News flash - I am an introvert.

You know, some days - most days, really - I would so much rather be doing this job: Library Technician, Camdem Public Library. Have you been to Camden, ME? It's beautiful. Have you been to the library there? The location is just fantastic. I would not mind, not one bit, serving customers at the circulation desk; answering reference and reader's advisory questions; assisting customers and staff with basic technical support; and playing a vital role in their 21st century library if I could overlook Penobscot Bay all day. Or climb Camden Hills on the weekends. Or drive up to Belfast to my favorite fabric store every once in a while. Sign me up for that job!

But no, I am here persevering through the Library Transition, because we live here and not in Maine, and because there is something strong within my psychological makeup that does not allow me to simply walk away from a house, a job (for however long I have it), and an established life. Curse that something strong, because that Camden job is my dream job.

How could that job be my dream? It's not a management job. I would not be a leader, I would not be a director, I would not be in control of anything. I would do my 35-hours a week and that's it. What kind of a career is in that kind of a job? How does the strong, independent 20th century Sex and the City woman who can do and have it all fit in with a job like that? How could I possibly be happy with it?

But I could be. That's the thing. If I could get rid of that stupidly annoying something strong within my psychological makeup that also causes me to push forward and strive for things that I somehow think that I should want but do not actually want, I would go for a job like that in Camden and be happy with it all. Because I'm an introvert. I'm not looking for fame or fortune or for anything else but a place where I can fit in and be comfortable, and be myself. Read the cover article in the February 6th issue of Time and you'll see what I mean. I read the article and finally felt like someone got me. Like there were others out there like me. Like there really is an upside to being an introvert! And that it's okay that I am the way I am.

So if it's okay that I am the way that I am, and if 30% of all people are right there next to me on the introvert scale, why do I always feel so strange? So unique? So out of step and out of touch with the world? Look at me. Do I look that strange to you?

No, of course not. Clearly this is just some kind of personal hangup, and the more that I learn about other people who are like me, successful people (successful because they know who they are and work to their strengths), the better off I will be. Which means someday I may stop trying to fit myself into some kind of round hole that this square body just can't fit into, and instead I'll learn to be satisfied with being me. And I'll be happy to answer your informational questions while on shift at the local public library and not make myself crazy with guilt about not doing something "better."

Of course, you do realize that much of what I say is exaggerated. Because I am often quite satisfied being me. I have fun, in my own way, and I often enjoy myself. For example, I recently turned one of my homemade scarves into a cowl. This scarf was way too long and wide to be a good traditional scarf and I never really wore it. After wearing the cowl that Doug's mother got me for Christmas for about twenty days straight, I started to think that maybe I should get another to mix into the wardrobe. But why buy one? I should be able to make one myself, I said to myself. So I then said to myself, "But wait - you practically have made one already!" I pulled the scarf out of the closet, knitted the two ends together, and viola!

One rather large, rather cone-like cowl. Now I know what Sherman feels like. And I feel like I've accomplished something worthwhile and fun.

And, of course, I entertain myself in other ways. Like keeping up with the most cutting edge technologies. I have finally dipped my toe into the world of QR codes and have been making them for everything these past few days. Every sign I create to hang in the library, or to put in the cases of the e-readers we now circulate, has a QR code or two on it. But why limit my creative powers to work? I could start using these QR codes for everything. Could I now blog with QR codes? Post a QR code on this blog for the text of a post that exists on another of my (long abandoned) blogs? Perhaps that's going a little too far, but I can add a code that brings you to this site to any other site of mine.

Like a Facebook site. Or my twitter page. I'm sure the possibilities are endless.

So while others are out there trying to climb the corporate ladder, updating their resumes, searching job ads, getting advanced degrees to make more money and to have more power and control, I'll be thinking of places to put my QR codes. You know you'd rather be doing that, too.

Happy trails.

