Grab a chair and a couple of root beers...

Saying "Wilkie Twycross" out loud makes it sound like one is lisping.

The Impossible Son and I are reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and when I got to reading the name of the Apparition Instructor out loud, Mr. Manzie snickered.

It was almost as fun as reading On Golden Pond out loud and trying to say "Ethel Thayer." Makes it sound like your front teeth are missing. Or too big, I can't decide.

In other news, I am learning to knit, and it's driving me nuts, though I am slowly getting the hang of it. Mostly, I was having trouble getting used to holding the yarn with my right hand instead of my left, as one does in crochet (and yes, I did try the Continental method, but... nope, didn't work), and also, trying to figure out how to adjust the tension in the yarn. I think I have it... kind of.

My mother is excited about this, and has insisted that once I figure it out, I teach her how to knit, too. I have to admire my mother, wanting to learn to knit at the age of 82. She is all kinds of brave, you know? She's also decided to get back into sewing, because she's tired of wearing slacks and jeans that don't fit. I don't blame her.

This makes me a little nervous, because her eyesight isn't what it used to be, yet at the same time, I do understand. She used to make all our clothes, and I never truly appreciated that until she started working full time, and didn't have time to sew any more. Store bought clothes just don't fit you the way clothes that are sewn specifically for you do. One of Mom's neighbors was a seamstress, and she taught Mom how to tailor clothing in exchange for fresh eggs (my parents kept chickens until Houston zoned them out of the city limits), so all our clothes were well made and fitted exactly to us. I kind of miss that, myself.

Speaking of which, I discovered last week that there is a fabric store in my town! It was a complete surprise. The only "fabric store" we had previously was WalMart, and I absolutely hated buying fabric there, because it was all... crappy. Sometimes, I would find really nice fabric at WalMart, but it was always by accident! However... the WalMart here has closed their fabric department, and barely has a craft department. It's more like a ... craft aisle. Major suckage.

What that meant was if I wanted fabric or yarn, I had to either go to Austin, San Marcos, or San Antonio. More suckage.

Well, when we were doing all the hair cutting last week, I had noticed that a store we liked had moved from their tiny little building to a new and larger building, so I said, "let's go in!" And found that they had a fabric shop in the back corner!! YAY!!!

I have a feeling I will be a very frequent visitor!!! *can see her fabric stash growing beyond reasonable limits*

AND... I have a neighbor who is a seamstress... wonder if I can do a barter exchange with her for tailoring lessons... *feels an odd synchronicity with her mother*

Hee!!

I got an insight into why I have such a hard time buying clothes for myself. As in, I should not be allowed to buy clothes for myself. Because, really, y'all, I make the most inappropriate choices for myself and it isn't because I have no fashion savvy... it's because I get frustrated, or anxious, and just want to get it over with.

The clothes I buy for the kids and for THO are great. It's just me that I suck at buying for.

Well, I was folding clothes, and found this blouse that my mom had made for me back when I was... 23, I think, and I was looking at it, thinking how it would look terrible on me now (can't wear that type of boatneck anymore) but admiring what a good job she did on it and was struck by memories. Standing on the kitchen table wearing pieces of fabric that crackled because the paper pattern was still stuck to it, yelping because Mom stuck a pin in my waist accidently as she fit it to me, basically doing a custom-tailoring job, and whining, "Can I put my arms down now?" because I was tired after standing with my arms straight out for ten minutes.

My mom made all our clothes. Well, except for underwear, socks, and jeans. The only store-bought clothes we had were gifts from relatives. Even after my sisters got jobs and could afford to buy their own clothes, they still would bring pictures of dresses or shirts to Mom and ask her to make whatever it was for them.

See, this is why I am bad at buying clothes for myself. My mom would take us to a department store, and in the 60's and 70's, all department stores had fabric departments. So Mom would take me into the girls' department and start picking out clothes for me to try on. And I would get so excited! I'd think, "Finally, I'm actually going to get something store-bought!"

Store-bought was a very big thing for us.

Mom would scrutinize how I looked, and would make notes in this little notebook she carried in her purse. Then, she'd take all the clothes back and hang them back on the racks, then take me to the fabric department and sit down to look at patterns in the big books. McCall's, Simplicity, Sweets, etc. While I sat there pouting and feeling deceived. She'd find the patterns she wanted, referring to her notes, would go get them and study the suggested fabrics (then make up her own mind what would work) and would take me through the stands of fabric, looking for colors and patterns I liked. At this point, I'd start getting a little more enthusiastic about it, and would realize that I could have any color I liked of the dress or shorts or shirts I liked. Then she'd go home and make it, and what she made always fit me better than what we tried on in the store.

This happened every time until I figured out that I was not going to get any of what we tried on. So, I learned to try on things without getting any more committed to it than it took to just be interested in how it looked and how it fit. And taking after my mother, I would always think of how it would look better in another fabric or another color, which was never on the racks.

Mom stopped sewing all my clothes when I was about twelve, when she went back to work. All of a sudden, I had to get used to wearing clothes that fit... but not very well. I was skinny with a round bottom, a high waist, and deceptively long legs for my short height. So... pants never fit properly. Petite pants were always too short, because for some reason, the makers of petite clothing think petite women have short legs. I got used to wearing dresses and pants a little bit too long because of that. Because petite dresses are... too short, too. Long legs, remember?

Anyhow, I realized that most of my problems buying clothes for myself stem from those days of knowing that I was not going to get what I was trying on, so why get excited about it? This requires a major readjustment to my way of thinking. Which ain't gonna be easy, folks.

Mom keeps saying, "Just make your own clothes. I did!"

Um... there are still days when I don't get to brush my hair. When precisely am I supposed to sew?

Mom says, "Well, I did my sewing at night while y'all were asleep."

O_o!

Sorry. Auntie values her sleep. Auntie needs her sleep. I spent Miss Priss' first four years being extremely sleep deprived so... I am very jealous of my time asleep. This is part of where the "Do not disturb Bear, do not provoke the Bear, do not take chocolate away from the Bear" saying of the Husbandly One's came from.

*eyes her closet speculatively*