 

Unfortunately, no mention is made about how to  protect yourself from the flotilla of pathogens multiplying at an alarming rate in the luxurious Shag Carpeting.  Quickly!  Turn to page 208 and see if there’s instruction on how to sew a your own Hazmat Suit.  Hurry! I feel sick!

So there you have it dear reader.  And what did we learn today?  That’s right!  Never be inside a time machine during an earthquake.

Until next time . . . I love you

New Post Suckcess at Last!

I’ve been trying to think of a topic to post about but something happened to my brain, Peanuts.  All my thoughts seemed to have settled to the bottom of my brain leaving me officially devoid of thought.

And take it from me, there’s nothing more boring than having one’s brain as empty as a keg of lager at a 5 a.m. frat party.

Not that Peanuts is an expert on frat parties.  Peanuts only knows what Peanuts has managed to observe through the stained-glass window of the  church rectory, but you get my point, I’m feeling dull, uninspired and  totally bored with myself.

Which is so weird because I normally lead such a madcap, whirling dervish existence!

Usually, I never know WHAT I’m going to do next!

For instance, sometimes I’ll go to the  grocery store to buy a tub of tapioca pudding and then, for no apparent reason, I’ll suddenly go flat-out wackadoodle, and say “Screw that!”

Next thing you know, I’m pulling into a Reserved for Frozen Yogurt Customer’s Only parking space!

And god only knows WHAT KIND OF TOPPING I’M GOING TO CHOOSE!

Sometimes, when I pick up that scoop for the chocolate sprinkles, I’ll suddenly decide “Sprinkles be hanged!”

And then, I’ll haphazardly as all get out set down that chocolate sprinkles scoop  and I’ll reach, instead, for the scoop in the container labeled Mochi!  That’s right.  You read that correctly: MOCHI!

It’s from Japan.  It means “sticky rice cake” in Japanese.  So putting mochi on my yogurt in the United States of America is — by my calculations — equivalent to the excitement of  eating a  big huge bowl of sticky rice at a sidewalk cafe in downtown Tokyo while wearing nothing but a  sleeveless cotton top and a pair of lightweight capris in the midst of a  chilly breeze that kicks up during the pregnant pause just seconds before Godzilla snatches me up and eats me on his way to the local university to eat an entire frat party.

"Mmm . . . . frat party!"

So you see that’s the kind of madcap whirling dervishness that normally makes my blog bubble with excitement.

So until Peanuts gets back online, I’m going to have to resign myself to the fact that the act of posting may produce somewhat mixed results.  Oh I’ll succeed alright, but I may have to add a “k” in there somewhere.

Until next time . . . I love you

Slightly Obscure Wordpress Blog Award Categories I Would Like to See Circulating the Blogosphere!

The weekend is almost upon us which means it’s Friday!  I would like to celebrate the arrival of our weekend by taking the lazy route and  re-running this post about a few blog award categories I would love to see circulating here on our beloved WordPress Blogosphere.  And so may I present:

Slightly Obscure WordPress Blog Award Categories I Would Like to See Circulating the Blogosphere!

Best Typed by One Finger Blog

Best Typed While Pretending to Look Busy at Work Blog

Best Typed by Head Falling on Keyboard After Too Many Whiskey Sours Blog

Best Typed by Elbows While Posing for Photo with Chin in Hands Blog

Best Typed by Falling Teardrops Blog

Best Typed by Oakridge Boy’s Beard Blog

Best Typed by Debris from Collapsed Ceiling Blog

Best Typed by Hoof of Steer Landing on Keyboard During Tornado Blog

Best Typed by Glacier Scraping Over Keyboard During Last Ice Age Blog

Best Typed by Cat Burglar While Shoving Keyboard into Bag Blog

Best Typed by Jaw Dropping onto Keyboard During Jaw-dropping Revelation Blog

Best Typed by Cat Walking Across Keyboard to Bat at Feather and Bell Tied to End of  String Attached to End of Long Stick Blog

Best Typed by Spewing  Coffee Over Keyboard While Reading The Day the Dopes Came Over by Steve Martin Blog

Best Typed by 100-Year-Old Man Grabbing onto Keyboard to Help Break Fall Blog

Best Typed While Wearing Keyboard as Hat for Computer Man Halloween Costume Blog

Best Typed by Making Panicky Typing Motions on Keyboard After Accidentally Setting Hair on Fire Blog

And there you have it, Dear Readers!  Have a wonderful weekend!

Until next time . . . I love you!

Top Ten Product Ideas for Aging Baby Boomers

The Suspicious-Looking-Mole Home Removal Kit

The Graveside Banana Peel Treadmill

My Last Barbie

The All-in-One Hair Removal  and Transplant Wand.

Grow Your Own Organs Chia Pet

The Shout Channel

Scrabble Sorry It’s Taking Me So Long Edition

The Quadruple By-Pass Carnival Cruise

What Was I Talking About? Rosetta Stone

And the number one product sure to be a hit with the aging Baby Boomer:

The Chase Sapphire I Woke Up This Morning Points Rewards Card