The Unintended Amazingness of Septoplasty

There really isn't any better day to get facial surgery than Halloween.

NOW WHO DOES THAT REMIND YOU OF?!?!

Please watch as I get stripped of my sewing blogger credentials:

The kids are wearing store-bought costumes.   We got them in Spain because I couldn't bring myself to make outfits I wouldn't get to see worn and enjoyed because I'm terrible like that I ran out of time to make them.  Maia is a Bruja (witch) and Jamie is a... I don't know... a ghost, a bear, a ghost bear?   Best Halloween ever.*


*Except for every other Halloween I've ever had.

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Surprise Part Deux: I'm not dead. Yet.

Welcome back to part two of impromptu shop closures! It's so exciting that I keep springing these on you, right? 

This time I'm shutting up shop for less desirable reasons than holidays and sunshine; tomorrow morning I'll be reenacting the movie Face/Off by having a tent erected within my nasal cavity to lift my face off my face and have my nose reconstructed.  The ideal scenario is that I will (after ten years of creepy mouth breathing) have two additional functioning airways.  The less ideal scenario is that the tent collapses and I become Voldermort.  The least ideal scenario is that I die under general anaesthetic because that's the kind of thing that happens to me.  In all scenarios save the last I should be reopen for business some time next week.

If you want to read the back-story as to why exactly I am getting my nose fixed, or simply want to see why Betty Page style bangs don't work with my hair type you can read all that (and more!) here.

Wish me luck and see you on the other side!  As in, the afterlife.

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The Little Shop That Wasn't (For Me)

This weekend, on my daily pilgrimmage for bread and milk I walked by the shop that I was interested in.  And there were people in there!  Not shocking in and of itself, obviously, but it's been boarded up forever and I didn't actually think anyone would want it but me.  'Aha!', I thought, 'the universe is sending me a sign!'.  I didn't have an appointment scheduled to see it but I figured as the agent isn't local and he was physically there and so was I, I'd loiter around until the other viewer left and then introduce myself.  Which I did. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I just shook on it with the other viewer.'  And do you know what?  I was relieved.

Here's my very technical drawing of the space.  It's a corner unit with a chunk out of one corner for the main door, full height windows to two sides, and a internal door to a tiny bathroom on the back wall.  The total dimensions are roughly the same as my current space but the available wall space is a whole lot smaller.  To store my fabric in its current shelving would take up most of the wall space, which would leave me to work in one of the windows like a very boring parody of Amsterdam's red light district.

And here's my current working space.  One door, one half-height window (so I can work in front of it), a whole lotta wall and work space.  Looking at it like that, it would have been madness to cut into my profit margin by £400/m.  But it was something I was seriously considering doing for two reasons:

1. The sewing room is the land of misfit furniture
2. I have trouble staying 'on task' in my house

The first point is sounds simple enough.  Throughout Operation: Save Our Collective Lives I've replaced furniture that doesn't work with our lives and house with furniture that does.  The misfit furniture then moves to the garage or, if it is a semi-fit for what I need, into the sewing room.  But it's not the furniture that I need for the sewing room to work: my sewing table is too small for more than one machine at a time, there's an erstwhile two seater sofa that's being used as a surface to stack stuff on, and I'm using a old TV unit for pattern storage.  Consequently the room gets messy quickly, I'm frustrated with swapping machines constantly, and I don't feel happy and productive when I'm in there.  But guess what?  None of the misfit furniture would have gone to the shop.  Ergo, if I was willing to spend money to kit out the shop so it's the best use of space, I should be willing to spend money to improve my current space.  In fact, I should be willing to spend more money as it saves me the shop expenses in the long run.

Which moves me onto point two, which is harder to overcome.

When I am very busy, I work at my best.  But by 'busy' I mean I have orders to fulfil, when there are already expectations on me by customers.  What I struggle with is creating more business, be that through promoting, marketing, working on new patterns or designs, actively seeking opportunities, etc.  Truth be told, it's the fear of putting myself out there. I've been talking with a good friend a lot recently about holding myself and my business back through fear of failure and how this is actually a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Getting a physical shop would force me to work really, really hard to cover its expenses but more than that, I'd be telling myself that it's okay to take this seriously as a business.  To do many businessy things because I absolutely had to and should do as a legitimate business.  The number of people who've asked, 'What are you going to do now that your kids are both at school?' with the undertone of you should go back to proper work definitely sows seeds of doubt in what you're doing.  And that doubt is multiplied if you are the one holding yourself back. 

