San Onofre State Park Campground. Sardine Camping for the Seasoned Flea Market Vendors.

I imagine that's what it would feel like, sitting in your tent right in the parking lot, staring at the road and hundreds of other tents.

It's amazing to me that this place is booked often and hard to get into.  I was *lucky* enough to call when there was a cancellation, and booked spot #114.  Previously, Mr Snork had booked spot #94, but after paying we discovered it was a handicapped acc. spot, and you need to have a placard to check in. When I called to change the reservation, I was SO excited they had another spot that I took it, and considered myself lucky.  All the rest were booked.  Because, clearly, it's an awesome, super popular place.

Then I read some Yelp reviews.  (2.5 stars, I believe)   And then giraffy chanced upon some google images, and we started to have doubts that two tents could fit.  She has an 8-10 person, I think.  I have a 6 person with vestibule, so the footprint of an 8-10 person.   My other camping friend has a backpacking 2 person tent, so, presumably, she and her husband can camp in a tree if needed.  No concerns there.

The google image that tipped us off.  

It's a pricey site, at $35 a night, plus $15 second vehicle fee per night.  Plus, $8 reservation fee.  So, $108 for two nights.  But that's a small price to pay for two glorious nights by the ocean, and campfire.  I can't really hope for stars in our area, but I'll take what I can get.

Unless, I get this:

That's a drop off behind that picnic table.  

This is spot #114.  For comparison, this is my tent:

But let's rewind.  Spot #114 is actually one of the better spots.  Spot #113 next to it is the campground winner, with it's own little island of dirt and bushes.  And a faraway ocean view.  It could be bearable.

#113.  They have a spot for a tent that is not within 2 feet of the firepit.  Win.

#114 is definately jealous of #113.  And can use their firepit. 

But let's talk about spot #94, the original reservation.

WTF #94

That is a wall of dirt behind it.

A dirt wall that you can't climb.

And climb it you'd have to, to see any ocean.  Which is far, far down below.

The bench is a nice touch.  

 I guess the description does say you're in the bluffs.  But I feel the description should, somewhere in there say - "waaaaay closer to I5, and railroad (practically on top of) than the ocean.

I5 + railroad view from site.

 You would for sure not hear the waves.  But you do hear the I5.  And, I imagine passing trains.  The google images we had seen made it look bad, but you must realize that is actually much worse in person.

The depth perception is off in this photo.   It looks much larger than it is.  I'm standing maaaaay be five feet from the picnic table, and I'm touching the Dirt Wall Bushes.

I consider myself a pretty flexible camper.  I don't need bathrooms.  I don't need showers.  (They have flushable portapottys and cold outdoor showers).  I'm pretty excited when there's just a water spigot in the vicinity and a view of some sort.  And, I guess, a place for the tent.

So, back to spot #114.  Which, to be fair, has ocean view.  And instead of a wall it has a drop off, which I guess is a little better.  Unless you have a 2 year old to keep track of.  Which I do.   There's also one of may be 3 trees, in the whole campstrip, hanging right over the table.  Good for shade.

That picnic table there is chained into the ground, with about 6" of slack.  And is placed in the most inconvenient spot.   I *think* I could fit my tent sideways, in front of the picnic table.  Right in between the two fire pits. and in front of my car, possibly touching the picnic table and car.  There would be no room for a second tent of any size.  Or any room for Mouse to roam.  It was hard enough to keep her away from the fire pit at O'Neill park, with its vast space, trees, twigs, and pebbles (and passing horses)  to play with.  I'm pretty sure keeping her away from the firepit with only the immediate 5 feet of dirt around it available for play would be a weekend's job on its own.

I think what I'm really getting at is that you can't go there with children.  Once you pitch a tent, small as it may be, the play area is SEVERELY limited.  You're between a wall (if you're lucky) or a drop off, and the road.  With firepits everywhere.  And picnic tables.

