Vacation plans gone awry

It seems our family vacations never go as planned.  Something always happens that changes the whole mood of the trip.  Oh we start off with the best of intentions but somebody gets sick, or something breaks down, or sometimes mother nature has other plans.  This trip was no different only we had mother nature, car trouble, and technology bugs against us.

We left early Christmas morning from Minnesota headed for the Alabama Gulf Coast.  One last big family trip before our daughter, Alison, graduated high school.  We had planned to spend a few days on the beach, even if the water temperature was only around 56 degrees.  Taking in a dolphin tour and then heading to Huntsville to the NASA Space Center, so our son, Jim, could see some rockets.

We packed a cooler with some lunch meat, bread, some water and chips; knowing that there weren’t going to be to many places to stop for lunch on Christmas day.  We made it through Wisconsin and into Illinois by 10:30 am.

We had heard about winter storm Goliath, but mostly what impact it would have on the weather at home.  We thought we’d be ok if we put as many miles between us and it as we could.  I checked the weather in Mobile before we left and it said rain, but rain was better than snow, right?

Picnic lunch in December

We had driven most of the day only stopping for gas, when Al decided to stop for lunch around 3 pm at a rest stop in Effingham, Il.  (Its a real town, look it up) It was a chilly 52 degrees outside, but we needed to stretch so we grabbed the cooler and had a picnic at one of the tables outside the rest stop building.  As I pulled out the lunch meat I packed; I noticed there wasn’t as much in there as I thought.  Looking at the package date I realized I grabbed the wrong package and the lunch meat was about 3 weeks old.  Not wanting anybody to get sick, I threw it in the nearest garbage can.  Luckily Al had packed some summer sausage and I bought some peanut butter at the last gas station we were at so we were able to put together some kind of lunch.

Once back on the road we heard about the flooding that Goliath was causing in the south and wondered how it was going to affect us, but we pressed onward to Paducah, Ky.  As we got closer to Paducah, the weather reports weren’t good.  Severe flooding in Alabama and parts of Tennessee and it was only going to get worse.

We spent the night in Paducah in a motel room with 2 double beds and a sofa sleeper.  Being on the heavier side of the scale, Al and I prefer a king bed, we can both fit on a queen, but there was no way we could both fit on a double.  I volunteered to share a bed with Alison, since Al was doing all the driving and needed his rest, and Jim claimed the sofa sleeper.  But the beds were still too narrow for Alison and I to share; so she decided to sleep on the sofa cushions on the floor.

Our only choices for dinner that night were Applebee’s, where there was an hour and a half wait, or Subway.  Hungry from our measly lunch we decided on Subway, where we saw an Amish family eating dinner.  Huh?  The Amish eat at Subway; who knew?  When we left to go back to the motel one of the kids asked me where their buggy was.  I figured since it looked like they were there with an English family, that they must have come in a car and since there wasn’t anything else open, what choice did they have.

Back at the motel room we watched the weather and saw that high winds had shut down a fishing pier in Mobile and that Huntsville had gotten 4 inches of rain in a matter of minutes.  It was pretty clear right there that we weren’t going to make it to the gulf.

The next morning, we got up and decided we’d try doing some cave tours instead and headed for Bowling Green, Ky.  Al checked the map, and I set the GPS on my phone and off we went.  Only it wasn’t that simple.  Al was trying to follow the map and I was trying to give directions from my GPS and before we knew it; we were lost.  I reset the GPS for the fastest route and instead of taking a freeway or highway, it chose to drive us through every small town and backroad it could find.

Eventually we got there only to find the cave tours were closed due to flooding also.  Ok, yeah I get it, underground is probably the last place you want to be when it’s flooding.  So we settled on the National Corvette Museum instead.  What could go wrong there?

