Dress Design for Shabby Apple dresses.

I've been wanting to challenge myself by sewing clothes for myself, and I've had this dress in my head for a while, but I just haven't had the motivation to put the two together. Then I saw this from Shabby Apple and thought...hmmm...

I love Shabby Apple dresses.

I should do that.

It's a contest. You design a dress {you don't have to sew it; you can draw it} and they pick their 15 favorites. Then we get to vote on our favorite and it becomes part of their Spring line! very cool.

I've run across some other entries online and have just about chickened out, because they're awesome. Beautifully designed and made. {I don't think I know how to sew. I'm a fraud.} But I'm trying to remember the advice I was given by Miss Montana in the Miss America pageant I watched when I was 13...Don't try and be the best because there's always someone better than you. just smile and try. And vaseline your teeth.

{no thanks.}

So I'm doing it.

Just to try.

The dress:

It's made out of a soft gray baby silk; I wanted something "flowy" with a natural drape, and comfortable!

I needed a dress I could squat down to toddler level in without splitting something.

And it had to have pockets! Pockets are a must when you've got kids handing you wrappers and love notes and grasshoppers all the time.

I like loose fitting stuff. It's hard to find a flattering dress that's not tight and fitted, accentuating the nice long thin waisted curvy women of the world. I have a short, cushy, pencil waist, so tight doesn't work well for me. This does. My muffin top thanks me.

I learned a lot from making this dress. Mostly, I love my seam ripper. We're bff's.

grosgrain dreams really do come true.

sarah jane...as in sarah jane studios...of my heart...like somebody i know...of...WON the Marie Therese Grosgrain gown. You know, the famous one that would cost $500. Yup. For real.

So I have renewed hope. I am calling upon the powers of Greyskull to win the 3 ALexander Henry reversible outfits. Doing what I can to preserve the dream. BibbidiBobbidiBoo.



She's opening a shop. And the best part of that...not because I question her skills, I mean duh, did you see the dress? but because I can sigh a huge sigh of envious relief on her behalf...she's hired a clothing company to do the sewing for her, so she just does the designing.

i might live vicariously through her for a minute.

homer.

I live with a ghost named Homer. He's the one who broke the banister.

Homer accidentally moved Corrie's Swatch watch from the drawer to the dresser when he wore it to school without asking, because it matched her, uh, his black stripe Benetton pants.

Homer knocked over the bookshelf, flooded the toilet, and crashed the car into the neighbor's fence. Well, okay, he was the one who knocked the gear shift into reverse, which confused me and caused me to push on the wrong pedal and we accelerated through the neighbor's fence. Big trouble. Duh.



Homer was a welcome compilation of the unexplained. A pretend real life hero in my prime. And now he's followed me here to Mother-dom.

We're pals.



Homer likes to eat the last piece of fudge pie. And all the banana pudding. And the whole bag of Oreos.

Homer forgets to check homework, sometimes.

And Homer, if you can believe it, throws away Happy Meal toys! Oh, for all that's good and junk-loving, Homer!



He dumps out cereal boxes. Draws toothpaste moustaches on his sister. And sprays 80's perfume on mommy's pillow.

Homer did it. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the smelly.

It was Homer.



Homer puts kisses in lunches. And secretly irons shirts for the busy husband. And pulls up the kids covers on cold nights.


He hides socks.

He cuts the cheese.



Homer likes to work in his shop after the kids go to bed, and sometimes makes a bump in the night.



Homer often visits his sister in Brazil. But he only tells mom when he goes; it's pretend for real ghost policy. The kids don't ever know when he's out of town 'cause they like to blame big stuff on him. But they can't when he's in Brazil.

HOmer's a frequent flyer.



Homer is milk spittin' hilarious, and does a mean clog to Kylie Minogue's Locomotion. And wears pearls when he bakes cookies. And has great legs.

Oh no wait, that's me. I get confused.



He's our family ghost. He brings balance to the force. And reminds me often that it's nice sometimes to not have to explain, but just be. Family.



