Good thing no one reads this, or else my readers would feel shorted. It's been a week, and I have posted nothing. And this post will be short. Showt, if you don't mind--Husband just explained that a showty's a girl, even if she's tall.

Anyway, it's been a good week. I'm taking a sewing class next Saturday. Cooked some shrimp scampi and individual pizzas, started running like I meant it...

Tonight we played euchre and cracked up with our friends...we're watching Knocked Up on cable. Husband wants a cookie. Gonna go get it. Promise to be better blogger next week. Superpromise.

On Timing

Happy Friday!

So far, my night has been spent on the phone with my maid of honor, J. I was multi-tasking! Roasting a chicken, smoking (bad girl. bad.) a cigarette, drinking wine, and not paying enough attention to the chicken-roasting recipe. It was Ms. Julia Childs', and while I am loathe to disrespect her ladyship by drinking and smoking and having psychologically significant conversations while loosely following her master recipe for a roasted chicken, it has been a nearly-perfect evening. And the chicken looks OK! Unfortunately, I underestimated the tiny potatoes I bought to serve with the chicken, and my timing is a complete failure. Luckily, my music-mad husband bought himself the commemorative edition of Paul's Boutique today, so he's been happily wallowing in Beastie Boys worship while I fucked around in our tiny kitchen. Dear (nonexistant) reader, I do hate to flaunt it, but holy shit is my life tits.*
Anyway, the phone call's over, the chicken's out of the oven (oh my, I cooked it in a cast iron skillet after months of pining for a roasting pan. Got the pan, used it once, grasped the basics of roasting meat and haven't looked back--tried everything else for roasting and so far nothing has really let me down. Granted, I haven't eaten more than a bite of chicken, but I have nearly a bottle's worth of red wine in me, inspiring much poultry-related confidence.) Oh--but the potatoes are still quite raw. And the asparagus: not even in the oven yet. If timing is everything, I have nothing. But I would have to take issue with anyone who made such a claim. 'Cause I've got a tits husband, an outrageously insightful best friend, a dog who deserves to be famous, and two whole days to enjoy myself before anybody has to go back to work.
Happy weekend! Make it matter...

*For some time, I've been trying to incorporate "tits" into my personal lexicon: does calling something tits not say it all? I feel like it celebrates everything, from Betty Page to fucking Judith Butler. Who among us does not love tits? Unfortunately, it is really not OK to use this turn of phrase in everyday life (my everyday life, anyway), so it is relegated to my unread blog. Sigh.

Good advice, badly relayed

this will say "happy birthday" to my aunt and be part of the pillow's border

(Having gotten the adolescent disclaimer out of the way, I'll now post something legitimate.)
In an attempt to get myself to use the sewing machine, I have embarked on a project that has a deadline. My aunt is turning 70 this weekend, and my cousins are throwing a surprise party for her. She is the craftiest woman I've ever known, a great and frequent presence at church bazzarres--a fearless seamstress, quilter, jam-maker, project-finder...You get the picture. It was she who advised me on my sewing machine purchase. When I called her for advice, I thought she'd say "Oh, Singer's a good brand" and I'd be off to make a purchase.
That is not what happened. She has devised some very specific and extremely helpful criteria for buying a sewing machine*, and when she shared it with me I knew I was in the right hands. In the end (which came really quickly after the beginning, as I was chomping at the bit to buy a machine), she actually did the research and picked out my machine for me. It is a Husqvarna Emerald 116, and it does not kid around. Or, it doesn't look like it kids around. Haven't we established its current position as loyal dust-collector?
Anyway, I figured my aunt loves me, so she won't mind if the pillow I make for her is an unmitigated disaster. So today I'm embroidering a pretty scene to include in the pillow, and I'm listening to Neutral Milk Hotel, and I'm feeling like I'm on the right track... Will post photos of the process if I can find the camera.

*She said you must listen to the sewing machine. The motor should hum and the needle's action should be smooth rather than clacking. Of course, she would say it better, and she did. But that was several months ago and in the intervening time I've tried to forget I even own a sewing machine (too much lazy-girl guilt). Here's what I will do: pull her aside at her birthday party and ask her to repeat her sewing machine criteria once more. Then I will publish it in my totally unread blog. So that no one can read it. This is weird, like being invisible. But I do think I'll get brave soon and tell people about my new blog.

Pathetic disclaimer

I'm trying this without telling anyone else I'm doing it! And I have my reasons...
Reasons for trying it:

• My beautiful, expensive sewing machine has never even had thread in it. It's shameful. I've owned it for nearly two months but all it's doing is collecting dust. I think a little external motivation, in the form of an online community, might help me get started--and keep me going.
• I've been stalking craft websites for the last week, admiring and coveting and feeling like I want badly to be a part of that community. Everyone seems to be overflowing with ideas and initiative and resourcefulness. And--and--they (you?) are supportive and positive, two more qualities I look for in a person.
  
• I've been doing crewel embroidery for several months, and while my husband is terrifically supportive, I don't know if he's really capable of admiring my painstaking work the way I want him to. I want someone who knows what they're talking about (and isn't my mom, bless her heart...) to see my work and say "wow--that looks great. Have you thought about a blanket stitch..."
  

Those are my reasons so far, for starting this.
Here are my reasons for keeping it to myself at the moment:

• What if it's totally lame? This reason also goes by the name "I feel unbearably exposed and self-conscious when I think about everyone with an internet connection being privy to my every crafty endeavor."
• I can't help it: I feel like it's presumptuous to assume that anyone would be interested in my projects. I'm just a flawed, beginning embroiderer/sewing machine-user. (I have to much respect for seamstresses to call myself one, and when I tried calling myself a "sewer," obvious problems ensued.)
• I love to read other people's blogs, especially the crafty ones. Call it an absurd inferiority complex, but I just can't see myself as one of those sparkly girls--the worlds they inhabit are so gracious and tidy (and if they aren't tidy, they seem stylishly messy. No stove spunk or dog hair-coated sofas and sweatpants...) See, I'm pretty sloppy and I'm pretty lazy, and I'm very new to this. Jesus, and after reading over this post, I can tell it goes without saying that I'm dangerously neurotic. Clearly this has been little more than an attempt to lower expectations and predict/deflect any criticism by disclaiming everything.
  

Shame on me. On with the experiment...