Long story short, the shop was not to be but it made me analyse where I'm at.

• There are definitely less expensive ways to feel legitimate  
• If I was willing to invest in the shop, it's okay to invest in things that are not the shop  
• I need to structure my time better

Thoughts or advice?

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Proto-pants begets Proto-suit

Whence before I attempted to distract you with detritus in the background, I will now distract you with detritus in the background and terrible lighting.  I will take pictures of the next version through rain-streaked glass.

These are actually Proto-pants V2-- tighter and higher than their forebearer.  I doubt you've noticed, however, being unable to tear your eyes away from Inadvertant Sports Bra.  I don't even know how to fix this travesty.  Ideas?

I will now cleanse your visual palate with a picture of my new short and blonde hair.

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Sewing for the mythical summer

After months of monitoring the (frankly sickening) cost of transatlantic travel this summer, we finally were able to book our flights to the States this past weekend thanks to a KLM sale. It still cost almost a quarter more than any other time we've flown as a foursome, but until the sale prospective flights were coming in at more than fifty percent higher than last summer. Any guesses on how much of the total flight costs were taxes and airport fees? Sixty four percent. I will now jump off my rageful soapbox.

The good news is that there is now an opportunity to take my winter coat off and I have a beady eye on some patterns that will be completely inappropriate for the remaining 49 weeks of the year. These shorts from Colette's new collection fit the bill, and now that I've seen a bright red and classic black in the Flickr pool I'm even more keen. I really, really like Colette Patterns but as someone who almost universally dislikes pastels I am sometimes put off by their styling.

I did, however, like the Lily sundress right from the start. It has a promising shape for my body and I have it on good authority (ie KID MD) that FBAing a princess seam is not too harrowing.

 

Another dress on the wish list is Sewaholic's Cambie Dress, which is coming out this week.  The neckline and sleeves are almost identical to my Neverending Dress, but I am unconvinced that a single underbust dart will accommodate my largesse.  Neverending Dress had four darts each side!

And last but by no means least, here is some swimsuit fabric I scored.  Can you guess what madcap it-will-only-end-in-tears plans I have for these?  Facebook fans have a head start on regular non-FB readers (I'm looking at you, Mom) as they goaded me into buying it...

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Now is the summer of our discontent

Someone re-write the Bible quick: forty days and nights of rain is no big deal. I think we're on day 113, at the very least.  Oh, and highs of 6 deg in May (that's low 40's Fahrenheit fans)?  THE SHEER CRUELTY. It's driving me demented, truly.

Now that I've gotten my British small talk out of the way, here's a Little Red Tennis Skirt with a brown cloud waistband.   Also feel free to admire the lovely red asymmetrical sweater that my mum knitted Maia.  Making things that are asymmetrical runs in out family. 

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Capturing Childhood

image courtesy of Capturing Childhood 

As I talk about in constant, tedious detail, I struggle with photography. With product shots, it might take me a hundred shots to get a handful that are acceptable. But at least product shots are repeatable; the clothes come out on another day and I try to do better. For me, the most frustrating aspect of taking sub-standard pictures is when I'm using the camera for personal and not business use. Special events, impromptu moments, holidays, and just spending time together as a family are the most important things for me to capture and I've had a lot of heartache when I've looked back on my pics.  Every single time this happens, I pester my friend Kat.  'Why does this happen?!', I whine on Twitter.  'What is going on?!', I post on her facebook wall.  'I have attached an album of terrible pictures for you to explain', I email.

Finally, Kat got so sick of me* that she collaborated with another fantastic photographer named Kat and together they designed a e-course specifically for capturing the everyday moments of having kids.  It's a six week module with a group of people all learning at the same time through weekly blog posts, assignments and plenty of scope to engage with and support each other.  And here's the video:

It made me a little bit tearful...... anyone else? Just me then.

So now I'm all signed up** and raring to go.  I'm really looking forward to learning heaps of things.  Kat's really looking forward to me not pestering her.  If you want to find out more, clickety click.


