my back. oh.
I've started a new sewing project. I've spent almost the past three days coming up with the pattern with coloring pencils and a spiral-bound notebook. I actually called my Dad to ask him how to figure out the length of a square's side if you know the diagonal.
(Do you know? I didn't think so.)
Every way I came up with involved finding a square root. I kept thinking, there is an easier way. I barely finished asking before he told me how. This is what my dad is for.
Meanwhile, I would so love to have a craft table. I have this huge, marvelous cutting mat and rotary cutter (like a pizza cutter, but for fabric) that were my grandmother's, but I have to lay the mat on the floor because I don't have a table. So I spend the whole time hunched over and I get all sore and cranky.
When I called my dad, the supergenius, he and my mom were on their way back to TN from here. I think they were in a Cracker Barrel. Not that that is important. Whatever.
On Saturday, they took John and I to this adorable little kitsch-fest of a town called Solvang. It's Danish. In Lauraspeak, that means "almond-flavored pastries." We had dinner in Santa Barbara, which looks nothing at all like I pictured it. Considering my only concept of Santa Barbara was the bits of the soap opera by the same name that my grandmother (the one that owned the cutting mat) used to watch, that isn't surprising. The show started when I was 3 years old and went off the air by the time I was in sixth grade. I don't even think she watched it that long.
(Do you know? I didn't think so.)
Every way I came up with involved finding a square root. I kept thinking, there is an easier way. I barely finished asking before he told me how. This is what my dad is for.
Meanwhile, I would so love to have a craft table. I have this huge, marvelous cutting mat and rotary cutter (like a pizza cutter, but for fabric) that were my grandmother's, but I have to lay the mat on the floor because I don't have a table. So I spend the whole time hunched over and I get all sore and cranky.
When I called my dad, the supergenius, he and my mom were on their way back to TN from here. I think they were in a Cracker Barrel. Not that that is important. Whatever.
On Saturday, they took John and I to this adorable little kitsch-fest of a town called Solvang. It's Danish. In Lauraspeak, that means "almond-flavored pastries." We had dinner in Santa Barbara, which looks nothing at all like I pictured it. Considering my only concept of Santa Barbara was the bits of the soap opera by the same name that my grandmother (the one that owned the cutting mat) used to watch, that isn't surprising. The show started when I was 3 years old and went off the air by the time I was in sixth grade. I don't even think she watched it that long.
Labels: sewing/crafting.
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