There must be a quote by some kind of sagely person floating around out there in the sea of collective wisdom that says something to the effect of "Life is better when traveling." If there is not, then I will be the person to declare that life is better when traveling. And by traveling I don't mean getting on a plane and flying across time-zones, or even staying in hotels. I just mean leaving your cats and your chores and your life behind for a little fun away from home.

Doug and I have had a bit of that lately. We spent the weekend of the October nor'easter in Provincetown and it was wonderful. Granted I was just coming down hard with a bad headcold, and we only had about five hours of dry conditions before the winds and rain kicked in, but we enjoyed each and every minute of being near the water.

We had such fun daydreaming about buying a small condo on the far east or west end of town and spending weekends near the water. I pictured myself sitting in a light and airy room with my sewing machine, sewing whatever new creation was inspiring me that day. Artists abound in P-town (even those that compose their art right on the beach), and Doug and I like the creativity in the air there (not to mention the fresh, ocean air).

I came home to a week of feeling like poo, which is what bad colds usually do to people, and unfortunately no amount of Halloween candy could make me feel better (believe me, I gave it my all). But the bright light at the end of the tunnel that week was a trip to New York City to see Doug's band play at Arlene's Grocery. Initially I was not that thrilled about seeing him play and then having to make the drive up to his parents' place in Monroe (I'm notorious for going to bed early), but I'm glad I stayed awake for it and paid my $10 in support of his cause.

Hot Molasses played well, considering that both Doug and Julia were sick. They looked good on stage, and, even though this wasn't their best show, they had energy and sounded so much better than the band that played before them.

Doug is funny about these shows. He acts like they are no big deal, but the need to debrief is always very strong. I'd like more Doug in the songs; more Doug-driven songs. A song about Puritans could be a great addition to the set list.

What was potentially more exciting (for me, at least) was walking around SoHo. This was my first trip there, believe it or not. I've been to NYC before but never to the Lower East Side, and I think I'll be going back. I made it to Purl SoHo and The Strand! That may have been worth the lack of sleep for me. I now have two and a half more yards of fabric to craft into something very useful

and have a souvenir from one of the most overwhelming (in a good way) bookstores I have ever been in.

How much are rents in SoHo? Could we afford to live there? I could get very used to walking the twenty or so blocks up Broadway between Purl SoHo and The Strand, though I may not have any money left for rent (or any room in my minuscule apartment for all the fabric, yarn and books I'd buy).

Keep traveling. That's what I say. Those are the words I will live by.

A little more, a little less.

What's in my backpack?

I look at job ads all the time because I am still trying to figure out what one can do with a library degree. There are all kinds of jobs out there and they are all over the place. Berkeley, Middletown, CT, Maryland, everywhere. I just saw a posting the other day that made me say, "Cool!" Associate Archivist at Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC. Of course, the job may not really be cool when you discover what it actually involves, but if I read the posting with my Antiques Roadshow goggles and think about being in Asheville, then I become very excited and I wish I had stayed in the archives program at Simmons so that I could have had a job like this. Wishes and regrets about my professional life I have plenty.

The job, you'll note, is in NC, which is not within commuting distance of my current home in Dedham, MA. The vast majority of the jobs that I see posted that make me go, "Hmmm...." are not within commuting distance of Dedham. This is a bit of a problem, since we own a home in Dedham and the market right now is pretty poor for house-selling. And, as I have said time and time again on this blog, we really like our house and we've grown used to Dedham. But this doesn't change the fact that our house ties us down. Weighs us down and keeps us in one place. Makes our backpacks very heavy.

What do we do about that? Not quite sure. We go back and forth on this topic each day. Sell or not to sell. Move or not to move. It's the same old, same old. Blah, blah. But Doug and I are in the process of lightening the load in our backpacks in other ways. Like going through our bookshelves and pulling books that we won't read or don't have any attachment to.



