Life as a seamstress (or sewer or sewist or whatever we're supposed to call ourselves) can be hard. Challenging. Yeah, that's better. It's not hard - really, it's not - it's challenging. It's December and I've been spending money like I've got a money orchard in my back yard. (There's a weird old movie about a family with two money trees.) So, I had decided that I am not going to buy any fabric in November and December. Well, except for those two pieces from Girl Charlee that I had to go ahead and buy because they were down to the last few yards. And that other piece that I couldn't resist. But really, I've been very good the for the last month and a half. But eQuilter sends out a weekly email of their new fabrics. This week I looked, even though I knew I shouldn't, and there are something like 15 fabrics that I want. Not just want but WANT! WANT! WANT! with a powerful WANT.
There is a good thing about buying fabric in December. I'm getting so many packages anyway, it's easy to sneak some fabric in without the husband realizing that I'm buying more fabric. Not that I have to sneak fabric in. No really, I don't. It's just that maybe I'm a little bit embarrassed about how much fabric I have? My stash isn't anywhere near as big as some stashes, and I can easily afford more, but I grew up in a penny pinching family. My mother sewed but she never really had much of a stash, just maybe half a dozen or so pieces at a time. The habits and standards of childhood stay with you your whole life.
By the way, speaking of packages, I would like to say to all the companies I buy stuff from, please stop sending my stuff in bags and giant envelopes. I need more boxes.
I have been sewing. I was working on a thing that I had planned to wear this past weekend but it took longer than I expected and by Friday I was just burned out over it so, even though the only thing left to do was three buttons and buttonholes, I just quit. I will try to finish it today and maybe photograph and post it tomorrow or the next day. It's funny how sometimes the last little thing is just too much.