Some things are okay to ignore. And some things you don't need credit for.

Homer wrote that on the wall.

With a sharpie.







scribbit write-away contest

Caramel deserved it, really.

Red wants you to think she's passionate, but she's not really. SHe's just confident. Not really mad, just urked that her super-hero boyfriend Blue sometimes flirts with Orange on accident. Because ORange is hot, but humble.

But not really. Orange kinda knows she's awesome. She gets along with everyone, in a quirky way. LIke Green. They're secret buds, just a little. Green loves Yellow too much to really admit he's enamoured with Orange. Green and Yellow...we're talking Most Likely to Be Together Forever Yearbook pic thing. Brangelina stuff. Very popular.

Because Green is grounded, you know? He knows what's up, for real. And Yellow has it figured out, too. They compliment eachother. That's why Green was so attracted to Yellow in the front row, stuck between cocky Pink who talked too much. Yellow didn't care if she was picked for the sun or not. A don't worry be happy sort of gal. And Green would never go for Orange for real because of Chartreuse. A blended blessing.

Purple is the jealous type. He likes Yellow, but lacks confidence. He just watches the love affair, and colors romance novels. He thought Red was exciting, but they clashed.

Brown hates Purple. Brown's the mafia. Purple is innocent and naive and ripped off Brown during the Purple Ponies and Rainbows Era, not on purpose, but Brown has a grudge. A mafia grudge. Danger.

So Black looks out for Purple. THey're not real friends, but Black is a defender of all that's good and worth defending. A silent surprise. He likes to act tough.

Black and White go together, cause Michael Jackson said so. Shamon.

OKay, I'd like to talk about Grey for a minute. I mean Gray. He hates that, SEriously, decide already how you feel about him. He's just kinda there, pleasing the masses. A filler. Pulled between Black and White, not really belonging with either. Black likes working out with Grey or Gray. Squats. White just likes hanging out with him for dimension. She's on the fence. The non-commital type. The alluring slow motion hair blowing with a beach backdrop kind of aloof-ness. Let's Be Friend's is tatooed under her label.

Silver is addicted to White. Gray's cousin from the Hills.

Once, Silver threw a party for Gold, and White didn't show. Silver gave her all sorts of excuses, but she was really just shopping with Pink.

Brown got mad 'cause White bumped off his brother Caramel, so he told PInk she couldn't hang out with White anymore, or else.

It's all a bit dramatic, really.


Indigo and Violet are running for City Council. To clean up the streets.


Pink is missing. Black bought a castle and hired a butler.

Orange told Red she's pretentious, and Blue is meeting Brown by the docks.




That's how I see it, anyways.


scribbit write-away contest

three cheers for a high profile shout out!

I was makin' a banana button last night, and took a detour to see what Scribbit's write-away topic was this month, and whoopee doo-da, she wanted a new button. Huh, that's convenient. Sure, I'll try it out...Conan's only on popsicle #2 and ESPN's pretty hot tonight, I've got some time. Now, I'm no real live designer, but I love me a mean button.

And today...a high profile shout out. Thanks, Scribbit! And NFL.


I feel a bit sheepish. But not really.

you were all so convincing, but the winner is...

Send me your address, Nat, and I'll send your bag!

i heart bag giveaway.

An emergency announcement, with a tinge of sorrow...

I had an unfortunate experience as I washed this wonderful bag of mine. It krinkled. The exterior fabric came through the ordeal okay, but the liner went all krinkly on me. Upon further investigation, I found I am not the only one who has experienced this unfortunate..ness with one of my bags. Oh big huge bummer of my soul.

SO...if you've purchased a bag from me...don't wash it. Spot clean it, or dry clean it. I am frustrated and disappointed, because I've washed my bags before and this hasn't happened. I'm thinking it's something gone awry with the fusing I'm now using. Apparently it goes wonky in the wash. If you've had any kind of problem with something you've purchased from me, please let me know. I am very sorry.