Doug's going through all of his pedals and is selling some. I have started a bag for clothes and shoes give-away. We are donating two chairs to Uncle Jimmy's house in New Hampshire for when the construction on his addition is completed. We have started a tag sale pile and have several things in it already, including some pots and pans that we haven't used once since we moved into this house. Things like that.

Our "Lightening the Load," our "Great Leap Forward," was side-tracked a bit while we were dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Irene. A microburst went through our neighborhood and several extremely large and old trees met their maker because of it. Also because of it we spent four days with very limited power. No power to the main parts of our house meant that I spent a lot of time crafting. I finally made my new curtain for the kitchen:



Matching placemats:



A stupid sock creature:



What's ironic is that all of these things add weight to my backpack and so counteract what I am actually trying to do by getting rid of stuff. Because all of this is just more stuff. Now I have a spare set of curtains in storage, more placemats to store for use when the company I never invite over comes over, and a stuffed sock with button eyes that sits on the dining room table and collects cat hair. But all of it was fun to make, and I think the window looks much better with the new curtain. So maybe it's worth it to add to my backpack? Or maybe it's a balance. I can add to my backpack as long as I take more out than I am adding to it. Isn't that what life is about? Balancing the good with the bad? Yes, I think it is. And so the trial for me continues.

Spring is springing.

It's Cinco de Mayo. To celebrate, I went to the dermatologist (who looked like a 12 year-old boy and kept telling me how much he loved his iPad, but of course still loved the "idea" of the library). Better than a margarita?

Anyway, it's spring. It's officially real spring, with green grass, magnolia trees that you can smell from a block away, daffodils and tulips, the sounds of lawnmowers in the distance, and drastic temperature shifts. Spring is the season of dressing in layers, and also the season of bright and colorful flowers. Look at what we saw on Nantucket: I have never seen window boxes as beautiful as those that I saw in Nantucket. Nantucket was rife with flowers, mostly daffodils planted in random locations, but such color against the gray! One couldn't help but stop and get off one's scooter and take a photo. And one couldn't help but be inspired by the color, so when we got home from Nantucket we took a trip to Mahoney's and started to get our planting on. This is as far as we got: A good start, indeed, but more, please! I'm waiting for the house to be painted before I plant the window boxes, but we are actively thinking about plantings in the many bare spots around the yard. Nantucket and the smell of spring in the air inspired us.

Spring is also the season of first communions, and our niece, Miss Maria, had her first communion on Saturday. Doug and I spent the day with the latest little bride of Christ. Doesn't she look so happy to finally get to eat the wafer and be absolved of her sins? She told my sister that the "wafer didn't taste good," and I concur! Apparently, when Catholics take communion they are not eating a paper-thin wafer of water and flour and absolutely no flavor, but instead the body and blood and very essence of Jesus himself. It's the myth (belief?) of transubstantiation at work. I think I knew this, I must have once known this, but hearing about it on Saturday blew me away. Why do we have to eat the actual blood, body and essence of Jesus? Why can't we simply eat something that symbolizes the blood, body and essence of Jesus? To me, if we were really eating Jesus it would taste a whole lot better. Jesus was a special kind of guy. The church should perform communion with peanut butter cups. They're sweet and salty and completely wonderful, and isn't that what Jesus is supposed to be?

Who knows. Who knows what Jesus is supposed to be. I'm realizing that I'm a pretty bad Christian, because I have such a hard time wrapping my mind around the concept of Jesus. There is just so much that I have to take as truth and fact that the church cannot define or explain, and I need explanation, definition, and concrete evidence. My mind is a little more scientific than I think the church would like. And that's why I gravitate towards crafts like sewing and quilting and needlepoint and those kinds of concrete crafts where I can touch and hold things and shape them and put them together to create something tangible and real. My quilt, which I have finished, by the way (yesterday! It's done and on the bed!), is something that I can think about and touch and understand. I cut pieces of material, sew them together, sew larger pieces of material together, bind it, and call it a day. Done.