We walked up the ticket counter and I was floored by the price.  $35 for the four of us to go look at some cars?  But where else were we going to go; so we paid for the tickets.  Just off to the side of the ticket counter was a convertible corvette that they allowed you to get in.  I thought it would be fun to get a picture of the kids in the driver’s seat and had to wait for the family in front of us to finish their turn.  The grandpa, got in, they snapped a few photos and when he tried to get out, the door wouldn’t open.  They told him to unlock the door and then try it, but it wouldn’t budge.  Then they tried the outside handle and nothing.  Next they tried both the outside and inside handles together and it still wouldn’t open.  The old man was getting frustrated as his family tried to hold back the giggles.  How does somebody lock themselves in a car and can’t get out?  In a convertible no less. The kids decided they didn’t want to mess with it and we went to go look at other things.  We never did see how they got the old man out of the car, but we had a good laugh about it the rest of the day.

1953 Corvette

The corvette museum was ok if you’re into that kind of thing.  It was kind of cool to see the old styles of corvettes, since all I know are the styling from the early 80’s.We got to see the room and cars that fell into a sink hole in 2014.  There was an outline on the floor showing where the sink hole and cave underneath the floor was, and a window in one part of the floor so you could see just how far down it was (about 20-30 feet according the museum website).  That made me a little nervous, especially with all the rain and flooding going on in the area.  What if it were to happen again while we were standing there, but I’m sure they have some measure in place to keep that from happening again. (The sink hole was filled during reconstruction.)

Next we headed for Union City, TN to go to something called Discovery Park of America.  We weren’t really sure what it was since their website didn’t explain to much, but it looked like it had some science type exhibits.  If Jim couldn’t see rockets, at least he’d be able to see something science related.

Before making it to Union City, Al asked as a joke if we wanted to go see the Eiffel Tower in Paris, TN, since it was kind of on the way.  I said, “What the hell, it’s not like we’re ever going to see the real one.”  So we set the GPS for Paris.

We knew we weren’t going to get there before dark so I called ahead and got us a room.  Checking in I asked the desk clerk if there was anything else to see besides the tower and she said that was about it, but she thought they might have decorated it for Christmas and gave us directions to the park.  After settling into our room, we went to check it out.  No Christmas lights to be seen.  Just the tower under some street lights.  I was hoping to take some Christmas light photos but at this point I didn’t care.  I set up the camera and tripod and took a few of the tower against the black sky.  After we had dinner, it was still warm and humid, so we went for some ice cream and sat outside to eat it.  It was pretty clear to the locals we weren’t from around there.  We kind of stuck out like a sore thumb.  We didn’t talk with a southern drawl and we were the only ones sitting outside the Dairy Delight in short sleeves, while the locals sat inside with sweaters and sweatshirts on.

Paris, TN

In the morning we got up and went back to the tower to take a few selfies.  Everybody was in a fairly good mood for having our plans thrown out the window.  As I told Alison, “Thank God for a sense of humor, otherwise all we’d do is cry.”  Before leaving town we wondered where we could find some souvenirs, but there was none to be found.  Nobody sold anything even remotely related to Paris or the tower.  NO SOUVENIRS FOR YOU!

Union City, TN

We headed off for Union City then.  Discovery Park was more than I thought it was.  Part history, part science, part children’s museum.  You name it, they had it there.  In the main building there was a section devoted to transportation and military. A section for Tennessee history, an aquarium, dinosaur bones, civil war uniforms and weapons.  The top floor was for the universe, space and energy and an interactive hands-on place for kids with a 50-foot sculpture that also doubled as a slide.  Outside there was a settlement village, a barn full of antique tractors, a general store, a one room school house, and grist mill with working water wheel.  Another part of the park that we didn’t see, had a church, Japanese gardens, a train depot, a maze you could walk through and more.

Figuring this was all the further south we could get we decided to head for home after leaving Union City.  When Al missed the turn for the freeway, the GPS took us down every backroad it could find to get us back to the freeway.  We drove through areas no tourist was meant to see.  Down roads so narrow it was difficult to stay on the road when a car came from the opposite direction.   Threw areas where both sides of the road were flooded almost up the road; we even came to an area that had to be detoured because the road was flooded over.  Eventually we made our way back to the freeway and headed back toward Illinois.

