Things that go bump in the night

It was 10:30 p.m., and I was sitting at my sewing machine wrapping up the night’s work on the wedding dress. The kids were in bed. The Narrator was out of town for the night for work. Just as I was finishing a seam, I heard a really loud bump. I mean a REALLY LOUD BUMP! It rattled the closed door that was next to me and sounded like it shook the house. I grabbed my cell phone and the most dangerous thing I could think of that I knew how to wield – my gingher sewing scissors with really sharp points. I tiptoed through the house checking on the kids and looking in every closet and corner of the house. My heart was still racing. It was very dark outside, and I don’t ever remember being that scared before. So I did the most logical thing I could think of next. I called my Dad. He was 1,200 miles away. He was in bed.

He answered, “Hello?” With a shaky voice I said, “Um, Hi. Are you in bed?” As if that mattered. He said, “Yes, what’s wrong?” So I proceeded to tell him about the Really Loud Bump. He said, “Why don’t you call a neighbor and have them check the outside of the house? Or the cops if you really think you need to.” Oh a neighbor! What a great idea! Someone close who can actually do something.

I hung up quickly and called the neighbors across the street who I was sure would still be up. Voicemail. I peeked out the window, both their cars were in the driveway. I was still scared. I was still carrying the scissors. I opened my computer and did the next logical thing I could think of. I started instant messaging my father-in-law. He was also over 1,200 miles away. I told him about the Really Loud Bump.

I was still scared and still carrying the scissors, I did the third most logical thing I could think of. I called The Narrator who I was 100% positive was asleep in bed, 1,000 miles away. He answered and I told him about  the Really  Loud Bump. I’m not sure he heard a word I said since I woke him from a deep sleep, but I told him I’d try calling the neighbors again and he said that was a good idea.

I peeked out the window and called the neighbor again and this time she answered. She obviously hadn’t heard my voicemail yet, so I told her about the Really Loud Bump, and I added, “It was on the side of the house with the mystery neighbors!” She replied, “ooooh. I’ll send hubby over right now to walk around the outside of your house.”

Mystery neighbors. The house next door was sold to a “We Buy Houses” sign, or the people behind the sign. A group came in and replaced carpet and the front door and put a For Sale sign in the yard. Then we saw people moving in mattresses and the sign came down. But the realtor’s lock stayed on the front door. And the realty signs are in the back yard. And we never see anyone coming or going or getting their mail. Just lights on at night. We got a package for them this week by mistake and I made The Narrator take it over. No one answered. He left it on the doorstep. It’s the mystery that everyone on our street is talking about.

Neighbor’s husband checked the house while I chatted with her on the phone, peeking out my front window the whole time. He didn’t see anything and said Mystery House was quiet. They told me to call if I needed anything. I promised I would. I checked the kids 15 more times and then decided to sleep on the couch with my cell phone and scissors within my reach. I tossed and turned all night long.

First thing in the morning I texted my Dad to tell him I survived the night. My father-in-law had emailed and instant messaged and I told him too that I survived the night. I went outside and the neighbor asked if everything was ok. I told her we were fine but it was still a mystery as to what made the Really Loud Bump. I did see a palm tree branch by the side of the house. That might have been it.

The Narrator made it home that night and I proceeded to tell him that I thought maybe a palm branch had made the Really Loud Bump. He looked at me funny, and I asked, “Do you remember that I called you at 10:30 last night really freaked out about a Really Loud Bump?” He said, “Oh yeah!” He was obviously out of it when I called, so I laughed and proceeded to re-count for him my logical steps and scissor-carrying night.

My brother called me two days later, “So I heard a Really Loud Bump and I don’t know what to do!” I told him to shut it. Little brothers.

Friday Funnies

We were sitting at dinner when Little Miss Sunshine says to me, “Our house is crooked.”
Me: Crooked? What do you mean?
LMS: Leaning over to one side and tilting her head, “SEE?”
Me: Leaning over to one side and tilting my head, “I guess if you look at it from this angle it is!”

Little Miss Sunshine handed me a block in a bucket and so I started naming off all the words that had “B” in them – block, bucket, brother, boy, baby, bottle, bib, when I asked Little Miss Sunshine if she could think of any words that had the “buh” sound in them. Before she could respond, T-Rex looked at me and said, “Beep! Beep!” He was so proud of himself.