And, like I said, done it is. It has taken me about two months to bind the quilt. I started working on the binding back in February. First I cut the pieces of binding and then sewed them all together into one big strip. Then I pinned the binding to the quilt and sewed it onto the front of the quilt. Once the front part was sewn on, I folded the binding around the rough edge of the quilt and sewed it onto the back. I have no photos of sewing the binding to the back of the quilt, because it involved me hand-sewing, which is a lot less interesting than me using the sewing machine. But, the end result was this: The binding sewn onto the front and the binding sewn onto the back. And now the quilt is washed (and did not fall apart in the washing machine! I consider that a great achievement) and on our bed. This quilt is no professional job, that's for sure, but that is the whole point. It's homemade, looks homemade, and serves its purpose well. I already have several t-shirts waiting to be put to good use in another quilt. Seems I'm a glutton for punishment!

Sew productive!

I follow the blog The Purl Bee to see what great ideas they come up with for fun sewing and knitting projects (and I would love to go to Purl Soho if I ever get myself to NYC). On a recent visit to the blog I saw a post that really hit home, and the photos gave me a bit of déjà-vu: Now how familiar are those? These are my bibs! And my bibs are these bibs! Can't you see the resemblance? I feel like I was on the cutting edge when I made these bibs over a year ago. The Purl Bee is only now posting about them. Maybe someone from The Purl Bee saw my handsome nephew in his bib, or cute-as-a-button baby Ruby wearing hers and was inspired by my vision. Or, maybe they just happen to have the same book of sewing projects that I do. Regardless, I'm pleased to see that The Purl Bee and I are on the same crafting page.

The fabrics on the bibs from The Purl Bee are great, and definitely one of the reasons I want to get myself down to that store. I have a vision of a store where the walls are lined with shelves and on those shelves are reams and reams of fabric with bold colors and unique prints. And my mind will swim in an ocean of ideas - what to do with that fabric? Aprons, bibs, curtains, quilts, bags, napkins, table cloths, pillow-covers... the list is endless. Imagine what kind of quilt I can make with those fabrics! It would be even more wild than the one I'm making now.

On Saturday my aunt and mother came up to help me assemble and start to actually quilt my quilt, so it's only a matter of time before I'll be done with this one and need to move on to something else. We got the quilt assembly done (at least to this stage, which is simply connecting all three pieces of the quilt - front, batting, and back), and I actually hand-quilted two squares. Hand quilted! It was truly a miracle. Tell me that this doesn't look like fun and you don't want to do it, too:

First, we taped the back of the quilt to the floor to keep it in place for when we put on top of it the batting (the off-white material) and then the front of the quilt (the layer with all the t-shirts). Then, we pinned all three layers together. See all these pins? We had to make a trip to the craft store to get more of them. It's a big quilt, and we went a little pin happy (but at least we know that the quilt won't shift during the sewing process!). Next we traced a small square into each of the fabric squares. This was truly a family affair, because look who we roped in to help us with the tracing! The small squares are what we are actually going to be hand-quilting, because this is what will keep all three layers of the quilt connected when we unpin the whole thing. My mother, aunt and I are trying to get Doug to help with the hand-quilting process. After all, he wants this thing on the bed as much as I do, and if he wants it on the bed before we're both too old and blind to see it then I think it's only right that he put a thimble on and help. Thimbles are cheap; I'll get another.

But, even if Doug doesn't help, I do have many helpers for the actual quilting process, some more helpful than others. You see me in the background, pulling my needle through the quilt, while Meg lays contentedly and takes a nap. There's something about this quilt that the cats love. Sewing the second square later that night was enough to charm both of the kitties right to sleep. It's going to be a long winter of cats and quilts, that's for sure, but I am looking forward to it. Because I really do plan to make another one (which is just want my mother and aunt want to hear... but at least they'll get a free meal out of any day that they come to help me!). This one can be the summer one, and then I can make another with more subdued, wintery colors. (Ask me how I feel about this thirty squares from now, when I still have forty more to go...) For now, it sounds like a plan.

