S is for Science.

The California Academy of Sciences +21 evening.  Half-price tickets, alcoholic beverages, DJs, and hundreds of twenty and thirty-something “singles looking to mingle.”  Was it science, or simply chemistry?
Full access to the rain forest, the aquarium and the Extreme Mammals exhibit.  A Capoeira show.  All the cool and dorky science fun, minus the kids.  Only, this was really just a bunch of grown kids in a giant adult-sized playground.  Grown women shrieking as they ran to the children’s eel cove.  Some guy shouting things at the sharks.  A museum dude showing a special exhibit of baculum, or penis bones (he was particularly proud of the one belonging to the walrus, which the Eskimos use as a club to hunt.  “It’s really heavy!” he exclaimed!)  It was surreal.
Up with the Extreme Mammals, I learned what it takes to fit into this category, and quite frankly, I felt like a mediocre mammal. I have no large tusks, no enormous antlers or a crazy-long tail! But I was particularly taken with the AMAZING ADJECTIVES they included in all of the descriptions.  Someone was having fun with their thesaurus!  Things like “the biggest brain ever!” and “massive metatarsals” and “unbelievable arm strength” and “the most mind-blowing creatures to ever walk the earth.”  Props to the crafty wordsmith who wrote the clever catch phrases.  My friend Susannah would have been in heaven at the marsupial display, where it explained the “awesome pouch births” with the title, “Hang in there, kids!”  Oh, bless them, trying to make science fun!
Down in the aquarium, it was a pretty dreamy scene.  The lights were low, the house music was turned up, and the cocktails were flowing.  I half expected to find a couple making out near the nautilus tanks.  But alas, it all seemed fairly PG-13, and I managed to get some great shots of the underwater party animals.  My last image was seeing a group of friends plopped down in front of the Phillipine Coral Reef, staring up at the scene, mesmerized while the DJ played Men at Work’s Down Under to close out the night.
Outside in the foggy night, groups of excited mammals were saying their awkward goodbyes, perhaps exchanging phone numbers, perhaps wondering how the hell to get home from the middle of Golden Gate Park. All in all, the evening was very amusing.  A very entertaining way to witness science in action.

R is for Reading.

After the Patchwork Quilt fiasco, I was having trouble looking at the sewing machine.  And the hangover was pretty rough, so I had to come up with an activity that involved sitting still.
One of my favorite sitting-still summertime activities has been to listen to the radio program Forum with Michael Krasny for it’s entire two hour broadcast every morning, while working or doing things around the house (read: checking Facebook).  It’s really hit-or-miss, but one highlight was hearing David Mitchell (author of Cloud Atlas) talk about his new book, and then later that evening going with Chris to hear him read in Cut Wood, CA (Corte Madera).  He is an amazing writer! I haven’t read any of his books yet, but I just know!
Another highlight was the program on Mystery writers.  There were three guests (Cara Black, Jacqueline Winspear and a guy whose name I can’t remember), all mystery writers, and they were invited to discuss their books and the genre in general.  I have never really been a huge mystery reader, but something about them really grabbed my attention.  I really do want to attempt to tackle Cloud Atlas again, but these mystery books just seemed (how do I say it without offending anyone) more accessible.
So, since then I have started reading Murder in Belleville, part of Cara Black’s series that takes place in Paris.  Since, as some of you know, I have taken 16 weeks of French this year and am now not only a fluent French speaker but an expert on France in general, I liked the idea of reading about something familiar.  The main character is Aimée Leduc (whose mother was American, and in flashbacks featuring conversations with her, she refers to herself as Amy.)  The experience has been enjoyable, and I’m admittedly addicted to the plot.  And, once I find out who killed the poor woman in Belleville, I have the added satisfaction that there are 10 more books waiting for me in the series.  Since I’m currently 564th on the wait list for The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, it’s pretty likely that I’ll be spending some more quality time with Aimée.

Mind your Ps and Qs!