*This may not technically be true. I am very irritating though.
** This is not in any way a sponsored post and I gladly paid the full rate!

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The Spring is Cruel Top

Despite my best intentions to participate more in the Spring Top Sewalong over on Made by Rae, the pool closes in a couple of hours and (just like last year) I have a single last-minute entry.  Next year, right?

I get pretty jealous of all these lovely lightweight and / or sleeveless entries by people who live in less cruel climates.  Right after these pictures were taken my arms got frostbite, gangrenous and then fell off. Continuity-buffs, you will also note that my hair got be-ponytailed during the picture taking. This was due to extreme wind whipping my hair across my face and interfering with that soul-searching look I am sending you through your computers.

But nothing says Scottish spring more than inappropriate attire and clouds, so this top gets two ticks for both style and theme.

PS. Thanks so much for all your sweet comments on my Missoni dress. I would have responded to everyone individually but I was too busy blushing.

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Turquoise and Lime. Rhymes with 'Whine'.

I made a second attempt at a Renfrew today. The catalogue of changes I made to the pattern include (but are not limited to):

• Graded to size 12 at bust on front piece tapering back to 8 at waist
  
• Sleeve cap changed accordingly
• Overall length shortened by one inch at shorten / lengthen line
• Shoulder point moved half an inch towards neckline
• Shoulder slope reduced
• Neckband tightened / shortened by at least two inches (and it still needs to be more!)

The result is better, but still not the ever-elusive great fit. Excuse me, God, THIS IS WHAT I WANT:

Can anyone tell me how she did this?! It is worth mentioning that she has to FBA the Renfrew two sizes (like I did) but wherefore art thou, draglines? Just look how thoughtful this is making me:

So thoughtful. While I have God on the line (and also many helpful readers), please can we address how to pose for pictures without looking like a complete wally? My full facial repetoire is 'pensive' (see above)...

And 'benign'. How do you all take natural and normal pictures when you're modelling clothes?*

I do relax a bit when Jamie is behind the lense, but he knows nothing about ideal lighting.

To summarise: How do you solve a problem like a Renfrew? And then photograph the results without having to crop your head out.

*Or look natural and normal as you go about your day-to-day life, in fact.

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And then I joined The White Stripes

If you're not my friend on Facebook, you've missed out on some epic whining this week. Firstly, I have my biannual dose of tonsilitus. But even more harrowing, I had a disastrous set of appointments at a hair salon. Why 'sets', you ask? Because first they did this:


Those are 'blonde' highlights that were left on so long that huge sections of hair turned white-grey. Because the highlights took more than three hours (including an hour when the foils were on but not checked) and subsequently I was running late to pick up the kids, I had to leave with my hair wet and I didn't realise how bad it was until later. With a friend for moral support (and to confirm that it was in fact terrible), I returned the next day to express how unhappy I was and that I would like it fixed. The good news: tonight it was fixed*. The bad news: they charged me to fix it. I don't think I've ever named-and-shamed a company before, but here I go.

*If by fixed you mean given an all-over colour not too far from my natural colour.

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Through the Velouroscope there be madness

'Please look normal.'

'That's definitely not normal.'

'Maia- good job. Jamie- seriously?'

'Jamie... please?'

'Sigh.'

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The part of Robert Redford will be played by me. The part of fake refugee will be played by Branson.

I have been very touched by the collective good-will towards my finger. The little twins who live across the street have even been praying for me. Don't worry about me, God. Honestly, I'm fine. So I took my bandage off a couple of days ago. The nurse said four days, but I counted the day that she did it, and the day I took it off, and I stayed up very late on Tuesday and Wednesday so those days counted at 1.5 days. Really, it was very close to four days. Apart from Friday (technically the day I should have taken it off), when I had a Robert Redford in The Natural moment, it is healing really well.


To the people who won't get this reference: Robert Redford is a baseball player with a big game and twenty-year old bullet lodged in his stomach. He's at the plate and hits a home run and everyone is like, 'Just look at that guy getting stuff done he's a goddamn hero running around those bases like that WAIT A MINUTE IS THAT BLOOD COMING THROUGH HIS SHIRT WHAT IS GOING ON'. Me and my poorly-bandaged-by-me finger reenacted this scene fairly accurately except for the exploding overhead lights. I couldn't find a single screencap of this dramatic denouement and I was google image searching things like 'robert redford the natural bandage' and 'robert redford the natural blood'. No screencaps. But just look what does come up under 'robert redford bullet wound'...