 It makes me sad that the state is so greedy, they stuffed all these "camp" spots in this place.  Had they reduced the number of camp spots, it would still not be ideal, but at least, you could spread out laterally, pitch a tent not on top of the firepit, and have some space.  But California is greedy and has money management issues, so, they would rather stuff you like sardines into a dirt patch, and disclose very little about it online.  I notice other, actually nice places have things like thumbnail photos of each campsite.  San Onofre doesn't, because nobody would show up.  Instead, they have a very vague and inaccurate map, and advise you that "depending on size, 1-3 tents fit per site".  No site there fits 3 tents of any size.  They are liars.

I read in some reviews that spots 1-10 were the best.

You're on a bluff.  For real. 

I liked them.  The view is nice (note lack of dirt wall), you don't have drive far into the flea market - like jungle, but you do need a 2 person tent to pull it off.  And, as anywhere else on this campground, you have to cross fingers that yours or neighbors' fire pit sparks don't ruin your tent.

Some other considerations:  smoke -  you know how you end up shifting around campfire depending on where smoke is blowing?  Well, here you can't.  There's probably a tent, a picnic table, or a vehicle next to you.

The beach - is a hike.  It's pretty, and I bet it's great when you get down there.  Lots of rocks I hear.  Very little sand.

Noise - It's like camping with 90 people at once.  I can't even imagine.  The reviews agree.

Group camping sites were lovely.  With space, ocean view, and shade.  $225 a night as of Sept 2013.

Conclusion:  I think a couple spot in the place (1-10, 66, 113) could be nice.  For a couple, a small tent, a little getaway by the beach with ocean view.  Especially if you plan on going down to the beach for most of the day.  (Will people steal your stuff while you're gone?  Probably.)

 Most of the other spots are like a camping version of prison.  Some actually back up to chain link fence.  Which isn't a huge deal, but when your camp spot is 7 feet wide.. it takes away from the scenery.  Also, the park is a liar.  Their map is crap, and I feel they intentionally mislead people.  I hope that more photos of this depressing little dirt patch crop up on the internet, so that people know to plan elsewhere.

UPDATE:  Reserve America will apparently refund your cancellation fee, and your reservation fee if it turns out that you can not physically fit your tent in the spot.  Good.to.know.

Born to Run. The Disneyland Half Marathon.

It's been so long since I've blogged, (I've had time to grow a whole o t h e r human.  Not Mouse, a second one.) that I don't remember if I've mocked Mr Snork's reading and implementing tips from a book called Born to Run.  I don't even remember what the book was about, possibly a barefoot runner and a remote tribe of barefoot running people in Mexico - I can't say, but one thing that's come out of him reading that book is the title is forever stuck in my head.  As in, Mr Snork is most definately NOT born to run.  He's tried it barefoot, and with trail shoes, and with supportive shoes, ..  and no matter how he tries, stuff always happens, blisters, cramps, mysterious pains, sprains, etc.  Sometimes, he needs only to jog a block before one or several ailments nail him.  NOT born to run.  Not at all.

But, it's turned out that quite possibly, I WAS born to run.  I think if I was less lazy and less into Scrabble in high school, and joined a track team, I'd be really good at it.  As it is, I'm nothing special, except that, I can do it.  Barefoot.  In socks.  In Zems.  In New Balance Minimus, in Sketchers GoRun (favorite).  Once I got going, at the tender young age of 28?  27?  I've had very few issues with it.

Most recently, I took a year and a half off.  I think.  Littlest is 7 months.  So, 7 months of her being here, and last 6 months of the pregnancy I have done zero things related to fitness.  Eeeevery once in a while I would make an effort, but once you get out of shape, man..  it's just not there anymore.  And once you grow out of your fitness clothes you have nothing to wear to the gym.  Or outside.  And you can't go to the gym naked.

So, I embraced eating every kind of thing, and lounging.  And maternity clothing.  I love maternity clothing.  Pants that look like slacks but are actually elastic waisted?  Stop it.  Why wear anything else, ever.

