Pina colada slipdress

Am I done? Is this too much?

I began embellishing an apple green slipdress on August 26.
This is what it looked like. I shelved it for about a week while I wrestled with decision-making. There are always too many options, too many ways to go with an upcycling project like this.

This dress marked a turning point for me. Previous to this, I let my own peculiarities rule. The armpits always had to be concealed, since we raise our arms in much of the choreography we teach at the ballroom dance studio. I always asked myself, "Would I wear this, and will it fit me, in case no one buys it?"

Now I'm able to distance myself from the wearables I create. I have way too many clothes as it is! These things I make will need to find other homes. I cannot pre-judge them as potential rejects before they've even had a chance to be seen.

Once, I bought a particularly frivolous pink lace jumpsuit on etsy. I'm not one to censor myself with the ever-practical, "But where will I wear it?" The seller wrote, "I knew you were out there!" when she shipped it. I'll have to remind myself of that when I cross over to the seller side of etsy. As one of the bloggers put it, "You're not trying to convince people to buy your product. You're looking to reach the people who will."

My hero

Pensive, originally uploaded by scrollwork.

Salmon-flavored cream cheese, licked from a spoon. Oceanfish paté-style canned food. The overgrown corner of the garden that serves as both a lookout spot and Fort Kitty. These are a few of his favorite things.

"You've been home alone too long," Steve said when he heard me talking to Charlie. "You talk to the cat and the laptop." I think Steve minds only because he keeps mistaking my out-loud remarks for attempts at conversation with him.

The cat and the laptop have become my must-haves during this reinvention phase. Although I think the cat has a few more merit badges. He has singlehandedly averted empty-nest syndrome, underemployment stir-craziness, and perimenopausal mood extremes. No prescription necessary.

Blue toward blue

My morning glory seeds took their sweet time germinating, and finally, close to summer's end, one Heavenly Blue bloom. The vine was happy to twine around a rickety branch pruned from the nearby tree. 

I feel protective of it. It seems to do just fine when the wind kicks up. It just clings tighter. The soil isn't fertile or watered often, but that's how morning glories thrive.

It's keeping an eye on the sky. It doesn't know the word "impossible." It might be thinking it's a tree. By fall I hope it will at least have clambered over the fence and gotten a glimpse of what's on the other side.


It's hard to resist the urge to make it a metaphor. Late bloomers, ugly ducklings and fledgling small business owners. Check, check, check. Here's to all of us!  Let's keep our eye on the sky, and cling fast to what keeps us grounded. 


Morning glories turn their trumpets to the sky, and nothing in nature mocks them for it. They do not aspire to be blue, they embody blue.