Sew Many Skirts, Sew Little Time

The summer that I was eleven years old, my aunt started sewing shorts for everyone.  She made a pair printed with tennis rackets for me because I was taking tennis lessons that summer.  I remember my younger brother wearing a pair covered in lobsters.  I imagine my Auntie Kim at her local Hancock Fabrics digging through the bargain bins in search of good deals on cotton prints.  Did she have me in mind when she bought that tennis racket pattern?  I like to think so.  

Family legend has it that her husband, my Uncle Scott, wore a pair of the infamous shorts to a Company Picnic.  I cannot contain my fits of laughter any time he tells the story.  Think about your own husband wearing a big ol' pair of bermuda shorts that you had lovingly hand sewn as he attempts to retain/garner the respect of his superiors and his coworkers at the Company Picnic.  I dare you not to laugh at the thought.

One morning my cousin, Maegan, heard her mom, Auntie Kim, on the telephone with my mother.  She recalls Auntie Kim exclaiming "No, really!  They're so easy, I can make some for everyone in your family.  It's only ten o'clock and I've already made ten pairs!"  

Heaven help me, but history seems to be repeating herself.  

I've been making skirts.   Stella doesn't want to wear pants or shorts these days, it's skirts and dresses all the time.  I didn't know what else to do, she just runs out of clean options so fast, and I refuse to spend my entire life washing laundry.  I truly detest shopping with all the kids in tow, and my online time is spent looking at blogs, not shopping around for skirts.  Sewing, on the other hand?  Well, I think sewing is fun.  After the kids go to bed and before I crash for the evening I love to get out my machine and create something. 

Yikes, I'm repeating history and turning into my mother-in-law.  Oh, well.  C'est la vie.

Don't worry, I won't be sending my husband to any work functions in these lovely little numbers.  I do wonder if Kim still has the pattern for those shorts, though.

Behold, a sampling of my creations.  Pin a gold star on your lapel if you can guess which outfit I didn't have any say in.

One Way to Host a Successful Party

A step by step guide

1.  Invite me.  I mean it.  I love parties.

2.  Invite a few other people, because I do well when I play with others.

3.  Invite everyone to bring a Few of Their Favorite Things.  Three of their favorite things, to be precise.  Three of the same thing, to clarify.

4.  Serve lots and lots of yummy food and have big glasses for my water so that I don't need to constantly refill. 

5.  Put everyone's name into a jar three times and allow everyone to draw three different names out of the jar.  Then everyone swaps their Favorite Things!

This party works because:

1.  Good food alone usually equals a good party.  

2.  You are not pressuring me to buy any scented candles or overpriced kitchen ware or obscenely tight tee shirts.  

3.  I have the opportunity to get a glimpse into other people's personalities and their Favorite Things are a great topic of conversation.

One of my Favorite Things just happens to be a Pretty Apron.  I also enjoy modeling my favorite things/having my picture taken.

I think that it's fun to wear Pretty Aprons, even if you aren't much of a cook.  It's okay to attempt to pass local take-out as home cooked to one's mother in law as long as one is wearing a Pretty Apron while doing so.  (Not that I would ever/have ever done this.)

I think this party has the potential to be a super fun Blog Swap.  Somebody else host it, though.  I just want to be invited.

I am so Posh

Today I was told that Butterflies and Owls are trendy.  My friend Christie told me so and I believe her.  She's the type to know these things.

What she doesn't know but is about to learn is that a few weeks ago as I was browsing the local Goodwill I stumbled across several treasures.  I was thrilled to find some cups and saucers in my discontinued Pfaltzgraff pattern (Acadia, just in case you were wondering.)  I also found a yellow leather handbag that had my name written all over it.

And I found this:

I brought it home with the intention of using the frame and discarding the owl.  I mean, really, who needs another Crabby Yarn Owl in their house?  This feathered friend is so cross.  He spent a few days leaning against a wall, and then he was eventually dubbed "Scott" due to his perpetual scowl.  (I have a brother Scott who is quite fond of his own perpetual scowl.  He finds smiling to be terribly overrated.)  What can I say?  The Owl and his Scowl grew on me.  Now he hangs in our dining room daring us not to finish our veggies.

Owls?  Check.

What about the butterflies?  Funny you should ask.  Behold, my mother's day gift:

Sent by my own mother to celebrate my motherhood.  It is cut crystal and is very dainty and feminine.  Not a bit dour.  Quite cheerful, in fact.  Also, apparently, trendy.  No surprise, really, because my mother has said, and I quote:  "I embrace all trends."  She has a flair for the fashionable.

Butterflies?  Check.

Now I just need to get a pair of pegged pants, I mean Skinny Jeans and a pair of jelly shoes, I mean gladiator sandals and you can start calling me Victoria Beckham.

Reality Bites

I remember when the Velveteen Rabbit asked the skin horse

"What is Real?  Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse.  "It's a thing that happens to you.  When  a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with but really loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," replied the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful.  "But when you are Real, you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up?" he asked.  "Or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once.  You Become.  It takes a long time.  That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily or who have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been rubbed off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand." . . . 

 . . . The Rabbit sighed.  He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him.  He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and his whiskers was rather sad.  He wished he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him."

I feel honored to stand as a witness to the mothers I've known along their quests to become Real.  (Hi Mom!)  (Raising my glass.)  Here's to Keepin' it Real and hoping we don't get TOO shabby along the way.

My mom and me, on her last visit to the Midwest.  I know your fingers are just itching to type about how beautiful she is, and yes, my mom really is that lovely when you meet her.

I can tell that we are gonna be friends

Chicago, meet Rosie.

Rosie, this is Chicago.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Me, in front of the car that Jackie's husband's uncle restored with his son.  We parked our car (for free!) in front of his house for the weekend.  He then, in proper Chicago native fashion, offered to drive us to and from our hotel.

After watching the Bulls win in triple overtime with da Coach on our first night, we went to a Cubs game.  I am now, officially, a fan of two losing teams: the Jazz, and the Cubs.

Candace, Jackie and me just outside of Wrigley Field.

Me, Jackie, Candace and Shannon on our way out the door to see Mary Poppins.

Jackie, Me, Candace and Shannon in our Hotel Lobby.

Goofing off in the street.

A list of memories, for my own sake:

1. Ditka's: the whole restaurant singing Neil Diamond while the Bulls won in triple overtime.

2. Cubs Game: the guys behind us shamelessly flirting with Candace in between beers and shouts of "With a Rebel Yell!"

3. Cubs Game: During the Seventh Inning Stretch, poor Denise Richards forgetting the words to "Take Me Out to the Ballgame."

3(b) Seeing my first ever Grand Slam, a la Ryan Theriot (pronounced terry-o.)

4. Candace making fun of the fact that I carry a calculator.

5. While everyone else is texting and making phone calls with their fancy 21st century technology, getting out my calculator to do some calculating.

6. Mary Poppins: the family who didn't take their crying kids out.

7. Mary Poppins: me tripping down the stairs in my yellow heels, and subsequently popping the dent out of the toe of my left shoe.

8. Ghiradelli carmel sundaes.

9. Garret's Popcorn

10. Lou Malnati's Chicago Style Pizza

11. Joy at the idea of three of my best friends enjoying each other's company and planning our next weekend away.  Hiltonhead, SC anyone?  Of course, I can make it back to Chicago, ANYTIME.  

edited to add: if you click on the link to Shannon's blog and scroll down, you can see a real time play by play of our exploits.  She has a super duper fancy iPhone.

Also, and I'm just throwin' this out there hoping for a bite, I would like an iPhone, please.  Is there any way to get one without adding the monthly bill for the service?