My old enemy of yore. Nice try, Branson, you are no way heroic like Robert Redford in the The Natural. In fact, The Daily Mail reports the story as 'The Moment Virgin boss pretended to be a refugee and was 'taken hostage' by armed gunman'. According to the Daily Mail (so by rights I'm calling shenanigans'), this was an official simulation with the United Nations but I'm guessing that faking injuries and pretending to be refugee is not a one-off with this man.

For the sadists who wanted to see what it looked like when I took it off, knock yourselves out. Many apologies to my Flickr contacts who saw the picture without any say in the matter.

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Whatever, ring finger. I didn't like you anyway.

I've been having more and more orders for Kindle 4 covers so last night I decided it was high time to fashion myself a Ghetto Kindle 4* out of several layers of heavy card and cellotape. So there I was, minding my own business, cutting card with my craft knife. And then disaster strikes: the knife slips and shears the side of my finger clean off. Just when I was about to make it big as an International Hand Model**. Faced with the dilemma of what to do with the semi-finger on the floor (if we had a composter the decision would be obvious), Steven and I threw it in the bin. Friend Sarah: I'm telling you right now that if you are called to the refuse facility on official police business because someone has found a portion of a finger, don't be alarmed. We hot-footed it up to our local A&E, only to find it was closed because the genteel folk of North Edinburgh don't get up to shenanigans after 9pm. Home again, I roused retired-pharmacist neighbour and made him clean and dress it.

Once the local folk were allowed to injure themselves again (9am this morning), we made it back to A&E for some judgement and chastisement for not trekking it across the city last night to the open hospital, casual prodding of open wounds, and a less-than-lovingly administered tetanus shot***. But the worst thing, they made me get a divorce:

Okay, so technically they made me drag two wedding rings over a swollen mess. But it looks like I've had a divorce. So other than the pain and risk of infection, I now have to contend with people hitting on me all day long****.

To cut a long story short, I'm finding out all the things my left ring finger used to do without protesting. Turns out it's quite a lot, particularly as the ring finger tends to tag along with whatever the other fingers want to do. I am continuing to work, but my pace has slowed a bit due to Minding the Finger. Everyone who ordered before the weekend will be shipped tomorrow morning (they actually turned the light off as I stepped into the post office tonight because my finger took one minute too long packaging things up). Orders that came in over the weekend will be completed and sent within a couple of days.

*Ghetto Kindle: all the dimensions of a real Kindle but none of the content.
** Not technically true although I'm pretty sure scouts have been checking out all the tutes with my hands in them.
*** Big mo-fo bruise already.
****Because in my mind that probably happened a lot when I used to be single.

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Dental reviews: Now 100 % more thorough

Long-term readers might remember the review I did of my dentist earlier this year via the medium of True Blood. Reviews are great, of course, but better when they are not stand-alone pieces. Everyone is left wondering, 'How is this dentist now?', 'What was her six month check-up like?', and 'Did the dynamics of their relationship change now they are more familiar with each other and have gotten over their initial-appointment jitters?' Courtesy of my first cavity in 15 years, I bring you a follow-up review....

Dentist: Hello there. How are you today?
Me: Fine, thank you. How are you?
Dentist (harassed face): Meh.
Me: Bad day, was it?
Dentist: You could say that.
Me: (thinks) I hope it wasn't a malpractice suit.
Dentist: So. You're here because you have a cavity.
Me: Yes.
Dentist: And would you like to have pain relief?
Me: (thinks) Is this a trick question?
Dentist: If you don't it will be sore when I drill.
Me: I would like pain relief.

Pictured: Needle to scale.

Dentist: I have given you two injections.
Me: Okay.
Dentist: Just about to drill. It might still be sore, the injections were only small. Let me know if you can't take it.
Me: (thinking) What does this guy have against pain relief?
Dentist: Here we go....

Pictured: My actual response.

Dentist: Would you like another injection?
Me: Yes please.
Dentist: Okay, done. We might as well clean your teeth while we wait for it to kick in.

