I Can't Remember...

...the last time I actually had to hem a pair of jeans. I have always liked my jeans long, longer than fashion, usually, but not so long that they are on the ground. Remember the pair that split? I washed them and dumped them in the fabric box. Not exactly sure what I'll use them for but 90% of the denim is still good. You can tell I'm a sewer. "Oh look. There's 5 inches of fabric that I might possibly be able to somehow use." No, you can't look in that closet and count the boxes of fabric.

Anyway, I replaced the split pair with a pair from St. John's Bay, a JC Penney brand. I know Penney's has had a lot of problems, but I still love their clothes and check there first when I'm looking for something. I was unprepared for how long this pair was. After three washings and drys and they had not shrunk, I realized that, for the first time in, gee, decades, I was going to have to shorten a pair of jeans. It wasn't going to be very much, but I needed to lop off some fabric.

My jeans are like a second skin. You have no idea how difficult it was to cut off the hem. I have black jeans which are 12 years old. The president of Levis Jeans has said you don't need to wash them, but I love the feel of freshly washed denim. So, I wash mine depending upon how dirty they got the day of wearing. I don't have a dryer so I hang up my wash. I never wear a pair to work back-to-back, but I will wear one pair for a weekend unless it gets really dirty on Saturday.

So, with much trepidation, after putting this pair on, measuring, trying on again and looking, I set the pair on the table, grabbed the scissors and lopped off the current hem. I don't need a lot removed because I love length, but these were just too long. If I order "regular" length, it's not long enough. "Tall" can be an inch or two too long.

I folded over the hem one half inch, rolled it again, and pinned.

Of course, Mija had to come see what I was doing and to get ears scratched. Once the hem was rolled, I stitched.

Usually, jeans have the contrasting stitching, but I didn't want to dig through the sewing box and tins for an orange, which his what the topstitching color is. I'm using black that's in the machine for the curtains.

Finished.

It doesn't look like much, but it feels so much better. The heel doesn't drag on the ground now. You know, it kind of felt like I was back in college when we spent a lot of time embellishing our jeans, lengthening them with ribbon and seam bindings in a variety of colors or putting embroidery on the legs. Back then, jeans were just another canvas for expression.

I like my jeans. This pair fits well and feels good. With just a simple seam, it feels so much nicer.

Beverage:  English Breakfast tea

Deb

Crafting in September-New Curtains

I started the new curtains last night.

Carole said Star Trek was suitable, too. These will be made exactly like the blue Star Wars ones just finished. The texture of this fabric is more supple. Plus, the way the design is printed, I don't have to match sides as I did with the blue print. Still, I'll pin everything the same way. I should have another set to show you by week's end.

Beverage:  Water

Deb

Ok For What

Earlier this year, the city took down the dead birch tree in the parkway. I've driven by a couple more on my way to work and it does not appear that the winter was kind to them. Maybe birches aren't suitable to a suburban environment either.

In June, I came home and this had been sprayed on the remaining stump.

Okay for what? The big stump from the ash to the south of my drive also bore this. I kept meaning to call the city to find out what this meant but I'd get distracted and then not remember until about 10:30 at night, hardly the time to be placing a call to the city arborist even though I know he has voice mail.

In mid-July, the ash stump was ground out and cleaned up. The ground was raked and grass seed planted. I didn't know if the city had done it or if the neighbor had paid someone to come do it. This is pretty close to the ground so it could just weather away, as far as I was concerned, if I have to pay to have it ground. I realized, looking at the grass surrounding the stump, the "ok" meant the tree stump had been treated and was found okay for saplings. There wouldn't be anything noxious growing here.

I came home from work one Friday and found the stump gone, the shavings removed, the ground covered with dirt and grass seed planted. This is what it looks like now.

Come spring, I should toss more grass on the plot and it will fill in. In a couple years, you'll probably never know there was a tree there. I don't miss it and it makes mowing the parkway so much easier.

Beverage:  Water

Deb

It's Not Godzilla But...

I was on the phone with my daughter while still at the office and I happened to notice an image on my office window.

It really was quite large, probably 2 inches long.

I remember these from my youth. Oh lordy are they one of the insects I dislike. While riding home on the school bus from picture day in early September of the 4th grade, one of the boys grabbed one, crunched it just enough to disable it and dropped it down the back of my dress expecting me to scream like a...well...girl. (I dislike that phrase immensely. Some of the biggest scaredy cats I've ever met have been men. Why isn't it, "Scream like a guy" as if women have a lock on screaming?) When we got home, mom insisted on photos on the front porch. Somewhere, I have that photo. I sit, all prim and proper, in my light green seersucker dress all the while this grasshopper in the throes of death is squirming on my back.

I remember bursting into tears when she was done and peeling off the top, ripping the armholes in the process. Mom was friends with the guy's mother so she took the offending grasshopper to Katie and demanded an apology. I think I got one, half-hearted. He was a small in stature guy and I'm sure he was bullied about his height or lack thereof. His way of dealing with it was to move the bullying down the line. He was already disappointed that I didn't scream or squeal when he dropped it down my back. Being forced to stand in front of all of us, his and my parents, and apologize was a huge humiliation. But, he never picked on any of us again. I never, ever liked him, but I really liked his parents.

Locusts are bigger than this. My dad would tell stories about watching them come in clouds at the end of summer. It seems to me that these 'clouds' weren't like the ones the Plains states had during the Dust Bowl years. But I'm fairly certain there would have been clouds, more like a bulbous group, coming and settling into the fields and eating anything they could. I also remember dad saying grasshoppers were great fishing lures. I don't remember what liked them, but I do remember him spearing the hook and tossing the still wiggling insect into the Mississippi.

I was scared of them for many years after the bus incident. They are wholly unpredictable. One insect might engage you in a staring contest. Another might hop straight up as you approach and then there are the ones hidden that fly off as you walk by. How many times have I been startled by a hopper that happens to share his air space with my body? That's when I scream simply because it's large and it startled me.

It took awhile, but they don't scare me anymore. They are quite fascinating when you get down at their level and look at them. Compound eyes and leg muscles which, if translated to humans would allow us to jump almost to the moon. Still, they should keep their distance from me. I can yelp, only don't tell me I sound like a girl.

Beverage:  Water

Deb