In High Gear

Quiet Thanksgiving. I slept in, waking to the smell of rotisserie chicken that spc476 had going. His amazing GF sent over a traditional apple pie, and we had already gotten a caramel crumble type of apple pie as well. Stuffing, broccoli, cranberry. No deluge of turkey leftovers for us!

I spent most of the day working out patterns for salwar kameez, mostly in my head. I did finally get the pants pattern made, partially arrived at by reverse engineering the rare pants I have that do fit. It took two drafts on newspaper before I had something good enough to transcribe to muslin, which I then cut out and made into pants, using basting stitches and nice wide allowances. I tried these on and wore them around a little while. They were a good fit with nice draping. They’re more parallel pants than traditional salwar; I like parallel better and they look more professional. I marked up all the seams and made notes on the muslin regarding which leg is which, front vs. back, and assembly order, before ripping out all the seams, reverting the pants to a pattern again.

The top’s probably going to be a bit trickier. Getting a more form fitting shape while still being able to pull it on overhead is a new challenge for me. Am looking at lots of kameez and kurtas online to get clues on how they’re made. Patterns are rather hard to find. Simplicity has a salwar kameez pattern but it looks kind of hokey. I had heard that McCall’s has one, but I haven’t found it yet.

Am working today. It’s predictably quiet, although I’ve already blown the 100% Service Level that my friend and colleague left yesterday. Le sigh. However, we did get this gem in the email:

hi
can you say to me what occurs with my site, I have much evil to connect
yourselves above. Does Y have to you it a blocking script or have a
problem of waiter? thank you for your answer

Gotta love it.

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Or as they say in the Army, acclimatization. People acclimate to their environments. South Florida people don’t withstand cold any more than Scandinavians withstand heat. There’s no reason for derision.

I’ve lived in some freaking cold places, I’ve run around in the snow in shirt sleeves, but I’ve acclimatized. It may be the 50s but it’s freaking cold to someone who’s used to steaming all the time.

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Yay. 23 days. Sigh.

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Oh, in case you’re going to hop on that Welsh craze, here’s a pronunciation guide.

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So. Did you know that it’s cool to be Welsh these days? I didn’t. If I get another pair of mice, I’m going to name them Ioan and Ianto and call their cage Little Cardiff. It’ll be sweet.

Have I said it before, that I’m an inherently happy person? I’m an inherently happy person. I do have occasional bouts of depression, which I believe to be clinical, as I’m not recovering from some kind of trauma, far as I know, but they do pass. And even in the throes of one of these, the light can break through for a brief bit here and there.

The happiness is at its height whenever I’m enroute to somewhere. Doesn’t really matter where. So I’m happy on the train. Happy on the bike. Happy driving, happy flying. Etc. This gladness just flows hummingly through me and the colors pop.

And yet I’m such a grouch. Irascible, sometimes. Then again, maybe it makes sense, as what lets me be happy is my pessimism. If I’m wrong, things turn out well. If things go poorly, I still get the thrill of being right. Hey! Win/win!

I’m a rugged creature, and yet in constant pain, but still happy. And I noticed something terribly ridiculous yesterday. If I’m counting something on my left hand, I start with my thumb, European style. If I’m counting on my right hand, I start with my index finger, American style. When did I pick that up? And how?

I’ve become impatient with too much empty chatter. Phony sentiment. Insincere inquiries. I just don’t have time for nonsense anymore. And yet I like witty banter, fertile stuff that sparks more stuff. Words that make ideas. Small talk bores me. The hidden sides of people fascinate me.

I’m a terrible bicyclist. If I look over my shoulder to see what’s coming up behind me, I fall over. Avoiding collision is very difficult. Narrow places are a nightmare. I’m an excellent hiker. Stamina for days, and my feet seldom blister. Ten gallon bladder. Fair to middling sense of direction.

I’m a horrible housekeeper, passable cook, and unenthused gardener. I -can- but am so disinclined as to require extortion.

I’m an excellent girlfriend, but not such a great wife.

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