And then, recently, I've been sort of trying to get back in shape.  ONLY because while I adore my maternity clothes, it's a limited repertoire.  And I have this whole giant closet of the "other' clothes.  And the Lululemon skirts.  I am pretty sure I can't afford to replace them all two sizes bigger.  And, if I decided to have another baby, I feel like stacking a pregnancy on top of a really out of shape body might inspire me to just quit ever trying.   Embrace my 5 month belly, and invest in eternal wardrobe of empire waisted things.

So, I've been attempting to run.  And it's sucked every time.  The second wind is not there, and the cardio isn't, and I'm bigger, so my knees complain, blah, blah.  Also, STILL lazy, and very inconsistent and it's hard to build cardio when you go once every 2 months.

 A little bit ago, Littlest turned 6 months, and I signed her up for the 24HourFitness KidsClub.   Paying for two kids now, is almost as much as out membership, so I make it a point to go at least 5 times a month.  To at LEAST break even.  Because it would kill me if 24Hour got $ for free, and after all,  since I checked out for the past 13 months (Mr Snork followed suit), really they made a great year off us.  No more.

So I've gone 5 times, may be.   Ran 3 miles each time.  Last week, I ran 4 with OCRunClub.  And this Sunday I ran a half marathon.  That's 13.1 miles.  That's 10 more miles than I've run anytime since more than a year ago.  In something like 3:08.  My Garmin says the actual 'moving' time was 2:49.  Initially, I was hoping to be able to speed walk it just in time to avoid getting swept off the course.

AND.  Not only did I do it, I only spent one day afterward feeling like my legs might actually fall off.   I put those thing on ice, and crossed my fingers.   Second day was just faintly sore.   Third day (today) I feel just fine.  And, a little bit great, because I'm so proud of myself.

 It was really hard, and I was going to walk the 'rest of it'  on and off from mile 6 on.  I walked all of mile 12.  And all, ALL aid stations.  Which, bless Disney, there were quite a bit off.  Just when you start to lose hope and faith in your feet, shoes, weather, and decisions in life, an aid station would crop up, with all the super nice people cheering and handing you water (or doughnuts), and all would be OK again.

At first, I thought I'd puke for sure.  But then, it was the best thing.  EVER.

The 'magic in every mile helps'.  Vintage cars, hip hop dancers, cheerleading squads, etc, perk you up.

Princesses along the way?  Check

Motivational posters?  Check.

Monkeys with cymbals?  Check.

  If you were to run a half marathon with no training whatsoever, the Disney one is definately the one.  I got to dress up like Piglet.  Because it was the Disneyland half marathon, and Piglets are welcome, and my friends were already Pooh, Eyore, and Tigger.   I sewed a Piglet shirt the night before, so, I got to run, sew, burn 1300 calories,  get an awesome medal,  and at LEAST (I lost count running through stadium full of kids) 30 "Go Piglet!"s.

13 months of lazy = lots of JoAnn's trips.  A bolt of sparkly Piglet fabric in the closet?  Check.

 Piglet tried hard to bail a few times on the whole running thing, but every time, the rest of the group would slow down, wait up, and I'd feel like I could run again.  Sometimes they'd trick me.  Like, "hey, after that light pole, you could totally run".  And it seemed like I totally could.  Weird.  Group running is key.  A lone Piglet would have veered off course around mile 5, found a nearest InnOut, and would have called her husband to come get her.

Piglet has no resolve on her own..

And now, I'm excited about running again.  Because it turns out, I still can.  I might slowly let go off the cookie dough addiction.  I registered for the Holiday Half.  (Snowflake medal!).  I got some Lululemon running pants.   (to hide the cookie dough thigh situation that's a thing right now...) and I'm looking up fancy running medal racks.   Because running is just not fun when you do it the cheap way.  :(

Must.have.