Serger Story

The night before I went to my serger class at the sewing expo I moaned to The Narrator, “I just know this class is going to make me want a new serger.” He replied, “That’s a given!!”

I got my old serger about a year and a half ago used for $50. It’s what you call a “workhorse,” which is a nice name for a sturdy old metal machine that can work hard, but not do anything other than the very, very basics. If all I ever wanted to make was pajama pants and tote bags it would be perfect.

The class had been labeled with a subtitle of “tricks that will work with any serger.” Except for mine, of course. About half the things I wouldn’t be able to replicate at home because there’s a standard feature on machines made today that mine, one of the first ever made, did not have. If it hadn’t been something so useful as easing in a sleeve cap, or making piping in a snap, or making ruffles in 1 step instead of 5 painful steps – I wouldn’t have cared. But I cared. Because I realized I could be doing 90% of my sewing on a good serger and it would look nicer, more professional and take half as much time (or less).

What I also didn’t expect in class was to discover that all the machines used in the classrooms at the expo would be for sale, sold as new with warranty and classes, but at a really really big discount – like 2/3 of the price of a new machine. I’d been looking at machines for a couple years and knew it was a brand I could trust (same brand as my sewing machine, and same as my Mom’s serger). I’d also sewn on my Mom’s machine a few times – same machine, but one step down, and I knew I liked it.

So I went home and talked to The Narrator. We slept on it. Then we talked some more. Then he cut me a deal. He told me that if I could come up with half the cash on my own he’d take care of the other half. Now lest you think we have separate money, we don’t. I just happen to have some ongoing side gigs right now. So I sat down with my calculator and realized it was a done deal. In “the bag.” He told me to go ahead.

Before I headed back to the expo I began to question. A machine like this is a big comittment. I had no doubt I’d recoup my money spent within a year not to mention all the side jobs I keep getting would probably repay the cost within a year as well. But just because you can doesn’t always mean you should. As in most cases, there are half a dozen places you can put your money, is this the right place at this time? So, I started asking and double checking with The Narrator. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t being selfish and just wanting a new toy. He replied with one of the nicest compliments ever.

“I don’t want this to sound bad, because I mean it in the best way possible. I view this purchase as a household appliance. This is necessary for you to do your job and do it well. Not that I view being wife and mom as a ‘job’ but in a way it is. And you need the best tools you can get to do your job well. I love that we have this sort of 1950′s way of living in that you sew and cook and stay home with the kids. I love that you’ve put your touch all over our house with your machines, not to mention the money it saves, but also the way it personalizes our life.”

Wow. That meant the world to me. As we were standing in the living room having that conversation, out of the corner of my eye I could see the curtains in the dining room, the kitchen curtains, new curtains on the sliding doors, another curtain in the family room (we have a pretty open floor plan) and the jacket I was wearing – all things I had crafted on my machines.

So I went forth and purchased. Friday night I have the first class to learn how to use it, which is perfect timing, because I need to get cranking on this wedding dress next week. If I can find the charger to my camera I’ll post some pics in the near future of projects. I’ve done one quick thing on it already with a trick from the class. As for my old serger, a local friend that I’ve been teaching to sew over the past couple years, who only wants to make pajama pants and bags , is buying it from me.

Wedding worries

I had a very crazy dream last night last night. I haven’t been sleeping well for a few weeks and my dreams are getting quite bizarre.

I’m making a friend’s dress for her wedding. That’s not a dream, that is reality. It’s the biggest sewing project I’ve ever done. And even though it’s not a full-blown white Cinderella gown (it’s classic and pretty and pink), it’s still a VERY important day for her and she will be photographed a lot in this dress. If it doesn’t look good, people will know that I’M TO BLAME!!! IT WILL FOREVER BE MY FAULT! I’m a bit nervous. I feel a tad like the designers on project runway, and I’m really under the Gunn, I mean gun. At least I have a new serger to help the project go along better. Ahem. That’s not a dream either…um…back to the story.

