For the past six to eight weeks I’ve listened to Zizza sing “Winter Wonderland” and “Rockin’Around the Christmas Tree” when I picked her up after her dance lesson. She wouldn’t show me the dance though, she was under strict orders from her teacher not to spoil the surprise.
The week finally came. I took her to practice 3 days in a row leading up to the big day. She fretted over my not having made her skirts yet, and I assured her they were a five minute job. Here’s the thing though, If, in a massive sewing room clean-up extravaganza, you accidentally throw out the pre-cut skirts you were provided, that adds a lot of time to the project total.
I was finally setting out to make the skirts on Thursday morning when I found the bag of skirt bits had gone missing. After thirty minutes or so of searching the house I established that the bag had been mixed up in the trash and threw the children in the car for a last minute run to Joann for new materials.
Luckily the two colors of foil-dot lame I needed were still in stock, as were the red and black 1 inch grosgrain ribbons. We made it in and out of there in record time. I did have to rudely assert my place in line with an older woman at the cutting counter who was not accustomed to the new-ish “take a number” service approach, but I was racing the clock to get the Girl back in time for Joy School and had no time for niceties with senior citizens.
Actually, what happened is, I was hurrying along and hopped right up to the counter, with a confident “Seventy seven?” as soon as I noticed the cutting lady approaching the counter after putting the bolts from number seventy six’s order on the return rack. Then I noticed the “wasn’t it my turn?” look on the woman’s face and felt sort of bad but I’d already claimed my place in line, so that was that. Still I want the record to show that had that woman known to take a number when she approached the counter, she would have been after me in line anyway. I was totally there first.
Anyway, I got what I needed, fed the Girl lunch in the car, and delivered her to Joy School 15 minutes late, oh well.
Edited to add
I found the bag with the pre-cut dance skirts in it. Where? Hanging on the back of my sewing chair. It had been hidden by a number of the Mr’s shirts which I had ironed during my cleaning extravaganza and draped carefully over the chair back owing the the lack of hangers in the room.
Too bad I didn’t get around to putting those shirts away a little sooner.