We spent the night in Marion, IL.  Finally, a hotel with a pool so the kids could swim.  Watching the weather that night; snow was moving in to Minnesota, Wisconsin and Northern Illinois.  Al wanted to try and beat the storm home, but we still had a ten-hour drive ahead of us.  We went to bed early but nobody slept well that night.  Alison slept in a hard uncomfortable recliner and sometime in the night ended up on the floor, Jim chose the sofa sleeper, but decided not to pull the sleeper out until after we had been asleep for a few hours.  Al and I had a king sized bed, but there were sirens going off what seemed every 20 minutes and it made me wonder what kind of area we were staying in.

In the morning after watching the weather, Al asked me if I thought we should stay put for one more night or leave and see how far towards home we could get.  Knowing he wanted to get home I agreed to leave, so we packed up and went.  Along the way I checked out motel websites and picked a few in different towns in case we needed to stop.  The weather wasn’t great, rain and strong winds, but it wasn’t terrible either so we kept driving.  It wasn’t until our first stop that he told me something was wrong with the car.  He said it wasn’t handling that great.  I had noticed it wanted to pull to the left, but I just assumed it was the wind pushing us.  It was a fight to keep the car in our lane.

It wasn’t until we got north of Bloomington, Il that things took a turn for the worse with the rain turning to sleet and you could see the ice coating the trees as we went by.  It was in the middle of nowhere along I-39; where there’s only a truck stop and a Motel 6; that we stopped for the night and it was only 1 in the afternoon.

We got two rooms at what Alison best described as an upscale crack den.  At least it was clean because it wasn’t much else.  We ate lunch at the nearby truck stop and while we were waiting for our food the lights flickered and went out.  “Oh-oh”, I thought,” this isn’t good”, but they came back on just a few minutes later and all was good.  As we were moving our stuff from the car to the room, Al said “Maybe we should use the stairs after we get everything in the rooms.”  He was right, shortly after setting in, the power went out again and stayed out for about 3 hours.  Being out in the middle of nowhere we wondered how long it would take for the power to come back on since we weren’t a top priority.

When the power did come back on, we hung around the motel watching TV until dinner time and then headed over to the truck stop for dinner.  The restaurant had closed during the earlier power outage, but there was a subway and the gas station sold pizza by the slice.  Just as we walked in the door the power went out again.  At Subway they said they couldn’t take any new customers that they hadn’t already started their order, so our only choice was the gas station pizza.  They had one pizza with a slice missing and we bought the rest of it.   

This was about the time our humor broke.  We had spent the last couple days trying to keep up good spirits; but this was just too much.  Jim was having a meltdown because nothing had gone right the whole trip and the rest of us were just tired of having to deal.  Jim decided that now would be good time to go off somewhere to pout and had us searching for him in the dark with our cell phone lights, while the gas station attendants were trying to call the power company, herd everybody out and lock the doors.

After a few minutes, we found him in the hallway that connected the gas station to the restaurant.  We paid for our pizza and went back to the motel.  Al said, “It could be worse.  We could be stuck in the elevator.”  Yeah, that would be worse.

Before going back to our rooms, I stopped by the front desk to ask for extra blankets since we didn’t know how long the power was going to be out this time.  Earlier Alison had asked for an extra pillow and was refused saying there was already 6 in a room, but our room only had 4 so I don’t know where the other two were.  She asked how many blankets I needed and I told her 4.  She looked at me, and said there’s already one blanket on each bed.  I wanted to scream, “REALLY?  DO YOU REALLY EXPECT US TO STAY WARM WITH ONE BLANKET AND NO HEAT!  YOU COULDN’T EVEN GIVE US A PILLOW EARLIER!” But I didn’t, I explained that we had 4 people in 4 beds, we needed 4 blankets.  She handed them over reluctantly, with a look like I was going to steal them.  “Yeah, that’s just what I came here for,” I thought as I walked back to the room, “to steal ugly motel bedspreads.”

