Since I want to wear this dress on Saturday I figured I should get working on it!
So I found my motivation in the bottom of a PBR and got to work. I’m just going to say, the stars were against me. Pickles bit me while I was trying to shift his fatness to read the directions, Rusty and Oz thought they would lay directly where my feet go when I need to iron, and Skwisgaar thought it would be best to just menace all of us from random places in the room. As if it wasn’t hard enough to convince myself to be productive, I had to constantly run the fur critter gauntlet. Jerks.
Also, I came to the realization that I need to get new pins since they are all dull enough that the force required to push them through fabric also means that they will go pretty far into a human finger as well. WARNING: Graphic human wound ahead.
Bleed in the seams and NOT THE BEER!
Charlie mike. More sewing and pinning and stabbing and I had what is usually a sure sign that its time to stop for the night: my first grievous mistake.
Right sides together, dumbass.
When I make a stupid mistake like that, I take it as the universe’s sign that I need to stop. But I always make sure to correct the mistake before stopping so its not the first demoralizing thing that I have to deal with the next time I get to it. Nothing says, “Fuck it” like sitting down to sew only to stare in the face of the last idiot move you made and then have to fix it before you can do anything else. I’ve learned. So I trooper-ed on. I cursed. I seam-ripped. I repinned and sewed it correctly.
Not wrong.
Now I’m not going to say that it happened because I had beer for dinner while I was sewing, but I’m not willing to say that it wasn’t the beers fault either.
Sarie Cherries 