 I'm getting Mr Snork back into it with me.  He's amazing as pit crew (shielding me from children while I sew, getting all my stuff charged and ready, and showing up at the finish line with a McGriddle), but I love it when we run together.  Mostly, to talk sht, about how, he definately, was not born to run.  But, possibly, and in light of recent events, very likely - I was.  HA!

Best McGriddle ever had by a human being anywhere, ever.

Obsession Du Jour - Dolls, (and getting them for freeee.)

Also known as obsession #478567.

I have a bit of an obsessive compulsive personality.  When I was little I thought the world would come crashing down if I stepped on a crack between cement tiles, and it made for very long travel times to the playground.  So, it could be worse, I could be compulsively licking lamp posts and other random objects, and instead I cultivate the obsessive side of my personality. 

I'm on the fence, between thinking it's creepy and unseemly for a woman my age, but then I think of all the old ladies who collect dolls, who,granted, I think are creepy, and it seems alright that I just want one little doll, mostly to practice my tiny doll sewing for.  

Not just any dolls.  What I wanted was a Magic Attic doll.  Partially because I stumbled upon my little sister's American Girls catalogue, and Mr Snork informed me we could afford nothing in there.  (Not even the stuffed raccoon that comes in a tiny tin trash can, for $40, to accompany the $300 camping trailer with a fold down bed).  

And partially because after that I decided their dolls are dumb anyway.  They all look the same.  Poo on you, $95 doll with no personality and funny looking thighs.  I don't care that you come with a book.  Your outfits cost more than mine, and it's just not good for my self esteem.

My stepmother had dug out a no name but pretty doll for $3 at Goodwill, and long, methodical Saturday morning Google image search of every doll image available (on the worldwide web) turned out it is Megan, of the Magic Attic Club.  An obsession was sparked.

This is my sister's Megan.  (My sister is 11, so only one of us is creepy).

A quick Craigslist search turned up a couple Megan's in New York and Ohio, and a couple of her sisters a little closer to to home, but not quite.  I also stalked Ebay, but it's hard to shell out $40 for a doll when my stepmother paid $3.  It's not good for my psyche.  AND, I'm almost 30, so my dolls would really need to be free, so I can tell people it was an accident.

"I don't know how I ended up with that.. I bought a car, and it was rolling around in the back seat..."

Fast forward to this last weekend, when a doll surfaced in Oceanside.  After some mild haggling, for $20.  With 'extras'.  Extras, is doll speak for all the doll crap that should naturally come WITH the doll,  because there's no other use for it, but instead, people will charge you $10-$30 per outfit, shoe, and anything that doll's ever touched and that originally probably came in the box with her.  Not that I'm bitter. 

But this Oceanside lady was very reasonable, and for $20, she set a trash bag of doll, and all her worldly belongings on her porch with an empty envelope for payment.  Like every good Craigslist transaction should be. 

Meet Alison:

I found that Mr Snork gets really creeped out when he finds the doll staring at him, so naturally, I've spent larger portion of the weekend staging the doll off to his side, or behind him, with an inquisitively tilted head aimed right at him.  When he's watching football..washing dishes...stripping some furniture..googling Ebay rates for doll sales...  

And, speaking of Ebay, ridiculously priced doll accessories, and American Girl phenomenon.  Couple blocks down after we picked up the doll trashbag, was an estate sale, where I picked up a pink doll trunk, and a shoe box filled with doll crap.  Mr Snork almost stopped talking to me, in a "are you seriously going to fill our house with doll shit in your old age" kind of way, but I was too busy mourning a doll bed someone swiped right from under me to pay him any attention.

Last night, I put some doll stuff on Ebay.  3 people have excersized the Buy it Now Option, and as of last night, Alison was officially free and paid for.   The doll trunk and the shoe box of doll crap, also paid for.   Couple other items have bids.   I have a feeling our gas and lunch expenses that day will be paid for shortly as well.  And, I have more doll crap to list.   Woot.