We ate the pizza in the dark.  Then since there wasn’t much else to do Al went to bed.  Alison and I sat on her bed staring out the window towards the interstate.  Where we watched an occasional semi drive by and the lights of the nearby town off in the distance slowly dim and eventually go out.  We knew then the power could be out for quite a while.

I have no idea what time I fell asleep, but I woke up around 3 when I heard Al rooting around.  He hadn’t slept hardly at all because he uses a c-pap machine and no power means no c-pap.  About 3:30 the power came back on, Al was finally able to turn his machine on and get some sleep, but me on the other hand, I was wide awake.  So here I sit, typing on my phone.

We’ve stayed in crappy motels before, so it’s not like we were expecting luxury accommodations, but an extra pillow and blankets would have been nice to get without having to partially beg for them.  We were never so happy to get out of a motel as we were that morning.  The thought of spending any more time there than necessary was appalling, and Al reminded us to use the stairs because he didn't want to be stuck there in the in the elevator for another 9 hours.  We spend $120 to spend the night in a dump with no heat or electricity.  I told Al maybe we should ask for a discount, but he said it wasn’t really their fault the power went out.  Usually when we leave a motel I try to tidy up, by making sure all our garbage is in the garbage can and all the towels we used are in a pile on the bathroom floor, to make it easier for the cleaning staff.  But at this place I didn’t care.  I left everything where it was and we were packed up and checked out by 8:30. 

The roads were much better for driving that morning, although the farther north we got the more the ground was covered in snow.  We had gone from 70’s and humid in Tennessee to 20’s and snow and ice in Illinois in a matter of days.  Al just wanted to get home so we pretty much drove right through stopping only for gas and lunch.  The kids slept most of the way home.  We stopped at a rest stop just after crossing the Wisconsin border, Alison woke up and looked out the window.  “Yuck!  Snow!” she said.  “What were you expecting as we got closer to home?” I asked.  

I offered to do some driving knowing Al didn’t get much sleep, but he refused.  He doesn’t do well in the passenger seat. The rest of the way home we pretty much drove on in silence.  Al concentrating on the road and me hoping the trip we planned for Florida later this winter goes much smoother.   Every so often Jim would ask if we were in Minnesota yet.  “No, not yet, Jim.”  I kept telling him.  We pulled into our driveway around 5 pm, exhausted from the long drive but oh so happy to be home and to sleep in our own beds.  This was one vacation I don't think we'll forget, but not one we really want to remember either.

I used to be a World Wrestling Federation Groupie

Flipping through twitter yesterday, I saw the headline “Roddy Piper dies of a heart attack at 61”.  And my heart sank a little because I used to be a fan girl.  I texted my friend, V, to tell her the news and that started a flood of memories from the mid to late 80’s when we were both crazy for the WWF.

I don’t remember exactly how it all started; only that V was the one who turned me on to it.   We each had our favorites. We would watch wresting almost religiously every Saturday morning.  Once a month after school we would head to the newsstand at the local drug store and flip through the current issue of WWF magazine; making sure there were picture of “our guys” before buying it.  Then we would take it home and cut out the photos and articles we wanted and put them in scrapbooks.

We saved every magazine just in case, even if they were cut into pieces and no longer readable.  And sometimes would use them to play jokes on each other.  V was much better at it than I was.  There were quite a few times I’d unsuspectingly open my locker in between classes to find the whole inside plastered with magazine cut outs of the villains of the week.  

When the WWF came to Minneapolis, V’s mom; who was just as crazy for wrestling as we were, would order tickets and drive us into the city to attend.  I don’t know how she worked it out, but she always was able to get us seat right on the isle where the wrestlers walked from the backstage area to the ring and we were always 5-7 rows back from the ring, so we always had good seats.  

We made tag board signs, proclaiming our love for certain wrestlers and waved them as they would make their way to the ring.  I’ll never forget the one time I made a sign for Brett Heart and he grabbed it from me as he walked by.  Once in the ring he proudly held it up for the whole arena to see.  I was on Cloud 9, until his opponent sneaked attacked him from behind and ripped my sign in two.  After the match I asked a security guard, who we had gotten to know fairly well because he recognized us as regulars to these events, to retrieve my sign.  He could only find half if it, but that was enough for me, knowing that Brett Heart had touched it.  I took it home and stuck it in my scrapbook with the rest of his pictures.

