Thursday, February 26, 2015

Plans For Saturday: Get Wrapped Up Like A Mummy

I'm not sure how much this is going to cost me, though.

I am too large to fit the dress forms I can afford. Heck, even if I were fighting fit and at my doctor's preferred weight for me I probably wouldn't be able to use a conventional form, since I'm unconventionally shaped (i.e. like a real woman).

So, the solution appears to be that I make my own. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, the last time I tried it my husband got really bored half-way through the process. Who could blame him? Wrapping your spouse in paper tape is just not as much fun as it sounds. Also, this is when I realized that I really had gained a huge amount of weight and that the shape that I was carrying around in my head did not match the shape that emerged from that first round of dress-form making. I won't say I cried, but it certainly shook me up quite a bit.

That half-formed form got thrown away. It's a small house, and already cluttered, and if I wasn't going to use the thing, then it needed to go away, so away it went.

Well, my January of Project Expectations decided that sewing-for-me was going to be a priority. If that's going to be the case, then a dress form is needed. And if I can't afford a professional dress form, then a dress form must be made. I'm not going to make the poor spouse go through that again, so I'm going to have to bribe Banshees. I'm not sure my budget is up to it.


Since most of my deep dark ugly gripings are going to be confined to the 3k A Day Project - which is purely personal griping and therefore nonbloggable - I thought I would branch out to other subjects that I can talk about without annoying myself unduly.

I did not make a single New Year's Resolution. No, I waited until the end of January before realizing that I had, in fact, collected a whole bunch of projects that I wanted to get done this year. Because life is short and, if I'm lucky and remain in good health the whole time, I might have two and a half decades left. If I'm unlucky I could get hit by space debris this afternoon and the whole thing will be moot anyway. But between this afternoon and 25 years hence, there are a few things I'd like to achieve.

I want to get better at sewing, and I want to sew stuff I'm going to wear, and I want to do it this year. This does, of course, mean taking me as I am now and not some hypothetical skinnier creature I might be in the future. Of course I might be skinnier in the future, but that's then, this is now, and if I lose weight then I'll sew myself new clothes. The hazy projects I have in my head include titles like Mrs. Claus and Edwardian Librarian - heck, I think I've liked late Victorian/Edwardian costume since before I even knew there was such a thing. I want to make nice dress shirts and sturdy work shirts and pajamas and other such fripperies. I ordered patterns for a corset and a bra, because I generally start with complicated projects and work my way into simpler things. (A corset?!? I'm still wondering why I have to do things the hard way.)

I want to learn how to draw, to work with polymer clay, and I want to learn how to make fences and gates. That isn't as non-sequitur as it may sound, but I'm not sure I have the terminology to explain myself succinctly. I am a metal worker. I like metal. It behaves itself around me, or it would if I could talk to it more clearly, but I like it. I'm more natural with metal than I am with wood. Wood argues with me and wins most of the time. I want to make forged metal gates and I want to make them art - so far I'm really attracted to art nouveau stylings, the simpler flowy styles, not the stiffer and busier and rococo bits. I don't have the money for the gear and I don't have space for the works and I don't have the freedom for a learning curve, but yeah, gates and fences in forged metal appeal. They go along with my Practical Artwork leanings. More on that anon.

I want to get my room, my house, and my yard decluttered and in working order, and in just about that order. I'll never be organized, but life will be simpler if I don't have to wade through several cubic feet of detritus to get to what I want. I'll probably have more workspace too, once I've gotten through the general noise.

Oh, yeah. I have 14 containers of yarn. I want to knit through half of that by December 20-something. I don't want my heirs to have to deal with Stash Mountain.

I want to soap more and make lipbalm and write.

Late in the day and fairly late in my life I think I've discovered that I'm a latent artist. Maybe not a full fledged one, or maybe just an unskilled one that needs a lot of practice, but I like to create beautiful practical things.

This is the year I've decided to actually get better at doing them.

The Tactile Equivalent of Coffee

I have been feeling unhappy with myself lately. And if you've read my last few posts, you've probably gotten that vibe loud and clear. I have, however, a few steps to take to clear my head of the cobwebs and, dear reader, writing is one of them.

Well, the first step is realizing that one of the reasons I'm feeling lower than whale dung is that I spend far, far too much time on the computer doing nothing much. Nothing like wasting most of a day, or a week, or a month to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could be doing something better. Staring at a monitor for eight to twelve hour days is marginally worth it if you're making money doing so, but if you're only making yourself miserable - well, one does have to question one's sanity at some point. Or at least the wisdom of certain life choices.

So. Half a pot of coffee and the tactile equivalent of caffeine, which for me means writing. It gets my brain going and gives me motivation to do things other than waste my life. I have a back yard to dig up, fer goodness' sake.

But yeah, one miserable gripe. I wish my spouse would either be on my schedule, or that I could give a few damns less about whether or not I wake him up when I'm working my routines. He has an online game that he just loves, but it basically chains him to a computer for weeks at a time, not counting work time. He goes to sleep at six in the morning and sleeps until whenever, which means I can't fully access part of my workspace. It's a small house, so there is no 'extra space' to clear out to have a place of my own. That bedroom is it, and he occupies it when he wants, for as long as he wants.

Part of the problem is that we're both introverts, him more than me (I still find that astonishing, by the way), and the way he gets his alone time is when everybody is asleep. The way I get my alone time is everybody is out of my room and when the door is closed, they leave me alone unless the house is on fire or there is a copious amount of blood to be dealt with. I think I'm going to have to be more open and insistent about my need while trying to accommodate his - this may mean a more sharply defined schedule (as in: I don't mind you playing until 6 a.m., truly, but you need to be out by 1 p.m. so I can have my cave back. This means that between 1 and 6 p.m. I am not available for any reason.)

For my sanity and my productivity, we need to come to an accommodation. Either that or I build a hut in the back yard and live there.