My Nine Legged Octopus

I drew a nine legged octopus at work today. I know they're only supposed to have eight but I thought he looked better with nine. Graceful. Mysterious. Frightning. That's what I was going for. I first was inspird by some fabric I found at Spoonflower.com.

And then my boss brought in this huge welded sculpture into the store that had legs like an octopus that curved and flowed in a cylindrical pattern and rested flat against the wall. He called it a trophy. Or an award of some sort. It intrigued me. So as the rain drizzled outside and warded off any potential customers, I drew my nine legged octopus as if it were my destiny. Well, to be honest, I am not an artist. So I was quite impressed with myself for drawing anything that even remotely resembled a familiar object. Go me. Actually, the octopus has been showing up all over the place. On dinner plates, wall art, sculptures... everywhere. So get ready for a deep sea invasion of artistic versions of sea horses, jelly fish, mermaids and octopi. Get. Ready.

So last night I had these horrible nightmares that my boss was going to fire me because the pockets on my tool belt were too ugly.I kept trying to mentally piece together an acceptable looking pocket and jolted awake every half hour thinking I had to wake up and finish it before work. Ugh. Honestly, this tool belt is like a Labyrinth. I have no map, I have no skills, I am just blindly trying to accomplish the impossible and it stresses me out.

So I decided to tackle one single piece of the toolbelt instead of trying to finish the whole thing.

POCKETS

But first off I need to gather some necessary supplies:

So... wine has no positive effect on my sewing whatsover. It basically causes me to make the same mistakes over and over and over until I want to scream and then I take another guzzle of wine and carry on. It's entirely counter productive yet it makes all my adversities seem a thousand times more bearable. I am also hoping it will help me to sleep later seeing I am running on fumes at this point.

Now, last night, while blogging about my crappy pockets, I had an epiphany. Sew the sides of the pockets on first, then sew on the face. This actually worked. Now, I'm not sure if this is the most efficient method of creating pockets, but my results were encouraging.

It looks like a box-ey pocket!! However, sewing the sides on first led me to yet another unforeseen problem... an inability to properly center the piece!! So, though I have a well structured pocket, I have no room to sew on a flap because I have misjudged the amount of room I was going to have above the piece and below the hemline.!! Tragedy! Now I have to create ANOTHER God forsaken, useless pocket on another mock tool-belt before I can finally make a wearable item! I know this is all a part of the learning process but sometimes I feel like I am going to make my best piece while I am sewing with my scrap fabric... it will be too ugly to wear yet the expensive stuff will have crooked stitches and an off- centered pocket. grrr. I need more wine. Carry on.

Summer Projects

Even though it's been raining nonstop for the last 3 days, June is a mere 3 days away, meaning that summer will soon peek it's sleepy head through the clouds and make everything beautiful and set everything right. I have been keeping myself busy work lately, just to stay sane and keep my mind off the things in my life that frustrate me. Like how all our stuff in the garage is getting buried by everyone else's stuff, or that we still haven't heard back from Chase Bank or that our car desperately needs a tune up.

Speaking of work, while I was at Compass the other day, I realized that I don't have enough pockets. I have a box cutter, tape, mini scissors, mini stapler... all things that I have to run back and forth to use while filling orders, organizing bottles, shipping product etc... so I decide to buy a tool belt of sorts. Like a cute one. From Etsy. But it turns out... no one makes a tool belt. They make fanny packs, a hip "purses" and vendor aprons but nothing like what I am looking for. Well... there is this one girl that made these "Joey Bags" that are similar to what I need but the fabric she uses is, well, not cute enough for me. So... I guess I have to make one myself.

First things first: Learn to Sew. I don't have time for this. I need a belt now.

Next: buy fabric. easy enough.

Now I need a workspace:

... eh... it's not perfect but it's functional. I don't have a whole lot of space to work with so I am actually surprised I got a low bookshelf, storage ottoman and a lamp to resemble a desk.

