On to a Better Life...

Mark tosses a grey, long sleeved jersey shirt at me. "Babe," he says to me, "It's time for this one to go on to a better life."

I've seen this shirt. I saw it when he put it on this afternoon and exclaimed over the great gaping holes between its cuffs and its sleeve, and the chewed-to-hell look of its collar and one armpit. "Sweet," I reply, thinking of my newfound friend (his mother's Singer 328) and of the book that's been sitting on my nightstand waiting for a likely victim. I hold the shirt up to look for holes and assess the strength of the rest of the fabric.

"No, babe, a BETTER LIFE. Like as brass-cleaning rags or something."
"Fuck you. You handed it to me, and there's plenty of good material here."
"Have you seen these holes?"
"Yeah. They're on the bits I intend to cut off."
"The edges?"
"Yeah. Then you make new edges. It's sweet."

He pauses to consider.
"So...you're going to cut that one down to parts... And make something else out of it?"
"Yep," I grin at him, eyes alight.
"Something... small? There's not THAT much fabric..."
I nod, still grinning.
"And...sexy?"
I nod again. "I've got a pattern for a bikini that'd never survive a pool in my book..."

"Sold," he answers, kicking back to read his book.

I fold the shirt lovingly.

Yay for more projects...

~~~~~)O(~~~~~

Started making the charms to dangle off the bracelet I've been incubating.

It won't get to her in time for her birthday (the 1st of March), not unless the wirewrapping and clayworking hobs take pity on me and spend the night whispering in my ear how to do what needs doing. But it should get to her within 10 days of the first. So that's something.

Then it's playing with shirts and formatting text to print.

And keeping a house in order and a child civil.

Life could be worse. :)