So, last night I put off cutting it out because I was tired and groggy and I went to bed instead. And all night long I dreamt about wedding dresses. Some person that I don’t even know in real life, just a dream person had a friend (another dream person) who was getting re-married and wanted to wear her original wedding dress, but didn’t want it to look like her original wedding dress. She wanted me to re-make her original gown. We were on a beach for some reason when she brought me her original wedding gown and told me to add 40 YARDS of fabric to the skirt. FORTY YARDS. I kept thinking to myself, this dress is going to be huge, it’s going to be enormous, it’s going to fill the whole room, I’ve never even worked with 40 yards of fabric at one time, will it even fit in my sewing corner? It was completely and totally random.

I woke up quite unrested and determined that I had to cut out the muslin dress today and get started on it so I would feel more confident about my skills for this project. And so, it is cut out and ready to be sewn tomorrow.

And now, let’s hope I don’t dream about 40 yards of fabric tonight. I mean, I love fabric, but not that much all at once!!!

Over.Load

Brain. Over. Load. Can’t. Think. Straight.

The whole coveting thing? Yeah. Didn’t work. I’ll just leave it at that.

I can’t even begin to tell you how funny I thought it was that the 6th World Congress on the Aging Male was held at the same time as the Original Sewing and Quilting Expo. The hallways were filled with old men falling asleep over newspapers and old women knitting and crocheting. For some reason I found that to be so ironic. And funny.

I was the youngest person I saw all day on Friday. I got a lot of nice smiles and even a hug from one instructor who upon talking about something from 1974 and then asked to make sure we were all born by 1974 and I had to sheepishly raise my hand and admit that NO, I had not been born yet in 1974,  gave me a hug and said she was so glad I was there because sewing is a dying art and those who have been sewing for 50 years are so sad and so forth.

I never realized that if you joined the American Sewing Guild you got a discount at JoAnns. I will be joining. I’ll even participate in the local meetings. The local area president was showing off everything in the booth (I met her over dinner). She wants me to join. Bus trips where I’m the youngest person by 30 years will be FUN! I’m serious. I love that.

Now I need to put my fusible thread and shrinking thread away and find a home for all these zippers that were $.10. And the 5 yards of elastic for $1. I’m so tired, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep because my brain is whirring with ruching ribbon and curves and darts and draping and sewing on the bias and…..

Thou shalt not covet

Dear bloggy friends pray for me tomorrow that I will resist the ever-present temptation to covet and will instead practice the discipline of contentment! I’m headed to a big sewing expo in town this week and will be taking lots of fun classes packing my brain full of new tips and tricks that I’ll be anxious to try out. Tomorrow I’ll be spending three hours hunched over a shiny new serger while I learn “super slick serger tricks!” While I’m ruffling and rouching, it will be tempting to want to figure out a way to take the nice borrowed class serger home as opposed to being thankful for the durable, sturdy workhorse that sits waiting for me on my work space. Sigh.

So if you don’t hear from me much this week, know that I’m draping, pinning, ruffling, and rouching to my heart’s content and until my brain can’t hold any more new information.

Beach season begins

Thank you, Mr. Presidents for having a birthday so we can have a family beach day in the middle of February!!

There’s something ceremonious about the first beach day of the season. Digging the bag full of buckets and shovels and sand toys out of the garage and dusting them off. Checking the stock of sunscreen. Pulling the clearance tagged swimsuits out of the closet and seeing if I guessed the sizes correctly (score!). Loading the trunk for the first time this year. Ah. Spring is here.

The kids sensed the excitement and could barely contain themselves. T-Rex kept pulling the sunscreen out of the bag and running around to everyone and shaking the bottle on them saying, “ssssss.” Little Miss Sunshine couldn’t decide whether to wear the water wings or the water shoes, until I told her she could wear both. “Can we build sandcastles?” Most certainly, sweetie.

We made the drive down to Grandma’s, and the kids barely survived lunch and getting changed into swimsuits and slathered with sunscreen. “We have to wear lotion, Grandma. The sun is dangerous!”

Finally! The soft, white, sugary sand between our toes. The breeze in our hair. The waves beating the shore. Shovels and buckets spread across the sand. Sand flying in the air and piling by our feet.  New friends who share their beach toys. Smiles every where. Quite possibly a perfect, family day. Sweet little heads were asleep before their heads hit the pillow.

I can tell it’s going to be a good beach season.