I ironed my i heart bag, and it's better, but every time I look at it I see a broken laundered soul. So I'm giving it away. You can't complain that the inside is a little wrinkled...because it's free. And it's clean. And it's pretty.

Leave a comment, before midnight Thursday, August 28. Best comment wins. Just kidding, I'll put your names in a hat and post the winner Friday morning.


I'm off to find chats about wonky fusing. This situation must be rectified forthwith. (I think rectify is one of those words I'm not quite comfortable with.)

Happy giveaway day.

movie game.

WOO capital HOO! Conan and I played some good ones on our double road trip, so my brain is full of 'em. We have different opinions on scoring, but I think I won. Just kidding, Conan won. Big surprise and big whoop. We both had some good ones though, so buckle up! (Good heavens, that was lame.)

I'm proud of this one. Knowing you guys, you'll guess it before I can pat myself on the back. But Conan didn't get it, so I have a sense of accomplishment already.

Here's it is...

lost love found. then fought for.

Oooh. It's a goodie.

So leave your guesses in the comments. If nobody gets it right by Friday, I'll give you another clue. Three clues in all. First one to guess it right wins a prize.

darn. i left my boots in the batmobile.

So there I was. Bouncing the Froot Loops of Fury off of my fancy wrist bands of invincibility, wondering where my League of Justifications were, when the crumbs under my naked feet reminded me...

I left my boots in the Batmobile.

How will this super-momma ever rid the world of all that's evil and unfair without her sexy red boots?

After whining about the impending doom and destruction, the chocolate syrup serenade on my clean kitchen floor snapped me back. The art of saving humanity must go on. With or without the hot outfit. Bruce will bring my boots home with the milk.

Silly. Silly Super Hero. You're only as good as your costume.

The sharp realization is, I'm not Wonder Woman, like the underoos had convinced me so long ago. Uh...duh.

As validating as it would be, Super Hero status doesn't come in the can with Motherhood.

My Lasso of Truth is...I'm only as beautiful as the day I get to shower with shampoo and wear a shirt with buttons; only as wise as the great idea I stole from the perfect mom I found during a good link session, who I just assume is awesome because she only posts the awesome stuff, as it should be; I'm only as swift as the diaper-of-nastiness being unlawfully tossed onto the tropical popsicle stained carpet; and I'm only as strong as the double ply Bounty I keep in my fanny pack. I really can be rinsed and re-used.

I yell. I don't do it right, according to whoever gets to decide that. I change my mind mid-consequence. My super kicks are about as high as your shin splints. I don't even have the nutrition triangle hanging on my fridge. In fact, I've added a level for vanilla wafers right between the cheesesticks and the canned peaches.

And the bad guys make me cry.

I realize Lex Luthor is just a sad bitter man because his mom made him eat sweet potatoes. His buddies, Dr. Doubt and Captain Comparison have issues, too. Probably with broccoli. But they put up a good fight.

I wonder...

How am I supposed to kick evil's rear without the fancy magic bracelets? Do I scold or re-direct? Why doesn't my anti-frizz mousse anti-frizz? Does the 30 cents I save not buying the fancy tinfoil really matter in the realm of Budgetdom? What exactly does High Fructose do to your guts?

Then there's that villanous marvel shot at the super mom down the street...How does she do it? The answer is, she doesn't. She just wears the sexy red boots.

It's only a costume.

Wonderful Women.

Without fancy bracelets.

Unite.

scribbit write-away contest.

Rename sk*rt, win some stuff

sk*rt is changing their name, so they're having a contest...check out the choices here, and leave a comment with your preference, and you could win stuff....

Calisto home office phone system...almost named after me.

Magic Bullet - perfectly crushes up your oreos for a truffle treat. I appreciate this.

This is what I thought most of you may be interested in. The blogher Conference in San Francisco, free. You still have to get there, but you're resourceful. Handcarts.

You can suggest your own name if you want. Like...CheckIt...or What the-Who-Huh?...or Blurt...Oh gosh. I'm so good at this. Someone needs to hire me to make a lot of no sense. Love it.

And i love the site formally known as sk*rt.