Escape from the house complete. I found a cute tank top to wear under my suit for Maureen's wedding, plus a pair of black Jones New York jeans on clearance $15 at Marshall's. They were, of course, out of black sheer pantyhose in human sizes, so I'll have to pick up a pair elsewhere. Would their card reader read the Visa gift card I tried to use to pay for it? Nooooooooooooooo. So I pulled out another one. And another. Because I now have six of the darned things. Nope. None. I gave up on the third one, even though there was no one waiting in line behind me. It was obvious that either the card reader doesn't work or the cashier had no clue what to do.
Picked up a white mock turtleneck (made of genuine mock turtles?) and a couple more long sleeved T-shirts at the Eddie Bauer outlet because they are useful and I kind of live in them at this time of year. (Extremely casual workplace, remember?) Their card reader happily digested a gift card.
Hiogi is dry and half laced at this point. I'm taking a break from peering at thread holes through my reading glasses for a few minutes before I run the second thread through.
A number of people are probably stressing over Not Done Twelfth Night Clothes right about now. Not me. (Well, except for the part where I hang everything up and attack it with the steamer in a little while.) I don't work that way. I never have. I've gotten through thirteen years in the SCA without staying up all night before an event to finish a project, or sewing on the way to the event or sewing it onto my body AT the event. Clearly there is something wrong with me.
Instead I will be wearing
this old thing. It deserves to be worn.
