Sunday afternoon I was standing in a checkout line and the cashier asked if I had to go to work the next day. I said, "Yeah." And AnnaBeth was scandalized, since I wasn't actually going to work that she knew of. Because, you know, mostly we just watch television and eat junk food all day.
Anyway, when I've managed to rouse myself from my leisure life this week, another skirt appeared for Thalia:
Ottobre 5/2009 #12 "Very Twirly" skirt, version B, in heavy satin. We shortened it about 8 cm. And I don't think she's planning to wear it with those socks:
By the way, the directions say to reach through the opening you left in the side seam of the lining in order to turn the whole thing inside out so you can pin the lining to the shell and sew them together to make it "bubble" -- just so you know, you really need to do it that way. If you try to just flip the pieces together, sew it up, then turn it through the opening you'll end up with a topological wonder, somewhat like a sewn version of a Klein bottle.
Also, I thought it was sort of odd that you pleat the lining. But it came out reasonably well. Even the zipper was acceptable, if you don't mind that the yoke-seam match-up slipped.
I know there's some slick little trick to getting that to match up perfectly, but I can't remember what it is. Maybe next time ... which will be in a couple of days when I start AnnaBeth's Christmas outfit.
In the meantime, it's time to mix up some more homemade rat food:
It doesn't have the tofu or blackstrap molasses at this point. Or the millet, which has disappeared from the cupboard.
Speaking of tofu, the checkout cashier for that shopping trip tried the conversational gambit of asking if I'd tried that brand of tofu before (Nasoya), since she thought it was a really good brand and really enjoyed it. I just said, "No," because I wasn't sure how she'd take it if I said, "Actually, I'm buying it as rat food."
I seem to be struggling with making small talk with clerks this week. Maybe I should pretend to talk on a cell phone while I'm checking out, and save us all the bother of trying to say coherent things to each other.