Origamic

Here's something you didn't know about me (unless you are my stalker, in which case I'm calling the police at this very moment):

I used to do origami when I was a little kid.

You are now saying to yourselves, "And this is relevant becaaaause....?"

To which I reply, with a faintly panicked edge to my voice, "Have you ever made a pillow case?"

Seriously, people.  Pillow cases.  Who knew?  Who knew that they would require the engineering skills of a NASA scientist?  The mental acrobatic abilities of, say, flippin' Stephen Hawking?  The origami skills of, uh, an eight year old?

Whatever.

You may recall that I purchased (or was given) this fabric, which I claimed I was going to use to make pillow cases for the kids. 

Amazingly, I actually made.... pillow cases for the kids.  (I know.  I'm as shocked as you are.)  But I didn't want just any ol' pillow cases.  Oh no.  I wanted good pillow cases.  You know.  The kind with the little flappy thing on the inside that keeps the pillows from flopping out?  That thing. The kids have a set of pillow cases like this that are actually pretty nice (as they came from Pottery Barn) and I figured I’d use one as a pattern.  So I did a little investigating to see how they were put together.

Apparently they were not, as I previously believed, put together by 8-year-old slave laborers in Saskatoon but rather by fabric manipulation geniuses... er... geniii... er... smart people. 

Or perhaps (based on my ability as an 8-year-old to create flippin' walruses out of paper but my complete inability as an adult to put together a freakin' pillow case) perhaps they were put together by 8-year-old slave laborers.  Regardless, it took me two tries with the complex fabric folding to get the little flappy thing and encased hems to come out right.  But come out they did.

Ta da!  Pillow Case au Flappy Thing.  Deux.

 

(If I was a good person, I would maybe write up a tutorial on how to do this complex fabric folding amazingness. 

What?  You know perfectly well that I’m not a good person.  Sheesh.)

weatherchannel

 

If I wanted to live in Houston, I would.

Just saying.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

One of the disadvantages to having two babies in a year (other than the obvious utter physical despair) is that said babies grow up basically thinking of themselves as… one unit.  Joined at the hip.  Peas in a pod.  Creepily synchronized like children from The Village Of The Damned, if you will.  And of course, what One has the Other must have too. 

Does it matter that their figures are so dissimilar they don’t look like the same species, let alone like siblings?  No.  They must still have the same freakin’ clothes.  But only when the mood takes them. 

They’re called The Evil Monkeys for a reason, people.

I bought this garment for TLo in June:

It did not remotely come close to fitting her.  So I gave it to The Big One instead.  You’d think I gave away the flippin’ kitten or something.  So, I promised to make TLo a top just like it.  Um.  In June.  

So here we are.  BurdaStyle 7/2010 #144.  “June”.  “July”.  Whatever.

Even though this pattern is for knits, I figured it would be fine with the plaid seersucker I bought (you know, in –ahem- June).  I also converted the ties to regular shoulder straps with lingerie hardware.  Mostly because the original garment had those and that seemed to factor highly in TLo’s covetousness of it.

This pattern had two variations, one as a top with a waistband and one as a dress with a hem ruffle.  I used the top length for the bodice and then added the ruffle.

I had a really hard time getting good pictures of this one. 

Possibly because TLo’s inner superstar kept coming out.