In which I refuse to reference the length of time since the last post

Life is good. Summer draws to a close, which brings an odd mixture of feelings. I'm pretty proud of how active we've been this summer, filling our weekends with activities - some old favorites, some new adventures: biking to jazz festivals and Shakespeare in the park, playing tennis, reading in parks, stand-up paddleboarding, weekend trips to Seattle, hiking, crazy dinners atop closed bridges. There is still a little yet to come - a weekend at the beach and a camping trip. We've done so much that I feel no regrets about the onset of autumn, which is arguably my favorite season. I will gladly don sweaters and scarves and go to the pumpkin patch. But it's hard not to recognize that this may be our last summer in Portland. Despite a rocky start with Moved-to-Portlanditis and some culture shock, I've grown to really like this place. The popularity of the whole "go outside and be healthy" attitude here has had a pretty positive influence on us, and summer is one of the best times to embody that lifestyle. It's also the best time to explore new parts of Portland and Oregon in general. Now that the neverending rain approaches, it's like we're done discovering new places and having the happiest times until we move again.
And even that is a bizarre feeling, because it's so uncertain that this will actually be our last summer in Portland. It makes a big assumption that I get into one of the three grad schools I'm applying to, and they're all pretty darned competitive. I feel like I'm a fairly competitive candidate, but I don't want to build myself up for a huge disappointment. Still, we're planning as if we'll make a big cross-country move next June, which includes living this next year like it's our last in Portland.

Some things that are coming up:

• Grad school applications. Two this month (the first any day now) and another in November. Then trying to distract myself from the long wait until I hear back, which may happen as late as May.
• Conference presentation. A few days in Chicago for the AASP conference. I'll be presenting some work I've done in data visualization that I'm pretty proud of. I'm a little nervous everyone there is going to be unimpressed.
• Mike's second and final year of grad school. Last year got pretty tough in the spring when he had night classes nearly every day. This year he'll have Workshop (two terms of an intensive real-life group project) and a part-time internship on top of classes and his executive committee role. I'm offering to cook once a week for his workshop group just so I can guarantee a night when we're both awake in the apartment at the same time.
• Trip to Japan. We're hoping that we can save up enough to take a week-long trip to Japan in celebration of Mike's graduation. Since my grad school timing may be pretty spotty (there is one possible scenario in which I have to move to another state and miss Mike's graduation), we recently decided to plan this trip for Mike's spring break. Thus it will be a bit of a preemptive celebration but it's the most solid date range we're going to get.

Stay tuned and perhaps I'll actually blog about these things as they happen.

Compromises, completions and... caprice?

After several days of pinning, re-pinning, sewing things on backwards, ripping them out and sewing them back on again, the dress is finished. In a sense.
Have you ever taken something apart and put it back together again, or purchased cheap furniture that you assembled yourself? If so, then you are at least familiar with the possibility of that deflating feeling of (re-)assembling something and noticing a small pile of leftover screws.
Where did you go wrong? Everything seemed to make sense at the time, and you even followed the directions. All in all, it seems to be working, so why is Dread gripping its cold hand around your stomach? You should be happy that the project is complete, but every time you warily pass that TV stand or gingerly lower yourself to that chair, you'll wonder if this is the time you'll learn exactly what those three 5/8" bolts were for.
Do you remember the dress I was planning to make?

"I'm combining all three views to get a dress with non-spaghetti straps, a waist tie, shorter skirt and contrasting hem"

Well, this is the dress I ended up making:

Not too shabby! But I completely forgot to add the waist tie, which means I have no buffer to correct the slightly-too-big bodice. I made this mistake shortly after the progress shown in my last post - the non-spaghetti strap dress isn't supposed to have a waist tie in this pattern, and I forgot to make the modification before sewing the whole thing together. Oops!
I may still make some further adjustments as the skirt came out a little long for my taste. My fancy Readers Digest guide probably has some tips for doing just that, but I'm a little too sad to backtrack right now. I'm happy that it's finished and I should be pleased that it even remotely looks like a dress, but as I usually do I approached this project with unrealistic expectations of quality. Rationally speaking, I know that if I keep sewing clothing I will get better at it and eventually learn to customize patterns to fit me exactly - but right now that idea is a bit overwhelming and I just need a break. I imagine my next projects will be along the lines of home decor and possibly purses/bags. I'm thinking an upholstered headboard (probably requiring very little actual sewing), curtains, a messenger bag and a duffle bag (with wheels and an extending handle if I get really ambitious on the design side). We'll see how far I get before Mike gets tired of eating cupcakes.

