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Simplicity 7671 1968

I’ve had this sewing pattern for ages. It was in a box of oddments my grandma gave me shortly after I bought my sewing machine. So, it’s been in my stash since 1996. Grandma had hooked me up with some old sewing patterns, some extra fabric, a couple of how-to books, and a fantastic box of miscellaneous buttons. Some of the patterns came with a provenance. One chic little Butterick sheath dress pattern provided the guidelines for the dress Grandma wore for Uncle Frank’s highschool graduation. Another whimsical, Laura-Ashley-esque maxidress pattern had been for bridesmaid dresses my aunts wore for a friend’s wedding. This one was probably my Mom’s, but beyond that, I don’t know much.

I thought its simple a-line style with front and back seaming would adapt well for maternity use, so I cut it in some surplus fabric a friend had given me when she moved house a couple of years ago.

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This is a plain-woven cotton calico fabric with a regular, repeating Paisley “pine cone” pattern. Despite its dark-ish teal coloring, it is great fabric for a summer dress, breathable and lightweight. The cotton is perhaps a bit stiff for the design, however. The skirt bells out more than I’d like, though I expect after a few more washings, it will drape rather than flare.
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My other deviation from the original design was to integrate a back-tied sash to create a bit of bust/waist definition. The aesthetic problem with maternity garb is that your waist is utterly displaced, and if you just wear an unbroken A-line style, you run the risk of looking like a psychedelic depth buoy.

My second interpretation of this pattern took a pendulum swing in the other direction, being constructed of some incredibly drapey, nearly-sheer polyester crepe:
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This was a bit of a Goldilocks approach, for while the cotton was a bit too stiff, this crepe was a bit too floppy. It is, in essence, clingy which is not a property one usually looks for in maternity dresses.
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I am, however, particularly pleased with the contrast fabric for the facings and sash. I had about a yard of this green-teal-and-navy paisley printed rayon challis, and cut facings and sashes for two dresses from it: the one you see above and the one you’ll see below.

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Here, we have the “just right” pairing of fabric and pattern. This is a rayon challis that has a bit more body than the polyester crepe, but a great deal more drape than the cotton calico. The bold, funky “patchwork” print helps blend the seamline down the front and back of the dress, and the colors go well with the contrast fabric facing and belt.
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I am comprehensively pleased with how this dress turned out.

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I created a crappy mosaic of all three dresses so as to show the difference fabric hand can make in the execution of a design.

It’s funny – these are colors I would not normally wear, but as I put them together, I really came to like them. All three dresses are made from hand-me-down fabrics. I thought all of them were genuinely pretty. It’s not my usual thing; probably not the most flattering colors for my complexion, but all the same, sometimes it is really good to break out of your usual rut, and given my extreme addiction to earthtones, this jewel-toned flight of fancy is a welcome shake-up. Turns out there are other colors out there besides brown, olive, and rust. Who knew?!

Flat-Fold Cargo Area

My first experience with the practical potentials of the import hatchback came sometime in the mid-1980s, when a friend’s mom bought a nearlyh-new Honda Civic, not unlike the one my mother-in-law owns:

the famous DX by Meetzorp
the famous DX, a photo by Meetzorp on Flickr.

Only Mike’s mom’s car was the blueish-silver color that all the Civics that weren’t brown or murky maroon were painted. Anyway, Mike and his sister figured out (before their mom did) that you could fold down the back seat in sections, either the right-hand side or the left, to gain access to the luggage compartment at the back of the car. So, being mischievous kids, they worked out that they could flip down the left hand side of the seat, so as to be minimally visible via the rearview mirror, and then the two of them could crawl back into the cargo space and “disappear.” The next time their mother cast a “it’s quiet, toooo quiet” glance into the back seat, according to Mike, she just about had an actual cow.

I’m sure there were butt-based repercussions, because it was the 1980s, but this had to have been a thoroughly satisfying prank nonetheless.

Sunny Side Up

Did you ever not-buy something and later wish you’d bought it?