I had to wait a full 24 hours before I could find my Ps and Qs to write about this project.  I had to go out and consume some Pints and Quarts to forget about this project.  Me and this project are still not on speaking terms.  This project is such a huge b-word that she takes up two entire letters.  She and I got into a full-on physical battle, and I have to aches and bruises to prove it.  And this morning, when I could barely stand up because I felt like I had done 4,209 squats, I was definitely not “minding my language,” as the expression goes.
This project, I can only imagine, is the equivalent of what a parent must feel towards their child.  A very big commitment, yes, rewarding, sure, mostly a giant pain in the ass, most definitely.  At the moment, the quilt is acting like the bratty teenager who causes irreparable emotional damage without showing any real remorse.  And, if it’s one thing I’ve learned about teenagers, its that it takes a really special one to step up and mend fences.  Therefore, I think I will have to be the one to bite the bullet and make peace.  Sigh.
Patchwork Quilt.  Ugh.  The words still make my upper back/ neck area tense up.  It started out as a fun project.  40% off on materials at the Fabric Outlet on Mission, another awesome Denyse Schmidt pattern, the ambitious confidence that I would be making my first big quilt.  But my eyes were indeed much bigger than my stomach on this one, and three days after I started, I have an aching body and not even a quilt to keep me warm at night.  Perhaps someday, when my knees are healed and I can actually stand up from the sitting position without grimacing, I will forgive this project.  But for now, I’m thinking it’s on to the next letter for some R and R.

"M" marathon!

Martes. El martes por la mañana. I have to admit, I started off my marathon feeling a little moody. After a week emerged in the Midwest summer heat, back home in the “sunny” Mission, the clouds and crisp air was making me feel melancholy. So I started out by mailing my friend Mar a letter. I miss her, just like I miss all of my amigas back in my second madre tierra. It made me smile.
Next up, I walked up towards Market street and caught MUNI (SF public transportation) to a movie matinee in the mall on Market and 4th. Me and six other people (three of them women on their own with bags of popcorn, just like me!) enjoyed the film, The Kids are All Right, starring Mark Ruffalo and Julianne Moore. Maybe it was because of the time of the month, or perhaps I was tired and still in the midwest time zone, but this movie made me cry. Me gustó mucho. My favorite kind of movie: memorable character development with a non-cheesy, slightly-awkward portrayal of real life. The music (including MGMT at the end) rocked. Afterwards, I meandered a bit through the mall, walked to Macy’s and contemplated buying makeup at the Mac counter, but decided I didn’t really have the money for such a meaningless purchase.
So I made my way back to the Mission on Bart, direction Millbrae. I grabbed my MacBook and moseyed over to Maxfield’s House of Caffeine (across the street from Mission High) for a single soymilk mocha, where I finally solved the mystery of the word myriad.

This word has plagued me for some time now. I remember being told that it should never be used with the word “of.” I would refer to Interpol’s accurate usage on this one, from the song Slow Hands: “You make me wanna pick up a guitar and celebrate the myriad ways that I love you.” But then yesterday, I was browsing Chris’ guidebook on the windy city (long story), and, noticed this: “The best times to come to Chicago are when the myriad of city-sponsored music and food festivals... (p.6)” Hmmm. If the ultimate grammar geek is using “of,” I need to get to the bottom of this!
So, I consulted the master, the Merriam-Webster online dictionary: “Recent criticism of the use of myriad as a noun, both in the plural form myriads and in the phrase a myriad of, seems to reflect a mistaken belief that the word was originally and is still properly only an adjective. As the entries here show, however, the noun is in fact the older form, dating to the 16th century. The noun myriad has appeared in the works of such writers as Milton (plural myriads) and Thoreau (a myriad of), and it continues to occur frequently in reputable English. There is no reason to avoid it.”
I feel much better now, thank you m-w.com!

Next thing on the agenda, to finally cancel that pesky Myspace account that I tried to get rid of about six months ago. This time, within minutes, they followed through, and just like that, my relationship with myspace is all over.

After a mini-siesta to maintain my energy, I met Molly for a beer at the Monk’s Kettle, where we both had Belgian beers (a McChouffe for me, a Maredsous Blonde for Molly) . Then more peeps came and our group multiplied to five and we headed to our favorite Mexican joint in the Mission for some famous margaritas and a meal (I had the torta milanesa: a breaded steak sandwich? Next time, definitely the mole.) The service was mediocre, but the margaritas were magnificent and the company was marvelous. Our last stop, a nightcap mojito. Minty goodness. Then it was off to sleep by midnight. I felt tired, almost like I had just run a marathon.

M musical melodies: Modest Mouse, Maná, MGMT, Joni Mitchell, Madonna, the Magic Numbers, Matisyahu, the Mendoza Line, M. Ward, Laura Marling, Marvin Gaye, Ida Maria, Bob Marley, Lisa Mitchell.