Now to make a pattern. Mind you, the only experience I have with sewing is on a tiny Hello Kitty machine and I hemmed pieces of fabric until they resembled napkins. So I busted out a colored pencil and some news paper and started drawing, pinning and cutting. Low and behold, my first finished product came out looking like this:

Not bad. Actually, it ended up looking very similar to the Joey Bag on Etsy. I used a piece of scrap fabric to practice so the finished product should look a lot more stylish. I think I am going to shorten the length and make it a little wider... so it will be more oblong. and I am going to use 2 contrasting fabrics for the lining and shell. I also need to use some interfacing fabric to give it some structure. But I honestly have really high and unrealistic expectations for this belt. I mean, look at those pockets... they're terrible. And those stitches?? The tension is off and I can't sew a straight line to save my life. So my finished product might end up looking like it was made by a three year old. I know you can't see all the flaws up close but... it's far from wearable. Does anyone know how to make box pockets? How the heck do you sew all the seams onto the front of something? I mean... I made the pocket, then sewed one side to the face of my belt... and then what? Do I have to hand sew it? I ended up folding the unfinished edge under and sewing on top of the pocket, defeating the whole "box" thing I was going for. Now that I think about it... if I sewed all the edge pieces on first... then sewed the face of the pocket on to them it might work... maybe. I will have to try again tomorrow!

Progress

So, a lot has changed since my last blog... sort of. Will finally got an interview at Chase Bank after 4 months of job hunting. If he gets the job (we should be hearing back from them this week) it will mean he will have to drive an hour north of Anacortes to Bellingham every day. I know, it kills me to think of all the miles he will put on our car... and the cost of gas :/ But we have to take whatever we can get at this point. We have also put together a 6-months-to-financial-freedom plan that I am pretty excited about. 6 months of aggressive debt reduction and another 6 months of aggressively building our savings. Phew! It's exhausting even to talk about it, but every day of sticking to the plan will bring us one step closer to a place of our own, to hardwood floors, a vegetable garden and waking up feeling free again.

It's gotten harder these past weeks to keep it together. I am stifled. My creativity, my personality. I need to get out. I need to have control over my life again. I have to repeat my goals over and over like a mantra just to keep sane sometimes....

On a side note, Will painted the bedroom today. Yellow. Just like at our old place. And also just like our old place, it looks like mustard or Mac and Cheese. How did I manage to do it twice?! I thought I had learned my lesson the first time but it looks like we will be making another trip to Home Depot to fix our color mishap. Again. We also replaced the ugly red curtains, finally. Now they are white and they let in just enough light and night breeze into the room so we don't feel so claustrophobic. Will says it feels like sleeping in a tent... the curtains blow gently from side to side and turn the light in the room a soft grayish-silver. We laid in bed the other day and listened to the kids play soccer next door and to the trees rustling in the wind. Just like camping.

We also put blinds in the awkward shaped windows that face the refinery so we aren't blinded by the morning sun that creeps in a 5 am. They don't block out all the light but it's way better than before. The only problem is, that any changes we make so that we sleep more comfortably, (louder fans, mattress toppers, new sheets etc.) always throws me off for the first couple of days. Like now the room looks different in the early morning and I seem to sense it so I wake up and can't fall back asleep. This morning I was up at 5. So by 7am I kicked Will out of bed and we went on a hike before work. A nice brisk walk in the quiet, shady forrest of Washington Park. We stopped at the scenic view point at the South Bluffs and admired the turquoise water and the quiet town below... perfect.

When I got to work at 11, I saw a flier for a 10k marathon in June. I want to enter. Washington Park is 2.2 miles long and I think I can run in the race if I run the park every morning before work. I would have to run it 3 times. yikes. Will doesn't think we can do it. Party Pooper! But I feel if I spend the money on registration then it will force me to get in shape. And to spend my mornings being productive instead of with Cory Matthews and Sabrina the Teenage Witch. But I literally would have 3 weeks to train and I got up to pee just now and my ass is pretty sore from our walk this morning. Not a good sign. I think I'll sign up regardless... the money goes to support our local library's and I would much rather help our community out by getting my ass into shape than by flipping burgers like Will did this past weekend...