When I was about 12 or 13, I talked myself out of buying a fantastic novelty brooch, a piece of costume jewelry from the early 1950s. It was a tiny, blue enamel plate with a bacon-and-eggs breakfast executed in enamel and rhinestones (the yellow centers of the eggs were yellow rhinestones).

It was wicked cute and quirky but I talked myself out of getting it because at 13, I wasn’t exactly a wearer of brooches. Also, it was like $25, which was biiiiiig money for me at the time. Now, that I’m almost 36, I kick my junior-high self for passing up such a delightfully quirky piece of costume jewelry. It’s the sort of thing that might be a bit too giddy for a schoolgirl, but kind of badass for a grown woman.

While this isn’t quite as kitschy-fab as the original brooch I should have bought some twenty-odd years ago, it is mightily tempting and I may splurge the $2 and hot-glue it to a brooch-back.

Interacting

The baby fidgets a lot these days. I remember the first time I felt him kick, which was midway through Week 18. I wasn’t entirely sure it was a kick. It happened in the middle of the night, and I laid awake hoping he’d do it again, so I could decide it was for real. Several nights running, late, late, late – past midnight – I’d feel him kick. It was so delicate; it felt like a little grasshopper pinging around.

Now, however, his movements are distinct and sometimes dramatic. Sometimes, I can see my stomach actually stretch from one side to the other as he re-positions himself, with an accompanying strange sensation of rolling and shifting. Sometimes, I’ll see something poke up: a foot, a hand, an elbow? The other night when I was in the shower, I swear it looked like he was rubbing his head back and forth in there. I could distinctly see a head-shaped bulge traversing from side to side across, just above my belly-button (or what used to be my belly-button, as at the moment, there’s not even the shadow of a divot there. It hasn’t gone full-on “outie” but it has ceased to be an “innie” nonetheless).

A few evenings ago, I was lounging on the bed, and saw some bit of him poke up. Probably, it was a foot. It prodded a couple of times, and it occurred to me to gently tap back at it. He quickly retracted whatever extremity it was, and jabbed another out in another direction. So I tapped at that one. We went back and forth, prodding at one another for a few moments. I guess this was officially the first time I’ve played with the baby.

I’m definitely looking forward to those interactions that will come when this sprout becomes an outside baby. The first proper smile, the first giggles, finding out what makes him relax, what gets him excited, who and how he is. I’m getting really excited to meet this little fellow and get to know him.

I’ve got approximately two-and-a-half more months to wait through. From one angle, that doesn’t seem like very long at all, but from another, it seems like absolute ages. Until then, I suppose I must content myself with the occasional game of “fidget feedback.”

Well, well. The last time I posted about diapers, I was quite, quite silly.

The “doody diaper” resides in my Milk Crate Of Baby Stuff, and will, of course, be used, but so will this one:

button nappies

This was some novelty calico I bought out of the remnant basket at Bon Bon Atelier last year. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it, but I knew I would do something fun. I had just enough of this calico to cut two nappies. Beneath the printed fabric, there is a layer of waterproof nylon, then the terrycloth lining has a triple panel of terry toweling throughout the pee-zone.

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I used an old bath towel that was past its prime for the lining and the interlinings. You can get two diapers worth of linings out of one normal-sized old towel. You can get secondhand towels for very cheap at thrift shops, usually, so if you’re looking to diaper on a tight budget, that’s one good source of absorbent fabric.

Inspired by some commercially-produced fabric diapers a friend handed down to us, I made this somewhat size-adjustable via rows of buttons on the front panel. The diapers Beth sent use snaps, but I double-detest installing those press-in snaps, and perversely would rather make a half dozen buttonholes and sew on twenty buttons than fuck around with the snaps. They’re not notably fiddlier than the snaps to do up, and the multicolored buttons do look pretty cute, if I do say so myself.

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I’m making another pair with this same button printed fabric, then I cut two pair in a really pretty cobalt blue calico with white and periwinkle-blue stars on it. Those will fasten up with some pearly-grey shirt buttons, which I think will look nice with the fabric. More photos will probably follow.

