Oh boy. An end-of-bolts sale really feels like the best possible thing. How can one resist when the fabric is discounted once for being almost-gone and then discounted again for being oddly-sized? Let me answer that: one cannot resist. At least not when the one in question is me.
I justified my purchase (we are broke! I am selling shit online in hopes of financing my heroinesque fabric habit! Why can't I lay the &$#% off?) by getting some stuff that I'll use for some kids'upcoming birthday presents. Our 7-year-old niece asked for a yoga mat and I can make her a bag for her yoga mat. Plus there was some really cute stuff with construction equipment, and my nephew does love his diggers.
An aside: the niece belongs to Husband's sister. The nephew is my brother's kid. I call the niece "ours" and the nephew "mine." At first, out of a strange and very noticeable sense of fairness to all the kids on Husband's side of the family, I called my nephew "ours" but that felt funny--didn't thoroughly communicate my L-O-V-E for that little guy--so I changed it. How long until the niece feels like mine and not ours? She's really great and I love her a bunch, so I'm not just fronting when I call her ours, but saying "mine" isn't right yet, either. We will see. If you are reading this for reasons other than mistaken identity, maybe you could chime in? Maybe you appreciate that link to a great fabric sale (even if I did my best to deplete the supplies)?
Maybe there are about 18 billion websites out there and the chances that you stumbled onto this one are astronomical so you aren't reading this? Of course. Please, forgive me.
One of these days I will actually explain in detail why I have a blog if I don't ever tell anyone about it, not even electronically and/or anonymously (like I never post this address when I, however rarely, comment on other sites...)
But I am puffy-eyed and riddled with buyer's remorse this morning, so I'm not going to go into it. I'm going to pour another cup of coffee and take it to my sewing lair and sew like the wind! Or, like I've got a huge bald fat guy with lots of self-inflicted piercings, dressed in leather and a spiked collar, standing over me looking menacing and holding a whip and screaming stuff like "sew or you will get the lash!" and "sew, minion, or we will feed antifreeze to your little dog!"
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I have a similar problem with the niece/nephew thing. My husband has two nieces and a nephew who were already full grown children (as opposed to new little sprouts) when we married. Now they're teenagers and/or adults. I think they're awesome but I don't really feel like I could possibly be their aunt.... to call them 'mine' as in MY nieces and nephew seems bizarrely proprietary... whereas my new little nephew belonging to my brother, no prob... maybe there needs to be a whole new relation definition.
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