The Other Smock

This smock wasn't my favorite of the two I recently made from men's shirts. Partly because it made me look a tiny bit pregnant. I already look kind of pregnant so I don't want to emphasize this fecund appearance. But partly it wasn't my favorite because I'm new to making my own appliques and I'm disappointed that my hen doesn't look more like a hen.

I wish I could completely attire Headless Helen in the appropriate corresponding outfit, then you could see how charming this smock is in my head. Although, if you could see inside my head you'd be able to see other things too which I'm not very comfortable with. Like the image of me permanently shackling Paris Hilton to her prison cell.

(Supposedly she's said she has "nothing left to live for". Is she fucking kidding? Why?, because she only has to spend a measly 45 days in prison for a DUI? If she did say this, and I'm not saying I automatically believe she could have said such a ridiculous thing, then she is much more stupid, spoiled, and childish than I thought was even humanly possible. Now you see the image of me bitch slapping her. You understand why I'm so uncomfortable with you in my head? Go on, get out before you get really scared!)

I could have made the smock functionally button down the front like I did with the other one. However, the classic element of a smock is it's easy removal. Not to go roll in the hay with your beau at a second's notice, but to enable to you rip off that smudgy smock to answer the door looking clean and prim when the UPS guy brings you all that great swap mail.

Have I mentioned recently how much I love words? I used to look a random word up every single day in high school and write it's definition in my journal and then try to use it in conversation or in writing. I wanted to be sure I was using "fecund" properly so I hauled out my trusty ENORMOUS unabridged dictionary to look it up and the tome flipped open to an "e" page and guess what word leaped out at my surprised glance?


Dudes, that is so harsh. I never knew it existed. Want to know the definition? OK. You asked for it*: inability of a male to achieve orgasm and to ejaculate during sexual intercourse despite adequacy of erection.

Seriously, couldn't they have called it "ejaculation-challenged"? Because calling it an incompetence implies that the male in question is too stupid to know how to complete the mission. I have yet to hear of a single male out there who doesn't know how to seal the deal. Just because the equipment isn't working well doesn't mean the man himself is incompetent.

Isn't the dictionary awesome?

In other news...most of my sewing studio is now in my garage. If I could do as I pleased, I would now concentrate my efforts on emptying the studio of Philip's things and start the whole studio make-over. I'm thinking about painting the plywood sub-floor as suggested by friends. I have to have a look at it again. Unfortunately, time waits for no man...(or woman)...and the clock is ticking on getting everything else moved and sold and all that really fun stuff. Thinking about it all makes me want to crawl back in bed and not come out until it's all over. Why isn't that an option? I have some serious inertia I'm working against. This is partly due to the depression I'm fighting and the exhaustion that running the store for a year has left me with.

So, in order to not sit here and whine away the time, I just keep reminding myself that it will all be over in a week and my life will be a little bit more simple. Not stress free**, obviously, as there is the question of a living to be made, but certainly simpler, which I welcome. I will be able to concentrate on more of the things I love; Max, my garden, cooking, designing, and most obviously? Writing.

**People with clinical anxiety are NEVER stress free. Important thing to realize. It's an unpleasant fact of life that many people don't understand. If all the stress factors are gone, then shouldn't one cease to stress? Yes, if one is not afflicted with a mental disorder that feasts on irrational fears and worries, sure.