It’s Crockett Science

Brett got a new toy.

And he’s obsessed with it.

The other morning I was in doing my hair and heard funny clicking noises coming from the living room. I go out to find him still in his underwear shooting at make believe stuff on the ground and making exploding noises! We’re supposed to be getting ready for work! I think he’d sleep with it if I let him.

Disclaimer: I know a gun is not a toy. And he hasn’t even loaded the thing once yet so don’t think he runs around with live ammo and a gun strapped to his chest like a fundamentalist from Idaho. But he might just love that thing more than Maggie.

1. Brett knows more about sewing than I do. He’ll probably be annoyed I told everyone but he has quite the mad set of sewing machine skills. I couldn’t even thread the needle without him! And he really loves to rub it in my face.

2. I am SO in over my head. I spent two hours in the store and walked out with no thread. THREAD! How do you sew without thread? I cut out the pattern wrong and had to tape it all back together. I didn’t buy enough fabric and had to go back to the store. Then there was the whole threading the needle thing that we’ll pretend didn’t happen. And then I think I spent more time unpicking my stitches than actually making the stitches to begin with. I have a whole gaggle of stuff to learn and a whole lot more unpicking in my future I’m afraid. I think the pillow I tried turned out pretty good for my first time on a machine in a decade but that’s only cause you can’t see my uneven seams. On to the next project…

And if you’re interested you should really check out the graphic fabric prints by Amy Butler. They fill me with some very whimsical daydreams of projects that are so out of my comfort level.

I think I was about seven years old when my mom signed me up for sewing lessons. I have specific memories of “sewing” way too many circles and squares on the machine using only the unthreaded needle to poke holes in the paper. In the end, I made a pillow for my bed that was black with little pink flowers all over it. And the seams came out within six months leaving my hair and my bed filled with clumps of staticky, poofy stuffing. It’s safe to say I didn’t stick with it.

So I’m sure it’s a little odd that Brett got me THIS for Christmas last year. And I actually ASKED for it:

For some reason, I got it into my head that I was gonna learn to sew! And I was gonna teach myself! It might be the hormones….

I really have NO IDEA where this whim came from. I have ZERO inclination or talent to be crafty or creative. (Shocking considering who my mother is.) But I kinda felt like I needed to develop my domestic skills. Basically it came down to two things: 1. it might come in handy and 2. I’m so obsessed with clothes I better learn to make my own.

So you can all laugh to yourselves right now while you picture me using Google to try to figure out how to thread a bobbin and making myself jump everytime I bump the foot-peddle/throttle?/thing.

This is my guide:

Does this look terrifying to anyone else?

Don’t worry I’ll be sure to document the human and textile disasters along the way.

Okay. Quick update.

The upstairs neighbor?

She’s vacuuming right now. Which is awesome because it means she won’t be doing it at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning!

However…

This is the FOURTH time she has vacuumed this week.

And it’s only Friday!

I’ll be the one to say it. Her house is WAY cleaner than mine.

While WhittneyLynn is asleep and I can get away with it, I thought I should let her readers know something she probably won’t come right out and say. Probably one more item she’ll add to her list of “Things I Can’t Stand.”

Saturday morning, I was quietly clipping my toenails when Whittney decided to get involved.

“You’re not doing it right” she quipped.

“I’ve been doing it this way for over 20 years and never had any major disasters,” I said.

“Well you’re still not doing it right, and that’s why you’re always scratching me with your toes.”

I’ll admit she’s got a better handle on this cosmetic-type stuff than I do, and i was definitely interested to see how may different ways there could be to use a pair of toenail clippers, so I handed them over to let her show me the “right way.”

Apparently the proper procedure dictates prying the nail apart from the toe and jamming the clippers as near as you can get up to the bones in your toes. Not entirely comfortable, but it seemed effective.

She went from one toe to the next, correctly clipping, and looking rather satisfied at her work when suddenly her face lost all expression. Without looking up, for a split-second, she stared straight forward and then blew a chunk of toenail out her mouth and across the room.

Honestly, I’ve never seen anything in my life as funny as the expression (or complete lack thereof) on her face as a piece of my toenail shot into her mouth and immediately spat back out and ricocheted off the wall. Reading about it doesn’t do the story nearly the justice it deserves, but I thought it was important to get it out there. It made my weekend.

Thanks Whittney. And please be sure to brush your teeth.

1. Blow drying my hair.
2. Being asked if I am pregnant. I AM. NOT.
3. The neighbors upstairs. (Must you really vacuum at 7 am on Saturdays?)
4. Fruit. Weird I know but at least Brett doesn’t like it either.
5. Spiders.  (Like this one)
6. Trying to sleep with a stuffy nose.  You just can’t breathe!
7. Having my feet touched. 
8. Old people drivers. Anyone with a cadillac boat should NOT be allowed to drive.
9. The neighbors upstairs. (Are you really asking me to turn down Guitar Hero at 7 pm on a Friday?)
10. Being cold. I wish summer were permanent.