Friday, March 28, 2014

In Which I Almost Admit I Have A Problem, But Decide I Don't Have To

My company is having a clothing and textile drive for a local organization that teaches "women in need" to sew and work retail--they sell the usable clothing and make stuff to sell from the rest. The organizer assured me they would take anything (FOOLS! I'll show them ALL!). I said "AHA! I can move out all those apparel fabric remnants and assorted used home furnishings I've been collecting for 15 years because I could make something from them some day and I'm starting to think it's never going to be someday!"

Do I even have to type the rest? I started opening boxes I haven't opened for at least three years, and immediately went "Oooh! This is awesome! And you can't buy fabric like this anymore! I could totally (if I bought some stabilizer and some different thread and took a week off work) make something from this! And this is real matelassé from that church rummage the year I taught that textile lab, I may never be able find affordable real matelassé again! I love this color, and it will never come back into fashion again..."

(I also have an ugly shirt I bought at a mall last summer because it was real swiss dot, with the dots woven in instead of glued on. Yup. It was $7; you couldn't buy a yard of real swiss dot for that in 1999....)

So my new goal is to move out at least half of it, and when the rest is still here unused when next year's clothing and textile drive rolls around, re-evaluate. The matelassé may persist, but the knit velveteen is already gone so I'm declaring victory.

Sunday, March 9, 2014



I hate spring.

Made the year's first trip to the zoo today; the butterflies don't officially go on display until next week but there were a couple of early emergers out in the conservatory. The polar bear was offline, but the rhinos were little more active than usual.

Saturday, March 1, 2014


File photo of Satan's Little Helper drinking my coffee, as he's trying to do right now:

Breakfast at Radish's

He used to wait until it seemed I had finished before he would stick his face and paws in the mug, now I cannot leave my coffee unguarded...not even C2H6O-enhanced dessert decafs. At first I thought he just wanted the cream, but he ignored cream poured into his dish. And then he ignored coffee poured into his dish--it's gotta be in a mug. My mug. Of course.