Oui oui!

(That's pronounced wee wee to anyone who does not know French...) I am feeling very French today thanks to my fashion forward blunt banged bob and my linen pencil skirt I got from Italy last summer. I topped it off (literally) with a black silk blouse with a bow at the bosom and a cream silk/cotton cardigan with a scoop neck and mother of pearl buttons. Ok, so one of my favorite web bloopers of all times is this one found on a Janome sewing machine forum where a customer suggested a very interesting technique:

"I love to butthole appliqué on the 6600 . Try using #39 in mode 2."

I think about that sometimes when I sew and wish that my Brother sewing machine had a similar feature.


What is love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more. I miss Baby, Lois' little tyke. I think that I'm going to be a really good mom. Number 1, because I actually like and want kids, number 2, because I remember sometimes what its like to think like a little kid and thus can direct children to correct thinking through some of the same processes that I've found helpful in growing up, and number 3, 'cause I'm freakin' awesome. All I'm sayin' is that I will NOT marry somebody who doesn't share most or all of the same characteristics that I've just described.

I guess if I were a mom now I'd probably have lots to write about cute little things my kids do or the crazy whacked out crap that my teenagers would be up to, but I don't and you just can't make that stuff up. So what do I have to write about instead? Maybe I'll write about some of the things I know my mom encountered. Ha, I think Katie was the best worst child. Mummy used to do Mary Kay (I remember the big pink kit she used to have) and there was definitely an incriminating picture of little Tatty looking up with a nonchalant expression. Dark blue painted on eyebrows, bright red lips a la clown makeup, and various other shades and hues were spread across her 4-year-old little cheeks. I mostly remember the navy unibrow. Then of course there were other pictures of her wearing nothing but showing off a fabulous straw hat to the photographer. She was smart enough as a 5 year-old to cut up those pictures including the negatives.

I'm sure there's other things that I could pull up, although most of the others would be about my brothers which included much less girly stuff like clothes (or lack thereof) and makeup and much more blood. My brothers are so cute though, I've been so completely amazed to see them grow up. One of my favorite memories is was the like one time Richard threw a tantrum about a certain unmentionable. He must have been like 3 or 4 and have just gotten potty trained. I had received The Little Mermaid a year or two earlier and he and his younger brothers practically wore the thing out by watching it every second of the day. The tantrum in question was about the undies, he would refuse to wear any underwear unless they were Little Mermaid underwear. My mom was very clever, and because there was no such thing as little boy Little Mermaid underwear, for the first year of potty training little Woesherd, as we called him, wore girls panties. Because he would want to proudly show them off, unwilling to hide the miniature Ariels and Flounders under pants or jeans, when he needed some sturdy footwear he would pull on his black cowboy boots. Tromping around in that get up always made him happy. And now I am passing on the memory to all of our progeny.

There was that time when Boefer (Danny) was so little and Mom and Dad went to a football game in like Yakima or something. I honestly don't remember what I was doing, but at one point during the evening on of boys came in with a towel with blood on it saying that something was wrong with Danny. I walk into the laundry room and there he is sitting on the floor looking up at me with huge surprised/frightened eyes, sharp cat food lid in one hand, blood all over his little foot. I was freaked. After calling my Mia Maids teacher and getting to the ER (first time in my memory of doing so), the little baby had to get a bunch of stitches and we called his little tootsies "franken-toes" for the rest of his little baby life. Oh, I miss baby brothers, they're all taller than me now. But they still wouldn't dare to piss me off....:)