The oddest thing happened to me this weekend.  I was left alone.  Home alone.  For the first time since... Well, how old is Smootch?  Add a couple years to that.  A decade?  What the heck, am I really getting that old?

Anyway.  I was left alone.  So, what did I do with out my two small and one big demanding companions?

Went to roller derby practice.  Dried my gear out in the house.  Went shopping.  Bought knee socks (not for roller derby).  Went to the bookstore and b-r-o-w-s-e-d s-l-o-w-l-y.   Drank coffee without interruption.  Read books intended for children (Lemony Snicket's Unauthorized Autobiography and the first Spiderwick Chronicles book, if you are wondering).  Drank some wine.  Drew on the chalk board wall.  Cleaned up a bit and then messed it all up again.  Fed myself very well and then quite poorly.  Went to the bathroom, uninterrupted, with the door closed.  Started talking to the cats, asking them if I felt like a snack now or not?  (I did.)  Failed to go outside except to travel between buildings and my car.  Took some pictures.

I confess that I was not entirely alone all weekend, though.  I did a couple friends to have a little Black Apple doll making party.



I was a little nervous about mixing my friends, sharp objects and alcohol, but it turned out alright.


It's interesting to see that my friends not only have different styles, but they also have different approaches to crafting itself.  While one friend was terrifically intimidated by the sewing machine, the other approached it much like Tank Girl drives her tank.  

I think I enjoyed helping people make stuff almost as much as making stuff myself. 

But still, I didn't leave myself out.  Here is my Black Apple doll:


At some point during the evening, in an effort to demonstrate what can go wrong with doll making and that screwing up has significantly less than apocalyptic consequences, I brought out the first Black Doll I made way back for Birdie.

There is so many things wrong with my first dolls.  Birdie's doll in particular, Train Boy, has his arms on upside down so that he is perpetually cheering.  His legs are unpleasantly askew.  He has sutures on all his limbs just to keep them on.  His face is sharpie.

But.  Train Boy is so loved.  He sleeps in my son's stash of 'special things'.  Birdie has put his mark on him with an embroidered tattoo on his chest.  Despite all his flaws, he is valued by boy child and myself.  Which is why you should never look back when you are making things for yourself and your family.  Love doesn't care about perfection and perfect never lasts anyway.  


I also got around to making a dress for Smootch that she's been asking for forever.  It's not as elaborate as she wishes for but it has large puffy sleeves and is appropriately gloomy for Girl Child to dress up with and play out her Violet Baudelaire fantasies.

039-6 You should know that despite my prolonged break from sewing, I gathered those sleeves like nobody's business. In fact, the one on the left is probably my best sleeve ever. The right, well, it probably won't look so wonky when Girl Child is wearing it. I hope.

The next dress on Girl Child's list is something a wee bit more elaborate, some ruffles and over skirt with a bustle, but I thought I'd better ease back into sewing gently.  And give Girl Child a chance to wear the dress and see if she's going to get all weird about it being scratchy.  I noticed that Simplicity has a new line of steampunk based patterns out that I'd be interested in altering for Girl Child's size.  After I try them out for me first maybe?

Now, one last thing before Girl Child comes home to her new dress.  Must go cut up some fishnet stockings for sleeves.  Unless anyone knows where to find a fishnet shirt for a child?

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