What Do Oxygen Deprivation, Sewing, And Bladder Control Have In Common? Me, That’s What.

“So then the lady said, ‘but you told me there would be bicycles!’. Ha ha ha. We laughed so hard!”

“Funny, Toilivia. You’re just so funny.”

“Wow, I love that green thread you’re rocking on me. Isn’t it pretty? You have such good taste, Waco.”

“Thanks, Toilivia,” I said, for the five-hundredth time.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Tim Gunn…”

“Just a sec, ” I stalled, “I have to go try to blow my nose again.”

Toilivia was turning out to be quite the talker. Ordinarily this might not have bothered me much, but my nose was swollen shut and my ear hurt and I was tired. So, so tired.

Wow. I can already tell this post is going to be ALL over the place because now I’m going to force you to travel forward in time a few hours. We’ll skip over me folding up Toilivia’s size-L pattern pieces (because that’s way too big for me to bother continuing with) and sticking them in a baggie (because I can’t fit them back in the pattern envelope) and the fact that I sewed the bottom part of the blouse wrong-side out (a trend, as it turns out) and then hung Toilivia up because I was too tired to rip her apart (“it’s no problem,” she said, “you can make me into something else! Or – hey! – let’s learn how to take in seams!”) and then just poked a hole in the baggie so I could run the hanger through it and push the entire thing to the back of my closet. We’ll skip that part, m’k?

Now we’ve cut up an entire bolt of valentine pattern Snuggle Flannel for view 2 of the 1997 nightgown. Where did I find the strength, you may ask? Well, sick as I am, the one thing that sounded comforting was a new Snuggle Flannel nightgown. And view 2 – I mean, it’s basically six seams and that’s it, amiright? And also, I gain superhuman strength when we’re talking new nightgowns. Super. Human.

We’ve already had to cut one side of the front bodice and one sleeve all over again because we forgot to cut them pattern side down. We’ve already sewn the wrong side of the front bodice to the right side of the back bodice and demanded (in a whisper) that the sewing room, in general, have sex with us.

We’ve already ripped that out only to sew the wrong sides of the garment together, and then ripped that out only to sew the side seam to the shoulder seam, then ripped that out and started over with the sewing and managed to get all the bodice seams sewn the right direction (and location). We’ve already ignored the instructions about the 7/8″ bias tape and gone straight to the satin blanket binding WHICH WORKED EVEN THOUGH I’M GOING TO LOOK LIKE A CHARACTER FROM DYNASTY, as I now see.

Now we’re on the first sleeve. The first sleeve we have ever sewn. And now we are saying WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS? WHY ARE THERE NOT ENTIRE BLOGS AND BOOKS DEVOTED TO THE SHIT THAT IS SLEEVES, AND WHO INVENTED SLEEVES ANYWAY? TERRORISTS? AND WHO CAME UP WITH THE WHOLE CONCEPT OF ‘EASING’ WHICH IS CLEARLY CODE FOR ‘IF ONE PIECE IS TOO BIG JUST JAM IT IN THERE’? Meanwhile, our chest started feeling a little tight, and then it filled up with gunk and got tighter, and that was a pity because we needed to pee more than we needed to breathe, and that can spell something I don’t like to spell out in blog posts but, somehow, am about to.

So then we took a quick potty break before heading for the asthma medicine.

Meanwhile, comic recollections started coming to mind. For one thing, the Oonaballoona (was it Oonaballona??) blog post about the poor pattern placement choice when she made shorts and it made her look like she was on her period. For another there was that phase where Paco kept having to go buy me adult pee pads because I was coughing so much I wore out my pee-control muscles — and that was funny because when we were dating I once had to ask him to buy me a “feminine product” when an accident in an expensive hotel room ruined an expensive hotel robe and I was trapped and couldn’t go get any myself – and he almost didn’t do it; but when I asked him, apologetically, to get me some adult pee pads he not only said, “Sure, Sweetie,” but called me from the grocery store to give me the run down on my options. And then that made me think about how we can never really argue like normal couples because his nostrils flare when he’s mad, and that makes me laugh uncontrollably.

And then those two memories brought back memories of all the times I started laughing uncontrollably at inappropriate moments. Which Paco tells me must go in their own blog post so I don’t force pure-at-heart sewers to read them.

Which made me also remember the last time anybody gave me sewing lessons, because it was Neta, at her house, when I was around 11, about the same age I was when she made my cigarette blow up (which will make sense if you read the other post). I bought a pattern yesterday that is as close to the one we were working on back then as I could find, because that’s how long I’ve wanted that top. And because, despite promising her I wouldn’t, I deserted that sewing lesson like I had all the ones she’d given me in the past, and she didn’t finish that one for me, just like she’d told me she would not. And that pattern has sleeves that are shaped exactly like the stupid stinking sleeves I’m trying to set tonight.

Which makes me think that maybe I quit Neta’s sewing lessons when I was 11 because I sucked at sewing, and not just because I was a quitter (though I was a quitter, I always have been). I mean JEEZUS DOES SEWING NEVER GET EASIER?

 

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