The first time I got to see Roddy Piper in person, was almost the last time I was allowed to go. I was finally going to be able to see my guy in person, and up close.  I was giddy at the thought of being able to actually touch him as he walked the isle.    I was so excited for this event, I could hardly eat.    The whole car ride into the city I was a nervous ball of energy, hopped up on Mt. Dew and adrenaline.  I had my program and waited anxiously for his match to start.  Finally his match was being announced, I stood up and looked back toward the black curtain where they would emerge from back stage.  My heart began to race when I saw a red pair of wresting boots walking toward the curtain.  His entrance music cued and I knew this was the moment I’d been waiting for all night.  The music played for a few notes before the curtain parted … and there he was.  I screamed, I jumped up and down, I reached way over the railing to get a good pawing as he walked by, I screamed his name, told him I loved him.  All in the hope of getting his attention.  Yes, I was that girl.  Once he was out of my reach, I was so exhausted from all of my over excitement I couldn’t even watch the match.  I burst into tears, sat down in my seat and everything went black.

The next thing I knew, I was being carried out of the arena to the First Aid station by two security guards.  V and her mom were being questioned if I had anything to drink or taken any drugs.  V’s mom was kind of shocked and replied, “She’s only 13.”    An ambulance was called and I was taken to the ER for some tests.  After spending a few hours in the ER, the toxicology screen came back clean and it was determined that I had hyperventilated and passed out.  I was given a sandwich and something to drink and released.  The $300 ambulance bill was enough to make my mom forbid me to ever go again.  She must of forgot, because after a while I was allowed to go again, however I had to promise that I would contain my excitement so I wouldn’t pass out again.

The next time I was allowed to go, the events had been moved to a different arena.  Before the matches started we started talking to a lady who was sitting next to us and she offered us some insider information about what hotel the wrestlers were staying in and that they sometimes hang out in the bar afterwards.  Turned out the hotel was practically across the street, and we could walk there.

We didn’t know if this information on legit or not, but figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.  Since the last match of the evening was one we really weren’t interested in, we decided to leave early and head over to the hotel.  At first we weren’t sure where we were going or if we were even allowed to be there, but after wandering around for a while; we found the bar and there wasn’t anybody there to kick us out.  Since V and I were too young to hang out in the bar, we sent her mom in to scope it out and see if she could find any wrestlers in there, while we waited out in the hallway with some very pretty, but overly made up women in tight short skirts and very high heels, who really didn’t seem that interested in getting autographs.  I never thought about it until now, but they were prostitutes.

After a few minutes V’s mom came out of the bar and dropped a few names of wrestlers she had seen, and confirmed that our inside info was good.  The bar was located just off of a small lobby area and we decided to wait in the lobby area away from the bar, in case someone from the hotel saw us there and wondered why we were hanging around when we were obviously too young to be there.  This spot gave us a perfect view of the bar entrance and  the side door. 

V’s favorite wrestler, Tito Santana, had fought that night, and she was lucky enough to spot him as he came in the side door.  She jumped up and ran after him so fast, her mom and I didn’t have time to recognize him.   He stopped and posed for a picture with her and gave her his autograph, before disappearing into the bar.  Another time, we stationed ourselves in the same spot and she spotted another one of her favorites coming from the bar and heading through the lobby.  V chased after him, asking for an autograph, without paying any attention to where he was heading.  He tried to ignore her but she was right on his heels.   He abruptly stopped, turned around, and told her he’d be back in a minute.  If he hadn’t stopped her, she would have followed him right into the men’s bathroom.

