Also discovered I might have enough of a remnant in pin-striped wool to make, not a straight skirt as planned, but the modified Galaxy type dress from July, 2011's Burda. I've laid that out and let it "air" hoping that the pattern paper will shrink and the fabric will grow in the dark of night while I sleep.
But it seems that there's too much to do and somehow I can't compartmentalize to sneak in an hour of sewing. It's very hard for me to sew for myself when I should be extending energy for others. These are the weeks that I should be mail-ordering up a family Christmas (Switzerland's choice of presents has been exhausted over fifteen years), cleaning out the fridge of yuk (not started, just eating down to the bottom in preparation) tending to a couple of hospitalized friends, looking in on a feisty nonagenarian whom I adore, hosting a few in-laws and others, and most of all,
writing three new novels.
Yup, it's hard-core desk time, (no, not hard-core fiction!) for publication next year under a new pen name. I started the historical research just for fun and like Alice, fell down a rabbit hole into another world. I'm immersed in a parallel universe of the past, which requires no particular wardrobe or even fresh air for me, as my husband is doing all the cooking, etc. as I draft out narratives and work with three corkboards covered with index cards full of story elements, etc. I come up for oxygen twice a day to check sales of the other books which are ticking along quite nicely and communicate with colleagues, e.g. for the freshly-designed mystery covers now online. Like most of you, I do go to work every day and for the life of me, I can't figure out how some of you churn out dresses as if you were sewing for a living. Unbelievable!
In case you want to know how bad this is, I've worn the same cardigan and jeans now for about two weeks, save for washing them.
