Old threads
Three ways that phrase has snuck into my week
Blouse I am trying to revive:
I would pay way too much money for someone to make me 5 more. Same sewing pattern, many colors or prints. Same buttons maybe. It’s Rayon that feels and breathes like cotton and has a unique and flattering neckline. Poofy sleeves that are not obnoxious.
I have worn this thrift store find into coming undone. I have learned to patiently mend rolled seams and button loops. I have searched online to find more and not found it in good condition or in my size. For now, I count myself lucky to have this one, now. I am a bit more tender with it now that I have sewn it and handled the fragile parts. The threads are not made to last, I get that. I also wash things too often.
*Subnote: my life used to be endless laundry and most of it was from my ex. 3-4 towels a day left on the muddy floor, 3 full outfits and one was farm work clothes. Plus two in CLOTH diapers. Three farm kids who lived to get dirty dirty and play hard. AND he could not “abide” me running the washer at night (after 6pm, 2nd floor by the bedrooms) and then could not allow the dryer to be used at all, not when there’s a perfectly good clothesline downstairs and across the yard. This nightmare ended when the marriage did. Though still raising three play hard outside kids, suddenly laundry was manageable. Now I think I run loads just to feel free. Silly and a threat to my favorite shirt.
Old text thread I am hanging onto:
I went looking for a novel idea I had texted a friend. I found it, 15 some pages I cut and saved in a google doc. 15 pages of the two of us going back and forth encouraging each other and discussing our lives as parents of medical kids in frenzied hard to follow Gilmore girls kind of way. We did that for years. And then we didn’t. It left a hole in my life that I didn’t expect to hurt more than anything I have ever experienced. She accused me of never supporting her writing, but this tucked away thread is proof of otherwise. She was my biggest fan and I was hers. A lot of things I do for friends, I do without bragging or telling them. Random gifts, matchmaking creatives, sending new customers, writing reviews. I don’t brag it out, I barely brag my own accomplishments. I was also told that I emotionally vomit and bleed all over everyone. When someone asks, “How are you?”….don’t they want to know? Actually, no they don’t.
That’s why people talk about the weather. We are leaving hurricane season. The floods have already come and gone. I’ll add to my playlist.
Hanging by a thread
I feel like this taxidermy trash panda. Trying to glam up while holding on to a dead limb mounted in a very public space. I am climbing back into the writing groove, about to celebrate my new book in public. It was released on Kindle today, finally. The hardcover and softcovers look great too. https://a.co/d/hWPGmMd (no reviews yet….) Just waiting for trolls. Ha. IYKYK. Icky.
Playlist for hurricane season (from previous stack):