Pictured: Routine teeth cleaning

Dentist: Nurse, can I have the suction?

Pictured: Dental nurse

Dentist: Is it fully numb now?

Pictured: All of the paralysed nerves and muscles in my face.

Me: Yes.
Dentist: I am going to put this thing in your mouth.

Pictured: approximation of apparatus

Dentist: Let's get drilling.

Pictured: Dentists everywhere.

Dentist: Okay, all done. You should rinse now.

Pictured: Pre-rinsed.

Me: Thank you.
Dentist: You're welcome. See you in six months.

The end.

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A comedy of errors

I know, my internet woes are very boring. Each day this week it's been cut off an hour earlier than the day before and I was starting to worry that eventually it would be cut off before I actually had it and a whopping great hole would be ripped in the Time-Space Continuum and before you know it it's the apocalypse again. So I called Virgin this morning. Hereby follows a (fairly) accurate representation of my experience:

Virgin robot: Press one for..... press six for.... please enter character four.... press five for.... press six for.... press two for.... press nine for... please enter character one..... press two for.... press four for.... press one for.... press six for....
Me: Press. Press. Press. Press. Press. Press. Press. Press.

While I am on hold, other people* have breakfast:



Technician one: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: I have terrible internet problems blah blah blah...
Technician one: Okay, let me somehow take over your computer so you are embarrassed you when you realise what sites you have open.
Me: Okay.
Technician one: I have fixed everything. It all works now.
Me: Oh really?
Technician one: I have fixed everything. It all works now. Goodbye.

After hanging up the phone, I confirm that the internet does not actually work. Let's start the process over. Meanwhile, some people take out their garbage.



Technician two: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: I have terrible internet problems blah blah blah... Your colleague told me he fixed it but he didn't.
Technician two: Okay, see that blue light on your computer, is it on?
Me: Yes.
Technician two: Great, your computer is on.
Me: --
Technician two: See that green light on the monitor, is it on?
Me: Yes.
Technician two: Great, your monitor is on. You can see things, right?
Me: --
Technician two: See that green light on the router, is that on?
Me: Yes.
Technician two: You have the internet. Is there anything else I can do to help?
Me: I don't have the internet.
Technician two: You have a problem with your computer.
Me: No I don't. Every single device has the same problem at the same time.
Technician two: When you fix your computer, the rest of your devices will start working.
Me: That is not even possible.
Technician two: I am transferring you to the 'It's Not Me, It's You' department.

Meanwhile, other people are on the phone too....


Person three: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: I have terrible internet problems blah blah blah...
Person three: Can I have your account details?
Me: Blah blah blah.
Person three: You do not have an account with us.
Me: You are a joker.
Person three: I'm going to have to transfer you back to the beginning. Ask whoever answers to 'warm transfer' you back to me.

Person four: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: The last person I spoke to told me to tell you to 'warm transfer' me back to him.
Person four: What is this thing you speak of?
Me: No idea.
Person four: Well, who were you speaking to?
Me: I don't even know what is going on.
Person four: I'm going to transfer you.

Meanwhile, in another part of the world....



Person five: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: You could come to my house and stab me to death.
Person five: Ma'am?
Me: I have terrible internet problems blah blah blah...
Person five: I'm not authorised to speak to you as you are a 50mb customer. I will transfer you.

Person six: Hello, how can I help you?
Me: I have terrible internet problems blah blah blah... You are the fifth person I have spoken to during this epic one hour and thirty minute conversation.
Person six: It is a known fault in your area.
Me: ARE YOU KIDDING ME DID YOU ACTUALLY ADMIT THAT
Person six: There has been a fault for ages.
Me: I KNOW THAT I HAVE TOLD EVERYONE THAT
Person six: Your internet loses its connection constantly.
Me: THIS IS A JOKE I AM ON CANDID CAMERA

*Disclaimer for legal types: Any resemblance to real people, be they Richard Branson or not, is purely coincidental.

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Postcards from the edge

I had a great time in Belfast, eating out, shopping, chatting and catching up with sleep. However, on my return I found that our internet problems are back. Apologies, this is the most boring post in the world, but I am now at a point of desperation. If I can't get this sorted, it will kill my business. And quite possibly my soul. Please, can anyone with technical nous help me?