Apparently, I arrived at the sale too late for a doll bed, and possibly a doll (I'm assuming there was one), but just in time for shoe box of "extras".   It appears that AG 'extras' not only sell at stupid prices, but after they become discontinued and replaced by more ridiculous extras, they become "retired" and even more sought after.  Score.

Needless to say, Mr Snork is talking to me again.   Now I gotta go ship some stuff.

My Name is Snork, and I Meet People off the Internet

Stacy at Moderate Means inspired this post, when she wrote, “Why I blog”. To her, it was overcoming negative reactions or indifference from people in real life, and finding people online she can relate to. She’s the one who wrote about cloth sandwich bags, (which Jesse vetoed so fast, you’d think I was going to use his favorite tshirts to make them) She is also where I read about cloth Christmas bags (Jesse approved). And peanut butter muffin doughnut type things.

Jenny at Chronically Uncool made sewing dresses, old vintage dresses from vintage patterns, even, look cool. It was cool to me, anyway. It helps that’s she’s funny, and documents her failures as well, if not better than her successes. I don’t know anyone in real life who sews. Clothes. Let alone o l d clothes.
And I just about peed my pants when Thrift Store Mama talked about almost breaking down and crying at a thrift shop when she found a fantastic dollhouse super cheap.

I love reading the blogs, and I love writing them, because it lets me "share back", so to speak. I don't know a lot of people in real life who will be excited about my Dumpstered Board Games or my failed duct tape "dress form". Stacy’s post made me think about how internet affected my life. I’m talking a complete social overhaul, if you will.

(Pull up a chair, this is gonna be long and deep. Think Titanic. Complete with couple tear jerker moments). If you're new, I am not usually this wordy. Well, I am, but I edit out half a post each time I post.

When I heard about people meeting their significant others on the internet, I used to think of them with pity. What tragic lack of social skills. What horrible things have happened to them in their childhood that they can’t just meet people out and about. Last time I went to a grocery store, there were swarms of PEOPLE there. Live, real people. I got a date at a supermarket once. I mean, in my case, it turned out that what I thought were eccentric Orange County highlights under the gentle vegetable isle lights turned out to be a full head of gray next day at lunch. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I was 25. Three vacation houses in Europe were a nice touch, but at 52 years old, I had to let him go. This teaches us two things:

-Always wear your glasses when shopping in dimly lit grocery store isles.
-You can pick up a strapping lad with 3 European houses in Vons on Bristol Street. (*It was a few years ago, I’m sure that particular one is off the market)

Eharmony? Match.com? Probably all psychotic socially awkward serial killers. The men and the women. Because normal people just meet other people outside. In school. In a library. Etc.

And then I ended up freshly moved to California and single. I really liked SoCal. But I was alone, and sometimes lonely. I had been a member on one message board, where I went at night after work. . My best friend was in Chicago. We talked on the phone. My mom is in Chicago. I knew a couple nice people at work, but for the most part, they were older people with families.

I got good at doing things by myself, which I highly advocate. I was lonely if I sat around the house endlessly. Some people are OK like that. But I missed my friends. I missed people. And after skulking around my apartment for a little while, knee deep in self pity, I started taking myself places, even if I didn’t want to go. This suggestion actually came from the message board I was a member of.

Sometimes, you don’t really realize that you’re being a pathetic loser, until somebody points it out to you. They were gentle, in light of my recent and sudden singledom, so they gently suggested I go out and DO things. I would mentally make a deal with myself, that if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t ever go again (to that particular venue).

I had never really done stuff by myself. Even if I did snowboarding slopes by myself, I was always meeting my friends later at the bar. Anyway, I went and I never had a bad time. The most awkward part was getting there and getting started. There were groups of people, and couples, and I felt like all of them were pointing at me, going, “Look at that sad chick. She doesn’t even have friends. She’s probably very socially awkward. Possibly a serial killer. Let’s throw a snowball at her”.

