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 So, I'm wearing black to 12th Night.  Big shock, I know.

I'm bringing our raven masks for the masque, since we'll both be in mostly black (though Bob is wearing his burgundy coat, and I'm wearing my burgundy bodies), but I'm still fiddling with my ruff.  It's the same one I wore to 12th Night last year, but this time I've pinned it flat, so it fans out around my face.

I just need to make a supportasse, but that's not happening between now and this weekend.  So hopefully it'll stay up with the support of the collars and the pins.

I feel like I should make something new, but honestly, I've got so many outfits that it seems like a waste.  This won't stop me in the end (especially since I have this great puke green velvet that's just whimpering at me to be made into something), but I can't work up much enthusiasm for new sewing.

Have I mentioned I hate making clothes?  I love having new outfits, but I just get so bored when I'm sewing.  Embroidery doesn't have the same effect on me, so I tend to do more of that.  I sometimes feel that I'm not really holding my end up, and that I should have something new for each major event, but I worked for ten years to have enough clothes so that I wouldn't have to do that.

Oh, man, I'm boring.

So here are some new icons for people to play with:

(All icons made using Rayman's Rabbids)

Talent - I haz it.

No, really.

Ur underwear, I seez it.

I does, too.

Have fun!


Jan. 9th, 2008 03:53 pm (UTC)
My husband said, with our first, "I'm not bothering to argue discuss girl names because I know it's a boy. I shot the bullet, I know what I shot." The ultrasound indicated he was right.

I went home and smacked him in the arm.

The second time around, he decided he wasn't going to bother discussing boy names. The baby had its back turned the first time around and the doctor couldn't get a good look at its heart-- the anti-social little beast-- so we were scheduled for a second ultrasound on January 26, 2004. That was the day of the Northridge earthquake. There was some talk about a conspiracy at this point.

I got the results of the baby's sex after the third time we set an appointment, went home and smacked my husband in the arm. Our daughter is still a little stand-offish to this day.

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