Will keeps getting volunteered to help out the Anacortes Lions Club by running burger trucks at the Waterfront Festival or by cleaning up parks or whatever. I, thankfully, had to be at work both these days but Will had nothing better to do so his parents offered his help to "the community". I realized recently that I really don't like our community. Is that bad? I mean, I don't relate to the people here at all and I definitely don't see myself living here long term... Everyone here is old, ugly and square!! Square, I tell you!!! Believe me, I tried finding the hip, fun people and there are none. I feel like people come here to die. If it weren't for the beauty of God's creation, this place would suck. Thankfully it has been blessed with ample amounts of nature. And a really great Thai restaurant.

Maybe if I felt like I had something to gain from Anacortes (you mean, besides financial freedom???) then maybe I would see helping out as important. But I can't. I can't even recycle. It doesn't seem important here. I mean, it IS important, just not to me. And it's not because I hate the earth or anything because I WANT to recycle and to compost and to ride my bike to work but I just can't seem to muster up enough energy to do any of it. Jolyn and Doug even have a veggie garden planted out back but I honestly want no part in it. Why? I daydream about my own garden every day so why can't I put some time into the one that's already planted? Because how can I care about those things right now when I don't even have my own place to live? When my husband is unemployed and when everything else in my life is chaos? My life is a mess. I can't fix my own life and the planet all in the same day. Not. Gonna. Happen. So, in order to start saving the planet, I must first fix my debt. Then I'll think about composting.

The Crazy

We are all a little bit crazy. There is no way around it and there are no exceptions. We freak out when someone eats all the frozen burritos, we have a melt down when our friends make us late to the movies, we slam doors and throw tantrums when someone erases Lost from the DVR. What I have discovered, though, is that certain people bring out the crazy more than others...

When I was in high school and living with my parents, I was like a time bomb waiting to explode on whomever was in my proximity... I mean, yeah I was hormonal and going through puberty like all high schoolers but everything about me screamed "bitch". Every word that came out of my mouth dripped with sarcasm, disgust and hatred... Especially when I was talking to my family. I hated my sister for being so skinny and blond, I hated my brother for never having to do chores around the house, I hated my dad for never being understanding and I hated my mom for over cooking the steak (or something else ridiculous)

I had a pretty normal family. We were middle class, my mom stayed home for most of our childhood, we went to church every Sunday and we had family dinners on a regular basis. And like most families, ours went through a divorce. I mean, yeah it sucked but I don't blame any of my problems on it. I don't blame my depression, my bulimia, my neuroses or anything else on it. We were still a family and we still loved each other. But I think it's funny that the people who are supposed to love you the most are the ones who bring out the absolute worst in you. And they judge you the harshest and the wounds they inflict on you last the longest.

There is no question that my family tip toed around the house when I was going through the worst of my Crazy. If you mentioned one word about me eating too much pizza I would scream and throw things, then go to the bathroom to throw it all up. Then I would scream at you for not stopping me. It was always your fault. I would run away from home and if you tried to stop me I would drop kick you in the driveway and pull out all your hair. For real. Crazy.

After I moved out of my moms house in 2005 my whole life changed. The control I now had over my life made me feel empowered... I didn't have to purge all my food. I didn't have to scrub the floors with my toothbrush, I didn't have to agonize over my sisters clothes being strewn all over my bedroom. My life was all mine. I didn't have to share it. The best part, though, was that I had more respect for my family... I loved them more.

As time went on, the memories of my Crazy became less and less clear; I morphed into a a productive, caring, normal person and I never had to worry about hurting the people I loved. Until one day...

Christmas 2009. Recently. We were supposed to be happy, and drunk on champagne and full of fatty foods while we opened presents. But no. Drama. All of a sudden, I lost control of who I was. I shouted,I struck, I hurt the people I loved. It scared me because I never wanted to see this side of myself again. I especially never wanted Will to see it and I think that scared me the most. I was afraid he would never look at me the same way. But he calmed me down, my family left and I went back to normal. Thank God.

Will brings out the best in me. Will makes me be a better person without even trying. I guess the point I am trying to make here, is that no matter how much you love someone or how much they love you back, there is always a part of you that can't help but act irrationally when you're around them. Less is more, in a sense. And it doesn't mean that's the "real" you.

Anyway, the reason I bring all this up is because I used to think that I suffered in this alone. But I talked to my sister-in-law the other day and it turns out, this is more common than I thought! Anyway, thanks for listning to my rant :)