I have massive delusions of grandeur, apparently, because in a minute, I’d work myself into thinking that the whole mountain/beach/desert/bar was looking at me like I sprouted a knee out of my forehead.

Of course, nobody ever did. (Except that one time when I camped in Gorman alone, but that was my fault, I was acting w e i r d and deserved sideway looks). I had a great time alone. If I was feeling chatty, I could always corner the person sitting next to me on the lift into a 3 minute long conversation. If this one jumped off early, I’d get another chance at the next lift ride.

The awesome thing about doing things you love is that you can meet other people who do the same thing. It’s almost a guarantee that if you’re out surfing, the other people bobbing on waves around you either really like surfing, beach, and the ocean, or they’re having a really bad day. Either way, they are not there to figure out if you have friends and/or social dysfunctions or not.

Eventually, I was really comfortable doing things by myself. Sometimes I made friends, sometimes I didn't. I didn’t n e e d other people to have fun and be happy. I still think that’s key to being happy.

However, there are things that you do need other people for. Like volleyball. You can’t very well look normal if you try to man both sides of the court. Isn’t good for friend making, either. So, same board, another suggestion: Craigslist.

Ever since that *real* serial killer, Craigslist is kinda under fire. But, if you’re to be smart about it, I think fun can be had. I found a couple volleyball groups, under ‘activites’, went, and had tons of fun. Couple years later, the volleyball groups moved to Meetup.com, where you can search by hobby, and there’s a good chance there are clubs in your area that have groups for that hobby. They have scheduled meetings, trips, etc. Some cost money. Many are free. It depends on the nature of the hobby. My friend Heather found a hiking group there. I am a member of 4 different volleyball groups.

After volleyball, we’d go for food and drinks on the pier. I was meeting people. In real life. Through arranged meetings on internet. Through websites I found because a person on a message board told me. I always eyeballed jealously people playing volleyball on the beach. They must have grown up here. They do this often. They all know each other. I was too shy to just jump in. And now, I was one of those people, playing volleyball, on the beach!

On a couple of different message boards, I posted dirtbike questions. I had this motorcycle, and I had no idea what made it run, even. It is all (still) a mystery. I made friends with 'progirlz'. She was nice. We talked and emailed. She knew stuff about dirtbikes, she rode them, and her husband worked on them. She suggested a couple different sites. I went to dirtbike tracks, and met people she knew (in real life), that she introduced me to on the internet. Three years ago, she invited me to her house on Christmas.

I was telling Jesse on our way to her house this last Christmas about how I had pulled into the neighborhood three years ago, surveyed it for signs of serial killers, and sat parked in the car. I had driven an hour to get there. But this was some internet lady! Jesse and I laughed when her husband was telling us how he had raised eyebrows when she had invited me the first time. “You invited a girl from the internet to dinner? How do you even know it’s a girl?? Is she a serial killer?” What kind of a person even accepts, right? The kind that was reeeeally lonely alone on Christmas.

Anyway. We had dinner. We rode dirtbikes. We chatted. She even got me a box of tea for Christmas. It was like I already knew her. I kinda did.

I now had a REAL LIFE girlfriend who RODE bikes! (Hi Kelli!!) It really couldn’t get better. Not to mention I had a wonderful Christmas that year.

Some time later, ThumperTalk (.com) organized a Ladies Weekend. Ladies, dirtbikes, ranch. For a weekend. When Jesse and I went camping for Thanksgiving, it was really cold, and my friend Denise had made us a bed in her trailer, cause she was pretty sure we would need the space to recover from intermediate frostbite in our tent (we ended up sticking it out, but it almost makes you warmer knowing you have options). Her husband Dave made us a mini turkey dinner in the evening, while Jesse and I watched Star Wars in their trailer.
That night when I awkwardly camped by myself at Gorman, my girlfriend Karen came at 6 am next morning, for a ride. (I was really excited for the rest of the campsite to see that I actually DID have friends. HAH.) My girlfriend Sarah and MaryAnn went with me to Moab Utah, to do some dirtbike riding on a couple different trips. I met all of them at that internet organized Ladies Weekend. You wouldn't even know that a lot of us met on the internet, except sometimes around the campfire, people call me Snork.

