Isn't there just something so...I don't know...perfect?...about wee bare toes peeping out from a dress, bathed in sunshine?
Yeah, soooo...my mom came home from work with a stack of CDs she pulled from a box someone had brought in that they were getting rid of. She brought home Al Martino for my dad, Grease for my sister, and Luther Vandross for me. I was all "Uhhhh, WTF? I don't listen to this. Why would you think I'd want this?" She said "Who's Luther Vandross?" I told her, and she started laughing and said "You know who I confused him with? That other guy you like...Hallelujah, and the Judy Garland concert thing...." I pretty much yelled "You mean Rufus Wainwright?" She feels this is a mistake that is easy to make. She said "OH, I saw this and said 'Bethany loves him! OH, it's a double CD set!'" It somehow made it worse that everyone she works with thinks I love Luther Vandross (nothing against him, it's just soooo not my music style).
I'm teaching my sister to sew, and learning a LOT along the way (my clothing sewing is limited to PJ pants and easy-pattern tees, with the odd skirt thrown here and there). It was the exact opposite of a surprise when my tailored, finicky sister decided that the only thing she could find right now that she wanted to sew was this Burda skirt pattern. Why wouldn't you start with pleats, darts, a fly front zipper, and concealed side pockets from a notoriously difficult pattern company? We're getting there, but we're exhausted. She doesn't know it but it's being blogged (though I'm sure deep down she already knows it).
And now I must go read. Because if I don't turn my brain in other directions I will dream about zippers and waistbands, and one's dreams should really be much more interesting, yes?