Progress and cupcakes

When Mike and I visited my family in Pennsylvania a few weeks ago, Mom helped me buy a pattern, fabric and accessories for a pretty-looking sundress. I chose a pattern rather quickly (see left) but we spent about an hour running back and forth between various sections of the store trying to find the right combination of fabrics and colors. It turns out that I read the notions list incorrectly and had to visit a fabric store here in Portland but that was a great way to discover a resource for future projects. All told I have probably spent $30 on this project so as long as it ends up looking like a dress and is in the neighborhood of my size, I will consider it a good deal. (for the sake of sanity we're going to ignore how much my time might be worth).
It took me a solid three nights to prep: read directions, measure, figure out adjustments (I'm combining all three views to get a dress with non-spaghetti straps, a waist tie, shorter skirt and contrasting hem - and I'm two different sizes) and cut out all the pieces.

About to transfer markings to cut pieces with chalk

Cutting pieces is extremely boring work - you have to make sure the fabric is folded properly and determine the grain, lay everything out just right so you don't run out of fabric, pin the tissue paper to the fabric in a very specific way, cut out the right size, transfer all the markings from the paper to the fabric with chalk... at the end of it you're tired, sore, don't feel like you've done anything constructive yet, and your whole project has a chance of already being doomed. I consulted my 1990s Reader's Digest guide to sewing every step of the way. I learned that because of the design of the floral fabric that makes up most of the dress, I should probably take some measures to make the fabric match up properly (like you would with stripes or plaid), but that seemed a bit beyond my reckoning at this stage. Right off the bat my dress might look a little weird, but it's a calculated risk I was willing to take.

Oiling the machine

On day four I finally got to start pinning fabric to fabric and using the machine. I googled in vain for oiling instructions for my machine and ended up squirting a dot or two at random on the long-disused parts. I hope it doesn't catch fire or otherwise explode.
Finally! Sewing fabric to fabric at strategic junctures! It's incredibly satisfying to see the project grow as you progress through the instructions. That is, until you reach a point in the pattern (perhaps as early as Step 4 of 40) where the instructions assume a level of skill and jargon familiarity that you do not have. The helpful little illustrations no longer illuminate and you just stare at the words, occasionally flipping the fabric around in new ways trying to recreate the illustration but always somehow creating something akin to an unwearable knot. You read and re-read the instructions with various tempos and emphases ("open out center back lining and, with RIGHT sides together, sew entire center back seam in one continuous stitching." what?), each repetition joined by a new level of hatred in your voice. Eventually you might get so mad that you crumple the entire thing up into a ball and throw it on your pile of fabric, huffily cleaning up your sewing area and telling your husband you're going to bed. At 9:30.
That's just me? Well, if you do that, I recommend baking some apology/guilt cupcakes the next day when you've figured out Step 4 (thanks, Mom) and returned to sewing. Lemon with vanilla frosting seems to work well.
The dress currently looks more or less like a tank top. I'm happy to say that I have made it to step 10 without another violent, cursing incident. I think Mike is happy too.

Crafty ambitions

Like most people, I have many more ideas of things I'd like to do than I have the time or motivation to do them. Hobbies, academic pursuits, books to read, games to play. There's a never ending queue of entertainment and self improvement that I will never make a dent in, yet I am powerless to stem its growth.
I have a particular weakness for crafty pursuits. I have done most types of crafts at least once in my youth, and for some reason I am infinitely overconfident in my skills with these crafts. I see something in a store or online that I like and I think, "I could make that and it would look just as good. And it would cost less and be totally rewarding." Some crafts are difficult to screw up or I've had more practice in them, so they go relatively well. Now that I've learned how to stop turning them into tubes, I can knit a pretty good scarf and have recently expanded to hats. Other crafts are new to me and don't serve as well - cake decorating has been a bit of a mess so far. This is very frustrating for me because I always have a clear mental image of what I want to achieve and don't understand why I can't produce that image on the first try. I just get way too ambitious for my own abilities.
The latest craft upon which I have foisted my unrealistic expectations is sewing. Now, I used to do quite a bit of sewing when I was rather young- I submitted handmade outfits to the county fair competitions and won, parading around in my victory outfit for weeks to come But that was a long time ago. Nevertheless, I have dreams of making clothes and curtains and pillows and everything textile for the rest of my life. Practically speaking, this would be life-changing if I could become great at this. I have a very difficult time finding clothes in my size that suit my taste. Most of what I do find is more expensive than I'd like. So why not sew my own perfect wardrobe for a fraction of the cost?
Rationally, I know this is far too much to expect of myself. But I'm a perfectionist and rather stubborn so I will maintain this vision until it is realized or until it sends me into an angry meltdown.
The first project to test this vision is a pretty, classic sundress I'm hoping to wear to at least one wedding this year. For some reason I'm going to blog about it. I invite you to follow along if this sort of thing interests you. Wish me luck!