My friend Heather is coming over tonight with the kids, we can talk about how terrible gym was yesterday. Heather came from that very first board, that pushed me towards Craigslist and Meetups. We’ve only been hanging out for a little over a year, but it feels like I know her longer. I kinda did, before we started walk/jog/jalking together. She was funny on that message board. (She turned out to not be a serial killer also, which pleased me). A little more than a year ago some guy was actively stalking my posts on that same board. Such a creep. And then he got himself a dirtbike, moved down to SoCal, and asked me to marry him this last Christmas.

Every time I moved to a new place, I would feel like that’s IT, this time I’m *definitely* too old to make new friends. Everybody else *already* has friends.

I have awesome friends in ‘real life’, but if I thought about it, I could trace back how it all started, and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.


*PS. If one WAS to go internet route, please use caution. I brought pepper spray to my SECOND date with Jesse, and was ready to douse him with it head to toe if he were to turn a slightest shade of shady. I brought it to the first date with Heather, too, but I looked her over and decided I could take her manually if need be.

*PPS Craigslist is like, 2/8 ratio of normal/possible serial killer. Keep that in mind. I once sold a desk there, and the guy called me later to tell me it fell out of the truck on the 405 and cause massive accidents. He was kidding. Apparently, he thought mass fatalities on the 405 were funny. Talk about socially awkward.

*PPPS I just LOVE Eharmony commercials. It puzzles Jesse every time, but I just think it’s the greatest thing ever. It’s like my internet friends thing, but people are bypassing ‘friends’ and going straight for husband/wife. Flippin awesome. I know 3 success stories from there. I would be curious to know if there are any failure stories. Somewhere, there must be a message board for that. But I’d probably have to pay a monthly due..

Sewing your own clothes?

It's the treadle's fault. I feel it looking at me scornfully. When I got it, it came with drawers full of bias tape, trims, bobbins already wound with all types of colours, threads, and magazine articles about clothes. It clearly made stuff in the past. It makes me want to. Plus, I have to prove to Jesse that I CAN and WILL actually use it, in case I need to argue in the future for another piece I find and want to drag home.

On one hand, aka, The Bad:

Cost. The pattern at $15-20*, fabric at $9/yd, plus thread and things like bias tape, interfacing, ribbons, or zippers, or, if you’ve vowed never to use zippers, cause they’re scary – then hooks, (3.67 for package of four!!!! – I know I won’t be sewing any alluring-hooks-down-the-entire-length of the back pieces. Whatever I make had better get closed up with 3-4 hooks, and the rest of world will be subjected to the rest. There’s also slithering into outfits that have no open/close features, and knit fabrics, which, I hear stretch) – stuff is expensive. A dress on clearance at Gap is, like, 16.99 (It won’t be the pretty dress, but definitely structurally sound).

Time. Drive to Gap from my house – 3 minutes. Sewing a dress – 2-3 weeks, and 80 cups of tea. And, it’s very likely (absolutely certain) that it takes someone in China same amount of time to whip up a shirt, that it takes for me to cut out the pattern pieces and decide if I’m size 6 or 14, or something in between. By the time I have a 4th cup of tea, figure out the right side of fabric, and spread my patterns to cut out, FedEx is flying the dress over to Gap. Or Ann Taylor Loft**. Wherever.

On the other hand, aka, The Good:

If I was good at it, I can probably make some nice outfits. Which I’m not. But I could be.

With today’s fashion (of which I have no concept) you can leave your house in just about anything, as long as you manage to wear it with a straight face and look at ease.