Quack-quack.

If I were a duck, this past weekend would have been heavenly for me. But maybe not, even. Because we had three days of non-stop heavy rain and wild winds, and maybe the weather would have been too wet for even a duck. All I know is that we had no water in our basement as far as I can tell, thankfully, and the only damage we sustained (again, as far as I can tell) is one of the gutters on our garage falling off. If that's the worst of our damage from this raging storm, then so be it.

But what does one do when the weekend weather is so gross? Well, as mentioned, one hangs out with friends inside a nice, warm building, listening to the nice, soothing sounds of an orchestra. We joined these friends for dinner and a little culture, and we had a fabulous time. Have you ever seen a concert or event in the Great Hall at Faneuil Hall? It's on the second floor, above the room with all the little vendors. It's in the actual Faneuil Hall building, and it's a beautiful, intimate space. Apparently it's where new citizens are naturalized in Massachusetts, and let me tell you, I'd be proud to be an American if I were naturalized in that room.

Other than marveling at the history of Boston and reveling in a little Tchaikovsky, on a rainy weekend one does craft projects, right? Of course! So I made a little more progress on my current undertaking. I'm attempting a t-shirt quilt. I say attempting because I only know how to make two things - bibs and curtains (and even those I don't know if I make well, considering that the only two sets I made I had to cut holes into in order to remedy a mistake) - and a queen-sized quilt seems like quite the advanced sewing project. But let's throw caution to the wind and just try it. I've only got time and money and potentially a finger or two to lose, right? Bring it on.

And while you're at it, bring on the corned beef. Not only was this weekend great for crock pot cooking, but it was great for a little Irish-American cuisine. Doug and I enjoyed our St. Paddy's Day feast on Sunday. It's amazing how good corned beef can taste - so salty! So what if you have to strip each piece free of its sinewy fat before you can dip it in bright yellow mustard and chew it up. It's worth all the mess and all the hassle, because it truly is a treat. It ranks right up there with creamed dried beef in a puff pastry shell, and that's a true delicacy. I'm serious.

Life can get a little cozy when it's raining for three days straight and you have no desire to venture outside. You bond with your couch. You snuggle with your cats. You read, you eat, and you feel a little slow. The sun's back out now, though. Today was a beautiful day, and it should be beautiful all week. This is great news, because it would be terrible to have rain on your birthday, and it's my mom's birthday this week. Her 65th birthday, actually. Maybe she doesn't want you to know that, but I think she should be proud of being 65. She doesn't look 65 and she certainly doesn't act it. I've always said that if I could be like her when I'm her age then I'd be lucky indeed. And I still feel that way. Now I just have to figure out a way to properly celebrate her. I have made plans to do some celebrating with her and my sister (who is also celebrating a milestone this year) in May, but we can't wait until May to celebrate a March birthday. I got a fantastic birthday gift from MVD and Curt this past weekend and I've still got a couple of weeks to go before my birthday, so I've got to do something a little more timely for her. Happy birthday, Mom! I'll think up something good for you, I promise.

Three cats and a little vet (visit).

This past weekend we did something that we haven't done in three years - we took all three cats to the vet at once. Why don't we do this each year, you wonder? Well, it's because Sasha is an absolute terror at the vet and we don't want to deal with it. So we either take her by herself or we just don't bring her at all. This year, to minimize the time we have to spend at the vet, we took all three together. Here are the cats waiting in the lobby of the vet's office. Notice that Sasha is off to the left, all by herself, and that's so she won't disturb the others with her deep, guttural moans of displeasure. Sasha did have to get the gas (When I called to make the appointment I warned them that Sasha was bad, very, very bad, and I was told that in extreme cases the vet can gas the animal to put them temporarily to sleep so that the vet can do the exam, and then the cat will wake right up after the exam. Doug and the vet wanted to try the exam without the gas, and that worked for, oh, I don't know, five minutes, before Sasha started to do her Linda Blair/Exorcist impersonation and had to get the gas.), but they all survived just fine. And when we got home from the vet we had only a short time to readjust to our normal surroundings (Sasha, really) before my mother and brother arrived.

