The Gathering of the Clans! (or clan, whatever).

My matriarchal tribe flocked into town 2 weeks ago from all 2 points of the compass (Ben from the North West, Jennie from the South East). Arianne was already here. They played musical houses while each family tried to find friends, neighbors, and relatives with whom to stay on assorted nights; I live in a small basement flat that holds only 1.5 people. I tried to host one grandchild per night on my couch, with our days spent at movies, games, art projects, or shopping for next birthday or Christmas gifts (so I won’t have to pay postage, and they will get what they really want.)

A few days after arriving, Jennie announced that I would be making Arabella’s 8th birthday dress to be worn to her baptism 3 days later. Of course it had to be an exceedingly exclusive dress: deep strawberry-blush duponi silk with embroidered chiffon overskirt and bolero (Bella’s choice). And, of course, Jennie took it as given that I could make it in no time flat from mere measurements and part of a wrong-size pattern. I asked her if she knew how lucky she was to be able to hand her mother a drawing and know it would turn out the way she wanted in a couple of days. “Of course,” she said breezily, rather than fawning appreciatively at my feet. Actually, she has become quite a seamstress herself for select occasions, but she gives the hard stuff to me.

So I started with a mock-up and 2 fittings, then made the bodice and lined it. There really wasn’t quite enough lace for the bolero, so I had to squeeze it into several too-small pieces, and re-embroider the borders myself. In order not to stretch the fabric, I put scotch tape over the border areas, then machine embroidered over the tape, trimmed the excess fabric, and finally pulled the tape out from under the embroidered scallops. Pretty neat! But what was my HORROR to find I had cut the pattern too small, and the bolero fronts would not meet! It was almost 2 a.m. at that point. I shed a few tears, crashed into bed, and hardly slept. I sobbed my failure to Jennie the next morning before our photographs. (A sure sign of exhaustion.)

“Just make a bow for the center space,” said Jennie. Which I did, and it looked even cuter that way than it would have with only a rhinestone button on the bolero. (If any men are reading this, I’m sure you are either gagging or sleeping at this point.) But here is my very beautiful granddaughter in her Boppie-made dress.

(See, isn’t the bow on the bolero cute?) I was well rewarded when Bella told me breathlessly that it was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen.

That left me almost 2 hours to make my own outfit for the family pictures. The blouse didn’t get hemmed, and the skirt wasn’t even started. So I stood in back where you can’t tell, rather than sit front and center where a proper Matriarch should be ensconced, worshipfully surrounded by her progeny. But the blouse looks nice on me, anyhow.

Here’s my family! I think they’re beautiful! And for darn sure they are smart and funny! (click the pix to enlarge)
And of course, the 3 little girls from each of the three families look adorable in their matching outfits! Three little pistols! (My genome doesn’t do shrinking violets.)

AVERY ADELAIDE & DAPHNE
(But where did my children come up with these names? I must flog my faded memory every time to remember each name, and who it goes with. Whatever happened to Anne, Jane, and Carol?)

(Yes, the portrait is by Becca Nae, who would only let me use this pix free if I included her name. SHE’S FANTASTIC!)

Between grandkid sleepovers, I taught Professional Career Workshops. Although I’ve been released from my mission, I still have to find and train a replacement teacher. Naturally I assume I am more lively, scintillating and entertaining than any other teacher could be, so it’s cringe-ful to see another retiree missionary tremble fearfully through lesson plans I have choreographed like a stand-up comic. But I know I’m fully replaceable. (Thank goodness!)

The following week I went BACK up to Portland (I was there only a month ago) to be fitted with an oral apnea appliance which will not require PolyGrip to glue into my mouth, nor peanut butter to scrub it out in the morning. (Yes, I also use a CPAP) On my way I stayed with a friend whose house was full – no bed for me. So I slept on their recliner. WOOOO! It was the best night’s sleep I’ve enjoyed in some time! Maybe I need to look into alternative sleeping equipment in my bedroom. (My dentist, also suffering apnea, says he and his wife’s bedroom has a bed for playtime, but a Laz-Y-Boy for him to sleep in. Hmmm. Don’t need playtime. The recliner should do it.)

Ben picked me up at the airport and took this pix with my phone. (Balloon chins from shooting too close-up.)
Wife Nicki was out of town whooping it up with her sisters and mom (Birthday) so I got to take care of her kids an extra day. For the “special outing” which Ben always takes me on when I visit, he chose the two largest fabric stores west of the Mississippi! YA-HOO! I’m sure he was bored, but he was certainly game!

(There is a teensy weensy spider climbing up its strand to my webcam in front of my computer screen as I type. The Nerve!)

The Portland technician who makes oral apnea appliances couldn’t figure out what I was requesting. So I went home to Ben’s house with the plaster casts of my teeth, made a fake tongue from red Play-doh, and positioned them all together in the way I want him to construct the gadget, and which I’m sure will work. In order for him to see the construct inside and out, I bought some fake-fingernail acrylic and solvent, and coated the Play-doh tongue with several layers. It hardened instantly, and I was able to extract the clay, leaving a perfect, transparent casing for my tongue. I know this sounds weird. But then, I’m a weird girl. However, I can usually get what I want and it usually works. (I know you are waiting breathlessly for my next blog so you can see a photo of me in my extra-terrestrial apnea appliance.)

Now I’m back home and wading through the messiest house I’ve had all year. Excuse me while I make popcorn and read a good book instead of cleaning up.