Today one of my dearest friends from school came over. We had not seen each other in ten years. We had not even talked that much or corresponded very much in that time. And yet today, she walked through the door (a darn sight THINNER), we gave each other a huge hug and then started talking. Four hours later she left.
Old friendships are a wondrous thing aren’t they? As we discussed our families and our respective ups and downs over the years it got me thinking. So much has happened to us and indeed we have probably changed quite a lot but at the same time having her sit in my kitchen using the same mannerisms and hearing her laugh just as she had all those years ago was just infinitely comforting.
She has recently bought a house relatively nearby and I am just so tickled to know we’re going to be able to see each other on a more regular basis.
Now, if I could just get K to move to Sydney …
Yesterday I had a day sans children so I took myself into Surry Hills to check out some fabric shops. As you do.
I know. What an idiot.
Tessuti’s is one of those places I could hang out in all day. The most glorious fabrics, GLORIOUS, in a shop that is both buzzing and quiet all at the same time. It’s kind of like a library but with cloth.
I sat there for over an hour looking at pattern books and then probably about the same amount of time looking at fabric. It was exciting and awful all at the same time. All I wanted was for Suse, Sooz or Muppinstuff to just magically appear and natter with me and point out what would work or what wouldn’t, to laugh and be silly about my tension headache and to just make it more fun. That or to call Eleanor and escape it all together and go eat pastries somewhere.
I was looking at it all with the intention of finding a pattern for a frock to m.a.k.e. to wear to the wedding of some wonderful friends in February. I want something simple yet a statement and that I did not spend the whole day either adjusting or not moving my arms (almost a physical impossibility) because of pit marks.
But of course, having this intention on top of actually sewing an item of clothing being an entirely new experience – because quite frankly the blue screen printed flamingos I did on a pink cotton, elastic-waisted
sack skirt we made in Year 7 doesn’t count – meant I was kind of paralysed by indecision, no working knowledge of patterns and the whole weight of the ‘it must be perfect!’ attitude I naturally bestow to any activity I am attempting for the first time.
And weird things happened to me. Like I saw this and just fell in love with it:
I mean, it’s pink and floral for God’s sake.
But it had this weight to it and a
sheen smoothness (even though it was 100% cotton) that made me incapable of not stroking it. To the point it was almost creepy.
was called parrots or some such, even though I couldn’t see parrots in it .But it was a very dark navy and the background was an off-white cream kind of colour. Again, just delightful but hello, my brain was in some sort of disassociative state from the body it was clearly going to have to cover.
I absolutely fell in love with these:
Imagine them sewn along the hem or neckline of a dress? Talk about turning a dress into a statement! I still think I might get some of this. Just to have.
I know. I don’t know who I am any more either.
This was exquisite:
And made me want to make a ballgown in some 50s sort of feel.
This was also gorgeous on a far more contemporary scale and after chatting with Sooz late – and I mean L.A.T.E last night – I think I might get some to make a little straight skirt. Well, by little I mean not flared. Because me, I’m pushing maximum density (once again) over here.
But through all of this I was so tense because while there were a few dresses I kind of liked none of them screamed ‘this is perfect!’ which, as we have established is a bit of a mantra for me.
See these linens?
I want a kicky little shift dress in every single one. Get on to that will you.
So I had a debrief with Sooz last night because I was not feeling positive about the whole experience. And she said something to me she’d already said once before but I am a bit slow when it comes to hearing the advice. I know. Half way to solving a problem is recognising you have one. Shut up already.
I realised a far better way to be approaching this is to simply be looking to make a dress. Any dress! Sure, preferably one I will wear but lets not even pin our hopes on that. And from there, let’s look at the wedding outfit possibilities. Sweet.
So, I’m going to buy me some cheap and nasty linen from
SpitSpotlight and make myself a frock. If I like making the frock I may even make another one.
Grover is basically toilet trained. I know! It was all his decision and yes, he is really quite partial to doing a wee in the garden rather than in the toilet and – apparently – the best place to do a poo is on the back verandah on the car playmat but you know, he hasn’t worn a nappy during the day for more than two weeks.
Now, normally I’d be singing the praises of this event but it has coincided with us moving him to a normal bed and him deciding to drop his day sleep.
I’ll just let that last point sit with you for a minute.
But the moving into a normal bed – we’re doing this because I’m bored of cots. There’s been a cot in this house for over a decade and I’m ready to see the back of them. Also, I was getting really sick of him just yelling at me from his cot when he wanted to get up – like some warped butler service.
I no, so dumb.
It has totally turned his sleeping routine on its head. Before when it’d take over an hour for him to go to sleep (just as it used to take Felix at that age) he’d just roll around in his cot and tell himself tall tales of adventures passed. Now he just gets up and gives me the absolute shits.
I’m so over it but going back to a cot is not worth the tantrums and tears either.
Yes people, case study of stupid woman who hasn’t learnt anything by Child #4.
And the day sleep. OH MY GOD people. I am mourning the passing of the day sleep. Sure, Felix dropped his at 18 months but Jasper spoilt me by keeping his up until about 3 1/2. Oh sure, Grover will have a sleep but it won’t happen until mid-afternoon and then he’ll happily snooze away – just to be nice and refreshed for the night time performance of killing his mother slowly by being up until 10.30.
He won’t go down for a sleep mid-morning or lunchtime so there’s no point trying. But then by 3-4pm he’s wretched – for himself and those around him.
Hello rock, let me introduce you to hard place. Let’s dance!