Shortly after Roddy Piper announced his retirement, the WWF was coming back to Minneapolis and he was scheduled to fight.  If I never went to another match again I had to get to this one.   It was my last chance to see Roddy in person and I had to try and get an autograph afterwards.  Once again we hung out in our usual spot but we weren’t having much luck.  V’s mom went into the bar to look around and spotted a few of them at one table.  She came out and snuck us into to bar so we could meet them.  I don’t remember who they were because they weren’t exactly who I was there to see.  We got to say hi and shake their hands, but were denied a photo because one of them told us he didn’t take pictures in a bar.  On our way out of the bar, I spotted him.  He had just walked in but then disappeared in the crowd before I could reach him.  We left the bar and waited out in the hallway for I don’t know how long until he came out and was heading for the elevator.  It was now or never. 

Unfortunately, there were other fan girls there too and I had to fight my way through them.  We followed him to the elevator, and somehow I managed to shove a piece of paper and a pen at him and got his autograph as a friend of V’s mom, who had come with us that night, snapped pictures.  Security must have been tightened by that time because somebody stopped me from getting on the elevator with him.  The elevator door opened, he stepped in and turned around to wave.  I gave him a quick high five before the door closed and he was gone.  That was the last of my groupie adventures and shortly after he retired, I gave up on watching wrestling.

I never mentioned my fan girl behavior to my husband, because by that point I was quite embarrassed by it, but thanks to V and our 10 year class reunion she told him all about it.  He thought it was quite funny and still, 20 some years later, teases me about once in a while.  He’ll be flipping through the channels and will run across wresting and tell the kids “Oh, quick change the channel, we don’t want Mom to hyperventilate and pass out.” 

Designed my own jeans

I've been thinking about making these jean capris since I started sewing for myself a few years ago, but I didn't know enough about pattern alterations, drafting and fitting to make them possible.  After several years of practice I finally felt ready to give them a go. 

I knew I liked the way my RTW jeans fit, but I was having a hard time finding a similar jean pattern, so I did the next best thing.  I took apart a pair of my RTW and created a pattern from there.

My jeans were a little to tight, so I had to add a little room in the waist and hips and just a smidge to the crotch points, other than that I didn't have to do to much fitting.

I cut the pattern about 4" below the knee and drew the cuffs.  They are folded under and both raw edges of the cuff sewn to the bottom of the denim.  I did the same with the back pockets, where I cut off 2" and added the accent fabric.  I also used the accent fabric in the front pocket bags and inside waistband.

My ultimate goal was to create a pair of pants that looked like RTW, not something made in my basement.  So I used real top stitching thread and my new sewing machine came with an edge stitch foot which helped keep the top stitching nice and even.  This was the first time I've added belt loops and rivets.  With a hammer and nail adding the rivets wasn't that hard.

The only thing I would change next time would be to use a smaller zipper.  I've always used 7" nylon zippers and have always shortened them, but this time wanting to be authentic I went with a metal zipper which can't be shortened without a pliers.

Can't wait for the weather to warm up so I can wear them.

Yes, a hammer is a sewing tool

Looking through my sewing cabinet, I have some non-traditional tools that I use in my sewing.

Sharpie Markers:  I use them in drafting patterns and marking my muslins.  When I'm drafting a pattern I usually use a pencil or a colored pencil to mark my stitching lines.  I use the sharpies to mark the grain line, pocket placement, and cutting lines.  If I need to make changes to the pattern after it's been drafted, I make sure to use a different color to mark my new cutting lines.

Tagboard:  When I get a pattern to the TNT (tried 'n true) point and I know I want to use it design other items I transfer my paper pattern to tagboard.  I do this by taping the paper pattern to the tagboard and cut the pattern pieces (with my paper scissors), so when I want to do a redesign I can just trace around the tagboard pattern and there's no need to reinvent the wheel.

Scalpel:  Works great for cutting open button holes, especially in waistbands.

Hammer & Nail:  I make a lot of pants and I like to use tack buttons on them.  They're stronger than regular sewn on buttons, but sometimes trying to poke the tack through 2-4 layers of fabric in the waistband can be kind of tough.  I use the nail to make a small hole where I want the button to go, and then the hammer to pound the tack and button together.  The hammer also comes in handy when adding grommets.