Here's the situation:

• When we first had the wireless installed, I had heaps of problems. Internet worked in the morning, but changed to an intermittent connection in the afternoon. Four technician visits, a replacement of the router, tinkering with settings of Norton, all sorts of ipconfig stuff in cmd, it started working. I thought it was fixed.
  
• There was a power outage on the evening I left. Up until this point, the internet had worked more or less all day long for a couple of weeks. Now, we're back to the old problem of a working internet in the morning and intermittent connection from the afternoon. All of the things mentioned above I have done again but no fixes this time.
• By intermittent connection I mean that about two thirds of the time I either refresh sites I've been on or try to access new sites I get Server Not Found or Connection Timed Out errors. If pages do load (after hitting refresh refresh refresh refresh), the format is often all wrong with missing images or embedded content (like google ads, Youtube etc) showing the same Server Not Found error within the page. Clicking through almost never works.
  
• When I'm in cmd after service has become intermittent, pinging google.com works occassionally, but most of the time it gives a server not found error.
• From the time the connection gets poor, this is the case for all of our devices. Safari on the Ipad is slightly better than the PC at actually making a connection with sites, but it's still getting server not found errors and it is slow. This leads me to believe that it can't be PC or Norton related, but Virgin / router related.
• Logging onto the router shows no obvious problems, although the error log can have quite a few 'time not established' critical errors about T3 time outs and DHCP WARNINGs.

The most frustrating (and baffling) thing about this is that it works for the first couple hours of the day. My normal work day with the kids at school and nursery is to sew while they're out and do all my computer stuff like blogging / updating sites / answering emails etc in the evening. Having to do computer things in the morning means that I'm not actually getting a chance to sew uninterrupted any more and it's only a little bit melodramatic to say this is ruining everything I've been working hard at over the last couple of years.

Can anyone shed light on this?

UPDATE: Now, 120% more boring! My diagnostics:

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The prodigal blogger returns

The computer problem was resolved last week, but it took at least 100 hours to build our trust back. I was convinced that no sooner than I announce I'd fixed it, it'd be gone again, so thus I continued radio silence. You will notice I said I fixed it; despite four technician visits from Virgin, they were unable to find the problem. Lucky for me, I have a mantra:


And a phone with internet access. Using my phone, I googled and googled and googled. I did lots of things rational non-desperate people wouldn't do, like change the settings in my computer and the router and my security software and execute command prompts in secretive black screens. I am awaiting news of my honourary degree in computer science, or perhaps an OBE in the Queen's Honour List. So enough of that, I hope I will never have to use my 'Richard Branson personally hates me' tag.

And what have I been doing in abstentia? Heaps. Here's a sneaky peak of something I'm working on right now.

What have you all been up to?

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Situation Vacant

This really isn't the first picture of Jamie and Robbie, just the first on this current computer. They're two.

Another one bites the dust, guys. I've mentioned before that I appear to trigger a diaspora within my (admittedly small) circle of super-close friends, forcing them to move outwith my immediate clutches. First BFF back to Australia, second to Northern Ireland, and tomorrow the first very close friend I made post-children is moving to the very south coast. Liz and I met in antenatal group when we were pregnant with our boys and we've spent somewhere between 1500 and 2500 hours since then eating biscuits, walking like it's our full-time jobs, and swapping tales of horror and schadenfreude. We had our boys, we had our girls, and the (two- four-) six of us have been a constant feature for the last six years. I can't even verbalise how much I'll miss her, my first mum friend. When we said goodbye this week Maia and I cried our faces off (Jamie alternated between playing his DS and offering us platitudes of comfort). But our loss is your gain: I have a situation vacant within my cosy coterie.

Female, 31, seeks similar for friendship and possibly more (and by more I mean intense friendship). Must enjoy lamenting fate, self-deprecation, being a dork, and coffee. Interests include Vikings, fabric porn, obscure films, travel*, and books.

And here's the bonus: TRAVEL. Steven is currently in Spain visiting his parents (post-accident, they are still there). Four full days. And he has taken all of his holidays so I will spend my birthday next week by myself / with the kids. Ergo- I deserve a holiday of my own.

Those in the UK, I await volunteers for travel companions. Those in Europe, fight amongst yourselves as to who will host us. I am at least 73% serious.

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