Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

So, among the many things I say and do making my own workout gear is now  one of them.  Posting said photos of that gear is now a given.  Read on, as I may regret this in the morning.   First up: Sewaholic's Dunbar Top .  Yea . . . let's just say I was in desperate need of running tops and pants since I painted, overhauled, and revamped my tiny city apartment this summer.  As in, 90 percent of my running gear found its way to the bin with paint marks and rips.  C'est la vie.   Anywho . . . the top. I used some left over black swimsuit lining from the suit I made last summer, left over mesh from the bra rabbit hole , and some band elastic from the previous venture.  The purple performance knit my Mom got me over the summer, I had slightly less than a yard.  I was going to make a bra, but hey . . . sports top with a built in bra is even better!  For a truly wearable muslin, this bad boy was 1.5 hours from PDF purchase, p...

137.  137 is the number of items I made this year. I know. Want to know the real number? 177.  I know! 137 is the base number, 177 includes, well, baby pants, a handful of plaintain tees (as in the ones of cotton and not my wool knit on that I love), panties (the "test" run ones and the patterns that work oh so well), those Mabels of summer and fall that got a wee bit smaller as the swimming and running laps toned me, a few run of the mill renfrews, and many briars. Dude. Let's just say I knew that number was up there, but when I went through my notebooks and made the final tally (pawing through the pages three times to make sure I wasn't over counting) my mouth fell open.  Yea, I know. Though, I ran my fifth half marathon this year, went to five countries, finished three articles, taught an unholy amount of courses . . . just so many, presented about six conference papers (which two more are being converted to articles and book chapters these days), wro...

Sometimes you have those moments when nothing will really manifest and complete itself.  That . . . that is me as of late. Piles of work come and go, piles more feeling neglected, stacks staring me down, and stacks more waiting to be found.  This is the nature of life, I presume. These days I'm sorely attempting to finish edits on two articles and one book, yet abusive emails and demands beyond the caveat of my station consume my fading hours and minutes.  There are days, like today, when I know that I will never keep up.  Catching up is a mere fantasy fading in the summer days as it turns to fall.  Of course, there's also a bit of writer's block.  That, I know what that is from . . . So, instead you press on and you look up from your computer screen, riddled with virtual characters streaming together sentences of relative coherence, and a natural beauty arises devoid of a filter.* And then you wallow with a mutt by your side, to only have her ...