Since I obviously have loads of time on my hands, I've signed up for the Elsie Marley Kids Clothes Week Challenge, which runs October 10-17. Stalwarts among you may remember that I attempted said challenge way back in May, 2010, and all I managed to finish was a skirt for Miss B. But I was very pregnant then, and it is a well-loved and oft-worn skirt, so I consider that a success. This time, I'm hoping to be a bit better organized, possibly even cutting some pieces ahead of time. The terms of the challenge are that you spend one hour - a mere hour - a day working on kids' clothes. You can sew, knit, crochet, stencil, applique, whatever, and of course you don't have to limit yourself to an hour if you're totally on fire.
This is really an incentive to get my sewing room cleaned up (it is currently housing, in a post-performance-art-piece style scattering, the contents of my bathroom cabinets, as the bathroom is mid-reno and nobody has felt like picking all the bottles and tubes and rolls and packages up off the floor). Kind of like inviting people for dinner so you can make yourself clean your house. I know I'm not the only person who does that.
There are a few projects I need a boot in the arse to tackle, chief among them being:
- finishing a skirt I started ages ago for Miss B,
- a dance bag, also for Miss B (not strictly clothes, but I think it still counts), and
- fall hats for the boys.
There are a hundred thousand other things I could do, too, but there's no sense setting my (or your) expectations too high, now, is there?
The aforementioned bathroom renovations have been all manner of ridiculousness, but it's going to be a huge improvement. We have one bathroom for the five of us, and it is tiny. Like, storage-room tiny. Not small in the suburban sense, small in the house-that-predates-plumbing sense. Some previous owners had furnished it with an enormous cabinet around the sink, and the toilet was functional but gargantuan. Now we have a sleek pedestal sink and a water-saving, apartment-sized toilet. Lovely. There was also a set of cabinets above the sink and toilet that gave the illusion of storage, but which was in fact both inaccessible (I had to stand on the toilet to reach them, and even then could not reach the farthest section) and impractical (who puts 7 1/2-inch-high shelves in a bathroom?). They're gone now, to be replaced with a shelf and baskets, or some such system. The floor was covered in this mildewing, cracked, awful tile which Hubby C ripped out and which we planned to replace with some very tasteful but still easily cleaned vinyl (I have it on good authority that boys take some time to learn proper aim... suddenly, vinyl seems like a godsend). However, while the workmen were here tearing and replacing, it became evident that putting down flooring before installing the sink and toilet would make much more sense than the alternative, and Hubby C had about an hour to grab something. Everything on offer was truly hideous, so Hubby C went for the closest he could find to "inoffensive," with the intention of painting it later. I admire that man's confidence that we can pretty-up any old crap vinyl flooring. And so I will be taping and dabbing my heart out as I wrangle a floor of fake-looking stone-print vinyl into a tasteful checkerboard arrangement of grey and white squares. I am actually rawther excited about this. It's a very small floor, so I don't mind in the least the prospect of taping off three-inch squares.
Oh, and we dodged a hurricane. The weather guy got us all freaked out, but then in the end it was no big deal. Miss B got the afternoon off school yesterday, though, and I had to separate my cabin-feverish kids from one another lest they do each other injury, but everybody had popcorn and I baked a peach upside-down cake. It's still blowing a gale out there, and I imagine there are some pretty impressive waves for those closer to the water, but I'm content to stay home and hope the diapers don't fly off the line.
Oh, oh, oh, and I have just discovered The Gaytheist Gospel Hour, which I am reading as though it were a novel. It's. So. Good. I wish it were a paperback so I could put it in my pocket and take it everywhere with me. I laugh, I cry, I want to call people and read sections aloud to them. You will be enriched for having read even one entry, I assure you.