Who was it said, “Life is like a quilt -“?

February 11, 2008

 Actually, I think it was probably me.

I have not been living well these days—even aside from the fact that I never really eat the way I should.  Or exercise the way I should. Or go to bed when I should.  Lately, I have been even worse at all of that and more.

 The staples of my day are pretty much still in place: get up, stumble downstairs, drive out to the horses, do the treadmill for 40 minutes.  Which all sounds commendable, right?  And, it is—as long as breakfast doesn’t happen till after noon because I didn’t fall asleep until 4 a.m. first waiting up for Murphy, then fretting about life, and then tried to make up for it by sleeping later than any responsible adult should.  (Isn’t it sad that you can’t just say “adult” and trust the word to convey “responsibility” all on its own?)

 And as long as the day doesn’t go downhill from there.

 I’m not sure that being actively creative and working on family history could actually be termed “going downhill.”  But I suspect that spending eight hours planted in front of my desktop computer, playing with Photoshop and practically living on Orbit sweet mint gum is not exactly the gateway to health and size four jeans.

 Because that’s what I’ve been doing—four weeks, no – maybe six weeks, finally, finally, finally working to check off one of those permanent line items on my “to do” list: photo books.

Ironically bad shot of several books plus aging Valentine’s roses 

Digression:

This little entry wants so badly to play out to its organic ends, which I promise I will allow it to do in later installments (iphoto books vs. Blurb, for instance), but I have to interrupt my photo-tome to talk about the other things that have lately been the fabric of our lives – namely: fabric.  And teeth, the removal of.  This interruption brought to you by February 20^th and another late waiting up for the M – whose afore mentioned teeth were the ones dragged into the light.

 Oh, and Em’s bracelet.  I’ve had that on the to-do list, too.   This is my yard-raking little beauty across the street.  I had these wonderful tiny red heart beads (I love beads.  I would have sold California for a pound of good lampwork) and I wanted to make something out of them.  So I went to the craftstore and found – cute, cute (sorry guys) silvery chain and little heart closers.  So I decided to make somebody a Valentine’s bracelet, and the only person I knew who would wear such a thing was Em.  So I took silvery wire and spent a few hours bending spirals and reinforcing jump rings, and it pleased me very much, and I think it pleased her, too.  Check off: use beads, do a good deed, put the heart beads to work, make something for Valentine’s day.  Add: encourage children to have at least one female offspring.

 M’s Teeth: 

Seems you cannot go on a mission with extra teeth.  Maybe those wisdom dents are actually the opposite of what they are called; maybe they weaken your spiritual powers (just kidding).

Phone self portrait.  M without retainer-and-teeth, definitely under the influence –  

Phone self portrait #2: recovery.  Anesthesia out of the system, leaving goofiness behind.  Also, my new couch.

Phone self portrait #3:  Swelled head.  Jaw, I mean. 

And yet they still come to see him.  And good ones, too, as you can see – 

Anyway, here is  a picture of the M, drugged and happy in the surgeon’s chair.  This darn dental meister wouldn’t allow me to stay in the operatory during the procedure, evidently afraid that I might just get giddy and put yet another head-sized hole in his wall (seems that’s happened before).  I tried to tell him that I’ve assisted on this kind of surgery before, which is true, and that I’ve witnessed horse castrations without a flutter, which is also true.  He said, “It’s different when it’s your own kid.”  And I can see that witnessing the castration of one of my kids might, indeed, upset me.

 We made up for my banishment by spending the next three days in a Lord of the Rings marathon (G. included – which is odd, considering the disregard in which he generally holds TV, and especially TV during daylight hours).  This little mental vacation, however, was somewhat complicated by The Dress.

   Story of The Dress:

My d-i-l, the lovely Mz. L, hard as she has fought it, is finally showing her pregnancy.  She has been doing everything in the world to avoid having to wear stodgy, expandable clothes.  But there is a point when every healthy sized woman (over size 1) loses the fight, and L has come to that sad pass.  What’s worse, the one formal event of her year was coming up – a night on which she and C traditionally become the Cutest Couple Ever, and L is the a princess.  Feeling more barge than beauty, she went searching for a formal gown that would make her lovely – and had no luck at all.

 Springs to the rescue, s-i-l, the costumer, who jumped on line and searched out the One Good Pregnant Pattern on the Planet.  “I’ll make it for you!” she announced.  Which really meant that we would make it, considering that she is a working minion and we only had half a week in which to work this miracle.  So the costumer and I set off to the fabric store – two fabric stores in the end – and had a great time sorting through prospective fabrics, ribbons, closures, trims, and threads.  We bought twice as much fabric as we meant to, which is what you end up with when you can’t decide which fabric to use as the sweeping skirt, and so decide to use both, one over-laying the other.

 Black slightly stretchy crepe—very nice to sew on.  Wonderful weird gold and black stretchy – something – also surprisingly easy to sew with.  Then the cutting and the thinking and pinning and fudging (and the going to buy more because we didn’t have enough), the flurry of sewing and fitting – and at every turn, a new design idea.  While Frodo was finding his way through Mordor, I hand stitched the sleeve hems.  Just like that scene in Disney’s Cinderella, we were the birds, draping ribbons, and the mice, tacking on the extra trims (did the mice do that?).  And L had to get down from her fitting stool at least twice, due to slight pregnant lady vertigo.

The costumer at work.  Remember that story about the shoemaker’s elves who had no clothes for themselves?  Good thing I am behind the camera. 

Costumer sewing: sew like the wind, costumer!!!! 

Pre-vertigo L, already lovely; about to be lovelier. 

In the middle of the fitting.  See the crepe?  See the gold overskirt? See the ribbon?  See the wonderful girl who I love, being fitted by another girl I love? 

We finished the dress before Middle-Earth had been freed of the Ring and about fifteen minutes before L had to leave for the Event.  But the dress was a smashing success, and made L feel as lovely as she actually is.  Or so she kindly tells us.  All joy.

Princess with closed eyes. 

Princess with dog.  

Princess with costumer and dogs. Costumer’s assistant behind camera.  Staff about to collapse on the floor in rags.

So it was kind of a weird weekend.  The best part of this for me was that suddenly, all of us were hanging around the same room for three days, working together, watching together, fetching meds and ice cream for M together.  I am pretty greedy for these moments, and more than willing to a handle what it costs me to own them.

Finale:  The COSTUMER AT HOME.  And in Dang Good Shape. 

Too many pictures, huh?