L is for Lioness

In what can only be explained as a “crafting coincidence”, the movie Julie & Julia was on this morning as I was taking a crack at Martha Stewart’s sugar cookie and royal icing recipe.  My daydreaming mind wandered, and before I knew it, I was imagining Meryl Streep playing Martha in the next “amateur blogger meets her womanly role model” genre Hollywood blockbuster. Yikes!
Unlike Julie and her cooking idol, I have never really thought much of Martha and her perfection.  Something about her monotone voice maybe.  Or maybe I am just intimidated by her?  Whatever the case is, a few weeks ago I looked through Claire’s copy of Martha's Encyclopedia of Crafts, and began to have a change of heart.  It all looks so pretty!  Plus, her recipe was pretty much your run-of-the-mill sugar cookie recipe (with the exception that I didn’t have brandy for the cookies or meringue powder (?) for the icing, so I had to substitute milk and egg whites, respectively.)  Any idiot can do it, right?
The lion cookie cutter is clearly a tribute to the crafting lioness herself, Martha.  Unlike her lazier male counterpart, the lioness is motivated, cunning and deadly.  She is a hunter.  She sees what she wants, she examines it, she attacks, she gets what she wants.  Her tenacious spirit and perseverance will never let silly obstacles (like “jail time”) stand in her way.  I was reluctant to admit it before, but she is truly a force to be reckoned with.  She is the queen of her crafting kingdom!
One would think that Martha’s karma would have been with me today, since I was dedicating my craft to her and all.  Well, it wasn’t.  As you can see below, our lion cookies would be more likely to be found in a 2nd grade bake-sale than in Martha Stewart Living.  It was that pesky meringue powder, wasn’t it?  That was a cruel, lioness-like move, Martha...  If it’s going to end up soupy with egg whites, why tell me it’s an acceptable substitute?  Huh?
Oh, well. In the end, they tasted good, but I'm still slightly scared of her.

*Thanks to Jessi K. for the Martha Stewart caliber kitchen supplies.  She got to decorate three whole cookies before Stella demanded her boobs!

And, did you know that Martha had a "moderately successful" modeling career?

K is for kids!

This week, instead of crafting in my habitual cramped quarters in California, I decided to look for inspiration elsewhere.  So, I took the big cross-country flight to meet my newborn niece, Stella K (K!)  Since I’ve arrived, I have received an education on kids, the having of them and, what’s slightly less time-consuming, the aunt-ing of them.
The first thing about kids to remember is that the are constantly producing fluids.  They need to change clothes about three times a day, because they either have a spit-up explosion, a pee explosion, or my personal favorite, a poop explosion. As a proud Tia, I’m happy to boast that Stella is good at all three!  A highlight of the trip was the day that Stella pooped in the bathtub.  This was a special day, not only because of the baby’s digestive fireworks, but also because it was the day that Bailey the Dog’s general anxiety level/ fear of thunderstorms/ slight younger sister jealousy manifested itself in the form of diarrhea.  Twice.  I thought picking up solid dog poop was thrilling, but this was taking it to another level.  But the poor thing, you can’t blame her! That small human steals all of the attention!
So I decided to help out the Kavanagh household by providing more onesies for the little star.  On Monday’s big outing, Jessi and I went to exotic New Jersey to Babies R’ Us and bought a package of onesies (I believe these are called growers across the Atlantic.)  We managed to make it one more stop (to Michaels for fabric paint) before Stella told us how she really felt about car travel.
The results?  A sleeping baby and an Oberon later: Emotional blackmail in its most familiar form.

*Note: Screen printing or stenciling on baby onesies: MUCH easier than hand painting!

J is for juggling

You know how some people wish that life was more like a musical, where everyone spontaneously bursts into song?  Ridiculous.  But what if life were more like a circus?  What would that be like?  Cotton candy being sold on street corners, elephants carrying people to work, and if you’re like me and imagining it more like the Cirque du Soleil, we would all be crazy flexible and would fly from building to building using flowing strips of fabric.  Imagine that.  But I’m pretty sure we all have an “inner circus clown” that we keep hidden.  Let’s let it out!

I have to give a shout out to Denyse Schmidt and her book “Quilts,” (http://www.dsquilts.com/paper_goods.asp) because she gives some pretty awesome instructions on how to make juggling bean-bags.  While I’m in this paragraph, I’ll tell a funny story about that (some of you might have already heard this in person this week, so you get to hear this thrilling story again!)  I was on the phone with my mom (who was on a quilt-teaching trip in Sisters, Oregon, this becomes relevant in a minute) and I was telling her how I was making juggling lentil-bags, and she said, “Oh how funny! Where did you get that idea? “ And I said that I had found this really cool book the other day in Berkeley by this woman Denyse Schmidt, and she said, “No way, I’m teaching with Denyse Schmidt right now in Sisters!”  Ha ha, small world.

