I once rode the Greyhound from just outside Medicine Hat, Alberta, to Toronto with a friend (we started out in Victoria, B.C., but her car's engine seized just as we crossed over into Saskatchewan; we sold the car for parts and hitched a ride with a Canada Post delivery truck to the closest bus "depot" — which was actually just a gas station on the Trans-Canada Highway). The bus ride was 48 hours long — nothing compared to the hellish trip experienced by the young couple who got on the same bus in Whistler.
It's my theory that in order to survive such a test of endurance, you must give yourself over to it completely: You've got to say to yourself, "This is my life now. I live on this bus. These are my people. I am never getting off." Only then can you actually begin to enjoy the trip rather than make yourself miserable counting down the hours until it is over.
I'm feeling this same way about a couple things this week:
1) My kid has a persistant case of pinkeye. Of course that means she can't go to preschool because it's so crazy infectious (she contracted it at a birthday party last weekend; half the girls in attendance got pinkeye, the other half the flu. I guess I should consider myself lucky — I hate cleaning up vomit).
Nor can we go anywhere kids are in attendance (that would be unethical), or set up playdates (passing on pinkeye is not the way to win new friends). Instead we must hang out at home, doing craft projects and struggling with the impossible task of forcing medicated drops into a four-year-old's eyes thrice daily. This is my life now. Today we made soft pretzels and watched My Little Pony.
I thought the pretzels were amazing (I used Smitten Kitchen's recipe). However, my picky kid is the most hyperbolic food reviewer; she said the pretzels were so horrible that people were going to fill the street outside our window and start chanting, "The dough is yucky! The dough is yucky!" A simple "no, thank-you" would have sufficed.
2) Kenneth King's Jeanius Craftsy class. I am never getting off this bus:
|Drafting on silk organza|
All of it wouldn't seem so daunting if I was actually confident these pants can be replicated. I couldn't even tell you what kind of fabric these are made from. They're from W118 by Walter Baker. (Not a brand I had ever heard of; I bought them at Marshall's last December). The tag says 64% Polyester, 32% Rayon, and 4% Spandex. They're obviously a woven, but I can't see a grainline for the life of me. And they seem to have at least a little stretch in every direction, which must be why they are so amazingly comfortable and super flattering. Probably my best bet would be to head to Mood and ask someone who knows their stuff. Or try making them in another fabric, and adjust the pattern as needed. (Also, somebody better help me eat the rest of these pretzels, or this pattern will definitely need a few adjustments).
Edit: I've been googling, and now I think they're a poly-blend crepe.
So how do you maintain your calm when mired in a month-long sewing project with no end in sight?