My mom and brother came so that 1) we could see Avatar (I was the only one who had never seen it - Doug saw it once and so did my mother, but my brother had already seen it twice), and 2) so that my mother and I could start on my next sewing project, which will be the subject of another blog post someday. And we did see Avatar, which was a two-thumbs-up movie to watch because of how great the 3-D was but maybe only one-thumb-up for story line, but we also got out into the fresh air. The weather was beautiful all weekend - somewhat warm, and bright and sunny. Everyone enjoyed our walk around Walden Pond - we're smiling! And then after our walk we stopped for lunch in Waltham, where I experimented with continuous mode on my camera. Continuous mode without the flash makes for pretty cool shots.

But, perhaps for the coolest thing all weekend - Wyatt in his new sweater. His Snuggie just doesn't fit him right; he can't walk in it because the leg sleeves are too constricting. It's also just too small for him; he's bigger than we thought. So my mother, who saw the photos of Wyatt with his haircut on this blog, printed out his post-hair cut photos, showed them to my Aunt Alice (the very one who made this stunning display), and requested a homemade sweater for him. So Aunt Alice, ever the expert with the knitting needles, whipped him up that fantastic sweater in about two and a half days. I am absolutely amazed at her abilities, at her creativity, and at her kindness. Because look at him! Does he get any cuter - or warmer - than in that sweater? It's way better than a Snuggie. Doug thinks so, too. He can't keep his hands off the alien baby, who now wears clothes. We always knew Wyatt was cute, but man, in his sweater he's just about irresistible. Thank you, thank you, Aunt Alice! Maybe someday I can knit you a scarf in return. If I start now I should be done for your 70th birthday.

Sewing the seeds of love.

It's Wednesday night, and Wednesday nights are a blank canvas for me. Doug has band practice, which means I can do whatever it is that I want with my evening. Not that this is really any different from any other evening, but there's something very exhilarating about not having to be anywhere, not having to do anything, and not having to conform to a routine. Most Wednesdays I just end up staying later at work than I should, which means I don't get to enjoy the time that I have to myself as much as I would like, but even in these cases I still get a good hour and a half to myself at home. I can sit in the bed and eat popcorn and not get yelled at for eating popcorn in the bed. I can be in the kitchen without having to have sports radio blasting. I can sit on the couch and read my book and not have the TV on. I can do a yoga video. I can do chores. I can not do anything at all. It's such a nice night.

Tonight was one of those nights that I stayed too long at work. Didn't get home here until after 9:30, and am only now getting into the bed with my popcorn. The original intention was to read and eat my popcorn dinner while relaxing in the bed with Wyatt, my bed buddy, but my book still isn't dry (my water bottle spilled in my bag this morning all over my book and magazines), and I hate reading wet books, so I decided to blog. Here I am. Blogging. I love Wednesday nights.

So I actually have a few things to blog about; if you've noticed I haven't been blogging much lately. Not sure why, but maybe just lack of desire? I'm trying to get back into it. Tonight, let's explore the creation of the bibs. Remember the bibs? The craft project that caused me to sew my finger? Despite this minor medical setback, I really enjoyed making them, and really hope to get the sewing machine back out over the next couple of weekends so that I can being on the bibs I'll be making for my cousin's baby. And of course my quilt. I have big plans for me and the sewing machine, thanks to the success of the bibs.

