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...

I realize that the slow rising realization that my marriage flopped--rather profoundly if I must say--is starting to shock the lot of you.  Though, you should remember that I was single for more than 30 years (near 36) before taking that ill fated trip down the isle.  Seriously, I've moved on, I'm good, I'm happy.  Things went down a year ago.  I'm not going into that now . . .  dramatics and damage of love undone is not something I really care to broadcast for internet harvesting of sorts. None-the-less, we have another serious conversation to have. I know that many of my so-called friends enjoy signing me up for every Republican list serve there is during political season.  Well, this year, it seams these chumps have found a new level of hell.  Republican people meet dot com is apparently a real f-ing dating site.  Dude.  No.  Oh no.  Just hell f-ing no. Last spring I let a couple folks talk me into a brief stint at online d...

It's been awhile.  Too long.  Too short.  In all reality, probably more of just what I needed. Since 1 May I spent around 22 nights in my bed, and not consecutively.  Oiy vey, I know. So, in light of that . . . here's a momentary catch up on how I found a way past the long and painful writer's block.  I have to say, when you write as much as I do and the words refuse to come . . . it is a painful stagnation, like being suspended in mid flight with the awestruck wonder of starring at an expansive world and a gut wrenching fear as the tension isn't meant to be stationary . . . too long and you'll snap, to never return from the motley flight of dreams, death, and a sliver of deafening reality filled with angst and self loathing. So, I finally wrote again.  Passionate, funny, and filled from my core.  Damn.  Damn, what a sweet release. Along the way there, I meandered Turkey for two glorious weeks in May.  My presentation was stellar, as ...

I finally get it man.  I mean, like I finally get it.  You know, that signature style and look that marks us, shapes us, makes us happy every day . . . Yup.  Okay, so I've had it for awhile, but it took me some trials to realize that some areas of life are past the point of experimentation.   Like jeans and tees, with pearls and boots . . . blazers and more boots.  We know.  Right? #always. First up, I'm dead serious on not making shit to just make it anymore.  Even more serious on eschewing cheap fabrics, tester fabrics, and trying it to see what the fuss is all about.  Yea, no.  Why? When I moved two months ago let us just note that there was a small semi truck of makes that were cast aside from either being  enormously too big as my body has altered in the past couple of years, I never liked, or--my personal favorite here--were in fabrics that I was clearly drunk, out of my mind, or just deaf, dumb, and blind when I purchas...