The first stages of any project seems to be a rearranging of sorts. My neat folded piles from earlier have been rearranged into these new piles, all interfaced and waiting for my stitchery.
After a brief, albeit powerful nervous breakdown I came to the realization that interfacing is not of the devil and I -do- know how to sew. I did not require medication and progress ensued.
I tried calling Cami first but her phone was out of order. I told her when I reached her by cell that it was sort of like calling the suicide hot line and being asked to hold. I need help now, damnit! So I bit the bullet and called my mom's house. No big deal one might think. Well, my mother has been visiting in Washington State for the past almost two weeks. Her husband, left behind with only a little wiener-type dog for company kept me on the phone for THIRTY minutes. I had to call HIM to get my mom's cell number so I could ask her for help. She laughed rather maniacally when I told her the length of our conversation. She needs to go home. I think her man is getting a little lonely.
Turns out I just needed someone to listen as I talked my way through my first time with interfacing. That's all anyone really needs for their first time, a willing ear to listen to how horrible it was. Are we still talking interfacing? I digress. . .
I won't get any sewing done until maybe Sunday so all you crafty vixens will have to wait till next week for another sling report. Till then, carry on.