Remember when Kevin in Repo Man was singing that in the grocery store as he stocked cans of generic food? Continuing with the soft drink theme, I'm feeling pretty good for someone on chemotherapy. It's hard to believe, I know. When I was a kid, chemotherapy was an air-and-land attack. Now, it's not quite so debilitating.
My whining two weeks ago certainly garnered sympathy. I feel I treaded dangerously close to journal-and-not-blog territory with my crying. Certainly, somewhere out there, there is another person more miserable than I am. I'm too fortunate to be that bad off. My kid and husband are too wonderful for me to be that bad off.
Last week I sewed a lot, and that's good. I made a tank top and matching shrug for the kid's birthday. The green, dog print fabric came from Stone Mountain and Daughter last fall and I'd been saving it for a Christmas present, but we all know what I got for Christmas. I also worked with one of my self-drafted patterns for a 4-gore skirt using the pink and brown tweedy stuff I got at Britex (see this link if you want to read more). The acid yellow and hot pink still awaits me, I think it's a project for my next San Fran trip. I again altered two skirts of my own making, which is a chore, not sewing, and added shaping darts to one of my vintage man's shirts. I spent time yesterday working on a sweater embellishment, something that is apparently very hard for me to do. I finally came up with a sort of Betsy Johnson-inspired thing for my boring black Lands End sweater using hot pink stretch mesh … you'll see.
All this, and balancing the checkbook, too. Of course, we are all gathered at the foothills of the SXSW mountain and that is about to dominate everything, including my illness. I often liken SXSW to a trip to a foreign land. You forget what your life "back home" is like. This year, I have an extra bag to carry.