The Kitchen Symphony

There are moments in my career as wife/mama/home manager/housekeeper where everything comes together, and when everything and everyone behaves as it should. It’s almost as if I get a teeny, tiny glimpse of what life might have been like without an Original Sin (except that the butter and sugar are still bad for me). It’s as if I’m the conductor of a grand symphony performing a beautiful masterpiece, directing each movement with ease. I enjoy the performances as they come, knowing they only last for a moment.

Tonight’s performance was one such night.

8:00 p.m. Tap, tap, tap. I, the conductor, tap my wand on the counter. The audience is hushed. The children are in bed. I take a deep breath and begin to move.

Tonight’s requested performance: “Baking for the next-door-neighbor.”

First Movement – Bake birthday cake for next-door-neighbor’s visiting nephew.

The oven preheats as the mixer sings a sweet song of confection. I move to the counter greasing two nine-inch round cake pans smiling and humming along to the music. Beep, beep. The oven is ready just as the mixer diminuendos. The batter flows into the pans, followed by a brief interlude of dish washing.

Second Movement – Bake batch of spritz cookies that next-door-neighbor fell in love with on Valentine’s Day.

The oven is humming a low tune; the mixer joins in duet with a higher harmony. Thunk, thunk, the thick cookie batter provides the rhythm. In perfect timing, the cake rises to its crescendo, and cookies are ready to join the chorus of the oven. The members of the symphony perform in unison flowing in and out of each movement with legato. Another brief interlude of dishwashing ensues.

Third Movement – Make buttercream icing and decorate the cake.

Swish, swish, the knife glides over the cake and frosting in grazioso. A little touch here, a little touch there, and a playful medley develops over brown and green frosting.

Finale – Delivery to the critics.

I move with grandioso across the yard and am greeted with smiling faces and rave reviews.

“When I first tasted these cookies I thought for sure they must have come from a bakery! They are so delicious and BEAUTIFUL!”

“The cake is so much better than Publix. Can I give you a kiss?”

Encore – Final Cleanup.

I smile and hum as the final few dishes are cleared and put away. 10:30 p.m. A flawless performance with rave reviews. I nod my head to the Composer. I know He was smiling and tapping His toes to the music as well. He had to have been. There’s no way I could have pulled it off without Him sitting on the front row.

My magical world

I live in a magical world. I put a small white box on my head, and I transform into a singing, dancing pirate. My trusty little companions and I set sail in a cardboard box on the high seas fending off alligators with a kitchen spoon. When our boat takes on water, we swim safely to shore. Our box magically transformed into a forest and we raced through as quickly as possible. I was a giant and the forest trapped me but my trusty little companions pulled me to the safety of the castle grounds. We turned around and our box had turned into a fort and we crawled in to escape the mighty dinosaurs. But then we blinked and the fort had turned into a fence and we had morphed into puppies! First we were nice little puppies but then the mighty Spider Man came and growled at us and his web turned us into mean, growling puppies. The fence fell flat and turned into a sidewalk perfect for dancing and singing for a local street party filled with donuts and cookies and cupcakes. When I got a belly ache from eating too many sweets my companions converted the sidewalk to a hospital bed and fixed my belly ache. We then returned to our dancing and singing and then curled up under the cardboard sleeping bag to rest from our day full of adventure. Not even the box knows what adventures tomorrow will hold.

I am a Mama. My world is endless and magical. My companions are some of the most creative I have ever met.

Friday Funnies

Every night while I am helping Little Miss Sunshine get into bed she looks at me and says, “Mama, you need to get all jammied!” I love it. If I ever market my own line of pajamas that will totally be my slogan. “Get all jammied.”

T-Rex LOVES to be tickled. So much so, in fact, that if no one else will do it, he’ll tickle himself. He yanks his socks off and tickles his toes even making a sound close to “tickle, tickle tickle!”

My father-in-law asked me last week if T-Rex really meant T-Wrecks. He has three boys. I don’t even want to know how many things got broken in that house.

The Narrator sent me a text message the other day warning me that there was a T warning out for our area. I had just told him that T-Rex was getting more teeth and how unhappy he was about that. I replied back to his text about the T warning asking him if he was sure he wanted to come home. He replied, “That was Tornado warning, not T-Rex warning.” lol.