But back to the project.  I decided to honor the letter “J” by machine appliqué-ing on each bag.  There’s three, so the first one, naturally, is for Juggling.  The second one goes for my sister, Jessi.  And the last one, for my favorite Spanglish word for “yes,” Jes. I chose my fabric for a double-sided, contrasting look:  Food on one side, fun on the other.  I even managed to sneak some more artichoke fabric in there!  The oranges can be in honor my former city of Valencia, and the cherries, for my home state of Meechigan.  But I have to say, my favorite part was making the paper cone and pouring in the lentils!  Strangely satisfying and addictive, sort of like watching sand in an hourglass.
But wait, the fun really came when I had finished production. I can’t remember when I “learned to juggle” (as I claimed earlier in the day yesterday), but it became pretty clear as I began to “try them out,” that I hadn’t really made a serious commitment to mastering it back in the 6th grade.  It’s a good thing I decided to seal the bags with a sturdy machine stitch instead of the recommended hand slip-stitch, because those bad boys were experiencing some major ground collisions.
On a scale of 1-10, this activity gets a 10 for fun.  An actual final product that you can play with, not just something that looks pretty and hangs on the wall.  Who knows, maybe now I will spontaneously burst out juggling from now on.  And, I am pretty sure it’s helping my hand-eye coordination.

Recommended juggling music- Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins, The Big Guns.  (and I dare you to juggle through the entire song.)
**Thanks to the ultimate crafter-nator, Suze C, for the alphabet tea towel shown above!

H is for Happy Hour

Before I start (I feel like Ira Glass when he asks for donations from podcast listeners) I just want to point out that this will be the last post before the eBay auction ends on Monday. Things are heatin’ up! Four bidders. Lots of smack-talk going on (one person claims they are the “only horse in this race”, one is taunting the other’s sewing machine preferences, another wants their item made of velour so they can drape it over themselves in victory.) Who will be the lucky one to get a “custom-made piece of art?!!” Did I say it is custom-made? Here's the link: eBay battle

**

Okay, I confess. I tried all day to figure out how to make my evening plans fit into the letter “H.” Neither the place or the activity began with the letter. But then I consulted the Alphabet Summer rule book (myself) and decided that this was well within the boundaries. It was a social event slightly after the hour of 6pm involving beer, talking, and crafting; Therefore, I will designate this event "Crappy Hour."
I met my fiery (and punctual) crafting partner-in-crime Claire at the Museum of Craft and Folk Art (the MOCFA. I know, it sounds like a curse word. You MOCFA!) What could be better? A museum dedicated to crafty things hosting a Craft Bar with Etsy Labs event! Warm beer and appetizers, awkward social mingling between crafty people, and best of all, felting.
Now, I’ve been pretty skeptical about this whole felting thing. I knew one person (at my former place of employment that rhymes with Crapston) who was an avid “felt-er” and I never really understood what she was going on about. But, I didn’t have much else going on in my life yesterday evening, so it was either continue playing Angry Birds on my iPhone until my eyes popped out, or go poke my fingers multiple times with a felting needle. Honestly, it was a tough call.
The concept of this event was to go around from one craft station to the next, trying out different activities. Felt penguins here, felt necklaces there, felt caterpillars and knitting outside on the windy terrace (My heart went out to the "Stitch and Bitch" woman, who sat knitting quietly in a circle of empty chairs while the felting tables overflowed with humans.) With so many thrilling options, where to start?!
We chose the caterpillar station, because it seemed easier and more confidence-boosting. When mine came out looking more like a piece of edamame with a toupee, I was reassured by Claire that this was about "learning to felt," not about being perfect. Alright, fine. My felting finger was turning white from the brisk San Francisco evening, so we went inside to check out the scene. Yikes. We tried to elbow our way to the penguin table, but it was mobbed with over-eager bird lovers. And who would want to make a felt necklace? Please. So we decided to go rogue and make our own projects. Oh, the dirty looks! “You’re not making a penguin?” “Where did you get the instructions on how to make a pig?“ Awww. Such cute, inside-the-box crafters! I mean really! You take some wool and stab at it with a needle! You can make a turkey sandwich if you set your mind to it!
I have to admit, the penguins were pretty awesome. But my little red hog (H for Hog!) and Claire’s turquoise monster were symbolic of our philosophy on crafting: Why make a gray and black non-flying bird just because they tell you to, when you can just as easily make a red pig or a blue monster?
We are two crafty MOCFAs.

