Pumpkins and Posers

I am a creator. I sew. I paint. I cut vinyl with my super-cool cricut and make cool snazzy things. I turn non-writers into authors (at least of essays).

Rarely do I have the misfortune of being bested by one of my creations. Maybe bested is not the right word. Attacked? Ambushed? Smothered and suffocated? I don't know. Anyway, here goes:

First, the pumpkins.

In the sewn category, there have been 2354 pumpkin shirts and outfits leave the Den of Stitches. That may be slightly exaggerated. But I'm sure at least fifty are ready to wear by little girls all over this area. Such a cute outfit too. You see why everybody would want one :)

Let me just say it has been a valiant effort to fulfill all these orders. I have bought every piece of orange and white fabric from Orange Beach to Birmingham. Who knew orange was a SPRING fabric and no more could be ordered!! Am I the only one who associates orange with fall???? Oh, well.  I am now to the point that I can offer to do shirts only...there just isn't enough fabric for pants. But that's good, right? That's what Robbie always asks me.

And then the tutus. Lord, at the tutus! I had to get Vicki and Grace to spend the night and help me! But these tutus were not for children...nope, no ballerinas in this bunch. These were all GROWN women who were dressing up for the run they sponsored. As one of the participants put it, "Nothing says I'm a serious runner quite  like a tutu." What fun! How cute!

Finally (and this is where I was held hostage by one of my own creations)--the poser. My niece Karissa is a budding photographer. She is not only learning to take sonographic (is that even a word?) pictures of a person's insides in school, but she also has her own photography business that is growing...and growing...and growing. But that's good, right?

So anyway, back in the summer she sent me a picture of a photography poser and asked if I could make one for less than the advertised $75. Ummm...yeah. So I searched the stores until I found a remnant of a vinyl/leather-like fabric (to be easily cleaned if wee ones have accidents) and put it aside. Then last weekend I decided to "clean out" some stuff that had been hanging around, stressing me with its not-done-ness.. I know, I know...not a word...

I should have had someone (a photgrapher, maybe?) taking pictures of this whole experience. First I laid the fabric/wild animal (it acted like one) on the floor. I taped a ribbon to a marker so that I could make a perfect circle, and I drew it off. Let me just say I was quite proud of myself. Cutting it out was not problem, and neither was the cutting of the band to separate the top and bottom. Karissa is going to fill this thing up with those little beads that go in bean bags, so it needed some expansion room and a zipper. Next, off to the sewing machine...and the relationship between me and the THING turned ugly.

Most things I sew are docile and yielding. They squish and gather and can be easily compacted. But not the poser. Oh, no. Here I was, at the machine, with the poser fighing me, trying to slip away, and, when that didn't work, attacking me!! I kid you not, the poser tried to kill me!  I was hunkered over the machine , sewing away, fighting to keep the thing under the machine and sew in a circle, when the part I was not sewing curled up and came over my head!

I can just imagine the headline: Female Seamstress Smothered by  a Poser

It would make for interesting reading, don't you think?

Anyway, I got it done--even got a zipper in the band (no small feat, let me tell you). And I sent it on its happy way to the new owner. Loving feedback as I do, I waited to hear from her...and waited...and waited. Fearing that the thing might have tried to take her out too, I sent a message asking if it worked. Her response: "It's still in the truck."

Hope it doesn't try to attack her when she opens the door...

Pioneer Woman of the South...NOT!

I am directionally challenged.

Truly this statement is a huge step...I'm bowing to my flaw. It's a pretty serious one, in fact. I have always been amazed at how other people (men, usually) can just sort of pick a road or a turn, guessing about where it comes out, and they always remember the way back out. Imagine all those pioneers of old just hooking up the horse and wagon and leaving...no maps.Amazing!

That, alas, is not me.

(As a side note, I should mention that this deficit in the gene pool has been passed on to Lauren. We cannot go anywhere without making at least one -usually several more- "U-ies." )

So you can imagine my elation when, not so many years ago, I gained through the internet the ability to print out a map with step-by-step directions to anywhere. WONDERFUL!! But what if there was a detour? Road work? A traffic accident? Heaven forbid.

Then along came gps systems for the car. Hallelujah!! A device that TALKS to the driver, recalculates if a turn is missed or blocked...could life get any better?

Maybe. Just maybe.

Saturday my uncle was taken by helicopter to the hospital in Dothan and I took Mama to be there for the surgery. We are a close-knit family and like to be together in times of trouble. There was no question that we would go. I looked up the address on the internet and printed it out. Then I got Lauren's gps (which she rarely uses until she has already had to make one u-turn) and programmed it. I was double armed. Finally, I consulted with Robbie about the way to go. He said, "Don't you remember when we used to go to Ashford?" Ummm - yeah. From LUVERNE. Through TROY. Oh well. Off we went.

At first, everything was fine. The directions were easy to follow (written and spoken), and Mama had been part of the way before and remembered it. AND THEN...Miss GPS said (in a very sultry voice), "In one-half mile, take the exit left." So I did. And then she said (still sultry), "Please make a U turn." What??? Mama and I just looked at each other! I didn't U turn, but she (Isn't kind of weird to refer to her as if she is a bitty bitty person LIVING inside the screen. Think she gets a kick out of giving people heart attacks?) got me turned around and to the hospital. I felt so accomplished.

After surgery was done and everyone began to leave, I once again depended on another source. Casey knew some of the way because of going down to see Teri. But after a while, she called and said her Verizon gps on her phone was "going stupid." So I turned mine on (I had just hit Take Me Home) and got in front. And drove. And drove. And drove. We saw NOTHING we remembered. Not a single familiar site. At one point, on a road with no turns, the demon from the screen said, "Make a left turn now." Where? Into the pasture? So I stayed straight, and eventually we came out in Elba and Brantley. Keep in mind that we did not even come CLOSE to those towns on the way down.

So I don't know. Maybe I'm not as directionally challenged as I think. Maybe it's a conspiracy between Google Maps and the GPS industry. Maybe I'm just supposed to stay home. Maybe there's a lesson I'm supposed to learn. Something like...hmm...IT'S NOT ABOUT HOW YOU GET THERE, BUT THAT YOU DO--EVENTUALLY.