Back to counterjinxing. You know what I mean, right? I mean, admit it, you have a pair of lucky socks, too, I bet. Am I right? I was born on October 13, so for me, the 13th has always been an appealing number. But some people get nervous when the 13th happens to fall on a Friday. How do you feel about black cats, ladders, and mirrors? Maybe you have a ritual you do to help your team win? I don't subscribe to common superstitions. But if turning around seven times will undo any bad ju-ju I may have inadvertently attracted by focusing too intently on my desire to receive “minor” revisions, well, gimme the rabbit's foot! Sorry, Thumper!
Today I cleared away some wreckage from my past. In fact, I didn't even go out of the house. As I was cleaning, I opened a dusty plastic tote box and found some heavy wool knitted fabric, which I had purchased years ago at a thrift store, mainly because of the delicious tweedy green color. I like green. So, in my best DIY fashion, I fashioned a jacket from it, sans pattern. I just started whacking with the scissors. As I worked, I found a handful of moth holes, as well as some knitted-in flaws. That didn't stop me. I was indulging the imperious urge of my creative muse, whatever the hell that is. Similar to indigestion, I think. Anyway, you can probably guess that with no pattern, I ended up with some unexpected results, which required the insertion of some gussets. I'll let you look up that one yourself. No, it's not contagious.
Many years ago, in another life, I lived in Los Angeles, where I operated a custom clothing design business for about ten years. I did a lot of sewing. After I shut it down, I swore I'd never sew again. It's hard to keep an oath like that; buttons fall off, hems need rehemming, you know, so I've done a little bit of sewing, here and there, but nothing like today. Today was like... cooking with no recipe. Today was like painting with your fingers—with your eyes closed. It's guess-and-by-golly creativity, the most free-wheeling—and freeing —kind. But of course, when you jump off a cliff, creatively speaking, you don't always have control over crosswinds and landing places. In other words, you get what you get. What I got was a super warm jacket crafted from a fabulous greenish knitted wool, with one sleeve sewn inside out, and a few moth holes. What can I say. My eyesight isn't what it used to be.
I don't know that I'll finish it. It needs a hem and some buttons. And I'm allergic to wool. One thing for sure, though: The day reminded me of why I hate to sew. And it proves the old adage, just because you are good at something doesn't mean you should spend your time doing it. Especially if you don't like it all that much. And when you aren't that good at it anymore.