This particular diaper pattern came out of an old Simplicity pattern from 1977 (the year I was born!).
Simplicity 6907
There are two other items I am making from this envelope – View 1, the bib, and View 2, the sleeper sack. However, I will not be finishing the neckline with a tie, as that is no longer done. Sometime in the last 36 years or so, Safety was invented, and I’m all about not, say, cutting off circulation to my child’s head. Call me nutty if you want, but there it is.

I have another spectacular multi-size diaper pattern that one of my Mom’s friends sent me, and I’ll be going hog wild with that one soon, too.
Kwik Sew 3690
It looks really good, the instructions are simple and straightforward, and it can be scaled all the way up to training-pants size. I will spend some quality time tracing all the sizes into Tyvek, so I can get as much use out of this one as possible. I think I will probably deviate from the original design just a bit and make these to use a removable pee-pad, because I have a handful of extra pee-pads from the stash of stuff Beth sent, plus I can make additional ones that can be “moved up” as the baby grows into the next size diaper. It’ll be a fabric savings, as I’ll only need to cut the decorative outside layer, the waterproof interlining, and the lining that sits next to the skin. The heavy-duty absorbent part will be removable for better laundering and to be re-usable in other sizes.

I’ve been jackassing around making purses lately, and this little thing, which was basically an experiment in scrap fabric, has turned out so well I’m actually pretty stoked about it.

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It’s an older Amy Butler print, and is scrap fabric leftover from a project I did for a friend four years ago.

Other scrap from the same project made up this skirt:

back

I offered it to Melissa, but it didn’t really work with the rest of her wardrobe. Plus, I suppose it would be a little bit odd to be wearing the same thing as your deck chairs!

Anyway, the purse I made was a mishmash of features from a 1975 McCall’s accessories pattern.
McCalls 4613

I’d started off to make the View D, but didn’t have enough fabric to make the long, crossbody strap, or the ruffle trim, so I cut two, shorter straps, and rounded off the ends and tied them together at the top, in the manner of View C. I actually like that length better. I prefer to hang my purse over my shoulder, then stabilize it with my elbow. I hate having a bag bonking and flapping all over the place while I’m walking.

I recalled, as I was cutting it out, that I had some funky bead-fringe trim that my Mom had given me at a point in the past, and I’d never been able to come up with a good project for it…until now. I think it’s an improvement over the as-designed ruffle trim anyway.

I also added the button to the top flap, as I like to have some sort of actual secured closure to a bag.

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The contrast lining is a kind of tie-dye lightweight cotton that I’d once used to make a bathrobe. It is actually a perfect weight for this application, and I think it rather suits the shell fabric.

On the whole, I’m mighty pleased with this funky, sort of tropical floral little bag, and it literally cost me nothing. It’s all scrap and leftovers. I could spend big money on a mumsy Vera Bradley bag, or I could spend a pleasant afternoon behind my sewing machine, and end up with something that definitely nobody else has. Which is what somebody this cheap and this cussedly eccentric is bound to do, of course.

Speaking of Vera Bradley purses, I have noticed that they’ve become quite a Thing with young girls, like teenagers. It kind of baffles me, because they totally look like diaper bags, and I’d considered their stylistics and designs to be rather matronly, but apparently, they are sought after by many Midwestern women, from ages about 14 up. I don’t entirely get it, but then again, not everyone “gets” making a purse out of a superannuated sewing pattern and scrap upholstery. Each to her floral-printed own, I reckon.

Make marmalade?

At least, that’s what I’ve done.

A while back, I bought a large sack of grapefruits because I am wild about grapefruit, plus the price was extremely tempting. Apparently, they were on knockdown price because they weren’t very good. There was something a bit off about the flavor and the texture. Most of them were sort of mooshy and those that weren’t were dry and granular.

Because I can’t abide to waste food, I thought, “well, maybe I can improve them by dredging them in sugar and running them through the dehydrator to make a sort of grapefruit candy.

Well, that wasn’t very good, either. They turned half crispy, half very-sticky. The flavor was better, but the combination of crisp and sticky was not appealing. The candied grapefruit slices sat in a Rubbermaid box for a couple of months, until today, I got the notion that perhaps they could be redeemed by incorporating them into a sort of ad hoc marmalade.