G is for Grandma

The recent birth of the next generation in my family has got me thinking.  Looking back on the past 12 months of my life, I am overwhelmed by how much change there has been.  But what about someone who has lived 85 years?  That’s my overwhelmed feeling times 85!  How will I ever cope with this!? I decided to get some advice on this matter, so as to avoid self-implosion. I got my grandma, Leatha “Tiny” Holly, on the phone.  Thanks to a series of confusing “Save as” functions and an attempted “Export” from Garage Band (why is that program so confusing!?),  I had a slight to major panic attack when I couldn’t find the 55 minute conversation anywhere on my computer.  Already a little worked up from watching the Spain-Portugal game, I had to put my head between my knees and breathe. Turns out it was saved under “Female Voice.”  Hmm.  Now it’s saved for all posterity in my iTunes library under the artist name “Grandma Holly.” (I can’t wait until that comes up on Party Shuffle!)

Life, love, and children...  here are some of Tiny’s words of wisdom:

Me: Grandma, do you remember your wedding day? Tiny: OF COURSE I remember my wedding day! (she giggles- Yes I realize that was a dumb question.  Who isn’t going to remember their wedding day?) I was stressed and I was glad when it was over!  We went to Niagara Falls for our honeymoon, and then came back and settled into a long 60 years!

Me: Do you remember any fights with Grandpa? Tiny: Oh, we didn’t have fights, we had discussions!  I remember telling that to your mom once and she said, “Well boy, you sure do have a lot of discussions then!”

Me: Do you have any advice about discussing with your husband, then? Tiny: Don’t take anything too seriously.  If and when you get married (I smile), and you don’t agree, don’t fight about it. Try to figure out why you don’t agree.  The most important thing in a marriage is to talk.  The idea is to do that and stay sane.  You have to know how each person feels, because you both come from different backgrounds, you both come from different families, and you gotta learn to do those things.

Me: What’s the hardest thing about being a mother? Tiny: Oh my gosh.  That’s a hard question!  With each phase that the children go through, you have to know how to react.

Me: What about being a mother to teenagers? Tiny: Now there’s your problem.  Teenagers. (--connection sign!*--) Teenagers are trying to grow up and they want to do things on their own when their not old enough to.  You gotta be able to not let them run wild,  that’s all.  And that’s hard.  They want to do what everybody else does.  And they’ll say to you, “Well she can do it, why can’t I?”  Did you ever say that to your mother? (Me?  Never!  I was the model teenager!) It’s a nice feeling to be a mother of a teenager, because they’re growing up, they’re learning, but it’s also hard, because they want to do things that you don’t want them to do, but you have to let them do things.  But it’s alright, every teenager grows up and mothers handle it.

Me:  What was it like when you became a grandmother for the first time? (She insisted that it was the same for the births of all four grandchildren, me being the second.  I said I wouldn’t be sad if she felt that the first one was more special.  But she didn’t give in!) Tiny: I really loved that.  My baby was having a baby... I know people say that, but it’s true!  I can still see Susie as this little kid clinging to my skirt and crying at me.  And here she’s having a baby!  It’s just something that is just hard to describe!  And then when you came along it was the same (he he).

Me:  What is it like to be a great-grandmother? Tiny:  It’s so thrilling.  It’s cry-able.  Because I cry a lot.  I look at that little baby and I think, my goodness, that’s my granddaughter’s baby, I’m great-grandmother to this beautiful little baby! I’m so amazed that I’m so fortunate to live this long... I’m not very young anymore you know!  It’s great, I’ve lived a long time, and this is one of the best things that’s happened.

Me:  What do you remember in your lifetime to be an important event? Tiny: World War II.  I look back at that time, walking home from work or school and it was the strangest thing to have soldiers walking around.  It was that feeling of “there’s a war going on” and knowing that all the guys went to war.  Grandpa went to war, and he was very lucky to come home!

Me: What has changed in your lifetime? Tiny:  My goodness.  Everything has changed, I don’t understand what’s going on. You can’t imagine, we had little radios and our cars weren’t very good.  Now look!