What kind of non-traditional tools do you have in your sewing arsenal?

Why I chose to fit good enough instead of perfectly

I finished my jeans.  And yes they don't fit perfectly; there's still some fit issues that I could work on, but you know what?  They're good enough.  I have the same fit issues in RTW and never noticed, so why should I let it bug me in what I make?  I've spent a lot of time looking at other people's backsides and noticed a lot of fit issues and nobody seems to notice.  Have you ever heard anybody (besides a seamstress/tailor) say "Look how those trousers don't fall from the hip correctly."  Or "You know...You have have smiles under the bum."  I never have.  Unless it's something really poorly fitted, who's going to care?

It's taken me 3 years to get here and I finally feel like I accomplished something.  I want to make myself some capris for summer and if I obsess over a few wrinkles; it's never going to happen.  I'm not saying I won't ever try to correct these issues, but right now I have a pattern that's wearable and I'm happy.

 

Side note:  I know I need to add a little extra room in waist and hips, and work on a contoured waistband and then they should be good

Fit vs How you feel wearing your clothes

Maybe I'm totally off base here, but how can you say something fits if you don't feel good wearing it?   This is something I've come to terms with over the last couple years while trying to make a decent pair of pants for myself.  I've talked a lot about this process over the years as I shared my trials & errors, disappointments & semi-accomplishments, but it always came back to one thing, even if I was happy with the finished product at the time, I never wore it in public.  They "fit" (according to all fit rules) but they didn't make me feel good.  In fact they made me feel like I was wearing a tent.  I'm a big gal, so I don't go for skin tight, but I also don't want clothes that I feel like I'm drowning in.

Many of the pants I made, in order to get them as wrinkle free as possible, I had to lengthen the crotch which made the crotch sit about 3 inches lower than where I wanted it.  I had to add width to the hips and thighs making the legs very wide; which also added inches to the waist.  To fit them to my waist I had to put in multiple darts, which looked like pleats, which emphasized my stomach making me look much bigger than I already was.

I kept going back to my RTW jeans, and wondering why what I was making was so far from my RTW jeans.  And then I realized it was because I wasn't makeing jeans; I was making slacks and there's a big difference.  I don't wear slacks and even though they "fit" I wasn't comfortable in them.

So this year I decided to change direction and instead of trying to turn a slacks pattern in to a jeans pattern, I took apart a pair of RTW jeans and created a pattern from them.   There's still a little bit of work to do, but this is as close as I've gotten to what I was hoping to accomplish in the first place and I feel good in them.  If I feel good in them, I'm going to wear them; even if they may not "fit" perfectly.

 Excuse the mess in the pics.  It's my daughter's room.

Going on a prom dress hunt...I'm not scared....Well, maybe just a little

My daughter has announced she's going to prom.  She doesn't have a date, but that's not going to stop her.

Why am I scared?  I like to think of myself as thrifty.  I hate to spend a lot of money on something that will only be used once.  Case in point, my wedding dress was under $300 and I thought that was a lot of money.  I liked how we did it last year.  She didn't have any particular style in mind, so we went to a used dress sale, and she was able to find a brand new dress (still had the tags regularly marked at $500) for $30.  Then while we were at Goodwill, we found another dress, that I liked more, for $30.  So for $60 she was able to get a dress for morp (kind of like prom but for the freshman & sophomores) and a dress for prom.

Morp 2014

Prom 2014

This year she's decided to more picky about her dress.  It has to have shoulder straps (nothing halter top or spaghetti straps.  Nothing to low cut in front or back and must be about knee length.  These are all her requirements for the prefect dress, so I really can't complain about modesty.  And it must be alternative, whatever that means.  She showed me one she found online some where, but I've never heard of the site before and was a little leery about buying one online because of some of the horror stories I've heard.  I'm trying to talk her into a cute vintage inspired cocktail dress from J.C Penney's.  If I'm going to spend the money it should be something she could wear again.  We'll see how it goes.