I started to make these bibs in August, but bought the material back in June. I bought way too much material (why did I think that each bib would take one yard of material? What kind of baby were these bibs going to be for, an elephant baby?) so only used about half of it, and in total I made over 30 bibs. Chris and Chris didn't get them all; a couple were so small that they would probably best fit a kitten, and another two I kept for Wyatt. When he's bad I put the bib on him as punishment, and plus it's just funny to see Wyatt wearing stuff (if anyone has seen his chicken hat you'll agree). Anyway, I cut a pile of material for these bibs, and then had to go about sewing them all together.The cutting process took a couple of weeks and the sewing process took a few weeks, too. Then there was the sewing of the Velcro and hammering of the snaps... but how satisfying to have them done! And to have most of them looking pretty good, despite my many, many, many mistakes.

I was so glad to be able to create something that actually looked like it was supposed to look that I had to have everyone in the house model them. First, I put one on Doug.He was extremely happy to wear the bib... made him feel young again. I put one on, too, and even tried to demonstrate what it would look like on a real crying, drooling baby.Don't worry, though - no drool ever touched the bib. The cats, too, were in on the fun. Sasha liked to lay on the finished bibs, so we put one on her:Maybe we should have chosen a smaller one? It's more like a cape than a bib. We put a smaller one on Wyatt. This one might actually be one of the ones that is now his torture device.And then there's Meg. Miss Meggie. Beautiful Meg. No one sported the bib better than Meg.She's such a cool customer.

After making the bibs, I washed them and wrapped them up into a box to give to Chris, Chris, and baby girl chris. I haven't touched the sewing machine in about three weeks. I think I might be going through withdrawal. I miss it! Sewing was fun. Must get more material to make more bibs! Even if no one has any more babies, I might still make these things. I probably could sell them on Etsy, and wouldn't it be cool to know that babies everywhere were puking on my bibs?

I've sewn.

I am posting the below photos to my blog as proof that I actually sewed last weekend. I actually used my sewing machine, as I have always wanted to do, and sewed a curtain for our dining room windows. My fantastically helpful and capable mother helped me learn how to use the sewing machine, but I did do the actual sewing. I now have another project lined up (more curtains), so this is only the beginning. So I'm told. The curtain for the dining room actually came out well, despite my lack of thinking the project through enough to realize that I would have to do something about the bar in the middle of the window. Our curtain rod spans the entire length of the three windows in the dining room, so there's this bar in the middle of the window frames that keeps the curtain rod from sagging. I forgot that I would have to take this bar into account when hanging the curtain on the curtain rod, but thankfully my dear friend Chris suggested that I just cut a hole in the curtain for the bar. Great idea, and problem mostly solved. Now the curtain hangs much better in the middle, enough so that I'm not constantly bothered by the gathering of fabric, and I can say Mission: Accomplished.

Here I am sewing. See? My mother didn't do everything for me. I worked the actual sewing machine. This is good, because I'll need to know how to do it when I make my next curtains all on my own like a big grown-up girl.

This is the final product. The finished work. The completed project. The masterpiece. Don't look too closely at the seams... I haven't learned how to sew in a straight line yet, but I am pleased that I only had to rip the stitches out in a couple of spots. Not too bad for the first time!

The material that I used to make the curtain was a tablecloth. Doug and I had been looking for a simple curtain that would go with our purple room for a while, since we moved in and painted the room, but hadn't found one that was right. I decided that I would just sew one, and I think there are cool tablecloths out there, cool enough to make curtains out of. So I picked up a couple of these (very cheap - clearance!) tablecloths from Target a month or so ago. I have a lot of material left over... perhaps I'll be making matching placemats.

There she blows! This is the beauty that made everything possible. She does a lot more than I'll ever need her to do, and I hope she doesn't ever break. I once had ideas of becoming a quilter, but I might stick to easy things like curtains or simple repair jobs.

Perhaps this weekend I'll have time to start on my next sewing project, but I'm also knitting another scarf (as a birthday gift... the birthday's in a month!). Look at me, so ambitious with craft projects! It's like old times.