Me: What has stayed the same? Tiny: We all have families, we all get married, that’s all the same.

Me:  Do you think we are better off now? Tiny: Well, I wouldn’t want to go back!  Some people want to go back to the ‘olden days’... I don’t!  I don’t want to go back to when we had to ride a horse and buggy! I don’t like that stuff!  I like things to be easy and simple!  I want a washing machine, I don’t want to wash my clothes by hand! (I don’t either!)

Me: Will you tell the “Big Head” story?  This is one of my favorite stories that my grandma tells...  I just had to hear it again! Tiny: Your mother came home from school crying one day in the 2nd grade and said to me, “Do you know anybody that has a head that’s bigger than their body?” and I said, “Well, no, I don’t.  Who?” and then she says, “Me!”  (We giggle, except my mom in the background who was surely rolling her eyes) Well you have to get these stories before something happens to me otherwise they’ll be gone forever! (Sidenote: My mom does have a “larger than average” head, but is now at peace with it because it means she has "more brains.")

Tiny is one of seven siblings, the mother of three daughters and one son, the grandmother to four girls, and the great-grandmother to one tiny baby Stella.

*For those of you not fortunate enough to know the connection sign gesture yet: Make the gesture like you are saying "call me" with your thumb and pinkie... then point your pinkie at the person near you and wiggle your hand. It's a fun, Quakerly way of expressing non-verbal agreement!

Check on the eBay auction... Click below: You have until Monday!

E is for eBay!

Finally!  ¡Jesús! (pronounced Hay-SEUSS, like Dr. Seuss) The powers that be in eBay land were not appreciating my last-minute lifestyle.  PayPal!  You are a crafty mo-fo.  But two can play at that game.  Here it is... the long awaited E entry. So... this letter is a mixture of an activity and a destination, resulting in something crafty.  It’s the perfect storm of this project!  eBay started in the San Francisco Bay Area, therefore, I feel like I’ve gone somewhere local.

The only time I have ever used eBay was five years ago, when I bought a pair of those Nike sneakers with the separated big toe... remember those?  Yeah, I used them so little that I don’t even know where they are.  I mean, who can afford to buy the socks!?  But Alphabet Summer is all about taking on challenges and trying new things, so I must restore my faith in this website!   My dad buys actual Volkswagen cars on eBay!

So here’s the deal.  I am auctioning off a piece of art.  This piece of art does not exist yet.  Well, it WILL exist, but not until someone bids on it.

Go to this link:

http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=160450196057#ht_569wt_967 This is a win-win situation for you!  I’ve started the bidding at 99 cents.  And if you add in the $5 shipping, you could end up getting a piece of original artwork by yours truly for only $6*!  For simply clicking and bidding.

*That's four whopping pounds for you Englishmen, and 4 euros 80 centimos in España.  Hello!?

You have one week.

May the alphabet be with you!

Keep tuning in for updates on the eBay-Alphabet summer fling!

D is for D.I.Y.

Back to my favorite Do It Yourself creative center of the moment, Workshop on McAllister (www.workshopsf.org) for Sewing 102, Alterations and Reconstruction. I have to admit, I went into this experience with a slight, if not severe sense of superiority (I can wind a bobbin in my sleep! Janome sewing machines!  I could almost hear Sue Nickels cringe!)  But as I looked down at my band-aid from Friday night screen printing (second degree burn, I might add), I remembered my humility.  Sure, I can make handbags and frilly fabric flowers.  I might be able to machine applique a sun onto a baby blanket (What’s up Olivia!?).  But... can I do anything useful for society?  Can I hem jeans for my short friends?  Can I finally fix that jacket for poor Chris that is gathering dust at the back of my closet?  The answer is, now I can!  DIY, baby!

Tonight, I learned the utmost important lesson in how to use my talents and give back to society: I can turn a pair of $8 wide-leg pants from the thrift store into skinny-leg pants.  And use the excess materials for a matching hipster headband.  Look out Valencia street!  All I need now is a pair of those pointy-toed tap shoes and big, ugly plastic framed glasses and I’m finally ready to fit in here.

It was a liberating experience.  We used chalk to mark lines, we guesstimated straight lines, and (Sue*, cover your ears!) we sewed over pins!  Turns out I’m not as Type A as I thought about sewing.  Thanks, Workshop!

Check out the DIY drama.

*If by some off-chance you’re reading this and you aren’t a friend or family (highly unlikely), yes, Sue Nickels is the world-famous quilter/ my mother.