The boys and I braved 50-degree temperatures, squeaky car brakes and raging PMS for a quick trip to Wal-Mart today. I was in need of baby blue thread, and Neil not being home, I couldn’t just run out on my own. Waiting until Monday was out of the question because I really wanted all three of the last scarves completed and in my Etsy shop immediately. Patience is not my strong suit. So into the car we piled, amid I don’t want to go out‘s and why can’t we stay in our pajamas all day‘s and I think you should just go and let us stay home‘s and (my personal favorite) Hey! I wanted to get in first! He can’t get in the car first! I wanted to get in first‘s.
Since leaving the whiny people behind in the driveway to debate the merits of being seated first was not a viable option, I soldiered on, bringing them with me. A few minutes on the road softened them to the idea of shopping, and I had just started to let myself think that this wouldn’t be a terrible trip after all, when they saw it: Stewarts. The only place Mom lets them have ice cream and frozen root beer floats for lunch. Can we go to Stewarts? Pleeeeeeease? Had I responded with my gut, I’d have said “You have got to be kidding me! The last thing I need today while your father is out of town and I am dealing with the Period From Hell is the two of you hyperactive on a liquid sugar lunch!” My cooler head prevailed, however, and what came out of my mouth was more along the lines of “I don’t think so, Sweetie. Maybe another day.”
There was a time, not so long ago, when “maybe another day” would have been greeted with a disappointed but understanding and accepting “ok, Mommy.” These days I am more likely to be barraged with a chorus of but why‘s and I’m hungry now‘s and why can’t we go to Stewarts today since Daddy isn’t here‘s. [Daddy has smartly declared his dislike of Stewarts, and in so doing has managed to render himself an obstacle to eating there.] It’s enough to make me tear my hair out. When did they suddenly decide that whining, arguing, and pestering me was a good plan? I have never given in to that. I have never given them reason to believe that persistence in this manner would pay off to their advantage. The only logical conclusion is that they enjoy seeing my head explode as I try (usually in vain) to keep my cool.
But I was trying to tell you about my scarf, wasn’t I?
Wal-Mart itself was relatively uneventful. I got my thread, and the boys asked me if they could pool their Halloween money from Grandma and buy a new Backyardigans DVD. I have to admit, I was completely won over by the idea of plopping them in front of the TV for two hours this afternoon, and I readily agreed. As we were skipping with glee to the checkout, we found ourselves in the Halloween clearance aisle. I thought about the dragon costume, which has served us through three holidays now and a number of dress-up games in between, and it occurred to me it might be fun to pick up another costume or two. A few minutes later we were the proud owners of a $4 shark and a $5 Boba Fett. Not a bad haul.
Don’t worry. I am getting to the scarf. Really.
Upon our arrival at home, we made ourselves some lunch, and sat down in front of the new DVD while we ate. I got sucked into the hour-long Secret Agent Backyardigans special episode, but I managed to tear myself away before the two regular half-hour episodes began. And that, my friends, is when I put together the new scarf.
This lovely scarf, made with prints from Amy Butler’s Lotus collection and a custom coordinating button by me, was to be an attractive 6×60-inch scarf. But something went horribly wrong. Well, not horribly wrong. You can’t even tell by the picture. Let’s just say, when I measured the fabric last week, I somehow left off about 10 inches. So, ok. 50 inches long is still acceptable, right? Sure. But I also managed to cut the width so oddly that the scarf varies from 6 inches wide at some points to 5 inches wide at others. It’s kind of wavy, and it’s noticeable.
Yes, it’s a misfit scarf, but it’s not without its charm. In fact, I would hazard a guess that the wonky part isn’t at all obvious when the scarf is being worn. It’s still got some pretty fabric, and it’s still backed by a nice, soft flannel. And of course, it still features that funky polymer clay button. So I’m going ahead and selling it anyway. With a significant discount to make up for its shortcomings. I just couldn’t relegate the poor thing to the back of a drawer somewhere. Someone will buy it and shower it with the TLC it needs. Poor little misfit scarf.
Whew. I sure said a lot for someone who initially wasn’t going to even bother posting. I thought all I had to say was “I added three more scarves to Etsy” and that would have made for an awfully short, uninspired post. I guess sitting in my dark bedroom, lights off, in my bed, under the covers, 10-String Guitar emanating softly from the laptop speakers, I found my voice. I’d keep this peaceful music on all night while I sleep, except for the fact that once in a while a voice pops out of nowhere for a 10-second promo spot and scares the heck out of me. I don’t need that kind of stress.