It helps to live in Southern California to maintain this kind of mentality. Where furry Uggly boots are OK with tiny shorts and bikini tops, how badly can I screw up, really. If you spend a day tugging on your hemline and adjusting shoulders, people might assume your dress doesn’t fit. If you wear a dress proudly, never mind that it’s turned ¾ backwards, has selvage edge for hems, and rides up on your left leg like an excited puppy, people might assume that’s a dress so exquisite only you and a few privileged models somewhere get to indulge. At least this is what I tell myself.

Why I like the idea of it:

I am oh so cheap. The only patterns I ever bought were $3 max during sales at JoAnn’s, (Or less. Very likely, that less). Helllo JoAnn's midnight madness sale and 99c McCall patterns (Fresh from today. Cause I don't have enough never opened patterns I have yet to fail at):


There's also a few I got for 10c at Debbie's Attic. I'm pretty sure a 50's dress is exactly the kind of thing my closet is missing.

I am oh so cheap part deux: I don’t even go look at regular priced fabric. If it's shiny, and beautiful, and I can picture myself in it (And I CAN), I will want it. I know this, so I don't look. I am just not that good, and watching a $9 yard fabric get mutilated would make me cry. 2-3 weeks is a lot of crying. Hello JoAnn’s clearance aisle and 50% off coupons, aka, Pretty Flowery Purple Fabric for $1.50 a yard. I always look for fabric stashes at garage/estate sales, but all I got so far are yards of beautiful silk that I’m way too afraid to cut into, even though they were a $1 for 2-4 yards a piece.


I guess those chicks were all good. They didn’t wander the clearance aisle looking for a print that isn’t cats. They went straight for the good stuff. They probably knew how to use zippers. Whatever.

I also found an enormous amount of purple fabric, soon to become a Haloween costume. I think. Although I'm sort of intrigued by the idea of a Haloween/Real Life Hybrid dress. May be a detachable train I can leave at home when heading to a mall. All I know is I can rock some gold ribbon like it's my job.


I like it. It’s more mentally engaging than watching TV, more physically active than reading ( I can practically HEAR the calories shed themselves. sNOrT). And it’s eventually rewarding. Well, if you do it right, it’s supposed to be.

I like the idea of picking your own fabric. Hello, shiny, tye dye, and all things formally currently banned by the fashion industry.

And I like idea of eventually being good enough to know how to modify a pattern to fit me well. Right now, I'm kind of hoping to be able to follow a pattern loosely. I am still in the stages of figuring out sizes. My chest, waist and hips put me anywhere between 12 and 16. But, an experiment from few weeks ago, a simple tunic cut in 16, was an epic fail. So was a 12. It got better with a size 8 chest, size 10 butt, and 6 darts total. The darts were never intended to be part of the design, but it was thee only way I managed to not look 8 months pregnant (stiff cotton). I'm guessing I should have cut a 6/8 hybrid, but too small clothes make me unhappy. You can't undart a size into a 10.

Some day I'll learn how to post links to other posts, and I'll link this to the Purple Experiment Dress mentioned above.

Lastly, I have long harbored ambitions to make a quilt. Any failure so total that in absolutely can not be worn, will simply be cubed into the Quilt Pile. Win.

I decided for now, it's a worthwhile little hobby, complete with an incentive and reward program, a chance to look and pet shiny fabrics, and possibly make a couple things to wear so awesome no store would dare carry. Plus, it keeps me off the streets, and most importantly, out of malls.


*I have done no research that indicates either Gap or Ann Taylor Loft stuff is made in China, or shipped by FedEx. I am too lazy to pull out a label and check. The FedEx thing would be dodgy to figure out anyway.

**Any phrase that depicts quantity of matter (time, number of items, price) are likely shamelessly made up/guessed/exaggerated and ballbarked to what sounds good in my head. Actual statistical bits may, (most certainly) vary (a lot).

Coming Soon: How I want a dress form, how expensive dress forms are, how ugly dress forms are, and how I want to try wrap myself in duct tape to make a dress form.