How do they do it? How do they get “SOW-en” from “Sam-hane?” I haven’t a clue. But there you have it.
In the Celtic calendar, it’s the end of summer. It’s the time to get serious and burrow into your dwelling place, thinking deep thoughts.
Here are my deep thoughts:
I’m thinking about wearing a pencil-thin peel-on mustache, a white panama hat and my newly acquired boy friend jacket (from QVC) as my costume. I shall title my costume “the boy friend.”
Cole and I have a Monday morning ritual of getting hot chocolate (for him) and a white chocolate mocha (for me) to sip on the way to school. Those lovely kiosk attendants will probably be the only ones to see my costume.
(Yes, I still drive Cole to school and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. He could use the transit system, but this is our special bonding time. We listen to music, talk and make each other laugh.)
I’m actually not too clever in the costume department. Cole is. One year he was Santa Claus– this little, jolly, red-suited fellow stuffed with pillows. Another year he was a leprechaun. I went to a second hand store and bought a suit jacket and pants and painted them green. I suppose, I should have dyed them, but I didn’t really think. The paint, when dried, stiffened the fabric and came off onto Cole. But his hat was splendid and he was happy. My sewing skills are nil, but I managed to sew a puppy costume when he was three. ADORABLE! When he was around nine, Cole created a super hero called Silverix and designed a costume that was created with the help of his grandmother. In fact, I do believe that his grandmother created 95% of that costume. I bought the pattern and the materials and cut it out. She did the rest as I took the stitching out of what I’d tried to sew.
No, I’m not that kind of homemaker. People compliment me on what sharp fabric scissors I have. It’s because I never use them.
When Cole was younger, he took jujitsu. I hated every time he out grew his gi (the martial artist’s working clothes), because that would mean that I would have to sew on the logo patch and all the little award stars and patches that were part of the school uniform. It took me several bent needles (tough, thick fabric) and a glue gun to get the deed done.
And I couldn’t do it all at once. That was too painful and would have ended with my language becoming more and more colorful as I ripped the uniform into tiny pieces.
I do know my limits.
First, I’d purchase the gi and wash it because they always shrink. Then, I’d tape on the school logo. That was good for a couple of classes and bought me time to prepare myself for the ordeal. Those tiny golden stars!!!! Nightmareish. I think it was after I’d sewn the gi to the table cloth that I resorted to fabric glue. But you’d still have to sew the points of the stars down because they’d start to curl.
Those days are gone and are tucked away in my memory banks, filed under “the little things we do for love that really weren’t that bad and we’d do them all over again.”
Happy Halloween! May your treats be many and your tricks few.