First things first, I chopped up the dried grapefruit slices in the food processor until they were about the size of bread-crumbs such as you would use for making fried chicken. Then, I squeezed the juice from four fresh grapefruits I had in the fridge and shredded the peels of two-and-a-half of them. I combined all of the dried grapefruit, the squeezed juice and pulp, and the shredded rinds into a big enamel pot, and simmered it for about 15 minutes, with five teaspoons of powdered pectin.

Then, I divided the lot of it between two pint jars, one of which also carried a teaspoon full of whole coriander seed. The stuff I cooked up today tastes like grapefruit marmalade, and it looks like it, so I shall call it grapefruit marmalade and self-declare success.

Hah! Food was not wasted

Here I am, at 26 weeks, which is nearly done with the second trimester, or for people who are not up on all the pregnancy lingo shit, around six months along.

I am now noticeably pregnant. People ask me when the baby’s due. He keeps up a fairly steady and vigorous march upon my bladder, enhancing the notorious pregnancy urinary frequency. Such a little helper!

And I’m still riding my bike to work and around town for errand running and for social reasons. I just got back from Friz, in fact. I’m not so bulbous and ungainly as yet to be unable to scoop up a frisbee off the ground from a moving bicycle. Undoubtedly, that day will come, but that day is not today.

One thing that I am realizing more and more is how much more effort pregnant bicycling is. Even though at this point I am maybe carrying 15lb more than I started with, it’s what going on within the bump that’s making the difference. I know I’m riding a lot slower these days. It’s like serious work to go above 15mph on a smooth, level street. 15mph used to be my basic, going-just-about-anywhere speed. Because of this, I’ve had to re-calibrate my time-to-leave/time-to-arrive schedule in order that I will show up to places at the time I said I would. Besides going a lot slower, it just feels like more work, full stop. The 10-ish mile ride out to my mother-in-law’s house feels like a fairly sufficient workout. Hills and headwinds which used to be a bit of a challenge now feel like a personal affront. A 20-miler feels positively epic. Considering that in the past I’ve ridden down centuries without any drama, have ridden out to the trails and gone mountain biking after a full day’s work, and carried my share of the gear and food on a coast-to-coast cycling adventure, my currently-reduced state feels shocking and a bit disheartening.

I know that I’m currently hosting another person within myself, and that he’s requiring quite a bit of energy himself, in order to grow and form proper organs and get hair and all that stuff. I know that after he’s born things will slowly get back to normal. I’ll regain the strength and vigor I’m accustomed to, but at the moment, I feel sluggish, cumbersome, and often uncomfortable. Sure, I know it’s for a good cause, and I know it will pass, but right now it is kind of annoying.

I expect I’ll be riding for basic transportation for some while yet. So far, my doctor hasn’t given me any grief about cycling and so far neither has my body, other than enforcing slowness and somewhat limiting my range. I’ve had no cramps, backaches, or undue numbness, nor any other unaccounted pains, so I reckon I’ll carry on. Because the expansion of pregnancy is a gradual thing, I’ve adapted to my changing center of gravity pretty well, and don’t notice any especial difference in balance while riding. I wouldn’t want to test my handling on the mountain biking trails, but I can still Friz, which would indicate that I’ve adjusted pretty successfully so far.

What next, really?

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For the love of all things great and small.

Seriously, I left the house in two different shoes today, and then had to work a shift at the grocery store this way. The lower-cut penny loafer was less comfortable than the one with the button trim. They are less broken-in.

Lesson. Learned.

Yesterday, for an entire day, I wore my trousers backwards. As in Ass-to-the-Front.

Unintentionally.

I am not now, nor have I ever been a member of Chris-Kross. I just, apparently, have forgotten how to put my clothes on.

Seriously, I go pee like 47 times a day, and I never noticed my britches were on wrong-way-round. I finally figured it out when I was getting undressed before going to bed.

Guess who felt like a numpty?

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