Hi! So!

I had a day off today and I spent most of the day doing three things:

1. Going to Mill Woods.

2. Sewing.

and

3. Watching X-Files.

2 & 3 can be done simultaneously, conveniently.

Tonight--because there are hours of Day Off left, people!--I play to (a) finish the second Benedict Society book which I am reading and (b) go for a swim.

So here is a thought related to #1. Let's say you--yes, you, Internet!--are having a baby. Ask yourself this question: how are you going to be transporting this baby? Are you going to be putting it in a carseat in a huge Lincoln SUV and then into the baby-compartment of a Costco shopping cart so you can buy everything in giant flats? If this is the case, well. OK. I mean, I don't approve of your disregard for the environment, Internet. But at least you know here is going to be room in said SUV for your giant stroller. In fact, buy the largest stroller you can find! Maybe Lincoln makes one that will attach to your SUV like a motorcycle sidecar!

But if you are going to be transporting said baby on public transit, maybe you should consider buying a stroller smaller than a compact car. And here is a surefire way to know if you are going to be driving an SUV: Are you old enough to drive?

Because on the way home from Mill Woods today we had an old man in a mechanized scooter PLUS three babies in giant strollers. It was Bus Stroller Tetris. And it was absurd. It leads to all kinds of other problems including old people who don't get seats (and it drives me CRAZY when young people don't give theirs up, and lots don't, and it makes me want to cuff them around the ears like a kind of old person myself) and me having to kind of leap over my seat to get off the bus, in a very undignified (albeit graceful) way.

In relation to point number 1, again: I met some old ladies at the fabric store (which was the reason I went to Mill Woods--it's the only fabric store I know how to get to on the bus), and they told me stories about the Great Depression. I'm not kidding. When I go shopping at fabric stores, the old ladies (staff and customers) there respond in one of two ways. (a) Distrust. They look at me as if they expect me to hold up the fabric store, and can think of no other reason I would be there. (b) Disproportionate excitement. They are happy that I am there. They are happy that I am acquiring their skills--that perhaps I will, in turn, make quilts for Santas Anonymous when I am old. Hopefully--and I may be filling in the blanks here, a little--I give them hope for the future of our civilization.

And finally, in relation to point #2: I made a weird shirt and a weird jacket. Neither of them is awesome, but once I've made something once, later iterations are always an improvement. I don't like using patterns--I'm far too impatient--so every time I try to make something, there is a fair amount of visualizing, and reconstructing, and half-assed measuring, and so on. This weird jacket notion is a good one--there are many more weird jackets in my future, I'm sure.

Tomorrow I'm going to a wedding. I may wear my weird jacket, in which case you will get a picture. Hopefully there will be some old people there who will tell me about the Great Depression. Or at least a twoonie bar.